#leave them there for a few HOURS and they’ll pass out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellvcifer · 1 month

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Hazbin Hotel x sad reader. Where the reader is just lying in their bed and hasn’t came out their room. And the Hazbin characters tries to give them comfort. If your not comfortable writing this then that’s totally fine 💗

RECLUSE— ଘ fic

pairing :: hazbin hotel residents x gn!reader wc :: 2.7k note :: hi there! i hope this is what you were looking for and brings you some comfort if you're feeling down. i wasn't sure which characters you were looking for specifically so i did a little of each for the main hotel crew. warnings :: reader is sad, isolation and pushing people away

“Good morning!” Charlie shouted, hands thrown in the air, a giant grin plastered on her face. “I have the per~fect morning planned for us. First, we’ll do our daily affirmations in our friendship circle, then we’ll try the trust fall exercises–this time without the egg boys–” her face wilted at the memory. Poor Tucker. “And then!” She immediately went back to her peppy-self, “I thought we could bake cookies!” She glanced at everyone who sat in the lounge area.

“Uh, we’re missing one.” Angel spoke, his body splayed across one of the couches as he casually scrolled through his phone.

“Y/N hassn’t come down yet.” Sir Pentious added, a few of the egg boys walking around him, seemingly playing a game.

“Oh!” Charlie looked confused for a moment, “Well, uh, that’s okay!” She walked over next to her girlfriend and sat down on the open seat of one of the couches. “We can wait.”

“I’m sure they’ll be down shortly.” Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s bouncy thigh to help ease her pent up excitement for the activities she had planned. All was fine until a few more minutes passed. Then those few minutes turned into thirty. Then thirty turned into an hour. Charlie and Vaggie shared a look.

“I’ll uh,” The princess stood, “I’ll just go check on them! To make sure everything is okay.” She nervously smiled before making her way to the stairs, Vaggie followed closely behind to accompany her.

“I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” She did her best to calm the blonde.

“You’re right!” Charlie smiled. “They probably just slept in a little. Nothing to worry about!” Once they reached your door, Charlie cleared her throat, adjusting her posture before knocking. A few raps of her knuckles on the dull door and nothing was heard in response. “Uh, Hello~! Wakey-wakey, Y/N!” A couple more knocks. “Are you in there?” Her question was hopeful though she couldn’t help the slip of concern. You had always been on time, happily participating in her exercises, and helping around the hotel. It was increasingly odd to not see you around. “Maybe they’re not at the hotel?” She turned to Vaggie.

The girl shook her head. “No one saw them leave.” The answer only caused Charlie to huff in a pout.

“Okay then.” She stood straight, eyes glimmering with determination. “If they won’t come out, then we’ll just go in!” She reached for the knob and grasped tightly.

“Wait, Charli–” The door was locked. She wiggled it a few more times, thinking maybe it was just stuck. The jostling grew more and more louder as she continued to try to open it. “Charlie, okay wait, stop.”

“Go away!” A muffled voice called from behind the door causing them both to pause. Your muffled voice.

“Y/N?” The blonde called out. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, just…” Your tone quieted. “Just leave.”

“Okay but I rea~lly think you should open the door! And we can talk! Or…” She nervously looked around, trying to come up with something. “Or~! you could join everyone downstairs! And we can, uh… We can…” She trailed off, eyes flitting to Vaggie.

“Maybe we should just give some space.” She suggested and Charlie sighed in response. Her head drooped.

“Yeah, okay.” They walked off, with more questions than answers, and worried expressions.

“I’m sure after today, things will be back to normal. Okay?” Vaggie side hugged Charlie.

Inside your room you laid in your bed. Everything felt heavy, swallowed up in darkness. You let the blankets cocoon you in their warmth as you lie there, unmoving. Unmotivated. Drowning in the gray clouds of your mind. Surely, a few days like this and you’d be out of your funk.

Nothing really put you there to begin with but you felt yourself becoming low-spirited over the past week. That morning, you knew it was impossible to get out of bed. You sunk further and further into the springed mattress, the lumps now cradling you and your sorrows. You heaved out a deep breath. Just a few days. And maybe, this dark storm will have passed.

“It’s been four days!” Charlie worriedly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “And after all we’ve been through together I think it’s time we step in!”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sweetie.” Vaggie stood up, walking closer and placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “When you ask to be left alone, sometimes you just gotta leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m with toots over there.” Angel gestured to Charlie, walking over with a drink in his hand. “I get wanting to shut out for a few days but not this long.” He leaned on the back of the couch.

“Perhapss they’re in need of ssome assistance?” Pentious’ tongue peaked out to end his words.

“Good idea, boss!” One of his egg boys shouted from the ground.

Charlie’s face lit up, eyes widening upon hearing his words. “It’s a GREAT idea!” She turned towards everyone, hands held out in excitement.

“No, Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed both her hands. “We already tried that and got told to leave.”

“Yeah, but that was you two.” Husk added, “And we know how you like to handle things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “It means you don’t know how to read the situation.”

Vaggie was glaring at him fiercely when Angel straightened his back, “You know what, Kitty’s right.” He got closer. “Why don’t we try our hands at talking. Figure something from us might make ‘em feel better.”

“But the door’s locked.”

“Eh,” Angel waved his two right hands. “We’ll get 'em to open it.” He began walking to the stairs, Husk close behind him.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Husk asked.

“Oh, I got an idea.” He flashed a look before leading the bartender to his room. He made a short pit stop to pick up fat nuggets and then they made it to your room. A few knocks on your door and they were only answered with silence.

“Hey Y/N~!” Angel called out. “You know, it’s been so lonely without you around and I have someone here that’s been dying to see you!” As if on queue, nuggets made two cute squeals of delight.

“Really?” Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel. “You’re bribing them with the pig?”

Angel snapped to look at him. “Hey! Everyone loves this pig!” He sharply spoke in a low tone.

“Leave me alone!” They both snapped to stare at your door.

“We brought booze?” Angel tried again, suggesting Husk’s bottle of whiskey. Which may not have been the best idea considering the slow turn the cat gave him. Entirely offended with his mouth open.

“I don’t want your stupid cheap alcohol!” Why… You rolled your eyes, turning away from the door, Why! “Or your pig!” Why are you saying these things? “Just go! Away!” Your chest was filled with an abnormal pressure as you threw the blanket over your head, water brimming your eyes. You muffled the sobs into your pillow. Why are you feeling like this?

Angel and Husk left defeatedly, entering the lobby similar to how Vaggie and Charlie did the first time. Husk went behind the bar, not wanting to talk and Angel laid down on the red couch.

“Well?” Charlie almost knew the answer already but hoped for something better.

“Got nothing.” Angel moped. “Bribed ‘em with Nuggets and booze.” He turned to look at the group. “Nothing’ll work if we can’t get passed the door.”

“Then we must bring the show inside!” The radioed voice was cascading throughout the room as he appeared in the lounge area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, he crossed his legs. “Sometimes a little jazz is all you need to reignite the light.”

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Vaggie was quick to stand in, “We can’t just invade their privacy!” She turned to the group. “I care for Y/N as much as all of you, but sometimes you need to respect them wanting space.”

“But aren’t you two the oness telling uss to be there for our friendss?” Pentious asked. “How can we comfort them by giving them sspace?”

“It’s called boundaries.” Her hands assisted the assertion of her words.

“Uh, Yeah, boundaries.” Angel mocked, “Smiles is gone by the way.” He pointed to the now empty seat as everyone snapped their heads to it. Vaggie slapped her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan.

Charlie nervously laughed before clasping her hands together. “Oh no.”

Alastor rose from murky obsidian shadows, revealing his everlasting sinister grin. His eyes slid over to the bed, brow raised once he saw a cluster of blankets. He spun his mic, walking over and waving his hand. The unused fireplace was suddenly lit and crackling, causing you to jolt.

“The fuck–?”

“Why Hello!” The sudden radioed cadence was all you needed to hear. You rolled your eyes. “Closing away like this is no way to present yourself!” He leaned forward. You noticed the soft soothing trill of jazz in the background, no doubt brought on by the man beyond your blanket barrier. “Where’s the joy in being locked away in this room?”

“Will you just–” You hastily uncovered yourself and sat up. “Get out!” The glow of the flames flickered against your skin as you sought out the intruder.

“Don’t you look swell!” His incessant grin was accompanied with an overt blink. You groaned, forcefully lying back down in a huff against your pillow. Glared glued to the ceiling.

“Why can’t anyone understand that I want to be left alone!”

Alastor walked over to the fire, a chair and an end table appeared with a cup of coffee. He took a seat and grabbed his cup. “Why be alone when there’s so much to do outside!”

You released a heavy sigh. “What’s the point…” Your voice came out in a strained whisper. Throat knotting as you struggled to swallow away your swollen tongue.

Al took a sip from his mug, “My my, what a depressing thing you are! I’m nearly getting flashbacks.”

“Alastor…” You felt your eyebrow twitch, “With every single drop of the draining patience I have left. Get. The fuck. Out.”

Your words had zero effect on him, “But I’m here to help, my friend!”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re saying you’re here because you care?”

He laughed, “Oh dear, no!” He set his drink down and stood up, “Being a witness to you drowning in your sorrows is quite entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m merely a parrot to our constituents! The worry over your newfound reclusion has become the talk of the town! I wanted to see it for myself.” He walked closer. “But by all means, continue your isolation! Watching the others scurry about with concern and become defeated time after time again is delightful! It’s not as if it’s hurting anyone…” His eyes slid towards you, his smile filtering to that of a smirk. “Including yourself.” He melded into the floor, the fire and music extinguishing with his exit.

Now alone in the thickened darkness, the silence of your own thoughts gnawing into the corners of your mind. Hurting. Were you really hurting them? That wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. Staying in your room. Locked away. That was supposed to be the solution until you felt better. Somewhat better. Just… Different than how you were feeling now.

But the days don’t feel different at all. If anything, the mucky feeling only cemented itself further within your chest. You felt it begin to sink, the thought of everyone trying to break through to you brought that welling feeling back. And you just yelled at them. You yelled at the only people trying to show you kindness.

The tears pooled over the edge, racing down your face. Everything released from within, the melancholic storm brewed over the past few days erupted. Your thunderous cries echoed throughout the dark room.

After a few more whales you finally simmered down to a low whine, taking deep breaths to relieve yourself. It wasn’t a cure-all but you were finally able to gain some bearings. You grabbed your blanket and stood up, wrapping it around your figure. That damn radio head may have had a point after all. You released another long-winded breath and began making your way to your door.

The hallway walls were a sight for sore eyes, you pupils dilating as soon as you stepped out of your room. The heavy feeling in your lungs felt like it was building once again as you journeyed to the lobby. What would you say to them? Would they even want to talk to you? You stopped walking. What if they’re mad at you? You closed your eyes, shaking your head before continuing. You committed to this. No backing out now.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs that descended into the lobby. The blanket around your body felt like it was nearly constricting you with how tight you had it pulled. You sniffled quietly, eyes scanning the area and finally seeing them crowded around the old TV for movie night.

Shuffling closer, you found that watching your feet take each small step closer made you less scared to address them. As soon as Vaggie caught sight of you, she paused the movie, elbowing Charlie and nodding towards you. Everyone soon followed her line of sight.

The silence signaled it was finally time to say something. An overwhelming heat pulsed throughout your body, ending within your cheeks.

“I…” the tears began bubbling the rim of your eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t k-know why I’m feeling like this. I just feel… I feel sad, and I don’t know why!” Everything broke once again, large drops cascading down your cheeks endlessly as you began to cry. You used your blanket to wipe away the trails.

Charlie and Angel stood up immediately, coming to your side and embracing you. “It’s okay, Y/N.” The blonde softly consoled. “You don’t have to be happy all the time! And you never need a reason to be sad.”

“Sometimes, we just feel sad. And that’s okay.” Angel spoke, his voice mellow and comforting. “Just share the sadness with us so you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah, and we’re always going to be here for you.” Vaggie stood and took a few steps closer.

“Come now,” Alastor gestured with his hand. “Join us while we continue watching this terrible picture show!”

“Yess! Come, come.” Pentious patted the middle seat of the couch as everyone awaited your answer.

A surge of warmth blossomed throughout your body as you stared at them. Ever so gently, your lips pulled upward as you slowly nodded. They returned it before directing you to sit. Angel sat on the other side of you while Charlie returned to sit down with Vaggie and Niffty.

Pentious bent down to the ground and scooped up three of his egg boys and held them close. He leaned over to you, holding one out as an offer. Simon, the egg boy, opened his arms up towards you, awaiting to be held. You gently cradled him against you and smiled.

“This feels much better.” Charlie hummed, cuddled up with Vaggie. Your head fell onto Angel’s shoulder as you released a sigh. Even though you aren’t feeling a hundred percent all the time, at least you're surrounded by those who care about you.

A beamy eye popped into your line of sight. “I made you this.” Niffty shot out her hand, a dead roach was disassembled and strung into a necklace. You flashed a strained smile. It really was the thought that counted.

“Thanks, Nifft.” She flitted back to her spot with a happy giggle and hearing it made you sigh in content. You glanced around the room, seeing everyone watching the movie.

Yeah, this really was much better.

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ♡

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel x gn!reader

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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hi love! Ive been fawning over your drabbles for the past few hours (marauders girlie but ur honestly converting me into the other fandoms with ur writing).

I had a cute idea for a short poly!marauders, something involving maybe the reader and sirus being prone to getting sunburnt easily? (I hope this makes sense 😞) Where Remus and James tease the two of them but quiet down when they (reader/sirus) threaten not to put sunblock on for them (who would pass on that offer). Maybe a beach day?

Thank you lovely!

cw: reader is implied to have pale/light skin

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 745 words

“Hold your breath, lovie.”

You pinch your eyes and mouth shut in anticipation, and still a small sound escapes you at the chilly spray hitting your back.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” you hiss, and James chuckles as he sets the can of sunscreen down, rubbing it in with his hands.

“You need it.” Remus’ tone is amused. He takes the sunscreen to give Sirius’ back the same treatment, ignoring your boyfriend’s shrill cursing. “You both do.”

“I don’t know, do they?” James asks, and you can hear the mischief in his voice as his fingers slip under the tie-string of your bikini top to get the sunscreen in there. “I think they may just refract the sunlight rather than soak it in. Look at them, they’re gleaming.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius grumbles.

“You may be right,” Remus says. A little smile plays on his lips as his hands move over Sirius’ shoulders. “I think if they walked about twenty meters off, I wouldn’t be able to tell either of them from the sand.”

