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turtletaubwrites · 1 year ago

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Numbers Game ~ Chapter 28

Just Daydreams Now

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 6.9k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You spend the morning with Uncle Cedrick while Buggy listens in. The rest of your lovers aren't used to feeling helpless.

Author's Note: Hi! I've been nervous to give more backstory since we're all here for our big baddies, but I hope you enjoy learning a bit more about our Numbers Girl!

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Grief, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Anal, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Face Slapping/Hitting, Relationship Drama, Scratching, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

It’s cold.

The cold turned cruel the moment you woke, remembering why there were no warm bodies surrounding you.

That wasn’t real. Just pretend.

Back to your boring life.

“Good morning, Miss Sylvad,” an unpleasantly cheerful servant greeted you. They'd barged into your quarters after a single, patronizing knock, proceeding to hang a few dresses on the coat rack, fluffing the skirts before eyeing your hair. “Your uncle has requested your presence at breakfast, so I have prepared–”

“I can dress myself.”

Their eyes widened for just a split second, so very good at their job.

Can't manage rich pieces of shit like me if you remind us that you're a real fucking person.

“Of course, Miss Sylvad, but if I may–”

“You can report that I refused your assistance. I’m sure you’ll have someone waiting in the hall to show me where to go?”

“Yes, Miss Sylvad,” they nodded, brows creasing just enough for you to know they had a thought, but not enough to know what kind. You stared at the door when they left you alone, and almost screamed for them to return, just to have something else to focus on besides the empty bed. Heat climbed up your throat, but the thought of crying more tears after how many you’d drained last night made you want to stop breathing.

The thought of Uncle Cedrick seeing you cry was enough to pull you in, emptiness radiating from you like twisted heat.

That silver chain seemed to pull at your restless fingers, and you couldn’t decide if it made you more or less likely to cry if you carried it with you.

You carried it with you.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

“The locket,” Crocodile breathed, his soothing hand halting its movement down Buggy’s legs.

“You can hear her,” Mihawk praised. His voice was unbelieving, almost reverent.

“Buggy, you’re brilliant,” Shanks laughed, leaning in to kiss his clown.

“SHUT UP!!”

The clown’s three lovers jolted at his yell, watching his face crumple while he curled in on himself.

“I need to listen,” Buggy muttered as he shoved a finger in his remaining ear. “Gotta make her stop crying. Gotta stop…”

Looks were shared between his old enemies, their gentle hands unable to stop the flow of tears that stained that colorful face.

~~~

“Buggy, you need to sleep,” Shanks pleaded, pulling him back against his chest. The three men curled around him on that giant bed, yet no word or touch seemed to calm their clown. Shanks held his lover from behind, wishing that he could wrap around him completely, protect him from all this pain.

“Have to listen,” Buggy almost whined, exhaustion dripping from him.

Mihawk was afraid to reach out, as though his toxic touch could somehow sever that precious connection, somehow tear her from Buggy, yet again. He faced the clown as they laid on that glorious bed, this man that he’d ridiculed, tortured, abused…

I don’t deserve–

Crocodile disrupted Mihawk’s self pitying thoughts, reaching around his body to touch Buggy’s face, brushing that pretty, blue hair aside.

“We’re here, Buggy. We’ll help you. We’ll get her back.”

“She needs you to sleep now, baby,” Shanks whispered along Buggy’s ear.

“Thank you for helping her,” Mihawk choked, that broken sound bringing the clown back to the room for a moment.

He found golden eyes struggling to meet his gaze, and silver eyes staring as Crocodile hugged the quivering swordsman from behind.

“I can’t help her. I can’t do anything,” Buggy rasped, his mouth dry as too many hands reached for him again.

“You’re going to save her, Buggy,” Mihawk vowed, tracing fingers along his face, through tears and faded paint. “We’re going to help you. You have my word.”

Y/N’s sobs had slowed and quieted by now, fitful breathing letting him know that she was moving toward sleep.

All alone. She’s…

Mihawk’s dangerous fingers trailed over his lips, those deadly eyes wider and softer than he’d thought possible.

“Thank you, Buggy.”

This wasn’t the sort of kiss Buggy was used to, at least not from anyone besides Shanks and his star.

It was just a kiss.

Just a bare touch of lips that asked nothing of him. The swordsman kissed him, then cuddled against his chest, his scent and warmth finally slowing the clown’s breathing.

Buggy fell asleep to the sound of her beating heart, while laying in this bed that felt empty, even with the four bodies upon it.

I’m listening, star. I’m listening…

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Gods, he could listen to himself talk all fucking day.

It seemed that Uncle Cedrick had called you in just to spout nothingness, blabbing about his recent deals, and “charity” ventures that were nothing more than ego boosts and tax write offs.

Kill me now.

“What was that, niece?”

An exhausted laugh escaped your lips, and you had to fight yourself not to give in to your useless desires to insult, to scream, to hurt.

Now that he wasn’t restricted by the Cross Guild’s security regulations, Uncle had his personal guards trailing him everywhere, even on his own ship.

Pathetic.

“I do hope that your time as a hostage to pirates wasn’t traumatic enough to make you lose your sense of propriety.”

“Is that the party line, Uncle,” you sniffed, forcing another bite down. You wouldn’t let yourself be any weaker than you were, no matter how ashy the expensive food tasted. “Should I prepare a statement? Practice my crocodile tears?”

“Very funny,” he frowned, setting down his silverware to give you his full, disparaging attention. “Luckily, the people aware of your recent hobbies have a vested interest in keeping that knowledge close to the chest. But yes, if anyone asks, you were kidnapped by the clown, and held for ransom. I, of course, found and rescued you before they could– Well, that leads to our other concern…”

“And what would that be, uncle,” you scowled while you pictured all of the ways your daydreams could have killed him.

The smile that tugged at his sneering lips almost had you spilling what little breakfast you’d managed to eat.

“You did say you were ready, Y/N,” he gloated, dabbing nothing from his face with his embroidered napkin. “It’s time for you to get married.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy woke in a panic, already hearing Y/N’s voice. Her annoyance at some stranger wanting to dress her made him want to flay that person alive. The clown ignored everyone, everything in his path, until he tore through the old suite he’d shared with her.

His star had barely brought a thing with her when she joined him. Lingerie and birth control, some expensive, but mismatched clothes, and of course, her notebooks, pens, and an old calculator.

Why didn’t I see you were running from something, baby? I’m so–

“How is–”

“SHUT UP!”

Three, dangerous men hovered by the door like strays begging for scraps. The clown would have laughed at that pathetic picture if it hadn’t shown just how fucking helpless they were to save her right now.

“She’s talking to Uncle AssHat. Close the fucking door,” he ordered, cracking open one of her empty notebooks to feel like he was doing any fucking thing to help her. Her pretty pen scratched away at the page. Something about party lines, kidnapping, and…

“It’s time for you to get married.”

The fuck?!

“Don’t worry, niece,” that fucking sleezeball continued, “it’ll still be your choice. Your mother will be thrilled to help you prepare to meet your suitors. It’s been too long since you’ve taken this seriously.”

“No. Nononono, star! This is stupid,” Buggy whispered, dropping her pen as his fingers tapped along his thighs.

“My choice,” she said with a dark laugh, clearing her throat to clear it away. “When does the parade of boredom begin?”

Pride for her attitude was sunk by the realization that she hadn’t argued, hadn’t resisted with anything more than her snark.

“Come now, Y/N, not everyone can be as interesting as the mass murderers you’ve been bedding down with lately.”

Buggy held his hand over his mouth, the angry beat of her heart sending sick fear straight through him. Sweat poured through the muted paint he hadn’t removed the night before.

“You have put us in quite the predicament, niece,” Cedrick paused, and Buggy couldn’t hear past that frantic beat to know what else might be happening in the room. “When all you were doing was playing at being poor, I didn’t see the harm in letting you wait. Now that you’ve shown the outlandish, dangerous situations you’ll put yourself in, I can’t risk you destroying the family’s reputation.”

Why aren’t you saying anything, baby? Your heart…

“We'll have to wait at least a month, I’d say. Can’t allow people to question where any new little heirs might have come from. Although, if anything pops out with a fucking clown nose, we’ll just have to send it–”

“Fuck you.”

Buggy had stopped breathing, trying to wake himself the fuck up from this piece of shit dream.

“You can’t expect me to have any sympathy for those freaks. Not when you didn’t even trust them yourself,” Sylvad laughed, smug and shitty. “I watched you lie to them, niece. Don’t pretend they were anything real to you. Just a little adventure for an attention-seeking–”

“Shut up,” Y/N seethed, though it was too quiet.

Star…

“You never trusted those criminals, not for a second,” AssHat kept gloating. Buggy was about to explode with the need to stab this man in the fucking throat. “Don’t lie to yourself. You didn’t tell them the truth, because you know exactly what they would do to you if they found out.”

Her heart was too much, it didn’t sound right.

This couldn’t be right.

“Arbo Sylvad’s little heiress only inherits her daddy’s wealth when she gets married,” Sylvad mocked, each new word like rotten food forced down Buggy’s throat. “And her lucky spouse gets their own hefty chunk of the company as soon as the vows are sealed. Which one of your pirate lovers do you think would have won the fight? I bet the swordsman would have–”

“You won,” his star growled, the sound forced as though her teeth were clenched. “I’m here, so why don’t you shut the fuck up already?”

“Don’t be so tense,” that asshole chuckled, voice a bit louder as though he’d leaned toward her. “You’ll have over a month until the wedding to pick your favorite suitor. You should be grateful, Y/N. It’s a lot more generous than I should be, given the damage you could have caused.”

“Fine.”

Buggy had forgotten that he existed. His head was in his hands, his eyes wide and dry while he gaped at the floor. Pieces of his body were scattered, but he couldn’t fucking feel a thing.

“I’m certain we’ll find a suitor that you’ll be content with,” her uncle needled, that saccharine voice making the clown gag. “Besides, something good came from this little tantrum of yours. Now that I know my pretty niece prefers men my age, I’ll be setting you up with some friends of mine. They’ve been asking about you for years. I’m sure that at least one of them will let you call them da–”

Her heart.

Her rage.

A crash of noise shook the clown to his core. Y/N’s yells, broken glass, and “soothing” voices, did nothing to drown out that fucker’s smug laughter.

All Buggy could do was try not to die.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

Helpless.

Sir Crocodile.

Dracule Mihawk.

Red Haired Shanks.

Each of them was helpless, useless, pathetic.

They couldn’t help Y/N, and now they couldn’t help their clown, the only one of them that had held themselves together for her.

Crocodile huffed a laugh at the thought while he lit a cigar. Breakfast was a discarded concept as these three, powerful pirates moped in the lounge.

“We have an in,” Shanks soothed the air, since no words could be soothing to the two men on the too empty couch.

“Yes, astounding work retrieving a business card,” Mihawk snarked, his head leaning back against the couch while he clenched his eyes shut, fighting the urge for violence. “I wasn’t aware that you had such impressive networking skills. I would have—“

“Don’t be a brat,” Crocodile purred, drawing the other men’s eyes to his. “We can let out steam later. Right now—“

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Shanks stared.

And stared.

“You alright, Red Hair?”

Crocodile frowned at his enemy, letting it go. Letting it go for the two men he wanted to see happy again.

Letting it go for the sweet girl that just might need this man’s help.

Well, he tried to let it go…

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Shanks shook himself, absolutely fucking bewildered by everything he’d witnessed since he stepped foot on this island. “Buggy’s right, though. We can’t go until we know she’ll want us to. It’s up to Buggy.”

“Can we at least plan out all the pretty ways we can end that Mr. Sylvad,” Mihawk sighed as he turned, stretching his legs across the couch, and over Crocodile’s lap.

“I’m partial to gutting,” Crocodile gave the swordsman a tiny smile, laying that large hand onto those leather clad legs.

Shanks frowned at the green couch, and at the men flirting over the topics of torture and death.

“I’ve got a headache,” he groaned, covering his eyes.

“There’s more scotch on the bar,” Crocodile jerked his head, ignoring the rest of the trashed room. “I’ll take a glass.”

The red haired pirate laughed, pouring peaty glasses all around.

“Good morning.”

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Why are you so quiet, star?

Her heart got slower as that shithead’s laughter faded into the distance. Too many, “right this way, Miss Sylvad’s,” made him feel spun around, until a door shut, and quiet took over.

“Fucking stupid,” Y/N berated herself, quiet thuds making Buggy cringe, the sound as though she’d hit the meat of her thighs before falling to her knees.

Baby, let me help you…

Sick laughter bubbled up, just enough to freeze the blood in his veins, though she choked it down fast. Near silent whispers left her lips in a panicked slur, and Buggy curled in on himself, too weak for this torture.

“Don’t show it. Don’t let him see. Just daydreams now, just daydreams. Daydreams are good. Just…”

Her body drifted further and further away with each moment on that asshole’s ship, yet Buggy felt like they were inches apart, crumpled on the floor while broken sounds left both of their throats.

“Why didn’t you trust me, star,” the clown cried, reaching for her, finding nothing. “Why did you leave me?”

“Buggy…”

His eyes flew open, forgetting that she wasn’t here, that she couldn’t hear him when she whispered his name. He listened while his pretty star sobbed, until her breathing stopped being human.

~~~

Buggy had to be in a fucking nightmare. Nothing made any fucking sense anymore.

He snatched the notebook and pen, racing to the lounge with a finger in his ear to keep track of her soft, wounded noises. He charged into the room, his upper body floating close enough to smell the foul stench of Crocodile’s scotch, like a noxious cloud over the too relaxed men.

Crocodile gazed at Mihawk, rubbing along his calves and feet where the swordsman had laid them in his lap, his extravagant boots tossed to the side of the couch.

Shanks was on the floor, leaning against the couch in front of the swordsman, sighing while dangerous fingers played in his hair.

“Buggy,” Mihawk breathed, looking genuinely pleased to see him.

“What the FUCK are you idiots doing?”

“Waiting for you, little clown,” Crocodile rasped, patting the back of the couch between him and the swordsman.

“Did you hear something, Buggy,” Shanks breathed, sitting forward to reach his hand out. Soft, brown eyes scanned the clown too deep.

Buggy’s need to scream at someone fizzled out, the looks on their faces reminding him that he wasn’t the only one that wanted to save her.

“She’s gonna get married.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“I love you, Y/N,” your first love purred, kissing his way up your neck until he smiled down at you.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, just tasted your frozen lips, bringing his hands back down your body until you sighed.

“Don’t tease—“

“I’m not teasing,” he vowed, trapping you in his joyful gaze. “I love you! I’ve loved you for ages, you big nerd!”

“Hey,” you laughed, skin going hot while you tried to cover your face. He wouldn’t let you, lips pressing against every bit of burning skin he could reach while you squirmed.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N. Your uncle’s stuffy mansion, your tiny, shitty dorm room, we can even run away and change our names. Just as long as it’s you and me…”

“Really,” you asked, not meaning to sound so lost.

“Really,” he promised, stealing your heart. “Do you love me too?”

“I do,” you breathed, tearing your chest wide open for him. “I love you.”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

I’m fine.

It was easier to lie to yourself when you remembered your new personal guards outside the door.

More like prison guards. My other cage was prettier.

Biting down on your fist, you fought to silence anymore laughter that could mark you as wrong. You needed to get your shit together now. You couldn’t fall apart like you had at breakfast. Couldn’t let him push you…

“I’ll just turn it all off. Shut it all down.”

Sighing at the pathetic words you hadn’t meant to say out loud, you fought to remember how you used to live.

Breathe, slow and steady. Remember that nothing matters, so it shouldn’t bother you. Just focus on numbers. Counting, multiplying, dividing, making up random problems to solve in your head all day.

I’ve got this. I’m fine.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

“What did you say,” Mihawk growled, the rumble of death in his voice.

Buggy’s body pulled together before this ragged group of pirates that had just looked as pathetic as humanly possible for such powerful men.

Until he’d said those words.

Now there was a thrum of violence that seemed to steal the oxygen from the air.

Doubt filled the clown, those vicious eyes freezing him, trapping him with decisions that all felt wrong.

The red haired pirate sat up enough to grab Buggy’s hand, guiding the man to sit on the ground with him, to stare up at those towering villains on the couch. Shanks wanted to move him when he saw the view, but his clown was shaking, so he just held on as much as he would let him.

“What did you hear,” Crocodile rasped, stretching out his fingers, fighting not to clench them, to tear them through the world to get to her.

