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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd #bamf danny phantom #alley drunk! danny au #danny: i'm grieving #jason: wanna bet?#that's right jason's this universe's jazz fenton #this universe's danny fenton died and that's why danny can exist here without causing issues #danny: i have adopted a random child #danny: this child is jazz wtf

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wandasgf · 7 months

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THERE'S JUST ONE THING I WANT (your blood all over me)

pairings: final girl!reader + slashers!wandanat, pre-established bucky + reader

summary: movie night at your boyfriend bucky's on friday the 13th, what could go wrong?

warnings: depictions of violence and murder, cult dynamics (cult leader wanda), character death (not reader), cheating, manipulation, patriarchal ideals, misogyny, power dynamics, pet names, mommy kink, dom!natasha, sub!reader, dom!wanda, fingering, groping

wc: 5.7k~

A/N: sorry bucky...

Friday the 13th, a universal day of bad luck and bad omens. You were never one to be overly superstitious, you did have a black cat, Liho, after all, but something about this just felt like a bad idea. Bucky had proposed the idea of having a movie night of sorts to celebrate the unofficial holiday, wanting to invite some friends over and watch a few horror movies. He explicitly wanted to ‘watch Parker piss his pants over a little movie,’ which you rolled your eyes at.

“I don't know if this is a good idea, Buck…” You sigh, looking up at the taller man through your lashes, your arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Who doesn't love a good horror movie?” He laughs, though he knows you don't, “besides, I'll keep you safe. Don't worry.” He pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You know I don't like those kinds of movies,” you huff, “and your friends are always… weird.” You mumble, burying your face in his chest. He sighs above you, starting to run his fingers through your hair, “I know, I know, but it'll just be one movie. And it's just the guys! They're harmless, come on, you know that!” His tone is lighthearted, but he tugs a little on your hair at the last part. “You can invite some of your friends,” he offers, “who've you been hanging out with lately? Wanda? Natasha? Carol?” and then he quickly changes his mind, he doesn't like her attitude towards either of you, “Ugh, no, don't invite Carol… How about that Kate girl? You can invite the redheads and Kate?”

“...okay, but promise you won't pick one that's too scary?”

“Promise, scaredy cat.”

Friday comes quickly and you're currently preparing for Bucky’s friends to come over, making sure there's cold beer in the fridge and snacks for them to eat. Your boyfriend was setting up the television apparently, telling you that you were always better in the kitchen than he was and then disappearing into the living room. Some of your friends were coming too, which you were grateful for. You had debated inviting Carol even though Bucky said not to, but decided against it. Wanda and Kate would be here soon, but Natasha said she had something she needed to do with Yelena tonight and wouldn’t be able to make it.

You play with the ring around your finger before you start to put bowls and dishes on the island’s countertop in front of you, humming softly to yourself as you make sure it looks presentable. You were never one to like an ugly spread. Bucky chooses this time to come into the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, “see? Told you, you’re so much better in the kitchen than I am.”

“You’re just saying that because I cut up some plums for you.”

“You got me.” He chuckles, reaching forward to grab a slice of the fruit, “the boys should be here soon, you should get changed.” He pats your bare thigh, the shorts you’re wearing are decidedly too short for him, and then pulls away from you and starts to walk away.

“You didn’t seem to mind my outfit earlier!” You call out after him teasingly, and he just turns around to give you a pointed look, opening his mouth to speak before promptly closing it when he hears a car pull into the driveway. “That must be Steve. Go get changed.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It did turn out to be Steve, and you greet him after you’ve come back downstairs. This time dressed in a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. Bucky’s friends arrive in quick succession after that: Steve, Sam, Tony, Peter (Quill, not Parker. Parker couldn’t make it), and even Rhodey showed up which was apparently something of a miracle. Wanda’s friend Vision was away for work, otherwise you might have asked her to bring him too. You sip on a drink in the kitchen with Wanda while you wait for Kate, it was far too loud in the living room with all the boys. Especially because Tony had started drinking. You don’t envy Pepper, the man could be loud while sober, so this was almost unbearable. You remind yourself that they’re Bucky’s friends and it’s just one evening, he’ll make it up to you tomorrow.

“You know, you could have just told him we were going out and you wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this,” Wanda hums, lifting her glass up to her lips and taking a sip of wine, “I know how much you hate these kinds of movies.”

“I know, but he seemed excited about it, and you know him… I don’t want to be down on something he’s actually excited about.” You lean against the counter, holding your glass in both hands against your chest. “He said he’d pick a movie that wasn’t too scary, but we can probably get away with just being in here for the whole night. It’s not like they’ll really notice.”

“You don’t think Bucky will notice if you’re not within two feet of him at all times? You must have forgotten who you’re talking about.” Wanda laughs humorlessly, a tight smile on her lips. None of your friends were particularly… fond of your boyfriend. It’s not that they hated him, he could be a nice guy, it’s just that sometimes the way he treated you was more like the way you’d treat a child or a trophy than a girlfriend.

Just then Bucky’s voice interrupts the two of you with a ‘babe!’ and you excuse yourself from the kitchen. You’re semi-grateful for it, not wanting to get into this Wanda right now, but you wanted to avoid the guys for longer than you were able to.

It turns out he had just wanted another beer, which you brought him and he accepted with a kiss to your cheek. You’re certain that Peter was going to ask for one too until he and Bucky had some sort of silent conversation, so you slipped out of the room to avoid whatever the outcome might have been. Things between the two of them could get tense.

Wanda gives you a look when you re-enter the kitchen and you shrug, “he was having some sort of debate with Steve, he didn’t want to lose his train of thought.”

“Uh huh…” The strawberry blonde opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s cut off when she hears a sharp, feminine scream pierce her ears. A scream that she knows doesn’t belong to the horror movie everyone is supposed to be watching tonight. She gives you an indecipherable look, and you look back at her with wide eyes, frightened. “Was that… the movie? Buck didn’t say he was starting it yet…”

She doesn’t answer you, waiting to see if maybe she can hear the background noise of a movie coming from the living room, maybe they decided on a different movie. But when she doesn’t hear anything besides confused chatter she can’t quite decipher she shakes her head, “I don’t think so.”

You’re soon joined by Bucky and the rest of the guys in the kitchen when he rushes in to make sure the scream he heard wasn’t, in fact, his girlfriend. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?” He holds you at arm’s length to inspect you, making sure you weren’t hurt. You could be a little clumsy, and he knows you’ve been drinking some wine, so he thought maybe you had decided to cut up some fruit and dropped the knife, accidentally cutting yourself. But after a quick once over, he realizes that you’re fine.

“I-I don’t know. Wanda and I were just talking in here and then we heard a scream. I thought maybe you started the movie without us. Do you think someone’s hurt somewhere? Oh God, this is exactly how those horror movies you like so much start out. I told you doing something like this today was a bad idea, Buck–”

The back door opens and you barely hear it, still rambling until Bucky puts his hand over your mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, and you’re about to move his hand to tell him off, who cares that his friends are here, until you hear a set of footsteps and realize that everyone is standing still and tense. Bucky’s house had a bit of an odd layout. Whereas other houses kitchen’s were in the back of the house, his was near the front.

Your boyfriend was always hyper vigilant, even when there was no reason to be, but when he brings his finger up to his lips to signal you to be quiet, you think that maybe there is a reason this time. Even Tony seems to have shut up, looking slightly concerned. Maybe all your talk about bad omens was getting to everyone.

There’s a tension in the air and everything is silent for a moment until the footsteps continue, getting closer and closer…

Your breath gets caught in your throat when a masked figure steps through the doorway. They have a long, sharp, knife-like blade in one hand, the front of their shirt and mask splattered with blood. In the other hand, you see a coat you recognize, one you know belongs to Kate, splattered and stained with blood. Wordlessly, they hold it up and tilt their head, their green eyes sparkling at the recognition and horror on your face. A scream rips through your throat before you can stop it.

Bucky turns and he’s quick to push you behind him as soon as you scream while everyone else is frozen in place, eyes wide with shock. “Very funny guys, love that you hired an actor to scare the shit out of my girlfriend, very clever. When I said I wanted to scare her, I meant with the movie. So she would be extra clingy tonight, so we could– not the point. This isn’t cool.” His tone hardens with the last three words, feeling the way you’re shaking slightly behind him from fear.

“Buck, we didn’t… this isn’t us.” Sam speaks up and the masked stranger decides that this is enough talking for now before they surge towards Peter, who’s drunk enough to move just a bit too slowly. Their knife plunges into his stomach and he lets out a loud yell, drink dropping from his hand and glass shattering against the floor, doubling over when the knife is taken out and then plunged into his flesh again and again and again.

The action is enough to snap everyone out of their frozen states and send everyone running in a panic. You vaguely hear a ‘holy fuck!’ before Bucky grabs your hand and drags you out of the room, planning to circle around the killer and then exit the house. He lives at the end of a relatively secluded street, but he has his car and if he can get to it, he knows he could get the both of you away from danger quite quickly. He’d be sorry about his friends, but he can always make new ones.

“B-Buck, wait! We can’t just leave Wanda, what if she’s next? Please, we can't just leave. That was Kate’s coat, they got Kate. We can’t leave everyone.”

“We might get killed and you're worried about that redheaded b– fine, we can make sure Wanda’s okay.” He concedes when he sees your face, pulling you into the bathroom with him and shutting the door. He takes a breath and then locks it. If all else fails, the two of you can stay in here until morning, but right now he apparently needs a new plan.

He pats his pockets to try and find his phone, if nothing at all he needs to call the police. He groans when he realizes he left it on the couch. “Fuck.”

At some point you and Bucky get separated, it's hard to stay together in chaos like this. Maybe going back for Wanda was a bad idea, but you just couldn't leave her to fend for herself, especially after what you can only assume happened to Kate. And seeing what happened to Peter, you couldn’t let that happen to her. Stupid, maybe, but she was one of your closest friends.

You don't know how long it's been until you find yourself in a group again. Except now you're missing Peter, Tony, Steve and Rhodey. By the look on Bucky’s face, you know they all must have suffered the same fate as Peter.

“What do we do, man? We could try to leave, but that only got Steve killed. Did anyone call the cops? I can't find my phone.” Sam paces the room.

Steve’s body lays limp and slightly cold on the stone path leading from Bucky’s porch to the driveway. He didn’t get very far.

“I did.” Wanda speaks up from the doorway, keeping watch in the one on the left and scanning the whole room, paying particular attention to the doorway across from her. “I hope they'll be here soon. They might have already been here if James didn't live so far from town.”

“Oh, are you blaming this on me? Are you saying this is my fault?” Bucky shoots a glare towards Wanda. The tension between the two of them was always thick, but right now you think even a knife wouldn’t be able to cut through it.

“If the shoe fits.”

“Listen here, you–”

“Watch your tone.” Wanda's accent slips out and your eyes flit over towards her.

“Please don't fight, it won't make things better.” Your voice is quiet, scared, as you speak. You stand close to Bucky, arms wrapped around your torso. You're shaking slightly, the image of both Peter and Steve making you nauseous. You hadn’t expected to see him when you walked out the front door, and the image was enough to have you running back into the house.

Bucky grunts in response and Wanda doesn't say anything, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and looking towards the other entrance of the room you were all in again.

Perhaps she should have been paying more attention to what's behind her, though, because the masked stranger is suddenly right there. Your eyes widen and you don't have time to warn her before she shrieks as they force her hands behind her back and press a knife against her throat. It's a bit of a struggle, but the masked assailant is clearly strong as they manhandle Wanda into the room.

“Wanda!”

“Fuck!”

“Man, fuck this!”

You, Bucky, and Sam all stand alarmed near the center of the room, looking with widened eyes at the scene in front of you. A beat of silence passes, all that can be heard is labored breathing. And then the knife falls from her throat and Wanda starts to laugh, bent over from the force of it. “Oh, you should have seen your faces!” She laughs like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to her before she stops abruptly and stands up, a gun suddenly in her hand, pointed straight towards you. “Come here.” Her accent is back now, the fake American one dropped.

“W-Wanda, I don’t… what’s going on?” You sniffle, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

“W-Wanda,” she mocks, faux pout on her lips, “Come here.”

“Don’t listen to her. Stay right behind me.” Bucky steps in front of you, shielding you with his body.

“What a gentleman.” Wanda sneers, gun steadily pointed at Bucky’s chest now.

“Wanda, sweetheart, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Natasha speaks up, taking the now bloody hockey mask off and revealing herself. It had been so hard for her to keep her comments to herself and remain a mystery this whole time. Usually it wouldn’t be, but today was just so exciting. And it was personal.

Oh, she had been the one to give Wanda the handgun.

“Now what the fuck?” Sam makes the mistake of making himself known again and Wanda rolls her eyes, turning and aiming the gun at him instead. “Oh, shut up.” She pulls the trigger and a bullet goes straight through the man’s skull, blood splattering onto the floor and the wall behind him. He drops to the floor with a thud.

“Jesus Christ! You’re both fucking insane!” Bucky takes a glance towards Sam’s body on the floor, feeling bile rise up in his throat.

“Buck, I-I’m scared.” You whimper, and he pulls your body against his, hoping to bring you some comfort by running his fingers through your hair. This is not something he ever thought before, but maybe he should have listened to you when you said this was a bad idea.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her head jerking involuntarily at the sight, like she’d just seen something horrible. “I won’t ask again. Come. Here.” The gun is pointed at you again and her hand shakes slightly. Her eyes flash and you look up at Bucky, afraid she might actually shoot you. “Buck, I-I maybe I should go over. T-To calm her down… I don’t want her to hurt you.”

You sniffle again and he takes five seconds before giving a small nod. “It’ll be okay, baby. They won’t get away with this, I promise, I won’t let them.” He says in a way that he hopes is comforting to you. You hesitate before pulling away from him and slowly walking over to Wanda.

“Hi, Wands,” you smile up at her sweetly, “did I do good?”

“You would have done better if you didn’t let him put his hands on you like that,” she spits. You pout up at her and she softens slightly, leaning down to kiss you. She knows you were only playing a role, but that didn’t make it better, “you did great, baby.”

“What the fuck is going on!”

You spin around, eyes wild, no longer hiding anything now that the charade has been dropped, angry that your moments with Wanda are still being interrupted. “Will you shut the fuck up for five fucking seconds?! We are trying to have a conversation here.”

Bucky, poor guy, looks the most shocked you’ve ever seen him. He never would have seen this coming, he never could have. This wasn’t like you, you were sweet and quiet and would never speak to him like that. You couldn’t possibly have anything to do with this, not voluntarily. The way you were acting wasn’t making any sense.

“Baby… Come on, this isn’t like you. Whatever they said to you, whatever they did to you, you can tell me. I can help, I’ll get you out of this, you don’t have to worry.” He chooses almost the exact wrong thing to say, and you grab the gun from Wanda, pointing it towards him. Wanda and Natasha look toward each other, this wasn’t part of the plan. Not exactly, anyway.

"Oh, you can help me?! You'll help me!" You think of these past couple of months, years really, that you’ve spent with Bucky, stuck with Bucky. You did it to yourself upon the request of Natasha, but that doesn’t make it any better. You're practically hysterical at this point, waving the gun in your hand around with your finger on the trigger, "because you're a big strong military man, you can help me! Oh, and I bet you’ll save me too!" You're laughing now, shaking as adrenaline pumps through your veins. "That's what I am to you, isn't it? Proof of your ability as a man to save a woman? Your little trophy to prove that you're a good guy." You point the gun steadily at Bucky now, looking him directly in the eyes, "unfortunately for you, I've never been yours to save."

The thing about your and Bucky’s relationship is that it was never built on anything good. It would have been better, for him mostly, but the both of you, if you had just stayed friends like you wanted to, but he just kept pushing. He loves you, don’t you love him too? He knows you do, he can tell. He’s loved you since middle school and he’s never found the right time to tell you, but now that you’re both starting university, he couldn’t take the chance that you’d find someone else. (Unfortunately for him, you already had. The extra 10 years of friendship Bucky had, had nothing on the connection you had with Wanda and Natasha).

Bucky watched you grow up, watched you turn to him when your parents fought, watched you take your father’s mistreatment of you and your mother, and watched your little fear of abandonment grow when your father up and left one night. Watched the way you hoped he wouldn’t leave too, took advantage of it, really. And you watched him, watched the cracks in his nice guy persona get bigger, watched as they became canyons when you wedged yourself into them, watched as he hoped, God he hoped that you were your mother’s daughter.

And Wanda and Natasha watched you both, content to keep your relationship a secret as you explored the ways in which you could exploit Bucky, expose his true colors. They didn’t do very much pushing on your part, they wanted you to be free to make your own decisions. They may be in charge, but this was your idea, they just gave it the green light. Well, Wanda may have planted a few seeds, but that’s what she does. You were free to ignore them if you wanted, but she knew you didn’t. She knew you’d make her plans blossom.

The switch from hysterics to calm and collected has your boyfriend's head spinning. He doesn't know what part of this is real and what isn't, still half hoping this is some sick prank. Because this isn't like you, it's just not. The first time Bucky had ever shown you one of his guns, you were like a deer in headlights. You'd refused to even touch it, scared of such a weapon, a monster of human creation, you'd called it. That's who his girlfriend was, not this person standing in front of him. This mad woman, this crazy bitch. So this had to be fake, it had to be a prank.

It's not, of course, because what Bucky doesn't understand is that nothing with him had ever been anything but fake. What Bucky doesn't understand is that even though he's your boyfriend, you've never been his girlfriend, you've been Natasha and Wanda's. You've always been Natasha and Wanda's.

Natasha comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek, "go on, pretty girl, you can do it," she whispers encouragingly. This may not be a part of the original plan, but the sooner they get this done, the sooner she can take you back to her and Wanda’s apartment. And the sooner Wanda can stop obsessing over this. "Remember how he treated you. Remember how we treat you."

“Be a good girl, we’re so close.” Wanda’s voice hits your ears and it’s like you can’t help but listen to anything she says. You take the shot without a second thought, the bullet going straight through Bucky’s chest as your own chest heaves, your breathing slightly labored. You’re still holding the gun towards him as his eyes widen and he drops to the ground, touching the wound like he can’t believe what just happened. He chokes slightly, coughing, as blood starts to spill past his lips and you shut your eyes. If only he hadn’t turned into such a rotten guy, he would have survived.

You feel Wanda’s soft hand slide up the length of your arm as she slots herself behind you now, Natasha going to check around the house to make sure no one has miraculously survived being slain. A smile graces the Sokovian’s lips and she envelopes your hand in her own, gently transferring the gun into her own grip instead, letting your arm drop to your side before lowering the weapon and tucking it into her back pocket, “you did such a good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice is so sweet and loving that your bottom lip trembles involuntarily.

You love Natasha, but Wanda has always had an affect on you, and you know that if the Russian had said the same thing instead, you wouldn’t react this same way. The overwhelming feelings that loomed over tonight come back in full force as you let out the first sob. “Oh, sweet girl,” Wanda coos, turning you in her arms and bringing you against her, holding you tight, “such a big night for you, huh? But you know that what you’ve done is for the greater good, right? You know that, don’t you?”

You nod and she kisses the top of your head. “B-But Tasha came early, and I didn’t know that Katie– I thought– Tasha was too early, and I couldn’t tell if–” You can’t get your thoughts together anymore, your mind racing with everything that’s been going through your head since the beginning of the night. The fear for Kate, the confusion when Natasha showed up before 10:02pm, the very specific time she was supposed to, the way Wanda had looked just as confused as you had.

“Oh no, did she scare you?” Wanda laughs lightly, endeared and a little amused, “I’ll have to give Tasha a little talking to. She was a little early, huh?” She smooths her hand along your hair, petting you, “don’t worry about Katie, darling, she’s just fine. You know how Yelena would react if she wasn’t.”

“I-I know, but–”

“Shhh, I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, you didn’t know. Now, why don’t you give me a kiss, hm? Don’t I deserve a thank you?”

A ‘thank you’ for what, you didn’t know, but Wanda clearly thought she was deserving of one and who were you to question her? You lean up to give her a kiss, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as she grips your waist. You sigh against her lips, feeling yourself relax a little just from the comfort any amount of affection from Wanda gives you.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re pretending like I don’t exist.” Natasha stands from where she was leaning against the doorframe as she looks at you and Wanda, “do you have any idea how long I was standing there?” It had only been long enough to catch Wanda’s ‘don’t I deserve a thank you?’ and watch the two of you kiss, but still.

You pull away from Wanda and huff, your tears now forgotten, “I’m mad at you!” You glare at Natasha and she raises an eyebrow, walking towards you now, “mad at me, зайка?” She furrows her eyebrows slightly, as if she’s confused, and there’s an annoyingly attractive little smirk on her lips as she gets closer.

She grabs your hips and pulls you away from Wanda and the Sokovian would usually protest against the Russian’s audacity to steal her girl away, but she’s content to watch the two of you bicker for a few minutes. Natasha pulls you against her, “now what did I do to deserve that?” She squeezes your hips softly, looking down at you. “You were early!” You push against her chest before resting your hands there, playing with the fabric of her sweatshirt, “we had a plan!”

“Well, we didn’t exactly stick to the plan anyway, did we, baby? Huh? I don’t think the past 15 minutes were part of the plan. How about you, Wands?” Natasha turns her head slightly and makes eye contact with her girlfriend, to which the strawberry blonde just rolls her eyes, “this is not my problem. She’s not mad at me.”

“We might have if you showed up on time! You scared me, you asshole!”

Natasha is perfectly happy to humor when you’re ‘mad’ at her and even when you play fight against her or hit her, but she is not happy to hear you speak to her like that. Her movement is swift as she reaches up to grab your jaw, her grip harsh as her fingertips dig into your cheeks, “watch your tone and your language, yeah?”

You whine quietly, nodding. Natasha hums, releasing your jaw in favor of patting your cheek, “good girl. Now, why don’t you tell me properly why you’re ‘mad’ at me?” Her next actions contradict her words as she slips her hands underneath your shirt, sliding her palms up your stomach and then back down again.

“You were…” you trail off, distracted by Natasha's hands on you. She slides her hands back up and gropes your covered breasts, “I was?” There’s a smug look on her face as she looks down at you, pleased with how easily she can distract you. “You were early and… and you scared me, I didn’t know it was you.”

“My sincerest apologies, princess,” Natasha slides her hands back down and grabs your waist, squeezing roughly, and then she grins, “I didn’t realize you were so easily scared.” You’re about to curse her out, but she leans down to capture your lips in a kiss before you get the chance. The kiss is sloppy and rough as your hands grip her sweatshirt, tugging her as close as possible.

Wanda, never one to like being left out, takes her place behind you, sandwiching you between her and Natasha. Her hands slip under your shirt and replace where Natasha’s used to be, cupping your breasts and groping them softly, “let us make it up to you, ангел.”

The sound of Wanda’s soft voice in your ear relaxes you in their arms and you make a noise of agreeance against Natasha’s lips. “My poor little angel,” Wanda murmurs, “my divine little lamb. You didn’t deserve to be scared like that, did you?” Wanda’s questions are almost always rhetorical and you’re glad for that right now.