“Moony, be fair,” James chides lightly. “We’d be able to see ‘em. They’re definitely lighter than the sand.”

“Alright.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “We get it, we’re pale. You’re hilarious.”

James’ hand snakes down, giving your bum a playful squeeze as he leans around you for a kiss. You give in much too easily for Sirius, who groans in protest as you close your eyes and relax into James’ embrace. He breaks the kiss after a few seconds, taking the sun lotion in hand and beginning to apply it to your face with loving, pacifying touches.

“Turn around, love,” Remus says.

“Oh, so you get to ridicule me and then I’m supposed to be obedient?” asks Sirius haughtily.

“Mhm.”

“Well, I don’t think—”

Remus picks the can of sunscreen back up, spraying it on the back of Sirius’ neck. He yelps, turning, and Remus pushes him down onto a folding chair.

“There we are.” He crouches in front of his boyfriend, smearing sun lotion on his reddening face with the tolerant manner of a patient schoolteacher. “Oi, James, d’you think that if we got stranded at sea, one of these two might work as a beacon?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You see the delighted scrunch of James’ nose when you glower, his thumb rubbing carefully under your eye. “We shouldn’t even bother with flares, they won’t be half as effective. Actually, if we take the sunscreen off them now, they’ll probably get red enough to attract the eye for miles.”

Sirius huffs, but you give your boyfriends an appraising look.

“So what I’m hearing,” you say slowly, “is that we need sunscreen and you don’t.”

Remus sends a small smile your way. “Basically, yes.”

“S’not as essential for those of us with blood in our veins, lovie,” James agrees.

“That’s too bad,” you tsk. “I guess you won’t be needing our help with it, then.”

You look over at Sirius, and he grins, realizing what you’re about.

“Yeah, seems like we’re off the hook, doesn’t it?” He smizes up at Remus, who frowns back at him. “They’re sort of missing out, the massage isn’t half bad.”

James’ hands still on your face. “Is that a threat?” he asks amusedly.

You shrug. “It’s an incentive.”

“You realize we could just leave you like this,” Remus points out. “You could spend all day under the umbrella while James and I get to enjoy the sun.”

“I’m perfectly capable of lotioning my own ass,” you say, and James’ eyes dip almost regretfully to the parts of you he hasn’t gotten to yet. “Or, I wouldn’t mind helping you finish up, Siri. Would that work for you?”

Sirius grins sharply, ignoring where Remus sits in front of him and patting his lap twice. “Get over here, gorgeous.”

You start that way, but James’ lotion-slicked hands catch at your waist, preventing you from getting far. You grin up at him, expectant.

“Alright, point made.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Sirius wouldn’t do half as good a job with you as I am anyway, so I’ll finish you up, then you do me. Fair?”

You glance at Sirius, who exchanges a look with Remus before nodding back at you.

“Fair,” you say. “I meant what I said, though. I’ll be doing my ass myself.”

James’ face falls, and Sirius cackles loud enough that Remus looks around you in embarrassment.

“Shouldn’t’ve made fun of her, Jamesie. Our actions have consequences.”

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1427 · 3 months

Text

something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar.

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost.

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be?

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room.

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief.

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.”

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh.

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.”

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?”

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room.

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway.

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there.

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else.

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet.

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl.

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence.

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything.

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end.

Why won’t he look?

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing.

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward.

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.”

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.”

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear.

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally.

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know.

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more.

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady.

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him.

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing.

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground.

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?”

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all.

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do.

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile.

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going.

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot.

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly.

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more.

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him.

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans.

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened.

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him.

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water.

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person.

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room.

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?”

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’.

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant.

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body.

He needed more. He needed to watch you again.

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that.

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him.

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you.

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained.

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly.

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own.

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good.

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on.

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t.

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you.

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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mactavsh · 1 year

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Situational Awareness

Synopsis: The boys get captured following a lead on Shepherd and it’s up to you to save them before its too late.

Relationships: Task Force 141 x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: someone said feral reader so here we are

Masterlist

You should have been with them. You weren't sure if it would have made any difference but you belonged with your team. The previous mission left you with a decent gash along your arm, just enough that you were benched for the current excursion. While the boys shipped out you worked overwatch with Laswell, gathering intel and guiding the boys in the field.

A lead on Shephard and the remnants of Shadow Company led the team to an abandoned factory compound. Throughout the mission, they were in constant contact with the base at least they were supposed to be. Gaz announced they were breaching another building and that was the last contact you received from them.

After a half hour of silence, Laswell started trying to pull up satellite images, anything that could shed light on what happened. Kate managed to get a drone to the area but there was nothing, like they disappeared without a trace.

Two weeks later you finally found something actionable. You led a small team to a safehouse Laswell discovered. After a bit of not-so-gentle persuading, the Shadows there gave up a set of coordinates.

As soon as you were back on base you practically ran to Laswell's office to give them to her. Much to your dismay, she didn't share in your urgency or so you thought.

"That will take too long!" You paced the room, shaking your head as you spoke.

"We can't go in blind, Y/n"

"If we wait any longer they'll all be dead if they aren't already." You stopped in front of her desk.

Laswell sighed and stared ahead at her computer. She had put the coordinates in and was looking at satellite images of the area. "We have their location that's good but it's not enough. We need to get a team together, find building schematics."

"You know as well as I do, not one of them will talk. As soon as Shepherd gets bored they will be killed."

"I can't authorize an op without more information. We need to surveil the building first. Figure out how many people are there, if Shephard is there." She stood from the desk, her tone shifting. "However, I am technically not your commanding officer."

She turned to face the window and you realized what she was doing. You quickly took a photo of the screen, making sure to capture each image before you stepped back.

"I understand." You spoke as she turned back around to face you. "You know how to reach me."

As you turned to leave Kate spoke once more. "Be careful, Y/n."

"I will."

It wasn't hard to formulate a plan, after all, you were recruited by Price for a reason. Your strategic thinking went almost unmatched and your propensity for stealth made you deadly. You waited for nightfall before sneaking off base with all the gear you'd need and some that packed a bigger punch.

The drive was tense as you got closer to your target, you stopped in a clearing a few miles north to avoid detection and hiked the rest of the way. No overwatch and no backup, you triple-checked your gear. There was no room for error here.

The two-mile hike seemed to pass in an instant, your feet carrying you on autopilot through the dark forest. Looking up at the building when it finally came into view you gathered what information you could. Three floors, unknown if there was a basement. One large receiving door and two entrances on the northern and western sides of the warehouse.

Your plan was to use stealth to take out as many Shadows as possible. Moving floor by floor looking for the boys. You knew you would inevitably be discovered, so you'd hoped at that point you would have found at least one of them and that they were in any condition to help you fight.

You decide to enter through the northern entrance. The first objective was to steal a uniform so you could move through the building easier. As you went you were to keep an eye out for weak points, places to set one of the many charges you had brought with you. After tightening the straps of your vest and double-checking the C4 in your backpack, you readied yourself as you moved out of the tree line and toward the door.

Situational awareness. They practically beat it into in when you enlist, it could very easily be the difference between life and death. You thanked whatever high power was up there for granting you a natural affinity for the skill. You were on high alert each cell in your body buzzing, your highly trained eyes scanning the environment for threats.

Approaching the door you turned the handle slowly. Peeking in you checked both directions before entering fully.

The door opened to a long hallway that was empty as you entered. Slowly you moved in deeper, listening closely for movement. The familiar weight of the rifle in your hands was welcome as you delved further into unknown enemy territory.

The rifle however was simply to keep up apprentices while inside until all hell broke loose. Shooting it would attract every Shadow in the building to your presence. You had also attached a silencer to your sidearm but even still the shot could be heard if someone was close enough. Even if the noise wasn't heard, the blood would certainly be noticed. Snapping necks or choking them out was dangerous because you had to get up close but it was clean and quiet. Stealth takedowns are your best option for ensuring no one knew you were infiltrating the base until you wanted them to.

A single set of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind you so you ducked into a closet. Leaving the door open a crack you waited for the Shadow to be in front of it before pouncing. You grabbed him in a chokehold and dragged him back into the closet. He thrashed in your hold but not long before you had enough of a grip to snap his neck. He fell limp and you slowly guided his body down to the floor.

Lucky for you he seemed to be about your size so you made quick work of relieving him of his uniform. You momentarily removed your tac vest to put on the jacket with the Shadow Company emblem. Your vest was already black so it fit in with the uniform. It had seen you through countless missions, quickly becoming an extension of you. Price had given it to you when you joined the 141 and it has been with you ever since. You grabbed the gaiter and helmet next, adjusting them to fit properly over your face, effectively shielding your identity.

You strapped the dead man's rifle to your back for later and brought yours up as you exited the closet once more. Head held high you continued pushing forward.

Turning down the next hallway you paid close attention to the attached rooms. It was quiet, you couldn’t hear many voices if any. You didn’t have time to clear each room but some of the doors had windows allowing you to confirm those particular rooms were empty. You stashed that information in your mind for later.

Footsteps approached from in front of you but you held fast. A Shadow rounded the corner, not paying any attention to you. A plan quickly formed in your head. You waited until he passed you and was standing next to the door of one of the empty rooms before calling out to him.

“Excuse me,” He paused his walking and you approached so you were standing in front of him. “I seem to be a little lost, could you tell me where the armory is?” You lied.

He rolled his eyes and just as he was about to speak you lunged, maneuvering him into the empty room and kicking the door shut behind you. He fell lying on his stomach, so you straddled him and held his wrists against his back. "Where’s the 141?"

He gritted his teeth as he squirmed. "Fuck you, I’m not telling you shit.”

You tutted in his ear. “Is that really how you want this to go?”

“I’m dead either way." He grunted as he struggled beneath you.

“So you’re not entirely stupid then.” You shifted both of your positions so you were on the ground behind him, holding him firmly with your thighs as you pulled his arm at an awkward angle.

"You have a choice here." Your voice was low, calm. "I can kill you quickly and painlessly. Or," You tugged on his arm earning a groan from him. "I can make sure you bleed out nice and slow where no one will find you."

He grunted at the pressure before he spoke. "The Captain is in a cell on this level, south hallway with the Brit two doors down from him."

"What about the other two?" When he didn't answer right away, you pulled on his arm once more, popping it out of the socket.

He yelled in pain and you quickly brought a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

You waited for the man to still before removing your hand. He spoke hurriedly as soon as the barrier was gone. "The Scot was being annoying so they pulled him out of his cell and brought him to the top floor. The big guy is there too."

"What's up there?" You shifted again, putting him in a chokehold.

"Interrogation."

“What about Shepherd?”

“He left a few days ago, I don’t know where.”

"Good boy." You patted his head before snapping his neck. You stood and dragged the body deeper into the room, out of view from the door. You planted some C4 in the room before readjusting your gear back into place. Stretching your neck you headed out of the room and toward the southern end of the building.

The building was large and you mentally kicked yourself for entering on the opposite side of where the boys were, not that you could’ve known. The long walk however did give you an opportunity to take out many of the patrolling Shadows as well as get a better idea of stairwells and possible escape routes.

Finally, you entered the hallway in question. There was only one guard stationed outside the doors. Obviously, they didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to storm their castle. You waited until you were right in front of the guard to pounce. Quickly reaching up and snapping his neck then lowering the body quietly to the floor. You pulled the keys off his belt, opened the door, and dragged the body in with you.

The cell was dimly lit and smelled strongly of blood. Price was chained to a chair in the middle of the room. He slowly raised his head looking at the dead Shadow then at you, a weary expression crossing his bloodied features. You pulled your mask down as you approached him.

"Y/n?" He spoke, voice horse.

"Nice to see you, Cap."

He paused squinting at you through a black eye as you unlocked his bindings. After you finished you hooked the keys back onto your vest and stood in front of him.

"Where's your team?" The Captain questioned, finally noticing no other soldiers were with you.

"My team went and got themselves captured."

Price grabbed your bicep as he stood. "Y/n, did you come here alone?"

"Didn't have a choice. You boys were running out of time and Laswell's hands were tied."

"Christ."

"I know, reprimand me later. Gaz is down the hall, Soap and Ghost are on the top floor." You handed him one of the guns you looted off a Shadow. "We're all we got."

He took the gun and nodded. "That's all we need."

You moved toward the Shadow you had just killed, quickly relieving him of his uniform and helmet then handing it to Price. "Can't have you breaking my cover just yet."

"As soon as we have everyone, we're blowing this place to high hell." He spoke as he got dressed, wincing when he tightened the vest over his chest.

"What d'ya thinks in my backpack?" You smirked.

"Remind me to separate you and Soap from now on."

"Aw come on, sir." You feigned offense as you stepped up to the door, pulling your mask back up and preparing to move. You pulled more explosives from your back, carefully affixing them to the wall.

With your back turned you couldn't see the small smile that crossed Price’s features as he looked at you, a sense of pride swelled in his chest. He pulled up his mask as he took position behind you. "Take point, kid."

"Copy." You opened the door, looking both ways before stepping fully out. Quickly you moved two doors down. You unhooked the keys from your vest and unlocked the door.

"I'll watch the hall." Price spoke, closing the door for you as you entered the room.

Gaz's cell was the same as Price’s; same dim light and metallic scent. You pulled your mask down and the scent hit you hard. Shaking it off you moved toward Gaz, his head was limp against his chest, slow breaths could be heard emanating from him.

"Gaz?" You kneeled down and set a hand on his shoulder as soon as you were close enough. Blood slowly trickled from his nose and you assumed it was broken by the new angle it was bent at.

"Come on Kyle, we gotta go." You gently shook him, a light groan left him as he woke.

Bleary eyes met yours as he regained consciousness, a smile forming from cracked lips. "My hero."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at him before gently removing the chains holding him in place and standing in front of him. "Can you stand?"

Tentatively he stood grabbing your shoulder for support. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, clearer than they were before. "Ready to roll."

The door opened and Price dragged a dead guard in with him. You felt Gaz tense next to you and realized Price still had his mask up, so you addressed him. “Having fun out there without me, Captain?”

Price pulled his mask down and looked toward Gaz who relaxed his grip on your shoulder. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Good to see you're still standing, Sergeant."

"You too, Cap." Gaz let go of you, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for the fight to come.

"Get dressed," You pointed at the Shadow Price just dragged in. "Soap and Ghost are on the top floor."

"Don't you have a squad with you?" Gaz questioned.

"No, they came by themselves." Price interjected.

"Badass." Gaz moved to high-five you.