“I’ll kill you,” Buggy threatened, brushing off Shanks’ concerned grip. “If you hurt her, I won’t give a fuck. I’ll blow myself up to take both of you with me.”

Mihawk stared into those crystal eyes, seeing that same look that had been there all this time. He had laughed at it, punished it, until he was finally grateful for it. Buggy’s bravery, and his love for Y/N never wavered, even when they had smeared his blood across the floor.

“If I ever hurt her again, I will gladly let you kill me.”

Statues carved to gaze at each other, the swordsman and the clown might have remained there forever, if Crocodile hadn’t leaned close.

“I don’t care what you heard, Buggy,” he assured, remembering her laughing in his clown's arms. “I’ll never be able to make up for what I did to you both, but I’m gonna start by getting our girl back, safe. No matter what.”

Crocodile offered his hand, meeting Shanks’ gaze over Buggy’s shoulder.

“You were right about me, Red Hair,” he confessed, his shoulders relaxing when Mihawk’s hand joined his. “I’m a monster, and I can’t change what… I’m never gonna hurt Y/N, or Buggy, or Mihawk again. I know it’s not–”

“That’s a lot of words for ‘help me,” Shanks teased lightly, tilting around Buggy so he could join Mihawk in touching the larger man’s hand. He apologized quickly, soothing Crocodile’s weak huff. “Turns out I’m not the best person either, but I’m here. I’ll do anything I can to bring her back.”

“I swear it,” Mihawk breathed, imploring the clown to let them in. “I don’t deserve her, but you do. I’ll–”

“How much fucking scotch did you guys drink,” Buggy scolded, his nervous laughter lightening the mood, but not the tension. Those three hands still waited, three sets of eyes on his skin.

Three, old enemies that could betray him, could hurt her, could take her.

Three lovers that had been saying such wonderful things.

“I will blow us all–”

“I know you will, little clown," Crocodile praised, his face softening even further when that gloved hand finally touched his.

Don’t turn it all off, baby. We’re gonna get you out of there.

Buggy felt like a fucking idiot, but he couldn’t stop this feeling.

Hope.

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

It was getting a little late, but you weren’t bothered at all. You waited, enjoying your cheap cocktail, and the cheesy grin that you couldn’t keep off of your face.

I love him. He loves me.

Brand new words. Words that you hadn’t expected to find. At least, you weren’t supposed to, not unless the person who said them was on a certain list.

You didn’t give a fuck about any of that while you swirled your colorful straw, letting yourself feel it all.

“Hello, niece. Aren’t you looking adorable this evening?”

“Why are you here,” you spat while your eyes scanned the restaurant, hoping that your boyfriend would be late enough to miss meeting Uncle Cedrick.

“Are you looking for your date,” he chuckled, picking up your drink just to sniff and scowl at it. “I’m afraid he was in a bit of a hurry, and didn’t find the time to write a goodbye note for you. Something about an internship with Galley-La… I did save his signature though.”

Denial paralyzed you, even as he laid the contract out on the table. Every word on the page was a knife through the heart, but you couldn’t look away until you’d read it all, until you should have been bleeding, dying in the middle of that shitty restaurant.

“You know, it didn’t even take him five minutes before he decided to sign your love away for some pocket change, and a potential job,” Uncle Cedrick gloated, snatching up the contract before your humiliating tears could smudge the ink. “That sort of trash doesn’t belong anywhere near the Sylvad name.”

“I don’t want that fucking name,” you choked out, eyeing the guards he’d brought with him.

He sat back, his arms spread wide, just like his disgusting smile. So at ease, so fucking pleased.

“Are you feeling well, niece? Relationship troubles can–”

“I’m fine.”

Uncle Cedrick smirked, leaning over the table to touch your chin. You held your breath to keep from flinching, to keep from smelling that stupid cologne.

“I knew you’d be fine. You’re such a smart girl,” he praised, and the urge to throw up in his face was getting harder to fight. “It’s been too long. I have some suitors for you to meet, and I can guarantee that none of them would stand you up for such a meager amount of berry.”

“No, you’d cut your friends a much better deal,” you seethed, shaking beneath his gentle touch.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N,” he purred, and you had to close your eyes. Had to remind yourself why biting his fucking fingers off would be a bad idea. “You should know that people like us don’t get to marry for love, and I will do anything to protect this family. Even from my brother’s irritating obsession with his favorite daughter.”

He radiated satisfaction, and you knew exactly what smile he’d have when you opened your eyes. You could finally breathe again when he pulled away, taking his fingers, and his scent with him.

“We’ll get you set up with a date this weekend,” he chatted, his friendly tone giving you a headache. “I found a gentleman that looks quite like your wannabe shipwright, so feel free to have a little extra fun if you need to. Just don’t forget your pill, at least not until the wedding. We don’t need any more complications…”

Uncle Cedrick finally left, but your thoughts were too sharp, so you just stared, frowning at that cheap cocktail. Nausea roiled around your gut too much for you to open your mouth, let alone take a sip.

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

Buggy threatened them all a few more times, still afraid to reveal his star’s secrets, but he knew he couldn’t do a thing without all of their help.

“She lied to us, but I’ll shove a Buggy Ball up your–”

“I forgive her,” Crocodile sighed, almost laughing at his little clown. “I don’t care how many lies she told, I love her, and we’re getting her–”

“She didn’t trust us,” Buggy started again, his voice breaking slightly at the thought that she hadn’t trusted him. He pushed through, pushing out the next words as fast as he could. “She gets all that fucking tree money when she gets married, and whoever she marries instantly gets their own piece of that stupid company.”

“What?”

“I know you heard me, Hawk Eyes,” Buggy groaned, his hands floating away from their little huddle to shake and flap through the air.

“That can’t be right. What idiot would write that in a will,” Crocodile scoffed, watching those floating hands. “If that got out, she’d have a fucking target on her back her whole life. They wouldn’t even need a ransom, they could just kidnap her, and force her to…”

Eyes met, but all looked away while shame flooded the room.

“No wonder she’d never tell,” Shanks breathed, remembering the face she’d made when he pushed and prodded for her secret to come out.

“You said she’s getting married,” Mihawk shook himself. That urgent question had stayed unanswered while they comforted each other, while she was adrift out there with no one but enemies beside her. “Who the fuck do we need to kill?”

Buggy laughed, sick laughter, as though his star needed him to let it out since she couldn’t.

“My flashy girl's got a whole month to go on all sorts of shitty dates,” Buggy ranted, remembering what he’d be listening to for the next few weeks. “She gets to pick her favorite, slimy, fucking ASSHOLE, and then…”

“What, Bugs? We’ll know when the wedding is,” Shanks urged, rubbing his hand down Buggy’s back. “You just tell us when and where, and we’ll go get her.”

Silence went on, except for the scotch scented breaths that surrounded Buggy while he ran through everything he’d heard. They watched him for a few minutes after he brought his hands back, writing every detail he could remember.

“It’s not enough…”

They didn’t prod this time, but three hands touched Buggy again, until he sagged against Shanks’ chest.

“She wouldn’t leave me for this,” he tried to declare, but had to swallow the pressure in his throat to force it out. “She doesn’t wanna be there, you should hear her…”

Y/N had gone quiet, though he could tell she wasn’t sleeping. It sounded like she was just sitting in silence, not even the rustle of a book to fill the air.

Like she’d shut herself down.

“She’s smart, and she’s strong. She wouldn’t let him do this to her without a reason.”

“I trust you, Buggy,” Mihawk rasped, giving his clown the hint of a smile. “You’ll figure out the excuse we need to crash that wedding, and I’m certain you’ll put on quite the show.”

“I, yeah,” Buggy frowned as the swordsman's hands trailed down his chest, making him pause. Shanks gave a little huff of protest when Mihawk sank to the pile of rugs, pulling Buggy to the side.

“She trusts you. She wants you, Buggy,” Mihawk purred, feeling lost in a way that felt right as he followed along with his body’s plans. “You woke her up last night. You should have heard her little noises, should have smelled her after the finale…”

Shanks watched his lovers falling into each other, and there was a fearful urge to attach himself there, to cling, and to claim.

Yet something in the way their eyes were caught together made the red haired pirate take a breath, pulling himself up to sit on that green couch. The scarred man topped off their glasses of scotch, and they watched the show.

Crocodile hummed when they tapped their glasses, wondering if it was the scotch, the loss, or the fact that maybe things really were loosening up, that made this moment of sharing so relaxed, so easy.

“Smelled,” Buggy asked once he could remember how to talk, wetting his lips while he stared at Mihawk’s taunting mouth. Only it wasn’t taunting.

“Our little rabbit wanted you so badly, I thought she might leap over the crowd just to touch you.”

Buggy sighed, remembering her perfect smile. Then he gasped as Mihawk reached for him, kissing up his throat while those dangerous fingers traveled over his body, pulling at his clothes.

“What are–”

“I wanted you too, Buggy,” Mihawk confessed, eyes fluttering as he let himself give in, let himself say the things he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry. I treated you… I didn’t see you.”

“I’m kinda hard to miss,” Buggy deadpanned, feeling dizzy when the swordsman laughed.

Mihawk crawled over the clown, tossing his coat to the floor with barely a thought while he straddled him. He’d pulled at Buggy’s clothes enough that both of their upper bodies were bare, and the clown gave him a puzzled look.

“Why–”

“I didn’t see how strong you are,” Mihawk purred, moving his body along Buggy’s until the clown made pretty faces for him, soft fabric and leather rubbing together. He heard what sounded like two, pleased hums behind him, but Mihawk was too focused to look back. “Buggy the Clown is smart, and wicked, and powerful. I called you a fool, but… I was the fool. I didn’t see–”

“Shut up,” Buggy grumbled, wiggling away until Mihawk had to lay beside him, propped up on an elbow. The clown’s head was still quiet, but all of those words…

“Buggy, I–”

“Stop,” he snarled, cringing at the look in those golden eyes when Mihawk pulled his hand away.

“I’m sorry, of course,” Mihawk swallowed, not sure what to do with his hand now that it shouldn’t be touching the man he’d hurt.

“Bugs?”

That deep voice was ignored while Buggy sat up, brows furrowed when he got in the swordsman’s face.

“You love her too,” he announced, clapping a gloved hand along Mihawk’s arm. “I’m glad you love her, but you don’t need to pretend you like me.”

“Little clown…”

That even deeper voice was ignored while Mihawk sat up, kissing the clown until they both made hungry noises, but Buggy pushed him away.

“Toy, right? I can play. But we need to get–”

“You’re not a toy,” Mihawk vowed, hoping this would be the last time he’d have to say those words. “I want you, Buggy. I want to be with you, truly.”

The men on the couch had expected less talk during the show, and the urge to assist, and to comfort their boys was ramping up. Shanks watched, wide eyed, unsure if jealousy or gratitude would be a better fit. He took a swig, deciding that he liked gratitude better.

“There’s nothing I can say that will take away what I’ve done,” Mihawk breathed, feeling shameful grief at the fear that this man would never look at him without those monstrous memories behind his eyes.

“I’m not mad anymore,” Buggy soothed, not sure what was happening. “We’re good, okay? We–”

“Not mad anymore?”

Danger.

Something fucking deadly just filled the air. The men on the couch tensed, but neither tried to stop it.

“You must have been sooo angry with me…”

Shanks held in a laugh, smirking at Crocodile whose brows had lifted high, that frightening face looking shocked, but amused.

“Well, obviously, but it’s…” Buggy trailed off again, Mihawk’s wicked grin looming closer.

“I bet you imagined all sorts of ways to make me pay, didn’t you,” the swordsman wondered, biting his lip while his eyes poured over Buggy’s skin. His breath hitched when he noticed that lovely blush moving up the clown’s neck to his pretty face. “Did you imagine how you’d like to punish me?”

Buggy couldn’t help it. He was trying not to get sucked into whatever game this was. He needed to follow his old rules. Don’t get attached. Don’t like them too much. Don’t fall for the con.

But that perfect fucking face was unreal, the tiny movements around the eyes, the smirking corner of his lips, just fucking daring him to take a bite.

“I took an anger management class once,” Buggy coughed, shaking his head slowly as if to ward off this manic birdman. “So I’m totally fine!”

“Fine, really? Even after all of those awful things I did. All of those rotten things I said?”

The little flicker in Buggy’s eyes made Mihawk want to beg. He still might, but first, he pushed.

“What did I call you,” Mihawk hummed, leaning back on a hand while he remembered what a monster he was, trying to make it better. “That’s right. I just couldn’t believe how Y/N had ended up with such a pathetic clown.”

The clown couldn’t hide the slight jerk to his head, the hint of a snarl that anyone but Dracule Mihawk might have missed.

“I said so many terrible things. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to tear me to pieces,” the swordsman begged, and dared, and apologized. The room felt charged, static before a storm.

Buggy couldn’t look away from that perfect face.

“Mm, what did I say that first night? We made her promise something, didn’t we? Made her repeat my vicious words…”

The clown would have told him to stop if he could unclench his jaw.

“Do you remember, Buggy,” he whispered, his body loose, welcoming. “Do you remember how much you wanted to hurt me?”

A soft whine left the clown’s throat when Mihawk teased fingers over his chest, playing in that dark, blue hair.

“Don’t disappoint us by lowering yourself for that clown? What a cruel thing to say,” Mihawk rasped, almost losing his teasing tone as he drowned in his own guilt. “Are you sure you’re not still angry, Buggy? Even after we made her say–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled, more frightening than any yell the other men had heard from him. He let out a frustrated groan at how fucking happy the swordsman seemed to be while he choked him, both hands disconnected to shove the man onto the floor by the throat.

“You fucking psycho,” the clown scoffed as he straddled him, snarling down at those fluttering eyes. “Treat me worse than trash, then you get off when you try to say you’re sorry? You’re a fucking monster!”

“I am, please. I am a monster,” Mihawk fell apart, spluttering when Buggy released his neck, nothing hurting him enough to take it all away. “I’m so sorry, Buggy, please…”

Mihawk’s face crumpled, writhing beneath him with pathetic apologies spilling from his quivering lips.

Dracule fucking Mihawk was crying. Begging for forgiveness.

He’s really committed to the bit.

Buggy laughed again, and the look of shame on Mihawk’s face at the sound finally made it sink in.

He fucking believes it. He believes he deserves it…

“You’d better not think one shitty little tantrum’s gonna be enough for me to forgive you,” Buggy taunted, squeezing the man’s cheeks until his lips pushed out, already wet with drool and tears.

Mihawk shook his head as much as that grip would allow, panicked whimpers like some chaotic song filling the air while he tried to meet Buggy’s eyes.

“You gonna let me–”

“Anything,” Mihawk moaned, breaking free enough to breathe his consent against Buggy’s lips. “I deserve anything you want to give me, Buggy. Fucking hurt me–”

The clown’s eyes went wide, shocked by his own fist that had sent Mihawk’s head to the side. He glanced back, but couldn’t decipher the looks the men on the couch gave him, and the look on Mihawk’s face made his mouth dry.

“Let it out, Buggy,” Mihawk purred, feeling high, feeling right. “Show me how fucking wrong I was about you, darling. Show me–”

“You talk too much, idiot,” Buggy panted, hitting this beautiful, insane man again.

“I do,” he moaned, overwhelmed, and needing it all. “I said so many–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Buggy tore his gloves off, stuffing them into that mean mouth before stripping them both. He laughed, wicked and hungry, at the pathetic moans forced through that dirty fabric.

“Here.”

Crocodile pulled the lube from the side table, grinning at Buggy’s shocked face when he handed it off to Shanks. The red haired pirate winked at the clown before tossing him the bottle, then stuck his tongue out at the world’s greatest swordsman.

Mihawk drooled into the gloves, tearing up when Buggy gifted him with vicious nails, scraped down his sides.

“Don’t stop crying,” Buggy growled in the swordsman’s face while he shoved lubed fingers inside of him, loving the chaos in those watery eyes. “I’m gonna fuck you just like this, so I can watch Dracule Mihawk cry on my cock. Can’t believe I was ever scared of you… You’re just a desperate whore, huh? Just wanna get fucking wrecked by a clown?”

Little noises, frantic nods, tears, and pretty tears, while Buggy forced himself into Mihawk’s tight ass, satisfaction in every rough, punishing thrust.