One of Natasha’s hands moves from your waist to unbutton your jeans and then slides into your panties. You grip her sweater tighter to try and urge her to move her hand further down, but she leaves it splayed just above your cunt. She pulls away from your lips, the both of you panting as you catch your breath, a string of spit connecting your lips and then dripping down.

“Say please, зайка. Just because I’ve upset you doesn’t mean you lose your manners, does it?”

“Please, Tasha. Please touch me.”

“Tell me thank you for what I did today.” She’s trying to stay in control of herself, but you can tell from her labored breathing and the flush of her neck that you’ve affected her.

“I’m so happy you freed me, Tasha. Thank you. I’m so grateful I can be yours forever now. Thank you, thank you.”

Natasha surges forward and crashes her lips against yours, a moan escaping your lips at the contact. Wanda hums in approval and it lights a fire in both yours and Natasha’s stomachs. You both know, this time, Wanda is only here to watch over the two of you, and to know what you’re doing has her approval means more to the both of you than anything you’ve ever done.

Natasha swallows your gasp when you feel her fingers beginning to rub at your clit, slow circles that work you up at just the right pace. Wanda places small kisses on your neck as Natasha works, groping and squeezing at your breasts as she does. She knows she’ll have you to herself later while Natasha works on cleaning up today’s mess, so she’s content in watching her prized possession feel good.

When Natasha moves her hand further down and sinks two fingers into your cunt, you pull away from her lips and let out a little whimper. Usually, she’d work you up, but she knew the three of you shouldn’t linger in the house longer than necessary. “Shhh, that’s it baby, you can take it.” She lets you bury your face against her chest as she pumps her fingers in and out, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit.

“There you go, that’s a good girl.” Natasha coos. She’s being uncharacteristically gentle and you think it’s because Wanda is watching or maybe she really does feel bad for scaring you like she did. She holds you tight against her as she leans over you to kiss Wanda. You feel your knees get weak when you realize what’s happening and you clench around Natasha’s fingers.

They both pay you no mind except for the fact that Natasha’s skilled fingers are still working against your cunt. She curls them just right and you bite down on her collarbone. She gasps and pulls away from Wanda’s lips, her other hand gripping your waist tighter, her blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving little crescent marks.

“Forgot our little зайка was a biter.” She grunts.

It’s not long before Natasha’s fingers work you up and push you over the edge, cumming with both her and Wanda’s permission. When Natasha pulls her fingers out you let out a little whine, sensitive from cumming. “Open up, pretty girl.” She brings her fingers up to your lips and you let her push them inside, cleaning your cum from her fingers, your cheeks hot at the action.

Natasha pulls away from you and pushes you to your knees, your shaky legs doing very little to hold you up anyway. Wanda’s fingertips drag across your cheek as she moves in front of you, standing next to Natasha. “What do you say, маленький ангел?” Wanda speaks as she uses her middle and ring finger to tilt your chin up.

You peer up at them, adoration swimming in your eyes, “Thank you Mommy. Thank you Tasha.”

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch smut

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starlight-library · 3 months

Text

IOU | OP81

pairing: ghostface!oscar x ghostface!reader

summary: reader & oscar are best friends but reader would love to get a shot with ghostface. what they don’t know is that their chances are closer than they think…

warnings: [DARK THEMES USED & SMUT] slightly descriptive murder, mention of stalking stalking, mention of blood, breath play, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, dom!oscar, sub!reader, degradation, hair pulling (if you squint??), face fucking, deep throating

a/n: once again, dark themes used! please read the warnings above!!! i answered a asked on my main here and decided to make a oneshot of it (yes i quote J's ask cause it was too good). tbh didn't even plan for a plot but here we are! I know my answer and this are vastly different...i don't wanna talk about it. also ghostface!oscar series belongs to @piastrification so homie this one is for YOU!! Also happy belated Valentines day omg. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏽

word count: 4.5K

This week has started out to be one of the worst weeks you’ve had in a very long time. Monday started off with your car breaking down on the way to campus and you completely missed your first class. When you got to campus an irritated Oscar was waiting asking why the hell you didn’t call him. “Even though I was in class, I would’ve left and gotten you,” he told you. You weren’t in the mood to argue so you just apologized and told him you’d call him next time which seemed to ease his irritation slightly. Seemed he also had a pretty shitty Monday.

Tuesday brought your shitty manager everyone hates at your job to end a relatively quiet day. It was the typical bullshit but still didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. You spent the whole drive home on the phone with Oscar screaming your head off about all the things your manager had done. The micro-managing of your work, the snarky remarks, the extra work so he can just fuck off in the back, god you could not stand this manager at all. Oscar listened like he always did. “You don’t deserve that,” you could hear the frown in his voice, “honestly he shouldn’t even be a manager. I could take care of him for you.” You laughed. You thanked Oscar for the offer but you had already decided that your manager would be your next victim. It would be tricky considering everyone in the store knew how much you two despised each other but it would get done.

You ended up with a stomach bug on Wednesday. You woke up around four in the morning with a jump and just made it to the bathroom before you got sick. You stayed in there for a good hour before there was nothing left in your system and you dragged yourself back to bed. You somehow coherently managed to message your professors you’d be missing class due to illness and texted Oscar that you’d be out sick today before promptly falling asleep. You woke to a knock on your front door and dragged yourself out of bed. You made a face seeing Oscar standing outside with a bag. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Taking care of you. Can I come in?”

“What if you catch it? What about classes?”

You watch Oscar simply pull a KN95 mask out of his pocket. You narrowed your eyes as he slipped it on. You didn’t need to see his face to see the cheeky smile he was giving. His eyes twinkled slightly with humor as he gently turned you around and guided you back inside your place as he listed the things he brought over and how he can afford missing one day to make sure you eat and rest, a habit you tend to struggle with. He really was a good best friend.

Thursday is really when you hit your limit. Arriving on campus you and Oscar head to class though neither of you really paid attention. You two spent most of the time texting each other even though you guys were sitting right next to each other. When class ended the two of you headed to the closest campus cafeteria before parting ways. You got on the line to grab the food while Oscar secured you two seats since it was roughly lunch time and everyone would be out and about.

Carrying the two to-go containers after paying you make your way to the back left corner. It’s usually where you and Oscar sat and enjoyed just people watching and gossiping about other students but you slowed your walking. Oscar was looking up at someone. Fucking Brittany. One of the sororities girls. Sorority president actually. Brittany was in a nice blouse, a skirt, some fucking heeled boots. Her blonde hair was thrown up into a messy bun and she was leaning forward slightly while smiling wide at Oscar.

Jealousy hit you like a truck. You grip the to-go containers tighter while standing frozen in your spot watching them. You wanted to march over and tell her to fuck off. Grab your stupid bun and slam her head into the table until she’s bleeding out. Or maybe take the plastic forks that rested on top of the to-go containers and gauge her eyes out for having the audacity to even look at Oscar. Alas, you refrained from it all. Instead you just tilted your chin up and made your way over with a tight smile. “I’m back!” You announce to Oscar. The both turn to face you and Oscar visibly relaxes slightly but Brittany is giving you a once over clearly unimpressed. You turn and blink, feigning surprise. “Oh! Brittany. Hi,” you keep your tone light and friendly, “what brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just talking to Oscar,” Brittany smiles, “we’re partners for our history project.” You could give two shits less what it was as you spy Brittany’s hand moving to Oscar’s upper arm and resting there with ease. Something so subtle but could come off as flirty and you wanted to cut her hand off. How dare she think she can touch Oscar like that? “…and wanted to see if he wanted to come to the frat party Saturday night,” she concludes.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet of you. Can he bring a plus one?” You ask putting the containers down, sliding one over to Oscar.

“If he wants…” Brittany glances at Oscar with a smile then back at you, “but we need to know to make sure they’re on the list. Even then…it depends on the mood if everyone gets in.”

“Then it seems kinda stupid for a list, don’t you think so?” Oscar asks finally. Brittany laughs. It wasn’t even that funny. You realize now that she’s flirting with Oscar. Well. This just won’t do. Not like you care anyway. Oscar is your best friend. Sure you love him but it’s platonic -or so you tell yourself- so it shouldn’t bother you but it does. It does bother you because Brittany was the queen heartbreaker. She used guys until she got bored. Until they got attached and couldn’t offer anything else after giving her everything. You were not about to have Oscar be a pawn in her fucking game. You had missed the remark Brittany gave as you sat down, your heart pounding in your ears.

“…let me know!” Brittany calls out as she’s already walking away.

“Ugh. As if,” Oscar murmurs and turns his attention to you. “Hey,” he starts softly. Bring your gaze to him and you blink, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage a smile, “I’m fine. Did you see the shoes she was wearing?” You ask to divert the subject as now you might have something fun to do this weekend.

* * *

Personally, you never understood the hype of sororities and managed to curb every single one who tried to recruit you. It was just a bunch of girls with money and tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a cult but it most certainly was if you got in. Moving into the house, what they expected you to wear, how to act in public, who can and cannot date, for fuck sakes they monitored your social media post and if they didn’t approve of something you posted they would either make you take it down or probably kick you out. You much preferred your freedom over dealing with that bullshit.

Luck had shined down on you when you heard some of the girls mention Brittany couldn’t go to the bar tonight because she was under the weather and just ‘had to get better for tomorrow in case her special guest came’. It was a miracle that you didn’t march over here and slaughter Brittany right then and there but you bide your time. You had to be careful.

Now, slipping the mask on, you give it a five minutes after everyone else leaves before slipping through the back door. Standing quietly, you listen to the water running and slowly making your way through the house. Climbing the stairs you follow the noise until you’re outside the bathroom. You hear Brittany singing and you silently open the door. Steam hits your face and it takes everything not to cough from the sudden heat. Stepping in you watch Brittany’s silhouette run her fingers through her hair. Gripping the hilt of your knife, you inch forward. When Brittany turns you stab the knife through the shower curtain and straight in her heart. Twisting, you step forward until Brittany is pinned against the wall as she weakly has a hold of your wrist trying to pull the knife out her screams being drowned out by the shower and her choking on her own blood. You pull out before stabbing again to ensure that there was no chance she would be able to survive. When her attempts falter, you pull the knife out. Cleaning the knife off, you slip out of the house the way you came smirking knowing the rest of them wouldn’t have hot water for a long time.

Carefully you pack everything into your backpack you left in the woods by the house before securely zipping it. Slinging a strap over your shoulder, you start to head back to your apartment. You emerge from the treeline right into an alleyway and into town which is bustling with college kids. Perks of living in a college town. You just turn left and make your way back to your apartment which is a bit further uptown and you notice as the people start to thin out.

You feel eyes burning into the back of your skull. Turning your head over your shoulder, you stop. At the end of the block you see a figure in all black and an identical mask standing there. Normal people would do anything but stare. Call out to the figure, turn away and walk, call the police, something except just stand there silently and face off with this killer. Copycat killer that is. You suppose you’d have fans, sick and twisted probably, but you didn’t expect you’d end up creating a copycat killer. Not that you minded, actually the gesture touched you actually. People had been too stupid to realize it was a copycat but not you.

After all, their first kill happened to be one of your best friends you recently dropped.

You can’t even remember why but you arrived to apologize and found her body on the floor, throat cut. It was a bit messy. The cut wasn’t as clean as you would’ve expected and there was blood everywhere. Even on the poor bitch’s hands. Then you realize that there’s a few stab wounds. Seemed she put up a fight before whoever did it got the kill. Then someone clears their throat and you raise your gaze.

There you saw him.

An identical ghostface mask, black long sleeve shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Personally you preferred boots but to each their own. As much as some little sane part in your head told you to stop judging this person’s choice in shoes and run, you stood there staring because god he was so *distracting*. Honestly, the tight fit long sleeve should be illegal for killers to wear. It clung to him defining each curve of his muscle and you couldn’t help but get turned on because well–they’re a well fit masked killer.

“Did you do this?”

The killer nodded. Silence fell upon the two of you before you finally asked, “why?”

“...Why?” The voice asked. A shiver ran down your spine hearing the low murmur. A voice modulator just like you. Smart and well fit? Shit, “that’s all you can ask? Why? Aren’t you supposed to be running and screaming?”

“Well I find that a bit stupid,” you retort, “you’re right here. Masked or not, you're taller. You have length compared to my short legs. I might have you in agility and you’re a bit messy with your killing. Shaky in the hands.” You tilt your head to the masked figure with a small smirk. You watch the figure tighten his grip on the hilt of the knife before he’s in front of you in about four steps. You gasp as your head is yanked back by your hair, knife against your throat.

“Are you asking to be killed right now?”

“I mean you gonna fuck me before you kill me?”

Ghostface reels their head back slightly. Stupidly, they loosen their grip from the shock. Taking your chance, you grab the first with the knife and twist it away from you. They shout out in pain as you get your hair free and release their wrist before kicking the figure harshly in the stomach. You step on the figure’s chest a bit harshly. Smirking down at him, “expect the unexpected sweetheart. But you never answered me. Why?”

You can hear something faintly. You cannot believe this guy is mumbling. Leaning down slightly, you turn your ear, “I can’t hear you,” you tease.

“I did it for you.”

Now you’re stunned. You lean back slightly, hand over your heart. You don’t dare move though. You expect it to be some sick joke but the laughter never came. You bite your bottom lip having half the mind to suck him off right then and there. You stay strong though. Instead, you move to stand over the figure and bend down and hook a finger under his mask. His hand flies to your wrist and you laugh.

“I’m not gonna take your mask off,” you explain, “Trust me. Right now I am getting extremely horny and I don’t think I can handle you being ugly under the mask. Would just completely kill the mood.” You laugh hearing the figure let out an offended noise, “but aren’t you sweet,” you tilt your finger up and the figure follows, lifting his chin, “don’t be a stranger, yeah? Now, you should get off so I can feign the heartbroken emotional ex- best friend.”

Ghostface is in front of you now. He’s got your chin between his thumb and finger staring down at you and you blink as you come out of your memory. He’s close and you can hear his soft breathing which forces your own breath to hitch. You curl and uncurl your fingers and you hear a small huff behind the mask accompanied by a smirk you assume. “My,” he murmurs softly, “what do we have here. You shouldn’t be walking alone at night like this little one. You never know what lurks in the dark.”

You take a deep breath to keep your voice even. Pressing your thighs together you try so hard to stop the heat that’s starting to spread through your body. You should not be getting this turned on but how could you not? You had a copycat killer who kept killing people that you had issues with somehow and someway. “I–” You start, biting your bottom lip trying to find the words but you’re cut off with a chuckle.

“You’re so worked up for me. I can see it in the clench of your legs, the flush on your cheeks, the way your pupils dilate and the way you bite your lip for me. You don’t even know who I am. I could be a total stranger, who followed you home one night and just never stopped, but I could also be your best friend, that you’ve known for years, who you think you know like the back of your hand. You don’t even know. But I know one thing for certain though- I’m sure your panties, if you’re even fucking wearing any, are already soaked.”

You hate the fact he’s right. Your breathing slightly heavy as your eyes widen as you listen. Shifting, you clench your thighs even tighter as one of your hands slips between your thighs slightly. You can’t see his eyes but you can feel his stare bruning into yours and you actually look away. This hasn’t happened before.

“Look. At. Me.”

Your eyes snap back and your mouth hangs open slightly. You can feel how wet you are every time you shift and by god do you need something here. “What do you want, love?”

“I would very much like to take you up on that offer and suck you off,” you nod your head in the direction of the alleyway.

“Excited, aren’t we?”

“We’ve been at this for months of fucking course I’m excited.”

He grips your jaw tightly, “I’d watch that tone if I were you. I can happily just walk away and leave you here alone.” Your eyes travel downwards and spy his half hard bulge against his jeans and then back up, “I can handle myself and sleep much more satisfied than you probably would with your fingers,” leaning close to your ear, “but I’d be a fool to leave you so desperate without giving you a taste.” Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head but he lets go of your jaw and spins you around, smacking your ass. You startled with a yelp before quickly scurrying to the alleyway.

Any sane person, seeing the alleyway lead to the woods, probably would have taken the chance to run but not you. You were so desperate to finally fuck this copy cat that you spun around as he rounded the corner. You gasped as your back slams against the brick wall feeling pain through your shoulder for only a brief moment as your hands fly to Ghostface’s wrist as he holds you there by your throat. Oddly enough your calm even though he could easily choke you as your breathing becomes a bit more jaded. Lifting his mask slightly you stare at the slightly chapped but pink lips as you drop your bag. They look so familiar, why?

You can’t really think longer on it as he moves his hand up to your jaw tightly and his lips are on your neck as you gasp for air. He wedges his knee between your legs and immediately you roll your hips whining loudly. You let your eyes drift close as the figure litters your neck in kisses along with marks. You let the figure tilt your head so he can litter the otherside in matching marks. Your nails dig into his wrist earning a hiss against your neck. When he pulls back your eyes stare at his lips and you’re so tempted for a taste. You find yourself starting to lean in before he’s pushing you onto your knees. Blinking, you're now eye level with his obvious bulge and glance up at him fixing his mask.

Dropping your gaze, your hands get straight to work. Undoing his jeans you pull the zipper down before pulling his pants down just enough. You hold your breath seeing the outline of his cock because oh it looks so much bigger than you’ve had which…was very few. There was only one way to really find the truth. You let your fingers dance across the waistband of his boxers before you tug, cock basically popping free. You lean back with wide eyes because it is bigger than you’ve had. It’s actually the biggest you’ve ever had. The length was maybe just an inch or two over average which was impressive enough but it was the girth that really made your mouth water and the precum leaking out just makes you drool.

Gently wrapping a hand around his cock, the figure’s breath hitches as he bucks his hip. You give a few experimental tugs not really for a reaction but more so to get a feel of him in your hand. Big. Girthy. Heavy. God, how pent up was he? You feel fingers through your head as you continue to cautiously jerk him off before licking the tip. The reaction pulled out of the figure was a low satisfied groan and it encourages you to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip before sucking, alternating between the two before you finally you’re ready.

If you had known how big he was you would’ve been a bit more…prepared. You weren’t naive enough to think you could take all of him down your throat. God no. Maybe with some training and patience later if the figure would let you but you didn’t have either of those things or really time on your side. Still, you had to make sure to keep the figures interested in you- even if he’s killed for you already. Better safe than sorry, right?

Hollowing your cheeks out and flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock, you start to suck him off. Bobbing your head you can’t help but feel a bit of a rush go to your head as the figure above lets out another loud ground. You glance up to see the figure’s neck as his head is tilted back. You're absolutely drenched watching him and find yourself slipping a hand into your own pants and moan around him as you rub your clit. That catches his attention as his head snaps down to look at you.

“Naughty girl. You’re so turned on from sucking me off that you have to touch yourself?” It earns a strangled whine, “such a pathetic slut.”

You can’t help but moan at that. “Wow. You are so fucking pathetic it’s adorable.” The figure coos and grips your hair to stop you. Shifting, he puts one foot in front of you and smirks, “here why don’t you just hump my leg while you’re at it.” He taunts.

Funny enough you’ll take him up on that. The moment he frees your head you go back to bobbing your head on his cock humming in delight as you hug his leg, settling on his foot and grind your hips down. If your lips weren’t so occupied at the moment you would smirk at the shocked reaction you pull from the figure but you’re lost in your own world. The stretch of your jaw combined with the already dull ache lulls you into a peaceful trance. You completely ignore the spit that’s starting to wet your chin.

You feel the figure’s other hand gently grab your jaw trapping you in place suddenly. You stared up with doe eyes as the figure fucked your face before you felt him hit the back of your throat. You gagged and your hands flew to his thighs for some stability as he repeated the action. “So fucking good. Taking my cock,” the figure grunts out and tears prick your eyes when he stops moving and you gag because he’s so far down your throat. He pulls off just enough for you to gasp and get some air before he’s back in your mouth and fucking your face again. You’re prepared for it this time as you relax your throat and gag less.

Having lulled yourself into such a peaceful you nearly let your eyes slip close. Sliding your hands down, you wrap your arms around Ghostface’s leg as you continue to fuck yourself against his foot while he fucked your mouth. You ended up tuning everything else out except him and listening to him ramble was going to get you off alone. ‘Such a gorgeous cock drunk whore’, ‘you look so pathetic humping my leg while you let me fuck your mouth it should be illegal’, and ‘you’d look so beautiful being my personal cock drunk slut’. It’s the one you made out between all the groans and moans and curses. You felt his tug at your hair as a warning and you finally opened your eyes.

“Fuck–shit–I’m gonna–” He groaned but doesn’t stop his thrusting. He does the opposite as he picks the pace up. That’s all the encouragement you needed. You find your hips onto his foot even harder and faster as you. You feel the familiar coil in your abdomen and you’re trying so hard to reach it. He snaps his hips forward and forces himself down your throat. Your eyes go wide and you gag, choking on his cock as he spills into your throat. You hit his thighs and try to focus on breathing through your nose but even still the rough face fucking before forced deep throating was enough to send you over the edge. You groan and whine as you continue to hump his foot before he pulls you off his cock and slips his foot out from under you.

Sitting there, you gasp for air as your chest heaves. You look up at Ghostface and lick your lips slowly as you debate if you wanna turn over and let him fuck you right now. He would. For sure…probably and he taste good to. But that would be giving too much. You were the original after all. Finding your footing, you stand up and slide your pants down. There’s a choked sound from Ghostface and you glance over at the figure looking away.

“Seriously?” You raise a brow and giggle, “you just fucked my face but you get all bashful about seeing me in my panties.”

“I–well. I mean. No–” This one sucked at lying. Rolling your eyes, you look away as you take your pants off before sliding your panties off. “What are…” Ghostface’s voice trails off as you stuff your soiled panties into his front jeans pocket. “Consider it an IOU,” you say as you hurriedly put your pants back on. You’re grabbing your bag before the figure gets a chance, “this was fun but I have to run. My friend is coming over for a movie night and he’ll be pissed if I’m not there,” you sigh dreamily at the end of the alleyway, “he’s so caring like that. Anyway, bye!” You say before you’re slinging your back over as you take off. You get home and quickly change into some pajama panties (with new panties) and a sweatshirt before finding yourself settled on the couch while flipping through for a movie.

Hearing keys jingle you look up, you smile at your best friend walking in. You two are so close that he has his own copy. Oscar’s in a baggy grey hoodie with some black jeans on as he takes his shoes off before making his way to the back of the couch. He smiles slightly at you and offers dinner but you decline. As he turns for the kitchen, you spy something hanging out of Oscar’s pocket. It looks like a fabric of some sorts. Watching him in the kitchen, you decide to get some water. Quietly getting off the couch you stand in the doorway. Oscar continues to cook himself dinner and you wait until he’s focused on whatever is in the pan to strike. Passing behind him, your eyes drop down and your breathing stops. Black lacy panties with red roses on them. You look up at Oscar who’s glancing at you over his shoulder. His gaze follows yours and he smirks.

“Can I cash that IOU now, darling?”