Price grabbed Gaz's wrist before his hand could meet yours, placing the Shadow's uniform in it instead. "Don't encourage them."

You smiled sheepishly at Gaz as you moved back toward the door. "We should get moving. I've made a dent in their numbers but it's only a matter of time before someone finds the trail of bodies I've left and sets off some alarms." You pulled some C4 from your pack and affixed it to the wall next to the door. "Ready?"

"Got your back," Gaz spoke as he finished getting dressed. Price handed him the gun that the Shadow had been carrying. He pulled his mask back up and you and Gaz mirrored the motion.

You opened the door, the two men falling into step behind you. You lead them to one of the stairwells you’d noticed earlier, it would take you straight to the top floor. You didn’t want to prolong your stay here any longer, neither of the men with you would admit it but you could see the physical toll their time here had taken. They both moved cautiously and you could see a slight limp from Gaz.

After ascending the stairs, stopping a couple of times to plant explosives, you slowly approached the door. You peeked through the small window in the door. The top floor was much smaller than the rest, the door opened to a large room with one door situated to the right, and one guard stationed in front of it. He was a hulking figure, taller than Ghost but leaner. He stood between you and the room that held the rest of your team.

Years of sparring with Ghost had taught you how to fight an opponent who was stronger and bigger than you. He wanted to make sure you knew how to defend yourself in any situation. Mentally, you thanked him as you formed a plan of attack.

"Let me get him out of the way. Keep going," You unhooked the keys from your vest and handed them to Price. "Ghost and Soap should be through that door. As soon as I engage, move."

"Y/n-" Gaz began to protest but you cut him off.

"Neither of you are in any condition to fight him off and we can't make too much noise until we get through that door. That big fucker is the last thing standing between us and them. I'll be right behind you." You pulled three comms from your vest and handed one to Price and Gaz then put the other in your own ear. You pulled out two more and handed them to Price who tucked them into his pocket. "And if we're still doing our dance by the time you're done then I'll shoot him and we can blow these fuckers sky high."

“Shouldn’t I be giving the orders?” Price spoke with no real heat.

“I’m open to suggestions, I’m a just and fair tyrant.” You smiled and Price shook his head.

"We'll be fast," Gaz spoke up and patted your shoulder.

"You better." You spoke as you exited the stairwell and headed straight for the guard.

He stood up straighter as you got close, eyeing you incredulously. “No one is allowed up here. Name and rank?” He spoke, voice stern.

“Ah yes,” You stopped right in front of him. “Sergeant none ya business.” You smiled and could have sworn you heard Soap’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Who’s your commanding officer?” He raised his voice more, crossing his arms as he stared you down.

“That would be Captain kiss my ass.” This time you were sure you’d heard Soap laughing. Deciding not to further press your luck with the bantering you sent a swift kick into the man's crotch. It was a low blow sure but this was Shadow Company and they deserve far worse for their actions in Las Almas. He doubled over and you used your leverage to throw him to the side and away from the door.

“Now, Price!” You yelled into your comm. Quickly the pair ran from the stairwell and toward the door, unlocking it and heading inside.

Your opponent had recovered and lunged toward you, but easily you dodged. Kicking a leg out you knocked him off balance and onto the floor.

It was a momentarily lapse, your mind focused solely on the opponent in front of you, and you didn't notice the one that had just exited the stairs. A shot rang out, then a scream tore from your throat. The bullet lodged itself into your pelvis and you fell backward. The first guard lunged positioning himself on top of you and wrapping his hands firmly around your throat.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Price’s worried voice sounded in your ear but you couldn’t respond. Your body acted on pure instinct then, grabbing your sidearm and firing two shots. One for the man above you and one for the other, both bullets hitting their mark.

The Shadow fell limp on top of you, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your side screamed in protest at the weight but you were unable to move.

"Y/n, how copy?" Price's voice rang through your ear again as your vision began to blur. Strength slowly left your body as you tried to push the dead Shadow off of you to no avail.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off of you. Ghost and Price threw the Shadow to the side while Soap kneeled next to you. “Y/n you keep those pretty eyes open for me, aye?”

“Doing my best, Johnny.” You wheezed out, the fog quickly leeching into your mind.

He smiled softly at you. “I know.”

Ghost was staring at you behind his mask, worry creasing his eyes. “What’s our exfil?”

“There’s a truck two miles north of here in a clearing.” You spoke, wincing as Soap put pressure on your wound.

"Reinforcements?" Ghost questioned.

Price sighed, "Y/n came alone."

"Bloody hell." Ghost feigned disappointment, despite your current state, he was impressed.

"That's fuckin' badass." Soap beamed at you, squeezing your shoulder.

"That's what I said." Gaz smiled, wincing when he reopened his lip again.

"Stop encouraging them." Price shook his head as he spoke. “Ghost grab them let’s get the hell out of here.”

The conversion sounded further and further away as blood pooled beneath you. You used your last bit of energy to pull the detonator from your vest and handed it to Soap.

“Do the honors would ya?” You breathed out before the world went dark.

Heat radiating in your side brought you slowly to consciousness. Your brain struggled to regain traction in the fog that clouded it. The mission came back to you slowly, the fight, the gunshot, the boys. Panic set in, you didn’t know if they got out. Your eyes shot open as you sat up, violent dots danced in your vision and you could hear movement near you, something beeped incessantly to your right.

A familiar voice entered your ears. “Hey, you’re okay, I got you.”

Calloused hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you. The beeping slowed. “You’re in the hospital on base.”

Your eyes finally cleared and you could see Price standing next to your bed. He gently guided you to lay back down and that's when you noticed the rest of the team at the foot of your bed. Various bandages and bruises littered their bodies but they were alive.

You tried to speak but ended up coughing instead. Ghost appeared in front of you and silently handed you a glass of water with a straw.

“Did I miss a party?” You managed after wetting your throat, voice still hoarse.

“It seems we did.” Soap smiled patting your shin.

“How're you feeling?” Gaz asked.

You shrugged. “Good as I can I guess. Just glad everyone made it out.”

“You did good,” Price spoke. “But don’t ever do that again or I will sign your discharge forms myself.”

“Yes sir.” He smiled at you and patted your shoulder. You knew the statement came from a place of worry. Your infiltration could have easily gone a different route and you could have been sitting in the morgue right now.

Instead, you were surrounded by your found family.

A light atmosphere settled in the room, you watched content as the boys chatted amongst themselves. You laughed at the terrible jokes Ghost and Soap were telling each other. Smiled while Gaz and Price told the story of Gaz falling out of a helicopter for the millionth time. The 141 would live to fight another day and god help anyway who tried to stand in their way.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader (platonic)#task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #mactavsh

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theealbatross · 17 days

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Dark, Slightly Realistic Headcannons (S.S)

Plot: Headcannons on the effects of their traumatic fifth year in Hogwarts had on their dynamics and eventual relationship.

Tags: dark, PTSD, codependency, self-harm (scratching), anxiety, overprotectiveness, trauma, traumatized teenagers are not the best people, IT'S NOT AS BAD AS I MAKE IT SOUND, fluff if u squint, ominis getting stressed out, this storyline is heavily inspired by the background story I gave my character in the game

They are both very popular but also very secretive – in a way that everyone knew them but no one really knew a thing about them. They were almost like a suburban legend in their campus, The Couple who was always together, always huddled in each other despite constantly being the center of the attention.

“Sallow had a twin?”

“I heard she’s one of the few 7th years that was given approval to go into the restricted section for her research.”

“They’ve been engaged since last year?!”

“Look, they’re leaving the campus again.”

If you want to find one, then go look for the other because more often than not they are together. If you can’t find them both, ask Ominis.

Unless you are part of their circle, which is usually just their year-mates, then good luck approaching them. They aren’t hostile but as they grew older, they didn’t get friendlier. And it was for good reason, MC’s anxiety of someone finding out Sebastian’s dark secret and taking him away from her and Sebastian’s fear of the people who are after his girlfriend makes them generally amicable but not exactly approachable.

Suspicious of everyone which is also why they're very protective of each other and their chosen friends.

They were seriously considered to be the Head Boy and Head Girl but both rejected the offer. Imelda was the next best choice but she wanted to focus on becoming a professional quidditch player. So, the mantle was passed to Grace Pitch-Smedley and Ominis Gaunt to the latter’s dismay.

Unhealthy Codependency, but it works for them.

Both will genuinely be tweaking out if you separate them for more than 24 hours. MC feels vulnerable without Sebastian which causes her to lash out at anyone, her ancient magic leaking out in anxiety and Sebastian’s skin itches if he doesn’t know where she is (he literally would scratch his arm till it bled – a painful nervous tic.)

Because of this ‘special circumstance’ and the Gaunts last name, they were allowed to have, more or less, the same schedule throughout their 7th year.

They both have the self-sacrificing disease so they were always keeping an eye on each other.

After The Events of their 5th year, plus MC’s tendency to run alone and headfirst into assured death, and the constant threat to her life from what remains of Rookwood’s organization Sebastian gets a reputation of being insanely protective. The ‘promise ring’ they both wear has a charm that will always leads one to the location of the other, plus it automatically apparates the other when one is in danger.

If you plan to get to talk to his betrothed then you have to get through Sebastian first.

Nothing ever gets through Sebastian.

“No, she can’t find your blasted puffskein in the dark forest.”

“She’s not available because I said so.”

“No, professor, I can’t send her that message. It’s exam season and she has enough on her plate.”

“Dear Officer Singer, the next time you try to send an owl to my fiancé without informing me you will not get it back.”

MC has a soft spot for the younger students but don’t expect her to remember your names. At least Sebastian actually turns you down, she will just stare at you until you awkwardly leave. She was done being everyone’s errand girl.

Every time you think Sebastian’s alone she’s probably just behind him. Or beside him. Or above him. If you think Sebastian's crazy about her then she will show you insane.

Constantly snogging, their professors have given up giving them detention. They’ll just snog there too.

Professors have to beg Ominis to tell them to at least try to hide because there are children in this campus. After an hour long of sermon of how ‘absolutely mortifying it is that I have to tell the two of you to be decent’ they relented. In turn, they just disappeared more often.

In rare good days with good weather, you will find them flying and racing around the highlands.

During exam seasons Sebastian reserves an hour a day to just nap and relax in MC’s lap. Do not, under any circumstances, approach him at this crucial hour unless you wish to risk your life.

They are the Ravenclaws Public Enemy #1 because they clearly don’t pay attention to class yet they’re always at the top of the subjects they actually find interesting. (Potions and Care for Magical Creatures for MC, DADA and Flying for Sebastian). The rivalry even got worse when NEWTs started and Sebastian aimed to be at the top of each class he took to become an Auror.

They get engaged the summer after their 6th year but they don’t get married until Sebastian finishes his training and officially became an Auror because Sebastian wants to ‘earn’ that right and prove to himself and his loved ones that he has turned his back on the Dark Arts for good.

MC becomes a researcher for ancient magic so it becomes a ritual that Sebastian will use up all of his vacation and paid leave at the end of the year to accompany his wife with her travels to different continents

Sebastian fights a dragon in Germany to get the perfect green diamond to place on the engagement ring.

They both take the Unbreakable Vow at their quiet wedding.

They have children but none were seen in public until it was their turn to go to Hogwarts.

Headmistress Weasley does not retire until each and every Sallow has graduated under her careful watch.

She is the longest reigning Headmistress in the history of Hogwarts.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow headcannons

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

What if reader did somehow manage to escape Silas for at least more then a year?

White bunny

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: a year has passed since you escaped Silas. When he finally finds you, you're a shell of what you once were and he desperately tries piecing you back together.

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, panic attacks, a bit of age regressing? (I don't know), broken reader, knife

Word count: 1.6k

He’s found you. He’s finally found you. For a year you’ve managed to keep yourself out of his reach … but not anymore. You’re going to come back home now. He can’t stand to be away from you even a second more.

“Pick the lock”, Silas tells one of his men. “Quietly. If we wake up the other residents in this building they’ll call the cops.”

The man in front of him nods and sinks down on his knees by the front door with his hands full of supplies. Silas watches as he picks the lock with a satisfying feeling in his body. He’ll be able to hold you soon. A year has been too much for him. He usually can’t stay away from you for three hours … let alone a year. The second he sees you, he’ll capture you in his strong arms and never let you go again. His heart hammers in his chest at the thought that there’s only a locked door in between you. Soon.

“It’s open”, the man says.

Silas smiles and opens the door. The apartment is dimly lit, an indication that you must be asleep. His heart swells. Oh, how pretty you must be.

Sadly, one of his men knocks over a vase with his machete. Silas can hear it crash against the floor, but has no time to stop it. Mortified, he looks around, expecting you to stand in any of the door frames. He’s quiet as a dead mouse, listening. He can hear moving in the room to his left and grabs the handle. Locked? He tries again, harsher this time.

“I know it’s you”, he can hear your voice whisper from the other side of the door. “Leave, Silas.”

“L-Leave?” he repeats. “Are you nuts? I’ve been looking for you for a whole fucking year, baby! I’m not going anywhere. And if I am, you’re coming with me. Don’t make me break down this door.”

He feels like a feral animal. Every inch of his body needs to feel you and he’ll go crazy soon if he doesn’t get to have you.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you spit.

Silas turns to his men and gestures for them to pick the lock. Only a few minutes later, Silas opens the door. You’re crouched down in the darkest corner of the bedroom with a knife held out in front of you. Silas breaks out into a relieved smile. It’s really you. His dear, little Y/N.

“Why don’t you put down the knife before you hurt yourself and come over here and give me a big hug, hm?” he asks and opens his arms.

“I’d rather plunge the knife through my heart”, you growl back.

Taken aback is an understatement. Silas frowns in shock.

“Why?” he wonders.

“I don’t want your filthy hands on me!”

“Well, that’s not up to you to choose-”

“No, I’m serious, don’t touch me!”

He freezes at your tone. You sound absolutely horrified at the thought of him touching you? Everything about your body language is in defense. You seem ready to attack him if he moves just the slightest bit closer. You’ve never been like this before. WHat has happened to you?

“Y/N, put down the knife”, he says again, calmer this time, testing the waters. “I’m just going to talk to you. Okay?”

You shake your head quickly, lifting the knife with shaking hands.

“Take it”, he orders one of his men.

The designated man moves closer and you swing the knife wherever you can reach, cutting him here and there, but he is like a machine — not moving an inch. He grabs the knife out of your hands and backs away. You’re defenseless now, just like Silas wants you to be. He walks over to you and sinks down in a squat to take in the sight of you. Your entire body is shaking violently, wide eyes following his slightest motions. Silas reaches out his hand to stroke your head and calm you down, but you scream in terror and cover your face with your arms.