“Alright, crybaby, tell me how fucking sorry you are now,” Buggy taunted, ripping the gloves from Mihawk’s lips before fisting into that soft, black hair. The clown was taking him up on his offer, fucking the swordsman harder and faster than he knew he could, fucking every ounce of anger and helplessness that he’d ever felt into the blubbering man beneath him.

“F-fuck, Buggy,” he choked, melting at the powerful look in the clown’s eyes, the evil smile of control on those lips. Melting under that thick, merciless cock that was giving him exactly what he deserved, exactly what he fucking needed. “I’m s-sorry, I–”

“Are you done apologizing?”

Mihawk’s eyes fought to refocus on that smirk, and he shook his head.

“No, Buggy. Not even close.”

“Good.”

So many things at once.

Buggy pulled away just enough to give Mihawk a brutal, backhanded slap. The swordsman was rocked by the force, the power, the pleasure, and the moment was so blissfully intense that he came, forgetting everything but the man that took him there.

Buggy laughed at the lovely ropes of come spilling between them, covering the other man’s chest and stomach, but the desperate look on that face dragged him down too. Buggy groaned, filling Mihawk with so much heat that it spilled down the sides of his cock while he kept fucking until they both whined, too much. All too much.

He finally pulled out, but Mihawk tugged at him, forcing the clown to meet those golden eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Buggy. I hope you believe me,” he breathed, all that pleasure still not enough to take away his need to make things right.

“You made a pretty convincing argument,” Buggy smiled, eyes sparking when Mihawk gave a surprised laugh.

“Look at our pretty, little boys,” Shanks purred, drawing their eyes.

“Maybe we can get along after all,” Crocodile threatened, his deep voice making every other man fight to resist a shiver.

“Maybe we–”

Buggy’s stomach was comically loud when it cut Shanks off, and it reminded all of these big, scary men that even they couldn’t survive on scotch and sex indefinitely.

Even they had to come back down to earth, and remember that their girl was all alone, that they still didn’t know how to get her back.

They were forced to remember that she had never trusted them in the first place.

“Buggy,” Crocodile soothed, tugging on the clown’s braid, still damp from the shower, while they all spaced out over brunch. “Is she…”

“She’s quiet,” Buggy reported, wishing he could hear her thoughts instead of just her disconcerting heart. “One of the servants said they’re landing in the morning. Something about her mom’s ‘preparations.”

“Preparations,” Shanks asked, watching his clown for every sign of strain while he listened to his star.

“Our girl’s about to go on a dating spree,” Buggy reminded, failing to keep his tone light.

“Are you–”

“I’ll be fine,” Buggy lied, cutting the swordsman off. “You remember what she said. Those assholes are BORING. It’ll probably be a big snooze fest.”

“Just tell us what you need, little clown,” Crocodile hummed.

His three lovers watched him while the clown closed his eyes, covering his ear to hear that lonely heartbeat.

“I just need her back,” Buggy whispered, tapping her rhythm onto his own chest. “I need my shining star.”

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Special thanks to the lovely Ao3 readers that leave the most gigantic, juiciest comments that occasionally fit what our boys need way too fucking well 😏🙏🏼 btw, I highly recommend checking out the comments over there! We go wild with that ridiculous character limit 😅 (they started getting longer around chapters 14-16, but hot damn, it's like a little book club lately! 🥰)

Chapter 29

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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owliellder · 2 years ago

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The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author's Note: This chapter is a tad shorter, my apologies. I almost didn't finish it cause my meds started to make me feel real gross tonight, but I managed! I am determined and powerful and strong 💪

Cross posted on AO3

Session 4: Adding Details

Ever since the last painting session with Leon a few days ago, he's been a lot more lively. He jokes more, laughs more, and flirts a lot more. Specifically with you.

It's only been a couple hours into the next session and he's already called you 'sweetheart' five times. You counted. Hard not to when the man decides to put on the most seductive tone to say it, honestly.

You've begun to reciprocate Leon's flirting since clearly he's not one to hide what he's after.

"Alright Romeo, I need you to stay still and in position for just a few minutes longer. I don't think you want me to accidentally paint you with those goo-goo eyes." Watching his poorly hidden panic made you giggle, his eyes averting to somewhere to the right. "Actually I need you to keep your eyes up here, not over there."

Leon groaned and rolled his eyes before turning them to look back at the spine of the easel, doing his best to hold a lax expression. "You're making this difficult. You have the picture!" He complained, eyebrows raising as he gestured to the stand sitting next to you.

"Yeah but- sit still- you're making the same goofy look in it like you were before." Once he resumed his position, you walked over to him from the easel to get a closer look at his expression, humming softly all the while. Leon was beginning to sweat, mostly due to having to sit still for as long as he had but now partially from your sudden proximity.

After getting a good look, you walked back over to the easel to continue painting, to which he let out a small sigh. He wanted to get to know you more, he should've tried that before you started the actual painting, but better late than never.

The man kept quite for roughly thirty minutes longer while you added smaller details to his face on the canvas, using probably the thinnest paintbrush he's ever seen.

"Is that thing even adding paint to the portrait? Or are you just pretending to get me to sit here longer?" There was that suggestive tone again, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you as they began to strain, but you could've swore he did that cheesy eyebrow wiggle at you.

You shook out your arm to give it a good stretch before placing it back where it was. "It's doing something. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Leon threw his head back with a laugh at your response, causing you to give him a quick glare before huffing out your annoyance. "Alright, clearly you're growing antsy. Let's take a short break." You stood up from the swivel chair and rolled your shoulders back, cleaning off your paintbrush with the solvent sitting next to you in a small mason jar. You had a couple of the windows open due to the fumes of the paint and solvent, so no worries there.

"Thank god..." Leon stood up with a loud and exaggerated groan. He wasn't young anymore, holding even a relaxed position like that was hard work on the body. "Thought I was gonna lose my legs." The dramatics this man possessed was funny, you had to admit.

"It's not that bad and you know it." You set down the paintbrush and turned around to see him mocking you with his hand. "Do I need to circle back to calling you a toddler? Cause I will."

Leon used the hand he was mocking you with to wipe across his eyebrow before letting his arm fall back to his side. "There's no need for extremes." Your lazy eyebrow raise at his response was all he needed to immediately follow up with "Sorry, ma'am."

It didn't sound genuine, but you'll take it. You nodded before walking over to the bathroom, scrubbing the paint from your hands to the best of your abilities. You had to use dish soap since oil paint was hard to wash off, that oily sheen was a pain in the ass when trying to hold a paintbrush.

The painting was really starting to come along. You worked fast while still remaining diligent. Oil paints were difficult to use, needing extreme patience due to how slowly it dried, how easily it could smear, and how hard it was clean off. No matter how nice you wanted to dress for Leon, you had to wear your painting outfit: A designated cheap and oversized outfit you picked out years ago for the sole purpose of taking a beating. You would wipe off your paintbrushes onto it to avoid having to use a paper towels or a rag each time.

Regardless, you were still as cute as ever to Leon. In fact, seeing you care so much about your work to be covered in paint was only making him fall for you more. Oversized clothes looked real good on you, so good that he'd been busy thinking about how you'd look in his clothes, hence that nearly blissed out expression you had to snap him out of earlier.

You both decided to sit over in the living area, Leon splayed out across the soft rug to give his joints a rest. He'd gotten a good look at how the painting was coming along before assuming his spot on the rug.

It was non-stop compliments from him. You could handle compliments, you've heard so many over the years regarding your art, but Leon's compliments were different. Instead of only complimenting the art, he decided to slip in little comments about you directly along side them.

"I went back to the White House over the weekend to look at the other portraits you'd done..." He started, head resting on his arms as they laid behind his head. "Just to get a feel for how mine would look once it's done."

"Is it living up to the standard so far? There's quite a bit more that needs to get done, and then it has to dry." You looked down at him on the rug, massaging your hand so it didn't cramp up more than it already had. "There's no standard for you to live up to, sweetheart. You could draw a stick figure and I'd be blown away."

You laughed at the suggestion, turning your head to look out one of the large windows to try and hide your smile. Wooing a painter was easy, apparently.

"You're just full of little accolades, aren't you, Mr. Kennedy?" You sighed, resting your chin in your hand as your elbow sat on your thigh.

"I can't help it. Being painted by such a pretty girl brings out the worst in me." Never in all your years of being alive had someone worked so hard to flatter you. Every single comment he made included something that had you flustered and struggling to respond.

Leon sat up on his elbows and looked over at you, that smirk as clear as day. He loved the way you could barely handle yourself at his compliments. "What're you thinkin' 'bout over there, angel?"

You let your hand fall into your lap as you looked back at him, giving his smirk a soft smile in return. "I could ask you the same question, calling me all these nicknames and such." It was only fair of you to ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

A little caught off guard, Leon hummed and pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. What was he doing, exactly?

"Well, whaddya think I'm doing?" Yeah, that was good. Instead of answering himself, he'll just drag it out of you. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're flirting with me." Your smile turned a bit more mischievous as you leaned towards him.

"Well, you'd be absolutely right, then." He responded with a chuckle, lowering his volume so he could fall right back into a seductive tone. "I got lucky enough to get my own painting. Even luckier to have you be the one painting me."

You gave him a small "mhm" as you nodded your head slowly, your tongue peaking out to wet your bottom lip as you listened to him talk. It took awhile, but eventually you managed a reply. "So... what exactly are you looking to do with all that sweet talk, hm?"

"Take you out on a date." His response was fast and it caught you off guard. Leon was so forward with what he wanted. When it came to the few people you'd dated in the past, you had to practically drag any sort of info from them. Your silence had brought him to sit all the way up now, body facing you as he sat with his legs crossed. "Is it working at all?"

It took a couple more seconds for you to nod, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you giggled. "Yeah, I think it is. Might need to keep it up just in case, though."

"Bummer, now I get to distract you even more while you paint me?" You stood up and placed your hand flat on his face, gently pushing his head back as you walked past him. "I'll paint on you if you distract me."

The session lasted a total of five hours, pausing for a couple breaks in between. You were now thoroughly painted out; hand cramping, eyes straining, and even with the windows open the smell of the paint and the solvent to clean it off the brushes had given you a slight headache. Leon was definitely tired also, given he actually fell asleep in the chair.

You decided to call it a day at that, patting him on the shoulder to wake him. "Time to get up and take your meds, old man." Leon startled awake, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose as he reoriented himself. When did he fall asleep?

You had already walked into the bathroom to wash your hands off, giving him the opportunity to wake up enough to stand. He yawned, walking over to look at how far along you'd gotten.

The painting immediately pulled him from his sleepy state, eyes widening with shock. You said you still had quite a bit left to do and it looked like this? It was like you'd ripped this straight from the 17th century. Leon was in awe. He looked good in this- no, far better than good. You'd captured his likeness better than the photo.

Seeing the man staring at your painting with his jaw dropped after walking out of the bathroom made you smile. "You like it?" You asked quietly while shaking your hands out as you hadn't dried them off all the way.

"No, I love it. You've got magic in those hands of yours, sweetheart." Leon crossed his arms, walking over to stand right in front of you. You clicked your tongue at him before your hand in front of him dismissively. "I wouldn't say it's magic, just years of drawing and painting endlessly until I got to the spot I wanted to be."

Leon closed his eyes and shook his head playfully, chuckling as he did so. "So humble of you." He followed you back over to the easel, watching you cover up the paints you were using with curious eyes. "About that date..."

You cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continued to carefully cover your paints. "What about it?"

"Just wondering when and where you'd want to go." The man grinned at you lazily, doing his best to disguise how nervous he actually was. "Hmm.." You glanced over at the wall clock you had sitting far above the light switches next to the entrance door, taking note of how late it was. "I'm pretty tired and I'm sure you are too, but how about we order something to eat here?"

Leon seemed surprised by your suggestion, grin widening as he nodded vigorously. "Plus, I am not going out looking like I just got assaulted with a paintball gun."

The two of you decided on something easy; pizza and soda. Leon opted to wear one of your many aprons to avoid getting any grease on his suit which made for an easy joke about him being a house-husband. Even though it was a technically a first date, both of you felt so comfortable with each other already, like you'd known each other for years. It was strange, but in a good way.

Leon was easy to get along with once he opened up. He really was a charming guy, even managing to get you to laugh with those corny ass dad jokes he loved so much. How such a man had gotten away with being single for so long baffled you.

The same went for you. Leon felt like you being single was just a fluke. There was no way someone as talented and gorgeous as you hadn't been swept off your feet yet. It was selfish of him for thinking it, but fuck was he ecstatic about that.

It was about 11pm when the two of you decided to call it a night, the hours spent bonding over random, seemingly meaningless stuff had really loosened both you and Leon up.

"Am I able to come back tomorrow and see you?" Leon asked in such a soft voice, motorcycle helmet in hand as he the other rested up against the doorway leading out of the building. He felt vulnerable for wanting to see you again like this.

"I won't be here tomorrow, need to give my hands a bit of a break." You giggled quietly, holding your palm out in front of him for emphasis. "But I can give you my address if you want to visit. I don't mind."

Those butterflies in his stomach fluttered at your proposal, barely able to nod after feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket once you texted him your address. He tried to act confident, having gone over every scenario possible in his head, yet you'd gone off script and he wasn't quite sure what to do anymore.

Seeing how flustered he'd become, you waved him closer, smiling as he bent over slightly. Leon thought you were gonna whisper something to him, that thought alone had him blushing, but feeling the gentle press of your lips against his had him struggling to breathe. He barely had a chance to react before you pulled away, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

You reached up and gently patted his cheek, running your hand along the stubble that had started to grow back. "Let me know when you wanna come over tomorrow, alright? Give me a little time to get dressed. I've looked ratty enough around you."

Leon wanted to protest that statement, you were far from ratty, but you just shushed his stuttering and nudged him out the door, giggling as he stumbled down the steps. He kept turning his head back to look at you every couple steps, feeling like some lovesick teenage boy who couldn't get his feet to work.

He was a little scared to drive home considering how uncoordinated he felt, but he made it back in one piece. Once sat on his bed, all he could think about was you and that damn painting. Leon didn't know what he was expecting when it came to that, honestly, but you seriously outdid yourself in his eyes.

Then you just had to flirt back with him, agree to a little date, and kiss him? Do you even know how hard it was to hide his boner from you?

He really did feel like a teenage boy, a simple kiss having him harder than a rock. Not to mention the drive home was uncomfortable since he had to position himself just right on the seat or else the constant vibration from his motorcycle would seriously cause him to crash.

Leon was weak. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time, but he guessed the newfound attraction came with the subconscious acceptance of his retirement. It's what made sense in his head.

God did he want you, masturbating in the shower to you wasn't enough, he needed you. All he could think about was your soft hands touching him, his hands all over your body, maybe even those pretty eyes of yours looking into his as he loved on you all night long.

The age gap was a bit of a worry to him in the beginning, mostly being insecure about his own age, but that worry was quickly brushed off when you kissed him tonight. You were a big girl. You knew what you wanted.

Leon felt so lucky that you reciprocated. All he'd felt since his retirement was grief, guilt, and pity for himself. Now you had him feeling like he was on top of the world and he couldn't ask for anything more. This little bit of sweetness in his life was so enticing, and of course he was going to follow it for as long as you'd let him.

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loveriotss · 8 months ago

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[ 🥐 ] LOVE ALLIANCE : ALLIANCE D'AMOUR ⸻ MEET : y/n l/n's crew | k.bakugo x gn! reader smau series

phantom hero : mirage - y/n l/n → quirk : phantom touch - allows the user to create temporary constructs that can interact with the physical environment. these constructs are only visible to the user and can be anything from simple shapes (walls/shields/etc) to more complex forms (weapons/creatures/etc). [ a/n: i havent decided if y/n's quirk will be relevant enough but if it is i'll make sure to give more info about it! i wanted to give a quirk just incase ykwim. ] → a well loved and popular hero. praised for their skills and charming personality. → gets moped into dating scandals for even the slightest interactions with other pro heroes 😭. → had a crush on bakugo in highschool

zero gravity hero : uravity - ochaco uraraka → founder of gravity guidance : a quirk counseling enterprise that helps young children/students with their quirks. → might have returning feels for a certain ua teacher. → has occasionally hosted game and talk shows!

rain season hero : froppy - tsuyu asui → girly is does NOT gaf about rumors or scandals about her. → will proudly say or tweet whatever is on her mind (her pr team has given up i fear). → she has many amphibians and exotic bugs as pets.

ua teacher : deku - izuku midoriya → his embers last forever. although he is significantly weaker than before, he works to regain his strength. → yes his classmates are still actively funding for a hero suit. → currently he teaches at ua academy.

speed hero : ingenium - tenya iida → he is also an author. → he enjoys writing in his free time, it helps him feel calm. → mother of the group, always looking out for his friends and assuring that their needs are met.

hot and cold hero : shoto - shoto todoroki → does modeling on the side. → not hard to spot his face on a big billboard. → donates a lot of his income to quirk therapy and villain rehabilitation centers.