#starlight library presents;#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smut #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 imagine #oscar piastri x reader smut #f1 reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #ghostface!oscar #ghostface!oscar smut #starlight library fiction #contains dark themes #mentions of murder #mentions of blood #smutty #bit toxic??#for the love of god read the warning

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Note

🥶

WandaNat

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Warnings: awkward!reader. clint slander. WandaNat no mercy.

Note: i miss them

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⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This was your worst nightmare—trapped between the bodies of two incredibly hot, kind, and funny women.

And no, it wasn't in the sexy way—your brain refused to even let you go down that route. You'd implode at even the slightest thought of it.

This was Clint's fault, you quietly seethed, plotting his gruesome murder that could later be turned into a true crime podcast. Laura will have to be a widowed single mother, and the children will have to grow up fatherless, but surely it was for the best.

"Come down to visit us!" Clint said to you, your mind mimicking his voice unflatteringly. "It's been way too long since you guys came to stay with us."

It was a normal occurrence; you thought nothing of it. You, Wanda, and Natasha often went to stay with Clint and his family quarterly. Natasha visited more with her girlfriend, Wanda, and they invited you every time, but you settled that four times a year was enough.

It was usually fun, and the time spent was enjoyable, so you really had thought nothing about it.

Until Clint decided he was actually the incarnate of the devil and condemned you for some undisclosed sin.

"Oh, you three are cool sharing a room, right? The other spare bedroom is under renovation. I mean, one of you can take the couch but I highly don't recommend it with what the kids have spilled on it over the years."

No, it wasn't okay, you wanted to say at the time, but Wanda and Natasha nonchalantly waved Clint off and told him it was fine, and the conversation breezed on, never to be returned to again.

Why would he invite all three of you if there wasn't enough space!? You tried to tell Wanda and Natasha that you could drive to the nearest hotel at night, but they looked at you strangely and asked if you hated them. It was jokingly, but you could hear a tinge of hurt in their voice, which silenced you from offering to leave again.

But now you were suffering.

The bed was way too small for three people but left enough room for just a couple of inches to keep you from coming into skin-to-skin contact with either redhead.

You stared at the ceiling, despite being unable to make out any details of the room in the darkness.

Why the fuck were you in the middle?

You should've been on the edge. At least then, you could hang half your body off it to keep some distance.

You started at the edge of the bed—make no mistake. But then Natasha came to your side and asked you to scootch over. You assumed she preferred sleeping on the right side, so you started to make your way down to the other side. But then, to your horror, Wanda climbed in from the other end, effectively trapping you in the middle.

The words were caught in your throat as you tried to force them out and ask if you could have the edge, but Natasha and Wanda mumbled their goodnights before promptly falling asleep.

This was unacceptable; you mentally cried. This was—weird. You know that Wanda and Natasha have been together for ages, and they probably didn't care, but it was strange to be in the middle of them like this. You're way too awkward for this.

It brought up the unwanted feelings you've been trying to get rid of for months.

The worst part was that it was winter, and this room was so fucking cold. Was Clint going through financial hardship? Why isn't there any heat in this room?

You wished him ill, you wished him ill, you wished bad things upon Clint Barton.

You shifted, trying to pull the blanket up higher and shrink yourself to retain some of the heat. You turned on your side, facing Wanda's back, and frowned. You could practically feel the heat radiating off her and wanted to scoot away from her. But you couldn't. You'd scoot right into Natasha, who was also radiating heat as she faced your back.

At this moment, you hated them for being so unaware of their temptations.

You swallowed. Moving a little closer to Wanda wouldn't be too bad, right? Just to steal a bit more of her warmth, so you could fall asleep and wake up early to get out of bed.

You scooted a little closer, your nose just inches away from her back since there wasn't much wiggle room. Her heat emitted off her like a goddamn fireplace, and you sighed a little at the warmth on your nose and the parts of your cheeks.

It was still pretty cold, and you shivered a little.

Your movement seemed to wake Wanda as she lifted her head to look around at you. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Turning back, Wanda lay her head back down and shut her eyes with a yawn.

You started to scoot back to where you were, but Wanda grabbed your wrist from under the blanket and pulled it over her waist as she shuffled back into you.

The warmth pressed against your front jolted you, and you were stiff, despite how good it felt.

"любимая, she's cold," Wanda mumbled in the dark as she threaded her fingers through yours.

Wanda was clearly speaking to Natasha because the redhead behind you shifted and moved closer until she was pressed against your back snuggly. Her arms wrapped around your midsection as she tangled her legs through yours.

You wanted to die.

You wanted to kill Clint Barton and then run into oncoming traffic.

"Um," you croaked.

"Is this better?" Natasha mumbled sleepily, and she was so close you felt her lips move against your shoulder.

No.

Yes.

No.

"Uh," you dragged out before finally deciding with an awkward stiff, "Yes."

It was warm—almost too warm now. You closed your eyes with a silent groan.

You weren't getting any sleep tonight.

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff x you #wandanat x you #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #mm: my fics #mm.drabble.wandanat

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mushies-stories · 11 months

Text

Our perfect girl

Billy X Reader X Stu

Stu reeled you in, now it's time to show you how much Billy wants you too.

the boys managed to get away and have made it to collage where they meet the reader. the reader doesn't know about the boy's 'hobby' or verry much about the murders in the first place.

Warnings: SMUT, Creampie, PNV, Female reader.

word count: 3087

SMUT BELOW

It was Stu who approached you first, seeing you at a coffee cart on campus between classes one day. He was instantly attracted to you so he brought Billy the next day to the same spot and waited for you to show up. Once they saw you approaching they got in line behind you. You were short and cute and had an aura of sweet innocents. “Hot chocolate please.” you asked the barista politely and they could practically hear the smile in your voice.

Billy made it a rule to look into anyone they planned on dating since later they may end up finding out their little secret and they wanted to at least have a chance at keeping you alive and with them. So Billy sent Stu in first Since Stu was easy to get along with and basically acted like the perfect boyfriend aside from being a psychotic murderer. He learned your interests and soon you were head over heels for him.

You had gotten to know Billy over the few months since you had met Stu and started dating him and he always seemed to be going out with another girl every other night. That didn't stop him from eyeing you up though. It was always brief and he never lingered too long but if you caught him he didn't flinch away. He simply acted as if he wasn't even looking. And Stu never seemed to notice.

Tonight Billy stayed in and you all decided to watch a scary movie. You were watching the ring, a movie you picked out because you enjoyed showing the boys Japanese horror movies the most. They were so used to slasher fics that these movies were a whole new world.

You and Stu layed on the couch with you back to his front, one arm under your head and the other across your stomach, keeping you pulled close to him. Billy sat in the chair with his legs hanging off one of the arm rests.

About hallways through the movie Stu decided he was more interested in looking down your shirt, hand now resting on your exposed thigh, dangerously close to your ass. You had told Stu you wanted to keep the PDA down when other people are around, like Billy when he stayed for movie nights. Stu didn't seem to want to follow that request tonight. He scooted himself down enough so he could lean into your neck from behind and pull you closer to himself by wrapping his arm back around your middle.

You didn't think much of it and let out a content sigh, nestling into his warmth as his breathing fanned the side of your neck.

A few moments later Stus lips were giving your neck soft kisses. Delicately he lines the side of your jaw with them. You melt everytime Stu even touches you, not having much experience before him other than an ex boyfriend from highschool you lost your virginity and promptly broke up with. You held onto the arm that was wrapped around you, gripping it soft in a warning, or a plea before you were puddy in his arms.

You felt him smirk against your soft skin before grazing his teeth softly before nipping the spot, the soft gasp that left your lips caught Billy’s attention. He glanced over and saw Stu smirking at him while you had your eyes closed and head pushed into the pillow resting between you and Stus arm.

Guess Stu wanted to surprise him, Billy thought. He hadn't told him tonight was going to be the night they told her they both wanted her. A crooked smirk played along his lips as he watched Stu adjust so his knee slid between your legs and was hovering over you, holding himself up with the arm that was under you. The other held your hips down, your eyes snapped open to see Stu smiling adoringly down at you. He just loved seeing how easily you melt for him.

You turned your head just a fraction to see Billy looking down at you with an amused smirk, legs now planted on the ground. You looked back to Stu with worry. “Stu, what about Billy?” You asked.

Stu glanced at the normally Grumpy looking man. “Well he can join, if you’d like him too princess.” He said. Leaning back down to nuzzle into your neck, continuing his sweet assault but now with sloppier kisses and sucking.

“What are yoh-ahh, talking about?” You asked between sweet soft gasps that had Billy’s dick twitch in his pants. Stu was getting both of you hot and riled up.

Stu pulled away enough to look you in the face. A hand came to your burning cheek, holding it softly as his thumb stroked over it. His knee came up to apply pressure to your growing aching core. “I said he can if you want him too, I know he does.” you looked at him with complete confusion. You didn't know what to say, was he serious…”it’s okay with me baby, we both want you. We just didn't want to scare you off right away.” he said softly, giving you a reassuring smile.

You looked at Billy who’s smirk was no longer there. Instead it was something more serious. He was waiting for your answer. They meant it. You looked back at Stu, chewing your bottom lip, contemplating. “I don’t know.” you admitted. “I still freeze up around you and my brain short circuits all the time… and the girls I see Billy with I don't think I'd be able to keep up.” Your voice almost gave out in the end. You brought your arms up over your face, wanting to hide just how embarrassed your confession made you.

Both men were more surprised that you were worried about not being good enough over them sharing you. Billy nodded to Stu to sit you up. Stu grabbed your forearms and hauled you up with him, bringing you to sit across his lap. Hands resting on your thigh and hip. Billy was standing in front of you two. You looked up at him, cheeks burning as his intense stare sent a shiver up your spine. He brought a hand to cradle the side of your jaw. “Oh sweet girl, you’re more than enough. Those girls were replacements in a way until we could talk to you.” he said softly.

The look in his eyes was soft and maybe even longing? something even you knew wasn't easy for him. Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Replacements?” You questioned. Was he really just seeing random women because he wanted you the whole time?

He nodded. “I wanted you the moment i saw you, wanted to talk to you, kiss you…” his eyes trailed over your body before meeting your eyes again. Your breath caught in your throat when his thumb came to swipe softly at your bottom lip. “What do you say angel, give me a shot. If you hit it, we stop.” He added to reassure you they wouldn't force you.

He waited for your answer, thumb lingering on the side of your jaw again, you leaning into his touch as you thought about everything. Head spinning with emotions and now a burning desire. It was Stu gripping your hip a little tighter and whispering in your ear that refocused you.

You nod once. “okay.”

Stu gently pushed you up to Billy who guided you a few steps back to the chair. You looked back at Stu who sat in his spot on the couch with a grin on his face. Sitting Billy guided you by the hips to straddle his lap. Your heart raced as his hands brought you down against him. His hardening cock pressing into your core against your flimsy shorts and you shuddered at the contact. You held onto his shoulders for support so you didn't just melt completely into him.

“Relax baby girl.” he said softly, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair at the base of your neck, the other rubbed up and down your thigh softly in a soothing motion. He was treating you like a startled animal. He looked you over with a soft smile. He flattened his hand to cradle your head gently and pulled you in, his lips gliding against your own so softly you wouldn't have imagined it was Billy Loomis if you weren’t the one in his lap. He deepened the kiss and brought his hand from your tight to grip softly at the exposed skin on your hips. You let out a content sigh into the kiss, fully relaxing into his hold.

Billy had to pull back for air but when he did the sight of your face made his dick twitch against your pussy. Your pupils were blown and you were panting softly, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. He couldn't help it and bucked his hips up, causing you to let out a soft gasp and grip the fabric of his shirt. “Hey Stu, she alway get all worked up this fast?” he asked, grin crooked on his face. Billy rolled your hips into his just so he could watch your eyes flutter and your mouth let out the sweetest little whimpers.

“Yeah, she's pretty sensitive. Sweet girl just wants to be touched.” He chuckled, watching you with a growing hunger. “Baby are you gonna let Billy fuck your perfect little pussy?” he asked, palming his hard on through his jeans.

You felt like your voice would give out so you responded with a nod and a roll of your hips and you whined softly. Your arms came up to the sides of his neck to pull yourself closer.

Billy let his head lean on the back of the chair, his grip on your hips tightening. Stu had said you got kind of needy, light a switch flipped in your head and the only thing you could think about was being fucked but he didn’t know this was all it would take to have you practically begging.

He slid his hands down to your tights and tapped them softly to get your attention. “Hold on to me.” He said gripping your thighs and standing with you clinging to him. He walked you into Stus room, wanting to make you feel comfortable with something familiar. He tossed you onto the end of the bed and watched your breasts jiggle on impact. “Can you take your shorts and panties off for me babe?” he asked, undering his belt slowly. His motions halted when he saw you falter, your shyness taking over again as you chewed your bottom lip. .

Stu leaned against the door frame watching you figure out how to act. He thought it was adorable how attached to him you were but also how much you wanted to let Billy in. “You can do it baby, show him how wet you are for him.” he encouraged you with a grin.

You nodded and your hands traveled down to the waistband of your shorts and tugged them down and over your knees along with your panties, Letting them fall to the ground. Billy brought his hands to hold your legs apart before you could get shy again and try to hide yourself. A groan rumbled in his chest when he saw how wet you were. He slid a finger through your folds and you shuddered at the contact “how much do you want me to touch you sweet girl?”. He asked, voice low and full of lust. He slide a finger into your tight hole

You looked at him through half lidded eyes. “Billy~” His name fell so sweetly from your plump lips it made his heart skip a beat. He slid his finger slowly out of you and brought the digit to his mouth where he sucked your juices off with a little pop. your face heated up and your hips wiggled at the loss of contact to your needy pussy.

He couldn't bother with taking his clothes off now, he shimmied his pants and boxers down enough so his throbbing cock could spring free. He wasn’t as long as Stu but he was thicker and his cock had your head spinning with anticipation anyways. You let out a soft whine when he finally settles between your plush thighs and lines the head at the entrance of your tight hole, he ran his cock through your slick folds, savoring the soft sounds you made below him. “Tell me babygirl, how much do you want my cock filling this pretty pussy.” He asked again, cock pushing at your tight hole.

You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Please Billy, I need you.” You begged, voice quit and urgent.

With a low groan Billy began to slowly sink his cock into you, he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as a soft strangled moan pushed past your lips. “Fuckin tight baby.” he said through gritted teeth, finally bottiming out in you. Your hands had already found their way around his neck to pull him closer.

He waited a moment to let you get used to him before his lips found yours. In a heated kiss his hips began a slow gentle pace, fucking into you like you were a delicate flower. You whined and bucked up against him to urge him to fuck you faster. He pulled away and looked down at your beat red face as his hips rocked gently into you. “What baby, Need more?” he teased, loving how your pussy fluttered around him.

You shook your head and looked at him with eyes that had even him melting. “Please~ more Billy.” You brought your legs up to wrap around him, pulling him deeper into you.

A growl rumbled in his chest at your actions. “Dirty girl, begging for my cock, fuck.” He said, struggling to keep himself contained. Stu said you liked to be fucked dumb but he also knew Stu was nicer than him during sex. Stu wanted to please his partners more than anything and Billy normally just wanted to destroy their pussies. But with you, he wanted to make you feel good so he picked up the pace and deepened his thrusts. Your back arched into him and a lustful moan left your lips.

Stu was enjoying his show, seeing Billy be so tender with you and you responding so perfectly to him made him proud of both of you. He wanted Billy to have his chance with you, to experience all of you and for you to get to know Billy better before they started the fun games with all of you.

Billy’s head was beginning to fog up with the sounds of his cock fucking your whined for him to fuck you harder. He did and you let out a whale of a moan. He leaned in to catch your lips once again in a crushing kiss. Lips smashing against each other as his tongue explored your mouth, eating every sweet moan and gasp you let out. His hips snapped into you, cock hitting your sweet spot every time.

From behind him Stu decided to let out some wisdom. “Her neck is pretty sensitive, and she just loses it when you touch her clit at the same time.” He informared his partner.

Your brain was so full of feeling Billy’s dick fucking you into oblivion you could barley register what your boyfriend even said. But Billy did and caused him to break your kiss and adore your fucked out face, eyes closing with each thrust to your g-spot. He slid a hand between your bodies and the pad of his thumb came to rub small circles on your swollen bud. You're through your head back with a needy whine.

Billy drank the site of you in, his cock disappearing into your tight hole, sucking him in as your whither bellow him. “Fucking beautiful. So perfect baby girl.” He praised as your mind was drifting father and farther into pleasure. “Gonna cum for me? Cum all over my cock that you're taking so well?” He said between breaths.

Your arms and legs gripped him tighter, not allowing him room to pull away. “Fuck.” he grit out through a clenched jaw. Your pussy was gripping his cock so tight he wasn't going to last that much longer. He leaned his head down to your neck and began sucking the soft skin below your ear. He nipped softly and left small kisses behind before finding a new spot to assault with his teeth.

You arched into him, pleading and strangling moans for him to let you cum fill the room. “pleaAh- Billy!” you whaled, finding it hard to form words. With his thumb on your clit and his mouth attacking your neck Billy pounded into your pussy with his own release bubbling up. A few more thrust and your legs were tightening around his hips and a vice-like hold. “Fu-uuuck!” you screamed as your walls clenched around the thick mass filling your pussy. Your high took over you with no warning, the only thing you could do was hold onto Billy who was now rutting himself into you given the little space you allowed him to move.

His own release followed right after, his hot cum filled your pussy as he groaned and bucked against you, cock twitched as he emptied himself in you. “Fuck baby, fucking pussy is taking everyting.” He said into your ear as you both came down from your highs.

He pulled back and grinned at your fucked out form, mouth hanging open with his cock still barried deep in your pussy that was now fluttering around his cock. He slowly pulled his softening cock out and watched as his cum seeped out of your little hole.

“Told you she was perfect.” Stu said, now walking over to the two of you to stand beside your fucked out body. “She likes when you cum in her, keeps you there so you can't get away.” his hand moved damp hair away from your face, loving your cock drunk face.

“Yeah I noticed.” Billy said with a chuckle, still catching his breath. “Fucking perfect.” he said, giving you a crooked grin.

“So, how's' bout it babe? Got it in you for one more?” Stu grinned down at you, watching the sparkle of desire reignite in your eyes.

#scream #scream1996 #scream x reader #ghost face #ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #scream1996x reader #billy loomis smut #Stu macher x reader smut #billy loomis x reader smut

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double--blind · 7 months

Text

(SPOILERS) Andrew and plausible deniability, OR: mfer doesn't wanna be held accountable for his actions

This has been churning in my head for a while (I am mentally ill 🥴), but a large part of the driving force behind Andy and his actions is his aversion to blame. He sorta shares this w/Ashley (she's got quite a few rants abt how things aren't her fault), but I believe Andrew takes it just a step further.

I've seen many say this before, but from the start of the game, you'll notice that even beyond normal moral quandaries, Andrew's first objection to any horrific action Ashley proposes is usually a variance of "what if we get caught?". He objects not bc her ideas are ethically repugnant, but bc they could be found out as having done them, and he knows rationally that others know they're bad. This goes as far back as childhood with the Nina incident. He fears punishment and the threat of prison more than he apparently worries about what his crimes might mean for him as a person or what they might mean for the people that might be affected by them (save him and Ashley). This doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilt or have nightmares abt them, but they're not his first priority. Trouble's a pain to deal with, and the dude's low-energy.

In fact, most of his guilt seems largely self-centered. Like, no exaggeration: if it isn't about either him or Ashley (which is, in a way, lowkey also about him), then he couldn't really care less. Do you recall him ever expressing worry or remorse on Nina's behalf? Mourning her? We think Ashley's the one w/empathy issues, but Andrew's in the same boat imo. Self-preservation and self-interest is all that's keeping him seemingly amiable enough for polite society, bc for the most part, he really couldn't be bothered.

In his dreams, the victims of their murders are just bodies: interchangeable, holding no more meaning beyond the fact that they're dead. Any corpse's limb will do to replace the one Ashley cooked—never mind that they may be from different people—bc they're all the same to him. Even Julia, sitting in her dorm room surrounded by evidence of Ashley's harassment, gets no sympathy from Andrew. For the most part, he elects to ignore it all, and regards Julia herself with a detached sorta nostalgia tinged in no small part with apathy.

img txt: You'll never see her again. And the fact that it doesn't really bother you, bothers you.

(The only things of notable worth from her were the colored pencils on her desk, which he promptly takes from her to give to Leyley instead, and isn't that just some crazy symbolism right there?)

His fear of punishment goes hand-in-hand with his desperate pursuit of plausible deniability. Everything he does, he does under certain self-imposed conditions. If it's Ashley's idea and he argues back, it doesn't matter in the end if he goes along with it, bc it was Ashley's idea in the first place. He's just there to make sure she doesn't get them in trouble, bc she needs him, bc he's gotta take care of her. Even if it's not her idea at all (e.g., killing the closet warden, killing the lady in room 302), it's still her fault, bc he did it for her, bc everything he does, he does for her.

Ashley's a manipulative, evil lil possessive gremlin w/a soul as black as tar, and Andy's a doormat, but don't think for a second that part of him doesn't use that dynamic a little to keep from reflecting on what he is. He suffocates under it, but he also relies on it. If there's any sort of plausible deniability available, he'll take it and run with it.

The truth of the matter is that they're both deeply toxic, warped individuals. The difference is that Ashley's owned up to it and quite frankly doesn't care. Andrew hasn't. He's the "normal" one.

Now, for the funky incest part (what we're all here for babyyyyy)—

We've all seen the flavor text abt the bed-sharing by now, right?

img txt: Oh yeah, you tooootally have nightmares as often as you claim.

We know for a fact that aside from some light teasing, maybe, Ashley would have no problem whatsoever with sharing a bed w/Andrew. Heck, she'll coax him into bed (demo) or climb onto the couch with him (ep 2) w/o any prompting from him whatsoever, just bc she feels like it. Andrew, apparently, can't do the same. He doesn't allow himself this intimacy of his own choosing, so he has to lie and pretend to get it if he wants it. He's greedy for her, too, but he can't let himself show it.

If something is sufficiently too intimate in his eyes, beyond anything he can excuse away for some reason or another, then he'll stop himself from doing it. Just like how he wouldn't let himself succumb to the urge of pulling Ashley into his arms to make her smile, but is willing to give her a hug when she asks for it in front of their parents.

He insists on the extra expense of two beds, and then cites his nightmares and panic attacks as the driving force behind crawling into bed w/her, bc then it isn't really his fault now, is it? He tried to stay away, after all. He did! He just didn't have a choice!

Lol

Andrew can't admit to wanting this—buries those feelings and thoughts as deep as he can so they fester and bleed, the repressed idiot—so he gives Ashley all the power to decide how close they get. It's in Ashley's hands. He's free of that hassle.

Which is why the post-sex vision, and Ashley's reaction to it, is so dangerous. @csg-iii made a good point about it in my last post:

img txt: I think the biggest point about "11" is that Andrew asks/begs Ashley for reassurance that it will never happen ("never say never"). It's a subtle admission that if she really wants it to happen, he knows he won't be able to resist his own urges. His only ""hope"" of avoiding going there is if Ashley doesn't want it.