“Baby, I wasn’t going to hurt you”, he says, growing worried. “What’s wrong, little thing?”

he can hear you whisper something and leans closer to hear. A mantra of ‘don’t touch me, don’t touch me’ leaves your trembling lips. He can feel his heart sink to his stomach. Did he do this to you? He can’t have … can he?

“Give me the rope”, he says over his shoulder. “If I can’t touch them, I have to make a leash or something.”

Your cries escalate. Silas turns to look at you with even more despair.

“P-Please”, you beg incoherently. “A-Anything but that. Please!”

Silas gulps. This is his doing, a hundred percent. The touching can be coincidental, but he’s the only one who’s kept you tied. Things start to click together. Oh, what an idiot he is.

“Little thing, look at me”, he says. “I’m not going to touch you and I’m not going to tie you, but I’m not leaving this apartment without you. You got that?”

You nod quickly. He wants nothing more than to wipe your tears and hold you tightly in his arms, but he won’t be able to hear more of your cries. He starts to think of a way to get you out of here without frightening you even more, but his worries are quickly resolved. The lack of air you got when hyperventilating has made you black out.

“I’ll take them”, Silas says and lifts you up in his arms. “Don’t worry, little thing, when we get home, you’ll go back to normal.”

Oh, how wrong Silas was. You’re quiet and reserved and refuse to be touched. All you do is sit in bed while hugging your legs to your body and keep your eyes down on the mattress. He has to come up with a solution to make you relax. You haven’t slept or eaten in days now. He leaves to go to the store in hope to find something to get you loosened up. While looking through aisles of scented candles and body lotion, he sees the children’s department. With one last resort, he walks over to the stuffed animals.

“Are you sure Y/N would like a stuffed animal?” his second in command asks hesitantly.

“What other fucking choice do I have?” he groans. “If they refuse to hug me, I guess I have to find a substitute. I can’t fucking listen to their crying anymore. They barely want to be in the same bed as me. This has to stop before I go insane.”

“Which one should you pick?”

“I think the white bunny will be the best alternative.”

He picks out the fluffy animal and heads straight for the cashier. The woman seems to recognize him, but doesn’t say anything. Silas is grateful for it. He’s in no headspace to be dealing with people today. All he wants is to see his little angel happy.

When he comes home, he notices that his bedroom door is open.

“Shit!” he gasps and looks around, seeing his second in command. “Get the car, they escaped again!”

He’s just about to pass the guest room when he notices that the door is ajar. Carefully, he peaks in, finding you lying on the bed in a fetal position. Silas sticks out his head in the corridor and alerts the second in command that you’re found before sneaking into the guest room.

“Hey, baby”, he whispers gently. “I got you something.”

You don’t move.

“Here”, he says, placing the white bunny on the bedside table.

Silas holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. He silently begs for you to like it. Carefully, you sit up and pet the soft toy. Silas notices how your eyes aren’t … dull anymore. You seem to recognize the toy somehow.

“D-Do you like it?” Silas asks nervously.

“Bunny …”, you whisper.

“Yes! Yes, it’s a bunny. I got it for you. Do you like it?”

You nod slowly and take it in your hands. For a few seconds you feel around before hugging it close to your chest. Silas breathes out in relief.

“Why are you here?” he asks. “I thought you ran away again …”

“I didn’t want to be in there”, you mumble. “Want to be away from you.”

“But … you’re mine. We’re meant to be together. I haven’t touched or tied you a single time since we came home. Why can’t you at least acknowledge my presence?”

“Scary …”

“I’m not meaning to- … wait, why do you talk like that?”

You look at him questionably.

“You talk … almost baby like”, he says slowly. “What’s going on?”

You hug the bunny closer.

“Oh … I get it”, he says, nodding. “Would you like to watch ‘Scooby Doo’ with me? In the living room? We can get you some vanilla ice cream and those cookies you mentioned that you liked when you were a kid.”

You nod. Silas breaks out into a smile and nods along.

“Alright”, he says. “Let’s go downstairs.”

You voluntarily follow him down to the living room, hugging the toy closely. He can’t seem to figure out why you suddenly started to act younger than you actually are, but he's not going to question it. You’re not crying, you’re not telling him to go away. That’s good enough. He creates a fort of pillows and blankets on the floor for the two of you to sit on, almost making a pillow fort. If you need childhood stuff, he’ll give them to you.

Silas gives you glances throughout the movie. He knows he has gotten a second chance. You’re broken and it’s all because of him. He breathes in. This time, he’ll be careful. He’ll never hurt you again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #silas oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male

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neteyamssyulang · 8 months

Text

Accidental stimulation

Day 9

Pairing: Neteyam aged up x Fem tawtute reader

Summary: you and Neteyam grew up together as your father Norm and his father Jake were close friends. One day as your over at the sully’s you notice his stare lingering on you but don’t comment on it till that night when something happens.

Warnings: Dom Neteyam, Sub reader, P in V, Fingering, Explicit language, Creampie, Bit of kuru play.

Word count: 1365

Translation(s): Ma yuey syulang -> my beautiful flower, Yawne -> Beloved.

A/N: so this is my first kinktober post! I hope you all enjoy <3

Tags: @pandoraslxna @teyamsatan -idk who else would want to be tagged😭-

It was a quiet day in the lab, the scientists all agreeing that one day off wouldn’t hurt so they all slept in. You had jus woken up and changed into a simple blue T-shirt along with black shorts when there was a knock on your door.

“One minute!” You shout at whoever is there but the knocking persists making you annoyed. Huffing you open the door only to see Lo’ak holding his hands up in surrender.

“Easy tiny” he chuckles nervously. “Mom and dad wanted me to invite you over tonight”

Your face lit up at his words as you loved going to the sully’s and hopefully spending the night. It was your second home besides the lab. “Ok, I’ll be there”

Nodding at words he goes to leave but hisses in pain as a book gets thrown at the back of his head. “Next time knock only once skxawng”

He gulps before running to the exit of the lab covering his head in fear of more books or anything being thrown at him.

He’s so annoying but you love him like a brother. You spend the next few hours just relaxing in your room only going out to get some food or water.

When the time finally came for you to head to the sully’s you quickly changed into an oversized shirt along with baggy sweats as it could get pretty cold, atleast for you.

Exiting the lab you walk on the path towards the village while keeping an eye out for any predators that might want a human as a late night snack.

After a few minutes you reach the village and make your way to the sully’s hut eventually entering it. Looking around you see Neytiri preparing some fresh telu along with slices of yovu fruit.

Your mouth watering at the sight, you’ve always preferred na’vi food over the food the scientists made, it just tasted better for some reason.

The woman glances up at you and smiles “Come in, come in Ma’Ite” she gestures for you to come inside and sit which you do. Your seated next to her watching as she continues preparing dinner.

She must have sensed your confusion on where everyone else is so she speaks “Jake took them to the lake so afterwards they’ll be tired and sleep, especially Tuk”

You stifle a giggle and nod “That was a smart idea” to which she chuckles softly nodding. A few minutes pass before Jake walks into the hut carrying Tuk while Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri follow behind.

Jake places Tuk on the other side of Neytiri, he then takes his spot infront of you leaving Neteyam to sit next to you and Lo’ak by Jake. That’s how it always was, except for this time when he traded places with Lo’ak making you curious but didn’t say anything.

Once everyone was eating you noticed Neteyam glancing at you while he ate only to look away when you tried capturing his gaze with yours. That happened all throughout dinner till Jake and Neytiri said for everyone to go to bed.

Thanking them for the food you went to where your sleeping mat was at the corner of the hut with a privacy screen around it. Jake installed it as you grew older so you’d be more comfortable, you liked it yes but didn’t really need it, or so you thought.

Your woken up to the sound of the privacy screen opening only to be closed again shortly afterwards. Closing your eyes again you pretend your sleeping so whoever it is can leave.

“Ma yuey syulang..” the person mumbles quietly and immediately you know it’s him.

“I know your awake y/n” Neteyam whispers next to your ear sending shivers down your spine. You still pretend to be asleep hinting for him to go away since no one’s allowed in here but you obviously.

“Teyam go, your not allowed in here” you whisper shout at him but he doesn’t budge. Instead he lays down spooning you while his tail wraps protectively around your thigh. “But I missed my favorite tawtute”

You groan annoyed but sigh “Then shh and let me sleep.” He says a quick ok before nuzzling into your neck inhaling your comforting scent and moves his leg between yours accidentally pressing against your core making you whimper softly.

An idea suddenly pops into his mind and as your trying to fall back asleep you feel him slip his hand down past your pants into your panties cupping your mound in his palm.

“T-teyam? What are you do-“ your cut off as he plunges two of his long fingers into your drenched hole. It took everything in you to not scream as his family is just on the other side of the screen.

“Shh sevin, gotta stretch you first” your bestfriend says as he starts pumping his fingers into you curling them. Placing a hand on your mouth you try to hold back your moans but damn does it feel good.

Neteyam smirks feeling your walls fluttering against his fingers signaling you were close. “Come on sevin, cum for me”

Your body immediately obeys releasing onto his fingers while holding back your moans, he groans pulling them out of you before licking them clean. “You taste so good yawne.”

Quickly he unties his tewng taking it off throwing it off to side doing the same with your pants and panties as he lays down on his back pulling you ontop of him. “Your too big Teyam it’s not going to fit..”

He chuckles softly “Oh it will don’t worry.” With that he presses the tip to your entrance slowly sinking you down onto him. “F-fuck your so tight..” he says through clenched teeth trying to be quiet still.

You can’t even form any words, his cock is stretching you out so deliciously good so when he finally bottoms out his mushroomy tip is nested against your cervix.

After getting adjusted you give him the go ahead to move and he slowly starts to thrust up into you. “Eywa you feel so good” the na’vi whimpers softly.

With his help you begin to move against him matching his thrusts making you hold your hand to your mouth to stifle the moans threatening to break free.

Your other hand reaches down for his kuru gently tugging on it making him hiss in both pain and pleasure. You watch his eyes widen as you bring the beautiful pink tendrils to your tongue letting them wrap around it.

He shudders pumping faster inside you making you let go of his kuru, it detaches from your tongue and you collapse ontop of him hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Taking the chance he wraps one arm around your waist and the other around your neck keeping you in place as he goes harder.

You want to scream, let him know how good he’s making you feel but you can’t. The only sounds in the hut are of his family snores and the faint sound of his balls slapping against your clit which immediately send you over the edge.

“Almost there yawne almost there I promise” he pants quietly. Squeezing his eyes shut he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching, you feel him throb inside you before he stills spilling his hot load deep into your empty womb.

Carefully he sits up and pulls out of you with a squelching sound watching his cum drip down your thighs. He lowers you onto the sleeping mat getting a cloth and dips it into a bowl with water cleaning you up as gently as he could.

Finding your panties he decides to keep them for himself and just put your pants back on while he puts his tewng back on stuffing your panties into it for safekeeping.

Honestly you don’t care about that but smile as he lays down pulling you ontop of him whispering “Goodnight yawne.” You manage to mumble out a goodnight too as you eventually fall asleep listening to his heartbeat.

Making sure your asleep and alright the mighty warrior allows himself to fall into a deep peaceful sleep.

#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam #adult neteyam #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam smut #avatar kinktober #follow #like #comments really appreciated #neteyamssyulang #jake sully #neytiri sully #avatar pandora #james cameron avatar #avatar the way of water

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 1 month

Text

Not Drunk Enough | Kim Hongjoong

-> Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader -> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account. -> Synopsis: Hongjoong remains relatively sober to help his girlfriend and Yunho with the others. -> Warnings: Drunkteez. Alcohol, drinking, being drunk. DRINK RESPONSIBLY. DO NOT DRINK IF YOUR UNDERAGE. drunkTEEZ. -> Word Count: 377 -> Requests: Open.

ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 woojoongstreasure - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

Y/N could see her boyfriend’s patience growing thinner and thinner as the night goes on. Between San being the light weight that he is and Wooyoung’s loudmouth causing an argument between him and Jongho, it was becoming obvious that the captain was regretting his decision to only have two drinks to remain relatively sober.

Hongjoong promised Y/N and Yunho, who was remaining sober for the schedules he has the next day, that he would help them with the others if they got too drunk and chaotic. Drunk and chaotic they quickly became after a few drinks in them.

Noticing San passed out on one of the couches, she thought it would be best if he’s moved to the spare bedroom that doubles as her home office.

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” she hears Hongjoong mutter under his breath as he stands up from his spot beside you. He steps between Jongho, Wooyoung and Mingi that were in a heated discussion he had no interest in, defusing the situation before moving over to San to help Yunho move him into the bedroom office.

He's back a few minutes later after making sure San is okay and telling Yunho to grab a bottle of water and some pain meds to place on the bedside table.

“Date night tomorrow night?” She asks moving back into his arms after he sits back down. “We can leave the kids at home.”

“You think they’ll be okay for a few hours?” He jokes but agrees to her plan.

“Their mother will be with them,” she chuckles looking towards Seonghwa playing paper, scissors, rock with Yeosang and giggling every time he wins. “It's been too long since we've had a proper date night without one or two of them joining us."

Hongjoong chuckles, his arms tightening around her. "You're right. We've been so caught up with our work and taking care of everyone else that we've neglected us. I’ll let the guys know tomorrow, when they’re sober that they’re on their own for a few hours tomorrow night."

As they watched his members, their friends, a sense of contentment washes over the both of them. Despite the chaos that comes with them, they are grateful for the family they’ve built with them.

TAGGING: @hollxe1 – @laylasbunbunny – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @yeonjunnie

Because I can only tag 10 blogs at a time, the rest of the tags will be placed in the comments.

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saylorsaysstop · 4 months

Text

Dessert Plans | Jason Todd 18+

↪ Masterlist (Jason) | Masterlist (Dick)

pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

The scent of rosemary and garlic fills the space of your apartment, causing your mouth to water and your stomach to grumble. A long day spent confined to a classroom teaching a bunch of tired and grumpy 7th graders had you summoning for the bell to ring and for the day to be over. Luckily, it was also Friday, so you had a long weekend ahead.

But back to that delicious scent. Your mouth continues to water as you slip out of your shoes and put your bag down by the door. The sound of singing echoes from your kitchen. A grin plasters your face as the speaker plays Anti-Hero.

Jason, at first, would never admit that songs belonging to a world-renowned popstar would escape his lips but you caught him red-handed one too many times until he realized that he couldn’t hide it from you.