ᯓ★» LOVE ALLIANCE !

masterlist | next >

ᯓ★» ALLIANCE SECRETS !

୨ৎ : shoto got his brother touya into modelling too! although it took a bit of convincing, he eventually agreed. it's not his main career at the moment, but he's enjoying it as he tries to figure out what he wants to do in life. ୨ৎ : tsu has doxxed MANY people (haters). beware before you post smack about her or her friends because trust you'll find your ip address in your comments. ୨ৎ : iida also likes painting! he mostly paints geometrical shapes with muted colors when he's going through writers block. ୨ৎ : ochaco is a big fashion girlie! when she's not feeling tired or lazy, trust she'll glam out! (pro hero money PAYS) ୨ৎ : izuku has many fan boys and girls of his own (just like how he fanboyed over all might in his student days). he is grateful for their admiration!

ᯓ★» AUTHOR'S NOTE !

my au my rules i don't want anyone of you commenting on izuku's quirk situation. "ermm that's not accurate to the lore 🤓☝️" SHUSHH. do you guys like the little random things i gave them to do on their side!!!! also also pretend they do have those official tick marks bc i added those later but felt lazy and didn't update the screenshots.

ᯓ★» TAGLIST !

( comment on masterlist to be added + pls check ur settings if you're unable to be tagged ) @chsvok @ch3rryjampi3 @emmab3mma @pikachuzhc @cholios @zaiban2989 @hearts4heidi @ikissfade @themultifandomgirl @god-hangry-otter @solecitoszn @sunlix143 @rikislove @fackeraccount @chaoslibra @4rmins @harryzcherry @luvvvamy

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years ago

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Aegon ii Targaryen NSFW Alphabet

summary: it's in the title :3

notes: i don't condone anything aegon ii has done in canon. that being said, tgc is so... arhaskhfkghl enjoy

warnings: smut, written with fem!reader in mind, mentions of sw

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @a-beaverhausen @ilikeitbetterangsty (hmu to be added to any taglist)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He wants to be the one to be cuddled and taken care of after. Honestly, he doesn’t mind that you’re sticky/sweaty, he just wants a hug.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He pretends to be confident about his body, but there’s nothing he likes about it much. Whatever you appreciate most, he does too.

For you, he’s a simple man. Likes tiddies.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This goes hand in hand with the body part thing. He likes coming on your tits as well.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to have a threesome/foursome. Doesn’t really care how many people there are, and he certainly wouldn’t mind watching.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He thinks he’s experienced, but all of that comes from whores. You’ll probably have to teach him a bit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Idk.. maybe spooning? Something cuddly for sure

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He doesn’t take himself very seriously anywhere, but he wants to be taken serious. He’ll joke around, but he’d rather focus on the moment

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not well groomed. He doesn’t care very much, but doesn't care how well groomed you are either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think he’d be very intimate if he cared for you. In my head, aegon is definitely polyamorous/would prefer open relationships, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Uhh- let’s skip this one

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. He wants to be praised so so much, even though he won’t ask for it

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

A pleasure house is probably most practical, but his bedroom is also good.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. His own mind. Anything and everything really. He wiped you off with a towel once? Now he sees a towel and gets horny. It just be like that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurt you. He doesn’t enjoy pain on you or himself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving, and he loves to be cockwarmed like that as well

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mostly slow, a little bit lazy maybe. Morning sex with him is top tier.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes quickies in the form of surprise blowjobs/handjobs, but he’d rather fuck you properly

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s not that into experimenting. He’s got a few things he likes but if he’s with a partner he trust then sure, maybe.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for one or two rounds, but everything around that is way more important to him. Likes to take it slow.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Regular Aegon wouldn’t have toys, but modern!Aegon most definitely would. Maybe a vibrator or something to make you feel good.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He feels terrible when he teases, so he normally doesn’t do it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He moans for sure. He wants you to hear him too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes, he prefers cuddling over sex, but there’s nothing as good as pulling you close when you’re half-awake and playing with you until you’re fully there.

Modern!Aegon finds vibrating underwear hilarious

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Okay honestly I think he’s average-

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Depends on his mood. If he’s feeling down, then it’s none existent but if he’s happy, he’s insatiable

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Extremely quickly. He’s been in your arms for two seconds, and boom he’s gone.

#aegon #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you

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zizzlekwum · 8 months ago

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Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The BAU goes to New Orleans to solve a series of murders. Follows the events of Criminal Minds Season 2 Episode 18 "Jones."

Trigger Warnings: mentions of and mild descriptions of sexual assault

Word Count: 6,396

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin @fatherfigured [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

NOTE: Sorry it took so long. I was sick for a week, and then I was almost finished last night (I had one more scene to write) and then my bunny, Pippa, unexpectedly died, so that ruined the rest of the night and I basically stayed in bed crying.

You arrive at work early, yawning as you sit down at your desk. You’re not surprised to see Hotch already at work. He gives you a nod as you sit down at your desk and start researching crime statistics.

“Morning, Y/L/N.”

You look up to see Prentiss sitting down at her desk across from you, giving you a small smile. “Hey, Emily,” you greet before yawning again.

“Rough night?” she asks.

You shrug. “I’m bipolar,” you explain. “I’m medicated, but about once a month, like clockwork, I go three days without sleeping.”

She frowns, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy. “That sucks. What do you do all night?”

“I lay in bed and pretend I’m sleeping,” you tell her. “I read a study once that found that pretending to sleep is actually more beneficial than just saying ‘fuck it’ and not trying. Basically, laying down and trying to sleep will help you feel more rested, even if you don’t actually sleep.”

“That’s really interesting,” Emily says.

“I thought so, too,” you say. “I would try to find the study for you, but it was back in my own universe, so I’m not sure it exists yet.”

“You should tell Reid about it,” she says. “I’m sure he would be interested.”

“What would I be interested in?” Reid asks from behind her, walking through the doorway.

“Just a study I read years ago,” you tell him. You’re filling him in when Hotch comes out of his office.

“We have a case,” he says. “Conference room, please.” You all nod and follow him into the room, where JJ is standing in front of the TV.

“We’ve got a serial killer in New Orleans who killed at least three men pre-Katrina,” JJ informs you. “Until now, the New Orleans police department believed that the serial killer died in the storm.”

“What’s happened to tell them otherwise?” Morgan asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“A fourth body was found in the French Quarter last night.” JJ pulls up an image of the victim. “Same MO. Another male. Throat slashed, eviscerated.”

Prentiss frowns. “A year and a half? That’s a long cooling-off period. Are we sure this is the same unsub?”

“Well, he was probably displaced by the storm,” you point out. “Maybe he kept committing murders in another jurisdiction?”

“Possible,” JJ says, nodding at you. “He send a letter to William LaMontagne, the head detective on the case, claiming to be the same unsub.”

Gideon crossed his arms in front of him. “LaMontagne have any leads?”

“He died in Katrina,” JJ says. “His son is actually heading the case now.” You fight back a smile at her unknowingly mentioning her future husband.

“That can’t be easy,” Morgan says, frowning.

“Well, we need to pour over the evidence from the first three murders and determine the pattern,” Hotch says.

JJ shakes her head. “Katrina washed everything away. The three victims we know of, their autopsy reports, witness statements, DNA test results.”

“So basically, all we have to go on is the latest victim?” Reid says.

“Until he kills again,” Hotch adds.

“Fun,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

* * * * *

On the jet, you’re playing Pokemon Diamond on your DS, since there aren’t any files to go over.

“Hey Reid,” Morgan says. “What’s going on up there?”

Reid shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I was just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas— Ethan. I’m pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now.”

“Really? Gonna give him a call?” Morgan asks.

Reid shrugs. “We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau, but… first day at Quantico, he backed out.”

“He probably just couldn’t take the heat,” Prentiss jokes with a smile.

“It’s not really for us to judge, is it?” Reid frowns.

Prentiss’ smile fades. “Right. My bad.”

JJ clears her throat. “These are copies of the newspaper articles on the murders, dating back to early August, 2005.” She hands you a stack of papers as you close your DS and put it back in your bag. “It’s all we have to go on.”

“He killed three times, he stopped for eighteen months, then he started killing again,” Hotch says.

“We should have Garcia run a list of any offenders in the area,” Gideon says. “Anyone who spent the last year and a half doing time, and like Y/L/N suggested, anyone who was forced to relocate after the storm and recently moved back.” He nods at you.

“What is the victimology in killing a mechanic, a real estate broker, and a cook, with ages ranging from twenty-two to forty-five?” Prentiss asks.

JJ nods. “And this latest is a thirty-three year old taxi driver. They just don’t seem to have very much in common.”

“Apart from being men,” you say.

“And walking the French Quarter at night,” Morgan adds.

“Which is notorious for muggings off the main drag,” JJ says.

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but this guy isn’t in a rush to flee the scene. A slaughter like this takes time.”

“Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives,” Reid chimes in, “and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero.”

“The city’s barely back to life,” Gideon says. “Something like this could cripple its psyche.”

“So where do we start?” JJ asks.

“We don’t have any case files or anything,” you remind her. “We really only have one place to start.”

Hotch nods. “Square one.”

* * * * *

When the plane lands, the team splits up. You go with Reid and Prentiss to the ME to examine the body.

“Four layers of fatty tissue sliced through like butter,” the ME says, uncovering the body. “I only seen that three other times.”

“You work this case initially?” Reid asks.

The ME nods as you slip on a pair of latex gloves. “You don’t forget victims like this. It’s like they were dissected.”

“I can still smell the alcohol on him,” Prentiss notes, also putting on gloves.

The ME shrugs. “This is New Orleans. Dead or alive, it’s a smell you get used to.”

“No defensive wounds,” you note, carefully lifting up the victim’s arm.

“Most likely a blitz attack,” Reid adds. He examines the stab wounds. “No hesitation marks or rapid thrusts. Cuts were methodical. Almost procedural.”

“My guess?” the ME chimes in. “Whoever gutted this guy was taught to.”

“You’re thinking he might have some medical training?” Prentiss asks.

The ME nods. “How else could he carve around every organ and leave each one intact?”

“Has anyone come to claim the body yet?” you ask.

“Anyone we could speak with?” Prentiss says.

“No,” the ME says, shaking his head. “I’ll end up boxing up the poor bastard’s ashes, left to collect dust in storage. All the bodies I’ve been through in the last year and a half, it’s a wonder I still have room.”

* * * * *

When the three of you get back to the station, Hotch is looking at a projection on the wall.

“Is that the letter from the unsub?” Prentiss asks.

“Yeah,” Hotch says. He reads it aloud. “‘I’m back with a vengeance. I wanted you to know… the last guy made it easy, being out so late, stumbling home drunk. I enjoyed slicing around the organs, thought about sending you one. He was asking to be ripped. Don’t you think, Boss? Yours Truly.’”

“To say that the victims were asking to be killed denies all culpability,” Reid says. “Most sexual sadists rationalize their own behavior by blaming the victims like that.”

Prentiss shakes her head. “But there was no evidence of sexual assault in the autopsy. He could be a homosexual male stabbing because he needs violence for arousal.”

“Every kill he’s acting out a fantasy of revenge,” Hotch says.

“What if he’s trying to act out something else?” Reid says.

“Like what?” Hotch asks.

Reid glances at the projection of the unsub’s letter. “With the exception of the victims being men, it’s the same MO.”

“What are you talking about?” Prentiss asks.

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Jack the Ripper?”

Reid nods. “Exactly. All four victims were found with their throats slashed, eviscerated, and the murders perpetrated in semi-public places after dark. Investigators taunted with letters addressed to ‘Boss.’ The only difference is that case was a hundred years ago and the murders took place in London.”

“And the unsub wants us to think that he’s the modern-day version loose in New Orleans,” Hotch says.

* * * * *

The next day, you find yourself at the scene of another murder. You, Morgan, and Reid are questioning the victim’s friends.

“So the three of you were out together last night?” Reid asks.

The man to your left nods. “Mark had just paid his tab at one bar and was on his way to meet us at another.”

“You guys get in any trouble?” Morgan asks. “Drunken brawl? Anybody get out of hand?”

The other man shakes his head. “We were just out to have fun, you know? Minded our own business.”

You adjust your glasses on your nose. “Could Mark have met a girl? Maybe upset her boyfriend?”

“No, ma’am.” The man on the right shakes his head again. “He struck out like we all did.”

Morgan nods. “Thanks guys.” You, Morgan, and Reid turn back to the body, where Prentiss, Gideon, and Detective Will LaMontagne are standing around the victim.

Will crosses his arms. “I can hardly keep up with this guy.”

“Well, if he’s mimicking Jack the Ripper, that might be precisely the point,” Prentiss says. “He terrorized London for months without ever getting caught.”

Gideon looks at Will. “I’d appreciate it if you’d gather your men. We’d like to give you a profile of who you’re up against.”

* * * * *

Back at the precinct, the team stands in front of the New Orleans cops, ready to tell them the profile. Hotch stands in the middle, while Emily is leaning against the wall next to you.

“The offender we’re looking for is friendly, agile, somewhere between thirty and thirty-five,” Hotch starts.

“He’ll lure with charm, kill with rage,” Gideon continues.

“We believe he’s murdering men to reclaim his power,” Emily says. “This unsub suffers from low self-esteem, but he probably covers it well. He dresses impeccably to feed the facade. Jack the Ripper himself was an impetuous lust murderer, whereas this offender is organized, calculating. He might even stalk his victims for days before the actual kill.”

“We believe this killer identifies with Jack the Ripper because he’s lost his own identity,” Gideon says. “Maybe through years of child abuse or some catastrophic event.”

Hotch continues the profile. “Because he overcompensates to hide his insecurities, we believe he may hold a position of authority at work.”

“We also believe the unsub has had medical training,” you add. “Consider EMTs, doctors, and veterinarians, people who may have an advanced understanding of the human body.”

“Please be careful,” Gideon says. “For this unsub, the French Quarter is a hunting ground. He’s certainly already proven he knows the terrain.”

The cops disperse and you and Emily return to the conference room to look over the evidence when Emily’s phone rings.

“Prentiss,” she answers, putting the phone on speaker.

“What was the thing Jack the Ripper took from one of his victims?” Garcia asks. “Besides. Well, you know. Her life.”

“Oh, uh….” Prentiss trails off.

“Tick, tock,” Garcia says.

You think for a moment. “Kidney?”

“Ding ding ding! Y/N’s right,” Garcia exclaims. “How horrifyingly fantastic is that?”

Emily nods at you, making you smile. “Garcia, are you going anywhere with this?” she asks.

“Just that I found an unsolved murder that happened four months ago in Galveston, Texas, with the same MO, the victim missing that very organ. I amaze myself.”

“Hey, I did wonder if the unsub was displaced by the hurricane,” you point out.

“Y/N, you are also amazing,” Garcia says.

Emily laughs. “I agree,” she says, causing your cheeks to heat up. “Great work, Garcia,” she says.

“Who was that?” Gideon asks, walking into the room.

“I may have been right,” you tell him. “Garcia found a case in Texas that fits the Ripper’s MO, four months ago.”

Gideon nods. “A lot of Katrina refugees relocated there after the storm.”

“It could definitely be our unsub,” Prentiss agrees. “He removes the kidney, just like Jack the Ripper.”

Gideon gestures to you. “Call Reid and Morgan. I want the four of you on a plane to Texas tonight.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Will do,” you tell him quietly.

* * * * *

Emily glances back at you as you follow her up the stairs into the jet. “Are you okay? I know you had a hard time in Texas during the last case.”

You sigh, fiddling with your hands. “I’m treating it as exposure therapy,” you tell her with a shrug. “It’s how I got myself used to the grocery store during the weekend days when it was wicked crowded. Besides,” you say, shooting her a smile, “I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, even if my asshole ex somehow did show up.”

She chuckles, throwing an arm around you. “You got that right. We have your back.”