Andrew, in absolving himself of this choice and putting it in Ashley's hands, shoots himself in the foot, bc what if Ashley goes the whole mile? Then the only real thing keeping his desires unrealized was the fact that they had never been voiced as an option before.

He doesn't want to think of himself as someone who'd bone his own sister. Forget being a cannibal, demon summoner, or a murderer; those titles were foisted upon him. This is too close to something real that he carries inside him; this isn't anything Ashley's buried in him, but rather something of his own invention. Something he'll definitely have to take responsibility for.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #coffincest #andrew graves #txt post #yeah......... I'm rambling again sorry guys #character analysis

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

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State of My Head 1

Find the series masterlist

Your life is pretty good. Run around as a cat, get into places you shouldn’t, and get back out. Occasionally shift back to human to flirt. And on your way again you go. Until you make the mistake of trotting right into a military base and getting caught.

Warnings: Lying, mentions of hunting and eating small critters, reader is a literal cat (cat shifter), swearing, minor violence, world building, shifter etiquette, some self-deprecating humor, mention of death, threats of violence.

Word count: 4.8k

Eventual Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x f!shifter!reader (I swear this has a happy ending)

Nighttime jaunts were your favorite. Fewer people to avoid, less noise, fun hunting. Plus, as a cat you could see pretty well in the dark. It was great.

Tonight, though, you had a new goal in mind. There was a military base you’d never seen the inside of. And the middle of the night would be a perfect time to explore.

It didn’t take long to find a gap at the bottom of the fence big enough for you to squeeze through. You were small as a cat, no bigger than the average house cat. You trotted past a dirt path, ignored an obstacle course altogether, and finally started sniffing around some buildings. The base was big, larger than you’d anticipated. Interesting.

Also lacking in rodents to chase, at least at this time of night. Damn.

You scaled a perfect tree next to one building, sharp claws making the task easy. One leap and you went from the tree to the roof of the building, padding up to the very top of the roof. Then you sat, curling your tail over your feet, to observe your temporary territory. This was a good spot - you could see a good part of the base, there was a nice fresh breeze up here, and all was quiet.

Honestly, a good napping spot.

You’d just wake up with the sun and be on your way again before anyone noticed you.

Things didn’t quite work out that way. You woke to a creak and a sudden shift in the lighting, sunlight blocked by something. You blinked your eyes open, expecting a shadow.

And found yourself looking instead at a man.

You were on your feet a moment later, hissing as he reached for you.

“It’s okay kitty,” he said, voice soft and easy. “C’mere, I’ll help you down.”

As if you needed help down from the roof! You hissed again for good measure and then bolted, running straight past his outstretched hand and ignoring his shout. You jumped to the tree, pausing to regroup.

An entire group of soldiers stood around watching events unfold. There was some good-natured laughing and teasing as the man on the roof got back down, swearing.

You eyed the drop, thinking about how best to proceed. This had definitely not been part of the plan.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” another man cooed, both hands lifted towards you. “We’re just trying to help. You’re okay. Nobody is gonna hurt you. C’mere, pretty kitty.”

Almost despite yourself, your ears pricked forward, listening to him. He sounded nice, at least. You crept forward slowly, and a few of the soldiers moved closer too. You backed up, and the man hissed at them and flapped one hand at them until they backed off again. So you started forward again, carefully, until you could sniff the tips of his fingers.

Well. He smelled okay, at least. Still moving cautiously, you moved closer, letting him grab you. He was gentle, so you decided not to attempt to murder him. Even better, he promptly cuddled you into his chest, scratching your ears.

Okay. This one could live.

“Wonder where she came from?” one of the others asked, sneaking closer. Not sneaking very well though.

“No idea,” the one holding you said. “Doesn’t have a collar.”

“Could be a stray.”

“What would a stray be doing in here, though?”

“I’m sure there’s mice and things for her to catch, that’s probably what brought her here.”

You let the talking wash over you, amused. This wasn’t bad. You’d let them coddle you for a few more minutes and then be on your way. You could run faster than them, after all.

“What’s all this?”

The soldiers all stopped and turned to look at someone new. He was wearing a silly-looking hat.

“We found a cat, sir,” the one holding you said. Very unnecessarily, if anyone asked you. (They didn’t. Nobody ever did. It was enough to hurt a girl’s feelings after a while.)

“I can see that. It doesn’t belong on base.”

“We thought she might be a stray,” one of the others offered. “We were going to bring her to you, sir.”

He snorted, finally walking over closer, eyeing you. One hand reached out, and for a moment you thought he was going to pet you. Rude, since he didn’t let you sniff his hand first, but whatever.

Except he scruffed you.

You yowled plaintively as he held you aloft, dangling uncomfortably from his hand. Squirming only got you held tighter. This was embarrassing - you hadn’t been scruffed like this since you were a kitten.

“She doesn’t belong on base,” the hatted man said. “I’m sure you all have things to be doing.”

With a despondent scattering of “yes, sir”s, the soldiers all left you to your fate.

“Well, guess you’re stuck with me until I can get animal control out here.” His voice was low and rumbling, and he carried you with him towards one of the buildings. It was really uncomfortable, and you yowled again, trying to grab something to hold on to.

“Captain,” a new person called, and, really, how many people were there on this base?

“Gaz.” The captain paused, at least.

“Why do you–nevermind. Give me the cat, you’re making me sad just watching you carry it like that.”

“It’s a stray,” the captain pointed out, even as he held you out.

Gaz was quick to scoop you up, one arm sturdy under your paws, his other holding you steady. “She, I think,” he said, looking down at you. You blinked up at him, already relaxing again now that you weren’t being dangled about. “Doesn’t look like a typical stray.”

He may not have meant it as a compliment, but you took it that way. You knew you looked striking as a cat, with bold rosettes and spots, eyes and ears rounder and bigger than a typical housecat.

The captain grunted. “Still doesn’t belong on base,” he grumbled.

“Aw, c’mon, cap. Can’t hurt to let her hang around for a few hours.” Gaz shifted his grip on you to let you sniff his fingers. Oh, you approved. And he smelled nice! You liked this one.

“Just don’t let it get into any trouble.” The captain waved one hand, heading back inside.

“You won’t cause any trouble, will you?” Gaz murmured to you, low and soothing. He had a nice voice.

You blinked at him and very deliberately meowed. Human-raised cats did that, and you didn’t want him thinking you were more than a typical cat.

“Good kitty.” He scratched under your chin, and you stretched your neck out to give him more room. Mmm, that felt nice.

“Hey Gaz, whatcha got there?”

“Soap.” Gaz shifted his grip on you just a little, and you blinked at the new person. Soap, apparently. Ridiculous. “Someone found a stray cat on base and I rescued her from Cap.”

“Pretty kitty,” Soap murmured, holding out a hand for you to sniff. Oh good, you’d found the polite ones. “Bit exotic, isn’t she?”

“I thought so too, but she’s well-behaved.” Gaz stroked one big hand down your back.

“Huh.” Soap tickled under your chin. “Ye wanna come cuddle, kitty?”

“Nuh uh, she’s with me.” Gaz turned slightly away from Soap, much to your amusement.

“Ye can share,” Soap wheedled.

“Maybe later.” Gaz smirked down at you as he started walking. “You’re on duty with me, cat.”

Well. Not the worst thing in the world. You did wait until he had stopped somewhere again to crawl up onto his shoulder, balancing across his shoulders easily to watch the world from this new vantage point. He didn’t even protest, just let you get settled there.

And you stayed there until lunch time. Gaz sat at a table with Soap, the two bantering. But you mostly ignored them, because Gaz tore pieces of meat off his sandwich and fed them to you. You accepted each morsel delicately, careful not to bite him by accident, quite content with how this was going.

A good-smelling man hand-feeding you bits of his own lunch? Yes, thank you.

“My turn,” Soap declared once lunch was over, picking you up and cuddling you to his chest. You made a disgruntled noise but decided to show mercy and not kill him.

“Take it easy with her, yeah?” Gaz did not try to grab you back but he did watch Soap as the Scot left with you.

“Well, pretty, let’s torment some rookies, aye?” His fingers scratched through your fur, which was acceptable. For now. But you still scrambled up onto his shoulders as soon as you could, much preferring this to being cradled like an infant.

Soap was okay, but he was a little too handsy. He kept reaching up to rub your fur or play with your tail or even rub his nose into your side. That got him a gentle swat to the head. But otherwise you bore the indignity with aloof grace.

“Johnny, if you're not careful, that cat’s gonna kill you.”

You did not jump at the voice behind you, because that would be undignified. You did not hiss either. You might’ve dug your claws in, but Soap turned too fast anyway.

“Nah, she’s a right sweet li’l thing,” Soap cooed, reaching up to tickle your chin again.

And that was enough of that. You tensed, gathering yourself, and jumped from him to the big masked man, who didn’t even flinch when you scrambled up to his shoulders. Ha! Even taller now!

“Easy, cat.” This one had a nice voice, deep and rumbly. But he let you settle in without touching you, which you appreciated.

Soap was pouting when you looked at him, and you turned your face away from him, haughty. That’s what he got for ignoring your signals to stop.

The big masked man didn’t seem to mind you perching on his shoulder as long as you kept your claws to yourself. And you were well-mannered, so of course you kept your claws to yourself. He didn’t annoy you, after all.

It was an arrangement that worked well for both of you until dinner time.

You spotted Gaz across the room and shamelessly abandoned your current perch, trotting under tables and around soldiers until you could leap up onto the table next to Gaz. You sat, tail curling around your paws, and chirped at him.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he greeted, holding out his hand for you to sniff. You headbutted his palm, eyes half-lidded. He already smelled warm and familiar, like safety.

And, just as you’d hoped, he fed you bits of his dinner. You could get used to this kind of treatment.

“Gaz, I thought you were going to get rid of the cat.” The captain sat across from him, looking disgruntled.

“She’s sweet,” Gaz defended. “And she’s not hurting anything.”

The captain grunted, eyes narrowing at you. “At least get her off the table.”

Gaz didn’t protest, just picked you up gently and settled you on his lap instead. You hunkered down there, gently kneading his thigh. This was a comfy spot.

After dinner seemed to be downtime. Soap once again attempted to nab you, which you deftly avoided by skittering out of the mess hall.

Which meant you had some time to yourself.

You meandered around the base, staying out of reach of the soldiers with ease. Honestly, it was amusing to watch them light up at seeing a cat. Especially since none of them had any idea that you were more than just a cat.

You did a bit of hunting, more for fun than anything. You were still satisfied with the meal Gaz had shared with you.

The base quieted, settling in for the night. And you crept towards the barracks, slipping in an open window and then making your way through the halls, sniffing under every door until you found the right one.

And then you sat and scratched at the door. Politely.

When that didn’t elicit an immediate reaction, you scratched some more. And then stretched up on your hind legs to sniff the handle and see if you could turn it without shifting back to human.

“Hey, kitty.”

You startled, tail poofing up, and spun to look at Gaz. He looked abashed, crouching down slowly with his hands out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he cooed, gentle and warm. “You looking for someplace to sleep?”

You chirped at him, consciously willing your tail back to normal. You’d still have to groom it later. When Gaz hesitated, you chirped again and threw yourself against his calves, winding between his feet with obvious affection.

Amused now, he opened the door for you, letting you in first.

An opportunity you didn’t miss.

His room was neat, of course. And smelled like him. Which was amazing. You checked under his bed (boring), on top of his bed (pillow was too flat), and even batted at his footlocker (smelled interesting but also closed).

“Mischievous,” he said, still amused. “Alright, if you wanna stay you gotta settle down, right? I need sleep.”

You meowed at him, but made sure you weren’t too loud. That would count as agreement, right?

He ran gentle fingers over your head and behind your ears before he turned to start undressing. You thought about watching… but gave him his privacy, turning instead to sniff the rest of his room. Humans were so body-shy, for reasons you’d never understood.

The bed creaked, and you trotted back and jumped lightly onto the bed. He laid down, getting comfortable, and you followed suit.

You only took up part of his pillow.

“Cat,” he spluttered, one hand gently nudging you to the side. “Oi. I need to breathe, yeah?”

You lifted your head to give him a supremely unimpressed look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled. “This is my bed.”

You put your head down again and closed your eyes, pointedly. He huffed something between a sigh and a laugh, but he settled down and stopped moving. You took it as agreement.

You woke when he got up, stretching out and giving him a bit of privacy to dress for the day again.

“Don’t think I can keep you with me all day,” he admitted, reaching over to pet the top of your head again. “Probably don’t wanna come running with me.”

No. No you did not. Smart man. You rewarded his intelligence by headbutting his hand.

“Well, tell you what, I’ll see if I can spot you for breakfast, yeah?” He smiled, scratching under your chin gently. “Just don’t let Price catch you, he’ll toss you out.”

You purred your agreement. You couldn’t entirely blame the captain - he just didn’t seem to like cats. (You could take that personally. It was in your nature to take that personally. But you decided to be the bigger person here and simply decide he was tasteless.)

So you had some time to yourself. You avoided the many feet and scaled the nearest tree, using trees and rooftops as your highways. The day was beautiful, sunny and not too warm, and you found a good napping spot on top of a roof. Out of sight from below, this time.

You did not show up to breakfast, because you didn’t want to be too predictable, but also because you didn’t want to seem too smart. So you napped through breakfast, content to just lay in the sunshine.

You could get used to this kind of life. Quiet. Having your own territory, not having to fight for space or food. Especially being hand-fed by a gorgeous man.

But then you also ran the risk of being discovered, if you stayed. And that could end poorly.

Someone wearing a new cat scarf kind of poorly.

You stretched languidly before getting to your feet. The safest thing to do would be to stay another day or two and then be on your way. If you really wanted stability, you’d find somewhere in a city to be a human too, carve out your own space as both cat and human.

It was something to consider, at least.

Going across rooftops, you investigated more of the compound. You could smell the shooting range, making your nose wrinkle and your ears flick back. But you gamely kept on, sniffing around and exploring.

This really was a good spot, though. No competition. Lots of room to roam.

And mice. One of which you caught, shaking until its neck broke. You weren’t really hungry, didn’t need it for kittens or anything.

So you trotted off to a quiet spot near the fence and buried the mouse.

By the time you meandered your way back, the sun was high in the sky. Probably lunch time. Mmm. Hopefully Gaz would agree to give you food again.

You peeked into the mess, looking for your person. He was, of course, near the back, with Soap and Ghost (although Ghost didn’t have food in front of him). Pleased, you trotted over to the table, tail held high.

“Hi kitty!” Soap reached one hand down, wiggling his fingers at you, clearly trying to tempt you closer. You ignored him and jumped into Gaz’s lap.

“Looks like she likes him better,” Ghost drawled.

“She has good taste,” Gaz agreed with a proud smile, offering you his fingers to sniff. You headbutted his hand before tipping your head to invite chin scratches. He obeyed easily. Such a good human, you really needed to think of an appropriate way to reward his good behavior.

Especially since he once again began offering you pieces of meat.

“Gonna spoil her,” Ghost warned, though he made no move to actually stop Gaz.

“She’s just a cat,” Gaz said with a shrug. “Besides, if she’s really a stray, she might wander off again.”

“Not likely, with how you’re feeding her.” Ghost watched as you delicately took another piece of lunch meat from Gaz.

“She’s fine.” Gaz smiled down at you. You slow-blinked up at him, warm and content.

And he let you ride around on his shoulder the rest of the day, so long as you kept your claws to yourself (which you did).

You could get used to being a shoulder cat.

You spent the next two days similarly - hunting for fun and to keep your reflexes honed, eating the bites Gaz gave you, running around base, and sleeping on his bed. If you hadn’t given up on the concept of having your very own person, you would have wanted someone like Gaz. Someone who treated you gently, and gave you room to be your own cat, and gazed at you with affection.

But it was not to be. For one thing, he thought you were a cat. For another, you knew you needed to move on soon, before you got any more attached.

You stretched in the early morning light in Gaz’s room, and then blinked. Wait. Something felt wrong about that stretch.

Your hand bumped Gaz’s shoulder and you blinked again. Hand. Not paw.

Oh fuck.

Gaz opened his eyes, still sleepy, and you froze, your own eyes wide. He blinked once.

And then yelled, startled, falling out of bed. You yelled too, because oh shit this was bad. You dove off the bed, uncaring that you were human and nude, and yanked the door open. You shifted mid-step, skittering on the slick floor for a few moments as you tried to get enough traction to run.

By now other doors were opening, people looking out in sleepy confusion. You were half-way down the corridor when you heard Gaz behind you shout, “Get that cat!”

Soap got close, attempting to straight-up tackle you. He almost managed it, except you swiped at his hand and then used him as a platform to leap off.

Your paws didn’t even hit the floor as Ghost grabbed you out of mid-air, scruffing you firmly. You yowled, as loud as you could manage, twisting and fighting like hell. At least until someone swaddled you in what smelled like a t-shirt, forcing you to stillness. When your claws poked out through the shirt, a towel was added to the mix.

Leaving you thoroughly burrito’d and helpless.

“Gaz?” Soap asked, even as he took you from Ghost. “What the fuck, mate?”

“Price’s office,” was all Gaz said, staring hard at you. You flattened your ears to your skull, growling low and threatening. It was all you could do in this position.

The three made their way to Price’s office, still sleep-rumpled but wide awake now. Price joined the group, unlocking the door and ushering everyone in.

Gaz deliberately locked the door again.

“What’s this about?” Price asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Gaz, however, was staring at you. “Change.”

You hissed a little, trying to wiggle out of your forced cocoon. You had no idea what would happen if you shifted while you were so tightly wrapped, but you didn’t think it would end well for you.

“Put her down.” Gaz flicked his gaze to Soap before focusing on you again.

Soap obeyed slowly, putting you on the couch. You immediately rolled to loosen the towel and then wiggled your way free of the layers of fabric. A quick glance around showed no way out.

This was going to be unpleasant.

You shifted back to human, wrinkling your nose at the shift in perspective. Soap swore, Price grunted and stood up straight, and Ghost pulled a gun on you. Where he’d had it, you had no idea.

“Gaz?” Price demanded, low and furious.

“Apparently, she’s not a cat.” Gaz was still staring at you, lips thin, jaw clenched. Oh he was angry. “Woke up to her like this.”

You sighed. “Shifted in my sleep,” you admitted. No point denying it now.

Price’s jaw clenched and he grabbed one of the extra chairs, pulling it over until he could sit in front of you. With the three others behind him, it was quite clear who was in charge here. “Put that on.” He nodded to the shirt still laying next to you.

You huffed but obeyed. Humans and their weirdness about nudity. Honestly. The shirt was soft at least and covered you well enough.

“Why are you here?” Price watched you carefully, but you were less concerned about him. Your gaze drifted to Gaz, taking in the tense line of his shoulders, the anger in his eyes.

“I was curious.”

“Yeah? About what, exactly?” Gaz asked, voice sharp.

You didn’t flinch, but you did look down. “This is unclaimed territory, figured I’d stick around for a few days, do some hunting. Relax. And then move on.”

“Hunting, huh?” Price leaned forward. “And who have you been contracted to hunt?”

“What?” You blinked at the non-sequitur.

“Or you could just tell us who’s paying you.” Gaz rocked forward a little on the balls of his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You blinked. Twice. “You… think I’m a spy?”

“Fits, doesn’t it?” Price tipped his head a little, restrained violence in his eyes.

“Not really.” You leaned back, drumming your fingers against your arm. “Look. We don’t like people to know we exist, that’s how we got nearly hunted to extinction before. I’m not a spy, I really was just wandering through.”

“Wandering through a top security military base. Sure.” Gaz sounded unimpressed.

“Really!” You held your hands up, palms out, at your sides. “I haven’t got a clue about anything here, except that the food is pretty good and I don’t have to fight for the territory.”

“Then why were you sticking so close to Gaz?” Price again. The two were doing pretty well at tag-team questioning you.

You shrugged, struggling to put your thoughts in order. “He smells good,” is what you settled on. At the disbelieving scoff from Soap, you shrugged again. “He never smelled… wrong. Angry.” You couldn’t help looking at him again. Sure, your sense of smell was muted as a human, but you could still smell well enough to smell the anger pouring off him now. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You expect us to believe that you chose Gaz, at random, because he smelled nice?” Price raised one eyebrow slowly, conveying exactly how foolish it sounded.

“That and he never grabbed me.” You grimaced. “Things are simpler. As a cat.”

Price leaned back in his seat slowly, considering. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested and shipped off to a lab.”

And there it was. Well. At least it came from Price and not from Gaz. You weren’t sure you’d recover if it came from Gaz. “Being turned into a scarf isn’t on my list of things to do this year.”

Soap was the first one to get it, his eyes going wide. He glanced at the others, shifting his weight. Gaz stayed perfectly still.

“Cap,” Soap murmured.

Price pushed to his feet, narrowing his eyes at you. “Do. Not. Move.” The four of them moved, stepping out of the room, although Ghost remained in the doorway, both blocking your exit and keeping his gun on you.

He was absolutely prepared to shoot you. You were absolutely prepared to be shot before they could ship you off to a lab.

Unfortunately, they spoke too quietly for you to hear much, just the murmur of their voices. Gaz still sounded angry. Maybe one day he’d forgive you.

Sighing softly, you closed your eyes for a few moments. This was a right mess, one you’d be lucky to make it out of with your life. How many had you used up by now? At least five. At least.

Here’s hoping you still had one left.

They must have reached a consensus, because they trooped back inside and shut the door again. Price sat again. This time Gaz stayed back, arms crossed over his chest.

“You have two options,” Price told you, calm, collected. “You tell us everything we want to know, or you get sent to a lab.”

“I’m not telling you where to find my family.” You narrowed your eyes at him, testing.

Price didn’t respond to that. Instead he started asking you where you’d been before. Who you knew. Who you saw. Where you stayed.

Most of it was easy to answer - you’d spent most of the last two years as a cat. You hadn’t been kidding when you said life was less complicated as a cat. Food was less of an issue when you could hunt for yourself.

The questions about how you shifted, though. Those were harder. You gave as little detail as possible, very well aware that they could hypothetically use that information to find others.

You had no idea how long you sat there answering questions. A long time. Hours. Long enough for your throat to go dry, for your stomach to complain. Both of which you firmly ignored.

Finally, though, Price nodded once. “You’re to stay with one of us until further notice. Any attempt to leave will have you shot. Any attempt to shift without permission will have you shot. Understood?”

“I understand.” You shifted your weight, part of you railing against being threatened. The rest of you was far more pragmatic and simply accepted it.

Still better than being sent to a lab.

“Good.” Price stood and fished out a pair of sweatpants, tossing them to you. “Put those on.”

You obeyed silently, though you had to roll them a few times so they didn’t trip you. Price stepped out of the office first, and you followed quietly.

The meal that followed was easily as tense as the last one you’d had at home. And silent. Nobody seemed inclined to talk, and you weren’t going to be the first. You just picked at your food, absently wishing to go back to the day prior, when you’d settled on Gaz’s lap and eaten morsels from his fingers.