“Jay?” you call out to your boyfriend. His back turned to you, you make out the outline of pure muscle that strains beneath his gray t-shirt. It clings to him and cuffs around his biceps. You groan softly at the sight of him. Jason Todd is gorgeous. Undoubtedly, you scored quite literally the jackpot of men with his generosity, need to protect, and dangerously good looks.

His head turns swiftly, the last string of the chorus leaving his lips.

“Baby,” Jason chuckles, spatula in hand. He glances between you and whatever is on the stovetop behind him. He quickly cuts the heat down to a low simmer before making his way over to you. Strong arms engulf you, the smell of leather and smoke crowding your senses in what can only be described as euphoric.

You lazily tangle your arms around his waist and smother your face against his chest where you lightly kiss the patch of skin that peeks through the V of his t-shirt.

“How was your day?” Jason asks, kissing the top of your head. He stands much taller than you, practically swallowing you. Dick loved to joke about your drastic height difference, poking fun by asking, “Hey? Where is she? I don’t see her.” when you’re standing behind Jason.

“Exhausting,” you chuckle in response. “We had an exam review today. I’ve got high hopes they’ll all pass but you know how it goes.”

Jason smiled and took your hand, leading you to the barstool that sits in front of the counter. “Go on, take a seat. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

“Sounds lovely, Jay. What are you making? Smells amazing.” you breathe a sigh of relief when the ache in your feet subsides the moment you take a seat. Jason grabs a wine glass from the top shelf with perfect ease and confiscates the bottle of wine from the fridge. He pours you a glass and sets it in front of you before returning to his work at the stove.

“Your favorite. Garlic potatoes and rosemary chicken.”

Groaning with excitement, Jason laughs.

“No patrol tonight?” You question, sipping the wine. There are many nights when you come home and Jason is getting ready to join Dick and Tim. The early hours of the morning are when you’d feel the bed dip and strong arms wrap around you, bringing you to his chest, your neck smothered with his hot mouth and his large limbs tangling with yours. But nights like this– they were few and far between. But Jason valued romance and wanted nothing more than to keep it alive. He wanted to make up for the moments he missed. It took him so long to find someone worth it, someone to relieve him of his stress, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry his burdens alone on his back.

A new side of Jason was born when you two came together. A light came on within him and it shone brightly. He was quite the comedian, oftentimes using his death as a means to humor his brothers and Bruce. There have been countless times Jason reminded Bruce and his brothers at the dinner table at Wayne Manor that he had the up on them because he had seen death. Cue the jabbing of your elbow into his side and him bursting out laughing.

“Nope. I’m all yours.” Jason smiled widely at you. “Told the boys I had a hot date.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. “A hot date–really?”

“Mmhm. The hottest woman in all of Gotham City… Told them I was hoping she could put me in detention tonight…”

Your eyes widen as Jason saunters back over and takes a sip from your wine, his nose scrunching up. “Shit. That’s horrible.”

You snatch the stem out of his hand and push him back with your foot.“Stick to the hard stuff, Todd. Leave my poison alone. And detention? Since when did you like role-playing?”

Jason smirks with a sparkle in those green eyes that promises to be your downfall. With two large hands, he reaches out and skims them under the hem of your skirt. Calloused fingertips ignite fires along the skin of your thighs as Jason reaches as far as the fabric will allow him. He digs into the supple flesh and grunts, shaking his head.

“There’s always room to try something new, baby. You know that.” he leans forward and captures your lips for a kiss. You hum and set the wineglass down so you can give your all into the kiss. His tongue glides with yours. You lay one hand over the back of his neck while the other cups his cheek. Jason hums deliciously, the vibrations sending shockwaves into your lower belly until the floodgates threaten to open.

“Let’s get through dinner, yeah? Then you’re all mine.” Jason pulls away, leaving you breathless.

“What’d you have in mind?” You can’t help but ask, eyelashes fluttering at the dizziness overcoming you.

Jason does that thing you love so much that he slowly undresses you with his eyes. He starts at your face before trailing down your blouse and eyeing your chest before he travels his gaze down the journey of your stomach until his mind is locked on the image of you naked and ready for him, a sight that fits the term glorious.

“I’m going to clean up this kitchen and while I do so, you’re going to put on that little red lace set you know drives me crazy… I want you relaxed and feeling sexy because, after that, you’re due back in this kitchen for dessert.”

Your eyes widen as you sink your teeth into your lip. “What kind of dessert?”

Jason tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and nips your bottom lip quickly.

“The one between your thighs, baby. My favorite. I’m going to spread you so wide on this table and eat you until you’re begging for me to stop. Until you’re so spent that the only name you’re able to moan is mine… Until my need is satiated. Want you to come so hard on my tongue that every night I’m out on patrol this week, I’ll remember your taste… That’s the dessert I’ve got planned for you.” He winks before kissing you quickly on the cheek and returning to the stove.

“Jason,” You gasp, your core throbbing at his imagery.

“Hope you’re hungry.” Jason shoots you another wicked smile before grabbing plates and fixing dinner.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x female reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood smut #jason todd smut #jason todd fic

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ladytauria · 7 months

Note

"tell me a secret" with jaytim if youre still taking prompts, been enjoying all of the snippets!

um.

so.

this one ran away with me. a little bit.

it's. it feels very messy. but i like the direction i ended up going with it. i think--- i think i might revisit this premise again. but for now, nonny, i hope you like it!

(also, i'm glad you enjoyed my snippets~)

There are few things worse than truth pollen, in Tim’s opinion. Give him fear gas or sex pollen any day of the week. Losing control of his tongue, confessions spilling from his mouth, helpless to do anything to stop it… It makes him shudder just to think about.

However—

He would gladly have taken a blast of truth pollen right to the face, if it meant Jason wouldn’t have.

Jason’s locked himself in an isolation cell, now, while Tim synthesizes an antidote. The general pollen vaccine had done little to help the effects of this strain. Confessions had tumbled from Jason’s lips all the way home, all through the blood draw. Tim tries hard not to think about them, to forget them completely, but they linger in the back of his mind. Whether he wants them to be or not, he knows they’ve been imprinted in the back of his mind, where they’ll be sorted and cataloged, brought out later if ever he needs them.

He never forgets. It’s something of a curse.

As soon as the antidote finishes, Tim sends it to Jason through a panel in the isolation cell. It should take an hour for it to kick in—Tim will be upstairs, whenever Jason is ready.

Two hours pass before Jason joins him. Tim sits at the kitchen island, hands around a mug. Steam still wafts up from it; his face warm and damp where it caresses his skin.

“That better not be coffee,” Jason says. He sounds even grumpier than usual—not that Tim can blame him.

He chooses not to comment on his mood, for the moment.

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s tea.” He pauses. “Herbal tea.”

Jason grunts.

“There’s some for you on the counter.” He gestures.

Jason rounds the counter, finally coming into view. Tim’s shoulders loosen a little at the sight of him; curls and skin damp from a shower, cotton tee sticking to him. Sweatpants ride low on his hips. His socks have little gray cats on them.

“Did your cameras alert you I was coming up?”

Tim ignores the confrontational sneer in his tone. “No.”

For a moment, Jason’s body tenses like he’s going to challenge him on it—turn it into a fight, until one of them storms out or ends up sleeping in the guest room. Then he finds his tea, in a thermal traveling cup. The tension drains from him, then; weariness in the bow of his shoulders. He takes the cup and joins Tim at the island, settling onto the stool next to his.

Their shoulders brush. Tim knows it’s as close to an apology as he’ll get right now. He brushes against him again when he raises his mug to his mouth; a silent forgiveness.

Jason drinks his tea. He hums softly; a quiet, pleased noise.

They drink in silence. Tim wouldn’t describe it as comfortable, but the air isn’t as thick with tension as it could have been. He knew they would have to address it before they went to sleep; knew, for a while at least, that things would be… delicate. He’s not looking forward to walking on tiptoes—but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than Jason leaving.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim murmurs, finally. “I’m not— I won’t ask. We can pretend like you never said anything.”

Jason is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. Tim isn’t sure he would have heard it, if he hadn’t been listening for it.

He brushes against him again, as he gets up to put his mug in the sink. He smooths his hand over Jason’s back; from one shoulder to the other as he walks by—both touches a silent reassurance.

He puts his mug in the sink and stops by Jason again. This time, he kisses his temple. “I’m going to bed,” he murmurs. “Join me when you’re ready.”

Jason leans into his touch—turning, when Tim pulls away, to catch around the waist and pull him close. He kisses the corner of Tim’s eye. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Tim squeezes his forearm. “I love you too,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a moment—a long moment. And then, finally, Jason lets him go, smearing another kiss against his skin when he does. Tim lingers a moment more, and then he heads off to their bedroom.

It’s maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Jason joins him, curling up in Tim’s arms; letting Tim plaster himself against his back, sighing sweetly when Tim’s chin rests atop his curls. He tangles their fingers together over their stomach.

Tim falls asleep knowing everything is going to be okay.

Tim doesn’t just forget about it. He can’t—though he tries. The things Jason said turn over and over in his mind, every time there’s a lull at work, on patrol, in the quiet moments he spends with Jason. He keeps his word. He doesn’t ask about them. He doesn’t even go digging through Batman’s files, or the city’s files—although the temptation sits heavy on his shoulders.

Instead—he ends up thinking, again and again, about secrets.

About Jason’s. About his own. About all the things that sit, buried deep under his tongue, where he would never dare to speak them aloud. But the more he thinks about the more he sees them as cracks—fissures, things not sitting quietly in himself but things keeping them apart.

He finds himself wanting to dig them up. To look at them in the light, offer them to Jason; see if he finds even those parts of him worth loving.

He wants to do the same to Jason. To look at the ugliest parts of him again—this time without the wrongness of pollen coating them—and cradle them in his hands, tuck them in the spaces between his ribs. Soothe the hurts they left behind.

Tim knows Jason won’t let him.

But.

Tim has never needed reciprocation.

He starts offering them, impromptu, in their quiet moments.

“Sometimes I feel more like myself in a dress and heels than I do in a suit,” he confesses, while Jason is reading; Tim’s head in his lap while he plays on his switch. “I’ve thought about looking into it—but honestly. Exploring... that on top of everything else just sounds exhausting.”

Jason pauses, fingers in Tim’s hair, and says, “If you ever want to, I’ll support you. I’ll love you, no matter what you decide.”

Tim turns and kisses his stomach.

A few days later, they’re cooking together. Tim stirs noodles, while Jason chops vegetables. “The first time I dressed up as a woman, I looked so much like my mother I almost couldn’t leave the manor. I don't think I would have, if not for the mission.”

The knife pauses; the sound of chopping stops. “That must have been a lot,” Jason says, tentatively.

Tim doesn’t have to look over to know Jason is giving him a weird look. He can feel it on the back of his head.

“It was,” he agrees. “Are you sure I salted this enough?”

His next confession is delivered when Tim is donning one of his aliases for an undercover job. Jason is sweet enough to do up his zipper for him.

“I created my first alias when I was seven. I mean, I guess it was more playing pretend, but... I dunno. It felt more serious than that, even then. I kept making more as I got older, trying them on... whenever I felt like it. Now it’s something I do as a hobby, to keep my skills sharp, but there was a time when I wanted to be anyone other than Tim Drake.”

Jason meets his eyes in the mirror; gaze unfathomable. “What changed?”

Tim’s lips quirk. “It’s hard to fall in love as anyone but yourself.”

The flush on Jason’s face is vivid red. Tim is helpless to do anything but turn and kiss him.

After a fight, Tim calls Jason. It goes straight to voicemail—not unexpected. It still makes his heart clench. He ignores it, instead offering,

“Jason… I’m sorry, for what I said, earlier. It— It wasn’t true. I meant it when I said I can live with you killing. I don’t—I don’t… The truth is, I don’t disagree with your methods. I’m tempted to join you, sometimes. A lot of times. I’m tempted to go even further, too. I… Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me from going bad is Dick’s disappointment. Bruce’s, too, but. I don’t care what he thinks as much anymore.

“Some days the temptation is stronger than others, though. And that— It scares me. I cling tighter to the rules in response. I… It’s not an excuse for me to hurt you, though. I’m sorry. I love you. Come home whenever you’re ready.” He’s crying when he finishes, hanging up the phone. Thinks about staying in the basement; distracting himself with cold cases instead of going to bed.

He decides he’s disappointed Jason enough.

Jason comes home that night. Slips into their bed, gathering Tim in his arms.

“You could never go bad,” he whispers. “You’re too fucking good, Tim.”

Tim shakes his head, burying his face in Jason’s neck. “If I convinced myself it was right, or for a good cause…” He holds him tighter.

Jason is quiet. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Tim doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t let you.”

Tim knows Jason has broken his own moral code more than once.

He also knows that Jason is far more careful with the people he loves than he is himself.

It’s a trait they share.

So he nods. “Okay.”

“And you’ll do the same for me,” he says, softly—almost tentatively.

Tim holds him tighter. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for so long Tim thinks he falls asleep. Then, he offers, quietly, “Sometimes I think I’ll go too far, and— You’ll leave. Or that you’ll wake up one day, and realize I’m not going to change, that… That you can’t handle the killing after all. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.” He doesn’t say, I thought I was losing you tonight, but Tim hears it anyway.

He kisses Jason’s neck. “You won’t,” he says, confidently. “But— If you ever do, or if it looks like you’re going to— I promise I’ll tell you. Warn you. I won’t just disappear without giving you a chance.”

Jason shudders in his arms. He tucks his face in Tim’s hair—Tim cups the back of his neck in response. “Feels like all you’ve given me a hundred second chances,” he whispers.

Tim nuzzles him. “I’ll give you a hundred more. You’re worth it.”

Jason starts making his own confessions, after that.

He lights a candle on the coffee table, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood. Then he stops. Turns his lighter over in his hand—flicks it on, then off again.

“I didn’t stop smoking because of how I died, or the Pit, or Talia, or for my health, or—any of the bullshit reasons I told everyone else. Sheila— Cigarettes remind me of her. The way she just sat there and watched.”

Tim stands, stepping into his space. He winds his arms around Jason’s waist. “You deserved better,” he says, quietly.

“We both did.”

‘We’ means Tim and Jason. It also means Sheila and Jason. Tim doesn’t know if he agrees with the latter—but. Whatever else she was, she was Jason’s mother, and that means something to Jason. So, he says nothing. Just presses a kiss to Jason’s shoulder.