The two of you settle in and wait for Reid and Morgan to get there, chatting about the case as you wait. After a few minutes, Morgan walks onto the jet.

You nod at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his bag down. “Where’s Reid?”

“He’s not with you?” you ask. Morgan shakes his head.

Next to you, Emily frowns. “We were hoping he was.”

“Thought you said you called him?” Morgan asks her.

She nods. “I did! Four times, nothing.” She glances at her watch. “The victim’s fiancée is expecting us.”

“What do we do?” you ask.

Morgan shakes his head. “We got one option. Wheels up.” He goes to tell the pilot to take off.

* * * * *

When you get to the fiancée’s house, it’s dark out. She invites you in and you take a seat next to Prentiss on the couch, Morgan on her other side.

“Everyone kept saying crime’s gonna skyrocket after the relocation,” the victim’s fiancée says. “You just never think it’s gonna happen to you.”

“The report said that your fiancé was bar-hopping for his bachelor party on the night he was killed,” Prentiss says.

“We were supposed to be married in October,” the fiancée says. She takes a deep breath. “He was just out celebrating that with friends.”

“Was there anyone at Leonard’s bachelor party you didn’t know?” Morgan asks.

She shakes her head. “We all grew up together. They’re like family to me. Whether they met somebody out, you know, that’s a different story.” She laughs humorlessly. “They’re a rowdy bunch. They’d party with anybody.”

You finish up the interview and leave the house. You hop in the back seat, giving Emily the passenger seat while Morgan drives. Emily sighs. “Each of the last two victims was traveling with a group. Both were drinking, both in public arenas, bar-hopping. So how could their friends not see anything?”

“It’s like when the lion preys upon an antelope,” Morgan says.

Emily frowns. “You lost me.”

Morgan laughs. “Well that’s because you, Emily Prentiss, have never been one of the antelope.”

“Oh, scratch that,” Emily says. “You totally lost me.”

“Me too,” you say, frowning.

“Okay, check this out,” Morgan says. “The antelope travel in packs. So the lion just sits and waits. Waits for just one of the antelope to break away from its herd, so when he’s alone, vulnerable, and completely unprotected, that’s when the lioness strikes. That’s when she makes her move.”

“Wait a minute, ‘her’ move,” Emily repeats.

Morgan nods. “There’s only one thing that’s gonna make a straight man leave his friends on a guys night out. And it’ll make him leave every time. One of the victims was out for his bachelor party. Another one out with just the guys. What’s the only temptation that’s gonna lure these men away from each other.” He takes out his phone and dials.

“The unsub’s a woman,” you finish.

* * * * *

Back at the precinct, you, Morgan, and Prentiss are looking through the case files again when Reid walks in.

“Hey, you guys are back from Galveston?” he asks, sitting down next to you.

“First light this morning,” Morgan replies. “Where were you?”

“I was out with a friend, I already told you,” Reid says casually.

“I called you four times,” Prentiss says.

“I didn’t have any cell phone reception, so I didn’t get your message until late,” Reid says.

Prentiss rolls her eyes. “Right.”

Reid looks to you. “What’s going on?”

“Unsub’s a woman,” you tell him. “We’re looking through the evidence again with that in mind.” He opens his mouth to respond when Hotch walks up behind him.

“We just found another body in the Quarter,” Hotch says. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

At the scene of the newest murder, Morgan is examining the body as you, Prentiss, Gideon, and Reid watch him.

“Throat’s been cut,” Morgan says. “He’s been disemboweled, too.”

Gideon crouches down next to the body. “Reeks of booze,” he says. “It’s more than a pattern.”

“Only this time, she cut off the earlobe,” Morgan adds.

You nod. “Like Jack the Ripper.”

Prentiss looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“In one letter or correspondence, Jack the Ripper promised to cut the earlobe off his next victim, and he did,” Reid says.

“Wasn’t that the only day he killed twice?” you ask. Reid nods.

“So she’s gonna kill again by the end of the day,” Gideon says.

“Most likely,” you say. “Unless we can stop her by then.”

“Okay,” Prentiss starts, “what do we know about female serial killers?”

Gideon nods. “Basically, you have two types.”

“The Sante Kimes model,” Morgan says. “Cold, calculated. Preys on men for money. Takes her time building relationships.”

“Doesn’t sound like this unsub,” you say.

“It’s more likely we’re dealing with the Aileen Wuornos archetype,” Reid agrees, nodding at you. “Motivated by paranoia and fear, luring men with sex.”

“This unsub’s organized,” Gideon says. “She follows a routine. She meets men in a bar, flirts with them over drinks, and suggests they consummate the evening in an alley.”

“We should patrol the streets tonight,” you say. “Especially knowing we can expect another body by the end of the day.”

“Office just brought me this,” Detective LaMontagne says from behind you. You turn and see him holding out an evidence bag with what appears to be another letter from the unsub inside.

Emily takes it from him and reads. “Dear boss, by now I have rid the world of one more. So many men, so little time. I hope you don’t mind the mess. They make it so easy, I just can’t help myself. Yours truly.”

* * * * *

Later that night, you and Emily are patrolling the alleys together.

“Most of the women are in groups,” you note, looking around.

Emily nods from beside you. “We should be looking for someone on her own.”

You frown, thinking of the latest letter. “So many men, so little time,” you repeat. “She’s dead set on killing men. I wonder why?”

“She might be misplacing the rage from a father who molested her,” Emily suggests. “Some people think Jack the Ripper mutilated women after his mother sexually abused him for years.”

“She seems apologetic, weirdly enough,” you add. “At least for leaving a messy scene. I don’t understand why.”

Emily shrugs. “That might be what the detective’s father figured out before he died.”

You sigh. “Okay, I’m going to preface this with the fact that I’m not victim blaming, simply curious, but why are these men just fine with following a stranger into a random alley alone? I would never.”

Emily chuckles. “They’re not thinking with their head.”

“At least, not the correct one,” you respond. She laughs.

“Exactly.” The two of you continue looking around for anything that stands out, conversation lulling for a bit.

“Do you know what’s going on with Reid?” Emily asks after a little while.

You let out a long breath. “He… I mean, he hasn’t been the same since Tobias Hankel, and understandably so,” you tell her. “But I wish he’d let us in.”

She looks out at the crowd around you. “Not to change the subject, but I feel like we’re missing something. Let’s go meet up with the others, see if they’ve had any luck.”

You nod, following her through groups of people, fighting the urge to reach out and grab her hand so you don’t lose her. You find Morgan and Reid first.

“Hey,” Morgan says, shaking his head. “We got nothing.”

You frown. “Well, we’re running out of time. Day’s almost over.”

Emily sighs. “Hopefully Hotch and Gideon or JJ and the detective had better luck. Otherwise….” Her voice trails off, but you all know what she means.

Otherwise, you’re going to find another body.

* * * * *

The next morning, you arrive at the scene of the newest murder. Detective LaMontagne is kneeling next to the body, shaking his head.

“She’s mocking us,” he says, standing as you, Emily, JJ, Gideon, and Reid duck under the crime scene tape.

“And she’s true to her word,” Emily notes.

Reid crouches down next to the body. “Does anyone have any tweezers?” he asks. One of the crime scene techs hands him a pair. “Thank you.” He uses them to extract something white from the victim’s mouth.

“What is that?” JJ asks.

“I have no idea,” Reid says.

You look closer as Reid stands. “A note, maybe?”

Reid unfolds the paper and nods. “Y/L/N is right.” He looks over at the detective. “It’s addressed to your father.”

“Let’s see it,” Gideon says. Reid hands him the paper. “‘Dear boss,’” Gideon reads, “‘he wanted it, with that sharp tongue and vulgar hand. Thought you’d like to know, another will soon get what he deserves. Yours truly.’”

“It’s weird,” Reid notes.

You frown. “How so?”

“Typically offenders write letters to be heard,” he explains. “Jack the Ripper bragged about not being caught, but this unsub isn’t using correspondence to flaunt her latest kill, only to explain why she did it.”

“It’s possible that she considers herself a vigilante,” Prentiss suggests. “That the men she’s killing deserve to die.”

“Or maybe she’s contacting your father, not because he was the lead detective on the case, but… because she believes he’d understand,” Gideon tells the detective.

“You think he knew her somehow?” Detective LaMontagne asks.

“Can you think of a woman in your dad’s life he helped through a tough time?” JJ asks. “Might be another police officer, I don’t know, a prostitute he helped get off the street?”

The detective shakes his head. “Nah, he hasn’t dealt with prostitutes since he worked sex crimes.”

“The unsub wrote, ‘he was asking to be ripped,’ ‘I just couldn’t help myself,’ and ‘he wanted it,’” Reid says.

“Wait, that sounds a lot like what rapists say to excuse their behavior,” you say. You turn to the detective. “You said your dad worked sex crimes? Maybe she was one of his victims.”

Reid nods at you. “Exactly. She may be mirroring the man who raped her.”

“Detective, where are the files stored from your sex crimes division?” Gideon asks.

Detective LaMontagne shakes his head. “They were housed in the same place as homicide. Most of them washed away.”

“Did your dad have a partner?” JJ asks.

“Yeah, J.R. Smith,” the detective says. “Smitty, they called him.”

“Maybe he remembers something,” you suggest.

“Yeah, but they had a falling out,” Detective LaMontagne says.

Emily frowns. “What about?”

The detective shrugs. “I don’t know. They stopped talking when he left sex crimes. That was nine years ago. The guy didn’t even come to my daddy’s funeral, so….”

“Do you have a problem calling him?” Gideon asks.

“Not if it means breaking this case,” Detective LaMontagne says. He looks down at the body, frowning. “Honey, may I borrow your hand for a minute?” he asks JJ. She nods. The detective uses her to look at the victim’s hand, where there’s a stamp. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” you ask.

He gestures to the hand. “That stamp? It’s admittance into the Mon Cherie. It’s a bar in the French Quarter.” He stands. “Nine years ago? It was called Jones.”

“Bingo,” Gideon says. He turns to JJ. “Get Garcia on the phone.”

* * * * *

At the Mon Cherie, Detective LaMontagne leads you all towards a man sitting alone at a table. “Smitty, how are you?” he says, holding out a hand to shake.

Smitty stares at him. “I hope you got a good reason for dredging this crap up,” he says coldly.

Detective LaMontagne lowers his hand. “Well I was hoping you might remember being called here with my daddy nine years ago.”

“Is that a joke?” Smitty asks, glaring at him.

The detective shakes his head. “No?”

Gideon steps forward. “My name’s Jason Gideon. We’re from the FBI. We’re investigating the series of murders in the French Quarter.”

Smitty shrugs. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“We need you to tell us what happened the night you and Detective LaMontagne answered the call in this bar,” Emily says. Smitty just stares at her.

“Am I missing something?” the detective asks.

Smitty smiles, and it makes you want to take a step back. “You really don’t know, do you? After that night, your daddy tried to bring me up on sanctions.”

“Why?” Detective LaMontagne asks.

“It was Mardi Gras. Some girl claimed she was raped,” Smitty tells him. You grit your teeth at his wording and flippant attitude. “I wasn’t buying it.” You fight the urge to cross your arms.

“What did she say happened to her?” JJ asks.

“Brass backed me up,” Smitty continues, ignoring JJ. “They ended up transferring your daddy out to shut him up.”

“What happened here?” Emily asks, glancing at you with a frown.

“It almost cost me my career.” Smitty ignores her.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?” Gideon asks the question this time.

Smitty stands, walking across the room. “My best recollection, she said she was sitting at the bar with two friends. One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play some pool. Witnesses claim she was up for anything.” You grit your teeth again but say nothing.

“She followed him up here?” Emily asks as he gets to the stairs.

Smitty nods. “His friend not far behind. She knew he was there.” You bite your lip. “That girl was a tease,” Smitty says. You want to punch the smug look off his face. “She was looking for a good time. Anyway, a couple guys were going along with that.”

“Did she yell out for help?” JJ asks.

“She said she did,” Smitty says, rolling his eyes. “But not a single person claimed that they heard her.”

“That’s what you registered as a disturbance?” you ask incredulously, your voice coming out louder than you mean for it to.

“It was Mardi Gras,” Smitty tells you. “Listen to me, that girl had enough beads hanging from her neck to jewel a small city. Anyone who exposes themself that much in one day isn’t a credible witness in my book.” You flex your fingers in an attempt to not curl them into a fist, a habit you formed as a child when you would get upset.

“But she wanted to press charges,” Detective LaMontagne says.

“I told her it was a waste of time,” Smitty says. “I knew one of the accused. He was a good kid.” He shakes his head. “He didn’t need the stink of that accusation.” You grab the bottom of your shirt into a fist.

Gideon sits down next to Smitty. “So you protected a rapist.”

Smitty scoffs. “Well, that right there was a bone of contention between his daddy and I. As far as I was concerned, no such rape ever took place. Now are you gonna tell me why you went and dragged this dirt back through my life?”

There’s a pause, and then Gideon speaks. “You know the serial killed who’s cutting up men in the French Quarter? She was your victim.”

“We’re trying to find a name,” Detective LaMontagne says. Smitty shakes his head.

“You don’t even remember her name?” Emily says.

Smitty rolls his eyes. “It was nine years ago.”

“Okay then, how about the name of the ‘good kid?’” you ask. “You know, the one who raped her.” Smitty takes another sip of his drink, not responding.

“Smitty,” Detective LaMontagne says. “You tell me right now or I’ll file a new sanction against you, and I guarantee you, this time it’ll stick.”

“Ronnie Thibideaux,” Smitty grumbles.

You turn and stalk outside, where you allow yourself to clench your hands into fists.

“You okay?” Emily asks from behind you.

You turn to face her. “I don’t like him.”

She smiles softly. “I can tell.”

“Was I that obvious?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Maybe not to a normal person, but I am a profiler, and it was written all over your face.”

You sigh. “I’ve watched enough SVU to know how common his mindset it, but I can’t fucking stand it.” You kick a pebble. “Like, he’s supposed to help protect people, not victimize them further! God, I fucking hate people.”

She puts an arm around your shoulders as the others exit the bar. “Caring so deeply about other people is a good thing,” she tells you. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Gideon gives you a questioning look, and you nod resolutely at him. “I’m good. Let’s go interview a rapist.”

* * * * *

Back at the station, you’re watching from the other side of the glass as Emily and JJ talk to the rapist, Ronnie.

“Mr. Thibideaux,” Emily starts, “we need you to answer a few questions about a disturbance you were involved with in 1998.”

Ronnie looks at her, a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At a bar called Jones,” JJ adds. “It was Mardi Gras.”

“Well, then, I must’ve been drinking some, because I don’t remember a thing,” Ronnie says, that stupid smirk growing wider.

“We just need to know the name of your accuser,” Prentiss tells him.

Ronnie shakes his head. “Look, I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ shakes her head. “The statute of limitations is up,” she says, rubbing her face. “We just need a name.”

“Someone accuses me of rape, I’m gonna remember her name,” Emily says, sitting down across from the rapist.

“Unless you’re used to it,” you grumble to yourself. “Probably raped other women, too.”

“Well what can I tell you, cher?” Ronnie says, slight agitation creeping into his voice. “I guess she didn’t make that good of an impression.”

“Oh, that fucker,” you seethe, fidgeting. Your cross your arms, then uncross them.

“Unlike yourself, right now?” Emily is saying to Ronnie.

“Y/L/N, take a breath,” Hotch says quietly from beside you, his tone soft.

You sigh. “I’m fine,” you tell him. “Just really hate rapists.” You refocus on the interrogation room.

“You know,” Ronnie says, leaning forward, a dangerous glint in his eye, “I’m guessing if someone did do something to that girl that night, then she was probably asking for it. Maybe even liked it.”

“Oh, what a fucking ass hat,” you say. “He’s not even gonna tell us a name!”

“Guy’s not giving up anything,” Detective LaMontagne says from behind you.

“Reid, after the double murder, what was the Ripper’s next move?” Hotch asks.

“He mutilated and dismembered Mary Kelly in her one-room flat until she was unrecognizable,” Reid reports. “It’s believed to be his most vicious kill of all.”

“He had privacy,” you say.

“And time to torture his victim before killing her,” Morgan adds. “Maybe we’re not too late.”

You shift your attention back to the interrogation room, where JJ is showing Ronnie pictures of the victims. “She murdered these men, and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before she works her way back to the one she really wants to kill.” Ronnie looks at her abruptly, alarm written all over his face.