Damn you were in deep. That was a problem. Especially considering you could tell he was still mad at you.

“Stay with Soap,” was all Price told you as he rose. Gaz was quick to follow his captain without a single look at you.

Ouch.

But you stayed with Soap. Because you did not want to get yourself shot just yet.

“Ye really were just gonna leave?” Soap finally asked, once the two of you were outside, walking around base. He didn’t seem inclined to hold still, something you were rather grateful for. After the stress of the morning, stretching your legs felt nice, even if it was only two legs.

“Yes.” You shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time wandering. Wasn’t planning to settle down just yet.”

He went quiet again at that, and you let him think. You had your own things to think about, after all.

#state of my head #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

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samijami · 2 months

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After accidentally running into the Pro-Israel side of Tumblr, media, and politics, I can safely say,

-They blame Hamas for the murder of children and infants in the war, creating illustrations of propaganda showing such. Ex) a drawing of a Hamas soldier with a baby stroller, holding it infront of him as he ducks behind it for cover and shoots at an Israeli soldier, who is ducking infront of another stroller as a human bodysheild to protect it.

-They justify the war by the excuse of 'war is war' or 'Hamas started it'/'Hamas are all terrorists'. And don't even elaborate or back up how that is true.

-The Israeli soldiers are 'blowing off steam' when they are shitting in their own tanks, posing with Gazan women's lingerie and mannequins, and recording videos of them actively committing war crimes.

-The murders they commit of innocent children and civilians are justified as 'Hamas caused this'/'Everyone in Palestine is a participant in terrorism or terroristic beliefs'/'Palestine could end this if they gave up the hostages'/'Palestine started it by taking the hostages and committing terroristic war crimes'. All from people who don't know what they're talking about and/or have seen very little on the entire situation.

-'The entire Pro-Palestinian movement is the most Anti-American and antisemetic thing right now and is absolutely disgusting.' -Steve Bannon, War Room: Pandemic, 2024. He worked for Trump in the Whitehouse before getting arrested, and promptly started his own republican television show (that my father watches 24/7--to put this statement into context of what this man spouts: everytime he refers to a trans person, he says 'freak'. He calls women 'females' with the most disgusting tone of voice like he is physically repulsed by the idea of them. He supports the man in the situation of a woman being the victim. He claimed to be an advocate and that he was 'actively assisting black people' because he said rude shit about a lady judge in 'defence' over a black person, and so much more).

And so much other shit, it's pathetic. The true art of indoctrination and lack of evidence shown to Israeli people and even children, is sickening. If Lilly's (and other's) self immolation wasn't enough, it's being put down as an act of a 'psychotic man having been indoctrinated by leftist media'. I'm sorry, Lilly was an active member of the US force, and she was tired of what she was seeing, and could've even potentially have been required to partake in (given Biden sent American troops to assist Israel). Her act of self immolation was as heroic as any other martyrdom act committed during the 1900's in the name of equality between races. It's a different century, but as those were viewed and put into history as heroism, so should Lilly. She died for her belief that this is a disgusting genocide.

We have all the evidence we need and these stupid childish ass soldiers taking their little happy ass videos and posing for selfies only demonises them more. If any historian looked back 20 years from now, they'll be disgusted.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! 🇵🇸

(Btw I used Lilly, she/her, since it is believed that Aaron Bushnell was apart of the LGBTQIA+ community and never came out, due to her social medias going by Lilly and presenting as a woman).

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tange-my-rine · 3 months

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Temporary Fix || Tangerine x gn!reader

Summary: You and Tangerine weren't complicated, sometimes you'd see him on the job and he'd provide you... stress relief. It was easy, so easy. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, just friends (barely acquaintances really) doing what you both needed. It wasn't like you could have someone on the job anyway. You didn't think it was anything that would change. But, he had never seen you hurt before, and when a job goes wrong, well... everything changes.

TW: friends with benefits (for now), mentioned sex (but nothing graphic), protective! Tangerine, possessive!Tangerine, violence, blood, murder, guns, gunshot wounds, mentioned death, cursing (it's Tangerine), and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: yes this is a one direction title, what about it??? also the reader's codename is 'Mouse', you work with Ladybug. Tan calls you pretty but who doesn't to be called pretty?? This is got really long, sorry !!!]]

You were pretty good at your job, your messes weren't messy and your kills were organized, clean really. (Your agency did have a cleanup crew for when things got out of hand, so your work still stayed pristine even when it did get messy.) That's how you got your code name, Mouse, because you were in and out of a location as quiet 'as a mouse'.

You're not sure when you met the twins, but you do remember it was bloody. Something about you showing up to your gig and a trail of blood led you through the building right into their presence. You'd somehow known it was the twins (kind of because of the mess) but otherwise because there was two of them -stuck like glue.

The barrel of two guns pointed at your head, and you shared your mission, and they theirs, which were actually totally unrelated. Needless to say, you got out of there with your USB drive. (Mostly because of Lemon, Tangerine wouldn't have flinched if he pulled the trigger.)

It just kept happening. Undercover missions, hits, and even work you had to travel to, somehow they ended up in the same place. Not always for the same work, you should say, but same destination. You'd originally thought it was some sort of coo, that they were trailing you but after confronting them (and Tangerine saying he didn't 'give a fuck about your whereabouts'), the idea was void.

The first time your... situation had started was one of your missions where you went undercover. Some sort of fancy charity gala, if you remember correctly, and Tangerine was there. Just Tangerine, he didn't tell you why -he hardly even wanted to speak to you.

You'd offhandedly said something about all the rich people being attractive, and how it wasn't fair. He'd promptly said, "You don't have to worry about bein' attractive, love, you're the prettiest one here."

He wasn't flirting, or you didn't think he was -he didn't even smile, or smirk, or anything- just spoke over the rim of his cup and took a long drink after. Your eyes darted to his Adam's apple for a second, you'll admit it.

Nothing else happened that night, you didn't flirt. You don't know what did it, not at all, he just kept looking at you -small little, intense, glances. Once again, you thought nothing of it.

Well, until he pulled you into a closet and kissed the literal breath out of you.

And, well, the rest is easy to figure out.

It didn't happen all the time, not every mission, but sometimes, when the adrenaline was high. You called each other when you weren't on the same mission; he'd done it after the first time, and you followed suit. It was easy, so easy.

That brings you to today, it was supposed to be a grab-and-go, easy. Except for the whole full building of people part, it was an office actually and you needed the CEO. There were so many civilians, but you were Mouse -you'd be in and out so quick, they wouldn't even see you.

Your intel was wrong.

The whole place was filled with bodyguards, and security, head-to-toe, filled. You were good at your job, but you were outnumbered -so incredibly outnumbered.

Needless to say, your disguise of an office worker didn't work.

There was blood tainting your skin, your head on a swivel -fuzzy and pounding. Your were on the third floor, hidden in a janitors closet -the smell of cleaner burnt your nose and made your eyes water.

Your chest heaving and your hands shaking, you were overwhelmed -you couldn't do this alone. God knows how many men were on the last two floors. And you were 90% sure your ribs were broken on your right side, your leg was shot, and your shoulder was shot -you couldn't move. No way you were going up the stairs. You weren't even sure you could leave the building at this point-

You were bleeding out, actually, if the wooziness in your head meant anything.

Your comm was broken on the first floor, you'd cussed and thrown it to the ground. So, even if it still worked, it was lost -long gone of the concrete floors.

You were totally and completely fucked.

Then, you felt something in your pocket, rubbing against your clothes -scratching against the fabric. It buzzed then, low and under the hollowness of your breath; you barely heard it -a pounding in your ears so loud, you think it was your heartbeat.

You breathed out, pulling your phone out with your hand that wasn't lax on the floor -your shoulder wasn't fun to move.

The text flashed across your screen, Tangerine. It was a little blurry, your head spinning but if you focused you could read it.

'You home?'

Something in you sighed, deep and broken; maybe this was the last time you'd ever speak to him. You'd kind of become fond of him, all blue eyes and broad shoulders -his accent and the way his lips would creak up when he smiled at you. You ached for something you didn't have, you realized.

What a fucking time to realize it-

You typed out a message, painstakingly, a single finger -slow and deliberate, 'No. Job. Bleeding out, hidden. Too many.'

Your head was pounding, but you pushed through it, typing, 'I'm sorry, Tan.'

Your hand loosened, laying slack on your lap -your head hurt, maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. Not long, just a second to get the pounding out of your head.

Before you could fully do it, the phone in your lap jostled vibrating -it nearly fell, clattering onto the concrete floor but you grabbed it. Not eager to be found, you could die now but you would die if they found you.

Your eyes flickered across your screen, Tangerine flashed along it, shaking in your hand; he was calling you.

Something in you made you gather the strength to swipe and answer it -maybe to hear his voice again, or to say goodbye. You weren't sure, god you were so tired.

"Mouse," his accent spilled out, pointed, "-fuckin' Mouse, can you hear me, love?"

"Hey, Tan," you croaked out -voice rough and low, still not wanting to get caught and wanting to laugh -you didn't want to die sad, "-funny hearing from you."

"Mouse," he didn't react, seemed to be moving, you could hear his footsteps -loud, loud, "-where are you?"

"On a job," you sighed out, words a little breathless and slurred, "-'Supposed to be an office building, but it wasn't. Security, so many security- Think the CEO was bigger than fucking officework-"

"Darling," he spoke softer, but still loud, direct, "-focus on my voice, yeah?"

"Okay," you hummed, more focused -you wanted to do whatever he wanted, "-I will."

"Now," he spoke, gently, and you heard a car door shut -absentmindedly, "-where are you? Can you remember?"

"On the docks," you answered, slow -trying to process the words you were saying, "-tall, so many windows... Company, it's a... glass company, I think. J-Johnson something."

Tangerine hummed low and warm, you recognized the tone -somehow you knew it, "Okay, okay, love. Good- Good job."

"Third floor," you echoed out, "-There's two more, people still in them, I didn't get far enough."

"Can you hear 'em, love?"

"Sometimes," you let out a long breath, "-I'm staying quiet, they'll kill me, Tan-"

"Relax, darling," his voice crept up to your ear, "-breathe, keep focused, yeah? Keep talkin' to me."

'Lemon, fuckin' drive faster, will you?'

"I'm in a...a janitors closet, it's dark in here, I-I can't see. Think I'm bleeding," you mumbled out -a little slurred, you weren't sure he could hear you.

"Fuck..." he sighed, swallowing something in his throat -you could tell you weren't supposed to hear it, "-Where are you hurt, love? They cut you, shoot you, what?"

"Broken ribs," your breath stuttered out -it stung, "-shot me in the shoulder and the leg, I can't fucking move."

"Right, yeah," he exhaled and you thought for a second it was shaky -something sour in his tone, "-You got any pressure on it? Can you?"

"'Can't move, Tan."

"Try for me, love," his voice shook a little, you couldn't think about it, "-Try the... Try the leg."

You did, moving the arm where your shoulder bled -it ached so heavily your head started to pound, but you pushed through. Pressing your palm hard against the skin, you hissed into the phone -eyes bleary, you think you might've been crying.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered, his voice rough, "-'So sorry, love. I know it hurts like hell, I know."

Your breath shook out through your throat, tone lighter, "'Been shot before?"

"Fuckin' yesterday," he huffed out, all angry and Tangerine, "-some bloody prick grazed my side."

You laughed, and it hurt a little, but you didn't care -not then, "'Always so angry."

"Not at you," he corrected, hardly letting your words slip out, "-Never at you, love."

The hum of the engine stopped, and you heard a distant voice -Lemon, you recognized. It was a sort of murmur to you, you couldn't hear the words. You weren't sure you wanted to.

"Mouse?" He spoke out, slow words but urgent, "-You said the third floor, right? Janitors closet?"

"'s where I'm hiding," you clarified.

"Yeah, right-" you heard the patter of his footsteps, slaps across the sidewalk -some crinkling of fabric, "-I'm on my way, okay? Goin' as fast as I fuckin' can-"

"Be careful," it slipped out of your lips, low and slurred, but you know he heard it.

A sharp inhale of his breath told you so, wordless on the other side of the line -you could only hear the slap of his footsteps, so fast.

"You..." he started, something shaking in his voice, "-You stay alive, yeah? Keep breathin'-"

"Tan-"

"No," he echoed, direct and strict, "-no, you can't die. Not now, okay? You stay fuckin' alive."

"Tan-"

He continued, not slowing down -words frantic, "'Ave so much to say, love, so much. You gotta stay alive to hear it."

"Okay," you breathed out, fighting back the slip shut of your eyes -they burned and you were so tired but you couldn't leave him, not when he was so close, "-I'll stay alive. Promise."

"Promise," he echoed like it helped him understand it -believe it.

Before you knew it, your phone went silent -echoing out into the air. You squinted at it, taking a deep breath -feeling it rack through your body. Dead. Your phone was dead.

God, you'd never hated yourself more. It was so easy to breathe when he was there on the phone, so easy to remember why you were fighting and what you were fighting for.

The silence was overwhelming, a low whimper pursing through your lips -you couldn't see anything but you could feel the blood, sticky on your hand. Something in your stomach twisted, tongue heavy in your mouth; what if you died before he got here?

You can't imagine-

"Lemon," a voice echoed outside the door, "-you deal with the upstairs, keep your eye on it. I'll check every fuckin' room on this floor-"

"Tan," Lemon spoke quieter, a crinkle of fabric, "-they'll be alright. We're 'ere, remember?"

"Right, yeah," Tangerine let out a shaking breath, "-I just..."

"I know," Lemon interrupted, voice stronger, "-I think they know too. 'Just go and fuckin' find 'em, yeah?"

"Don't even have to ask-"

And then, the footsteps grew louder. You knew the closet was close to the stairs, he'd be here soon -god, he'd be here soon. You let out a deep breath, shaking against your chest -a sob racking through your lips, it wasn't loud, not really, but it was noise.

The footsteps stopped in place, and you could hear the harbored breathing for a moment, before it echoed out into the hallway -shaky and full of hope, concern, so much, "Mouse? Mouse? Can you hear me?"

Your breath stuttered in your chest, and the sting of your lungs overwhelmed you for a moment. You breathed out, slow and trying to numb your pain, and talk. But it hurt-

"I-In here-" you breathed out and it was shaking and it was quiet, but without a doubt, the footsteps quickened, so fast you could almost not even hear it.

The door, close to you, sneaked open -light pouring out into the room, it blinded you for a moment. All you could see was the shadow of a figure, you knew it though, knew the shadow. You smelt his cologne, and you had missed it-

Without a single breath shattering out of your lungs, he was standing for a moment frozen -door lazily opened and hallway out of the corner of your eye's view.

Tangerine slunk to your side, eyes dashing across your body, the stains, the blood-

He swallowed, dryly -concerned; you could see the emotions pass through his face. Something in you wants to calm him, tell him you're okay. But you didn't actually know that.

His hair was out of place, curly and ungelled, but still wearing a suit -the blue one that matched his eyes. You like that one, you mindlessly thought.

And without a word, he began to move -shrugging off his jacket. You merely watched on, as he tugged at his sleeves -unbuttoning the cuff (it was all a little familiar actually for very different circumstances), and without hesitation, ripping the fabric off his arm.

The noise echoed through the hallway, startling you slightly. Tangerine flinched a little, frowning, before going back to the fabric.

Hands tenderly gathered at your leg, he gently replaced your hand and wordlessly tied the fabric around your calf. He paused, looking at you, voice soft and gentle.

"This is gonna hurt, love. I'm sorry in advance."

And it did. Who knew?

Your head was bleary, eyes a little hazy and teary from the pain -breaths hollowed out of your chest.

"'Should be the worst of it, love," he hummed out, before sliding a hand behind your back -carefully pulling you up, "-lean on me, okay? I 'ave to get to your shoulder."

You nodded, slowly pressing your head forward into his right shoulder -his cologne filtering through your nose, and the warmth of his body fluttering over your skin. It was comforting, so much that your eyes almost closed on instinct; heartbeat in your ears, the sensation grounded you -brought you back in your body.

Tangerine was moving, looping the fabric under your arm -carefully keeping your arm steady and in place. Fingertips gentle like he was holding the world in his hands -careful and considerate.

"Stay awake, love," he spoke, his voice rumbling into your ear, "-I know you're tired, but I need ya to keep your eyes open for me."

They fluttered open at his request, forehead pressed into his shirt -you could see the thin lines in his vest, tracing the crinkle over his shoulder. You focused on the feeling, the fabric tight around your skin, and the buzz of his skin against yours.

You'd been closer really, but this was a new kind of intimacy -something that made you pleased somewhere deep in your chest. You had always wanted this you realized, this closeness with Tangerine.

How did you not notice?

Even when he stopped, hands still, you stayed there a moment like you'd never get it back.

And maybe you wouldn't. Maybe this changed everything and Tangerine would run for the hills-

Without a word, he laid you back down -gently placing your head on the ground with an attentive hand, a bit like you were breakable. Fragile. You supposed right now you were.

His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned over you, eyes hitching on the makeshift bandages, "We 'ave to get you to the hospital, shirt can only do so much, love."

You thought of the pain in your leg, the pulse of your heartbeat when you walk, but even still, you tried to push up -get on your feet. You promised you'd stay alive.

Tangerine immediately put his hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get up," you answered, simply.

"Right, no, not happenin'," he let out a laugh in disbelief, "-you are not fuckin' walkin'.

Without another word, he stood -turning around and looking down the hall, assumedly for Lemon. When his eyes caught you could tell, something straightening in his posture with one succinct nod.

They always had their language, it was so interesting to watch sometimes. Lemon would raise an eyebrow, Tangerine would squint his eyes and they'd both not move for 20 seconds like they were communicating through looks.

Before you could think about it too hard, he spun back to you -sinking to his knees. Mumbling, "Think you're fuckin' walkin', ridiculous." No hesitation, he slipped his arms under your back and knees -careful of your calf, and stood.

In another world, you'd probably be shocked at his physical strength but lucky for you, you already knew a lot about that.

Not now, your mind hissed.

Tangerine's steps were quick but careful to not jostle you at all. At some point, you heard Lemon -frantic and loud but you couldn't make out what he said. That was your first sign. The world after that began to spin, the stairwell becoming dizzying -your eyes just wanted to shut. You were so tired.

You heard Tangerine then, you knew he was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what he was saying. You tried so hard to listen-

Then, it all went black.

The first thing was the smell of sterilization hitting your nose, it made you scrunch it up on instinct and then you heard some ruffling.

"Mx. Williams?"

You did not know who Mx. Williams was, but you still squinted open your eyes -the bright lights making your head spin for a moment. You settled across the room, nothing special, just a typical hospital bed -stiff bed, thin covers, and all.

It was a woman speaking, you realized, in scrubs with a warm smile on her face. Ah, you thought, an alias.

"Hi," she spoke softly, carefully, with a smile, "-you're in a hospital, you're safe. Do you remember anything?"

"No," you answered, unsure of the story concocted to get you here.

"You were involved in a robbery," she began, slow to introduce it, "-you had a few injuries from it but you're all fixed up now, okay?"

It was surprisingly calming, "Okay."

"Your husband," she motioned to your right side, "-brought you in."

Your eyes darted to your side -because husband?!, but they just settled on Tangerine -laid back in a chair, arms crossed and chair pulled as close to your side as he could.

Something in you softened, and you smiled.

His clothes were still ripped and stained, but it was dry now. You briefly wondered how long you'd been there, how long he'd been waiting.

"Been a rough couple of days," the nurse hummed, "-he hasn't left since you got here."

You hummed, reaching out and brushing your skin against his hand -just to feel him, know he's real. It didn't wake him up, but you weren't sure you wanted him to just yet. You wanted to enjoy this before everything went... however, it went.

"You've got a good one," the nurse hummed, scribbling on a chart -eyes lounging over the machines.

You smiled a little brighter, imagining it for a second, where he was yours, "I know."

"Alright," she spoke, pushing the clipboard back into her chest, "-your doctor will be here soon."

You nodded, eyes languidly tracing over Tangerine -his head was leaned forward now, curls hanging over. Something in you wanted to brush through them, and you would have honestly, but you couldn't really reach.

You pursed your lips, throat dry, when you spotted water on the little table by your bedside and a thing of jello maybe, probably in preparation for when you got up. Pulling it toward you, maybe a little too fast, because the plastic spoon clattered to the floor; you flinched.

"Shit," you mumbled.

It definitely wasn't loud enough to wake him, but he must've been sleeping very lightly. Sudden and brash, ready to fight something -protective, he didn't even notice you.

"Woah, hey-" you laughed a bit in disbelief, and sipping from the bottle, "-calm down, cowboy."

His eyes immediately flicked to you, blue and darting all over your face like he was taking you in. Wordlessly, he stood there frozen -almost in disbelief.

You paused, looking over him -softer, "You okay, Tan?"

"Am I fuckin... Am I okay?" He echoed out, "-Really?"

"Well, yeah," you responded, slow, "-you seem... riled up."

"Love," he spoke, softer but still so direct, breathless, "-you're in a fuckin' hospital bed. You almost died-"

"Seriously, Tan," you interrupted, you hadn't seen this side of him before, "-are you alright?"

He stood completely still, eyes flicking to yours -hair sticking up in a mess, shirt still ripped. He looked a little deranged, not the worse you'd ever seen, but... there was something in his eyes -a gleam.

You couldn't tell what it was.

"No," he finally answered.

"Are you-" you started, now suddenly darting over the blood (was some of it his?) "-Are you hurt? Did you get checked by-"

"Love," he sighed out, hands raking through his hair, "-you almost died. Do you not hear that? Fuckin' dead, gone-"

"Tan-"

"No, no, no-" he shook his hand, exasperated, in disbelief, "-if I hadn't called, you would be fuckin' dead, Mouse."

"Tangerine."

"What the hell were you bloody doin' there?" He finished succinctly, eyebrows gathered -frustrated.

"A job," you spoke, tone questioning, "-What the hell is your problem?"

"You shouldn’t have fuckin' been there," he nearly growled out, "-that's my problem."

"My intel was wrong," you exhaled, stiff -if he was angry, you would be too, "-I couldn't have known. You think I wanted to solo a whole building of security?"

You trailed off, settling back into the bed -your head was starting to hurt; this was not what you had wanted. Far fucking from it.

He sighed, a big long sigh, briefly pressing his fingers on his temples, "Look, Mouse-"

You didn't look at him, eyes trained on your hands, and the blanket spanned across your lap. You wouldn't give him the dignity of looking at him, not when he was just being a dick.

"I'm not mad at you," his voice was lower now, "-just whoever sent you on that fuckin' suicide mission."

"'Could've fooled me," you scoffed, twisting your arms into a crossed position.

Tangerine sighed again, roaming closer to your bedside and falling to his knees to meet your face better, "Mouse, love, look at me."

You kept your eyes on your hands.

"Mouse, please."

You pursed your lips, he hardly pulled out the please -this was bigger than what you thought it was. Your eyes landed succinctly on his, blue -so blue- already looking at you with something of remorse. Huh.