After a rough patrol, another argument between Jason and Bruce—one that took both Nightwing and Red Robin to break up—Jason sits in the medbay of Tim’s nest, letting him stitch up his arm.

Tim is almost done, when Jason says, “I’ve given up on Bruce killing the Joker for me. I wish he’d let me do it. More than that—I just. I want him to tell me, to my face, that he missed me. That he loved me. That the loss of me was something painful. That—That he still loves me. I don’t. I don’t want to hear it from someone else. But I know— I know he won’t. The man who would have died with me, and sometimes I think that’s the worst of it all.”

Tim snips the thread, laying the needle down. He kisses the skin just above the wound, and lingers there. “I’m sorry.”

Jason is quiet. Then he turns, pressing his nose into Tim’s hair. He doubts it smells great—he hasn’t had time to hit the showers yet—but Jason doesn’t seem to care. “Me too,” he whispers.

Tim gets a box of cologne samples in the mail. He’s going through them, just for fun—handing the ones he likes best to Jason. As he passes over the third, Jason says,

“I don’t remember what Mom’s voice sounded like anymore—but. I found the perfume she loved. It was one of the most expensive things we owned. She only got it out for special occasions, or—or when she was sad, and needed something to help remind her of the good times. I— When I smell it, I can almost hear her again. Singing in the kitchen, or… Reading with me on the couch.”

Tim puts the cologne samples down. He tucks himself against Jason’s side and holds him tight. The vulnerability in Jason’s voice, in his expression… It scares Tim almost as much as it awes him. He just— He wants to protect him, to hold the softest parts of Jason close, where nothing and no one can hurt him again.

It’s an impossible wish, but. That won’t stop him from trying.

“Tell me about her?” he asks softly, laying his cheek over Jason’s heart. The steady beat is calming.

Hesitatingly—haltingly—

Jason does.

It keeps going. Back and forth.

“Sometimes I think no one actually wants me around—that people are happier when I’m not there.”

“I think I left a piece of myself in the grave. It hurts less that it’s missing these days, but. It still hurts.”

“I never felt like I was alive until I became Robin. That’s part of why losing it hurt so much.”

“Sometimes Bruce and Dick will mention things—and I don’t remember them. They sound like happy memories, but, when I go poking around, all I can find are blank spaces. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“In the early days—sometimes Bruce would forget, and call me by your name. I… It feels awful to admit, but. Those nights were my favorite.”

“I hate looking in the mirror. For—for a million fucking reasons, but one of ‘em is how much I look like my dad. Like Willis. He wasn’t a bad man, except when he drank. He just… he drank a lot. I don’t want to be him.”

Secrets traded, back and forth. A lot of them big, some of them small. Always in the quietest moments, in the carefullest tones. Each one met with acceptance, with love.

Tim feels freer than he ever has. Not even swinging between buildings leaves his step so light.

He thinks Jason feels the same; thinks he smiles more, now. Tim has caught him humming in the kitchen more than once—finds himself humming the same tune.

Tim has never needed reciprocation to love someone.

Jason has given it to him anyway.

Ivy’s not done with truth pollen—determined to perfect this strain. This time, Tim is on the other side of the city when Jason catches a face full. He doesn’t miss a beat; working with Spoiler to wrangle her back to Arkham. As soon as it’s handled, he beelines back to the Nest.

Tim meets him there.

Jason doesn’t lock himself in an isolation cell, this time. He works with Tim to distill the antidote. Tim isn’t foolish enough to believe that all of the secrets Jason has buried in the recesses of his mind have come to light. He knows his haven’t. He knows, too, that for both of them, there are some which never will. That's okay. Jason has shared enough that the pollen’s compulsion has little to cling to; little to nourish its roots.

So this time—he doesn’t talk as much, this time; only the occasional confession spilling from his lips.

Most of them make Tim blush.

It’s a torturous hour—albeit for entirely different reasons than last time—and it ends not with a shared cup of tea but Tim pinned to the wall in the Nest shower, Jason on his knees, worshiping him until stars burst behind his eyes.

Tim turns the tables on him as soon as he remembers which way is up—and then they stumble upstairs, to bed, curling into one another like two mis-matched halves.

Jason tangles their fingers together. “Tell me a secret,” he whispers, to the darkness of the room.

Tim does.

#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #asks and answers #lovely anons #this is almost 3k <3

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

Text

El Viaje | Sam Kerr x Reader

Words: 2.3k Summary: Sam’s done her ACL and the journey proves to be tough

“Sam? It’s 12:30 in the morning, what’s wrong?” my voice is groggy and hoarse as I pick up the phone.

Nothing is said in reply but a small shuttering gasp trickles through the speaker. I was very familiar with that sound. The one of Sam trying not to cry. It alarms me, so I scurry to sit up against the hotel headboard and turn on the lamp, as if it will make me concentrate better on the conversation.

“Chicka? What happened? Shouldn’t you be in training?” the Chelsea team had travelled to Morocco for some hot weather training, leaving them only 1 hour ahead of London but 9 hours behind Brisbane, so the timing was odd.

“I-” she chokes on her words and my heart clenches, as if I could feel whatever pain and sadness she was feeling.

“I won’t be going back to training. Not for a while.” my fiancé’s usual candour isn’t anywhere to be seen as she drags out the admission.

“Sam what are you going on about?”

Another one of those almost silent cries escapes her mouth.

“Sam please telling me what the fuck is going on or I’ll call Emma.” I grow even more worried as I flick through all the possibilities of what could have happened in my mind.

“Can we facetime? I want to see your face, it’ll make me feel better.” I’m requesting the facetime call before she can even finish, and it takes no time at all for me to be met with her face.

Her solemn, tear stained, lip quivering face. I nearly start crying just looking at her. I’ve only seen her look so defeated a small number of times, but it never gets easier. I desperately want to magically transport to Morocco and just hold her.

“Oh Sam, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I did my ACL.” The words don’t process in my head for a moment. She can’t possibly have said what I think she said.

“What?” it’s a whisper of disbelief but her face shows me everything I need to know. I feel sick as I stare into her eyes. Eyes that are usually so full of light and joy, dark and sullen in pain.

“I’m flying to Morocco. Next flight out.”

“No, we leave the day after tomorrow, it’d be a waste.”

“Sam-”

“You’re spending time with Sharn and Tameka, I’ll be okay.” The mention of my best friend and our Matildas teammate nearly makes me want to laugh.

“I’ve been here for 5 days; I went to their game last night, they’ll understand. Sharn’s coming to England in a couple months anyway. Say the word and I’ll fly out, whenever you want.” I can see the fight on her face.

“Please fly home, to England. I need you.” Tears well up in her eyes and I can feel them fighting on my waterline as well.

“Of course chicka.”

My flight gets in an hour before the team’s is supposed to. I sit in the secluded hallway I know they’ll eventually make their way down, leg bouncing non-stop and hands sweating. I’ve seen Sam injured, I’ve nursed her back to health, I’ve done everything you can imagine, but an ACL is different. Worse in every way.

Soon I begin to hear the chatter and footsteps often associated with the Chelsea team and rapidly stand up to greet them. Emma is the first one around the corner, closely followed by Jessie and Zećira. Each of them greet me and pass on a sorrowful smile before continuing down the hall.

It takes a little longer for Sam to make her way around, surrounded by Millie, Guro, and Erin; all of them are laughing and smiling at something Erin said. It takes me a few seconds but I’m taking off down the hall to meet the group who don’t notice me until I’m right in front of them. Where I usually would pick Sam up and spin her around, I have to stop myself, the crutches serving as a reminder to why I’m back early.

“Chickadee!” she smiles at me with that beautiful, joyful smile I’m used to, and I can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to both her cheeks. Eventually she presses her own lips to mine, clearly sick of waiting.

“How’re you feeling?” Sam rolls her eyes, knowing I’m going to start fussing over her, and the girls around us laugh.

“I’m good. Millie’s been nursing me.” The friendly giant blonde grins proudly at us at the comment.

“Good, but now you have an actual nurse to look after you.” I grab Sam’s bag that Erin has a hold of, and the backpack that’s in Guro’s hand.

When we get home, I heave both lots of our bags through the house before cautiously trailing behind Sam who makes her way to our bedroom. She drops down onto the bed and I get nervous at the way her leg bounces as it absorbs the shock. I kneel down to start untying her shoes as she peels off her Chelsea travel jacket.

“I can do it you know?” Sam was ever the stubborn individual, and rarely wanted to accept help.

“Let me look after you.” I press a soft kiss to her injured knee before I continue taking off her shoes and socks.

I grab one of her oversized sweaters and shorts for her to slip into then head into our bathroom, running the warm water into the tub. I light some candles and turn off the lights, knowing she prefers the mellow light in times like these, before I hear her making her way on her crutches. It takes a little adjusting but I eventually help her slip into to sudsy water, then leave her to relax as I order some food for dinner.

Not long after I exit the room, I hear a splash and a groan of frustration, and race to see what’s happened. Sam’s body is still deep beneath the surface of the water but there’s a large puddle that slowly disperses at the base of the tub.

“What happened?” I pull my towel off the rack and begin to clean up the mess.

“I tried to get out.” the defeat is clear on Sam’s face, and it helps dampen the flame of anger that bubbled in my chest.

“Sammy-”

“I can’t do that, I know. I just… I don’t want to rely on you for everything.”

“Darl, I know it’s hard, and it will be hard for the next 9 months, but I’m here for you. I want to help you. You’re not alone.” Gently, I run a hand through her drying hair, occasionally massaging her scalp.

I can see the cogs turning in her head as I wait for an answer. The only thing I get is her leaning over and resting her head on my shoulder. It’s not comfortable for either of us but it’s the gesture that matters.

~~~~~

A few days later Sam has to go in for surgery. I have a shift at the hospital, so I drive her in, and take a goofy photo of her before she gets prepped, before I start my rounds. I find it hard, lacking my usual charm and overly-kind demeaner as I visit Carl, a 63 year old Irish man who came to spend a few years in England after retiring from teaching history in Australia, before going home to Ireland. He doesn’t stop talking. I don’t mind though; his stories never disappoint. He came in for a hip surgery but due to some complications he’s had to stay a little longer, and come in for regular stays every few months.

“You’re worried about something.” He likes to study me as I move around.

“Not when I’ve got you, hey Carl?”

“You’re pouring yourself a cup of tea. You don’t like tea. Which is appalling by the way.” I relax my shoulders and take in a deep breath. He knows me too well.

“It’s my fiancé-”

“Sam! Oh how is she!? I love young love.” A warm and reminiscent smile flitters across his face.

“Yes, well, she tore her ACL during training in Morocco. She has surgery today.”

“Bloody hell the poor thing! She’ll be okay love.” Carl pats my arm in reassurance, and I hate to admit I feel much more at peace.

Around 4 hours into my shift, I get called to take over a new patient for one of the other nurses who had to leave after their surgery. I walk down the fluorescently lit hallways, my shoes squeaking against the linoleum. Sam should just about be finished surgery too.

I pushed open the dark wood door but come to a stop when I see who’s snoring in the bed. My fiancé, ever so peaceful and beautiful, yet still looking so tired. There are band-aids over different points of her knee, barely propped up with a roll of cloth.

I check her vitals, not yet giving her more pain meds, and take a seat beside her. I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb back and forth over the dark vein, and admire her. Despite the hospital attire and the ruffled hair that falls out of her hair-tie, she looks so handsome.

I get paged to visit a few other patients before Sam gets the chance to wake up, but by the time I get back, basically the whole Chelsea team is sitting around her room or in the hall.

Jessie’s the one talking Sam when I walk back through the door, vials and food in hand.

“Time for lunch and meds!” I scoot in beside Emma and LJ to have access to her IV after she finishes the food, the girls around us greeting me.

“Chickadee! You’re here.” Sam reaches a hand out for me and puckers her lips but I stand back.

“Nuh uh. Here we’re nurse and patient, not fiancés. Now I need you to eat some food so I can give you your medication.” I can see her desire to fight back on her face, but I know she won’t ignore the orders when I’m actually on the clock.

When she finishes the horrid food, I put clean gloves on and fill the new needle with morphine, then turn back to her. I have to fiddle with the IV for a moment but eventually manage to inject the medicine.

“You might get sleepy; I’ll be back soon to see how you’re doing and adjust the dose if need be, okay? There’s the emergency button if you need me sooner.” I bid her and the team adieu.

~~~~~

I don’t get to take Sam home with me after my shift, instead having to pick her up the next day.

While she’s wheeled out to the car, crutches resting on her lap, I carry her brace and compression bands and whatever else she’s been given. Sam sits across the backseat, making sure to keep her knee elevated, and I make sure to drive as safely as possible.

When we get home, we find ourselves in bed, Sam’s head resting on my chest as I play with her hair, Derry Girls playing on the TV.

“I love you so much, thank you for being my nurse.” A kiss is pressed lightly to my collar bone and I smile.

“I’ll always look after you, my beautiful girl.” She looks up at me with those big chocolate brown eyes and I think I fall in love with her all over again.

I lean down and attach my lips to her’s but as we pull away, she turns serious.

“You owe me a lot of kisses for refusing to kiss me in the hospital.”