“She make an impression now?” Emily asks.

Ronnie swallows. “Sarah Danlin.”

You turn and walk away, grabbing a drink of water while JJ calls Garcia. She’s hanging up when you return, water in hand. “We got her,” she tells you.

* * * * *

At Sarah Danlin’s apartment, the team spreads out in groups to cover all entrances. You’re paired up with Hotch and Morgan, while Reid and Detective LaMontagne take the back entrance.

“Sarah Danlin! FBI! Open up!” Morgan yells. When there’s no answer, Hotch gives him a nod and he kicks the door in. You follow behind Hotch and Morgan, gun drawn, as you check each room.

“Clear!” you call out.

“Clear!” Morgan shouts.

You meet in the living room. “She’s definitely not here,” you say.

“Guys, there are some ripperologists who speculate that Mary Kelly was actually killed in a flat that Jack the Ripper rented for the night,” Reid says.

Morgan takes out his phone. “I’m gonna have Garcia check Sarah Danlin’s credit card accounts. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can trace her room back to her charge cards.”

You look closer at the coffee table. “Look.”

“Souvenirs,” Hotch says, picking up a paper. “These are from bars in the French Quarter. This is from Mon Cherie.”

Morgan shakes his head. “She’s trolling for victims in the place where it all began.”

“She can’t move on,” Hotch says. “The rape isn’t the whole story. I’ll bet there’s a history of sexual abuse that contributes to her rage as well.”

“It’s almost like by taking on the Ripper persona, she was trying to kill something within herself,” Reid says.

Morgan’s phone rings. He opens it and puts it on speaker. “Yeah, mama, what do you got?”

“Sarah Danlin’s Visa was charged an hour ago at the Royal Ruby Inn,” Garcia tells him.

Morgan smiles. “Ah, baby girl, you never disappoint. Thank you.” He hangs up and looks at the detective.

“That’s two blocks from here,” Detective LaMontagne says.

“Let’s go,” you say, everyone rushing out of the room and back to the SUVs.

It only takes a minute to get to the Inn, and you jump out of the car as soon as it stops, following Hotch at a run. He quickly describes Sarah Danlin to the desk attendant, who directs you to her rented room.

Hotch kicks the door open to find Sarah Danlin standing over a naked man who’s tied to the bed by his wrists. She has a knife in her hand. “FBI!” Hotch shouts.

“Drop the knife!” you tell her.

“Drop the weapon!” Hotch repeats.

“He wanted it,” Sarah says, pointing the knife at the man’s throat. “And he got it.”

“Put it down, now,” Morgan says.

Hotch raises his wrist to his mouth. “We need an EMT tech right away,” he says quietly into the receiver.

Sarah looks over her shoulder, focusing on you. “What are you waiting for?”

Morgan shakes his head. “Ma’am, we don’t want to shoot you,” he says.

She smiles humorlessly, looking at Morgan. “Be such a shame to waste this. Do you want it, too?”

“What we want is for you to please put the knife down,” Morgan says.

“Come on,” Sarah tells him. “Don’t fight it.”

You shake your head. “Sarah, please. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Detective LaMontagne comes into the room, lowering his weapon. “Sarah,” he says carefully. “My name’s William LaMontagne Jr. You knew my daddy?” Sarah’s eyes fill with tears as Detective LaMontagne inches his way closer to her. “Hey there. You trusted him, so trust me.”

“Where is he?” Sarah asks him.

“The storm took him,” the detective tells her. A tear rolls down her cheek. The detective puts a hand out, slowly reaching for the knife. “Come on. It’s over.” Sarah gives him the knife and breaks down, falling into his arms. “It’s over,” he repeats, carrying her out of the room.

You immediately start working to free the victim from his restraints, taking out your knife and slicing though the fabric. “You’re going to be okay,” you tell him as the EMTs rush into the room and begin their assessment.

You follow the EMTs as they load the victim into a stretcher and wheel him out to the ambulance, breaking away from them when you notice JJ and Prentiss pulling up.

“Hey,” you greet them. JJ gives you a nod as she walks over to where the detective is leaning against his car. You smile over at them.

“What’s that look for?” Emily asks, following your line of sight.

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease.

She laughs before her expression turns more serious. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re okay.”

You nod. “I’m good. I just hate that rape isn’t taken seriously a lot of the time. There’s a quote, something along the lines of, ‘rape is the only crime where you have to prove the victim’s innocence.’ I just hate that that’s pretty much true. It doesn’t matter if the victim was walking around naked, as long as they say don’t provide consent, it’s rape.” You sigh. “I’m lucky enough to never have been sexually assaulted, but I know a lot of women who were. Well, you know. I used to know a lot of women who were,” you correct yourself, frowning. “Anyway, as much as I miss my old life, I’m glad I found a new family, too. The BAU and the Jeffersonian team are the only reason I’m able to function, really. I’m not sure what I’d do without you guys.”

She smiles, putting an arm around you. “You’ll never find out.”

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straighttohellbuddy · 2 years ago

Text

die mad about it {Dream/Reader/Sapnap} // Part 2

2. 2021

Summary: A retrospective on the interconnected timeline of Dream, Sapnap, and TV and film star Y/N, via social media.

2021. The year starts with Y/N's recent film racking up nominations during awards season, while Y/N themselves tries to work their way into getting into the DreamSMP. Dream isn't exactly thrilled with this, and he and Y/N appear to start beefing on Twitter. Sapnap moves in with Dream and his still-unknown housemate, but appears to be having a great time there, and Dream, in an interview, reveals that he's not technically single. Ft. mentions of the PSMP

Need to Know: Explicitly Non-Binary!Reader, early-20s!reader, reader is an incredibly well known film & tv star and has been living with Dream for several months/just over a year. Polyamory.

{ masterpost : 2 / 3 }

A/N: 6997 words. OH MY GOD ITS LITERALLY DOUBLE THE LAST ONE WHAT. also pretend its several months ago and i had this done on time please and thank you xx PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I LVOE THIS FIC AND THIS STYLE OF WRITING EVEN IF IT TAKES ME AGES!!

Taglist: @esylwen @ihatesunfl0wers @theghostpeach @rainyaheysoe @magicastle @tidelqnds @icarusthefoolish @randokku @todaynotseen @moyo5653 @kittyfragsmini123666 @lacunaanonymoused @parkerpeanuts @sadredflower0000 @jay-being-weird @ronsbadidea @lacunaanonymoused @dreamtogether2000 @summerknights @mishthemess @lovejoywill @randosposts @stormy-skies-falling @gaysludge @hatchetislostpog @cryinghotmess @boiled-onionrings @busyfangirling12

Taglist is always open! Feel free to message or comment if you’d like to be added! xx

· JANUARY ·

At the beginning of January 2021, Y/N's tweet 'so glad they pushed back the SAG awards to march this year at my request, my boyfriend just moved in so im unavailable for the rest of the month' quickly followed by 'dont worry its not because i carried furniture and hurt my back or anything, my boyfriend helped him with all the heavy lifting, i just want to know i have several weeks to be domestic without being interrupted' caused chaos and confusion on Twitter, and they trended for the following 8 hours. After relative radio silence for twelve hours, the only tweet you chose to interact with was one that asked 'which is the side piece tho', to which you responded 'both i sleep in the middle 💙❤️🖤'.

Y/N also retweets a video originally posted on TikTok by user @.woolfenhawke; the woman in the video has dark skin and is wearing pale yellow pyjamas. The label at the top of the video reads 'millennial celebrity Y/N every single time they open Twitter Dot Com'. She starts facing away from the camera, and turns around suddenly, and the camera zooms in very quickly on her face as she lip-syncs to the audio of Tyler Oakley saying 'Hello LGBT community'.

----

The most popular fandoms in the character tag of Y/N Y/L/N are Actor RPF, HELIX (2020) RPF, Star Wars RPF, X-Men RPF, and American Horror Story (TV) RPF. The most common pairing is tied between Y/N Y/L/N/Amandla Stenberg and Y/N Y/LN/Evan Peters, followed closely by Y/N/Reader. However, since the beginning of January, there has been a steady increase in fan works rated Mature or Explicit featuring polyamorous pairings.

Reposted from Tumblr and quickly growing in popularity is the fanfiction '(in the absence of everything) i promise to keep you warm'. The first chapter was posted on November 24, 2020, one week after HELIX's public premiere, and has updated consistently in the following months. It is ongoing, at 13 chapters and approximately 45,000 words. It has the following tags; Explicit, Actor RPF, Y/N Y/L/N/Chris Evans/Pedro Pascal, Y/N Y/L/N & Amandla Stenberg, Y/N Y/L/N & Oscar Isaac, AU, Assistant!Y/N, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Movie Sets, Secret Relationships, Power Dynamics, Protective Chris Evans, Protective Pedro Pascal, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, D/S Undertones, Service Top, Domestic Fluff, Social Anxiety, press publicity and paparazzi, Red Carpets.

---

Sapnap posts a photo of himself and Patches in order to announce that he's moved in with Dream and Dream's housemate. Not long after the official post goes up, two posts are added to his Instagram story.

The first is an piece of fanart of Y/N's character Woolfe standing back to back with who appears to be Technoblade from the DreamSMP as he's often depicted in fanart. Technoblade is wearing what appears to be the top half of a boar's skull as a mask covering his eyes, while Woolfe is wearing the angular, aesthetically cyberpunk mask that covers their mouth and looks like a wolf's nose and snarling mouth. The background is black while both characters are lit in sharp relief from either side, with Woolfe being lit in neon green, and Technoblade being lit in neon pink. Stretching across the whole middle of the piece in bold, white lettering is the quote 'If you want to be a hero then die like one.' The art piece is in landscape, A3, and framed and hung against a dark wall. The artist of the piece has been tagged, and across the top Sapnap has added 'proof of housemate's 'not a shrine' to technoblade' in pink letters.

The second is of a polaroid stuck to a dark wall, and an unlit but partially used candle at the very bottom of the image. The polaroid is partially obscured as Sapnap appears to have purposefully edited the photo to scribble in black over one of the figures in the photo to hide their identity. What can be seen in the photo is Sapnap, a little blurry, clearly laughing, half turned from the camera and positioned like he's leaning into someone with his arm around them. There is am arm around his shoulder that is unobscured, but their hand is cut out of the image and they are wearing long sleeves, so there is no identifiable features visible. Over the black scribble, in white text; 'a little bit of a shrine ❤️'.

----

"They travel a lot, the housemate travels a lot for work usually," one of the earliest streams Sapnap does after he moves is a somewhat indulgent Q&A while playing Valorant, "in like, chunks of time, a few weeks I guess? But when they're home they're still working, but usually in a way that's, I guess more similar to me and Dream? Like it'd feel weird and, I don't know, like arrogant, I guess? To compare our work? Usually at least. But because of how everything is, you know, a lot of their work is online, and like we have a schedule for who needs the house quiet at what times. That's- that's all I can really say. I know it's vague," he laughs apologetically, "but it has to be." Then, after a few moments of reading through chat he frowns, "can you tell us where housemate is now? I don't know if I'm allowed, hang on," he pulls out his phone and types away, "I'll ask." It doesn't take more than a minute for him to receive a response; "they're on the West Coast, that's all I'm allowed to tell you."

He does not address any of the numerous questions asking him to clarify the Housemate's relationship with Dream or himself.

· FEBRUARY ·

@.dreams-housemate-updates changes their twitter handle to @.dreamnaps-housemate-updates. Their header also changes to the meme image of Bugs Bunny, pointing with both hands to the right, overlaid with the communist flag, with the words "Our Housemate" in the centre.

----

@.YourTwitter: me and the boys at 2am looking for BEANS [Image ID: Y/N, Amandla, and the director of HELIX all posing on the red carpet for the Golden Globes.] | @.YourTwitter: BEANS acquired [Image ID: Two stills from the live broadcast of the Golden Globes, the first one being of Y/N and Amandla in the audience, leaning against one another and clutching each other, beaming and on the verge of tears as they are looking up, presumably at the stage. Y/N has their free hand up and partially covering their mouth. The second is of HELIX's director Robert Eggers on stage having just received the Golden Globe for Best Director of a Motion Picture. He has a hand to his heart and is using the Golden Globe itself in his other hand to point out into the crowd, presumably to Y/N and Amandla.]

HELIX was nominated for 5 Golden Globes in total, and won two; Best Director - Motion Picture, and Best Original Score - Motion Picture.

----

On Valentine's Day, you post one picture to your Instagram story. It's of a nondescript hotel bed covered in red rose petals. The duvet is black and neat, and the only caption you've added is white text highlighted with red in the top right corner; no shitposts today im actually in love.

----

It had been somewhat disheartening to be on set on Valentine's Day knowing you were so far from the two people you loved the most. It's been weeks since you were home, which only made it all the harder. The shoot went well, and you were glad to be messaging Dream and Sapnap through the day, even if you couldn't be near them.

Around lunch they tell you that they're sending flowers to your hotel, that it was meant to be a surprise but they'll need your room number, and that the hotel might call to confirm with you. As much as you love the gesture, it makes you miss them both even more, and you start browsing flights back to Florida on your phone in between takes, fantasizing about having the time to take off and see them.

The hotel calls in the afternoon, and you confirm that anything from your boyfriends has full permission to be placed in your room while you were gone. Sun will be setting in a few hours, there's no time left for your fantasy to come true, not if you wanted to remain professional.

There'd always be next year, you tell yourself.

You message to say that you miss them, and they respond in kind, both quick to assure you that there's always going to be more time, that one day wouldn't matter. Perhaps not in the long run, but today it felt like it did.

So when you get back to your hotel and see the rose petals on your bed, it feels too good to be true.

And when you catch sight of both Dream and Sapnap waiting patiently in the larger living space of the room, you feel yourself begin to tear up. They're both with you immediately, wrapping you up in their arms, endeared as they try and soothe you, murmur for you not to cry.

It's been a long day of heartache, thinking that you'd be without them, so it's all you can do to hold them tightly, a mess of laughter and cathartic tears as you tell them how much you love them both. You hadn't realised just how much you'd missed them until this moment, until you're peppering them with kisses and babbling about how this has gone from the worst day to maybe one of the best of your life.

"So far," Sapnap grins teasingly, kissing your temple. Dream echoes his words, echoes his tone, and you feel yourself growing flustered as your initial wave of shock and awe had died down.

Best day of your life, so far.

· MARCH ·

In early March 2021, the nominations for the 93rd Academy Awards are announced, and HELIX receives 6 nominations; Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score, Best Visual Effects, and Chris Evans is nominated for Best Supporting Actor. Controversy arises, however, as Y/N is also announced as a nominee for Best Actor.

A statement is released by the Academy the day after the nominees were announced, stating the decision as to which category they were nominated in was due to the technical broadness of the category, and that Y/N's team had been contacted prior to the nomination being confirmed.

A day after The Academy releases their statement, Y/N posts two updates to their Instagram story;

1. A blurry selfie taken in bed, sheet pulled up to their neck, giving the camera peace sign. Across their forehead reads 'its an honour to be nominated, im looking forward to the day that there's a category specifically for nonbinary actors and actresses so people like me don't have to be torn to shreds online when people try to acknowledge and appreciate us'.

2. A photo of a mostly empty plate sitting on their bedside table, covered in crumbs, with a knife and fork sitting in the middle. Their hand can be seen giving a thumbs up closer to the camera, and is captioned '"why didn't you respond before now its been two days????" sorry buddy i was getting my shit rocked and eating pancakes in bed. i knew it'd be a hot button issue online so i decided to celebrate the nom first. im allowed to celebrate my achievements ✌️'.

----

@gnflmnop: you remember that one time @.YourTwitter tweeted about the dsmp right before their movie premiered and then Never Again? Did I hallucinate that? | @YourTwitter: my boyfriends bully me whenever I go to tweet about it :( | @YourTwitter: they're mad about who my favourite is (it goes back and forth but they're never happy with who I say 😔) | @.YourTwitter: if y'all knew my boys this would be so much funnier, I promise this is all v lighthearted. | @.gnflmnop: Who's your current fav?? | @.YourTwitter: @.Quackity 🥰 | @.Quackity: HOLY SHIT

· APRIL ·

HELIX ends up winning four of the six Oscars it's nominated for; Best Director, Best Visual Effects, Best Original Score, and Y/N wins Best Actor.