"I'm sorry," he started, slow with one hand reached up to run through his hair again, "-I know I'm being a fuckin' dick."

"Good guess," you hummed.

"Right, yeah," he shook his head, lips curling up at the corners, "-Look, I... Fuck, I..."

"Tangerine," you put a hand on his shoulder, he was close enough now, "-seriously, what is wrong? I've never seen you like this."

He swallowed, dryly, and you almost offered him your water -he'd been doing that a lot lately.

"You almost died," he repeated.

"Tan, we're not talking about me," you responded, "-I think we both know what happened-"

"Love," he interrupted, repeating again, "-you almost died."

You raised a brow, questioning -confused really, "What does that have to do with-"

"I wouldn't have known," he breathed out, shaky and tone the same, "-you were going to fuckin' die and I wouldn't have known, ya know 'at?"

This was new to you, Tangerine looked shaken, scared. When had he ever been so broken open in front of you, so... so desperate? It was like he cracked open his ribs and you were staring at his heart.

"Tan, I didn't mean to-"

"I would've fuckin'-" he laughed a little, and it was wet -there were tears in the corners of his eyes, "-I'd 'ave heard it through the fuckin' grapevine."

"Tan," you were too soft to stop him.

"Do you know why 'at's fucked up? Truly, do you?"

"Because we're... friends?" You asked, with a lilt -you weren't sure, and even though you felt something you couldn't push that on him. No matter how bad it hurt.

"Fuckin' friends," he laughed, looking up at the ceiling -his eyes were definitely teary, you realized.

"Why are you-"

"Darling, tell me this," he spoke, looking at you now -blue eyes intense on yours, "-do you think I would've grieved you as a fuckin' booty call or a... a friend?"

"I don't..." you spoke, "-I don't know, Tan."

"No, truly, love," he echoed, voice quiet and barely there, "-do you think I would 'ave?"

You fell silent, eyes sliding over his face -the storm of his eyes. It wasn't like a thunderstorm, not angry, just a rain -a dark, heavy rain. You wanted them to be light again, sunny.

You pursed your lips, flicking over his face -there was something different there, something smoothed across his features that you had never seen before. It was something.

"No," you answered finally.

"And you ask me, you ask me-" he started, tears built up now -he blinked them away, "-if I'm okay?"

You didn't say a word.

"You almost-" Tangerine continued, voice breaking as he tilted his head down and took a deep breath.

"Tan," you spoke, softly -something burning in the backs of your own eyes.

"You almost died in my fuckin' arms, Mouse."

"But I didn't," you echoed, "-I didn't. I'm alive, you saved me-"

And then in the tiniest voice you'd heard from him, he looked at you, teary-eyed and exhausted, "Why didn't you call me?"

"Tangerine, I-" you started, "-I didn't know if it... if you-"

"I would've picked up," he spoke, firm and decisive, something biting in his tone, "-If you were halfway across the fuckin' world, I would've found a fuckin' way."

"That's not-" you started, before sighing, "-I didn't know if it mattered to you."

"Mattered to me?" His voice echoed in disbelief, "-If you... You didn't know if your death would've mattered to me?"

"No," you answered, "-I really didn't. I thought... Well, I thought both of you would be fine-"

"Fuckin' fine?" He spilled out, "-You think I would've been fine?"

"I didn't know," you reasoned, "-it wasn't... none of it was... We never talked about it."

"God, I'm the fuckin' stupidest person on this goddamn planet," he breathed out -a mutter, but you still caught it. He was really close to you in this position, you could hear the inhale of his breaths.

"Darling," he spoke, something pent up in his eyes -ready to spill, "-I can hardly function without you. And you think- You really fuckin' think that I wouldn't have cared if you died?"

"I didn't know," you explained, "-I didn't know anything, Tan. We never- We never talked about this, it was simple, easy."

"Well, it's about to get really fuckin' complicated, isn't it?"

"What are you-" you started -confused.

"Consider this me talkin' about it, yeah?" He spoke, looking straight at you -not waiting for an answer, "-The idea of you dying makes me fuckin' sick. 'Makes my whole body feel like my heart fell out of my fuckin' chest, and left a cold, empty shell of a man. Yeah? If you died, I think I wouldn't be able to breathe anymore-"

"Tangerine-" you swallowed back tears.

He continued, "And frankly, the idea of it happenin' has kept me up at night. The idea of it happenin' and me not knowin', not even bein' there- I can't even begin to fuckin' fathom."

"Tangerine-"

"I can't be here without you," he finished, softer and quieter, "-I can hardly fuckin' leave you without it feelin' like I've left a fuckin' limb. A piece of me."

You couldn't speak, tears bubbling up your throat. He stared at you, and all you could do was stare back -eyes unwavering; you wondered distantly where his head was at.

"So, yeah," he cleared his throat -righting himself, "-I would care if you died. 'Would care a fuckin' lot."

"I didn't..." you began, tears burning your eyes -something heavy in your chest, "-I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, a little bluntly, "-you ever see me as fuckin' feelings guy? No, but even still I should've told you a long fuckin' time ago because this-"

His hand motioned to you in the bed.

"This was a fuckin'... worst-case scenario for me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered -you couldn't imagine the pain, if he... if he meant all that.

"You're sorry?" His eyes were attentive on you again, big blue and concerned, guilty, "-no, love, there's nothin' to be sorry for. I... I should've said somethin', I doubt you would've ever been in this state if I had."

"I'd-" you echoed out, "-I'd still have the same job, Tan."

"I would've gone with you," he spoke, "-or been closer... I-I would've fuckin' driven the getaway car if you'd let me."

You paused, eyes flickering over his face -that unnamed thing, you knew it now. It seemed so obvious. Every word he said bounced off your head as it echoed in your mind; he'd said so much, you could read in-between the lines for the rest of it.

"Tangerine?" You hummed.

"Yeah?" His voice was gruff, spent.

"I love you too."

He grinned then, all crow's feet and upturned lips -you'd never seen something so bright. Not from him. Maybe it wouldn't be the last one.

"Thank fuckin' god," he groaned out, "-I really don't know what I was goin' to do if you didn't."

You laughed, a little shy -this was all so new, "Well, good thing you don't have to, yeah?"

"Yeah," he finished, still smiling -his hand came to hold yours for a moment, careful even though you weren't hurt there.

Tangerine seemed thoughtful for a moment, before raising your hand to his lips, "I'm really fuckin' glad you're alright, love."

"Yeah, me too."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but the door swinging open cut it short.

"You lot done yet?" Lemon asked, head sticking in the door, "-I've been waitin' out here like 20 minutes. The nurses are startin' to look at me weird-"

Tangerine sighed from beside you, as you spoke, "Come on in, Lemon. Lovely to see you by the way."

He stepped fully in then, your eyes catching on the takeout boxes in the bags he held, "So polite, unsure why you ever liked him."

"Right," Tangerine rolled his eyes, "-Do we 'ave to start this now?"

"You see?" Lemon raised a hand, "-This is how he treats me, yeah? I bring 'im food and I'm fuckin' shot do-"

"Is there something for me?" You questioned, you had honestly never been so hungry in your life -probably your body healing and whatnot.

"'Is there something for you?' Of course, Mouse, I'm very thoughtful like 'at," Lemon smiled, "-unlike this bloke, yeah?"

"Lemon," Tangerine hissed.

"Told ya," he responded, taking a seat in one of the extra chairs on the other side of you.

"I'll fuckin' bite your head off, you know 'at? Rip you limb from limb-"

"Boys, seriously," you groaned, "-can you agree on anything?"

"You need a new handler," Lemon spoke -already eating his meal, to which Tangerine reluctantly nodded.

"Well-"

"And you're with us now," Tangerine offered up, "-anywhere you go, we go."

Lemon nodded, pointing to his brother like in solidarity, "Agreed."

"Guys, really? That's what you-"

"You know how pouty he's gonna be if you aren't?" Lemon retorted, handing Tangerine both his and your boxes -movement fluid right over you.

"I don't fuckin' pout," he murmured, opening the box and setting it on your table -before settling into his chair with his own.

"No, don't even start that shit," Lemon replied, "-you haven't said a full word to me in the last two weeks!"

"That wasn't pouting-"

"What would you call it then, sulking?"

"I'll kill you, Lemon, don't fuckin' start it-"

"Enough you two," you yelled out, not loud enough to attract any unwanted attention, but enough to shut them both up.

You sighed out a big long breath and righted yourself -grabbing a forkful on the food.

"Now," you hummed, grinning at the two of them, "-where are we off to next?"

They raised an eyebrow.

"If I'm staying with you," you repeated, "-where are we going next?"

Tangerine furrowed his brow like it was common sense, "Nowhere, love, you're healing."

"Tan-"

"Seconded," Lemon raised his hand, "-he's already got a place and everythin' might as well give it to 'im."

"When did you-"

"Not important," Tangerine clarified, before turning to his brother, "-See, how hard was that? To fuckin' support me?"

"You're one to talk, mate."

You were really gonna have to get used to this.

Then Tangerine, almost instinctively, scooted his chair forward -placing his box next to yours on the table and with the confidence of a million men, intertwined your hands.

It couldn't have been comfortable, both with the hospital bed barriers and eating with one hand, but he treated it like it was nothing at all. Like he'd do it 100 times over for you.

Okay, you thought to yourself, you could definitely get used to this.

#temporary fix #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine #tan's things

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sunnytarg · 1 year

Note

Hello dear >< what do you think of Yandere's reaction to Aegon I, Maegor, Aemond and Daemon being in love with a reader sister but she rejects them because she is in love with a lowborn man? (like a blacksmith or a soldier or a stable boy) and they catch her trying to run away from her with her lover to the free lands? <333 (Drama mode ON)

I’m gonna start referring to these 4 as the toxic four. It’s like the fantastic four, but really horny and toxic. [ Also, this took me forever to write. So hopefully you enjoy]

Tw: stalking, murder, non-con

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

His sister didn’t think twice about announcing her plans to marry and run off with some stable boy that none of her siblings have ever met. She thought that they would be happy for her. After all, ever since she had been able to read, all she could talk about was the Free Cities and getting away from Westeros. Now she had a man who adored her and promised to take her to see the places she had only dreamed of.

The only thing was: her siblings weren’t happy. Specifically her brother, Aegon. He was silent for a little while after her announcement and then after Rhaenys nudged him in the side (not so slyly), he gritted through his teeth a congratulation. He didn’t mention to his darling sister that he was planning on marrying her himself, making her his third wife. He held his tongue and didn’t comment on how a stable boy could never afford to bring her to the Free Cities. Instead, he only kissed his sister on the head and left the room. He had to think of something quickly before that stable boy took her from him forever.

The idea came to him during the evening meal. When she went to her chambers for the night he would lock her doors so she couldn’t leave and sneak away to see her stable boy. The next morning when she mentioned it, he only shrugged and pretended to have no idea why it was locked.

“Perhaps the guards locked the doors because they were afraid an intruder was within the walls,” he said with a shrug. She didn’t look like she believed him but she didn’t call him on his lie either. As the days went by he continued to lock her doors at night and eventually resorted to doing it during the day when she was in her chambers and not with him or her sisters. She had stopped questioning it and Aegon soon learned why. She was receiving letters from this man she claimed to love. He watched to see how they were delivered to his dear sister and when he saw that one of the guards was the middleman, he promptly brought him outside and let Balerion set him aflame. After that, he received the letters intended for his sister. He read every one of them and, after he was done, threw them into the fire.

He knew his sister’s heart would break thinking that the man she loved had forgotten about her but Aegon needed to do this. Luckily, his sister didn’t catch on to the fact that he was the one getting rid of the letters so when she asked him to give her letters to the stable boy, he agreed with a smile. When she was out of his sight, though, he promptly ripped the letters to shreds.

He figured it had been long enough and it was time for him to meet this other man. He was disappointed when he finally came across him. He was nothing special and he backed away in fear of his King. His sister deserved better than this wastrel. He made the conversation brief. Informing the stable boy that his sister had come to her senses and realized that she could never marry someone like him. She was to marry her brother and King and he should move on and forget about her. The stable boy only nodded meekly and Aegon had to hide the smile on his face until he turned to walk away.

Aegon kept an eye on the stable boy as days and nights passed. He watched as he married another woman, someone plain and lowborn like he was. When he informed his sister of this she wept uncontrollably and refused to believe it. He held her as she cried and offered to take her to his home to show her his new wife. His sister shook her head and refused. Aegon stroked her hair as she cried and remained with her until she fell asleep. When he finally left, he didn’t lock the doors to her chambers.

As she slept, he made the arrangements for them to wed the next day. He couldn’t put it off any longer in case she found someone else.

Maegor

Maegor is an observant man. He notices before anyone else that his sister has taken a liking to a blacksmith in the city. While it was suggested by almost everyone that he spend time with his wife, Ceryse, and try and put a child in her, he was instead watching his sister sneak away from the Red Keep. He would follow her through the hidden passageways and down to the city.

Watching her wasn’t new to him. He had been doing it for years. It only worsened after The Faith told his mother that he couldn’t take his sister as a wife. His mother had finally budged and he was married to a Hightower rather than who he belonged with. He watched as several men of noble birth tried to gain her attention. Before he could even scare them off she had already turned them down. He thought perhaps she harbored feelings for him and was bidding her time until he could get rid of Ceryse. He soon realized that wasn’t the case as he stood in the shadows and watched his sister with a blacksmith.

When he returned to the castle he didn’t tell anyone of his discovery and despite the building feeling of wanting to go into her chambers and claim her before that filthy blacksmith laid a hand on her, he bided his time and listened and watched. He acted normal when his dear sister was around and even went to his wife’s chambers at night. Still, as soon as he heard her making plans with her blacksmith to sneak away to the Free Cities when the moon was at its fullest and everyone important in the castle would be asleep, he began making plans.

He had to wait it out until he could set his plan in motion. He acted like he had no idea of his sister’s plan to run away. On the night that the moon was at its fullest, he went to the Sept. not to pray, of course, his mother taught him better than to believe in the Seven. He watched the moon through the window and waited. It wasn’t long until a few guards that were loyal to him came in carrying his sister who was shouting at them and the blacksmith who was being drugged along. Maegor smiled when he saw his bruises and bloodied face.

When his sister saw him she ran to him and begged him to command the guards to let her love go. Maegor only grabbed her arm and told her to look around. She did with a confused look. Finally realizing they were in a Sept and in front of them stood a Septon who looked terrified. She finally looked back up at her brother who told her that he knew about her plan and that he was tired of the handwringing of the Faith and their father, he would take a second wife, as was his right as a Targaryen. This time, though, it would be one of his choosing. When his sister started to protest he grabbed her chin and pointed it towards her blacksmith and told her that she either goes through with this and he would set the man free, or he would kill the man right now and fuck her in his blood so that she was dishonored, making it so she had no choice but to marry him.

With tears streaming down her face, she sniffled and told her brother that she would marry him. He smiled at her and gestured for the Septon to start. Once he had the woman he longed for as his bride he threw her over his shoulder and began to make his way to the castle. While he consummated his new marriage, his guards would know what to do. He knew that he couldn’t let that blacksmith go. His new wife would only try and find him again so as he spilled his seed in his sister's cunt, down in the sept his guards took the blacksmith outside and cut his throat.

Aemond

Aemond wasn’t surprised when he noticed his sister begin to blush over a knight from Dorne. When they were younger she had always read about knights who fell in love with princesses. Knights who married them, and despite all of the obstacles they faced they always had a happy ending. She had been watching her Dornish knight for a while now, long enough for Aemond to realize that something was going on between the two of them.

Without realizing it, Aemond had begun to secretly follow the knight. Watching what he did throughout his days and nights, hoping to find something that he could tell his dear sister about. Aemond was going to marry her. He knew this in his bones but his sister had yet to come to understand that they were fated to be together.

At their evening meal, Aemond didn’t say anything as she talked excitedly about the next tourney that was to be held for Prince Maelor’s first name day. She talked endlessly about how the knight from Dorne would surely be the champion, as he clearly was more skilled than all of the others. Their mother only smiled politely at her daughter's gushing. She knew that her daughter had feelings for the knight, it was why she had gone to Aemond the other night and asked him to let his betrothal to his sister go so she may be happy with this other man. Aemond had only told his mother that he wouldn’t and that his sister would find happiness with him.

After they finished and everyone went to their separate chambers, Aemond grabbed his dark cloak and slipped out, and found the knight that had caught his sister’s eye. He eventually found him in the gardens whispering behind some hedges. He couldn’t see who the man was talking to but he heard plans on running away before the next tourney. Of escaping to the free cities and making the woman he talked to his bride. He smiled as he listened, finally, he had something he could tell his sister that stops her childish fascination with the knight.

It was t until the knight walked away finally that he saw the woman finally emerge from the hedges. His blood began to boil when he saw that it was not some random woman, but his sister. The woman he loved and planned to marry was making plans of running away with that lowborn Dornish bastard.

He followed his sister quietly as she made her way back to her chambers. His mind was spinning as he thought of what to do. He couldn’t allow her to run off with some other man. He knew if he told her about their betrothal it would only make her move her plans up so that she would be gone before he could call her his wife. Perhaps that was why when she slipped back into her chambers, he followed her. With a surprised gasp from her, he lowered the hood of his cloak and looked at his sister. She laughed and asked him what he was doing but he couldn’t seem to make himself talk. He finally knew what he had to do to make sure the woman he loved didn’t leave.

He stalked over to her silently and proceeded to grab her. He didn’t listen as her questions turned to protests or when she started to squirm and fight in his arms as he hauled her to her bed and climbed on top of her. This was not how he planned for this to go. He had thought they would be married when he finally took her to bed and when he finally slipped his cock inside of her she would moan and gasp and beg for more, not cry and try to feebly push him off of her, but he had to do this tonight. He knew that by taking her maidenhood tonight and informing his mother of what he did tomorrow morning that she would be his wife within the week and she wouldn’t be able to leave him.

When the tourney to celebrate Prince Maelor’s name day came around he sat beside his new wife as they watched the knights come out. His wife tensed when she saw the Dornish knight appear. Aemond only smiled, knowing that they hadn’t seen each other since that knight he took his sister’s maidenhood. When the knight looked up at the box they were sitting in, Aemond reached over and grabbed his sister's hand. The knight could look at his wife all he wanted but Aemond would have filled her with his seed before they arrived at the tourney and who would bring her back to their chambers afterward instead of going to the feast, and fuck her like he had been doing nonstop for the past several days.

Daemon

Daemon notices his sister falling for one of his gold cloaks before anyone else does. He saw the man watch his sister before but thought nothing of it. After all, his sister is one of the most beautiful women in the realm.

Daemon hadn’t tried to stop anything between his sister and one of his men. While he loved his sister and planned to marry her one day, that day wasn’t today. He thought he’d let her have her little infatuation before he took her for himself. He hadn’t expected Viserys to agree to let her marry the man. He knew things about this man that neither his brother nor his sister knew. He had spent time with him in brothels as he fucked his way through whores and laughed with his men as they all found pretty commoners to wet their cocks. It was fine to Daemon when that man was just a gold cloak, working for him, but now he was married to his sister and it made him burn with fury.

He couldn’t kill the man right away. He had no problem with his inevitable death looking suspicious, but his sister would never come to him willingly if she believed him to be her husband's murderer. So instead, he watched the two. At meals, he would make his sister’s husband squirm as he brought up old stories and at night he would sneak through the passageways and watch, hidden away, as his beautiful sister moaned under her husband.

It was on a night that he had hidden away to watch as his sister got fucked that he overheard their plans. Her husband wanted to leave. He wanted to take his sister away from King’s Landing and sail to the Free Cities. It took all of Daemon’s willpower to not barge into their chambers at that moment and strangle him. His sister wasn’t going to leave him, especially not for her lowborn bastard of a husband.

After they finished talking, Daemon watched as the other man undressed and pushed his sister down to her knees. He closed his eyes and imagined it was her gagging on his cock as he fucked her throat. He didn’t touch himself, though. He had a plan that needed to be done tonight or otherwise, he’d be saying goodbye to his sister soon.

When the couple finally fell asleep, Daemon snuck into his sister’s chambers. He wasn’t worried about waking her husband. After spending so long on the City Watch with the man, Daemon knew how heavy of a sleeper he was. He stood beside the bed and looked down at his sister’s naked form. It had been several months since she had married and she was yet to be with child. He knew she didn’t drink moon tea and he wouldn’t be surprised if her husband couldn’t give her a child. The man had many mistresses and not one bastard.

Daemon pulled the sheet off of his sister slowly and snuck into the bed beside her. She rolled over unconsciously so that she was facing her husband and Daemon couldn’t help the smirk that found its way onto his face. He pumped his cock a few times before rubbing it between her folds. She hadn’t moved as he did so, still sleeping soundly. When he finally pushed into her she stirred only slightly, she mumbled her husband's name and Daemon brought his hand to cover her mouth as he began thrusting into her wet cunt. Even in her sleep Daemon felt her flutter around him and in no time he was spilling his seed inside of her. When he pulled out of her he stayed a little longer as he watched his cum ooze out of her.

He returned every night and spilled himself inside of his dear sister as she lay sleeping. After two moons of him claiming her, she announced one morning that she was with child. She was showered in congratulations and only Daemon noticed that her husband was grinding his teeth beside her. It was when she was beginning to swell with the child that he had put in her that Daemon realized that now was the time to shed her of a husband. After all, he couldn’t have his child calling someone else father. So one night as they patrolled the streets of the city together, his sister’s husband found himself in an accident.

He returned to the castle and delivered the news himself. They were patrolling like usual when they decided to separate for a time. After an hour or so some commoner came running up to him and told him that one of his gold cloaks had his throat cut while in a brothel. His dear sister was inconsolable at first but after several moons had passed and the birth of their child grew near, Daemon suggested to her that she remarry.

His suggestion earned him a slap across the face but later that night his sister came to him and apologized. She told him that she knew that he was right and that it just felt wrong to marry someone while she was pregnant with her deceased husband's child. Daemon only brought her into his arms and shushed her. When she quieted he reminded her that her husband was found in a brothel. One of which he frequented often before she had married him. He told her she would not be the one disgracing him.

When he pulled back from her, his sister looked up at him with innocent wife eyes and almost everything in Daemon told him to take her to his bed. He fought against his urges and told her that he would marry her. He would raise her child like it was his and her child would not want for a father, the same as she would not want for a husband.

A week after their conversation, they stood together as they said their marriage vows. His sister couldn’t stand for long periods of time, her stomach so swollen that it tired her easily. He tried to look happy at being newly married and not triumphant in finally getting what he coveted for so long. When he took her the night of their wedding he no longer needed to fuck her slow and gentle. He didn’t need to worry about waking her and instead he watched as her milky tits bounced with every hard thrust of his.