“Of course darling.” I simply kiss her again. Anything for my beautiful girl.

~~~~~

“You don’t have to baby me Y/N for fuck sake!” so much for ‘thanks for looking after me’.

“I’m not babying you Sam! I’m making sure you don’t push yourself too far!”

“I can lift things without you hovering over me!”

“You were trying to lift boxes that I can barely lift at full health!” she was really getting on my last nerve.

“I just want you to leave me alone for 5 fucking minutes! God I’m so sick of you!” that makes me pause, pain encapsulates my heart and tears floor my waterline.

My mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. What am I supposed to say to that? So I turn around, picking Helen up on my way, and head to our bedroom. The door slams shut behind me, rattling the walls, the artwork threatening to drop and shatter to the floor. Not dissimilar to my heart.

I hear Sam groan but nothing else echoes down the hall for a while. Until I hear a crash. Without a thought I’m opening the door and rushing across the wood floors to find the girl I’m angry at.

All I find is her sitting on the ground, surrounded by piles of wood. She’s untouched.

“Sam…” it’s more of a sigh of relief than anything else.

“I just- I wanted to make it myself to apologise. And also to prove myself right.”

“You don’t need to make a whole fucking bookshelf for me. You shouldn’t. Your words hurt, but I don’t want you hurt.” I slowly help her get up, although it’s a struggle.

“I’m really really sorry. I didn’t mean it, that I’m sick of you. I could never be sick of you. You’re too kind.” A kiss is pressed to my cheek.

“And pretty.” Another to my opposite cheek.

“And perfect.” She kisses my lips, love flowing between us as I kiss back.

“I don’t deserve you. You’ve done nothing but take care of me and I’ve been all ‘Oscar the Grouch’ on you.” I lead her over to the couch and pull her against me.

“You could turn into Oscar the Grouch and I’d still love and take care of you. I will find you in every lifetime, and love you endlessly.”

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #wsl #the matildas x reader #the matildas #chelsea fcw #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #cfcw

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oct0bra1ns · 6 months

Note

omg yandere zombie😍😍 what if a group of people find reader as their looking for supplies and takes reader to their base??

Synopsis: Nobody can rip you away from him. Pairing: Yandere Zombie x reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others, yanderes , notes: dark fantasy is a good biscuit reblogs and comments are appreciated!

It’s very rare for Yandere zombie! to even let you out of their site, the outside isn’t safe, who knows what kind of dangers are out there. You’re a human, you’ll get hurt and there’s no way they can just stitch you back up like you do for them.

But, there’s not much they can do when you run out of stitches to put their leg back together, all they can do is grunt and hope you take care of yourself.

Yandere zombie! Who spirals down with each passing hour, you never go out for this long, especially when it’s getting so dark.

Yandere zombie! Who can’t wait around any longer and decides to go search for you even if they have to limp around with half of one leg. It doesn’t take long for them to figure out that someone took you, given how the place you usually go to had your bag on the ground.

Yandere zombie! Who wastes no time in finding you, and when they see you surrounded by a bunch of idiots, all they see is red, no one and I mean no one is allowed to go near you unless they allow it.

Yandere zombie! Who rips everyone in the base apart, but makes it extremely painful for the one that took you, they deserve no mercy for laying their hands on you. For the next few weeks, they have an unlimited supply of food.

Yandere zombie! Who refuses to let you go out alone anymore, even if their leg is torn apart, you’re not allowed to go out alone, they’ll climb your back if they have to, hell, they’ll crawl if you want, but you’re never going out alone.

Yandere zombie! Who now demands you keep a ridiculous amount of threads so that you never have to deal with this situation again.

Yandere zombie! Who’ll sob and cling to you if you try to leave without them, they know very well their tears have an effect on you and they’re not above using that to their advantage.

#octo writes #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #octo answers #anon!

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anucalor · 4 months

Text

Mutuals (Onyankopon x Black!Reader)

y/n is a little shy. when she moves back home, her friend mika tries to get her out the house. what better way than to meet mutuals?

warnings: none. shy/nervous reader. fluff.

“Y/N, come on, it’s just a small get-together,” Mikasa mumbles.

Mika and I have been close friends for years – constantly keeping in touch, even after I moved hours away. Due to my parents receiving better opportunities, they decided it would be best to leave what we had known behind. Through the years, we made sure to check on each other. She was there for the significant moments of my life, and I was there for her. Virtually, of course.

That was when I was eleven. I’m twenty-three now.

After I graduated from nursing school, I felt like it was best to return home. I made sure a job and apartment were secure before taking off. Mika was the first person to greet me with open arms. It felt good to be in a familiar place again. It felt good to be home.

Months have passed, and things have slowly begun to fall into place. Unlike Mikasa, I’m content with how my life is now. It’s consistent - a little lonely sometimes, but it’s consistent. Being the observant person she is, she noticed but never pushed the subject. That was until tonight.

“I could go, or I could just stay home while you go,” I quipped with a tight smile.

Mika shook her head at me and responded.

“Look, you don’t have to go,” she looked at me, “I just thought you could meet my other friends. They’re chill, and I can guarantee they’ll love you.” I sighed.

It’s difficult having to meet new people. Having to worry about the possibility of embarrassing myself is not something that I want to do – especially in front of Mika’s friends. From what I’ve heard, they’re all outgoing, quick-witted, and bold. Depending on the situation, I can be a complete nervous wreck. I’d hate for that to happen in front of her friends.

“I dunno.” I tried to downplay how I felt, but she noticed and sighed.

“Okay, but you know that I wouldn’t put you in a situation you weren’t comfortable with.”

Of course, I know that. But even though I thought about going home, something told me that meeting them wouldn’t be too bad.

I sigh, “I know. When are you thinking about leaving?”

“In about an hour,” she responded after checking her phone.

“Would they mind if I joined you?” I asked, not wanting to intrude.

Mika immediately shook her head. “Nah, they already said it was cool.” I chuckled at the fact that she had already asked before responding.

“Alright, Mika. I’ll go.” She gave a small smile and picked up her phone. I presumed to let them know that I would be joining.

I made my way towards the full-body mirror in her bedroom. After feeling like I looked my best, I sat on her bed and nervously scrolled on my phone. I’ve heard plenty of stories about her friends, but I’ve never thought about meeting them – until tonight.

About an hour later, she sent me the address and we made our way to one of their houses – I think she said Connie was his name. We pulled up to the apartment at the same time and exited our cars, making sure to lock them both. I made sure to straighten out my clothes before walking around to meet Mika. I looked up and noticed a small smirk on her face. I tilted my head.

“What?”

“You’re so nervous,” she states obviously.

I smack my lips, “Naw, ‘m not nervous at all.”

Mika just chuckles and starts walking to our destination.

We got to the door and knocked. After a few seconds, a guy opened the door. He had a buzz cut, freckles, and tattoos all on his arms. He was wearing black sweats and a white tee.

‘Cute,’ I thought to myself.

“You gon’ move out the way or what, Constance?” Mika asked.

‘So, this is Connie.’

He just smacks his lips and moves to the side. I follow her inside.

“I just opened the door. Whatchu on?” He scrunched his face a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. Where is everybody?”

“Upstairs,” he said, locking the door behind him. He turns to look at me before a small smirk takes over his features. “You Y/N, right?” he asked softly.

I give a small smile and ‘mhm.’

He walks up to me and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you, mama. I’m Connie.”

I placed my hand in his and softly shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Mika immediately interfered.

“Aht, aht! Connie cut that shit out. Leave her alone.”

I chuckled and removed my hand from his.

“Ass always cockblocking.” He started to lead us upstairs.

“Please, she wouldn’t talk to you no way.” They bickered so much like siblings that I could only laugh.

Soon we made our way to the large room which held about seven other people. They immediately acknowledged Mika, but some perked up at the new face.

“That her?” a guy with emerald eyes and his hair in a man bun asked Mikasa.

Mika hummed, grabbed my hand, and led us to a spot to sit while introducing me to everyone and them to me.

Sasha, Armin, Eren, Ymir, Historia, Jean, Connie...

“...and that’s Onyankopon.”

“You can call me Ony.”

We made eye contact, and I could feel my heart flutter. He was dark-skinned with tattoos. He had studs and a chain on with grey sweats and a black shirt. He’s gorgeous, but he looks like the type to play around... I looked away and smiled at everyone, feeling a little more nervous than when I walked in.

And just like Mika said, everyone was chill. They all caught onto the fact that I’m pretty shy, but it was easy to make conversation with almost everyone.

Ony had been pretty caught up in either playing the game with Eren, Connie, and Jean or on the phone. I, of course, wasn’t gonna say anything. Maybe he’s just a quiet guy.

But what I didn’t notice was the way Ony looked at me when I entered the room – the way he bit his lip for a moment before looking away. I didn't notice the way he studied my features when I had sat down beside Mika, or the way he smirked and went back to the game after we made eye contact.

I didn’t notice those things, but oh, some people did...

Armin: You good Ony?

Connie looked down at his phone and chuckled.

Con: his ass feelin' Y/N he good

Ony glanced at his phone and furrowed his brows before typing.

Ony: Aye chill out

Jean: Is he wrong tho?

Eren: Jean stfu and take this L

Ony: Bruh thank you

Eren: I didn’t say he was wrong. Speak up

Ony rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the game, but the sound of a pretty laugh caused him to briefly peer over at me. Connie chuckled.

“Damn. You down bad already,” he teased. Ony just shook his head, focusing back on the game.

After some time, Mika, Ymir, and I stood up.

“’m finna get a drink. Y’all want some?” Ymir questioned while walking towards the door. Mika and I followed her but turned around to see if anyone wanted anything. Ony sat his controller down and stood up.

“Ima come.”

It took me a second to realize how tall he was– a little over 6’2” and built. I caught myself, trying not to let my eyes linger, and walked out of the room. I could feel his presence close behind me and his amazing scent was beginning to take over my senses. ‘Ain’t no way I’m this down bad,’ is all I could think to myself.

Once we made our way to the kitchen, I decided to chill by the bar stools while the others raided Connie’s pantry.

“You want anything, mama?” I looked at Ony and realized that he was asking me.

“Umm, just water is okay,” I responded with a small smile.

He turned around to grab a water bottle for me and placed it in front of me. Simple act, right? Cool.

After grabbing all they wanted, Mika and Ymir started to head back upstairs. I started to walk behind them, but I felt a small tug on my arm. All three of us turned around.

“We’ll be up there ina minute.”

I turned back to look at them, but they simply smirked.

“Okay, Onya,” Ymir quipped before going upstairs. Ony smirked and shook his head.

“You good?” Mika asked softly. I nodded, and she followed behind Ymir.

Once they were far enough away, I turned towards Ony and tilted my head, confused as to what he wanted.

“Just wanted to talk to you, pretty girl,” he started. I narrow my eyes at him slightly and hum.

He slid his hand from my arm to my hand and led me to the living room. Once we sat down, Ony looked at me and spoke.

“So, how long have you known Mika?” he started.

I gave a content smile. “We’ve been friends for years. A little over ten, I think.”

He hummed and turned his attention towards the blank tv in front of us.

“And how long have you guys been friends?” I asked while crossing my legs on the couch. He turned back to me before starting.

“We met in high school. I had just moved and here, and Connie’s big-headed ass kinda forced me to chill wit’ everyone.”

I smile, “Yeah?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “Mhm.”

I looked down trying to contain a smile before continuing the conversation.

A few minutes were just spent with us trying to get to know each other – from questions about our past to what it’s like to have a friend group like theirs. Every now and then, Ony would slide in little flirtatious comments, but I was oblivious to them all that he just narrowed his eyes slightly upon realization. Soon after, I asked, “So, be forreal. Why’d you wanna talk to me?”

Ony chuckled and began manspreading slightly.

“I mean, shit. You couldn’t tell?” A confused look overtook my features, and I shook my head no. He just looked at me before saying, “I just wanted to see if you was fuckin wit someone.”

I tilted my head. “If I was talking to someone?” He smiled at that and nodded, “Why?”

‘Cute,’ he thought to himself before responding. “Because I think you’re beautiful, and I’m tryina see whatchu on.”

I was slightly caught off-guard by how blunt he was but tried not to show it.

“So, I’m taking this as you don’t have a girl?” I questioned. His gaze went from playful to slightly serious.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” I had to look away for a moment, not being used to this undivided attention he was giving me. Ony furrowed his brows before taking his tattooed hand and gently grabbing my jaw to bring my attention back to him. “Uh-uh, mama. Look at me.”

I looked at him and bit my lip - a nervous habit. He glanced at my lips before licking his own, removing his hand, and smirking. “Let me take you on a date.”

Before I could respond, I heard some feet coming down the stairs and looked in that direction. It was Mika, Sasha, and Connie. I smiled towards them, trying to make it seem like I’m not a nervous wreck around this man. Sasha smiled, but Connie and Mika knew what type of time Ony was on.

“You almost ready to head out, N/N?” Mika questioned. I noticed that she had my purse in her hands, just in case.

“Yeah, gimme just a minute.” She just nodded and walked towards the kitchen with the two following her.

I turned my attention back to Ony to see that he had already been watching me with soft eyes.

“So, whatchu think, pretty girl? You gon’ let me take you out?”

I thought it over for a moment before smiling. “Yeah, Ony. You can.”

He licked his bottom lip, trying to contain a smile. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

After we exchanged numbers, we stood up from the couch. He then wrapped his arms around my waist, and I wrapped mine around his neck. This was a feeling I could get used to.

“Ima text you soon, mama. Okay?” he mumbled in my ear.

“I gotchu,” I tried to contain my smile as we pulled away.

We both walked to the kitchen where Sasha and Connie were bickering and Mika was just watching, shaking her head. She was the first to see us come in and started to stand up.

“You ready?”

I nodded and grabbed my purse from her before turning to the remaining three.

“It was nice meeting yall,” I expressed softly with a smile.

“You, too, pretty,” Sasha came up to hug me while whispering, “Make sure you come back, yeah?”

I hugged her back. “Just let me know when, and I gotchu.”

Once we made our way outside, Mika immediately asked me what was up with Ony.

“Well, you should know that Ony doesn’t really fuck around like that,” she stated wholeheartedly.

I stopped walking and looked at her. “You forreal? Because ion wanna get involved with him and get screwed over.”

Mika stopped and looked at me with an intense gaze. “The reason I stopped Connie earlier was because I know how he is. Onya won’t do that. Damn near against his character,” she tried to make light of the situation, “Trust when I say, you’re good.”

I smiled, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Mika saw the effect her words had on me and hugged me. “Just take it slow. He’ll show you wussup,” was her advice.

“Say less.”

We separated from one another and finally made our way towards our cars. Once I got in and shut my door, I started my car and made my way home. After walking inside, I locked the door and went straight to the shower. I stayed in a little longer than intended, thinking about tonight’s events – from meeting new people to getting asked on a date. It all felt fast. Maybe I just needed to sleep.

I shut off the water and began getting ready for bed. It was almost two in the morning before I laid down and heard a small ‘ping!’ from my phone. I looked over to see that it was Ony who texted.

Ony: Any plans this Friday, pretty?

I smile before typing, feeling a little hopeful. I guess we’ll just have to wait till then.

________

ahh. i hope it wasn't too bad. i haven't written anything ina HOT minute. this is a new platform for me. so hopefully it'll be cool. i hope yall enjoy <3 please forgive the mistakes!

#attack on titan #aot #aotxreader #aot x reader #aotxblack!reader #aot x black reader #aot x poc!reader #black girl reader #fanfic #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #fluff #aot fluff #poc #black!reader #black!y/n #GodLovesYou #black!fem!reader

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year

Text

But It's Not You

A/N: double update bebe! 💚

SUMMARY: After almost a year into One Direction's hiatus, Harry craves being in the studio again to make some music. After inviting his best friend and former band member, YN, onto his team, they spend the next two months in Jamaica as they make an album, uncover hidden feelings, and explore uncharted territories. (3.3k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, friends to lovers

SINCE 2010 masterlist // Jamaica series // Previous song here! ✈

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