Transcript of Y/N's winning speech from the 93rd Academy Awards for their performance in HELIX:

Before I start, I need to say something to the people like me - non-binary and trans people like me - beyond this room, watching this live or in the future; hi! Look! We can see it now, you can see me; the world is changing and our future is bright! [Brief pause.] Now, on January 4th this year, my ex-manager told me I was an unhireable PR nightmare, and tonight he decides to text me; congrats on the nom, for your own sake don't start a twitter tirade when you lose, Anthony Hopkins is eighty seven, he can't fight back. [They are becoming audibly choked up.] To that I say; don't you wish you put your energy into something useful? [Pause as they compose themselves.] Which is why I'm up here, thanking my amazing manager who actually believes in me, our whole incredible team behind HELIX, especially Rob and Amandla - you should both be up here with me, because I wouldn't be here without either of you. [They take a moment to clutch the Oscar to their chest, looking overwhelmingly grateful.] And the only thing better than this is knowing I get to see my wonderful, supportive, damn amazing partners after. My favourite place in the world is at home with you both, I love you. [Sniffling, they give a watery laugh.] This is a moment, isn't it? This is our moment. Thank you.

Given the immense exposure of The Oscars, Y/N's speech quickly goes viral. The backlash from the conservative side of the internet is immense, however the outpouring of support still manages to dwarf it. It's seen as a cultural reset, with 'the world is changing and our future is bright' being painted across every LGBT+ corner of the internet. Also, both the polyamorous and nonbinary communities specifically appear to adopt the phrase 'this is our moment'.

----

The following interaction occurred during a Just Chatting stream on Wilbur Soot's Twitch channel on the 30th of April, and can be found in the stream's VOD beginning at 53:46.

"Can I share something surreal with you all?" Wilbur asks, tone vaguely bemused as he was streaming with Tommy, Ranboo, and Philza, "lads, chat, can I share the most, I think unexpected reaction I've received after yesterday?"

"Unexpected how?" Ranboo snorts a laugh.

"Like, I think it was the emotion I was going for, but I never expected this person to contact me?"

"Oh interesting, who was it?" Tommy asked excitedly.

"Well, I mean, there's weird ways the SMP kind of breaches containment that makes me think 'ah, people lying for attention on the internet again'," Wilbur begins, and is met with stifled giggles from the others, who seem to know exactly what he means by that sentiment, "which I don't necessarily know why I think that, since most times it's kind of innocuous or makes a roundabout kind of sense, like a politicians kid getting them to tweet at us, but there was something a few months back that I heard about and I was like 'that's absolute bullshit'."

"You do especially seem to get a few weird ones," Phil agrees.

"And I don't usually get star struck; I'm not trying to brag here, but I've had - well, we've all had - some pretty high profile encounters here and there," Wilbur's voice was rising in intensity, as the others voiced their agreement, "but there was an interaction a few months ago, and I kind of shot my shot since I don't use Twitter and had my Discord passed on to this person, and nothing really came of it."

"Who was it, man?!" Tommy groaned, frustrated by Wilbur building up the encounter, much to everyone else's amusement. Wilbur pauses for a moment.

"Yesterday I received my first message from Y/N since we'd connected on Discord, after months mind you, and it's a selfie of them giving me the thumbs up, whilst clearly crying -"

"What?!" Several of the others in the chat exclaimed, Wilbur clearly matching their confused, startled energy.

"Right?! And you wanna know what the caption was? Here, I'll read it to you guys, it says; Wilbur, why am I crying about minecraft ghost."

Silence.

Then;

"Three days ago they won an actual fucking Oscar; what reality am I in right now?" He crows, still clearly baffled.

"That can't be real," Ranboo announced, sounding a little dazed.

"Why is Y/N Y/L/N crying about minecraft ghost, Wilbur?" Tommy practically yelled, "we saw HELIX together with Tubbo the last time I was in Brighton, I refuse to believe fucking Woolfe shed real tears over Ghostbur!" Then, after a beat, "oh God, and it was my fault too! I need to start writing an apology," he's clearly half joking, and the others play along.

"The character Woolfe?"

"No, to Y/N themselves," Tommy says, adding, "maybe if I ask Dream nice enough he'll take it back."

Not long after this conversation occurred live, the following was posted to Twitter;

@.YourTwitter: ooh lads, me and my parasocial relationship might not survive this one omg @.WilburSoot @.philza @.tommyinnit @.ranboo | @.ranboo: [GIF from Y/N's award speech at The Oscars; Y/N is holding their award to their chest, standing behind a podium. The caption at the bottom reads 'This is a moment, isn't it?'.]

And;

@.Dream: despite wishful thinking, no celebrity tears based twitter campaign will make me take back certain SMP based events. in fact if you tried i think id just double down and say certain minecraft ghosts got what was coming to them | @.YourTwitter: @.YourTwitter | @.YourTwitter: see its that easy to @ me. <3 | @.Dream: didn't you win an oscar? please get a hobby | @.YourTwitter: dont vague me just because ur mad ur not my favourite | @.Dream: @.YourTwitter You make me want to smack you sometimes. | @.YourTwitter: hot. dm me. | @.Dream: Why are you like this? | @.YourTwitter: for the bit. <3

· MAY ·

@.enbyhawke: @.DreamWasTaken @.YourTwitter the people have spoken. Link to the Change.org petition 'Let Y/N Join The DreamSMP'] | @.YourTwitter: @.Dream the people have spoken 😌 | @.Dream: @.YourTwitter the people need to be quiet, I already told you no in our DMs. | @.YourTwitter: [GIF from Mean Girls of Regina George, phone to her ear, caption at the bottom reading 'Boo, you whore.']

----

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Other Fandom: HELX (2020), Dream SMP Relationships: Woolfe (HELIX)/Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: Woolfe (HELIX), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: PWP, what is this lol, crack, based on a twitter post, Eric Andre Voice LET ME IN but its woolfe and the dsmp, Power Imbalance, hate fucking, choking, spit, reluctant bottoming, degradation, so close to just writing RPF but im pretending to have dignity, ch 1 is afab!Y/N, ch 2 is amab!Y/N, otherwise the chapters are identical, just like every other smut oneshot with Y/N or their nb characters lol, the Y/N fandom etiquette is beautiful tbh we all know what we're doing here, WAIT c!Dream IS LITERALLY JUST A YOUNG VERSION OF CHRIS EVAN'S CHARACTER OH MY GOD, DOWN TO THE EXPERIMENTING ON PEOPLE AND KILLING THEM AND BRINGING THEM BACK Language: English Series: Part 1 of isn't bite also touch (HELIXsmp) · Next Work -> Stats: Published: 05-15-2021 Words: 4863 Chapters: 2/2

i'll tell you my sins (and you can sharpen your knife) FullContakt

Summary: There's a price to pay for clear intentions. Woolfe understands the roles and rules of this place and is happy to call themselves a villain, however the one who originally chose that title isn't exactly willing to give it up, so Dream decides to find out exactly how far Woolfe is willing to go for it.

Notes: Y/N and Dream's one online interaction makes me laugh so fucking hard, they're both so chaotic, I don't know who is the one with the audacity here. I think they both have far too much. But anyways, since im lowkey obsessed with the few HELIX/DSMP crossovers we already have here (literally never cried as hard as i did finishing starslikerhinestones's Woolfe/Wilbur MASTERPIECE 'a hero's job is to die'. seriously if nothing else please read it for Hawke being THE BEST OLDER SIBLING to tommy, as long as you don't mind tragedy and heartbreak) ANYWAYS seeing that interaction between Y/N and dream just made me think that Woolfe and c!Dream would HATE each other so here, they beat the shit out of each other... and yeh fuck a bit. Enemies-to-enemies-who-hatefuck.

----

Sapnap makes an offhand comment during a stream about how he's missing their housemate since they went to the UK. Dream seems to share this sentiment, joking 'and we didn't even get to swap them for George while they're gone, it's so unfair'. Both seem genuinely disheartened by the housemate's absence, but make a note of how proud they both are of everything the housemate has been doing.

----

From May 20th to May 23rd, the 'PenisSMP' or 'PSMP' trends on Tumblr as a shitpost directed at the Minecraft YouTube community, that flourished on the oft overlooked blogging platform, was quickly co-opted and expounded upon by said community.

In amongst its colourful cast and rapidly developing lore, several real figures were included and adopted into the kayfabe, including current members of the DreamSMP such as Tommyinnit (given the alias 'Wife_Haver' in the PSMP), and ConnorEatsPants, with no significant alterations to his already established character whatsoever, just that he existed in this SMP too. Alongside them, Y/N was quickly adopted into the lore and cast of characters with the in-game alias of '4rs0n_R1sk', as first mentioned in user @.localtubboenthusiast's post;

localtubboenthusiast literally why is anyone surprised that fvckass blew up half the server?? why is ANYONE surprised they keep setting fires??? they were literally hand raised by 4rs0n_R1sk!!! #who is literally being played by one of the most chaotic actors of our generation #this is why dream didn't let Y/N join the dream SMP #hes a coward #psmp #penissmp #penismp #y/n y/l/n #4rs0n_r1sk #fvckass the sheep #fuckass the sheep

And the follow-up question they received;

Anonymous asked: WAIT HOLD UP THATS WHERE I KNOW 4RS0N'S VOICE??? ITS Y/N????

localtubboenthusiast answered: yeah apparently they're friends with penis irl and asked if they could join out of spite after the whole dream refusing to let them into the dsmp thing 😂 can't believe they literally don't even stream they're just there lol

#also in case it wasn't clear i AM a PenisUnavailable And ShittyFartBaby69 Are Actually Y/N's Boyfriends truther #4rs0n_R1sk #Y/N Y/L/N #PSMP #penismp #penissmp

Fanart of '4rs0n_R1sk' usually depicts Y/N as either their character Woolfe from HELIX, or Contakt from The New Mutants with a warm colour pallet and fire powers. They are usually drawn with 'Fvckass the Sheep', 'PenisUnavailable', or 'TurboThruster'.

----

@.YourTwitter: went to dublin and all I got was spit on. they give you exactly what you ask for here, amazing customer service 🥰 | @.Ic3_Squared: Hey bestie some thoughts should stay in your head ❤️

· JUNE ·

I Spent A Day With DREAM was posted to YouTube by Anthony Padilla on the 9th of June, and the following exchange begins around minute 5;

Dream: God it's so weird, actually, because there's been these huge changes in my personal life that have happened, like, parallel to the whole YouTube thing, but are still significantly effected by it, if that makes sense? Anthony: What kind of changes to do you mean? Dream: Like, uh, I'm not fully sure if I'm able to talk about this, though I guess if this bit makes it into the video I've confirmed that I am allowed to actually talk about it, [Dream laughs] but I feel very lucky to currently be in the best relationship of my life, but like, I feel like that would have happened, like me- me and my- you know, [Dream stumbles over his words a little, as if to purposefully dance around the precise wording of the relationship] that would still be happened even if I never blew up.

----

📌 Pinned Tweet @.dreamnaps-housemate-updates: If Dream is dating his housemate that would be news to us too. We don't have any more information than anyone else on this matter. Please stop asking us, thank you.

----

On June 26th Twitter user @.goldenghostgirl asks you if you'd be watching Minecraft Championship (Pride), and who you'd be watching. You respond less than half an hour later with three consecutive tweets; 'me and my parasocial relationship will be watching pink parrots 😌🦜💓', then 'only because @.smajor didnt invite me to play which isn't his fault since he doesn't know I'm secretly very good at minecraft.... but just so you know... for next pride... 👀 👉👈' and finally 'im actually being legit here, minecraft as a game is far bigger in our house than I really let on, I'd love to prove my boyfriends' mentoring has paid off 💖'.

For MCC Pride, the team Pink Parrots is made up of SolidarityGaming, Grian, Wilbur Soot, and Technoblade. Highlights from their team during the event include;

Wilbur makes a point to say hello to Y/N at the beginning of the event as he figures they're probably watching. When providing clarification for the situation to the rest of his team in the VC he refers to it as 'mutually parasocial'. Wilbur also jokes about becoming an honourary member of Y/N's polycule. Y/N does not publically comment on any of this; it is not made clear if they saw it.

Technoblade mentions that Dream has been DMing him during the event, and that both he, and his housemate who isn't Sapnap, but is just happy to be here, are cheering them on.

Wilbur's fire alarm chirping aggressively, much to his growing frustration, until he has to disconnect as there is apparently an actual fire emergency in his building. He had to talk to the firefighters who arrived on scene in order to confirm that he was safe to re-enter the building. He is able to rejoin MCC.

In Wilbur's absence, there are several suggestions for a temporary replacement; Technoblade suggests Dream, Grian mentions that Y/N has put their hand up on Twitter, while Wilbur himself suggests Philza Minecraft. Philza ultimately becomes Wilbur's temporary replacement.

Philza breaking down with laughter when he reads your follow up tweet; "Don't look at me, I retract my statement. Coach, I was wrong I'm not ready for the big leagues, you shouldn't put me on. If you have the choice of Philza Minecraft of course you choose Philza Minecraft." He then adds, as his laughter dies down, that he understands now why Wilbur had called his interactions with you 'surreal'.

After the event concluded, you post one final tweet; "if any interviewer ever brings up today I WILL lie."

· JULY ·

On July 14, the final episode of Loki is released on Disney+. During one of the final scenes, after the timelines have all split and Loki is making his way to try and warn Mobius about what had happened, we see Y/N being dragged through the facility, clearly reprising their role as the mutant Contakt (Itta Marie) from 2020's New Mutants.

An hour after the premiere of the episode, Y/N tweeted twice;

1. 'oh yeah lol should update my IMDB about that'.

2. 'nd yeah dad acquired, for those keeping score at home' [Image ID: Y/N and Tom Hiddleston in costume as their respective characters Contakt and Loki on the set of the Loki series. They appear to be in an animated discussion between takes.

----

@.YourTwitter: there's no irl sdcc so no-one can stop me from cosplaying and doing some sort of Q&a.. need suggestions. And questions.

@.YourTwitter: imagine if I became a twitch streamer lol. anyways q&a here [Link to user PR Nightmare on Twitch.]

"Tommyinnit in my chat? Is this real?" You found yourself beaming with delight, "do you wanna join? DM me your Discord on Twitter, you're awesome, dude!"

"Are you cosplaying Ghostbur?" Is the first thing Tommy asks the minute you voice call him.

"I am!" You tell him with delight.

"Why?"

"I miss him," you admit freely. Tommy snorts a laugh, but the conversation trails off until, "it's so cool to talk to you finally, both my boyfriends speak so very highly of you."

"You're... a fan of mine?"

"I like your videos, yeah," you agree without hesitation, "and your arc is super compelling to watch on the SMP."

Tommy goes very quiet for several long moments before you hear faintly 'ow... ow... ow...'.

"Are you okay?" You ask, concerned, and Tommy hums for a moment.

"Sorry, just had to pinch myself a few times," then even as your laughing fondly, he continues, "still not convinced this is a real conversation I'm having."

----

@.dreamnaps-housemate-updates posted a clip from Sapnap's then-latest Minecraft stream on July 28th with the caption 'i love the way they love';

"What's been your favourite part of living with me so far?" Dream's voice is saccharine and teasing as he asks Sapnap live on stream.

"God, you're so needy," Sapnap laughs, though his tone is fond. While his focus remains primarily on his screen where he's playing Minecraft, occasionally his gaze will flick to something to his left, off camera.

"Thank you," Dream sounds quite smug, "but is that really your favourite?" In the silence that follows, Dream's tone takes on that saccharine tone as he prompts again.

"I mean if you twist it the right way, like with the right words," Sapnap sounds uncharacteristically soft, almost embarrassed, and seems to be intently focusing on his game with a faint flush to his cheeks.

"Twist what? Me being needy?" Dream half laughs, but Sapnap continues, sincere.

"I mean, I obviously wouldn't actually word it like that, but you're obviously the best part of living with you," he admits, a warm silence follows, and finally Sapnap looks directly at whatever is to his left, though he still appears to be addressing Dream when he speaks; "I'm not mentioning our housemate because they already look like they're a half second away from saying something emotional despite the fact that I'm live," he warns pointedly with a grin, as if to stave off the housemate in question. Then, after a moment, he softens his tone and expression considerably, practically radiating affection, "but you're the other best part about living here."