It was only a moon later when his sister went into her labors and after several hours he was finally let into the room to see his wife laying in bed holding a small bundle. When he walked over to her he kissed her on the forehead and looked down at the coping bundle. The little boy had a patch of silver hair and large lilac eyes blinked up at him. He smiled down at his son and kissed his wife when she suggested naming the child after him. The man, she claimed, always took care of her and looked at her son as though the child was his. He nodded his head, agreeing to the name, and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from telling her that the child she held was truly his and not her first husband's.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aegon i targaryen #aegon the conqueror #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #daemon Targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #Aegon the conqueror x reader #Aegon the conqueror x oc #maegor targaryen x reader #Maegor Targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #tw: noncon

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

Text

Breaking Headboards (Slight NSFW 18+)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: you know it's always something with these two

Synopsis: There's a first time for everything when the two of you touch down in Australia and break not only the headboard, but the bed in your hotel room

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlowx x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

As Jack was mercilessly pounding into you, you purposely wrapped your left leg around him in order for him to get even deeper as he then grabbed a hold of the headboard. The two of you had been going at it ever since you reached Australia and even on the plane ride there much to Urban’s dismay since he was awake and had heard just about everything. When he made eye contact with the two of you as you both were coming out of the bathroom, all he did was shake his head.

Jack’s curls were all over the place

Your shirt was on backwards

And when Urban had gone in there before the plane had landed, he found your bra and simply threw it at Jack when he came out and it landed on top of his head.

The two of you were going at it, every chance you got and you knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be slowing down any time soon.

Jack had now slowed his pace as he reached down to plant kisses all over your face and neck and you immediately let out a whimper.

“Are you going to hurry up and let me cum all over your dick already?” You asked as he was now moving painfully slow in and out of you.

“Hmm, with an attitude like that, I shouldn’t. I should just edge you all night and for the rest of the time that we’re here.” Jack answered you and he saw that you immediately rolled your eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. Fuck around and find out. You should know by now, everything I ever say that I’m going to do to you and for you, I do it.”

“Babyyyyyy, come onnnn.”

“Patience, baby, patience. I’ve already made you hit your peak close to ten times today, you can hold out a little longer.”

“No I can’tttt.”

“You better hold that shit until I tell you otherwise. Be a girl good for me.”

You compiled as best you could, and before you knew it, Jack’s thrusts sped up and started to get sloppier. Before you knew it, both of you had came, but you looked at Jack to see his eyes growing wide before he promptly brought you up to his chest and moving towards the end of the bed, followed by a large crashing noise.

“You okay?” Jack asked you as he looked at you and you simply nodded, but a little bit nervous.

“Uh, babe what was that?”

“Umm… we broke the headboard and the bed for that matter.”

“Oh, fuck.” You said as you turned around to assess the damage and it was bad. Really bad.

“Oh, fuck is right. Giving you this work so much that the bed couldn’t even take it.”

Both of your phones vibrated and Jack reached over to see that it was Urban.

Big Whore- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? DID YALL HEAR THAT?!

All Jack did was show you and the both of you began laughing.

“He is never going to let us live this down.”

“Between this and fucking on the plane and finding my bra? Not a chance.”

“At least I made you cum before it happened.” Jack said while shrugging his shoulders and all you did was smirk.

“Like that was going to stop you.”

“You right, we have a floor, couch, and a shower.”

“Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong baby besides the obvious?” Jack asked you while starting to play with your curls.

“We have to tell Neelam and she is going to want to murder us. We don’t have a bed to sleep in.”

“Shit. You have to do it, she’ll be less mad at you.”

“Oh fuck no, I am NOT going to be the one to tell her. She’s YOUR manager, not mine!”

“I broke it rearranging YOUR guts, did I not?” Jack asked, looking at you in disbelief.

“Jackman Thomas, you are going to go and tell her right now.”

“Nah, nah I recall you asking me to hurry up and make you cum for the 1000th time today, this is just as much your fault as it is mine.”

“I’m innocent.”

“Says who? You weren’t innocent less than twenty minutes ago with my dick in your mouth and cum sliding down your throat so make it make sense.”

You simply rolled your eyes before sighing and then came up with an idea.

“There’s truly only one way to settle this.” You said before getting a serious look on your face.

“How?”

“Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three.”

“Y/N! WHAT?!”

“BABY COME ON, I’M SLEEPY AND WE OBVIOUSLY NEED SOMEWHERE TO SLEEP! IT’S ALREADY 2 AM.”

“Fine.” Jack muttered before shaking his head at you.

“Okay, come on. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Jack did paper, as you did scissors and you immediately smirked while he groaned.

“Okay, baby come on. Next one.”

Jack did scissors as you did rock so of course you won.

“You’re seriously about to make me do the walk of shame by myself?”

“Of course not. I’m getting in the shower and watching this go down from the hallway a few steps behind you.”

“BABY!”

—

It was now close to three in the morning as you and Jack made your way three doors down to Neelam’s room and knocked. You caught sight of Urban getting off the elevator with two big bags of candy and as he looked at the two you confused, you simply went over to him, reached into the bag and stuck a piece of candy in your mouth.

“Why are you two up?” Urban asked as Neelam sleepily answered the door.

“What’s wrong? Are you two okay?”

“First off, we’re fine and umm…. Not exactly at the same time.”

“Well, what’s going on?” She asked and Urban was still standing next to you looking just as confused as she was.

“Uh… okay so how do I put this lightly? We need another room.” Jack said while dancing around the subject.

“For what? The hotel is booked. I probably wouldn’t be able to until later in the morning. Is something wrong with the room?” All you did was stifle a laugh and Jack couldn’t help but to laugh with you.

“Okay, I want to laugh too so out with it!” Urban said while growing impatient.

“You see what had happened was…. Um…. we broke the headboard and the bed.”

Neelam did a double take while Urban’s eyes went wide before he busted out laughing.

“So that answers my question. That loud ass sound I heard was the two of you. No wonder you didn’t answer my text.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“Umm broke the bed and headboard?” Jack repeated himself as he scratched the back of his neck while Urban was still steadily laughing.

Neelam found nothing funny about this and looked at the two of you like she wanted to strangle you.

“What the actual HELL am I going to do with you two? URBAN this is not funny so stop laughing. You two do know that we’re going to have to pay for that, right?”

“Well yeah… but for now… ummm.”

“But for now NOTHING. Y/N get your shit because you’re sleeping in my room and Jack you’re sleeping in Urban’s room. Never seen how two adults do not know how to keep their hands to themselves and fuck each other ever opportunity that they get. Y/N, how has your coochie not fallen off?”

“Doesn’t matter if it did, I would find a way to reattach it.” Jack said while shrugging and you just hung your head.

“HEY! WHAT IF BIG WHORE’S ROOM WAS OCCUPIED ALREADY?”

“Urban, your only date is those two big ass bags of candy in your hands. So no and who the fuck gave you that nickname anyway?” Neelam said and all Urban did was point to the two of you.

“I literally cannot with you two and some separation might do you some good. Little horny fuckers.”

“But…”

“NO Y/N! I am NOT changing my mind! Yall will probably do it all over again in another room.”

“But I wanna sleep with my husband!” You said while crossing your arms and pouting.

“AND JACK SNORES!” Urban exclaimed which earned him a smack in the back of his head by him.

“I DO NOT!”

“You did enough of that tonight already, but let me see the damage.” Neelam said and Urban quickly followed as the two of you went to show them what was left of the bed.

When all four of you entered, Urban was looking on in amazement.

“Got damn, that shit isn’t even attached to the wall anymore. Y/N, do you need some ice down there because that shit has got to be sore at this point.”

“It’s just fine, Urban.”

Neelam just shook her head as you and Jack tried not to laugh.

“I’m glad that the two of you find this funny, because I don’t. Jack go to sleep because you need to be up literally in four hours and Y/N, just…. I don’t even know. Anyways, good fucking night. Everybody go to their newly assigned rooms. Like fucking teenagers, I swear.”

“A good fucking night indeed.” Jack whispered in your ear before kissing the shell of it and all you did was laugh.

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow x you #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow fanfiction #first lady of pg

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

I’m not sure if your requests are still open, but if they are, would you be willing to do something for a faun in heat/a rut doing some sort of courtship ritual for his human mate? I’ll let you decide what he does for this ritual since I know you’ve said before you like more vague asks! (She/her for the human mate if you could?)

This story got a little dark, but is for the true yandere fans and not as sweet as I usually write ^_^ I can't believe I did two blizzard stories in a row without even realizing it until I went to pick the gif

General Plot: You bring home a drunk faun and get a bit more than you bargained for

Faun (Hawk) x female reader

Word Count: 3k

W: vague reference of murder and minor character death, spooky spells, sort of mind control? very yandere behavior sfw

“Hey…you ok?” you asked the Faun, glassy eyed, slouched on the side of the road. You picked up the open flask lying next to him and sniffed, pulling your head back as the stench of strong spirits hit your nose.

He was handsome, even in his drunken state with pretty auburn hair sticking to his forehead and a sculpted physique. He was rather large for a faun with broad shoulders and thick, powerful legs tipped with hooved feet. Curling gold horns stuck out from his head, tangled with some dead grass. He lolled a bit, before trying to get up, only to slip in the snow and land face first in the slushy mud.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” you said, frowning and glancing down the long empty road that you took to get home. He wasn’t from your village, you’d never seen him before.

“Gnnnnghhg!” he moaned, rolling over on his back and spitting out mud.

“Can you walk?” you asked, looking up at the sky, where gray clouds promising more snow accumulated overhead, “there’s a blizzard coming. You’ll die if you sleep here.”

There was no way you could lift him and you wondered if you should run back to town and get some help from an Orc, but it was already late in the day. The sun was about to go down and everything would freeze soon. You weren’t sure if he would even survive the hour walk back to town. His gold skin was already looking a little blue and you had no way to know how long he’d already been out there.

He groaned again, so you heaved his thick arm over your shoulder and tried to help him up. It took a few tries and a lot of coaxing, but you finally got him on his own two feet.

“My house isn’t far,” you told him, not that he was really paying attention, focusing on stumbling forward.

“Ssssmell sssooo gooooo,” he murmured as you arduously helped him put one foot in front of the other, his horns knocking you in the face every time he turned his head.

You didn’t normally pick up vagrants and take them home with you, but it was the middle of winter and your heart was too soft to let him freeze on the side of the road. You prayed to the goddess he wouldn’t make you regret it.

After a long, exhausting walk, you let out a relieved sigh when you reached the gate to your little cottage in the woods. It was quaint, built by your late grandfather of carefully cut, interlocking stones, keeping it nice and cozy inside.

Stuffing him through your rather small front door, you managed to get him on the couch which he promptly flattened with his weight. You sighed at the pile of splinters and fluff underneath him, but turned your attention to lighting your fireplace. Once you had a nice crackling fire going, you found a quilt big enough to almost fit over him and draped it over his prone body.

He appeared to have fallen asleep, so exhausted you quickly fed yourself with some leftover bread and cuddled up in your oversized chair under another, smaller quilt to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep.

–

Hawk woke with a start and blinked at the wooden ceiling above him. The last thing he remembered he was dancing around a bonfire with his friends, drinking and celebrating their rut. There had been pretty maidens all around and music playing, the usual type of celebration for a faun, as well as lots and lots of alcohol.

He didn’t normally overdo it, but apparently this time he had. The whole point of the celebration was to find a willing mate and he needed to be conscious to do that. He rolled over on his side to find himself in a small, warm home. He wondered if he’d found a mate after all and she’d taken him inside. Soft singing drifted to his ears from another room before you appeared holding a cup of water and some fresh bread.

“You up?” you asked with a smile, “I was worried you would sleep all day.”

Hawk blinked at you once, then twice before his own smile appeared on his face. He’d chosen a beautiful mate. He adored your pretty doe eyes looking down at him and the loose hair framing your face. The whole house smelled strongly of your sweet scent mingling with fresh bread.

He accepted the cup and bread, drinking thirstily and taking a big bite out of the thick, soft slice, smeared with strawberry jam.

“I’m (Y/N),” you told him, “I found you on the side of the road yesterday…do you remember that?”

He shook his head, chewing on a large bite. You giggled.

“That’s not surprising,” you said, “you were pretty drunk. It’s fortunate you could still walk or you might have died.”

He frowned at you and swallowed heavily.

“You weren’t at the party?” he asked and to his dismay you shook your head.

“I don’t know anything about any party,” you explained, “I just found you passed out on the side of the road, like I said.”

“Oh.” he said flatly.

That meant he hadn’t found a mate as he’d assumed. You were just a good samaritan. Still, you were quite lovely. More lovely than any of the other women he’d seen at the celebration.

“Is your husband around?” he asked, nervous to hear your answer.

At that you laughed.

“No…” you said slowly, “I don’t have a husband…”

He grinned. That was one obstacle he didn’t have to worry about, at least.

“Name’s Hawk,” he said, holding out a large hand to you.

Taking it you couldn’t help but notice how much bigger it was than yours, with long strong fingers.

“Good to meet you,” you replied cheerfully before glancing outside, “you might want to head home soon if you want to beat the storm. It’s looking pretty bad outside.”

He followed your eyes to the window where snow was being whipped around in the gradually rising wind.

“Don’t think I’ll make it home before it hits,” he murmured, considering he didn’t actually have any idea where he was, “can’t I stay here?”

He watched your face fall with concern as you thought about it, but finally, deciding you couldn’t send him out into a blizzard, you nodded. He rewarded you with a handsome smile.

Shifting on your destroyed couch, Hawk was becoming more and more aware of his rut. His skin was getting feverish and he clenched and unclenched his fists trying to stay his instincts. The longer he was alone with you, the more he was aware of the gnawing ache that was consuming him.

His eyes drifted over your form, wrapped in a simple cotton dress with fluffy socks. He needed to rut you and mate you, but mating wasn’t as simple as throwing you on your back and having his way with you. There was a ritual to complete, one that would have been done in the company of his fellow fauns if he’d stayed at the party where he should have been. Blood had to be spilled, though usually it was done all together to prevent an unnecessary slaughter. Usually they sacrificed a pig or a sheep, some farm animal that wouldn’t be missed. Here, alone in your cabin with a blizzard outside, there was no apparent sacrifice available.

His salvation came as a knock on the door. You almost didn’t hear it as the wind whipped outside, rattling the trees, but hurried to the door to see who could possibly be visiting you in these conditions.

“Hello (Y/N),” your friend Quillon chirped, beaming down at you.

His face was red and wind burned from the cold.

“What are you doing here, Quillon?” you gasped, shuffling him in out of the snow, “the weather is terrible! You shouldn’t be out.”

Before he answered, his eyes immediately shifted to the shirtless faun still sitting on what remained of your couch.

Following his eyes, you found your cheeks warming.

“Oh, this is Hawk,” you explained to the fairy, “I found him on the side of the road.”

Quillon immediately frowned, but turned his attention back to you.

“I wanted to make sure you were supplied for the blizzard,” he said.

Hawk almost growled, with every passing second he was growing more attached to you.

He’s probably trying to get “trapped” here just like me, he thought darkly, his sharp green eyes watching the way Quillon’s smile grew as he took in your little floral dress and plaited hair. He obviously liked you as more than just a friend. Well, that’s just too bad, Hawk thought to himself, she’s mine.

“I brought more firewood and some food, enough to get you through a few days,” Quillon went on, easing himself into your living room to block Hawk’s view of you.

“That’s so kind of you,” you beamed, then peeked back outside. You couldn’t see anything past all of the snow that was falling. You quickly shut the door to block out the draft.

“It looks like you made it here just in time, but I doubt you’ll make it back safely. Why don’t you stay? With my food and yours there should be enough for all three of us,” you said.

He glanced back at Hawk uncomfortably, before hurrying outside to bring in the supplies he’d brought.

When everything was inside you made Quillon take off his boots and got him settled on your chair.

“I should make us some lunch,” you decided, “I bet you both could use a warm meal.”

Hawk and Quillon feigned good will in tandem, giving you bright smiles until you left the room and their faces dropped.

“What are you doing here?” Quillon snapped, “why don’t you go back where you came from?”

Hawk looked smug.

“(Y/N) brought me here herself. I think she likes me,” he said.

Quillon snorted.

“(Y/N) has a warm heart, goddess bless her. I won’t let you take advantage of her kindness. You need to go,” he snarled back.

“Like you can do anything about it,” Hawk said.

“I’ll throw you out myself if I have to,” he growled.

Hawk’s eyes glinted.

“Maybe we should settle this outside,” he hissed, “I don’t think for a minute you could take me.”

Quillon was already putting on his boots, prepared for a fight, despite the nasty weather and wind.

“The faun and I are going to check the barn, sounds like one of the doors is rattling!” he called to you, watching Hawk warily rise to his full height.

“Be careful!” you shouted back, working on chopping up meat for stew.

Hawk laughed to himself as he followed Quillon outside. He had probably 70 pounds on him and Quillon wasn’t a small guy. Hawk’s eyes bled to red with murderous intent as they made their way through the wild wind and snow far enough away that you wouldn’t hear the fight. Of course, Hawk didn’t play fair. He didn’t wait for Quillon to square up, attacking him the moment he was out of shouting distance from your house.

Quillon did shout, but it was muffled by the high wind and trees smacking together, creating a cacophony of sound that acted as the perfect cover.

The fight ended quickly and in only a few moments, Quillon was motionless in the snow. He dragged his lifeless body into the barn, where he decided to stage the ceremony. Despite the protests of your pigs and goats, all of which could have been perfectly usable sacrifices, he cleared an area in the dirt floor and quickly used Quillon’s blood to draw the sacred sigil on the dirt floor before it got too cold to run freely. First he drew a large circle and then traced the magic symbols that would facilitate the binding. His chest puffed with pride that he’d dispatched his competitor and was going to bind you to him with his very blood.

When he was happy with it, he carried the rest of your friend into the woods to be covered in snow until spring came months later. The last thing he had to do was drag the cart Quillon had brought with him to carry supplies out of your eyesight. Once you were bound it wouldn’t matter if you saw it, but until then he needed it hidden. It was cold and tough work, cutting through the wind, but the thought of his future plans warmed his heart.

Brushing snow off of his shoulders he made his way back to your warm, cozy home.

“Everything okay?” you asked, peeking your head out of the kitchen, “where’s Quillon?”

He was a shockingly good liar, putting on an absolutely innocent face to answer you.

“He said he was going to run home for some supplies he forgot while the weather isn’t too bad, looks like the doors of your pig pen are broken,” he said with a small smile, “said he’s afraid the pigs will wander out into the snow and freeze.”

You frowned because you wouldn’t have felt comfortable traveling in the snow, but maybe Quillon was made from tougher stuff.

“Broken?” you said, “that’s impossible! Those doors are made from solid oak, my grandfather made them himself.”

He shrugged.

“You can come see for yourself if you like,” he said, hiding the wiley smile that wanted to bloom on his face.

You twisted your lip as you put on your warm coat and some heavy boots, following him through the blinding white snow to your barn. Inside, it was very dark, so you didn’t even notice when you stepped into the sacred circle he’d crafted on the floor.

“O woll teki yua hustegi end meki yua my wofi!” you heard Hawk boom into the barn, his loud, deep voice echoing off of the wall.

Turning around, confused, you suddenly felt hot all over and your skin felt like it was prickling under your jacket. Around you, the circle he’d drawn glowed gold, casting eerie shadows on Hawks face, making him appear totally unhinged with the wide smile that grew across it.

“Wha-” you started to say, but your words were caught in your throat as you were overcome with a wave of need. Your body needed his. You could feel it in your very bones.

You stood there frozen, trying to comprehend what was happening, but your consciousness was drifting away, becoming more feral. Your mind was desperately seeking Hawk’s scent and his skin against yours. You crumpled to the ground, the last bits of sense bleeding out of you.

Hawk chuckled, pleased that his spell had worked. You were his now. You could never love another, you would always be seeking him. Only his scent would smell like home to you, all others would smell rancid. Anyone else’s touch would burn. Another male’s kisses would make you nauseous. It was an ancient secret spell only the fauns knew and guarded very closely.

You whimpered on the floor forgetting all about the barn door or where Quillon went. From then on you were Hawk’s and his alone. He scooped you up in his large arms and rather obediently you pressed your head into his chest, his scent and touch like a balm for your burning skin.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he purred at you, knowing you were probably not thinking about anything at all but him. He kissed you on the head, making you mewl, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure starting from that spot and rippling outward over you. You shuddered in his arms, trying to rub yourself against him, covering yourself in his scent.

“I’m going to take good care of you, my pretty starling,” he assured you with a smug smile as he carried you through the snow back to now his home where you would start your life with your new mate.

#sfw yandere #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #monster lover #monster x reader #faun #monster x girl #monster oc #fantasy fluff

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writeshite · 2 years

Text

Smart Cookie

Summary:

“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back. “Smart cookie?” “Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”

Pairings:

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Inaccurate Laws Probably | First Meetings | Tattooed Reader (Because I Don't See Enough Of That) |

Words: 3871

Author's Note:

Guess what I started watching 😂 but like seriously, I am loving Criminal Minds, and as you can see, Spencer has become my favorite, I just wanna wrap this man in a hug or something.

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing, and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.”

- Ann Landers

Spencer’s knowledge of romance could be put together in a mountain of anecdotes and books, labeled by theme, source, and moment of discovery - sexuality, unknown source, age 15, conclusion: gay panic. Practical experience, however, could be summed into a blurb on the back of a book and promptly thrown in a fire. Friendship was something far easier; he’d come to learn it later in life - with childhood peers who took pleasure in putting him through the worst of what the American high school hierarchy had to offer - and even now, in adulthood, there were times he would think that those around him much preferred his absence over his presence.

The BAU was a lot kinder than high school was. Still, there were moments when patience would run thin, tempers may flair, or the occasional reminder that now was not the time for a tangent or a pointless anecdote or ‘do you ever shut up?’ or anything else along those lines - he didn’t mind, not like he’d used to as a child, besides, more often than not, the comments came from outside the BAU. Bystanders, police, investigators - very rarely did Spencer feel the need to squeeze himself into a neat little box and present what was deemed desirable to others, at least not until now.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.”

Change was never readily accepted by the BAU; in regards to new and retiring teammates, it was met with distaste; the change came in the form of you - a recent transfer to the team - your first case with them in Seattle, Washington. An open case, the unsub would stalk their victims and gather intel on them and their lives before attacking; victims had the murder weapons clutched in their right hand and some form of personal belonging stolen by the unsub. Trophies for his collection, his victims, all graduating students from the local university - he had access to the victim’s schedules, details of their personal lives, and used tools at the scene.

“We’ll split up,” Gideon says, “ask around the university, staff, students, and the victim’s families.”

Spencer gets paired with you, questioning the university’s Faculty of Arts, the main focus of the unsub. The Faculty of Arts focuses on creative arts, writing, philosophy, and humanities - the liberal arts - with the campus’ main library in the area. “Wow, this is fancy,” you remark. Fancy’s an understatement; the faculty entrance was grand, with a pediment and columns overhead and the university emblem on a banner at the door. With the recent deaths, fewer students had been attending classes in person; the faculty head, Professor Jody Cunningham, was an older man with dark graying at the edges, a well-trimmed beard, and smoothed clothes.