YN’s jaw goes slack in a yawn as she knuckles over her eyes. Her bare feet pat softly against the hardwood floor of the hallway and she has to keep in mind to be quiet on some level as she passes the rooms where the rest of the production crew sleeps. The moonlight that peaks through the multitude of windows throughout the house act as her guide.

It’s been a few days since the team has arrived in Jamaica and so far, it’s been both a relaxing and exciting experience for everyone. With a day full of writing and continuing to get more and more hands-on experience producing, the team was able to get another song down and didn’t go to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Unable to fall asleep herself, however, she finds herself out of bed in search of a late-night snack. She stretches her arms above her head before letting them fall down to her sides.

When she faces the kitchen, her feet come to a stop when she sees a semi-bright light that shines over a small section of the room. Harry stands in front of the open refrigerator, his forearm rests on top of the door while his body bends over to look inside. His torso is bare and the muscles on his back push and pull as he goes to grab something. His sleep shorts hang low on his hips and when he looks over his shoulder at her, his hand to his mouth as he bites down on something.

Is that a strawberry?

Harry takes in the sight of her: an oversized band t-shirt she’s had since their time in the band that has holes scattered around the fabric and slipping off her shoulder every now and then. Her pj shorts are barely visible from underneath the huge shirt and her hair is a bit tousled from her attempt to fall asleep. He smiles at her as he finishes what’s in his mouth, “Good morning, darling.”

Ignoring how nice and raspy his voice sounds, she smiles back at him and shuffles her feet over to him to lean her forehead in the middle of his chest. When she feels his arms around her shoulders, letting out a hum at the warmth he gives off, she thinks back to the time when she couldn’t stand physical affection. She felt claustrophobic if someone were to wrap themselves around her; even with her ex, it still felt off to be held or hold his hand. She knew she was in trouble when she found herself naturally gravitating towards Harry’s body for a cuddle or missed the warmth of his hand on her back rather than anybody else’s.

“Morning,” She says as she snuggles deeper into his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

She shakes her head side to side, still pressed to him, “You?”

He hums out a no before he says, “Want a strawberry?”

She lifts her head so her chin rests in the middle of his chest. She silently parts her lips and he places the half-eaten strawberry to her mouth. The tips of Harry’s finger hold onto the green leaves of the fruit as she takes a bite. He pulls it away and finishes off the rest of the strawberry before throwing the end leaves into the sink beside them.

Knowing that there wasn’t a chance of going back to sleep any time soon, the two friends situate themselves on the kitchen floor, their backs to the kitchen island with their legs splayed out in front of them and the refrigerator door open. As they chat, they’ll both occasionally grab at the cut pieces of fruit in the bowl between them.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

Harry discreetly cringes to himself at his words. As comfortable as he is to talk about literally anything with her, he has to catch himself before he says anything stupid—meaning, not accidentally telling her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

“Yeah? All good things, I hope.”

“Oh no, just the bad stuff,” He says sarcastically.

“Shit, I knew it.” Harry chuckles when she playfully throws a grape at his chest with a smile.

“No, I could never. There’s nothing horrible about you, lovie.” Despite his better judgment, he lets the words of affection slip from his mouth. “You’re perfect.”

YN scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “Don't say that,” she says around a mouthful of a slice of orange.

“But it’s true. You’re beautiful, YN.”

“That’s a bit hard to believe,” Before he can swallow the grape and protest, she beats him to it. “Come on, H. M’nothing like the girls you’ve been attracted to in the past. With their perfectly blue eyes and scarlet red lips,” YN says with a dramatic, playful flutter of her eyes before twisting at a cherry stem between her fingers.

Harry furrows his brows as he processes her words, “Okay but, was that ever really me?”

“What do yeh mean?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

And oh how he wishes he could explain himself to her. Throughout their time in the band, it’s been a known fact that their management teams have been trying to force a certain persona on each of the band members. For Harry, he was labeled as a womanizer: a bad boy who's never done anything bad. Time and time again, their teams had set him up with fake blonde models who were only into him for his name, looks and nothing more. And after each time, he would find himself going back to her.

He’ll take her natural hair color and texture over the girls who fry their hair to achieve a fake-blonde look. He’ll take her bare face over any of the women with too much contour and red lipstick any day. He’ll take her natural plushy hips and chest without it having been done through the work of a doctor. He’d rather be with YN. He meant what he said, she’s perfect. Even her imperfections are perfect.

How he wishes he can tell her all of this but his tongue trips over itself. How can he even collectively get his words together when she’s patiently waiting for him to speak with her soft smile and her eyes that sparkle from the refrigerator’s white fluorescent light.

Harry smiles down at his lap, “Y’know, my mum thinks we’re dating.”

He’s changing the subject. She decides not to call him out on it and just smirks at his statement.

“M’not surprised.” When he gives her an amused look, she continues with a lazy shrug of her shoulder. “Me mum's the same way.”

It’s no secret that their mums have been secretly-not-so-secretly rooting for them to get together the second they saw the kind of chemistry their kids began to show during their time in the X-Factor. The two women don’t push their wishes on them though, merely watching from the sidelines waiting for them to realize it for themselves.

A giggle tumbles past YN’s lips as it easily puts a dimpled smile on his face. “Do you remember that one time when we were on our, what? Third tour and we did that waltz dance thing on the B-Stage?”

Of course he remembers. The band was doing the segment of the show where they answered fan-sent questions. Most of them were dares and this one in particular asked the band to show off their ballroom skills. When none of the other boys wanted to be her dance partner, Harry honorably stepped up with an out-reach of his hand.

“The time when you clumsily fell on me and we landed on the floor?”

“No, no. You fell on me,” YN points out with emphasis, her laughter like music to his ears.

“Same thing.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Where were you going with this again?” He asks with a humored look, plopping a blueberry past his lips.

“Our mums were at that show.” Harry tucks his chin down to his chest as his shoulders shake with a chuckle as he knows exactly where she’s going with this. “And they wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards in the green room, remember? Penny just kept going on and on about how that was gonna be us dancing at our wedding or some shit.”

“My mum was already telling me about taking some dance lessons so I wouldn’t trip up like we did on stage.”

YN squeezes her eyes shut, one hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter while the other one grips onto Harry’s wrist. The creases beside his eyes appear as his own chuckles rumble from his chest. After they’ve calmed down, Harry lets out a happy sigh at the memory.

“Yeah...Richard had a field day with that one.”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he instantly regrets it by the sad look that comes over YN. Her once giggling shoulders slow down to a slump, her cheeky smile fades into a somber one and her bright eyes dim down to her lap.

Bringing up their old management team has become a sensitive topic for YN. These people who took her freedom away, tried silencing her voice just because she was a woman, and forced a different persona on her for the sake of fame sit in the darkest parts of her mind.

Even for something as silly as the two of them dancing together on stage had their management representative give them a good scolding. Richard went on a rampage, yelling at YN for her improper behavior, for putting her hands on Harry in that way. He scolded her for being so clumsy and that she made them fall on purpose just to get physically close with her band mate.

It broke Harry’s heart to see YN keep her mouth shut, knowing that she would bite back if she could. He saw the way she had her hands clasped together in front of her, occasionally flinching back at Dick’s spitting words.

And when Harry tried sticking up for her, he was told off for even offering himself to YN, that he should have known better. That supposed little “stunt” that they pulled had cost their solos to be removed from the new song they were working on for the next album.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up—”

“Don't be.” She says sincerely, licking her lips and keeping her gaze away from her best friend.

Call it a curse or a superpower, but he sees the way her mind begins to race. She’s been good at hiding it, but he can read her like an open book.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He tells her softly.

Knowing she can’t hide from him, she lets out a deep sigh, “I just felt so trapped sometimes, you know? They’ve just always dictated our lives in everything. What we wear, what we say,” Who we can be with. “And for what? More money in there’s fookin’ pockets? You know, there were just times in my life where I didn’t even feel...alive.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Some times more than usual,” She surprises herself as she answers his question truthfully. She didn’t expect to be talking about this tonight or ever with anyone, really. But she’s glad it’s Harry.

“One day I’ll tell you everything,” She thinks to herself.

“But do you know when are the times that I don’t feel that way?”

“When?”

“When I’m with you.”

“Shut up,” He looks away from her with a bashful smile on his face. Even from the small light coming through the kitchen, she can still see the pink coming onto his cheeks.

“It’s true. It sounds cheesy as hell but it’s like I feel the weight of the world around me being lifted or something. It’s like I can finally breathe. Like, I remember that one day on the yacht last year. We were sitting on the front of the boat and we didn’t really talk or anything but we were just...I don’t know. It’s kinda stupid. I think you were asleep or something so I don’t think you remember—”

“You wore that green bathing suit and the sun was just setting so the sky was kind of orange,” When YN turns her head to look at Harry, he’s already staring back. “I remember looking at you then. You were sitting up and had your eyes closed. You were crying.” She doesn't flinch when he brings his hand to her cheek and wipes away her tears with his thumb. YN didn’t even realize she was crying until now. “But when you opened your eyes, you took a deep breath and you... you just looked so in-the-moment. You looked free, YN.”

She closes her eyes and lets the tears silently stream down her face. Harry’s forehead touches hers.

“This was all I used to need,” She whispers in the space between them. Her words pluck a chord in his heart. He’s felt the same feeling more and more lately. He knows that they’re both incredibly grateful for the success they’ve had with their careers so far. They were able to start so young, provide for their family, and do what they love to do every single night for crowds of devoted fans.

But there’s a longing for the silence.

She can be in a room full of fans and press and their team, but she can still feel like the loneliest person in the world. Having each other to lean on, having someone to go to when the darkest parts of themselves want to consume them is more than all the happiness that this measly world can provide.

“I know. I feel it, too.” Harry whispers in the small space between them, reaching up to thumb away at a tear on the supple skin of her cheek. “I was just thinking about how much we haven’t spoken to each other in a while before this.”

“It had only been a few weeks,” YN pulls back a bit and smiles. She wipes her eyes with the front of her worn-out shirt. “And we’ve been texting during that time anyways.”

“Still. S’not enough.”

She softly laughs at Harry’s teasing. He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest. As much as the band’s hiatus was needed, there’s no denying the fact that the separation was hard—especially for these two. How can one normally carry on through life when the person you see, talk to, and laugh with everyday goes away?

They sit in comfortable silence for a little bit longer, staying embraced by one another before YN speaks up.

“I love you, Harry.” Her words make his body tense up and he tries not to let it show too much. She lifts her head from his shoulder and one little dip of his head can connect their lips. His eyes search hers, trying to find if she meant her words in the same way he does. He sees her eyes flicker down to his lips before she takes a deep breath. “No one knows me like you do. I feel safe with you. I...I feel alive with you.”

When he nods his head in agreement, his nose brushes alongside hers, “I feel everything with you.”

“I meant what I said,” She can get lost in his green eyes, looking at her with that same feeling she feels in the pit of her stomach. The same feeling she first felt as a teenager whenever he was around her. The feeling she would get despite being engaged to someone else. She meant those three words, but now that they’re not under the watchful eye of their old management team, the feeling terrifies her even more. “You’re my best friend, Harry.”

And there it is.

During their time in the band, there was no question that the two were able to get on another level of closeness that they knew each other like the back of their hands. Reading each other from across the room became second nature. Maybe the separation has made Harry lose his touch. Maybe those three words don’t share the same meaning they do for him.

“And you mine,” He reciprocates truthfully.

Without another word, YN shuffles herself to lay her head down on his lap. He brushes his fingers over her scalp, gently pushing her hair behind her ear. Once he sees that her eyes are closed and hears her breathing has evened out, he whispers her words back to her unknowing they hold her true meaning behind them.

“I love you, YN.”

...

Anytime you’re doing anything different, it’s quite scary. I didn’t know what I wanted it to sound like, I didn’t know what I wanted it to look like,” Harry explains the initial feelings he had when making his album. “But it was nice to have someone there who you’re familiar with and, and sort of turn to them when you feel a bit uneasy.”

The next morning, YN plops down on the chair next to Harry at the dining table where he finds him scribbling away in his brown leather journal, “Hey.”

“Hi,” he answers, his eyes still glued to the pen on the paper.

“Anything good?” YN nods to his notebook.

“Maybe, actually.” He shifts his body to face her. “It kind of just wrote itself to be honest.”

A soft smile tugs itself on her lips as she leans her elbow on the table to rest her temple on her fist, “The best ones always do.”

“Kind of wanted to let the work do the talking a little bit. I mean, definitely part of my ego wanted to see if I could write something that people liked without people knowing everything about me.”

Harry slides over the journal for her to read, “What we spoke about last night really stuck with me.”

That infamous crease in her brows appears on her face as she reads his scribbled handwriting and Harry wants nothing more than to smooth over the skin with his thumb or a gentle press of his lips.

We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.

“I didn’t mean to overstep by writing something personal about you. It was just an idea and a melody for it was stuck in my head all morning.”

“No, don't apologize. This sounds good. Really good, actually. You took what I feel kind of pathetic about and made it sound poetic. It’s beautifully written, Harry.” She lets out a laugh and slides Harry back his journal. “M’kind of jealous that I didn’t write something for myself like this.”

“Well, it can be our song then,” Harry rubs his index finger under his nose, a nervous habit that he hopes will go unnoticed by her; it doesn’t. “I mean, I still need to work out the guitar bits and stuff.”

Instead of calling him out and teasing him just to see the pink tint hit his cheeks, she reaches over the table and lifts the acoustic guitar onto her lap, “That can be arranged.”

Not long after, the team is scattered around the room as they watch the two former band members create music together.

We're not who we used to be

We don't see what we used to see

Their voices blend together beautifully, naturally falling into a harmony. YN’s fingers press on the wired strings as she strums with her other hand.

Mitch watches from his seat on the opposite side of the table, his eyes flickering back and forth between the pair. Harry wasn’t kidding when he said that YN is a skilled guitarist; she’s making beautiful melodies with it without even trying.

More importantly, he sees the way they look at each other. As YN adlibs a vocalized melody, a smile etches on her face as Harry looks at her. His dimples dig into his cheeks and the tiniest hint of pink paints the apples of his cheeks.

Mitch may not know a lot about these two, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see their shared chemistry.

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wasjustred · 1 year

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Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you.

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings.

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen.

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you.

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew.

She’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore.

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down.

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck.

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅#don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well!#i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too!#my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now – relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’#and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇#n e ways hope you all enjoy :)#lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

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