“Professor Cunningham….” you called his attention, introducing yourself, “....and this is my colleague, Dr. Reid; we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“A pleasure; thank you for coming; we’re all devastated by the news.”

“Did you know the students?” you ask.

Professor Cunningham nods, “They’d just handed in their thesis, and I’d been making my way through before, you know….” he ran a hand down his face, “now, none of my graduates or other students are coming in.”

“The murders all connect back to one of the subjects taught here; the first was arts, the second, humanities; if he’s going by alphabetical order, then the next one should be natural sciences,” Spencer describes the first two victims, their characteristics, similarities, differences, “do you know any graduate students doing the natural sciences who fit that profile?”

“Three students I can think of, though one of them’s not in the States anymore, so it can only be the other two, Jesse Hudson and Lynn Watson. Jesse’s majoring in biology, and his thesis, I believe, was on the role of the clock gene in protection against neural and retinal degeneration; not 100% caught up on what that is yet, Lynn —”

“The clock gene is a major circadian system regulator found in mammals and fruit flies, the latter of which the transcription factors - clock and cycle - combine and stimulate the transcription of the period and timeless genes. The two proteins bind together and enter the cell nucleus, where the timeless gene then begins to degrade and the liberated period gene interacts with the clock and cycle to prevent them from activating gene expression.” His explanation comes to a stop, and he’s hoping he hasn’t managed to weird you out.

You turn to him, “What happens after?”

“What?” He’s dumbfounded, “uh…well…you want to hear me speak more?”

“It’s why I’m asking,” you reply. “If that’s ok, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’d love to; I just….people usually ask me to stop talking,” he shrugs. You raise your eyebrows, and he feels giddy, beaming a little; he carries on, even after you’re finished with professor Cunningham, you don’t deter him. Head tilted to glance at him, your undivided attention. “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.”

“And you still remember it?”

He nods. “I don’t forget much,” he points to his head, “eidetic memory.”

“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back.

“Smart cookie?”

“Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”

Spencer’s a smart cookie.

He’s a smart cookie.

He’s your smart cookie.

Well, technically, he’s not, but you’re the only one that calls him that nickname, not all the time; of course, you still call him by his name, but you also call him smart cookie. He bounces on his feet when you call him that, a little grin on his face as he turns to you, “What’s got you all happy, cookie?”

“Nothing, just happy to see you too,” he responds earnestly.

“I’d hope so; otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing his order on his desk, a smile on your face; then you go to your desk, to the left of him, and across from Morgan - kick your legs up and lean back on your chair.

“What none for me?” Derek pouts.

“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, and he grins.

Morgan fakes offense, “Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”

You snort, “Doubt that’s ever going to happen again,” you tell him, “that ship has sailed.” You move your hand through the air, mimicking a wave.

“Nick?” Spencer asks.

“Morgan’s friend, we hooked up a few times, but it never went anywhere,” you reply.

“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining,” Derek added on, “Said you had quite the package.”

You throw a pen at Derek, tongue stuck out at him, “TMI Derek,” Elle voiced; she’s just arrived, her own coffee in hand, chuckling while she shakes her head.

“I’m just giving performance reviews,” Derek shrugs.

“Oh god,” you laugh.

Spencer feels a little hot under the collar, knocking his knees lightly to keep his imagination at bay - your voice by his ear, hands roaming his body before settling on his hips, his own arms around your shoulder - he shook his head a little, eyes slightly wide as he sipped the coffee.

“You alright there, cookie?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle voices.

You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”

“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.

“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.

“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.

“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” attractive, he wants to say, but that might imply something and people didn’t like it when he implied things. He’d like you to keep liking him.

“You good there, Reid?” Derek’s voice snaps him from his thoughts, and he nods, finishing off with a lesser, more implicating adjective. Attractive, there was a 50% chance you found him attractive, but he couldn’t get all that information out of a singular nickname, let alone a few interactions - you liked his rambles and tangents, that was something, right? You’d made him an origami heart - that he kept tucked away in his journals - and called it a hint.

“No facts for me today, cookie?” You’re parked just further along the street of your target - a suburban house in Atlanta, one car in the driveway, three bedrooms, and the target of your unsub - Hotch and Gideon were on the opposite end of the street, Elle, and Derek were shacked up in the house across from it. JJ and Garcia were back at base.

“Facts?”

You turn to him, “Yeah.” You tilt your head, and he feels something, the little fluttering in his stomach, his hair brushes by his cheek when he tilts his head as well, and before he can reach up to sweep it away, you beat him to it.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright….” Spencer wishes he’d stopped talking right there, that his mouth just shut or Hotch’s voice filtered through earlier before he laid down his knowledge on human touch and then proceeded to end it with the words love hormone - quite the subtle move. On the plane ride back, Reid feels every muscle in his body knot and stiffen as he goes through the interaction in the car; you’re sat beside him, dozing off with your head propped by the wall. He glances over at you every once in a while, faintly touching the side of his head you’d touched, “love hormone,” he whispers to himself.

Dr. Spencer Reid was something else; when you’d joined the BAU, it took some adjusting, your first case in Seattle was a handful, and the unsub - a student advisor - had access to his victims. He’d begun with the Faculty of Arts, and chosen graduate students from each subject, starting alphabetically; he’d only managed two before you’d caught him. You’d learned that Dr. Reid was intelligent, had an impressive memory, and “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.” And his voice was really nice.

He seemed to like the nickname smart cookie, bouncing on his feet and grinning when he responds; he does the same when you greet him either way. “What’s got you all happy?” you ask him after a coffee run.

“Nothing,” he responds, “just happy to see you too.”

“I’d hope so. Otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing the warm drink on his desk. Granted, it’s not really a coffee run; you’d only gotten him coffee, mainly for the smile on his face. You turned to your desk across from Morgan.

“What, none for me?” he pouts.

“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, who grins in response as Morgan fakes offense, mouth agape.

“Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”

“Nick?” Spencer asks.

Morgan’s friend Nick had been nice; you’d had a double date with Morgan, and one of his dates, then gone on a few more dates and spent a few nights together, but it hadn’t worked out - nothing personal, but that ship had sailed.

“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining, said you had quite the package,” you threw a pen at Derek, groaning, as Elle regretted walking into work at this moment and hearing the tail end of that conversation. Spencer goes quiet, and his eyes dart away as he sips his drink, a blush creeping along his face.

“You alright there, cookie?” you ask him, and he turns his attention back to you with a small smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle asks; she looks between you and Spencer.

You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”

“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.

“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.

“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.

“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” he doesn’t finish right away, stalling, as you assume he gathers his words. You’re not sure what he was supposed to say, but you don’t think it was “....small.” Even after, he looks deep in thought, mind wandering away from the present.

You don’t think about it much and proceed with your day; it’s a slow day at the BAU, so paperwork seems to be the main task today, though there’s not much of it, so the majority of the day is spent idling by each other’s desks. You’ve been throwing scrunched-up paper balls at each other; Spencer had started off on the discovery of paper, then its distribution globally, and was now on its more uncommon uses. “....and you could use the paper to make worthless currency.”

“Like Monopoly money?” you question.

“Probably.”

You toss back the paper, and when he catches it this time, he unfolds it and refolds it into a swan, “You can also use it to make origami, though I wouldn’t consider that an uncommon use.”

When he hands you the swan, you take another piece of paper, fold it into a heart, you drop it in his hand, “You can also use it to leave hints,” you say, and he stares down at the heart, rosy-cheeked.

Dr. Reid was also easy to fluster.

“No facts for me today, cookie?” you ask him during surveillance; the house is empty, a decoy set in place to catch the unsub, surrounded on all sides; now all you had to do was wait.

“Facts?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you turn to him, tucking his hair back, his eyes widen again, and a blush runs along his cheeks. You apologize, withdrawing your hand.

“No, it’s alright….touch builds up cooperative relationships and reinforces reciprocity, and studies show that it signifies safety and trust. Basic touch can calm cardiovascular stress and activate the body’s vagus nerve, which is involved with our compassionate response. A simple touch can trigger the release of oxytocin, the, uh, love hormone,” he pauses, “why did I say that?”

“We’ve got movement.” Hotch’s voice interjects before anything else can be said, and you’re both out of the car, guns drawn as you track up to the house. The unsub tries to run back through the back, but Morgan’s waiting for him, knocking him down before he can escape. You don’t stick around in Atlanta, exhausted; you all pile into the plane, and you’re out; you wake to Spencer tapping your shoulder.

You stretch your arms, “Thanks for waking me, cookie.”

“No problem,” he responds.

You’re out the second your head hits the pillow, and wake up uncomfortably in yesterday’s suit. The new apartment looks homier and less empty, with most of your things already set out; you toss the old clothes in the hamper and get ready - shower, teeth, breakfast, and out the door. It’s a warm morning, so you carry your jacket in your hand.

“Damn, loverboy, I didn’t know you had sleeves.” You’d bumped into Derek on the way in, and he’d been immediately drawn to the ink on your arms.

“Oh, these old things,” you quip, “they’re nothing special.”

He whistles, and you lightly smack his arm, “Oh, shut up.” Derek wasn’t the only one taken back by the tattoos; the others were either shocked or intrigued, gathering by your desk to gander at them.

“Never, ever, keep your sleeves down again,” Garcia pleads.

“I’ll try,” you chuckle.

Spencer walks in last and takes a double glance at you, “You have tattoos? Wow,” he pauses, “wow.”

The others soon dissipate, but Spencer lingers a bit, looking between you and the ink; he reaches out but then hesitates, you hold out your arm and nod, and he traces the imagery. “That's one of my favorites,” you comment on the one he’s tracing.

“It’s beautifully detailed,” he observes, “they all are.”

“Thanks, I’ve had them done over the years,” you say. He traces the lines to your fingers, and when he finishes, he moves to the other arm - he gives you facts on the origins of tattoos and asks about some of your tattoos. You get lost in your own world, carrying on with the conversation as you’re called in for a briefing.

“What about this one?”

Spencer fixates on your tattoos, tracing them over and over, eyes following his fingers as they go over the lines again, “My second tattoo, got it a few months after my first one on my birthday.”

“What was your first one?” You’re going through paperwork looking for clues and hints to lead you to the unsub, “It’s a spinal tattoo,” you tell him and his eyes widen, “I can show you if you’re curious.”

He brings a folder to his face, a nervous laugh, and he looks like he’s considering it; he shrugs a little, “Only if you want,” he murmurs.

“Oh, cookie, I could eat you up,” you reply, and he makes a sound of amusement or surprise, or maybe it’s giddiness - as he kicks his legs a bit.

“Hey Morgan, how does dating work?”

Morgan slowly lowers the paper in his hand; it lays on his desk as he leans forward and glances over at Spencer. “Come again?”

“How does dating work?” Spencer repeats, “I assume you’re the most adept at this matter, I mean, I know how it works, but I’m also not…are you alright? Your face is doing —” Spencer gestures uncertainly.

“Just….just savoring this moment, " he replies, smiling, “I know something you don’t,” he cheers.

“I don’t not know about dating, I’m aware of it from societal expectations, facets, and data, but I lack the field experience.”

“Don’t,” Morgan holds his hands up, “don’t ruin the moment,” then he’s back, a smirk on his face; he asks, “Is it loverboy?” Spencer nodded; Morgan clapped his hands, a satisfied grin on his face, “I knew it!” he whispered before returning to the matter at hand, “So,” he cleared his throat, hands together on his desk, “dating.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll start simple; what do you know about dating? Not the facts, just the practical, like have you ever been on a date?”

“No, well, there was this one time I did get asked out by this girl in my class; we decided to go to the local park, but then I overheard her tell her friends it was a prank and they were going to douse me in some concoction, so I didn’t go,” he responds, “does that count?”

Derek shakes his head, “No, it does not, and are you ok?”

“Oh, yeah, it was a long time ago,” he shrugs, “so, what do I do about —” he winds his hands in a circular motion. “Is there a set of words I should say? Are there things I’m expected to do?”

“No, no, look,” Derek replied, “just, he likes you, for you, so don’t worry, just be yourself.”

“Be myself, huh? That’s the first time someone’s said I should do that,” he remarks. “Wait, how do you know he likes me?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “He looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” he responded, “trust me, he likes you.” Spencer would like to believe Derek, and he does, but the little nagging voice in the recess of his mind, he starts wringing his hands a little and runs them along his pants to calm his nerves. “Hey,” Spencer glances up; Derek’s moved from his seat to his desk to his, leaning, “he likes you, ok?”

“How can you be sure?” Spencer purses his lips, twisting the strap of his bag, “He doesn’t deviate from how he acts when he interacts with all of us, he flirts with you just as much as he does with me, and Garcia, and Elle —”

“Why don’t you just ask him,” Derek points to the brief room; you’re currently standing by the door to it in deep conversation with Garcia. Spencer turns back and shakes his head.

“I think he’s busy; I —I’ll do it later.”

Later, in layman’s terms, really meant not ever. Preferably on his deathbed if he had to, but now that he’d asked Derek, any moment he’d look over, Derek would gesture to you, head tilted towards where you’d gone or were. Sometimes he’d mimic movements with his hand - one hand you, the other him, and they’d smoosh together into a kiss - then he’d groan, running a hand down his face when Spencer would shake his head frantically.

He’d like to avoid you and give a chance for the infatuation to die, but either he can’t bring himself to or doesn’t want to. He’s been playing the potential outcomes in his mind, he could confess, get turned down, and you’d remain friends, or he’d confess, get horribly rejected and then never see you again, or he could confess, and you could return the feelings. Considering all the options, he won’t be doing anything; he’ll just let this float away.

“You’re staring, cookie.” It’s the two of you in the kitchenette, no case, just tying up loose ends. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“A potential hypothesis,” he responds.

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Uh….I’m not sure how to put it into words,” he responds.

“Well, that’s a first,” you laugh, turning away from the kettle heating, “come on, give it a go.”

He nervously rubs his hands together, “Actually….it might be easier if I–I demonstrated it.”

“In the kitchen?” You ask, and he nods, asking you to close your eyes; you raise an eyebrow.

“Just trust me,” he begs, “....please.”

You do so, and there’s a split second where you can hear him mutter to himself - you can do this, come on - there’s a soft push against your lips, and it takes you a moment to realize he’d kissed you, holding your wrist to balance and ground himself, and then it’s gone. Your eyes open, and Spencer’s pursing his lips, hands wrangling more intensely, “R–results?” He’s not just asking; he’s hoping, the subtle worry underneath his voice as he waits for an answer.

You take one of his hands and reel him back in with a slight tug, and he looks so terrified as if bracing himself for the worst, so you kiss him, hoping it displaces any of his fears - Spencer clings to you, even after, your bodies are flush as he hides away in your arms; drawing back every once in a while to look at you, before shying away, a frivolous laugh caught in his throat.

“Good?” You inquire, and he nods.

“Very good.”

End Note:

I apologize profusely for using the word cookie as a nickname for Spencer, but I named the fic and got committed so you get to suffer with me. Stay Hydrated.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #i spent an hour looking through quotes because big brain said 'start off fic with quote that foreshadows what you're gonna write about'#tattooed!reader #smart cookie universe :)

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kusuguricafe · 7 months

Text

Tickletober 2023 Week 3 (BNHA)

@otomiya-tickles your wish is my command 💖

A/N: Fair warning—this one's a little unhinged 😵‍💫

Summary: Izuku's emotions get the better of him and, unfortunately, Katsuki gets caught in the crossfire

Characters: lee!Bakugou, ler!Deku

Izuku didn’t know how it happened. One minute he was lost in thought, minding his own business, and the next he was sat with a livid, ensnared Katsuki Katsuki, The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, dangling only a few inches in front of him.

Katsuki had stepped into the common room to get a snack when he noticed Izuku sitting on one of the couches, clearly zoned out. I’ll leave him be, Katsuki thought. That was until four spidery black-green tendrils burst forth from the green haired boy, rapidly approaching Katsuki. They snatched each of his limbs and he was promptly flung over to that same couch.

“...Deku.” Katsuki growled, glaring at Izuku upside down.

“Ah! Kacchan!? How did you get here-oh. Oh.”

“Care to explain?”

How could he let Blackwhip get out of control again!? He hadn’t even noticed Kacchan walk into the common room. Though he had been thinking about him, thinking about his muscular physique, how he wanted to put his hands all over him and—

“Deku! Earth to Deku!”

“AH! S-sorry, Kacchan. Um, I-I really don’t know how this happened. Honest! I didn’t even know you were here!”

“Whatever, just let me go already.”

“Right, yes of course.”

He tried. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go.

“Uhh… About that…”

“Don’t tell me.”

“...”

“You don’t know how to release me?”

Izuku nodded, horrified.

“Alright then. Brace yourself.”

Hands tied behind his back, Katsuki set off some small explosions. It was no use.

“You could have at least picked a less humiliating position, you know!” Katsuki exclaimed. “What is this, some kind of shibari!?”

Katsuki hung like a chandelier, his wrists and ankles bound together while the rest of his body dangled freely.

“I-I-I don’t know! I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear! I wasn’t trying to do anything!”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“...What were you thinking about before this happened?” Katsuki asked.

“Uh, w-well I, uhm…”

“Spit it out!”

“I don’t think you want to know!”

“I do if it’s the only way to get me out of this damn thing!”

Deku groaned. Why this, of all things?

“I was thinking about… you…”

“And?”

“Touch—”

“Touching me!?”

“No no, not like that!!” A bright blush spread across Izuku’s face. “I was thinking about t-t-tickling you.” Izuku avoided Katsuki’s burning gaze.

“...Are you serious?”

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. The two boys stayed silent for a moment.

“If… If that’s really the only way, then,” Katsuki started, “Can you at least take us to your room first? If anyone else sees me like this, you’re dead.”

“Right.”

Izuku cautiously stood up. Katsuki was brought up with him. Izuku almost wanted to laugh now, having calmed down after realizing Kacchan truly had no say in this. He checked to see if there was anyone in the hallway before racing as fast as he could back to his dorm. Katsuki lightly bounced up and down with every step Izuku took as he trailed behind him.

Thankfully, Izuku managed to evade everyone else on his way back. He quickly shut the door behind them and brought Katsuki over to his bed. He attempted to set him down onto it, but Katsuki ended up hovering a few inches above it instead. Izuku sighed and sat on the bed himself, facing Kacchan once again.

“Just know I’m going to get you back for this, tenfold.”

“I know.”

Katsuki tugged at his binds, testing his mobility. “Little help here?”

Unable to get a handle on his quirk, Izuku unintentionally shifted Katsuki into a classic shibari pose, his wrists and ankles now bound together behind his back. A few more tendrils burst out of Izuku against his will, securing Katsuki further still. They wrapped around Katsuki’s body in a flattering way, accentuating his form.

“Not helping!”

“Agh, I’m sorry, I can’t control it!” Izuku whined.

“Fine! Just, get on with it!”

The tendrils appeared to tighten as Izuku’s nervousness increased. Katsuki noticed this and, not wanting to prolong the situation, said, “Breathe, nerd. You're stressing your quirk out, or some shit.”

“Oh! I-I think you’re right.”

What a fascinating development, Izuku thought. Seems like I really have to go through with this in order to regain control of Blackwhip. It’s not like Izuku had never tickled Katsuki before. They used to have tickle fights all the time as kids. Being insanely ticklish, Izuku always lost. He had never gotten a real chance to test Katsuki’s limits before…

With no other choice, Izuku reached forward and placed his trembling hands on Kacchan’s waist. Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut. Blackwhip buzzed with anticipation. Izuku focused, squeezing up and down Katsuki’s sides experimentally. Katsuki inhaled sharply. Izuku moved towards Katsuki’s abs and, feeling a little more brave, dug all ten fingers in.

“Hrmph!”

Izuku could feel his nerves dying down. “Come on, Kacchan!” If we have to do this, we might as well enjoy it. “Laugh for me!”

“O-over my dead bohody!”

Izuku could feel a carnal desire festering inside of him. I must want this really badly if Blackwhip is spiraling this wildly out of control, he thought. And if this is my one chance to tickle Kacchan to pieces… I’m going to take that chance.

Blackwhip, heeding Izuku’s call from within, sprouted several more luminescent tendrils. Izuku and his new tendrils surged forward. Izuku vibrated his fingers into Kacchan’s rib cage, searching for every little sensitive spot he could remember. Two of the tendrils snaked around each of Katsuki’s legs, wriggling up his pants and tickling his knees and thighs. Two more snuck up his shirt into his armpits. Another two found his ears. The final four targeted his feet: two brushed his arches while the other two slithered in between his toes.

“BAHAHAHAHA FUHUHAHAHAHAHAHA- WHAHAHAHAHAHAT AHAHAHARE YOU- AHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOAHAHAHA!”

Oh, he couldn’t handle it. Katsuki had never felt anything like this before. It was maddening, yet somehow… kind of addicting.

“IT FEELS SO WEHEHEIRD! G-GEHET YOUR DAMN QUIRK UNDER CONTROHOHAHAHAHA!”

Izuku’s eyes were glowing green. He had an indescribable look on his face—some mixture of elation and determination. He continued to explore Kacchan’s rib cage, trying to find that one spot just above his upper ribs below his arm-

GAHAHAAAAA! DEHEHEHEHEHEKU! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

Bingo. Katsuki shook his head, it being the only body part he could really move. Blackwhip was still going at its respective targets as Izuku continued to massage those two little spots below Kacchan’s armpits. Katsuki felt as if his mind was turning to mush.

Izuku had never seen Katsuki like this before. He was in some kind of trance, enraptured by Katsuki’s raucous laughter and trembling form. He was enjoying this a little too much.

“P-PLEHEHEHEHEAAAHAHA! STAHAHAHAA!”

Katsuki couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like every single nerve on his body was tingling. He’d never felt this ticklish in his life. How was this even possible!? His position, the mixture of sensations, the look on Deku’s face… It was all too much. He had to do something, anything, to get out of this, but he could barely think. Is this what Deku felt like when he begged for mercy—oh!

“DEHEHEHEHEKU! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHALL MIHAHAHAHIGHT!!”

Their childhood safeword.

“Eeh? Ah!”

Izuku stopped and pulled back immediately after he processed what he had heard. Blackwhip fully retracted seconds later, depositing a dumbfounded Katsuki onto the mattress below.

“Oh, thahank Gohohod…”

“Oh my gosh, Kacchan, are you okay? What happened? I totally blanked out there!”

“I am… I am going to kill you. COME HERE, YOU BASTARD!!!”

“WAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! K-KACCHAHAHAHAHAN!?”

Katsuki tackled Izuku, grabbing his flanks and crackling harmless little explosions all over his waist, hips, and thighs.

“You’re not the only one who can use his quirk for tickle torture! How do you like it, huh!?”

“AHAHAHAHAHAI’M SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY!!”

“Stupid nerd…” Katsuki said to himself, fondly. “You’ll be real sorry by the time I’m done with you!”

#tickling #intense tickling #tickle fic #tickletober #tickletober2023 #katsuki bakugou #lee!bakugou #izuku midoriya #deku #ler!midoriya #ler!deku #bakudeku #blackwhip #bnha #princess scrawlings #request

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