----

@.StardewwSoot: how long have @.YouTwitter and @.Callahan been mutuals? 👀👀

· AUGUST ·

@.YourTwitter: in Switzerland, finally able to add another Hot Hollywood Dad to my collection of father figures @.VancityReynolds

@.YourTwitter: ALSO PREMIERE OF FREE GUY AT THE LOCARNO FILM FESTIVAL!! DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE LEAD WITH THAT!!

----

During an interview as part of Free Guy's press junket, an interviewer asks Joe Keery and Ryan Reynolds if either of them had met Y/N's partners.

"No, but I'm sure they're having a great time in Canada with my high school girlfriend," Ryan says without missing a beat as his younger costars break out in laughter. All three of them are grinning, a clearly easy comradery between them all, even as Y/N gives him a shove and insists their boyfriends are real. "Oh yeah, then what are their names?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I literally can't," you admit, a little sheepish, even as Ryan loudly proclaims that you're not making a strong case for yourself, "I wish- dude, I promise I wish I could tell you, but you wouldn't even begin to believe why I can't!" You insist once more.

----

@.yourtwitter: my toxic trait is every time I miss my boyfriends I read fanfiction about them and send them links to my favourites | @.yourtwitter: the reviews are in folks

[screenshot of a group chat titled '🎉 No Noise Complaints Since 8/23 🎉'. cat daddy: [screenshot of above tweet] cat daddy: your toxic trait is being funny when we're not able to publicly respond H0TB0I: your toxic trait is never specifying when you're missing us or being a menace Ryan Reynolds Lover: ????? cat daddy: @H0TB0I cranky because you skipped the tags and read mpreg aren't you Ryan Reynolds Lover: oh lol yeah no I was just being a menace when I sent that sorry 😅❤]

| @.asheeberree: WAIT PEOPLE WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT YOUR BOYFRIENDS??? WHO ARE YOU DATING??

Less than an hour later, Sapnap tweets out "our housemate just said 'pass me your phone I want to cause problems on purpose' so that's the only context I can give for whatever the next tweet is ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯" less than three minutes later, the following tweet is posted to Sapnap's alt account:

@.sapnapalt: dreamnap housemate here hello sap's twitter, I have a question. why are y'all sleeping on omega!dream and alpha!sap as concepts? I'm absconding with his phone so you have time to answer and I can see your responses before he deletes this 😘

· SEPTEMBER ·

A selection of articles and quizzes from Buzzfeed.com tagged Y/N Y/L/N in the month of September, 2021;

If Ever We Have To Elect A Representative For All Millennials, Here's My Pitch For It To Be Y/N

(Quiz) Plan Your Mission And I'll Tell You Who In The Mandolorian's Crew Would Be Your Bestie

10 Most Plausible Potential Secret Beaus For Y/N (And The Hottest Fanfiction For Each To Prove It)

(Quiz) Plan Your Ideal Date To Find Out Which Of Y/N's Hot Hollywood Father Figures Is Your Daddy

This Talented Artist Does Everything Right In Their Artwork Showcasing Their Fancast for The Breakfast Club In 2021

· OCTOBER ·

On October 3rd, you tweeted in rapid succession 'Callahan's my best friend now', 'hacker voice: im in', '@.Quackity heyyyy what are u doing rn? u free buddy?' and then a link to your Twitch account, where you were live on the Dream SMP.

The following is one of many short clips that you liked on Twitter after your Stream ended;

"Hey look at you go," Quackity laughs "you know your way around here better than I do; you weren't lying about watching us it seems."

"Yeah, well I play quite a bit with my boyfriends, since it's something they're really into, and they really got me into the SMP in the first place; they've been invested in this since day one," you said, smiling warmly before you leaned close to your camera and mic, "and now chat, you're gonna go ahead and clip that for me, and post it to twitter, so they can see it."

----

Dream and Sapnap both post photos to Instagram of several Halloween costumes they wear together. Most of the photos are just of the two of them, always with Dream entirely covered to continue obscuring his identity, but the final photo of both photosets is one of the housemate, for the first time in record.

They appear to be wearing a black hoodie, black gloves, black jeans, and appear to have borrowed the mask Dream has worn previously.

In Dream's Instagram post, the housemate is looking directly down into the digital camera they have around their neck, clearly having been taking the photos for Dream and Sapnap. The mask is lifted off of their face and sits on top of their head, however with the angle they are looking, the mask completely obscures their face and smiles directly at the camera.

In Sapnap's post, the setting is different to any of the other photos, as it appears to have been taken in a living room. Dream is still wearing the black hoodie and Squid Game mask, while the housemate appears to have fallen asleep with their head in his lap. Dream's mask is on the arm of the sofa, as is what appears to be a bright green hoodie. The housemate's hood is up while they're laying with their back to the camera so their face isn't visible. Dream is resting a hand on their hip and has his phone in the other, seemingly still using it despite his mask.

On Halloween itself, Y/N posts an image of themselves against a black wall dressed the same way as Dream appears in a few of the earlier photos he'd posted of himself, with a green hoodie, completed with a large, white, smiling mask. Both on Instagram and Twitter the photos is captioned 'this is my official apology to @.DreamWasTaken for breaking into his server'. Dream responds on Twitter telling you 'you're on thin ice....... lucky you're almost as cute as i am in that fit'.

· NOVEMBER ·

On November 11th, the trailer for the 15th season of sitcom 'It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia' is uploaded across the series' various social media platforms. The clip, that lasts just over one minute, appears to take place in Dublin, and includes indications that Y/N will play a reoccurring character throughout the season.

The two most notable clips are;

'Sweet Dee' seems gleeful as she informs Y/N that they are a great assistant, before immediately spitting upon them.

And;

"So we need you to clarify which of us is gay -" Dennis posed the question to Y/N standing close beside his sister.

"Mac, right? He's the gay, isn't he?"

"Yes," Dennis frowns, "but he likes men, and you are -" he gestures to their body, "not. However, if we," he gestures between himself and Dee, "both are trying to sleep with you, then one of us is gay," he paused, visibly deliberating, "or, well, not gay, but also not straight, since that would make this much easier for me, but for me to be straight you'd have to be a woman and you are -" again, he gestures to their body, "not..." Dennis clasped his hands together, tone growing almost furiously frustrated, as if at Y/N themselves, "so now, you beguiling little minx, have made us both potentially neither gay nor straight, you have turned us into Schrodinger's Fruits!" Waiting, breathing hard at the end of his outburst, it cuts to Y/N, visibly confused by the situation, brow furrowed.

Not long after the clips are posted, you retweet it with the caption 'show with the most BDE (big dad energy)' and a photo of yourself on set in Dublin in the middle of a cheesy group hug between the five lead actors of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Not long after, the show's official twitter responds with;

@.AlwaysSunny: Welcome to the family! [ID: Four stills from the upcoming season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia; 1. Dennis clearly having taken Y/N by surprise, grabbing them by the shoulders and kissing them. Neither appears to be enjoying themselves; Dennis's entire expression is scrunched up like he's smelled something awful, while Y/N is so tense their arms are throw out to the side. 2. Dee and Y/N nose to nose, both staring intensely into each others eyes, the tips of their tongues awkwardly touching where they're poking out of their otherwise closed mouthes. 3. Charlie and Y/N both covered in mud, fully clothes in a bog up to their waists, passionately making out. 4. Mac leaning against a bar counter from behind it, beaming brightly at Y/N who is slouched at the back. Mac is gesturing proudly to four different coloured liquor bottles lined up in the order yellow, white, purple, black, thus making a side-on nonbinary flag. Y/N is giving the display a tired smile.]

----

@.YourTwitter: I honestly can't believe that on Halloween I celebrated a year with my dream boi, and like a week later I got to celebrate again with hot boi, just before the anniversary of HELIX. | @.YourTwitter: everything has happened so much this year, Im so proud of all the wonderful people in my life and all the projects we've worked so hard on!! | @.YourTwitter: omg this might have been the best year of my life..... | @.Dream: so far. | @.Sapnap: So far. | @.YourTwitter: @.Sapnap @.Dream ur both so right,, best year of my life So Far 😌

· DECEMBER ·

December 2021 is surprisingly quiet.

At the beginning of the month you announce that since you've actually got some time off, you're going to be stepping back from social media to focus on spending time on your partners and yourself. Many voice their support for you, including both Dream and Sapnap.

Sapnap streams far more frequently than Dream, and it's notable that he seems incredibly bright in all December streams, even moreso than usual.

Dream does two Twitter Spaces during the month, and in both he sounds practically giddy, explaining that both he and Sapnap are glad to have their housemate home for the holidays.

----

The Archive Of Our Own tag 'Clay | Dream/Sapnap/HousemateWasTaken' has 98 works by the end of 2021. The fanfiction with the highest kudos in this tag is 'Tommy's Guide to Imports and Exports', which is part 3 of user alliumc4t's series 'The Kids Aren't Alright'. This series revolves around the romantic relationship between Dream, Sapnap, and their housemate, whilst also becoming legal guardians of Tommyinnit, Tubbo_, and Ranboo. The series is still labelled as ongoing, and contains the following fics;

'Ohana' Isn't A Real Word

Blessed Be The Boys Time Can't Capture

Tommy's Guide to Import and Exports

Time's Arrow (The Achilles Heel)

The Only Normal Person In This Whole Damn Building

Flags and Other Decorations

----

And finally, to book end the year, Y/N posted the following Tweet just after midnight on New Year's Eve:

For all you asking, the boys were each other's New Year's kiss, I gave our cat a smooch on her little fuzzy noggin. Good start to the year all around. 💖

#dream x reader #sapnap x reader #dream imagine #sapnap imagine #dream x reader x sapnap #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp x reader #cc!dream x reader #cc!dream imagine #cc!sapnap x reader #cc!sapnap imagine #cyltlanp #Spotify

140 notes · View notes

gaysimpsstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good!

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has.

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean.

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut.

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?”

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you.

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him.

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS).

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!”

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected.

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days.

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose.

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed.

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you.

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough.

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses.

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day.

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off.

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard

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middleearthpixie · 3 years ago

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After the Fire ~ Chapter Twenty

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Jasna confronts Thorin about Miss Whitbow…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Dís, Óin, Kíli, Fíli, Narnerra, Shall Whitbow

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,209

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Jasna was going to vomit.

No. No, she wasn’t.

Wait…

She could only stare at the beautiful blonde smiling up at Thorin. His intended.

The intended he’d never once thought to mention to her? The intended he didn’t seem to think about as he was making love to Jasna not twenty-four hours earlier?

“Jasna? Are you all right? You look green.”

“I’m f-f-f-fine, thank you.” Jasna forced a smile to her lips as she turned toward Narnerra. “I should go f-f-find Fíli and—well, no, I don’t suppose I have to find him. I know where he is, unless s-s-s-something very dr-dr-dr-dr—terrible h-h-h-has h-h-h-happened. So, l-l-let m-m-m-m—oh!”

“Jasna, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, it wh-wh-what it is. Nothing a’tall. Excuse me.” Ducking her head, Jasna shoved by Narnerra and practically ran for the infirmary. The last thing she wanted or needed was Thorin spotting her and coming over to tell her—

To tell her what?

That he’d lied to her? That he’d pretended she was something to him that she wasn’t in reality?

That he’d marry that perfect little blonde dwarrowdam?

She made it to her cozy little room at the back of the infirmary, closed the door, leaned back against it, and let out a shaky sigh. She was such a fool, to think Thorin actually felt something for her. That she was far more than just a convenience. That he wasn’t simply using her.

Why hadn’t he told her he had an intended?

Why did he never once mention her by name? Not even in passing. Not even in the grips of fever, when he rambled on about this dwarf and that one. Not once did the name Shael Whitbow pass his lips.

Her eyes stung. Her throat closed.

The tears came hot and fast and she slid down the door to sink to the floor, burying her face in her hands as she did. She was so very stupid. Ormir was right. She was stupid and silly and vain and a total idiot to think the king of Erebor would ever want a stammering… peasant for anything more than a brief carnal interlude to satisfy base urges.

Amrâlimê.

He shook his head. “There have been no other women, Jasna. Only you.”

Lies, most likely. Lies told to a simpering fool in order to get what he wanted.

They’d worked. She’d let him use her. She’d been so great a fool, to think it was anything more than that. To think she was anything more to him.

Fool.

“What are you doing, Thorin?”

He looked up at Dís’ low, almost inaudible whisper, and offered up a confused look. “I’m having a glass of wine, why?”

“No, I mean with—” she bobbed her head toward her right, where Shael sat laughing with Bifur and Bofur—“Miss Whitbow? What are you doing?”

“I’m not following you, Dís?”

She sighed. “Where is Miss Stoneham?”

“In her chambers, I’d imagine.” He tried to keep his tone as nonchalant as he could, but truth be told, he wondered where she’d gotten to as well, as he’d hoped to see her when she returned from her outing to Dale. But, when he’d poked his head into the infirmary, her door was closed and she was nowhere to be found on the floor. And since he couldn’t very well knock on her door without arousing suspicion…

“What is going on with the two of you?”

“Me and Miss Stoneham?”

The look she shot him plainly said she thought he was either stupid or had lost his mind. Or perhaps both. “Thorin.”

“There is nothing going on with her, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Don’t treat me like a fool, Thorin. I know what I saw the other afternoon. And I heard you came to her defense this morning when one of Dáin’s men insulted her.”

“Of course I did. I wasn’t about to let it stand. She did nothing to deserve either Ormir’s wrath or his cruelty.”

She leveled a long look at him, one that almost made him squirm, for it felt very much like the same stare his mother would shoot him when she’d known he’d been up to mischief and tried to get him to confess.

Well, he was no longer a boy and Dís was not his mother and he owed her nothing. “What? Why do you stare like that?”

“She would be good for you, you know.”

Yes. Jasna was perfect for him. Save for one small problem.

“Thorin, I thought you said you’d show me around?” Shael came over to them, her blue eyes warm and friendly. “I mean, unless the two of you are discussing something of importance. In which case, I can wander about on my own. We’ll just have to hope I don’t become hopelessly lost.”

“Actually, we—” Dís began.

“Were just finished,” he broke in, rising and glaring at Dís as he did so, “so yes, of course I will.”

He felt Dís’ eyes almost burning holes in his back as Shael slipped her arm through his. “Thorin, we need to discuss this,” she said softly.

“No,” he told her over his shoulder, “we do not. Mind your own matters, little sister, and leave me to mine.”

She scowled at him, but he ignored it as he focused instead on Shael. “There isn’t much to see as yet, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right,” she hugged his arm against her breast, “I’m just glad to be here, with you. I was counting the days from the time you left until the missive arrived that you and your men were here safe and sound and that you’d defeated Smaug. I don’t think I’ve ever worried about anyone the way I worried for you.”

He tried to ignore the guilt swelling within his gut. He should explain to Shael about Jasna, and to Jasna about Shael, had to somehow make Jasna understand he hadn’t expected Shael to travel from Ered Luin to Erebor, hadn’t expected to find himself in the very situation he was currently in.

And now that he was in it, he had no idea how to get out of it. At least, not without making everyone around him angry.

“What is this?” Shael’s melodic voice jolted him from his troubled thoughts as they reached what had been the Gallery of Kings and was now more of a mess than a gallery at all. Several of the past kings remained on their obsidian pedestals, but his grandfather Thrór, whose statue had been the main focal point of the gallery, was missing, his pedestal held only dust and crumbling stone.

He sighed softly. “This was the Gallery of Kings. My grandfather, my great-grandfather, my forbears were all here at one point. The kings of Erebor, going back to the first one, were cast here in gold. Unfortunately, only some remain.”

She looked around, her expression one of slight confusion, and she gestured to the empty pedestal. “Who stood there?”

Embarrassment swirled through him. Where he hadn’t minded telling Jasna what happened to the golden statuary, he just didn't feel much like getting into with Shael. In fact, he just wanted to see her back to the Great Hall and go find Jasna. He had to, before she saw him with Shael, before she overheard anyone speaking of Shael and why she was there. He had to explain why he hadn’t mentioned Shael to her and why he hadn’t mentioned her to Shael.

Mahal, he’d created quite the mess for himself. Kakhaf. He was such an idiot. And a coward. Now was the time to do just that and tell her.

“That’s… a story best saved for another time,” he replied slowly. He drew in a deep breath. “But, there is something I do need to tell you—”

“It has to do with the dragon, doesn’t it?”

She didn't wait for him to confirm or deny her words, but instead tightened her hold on him. “Please don’t feel you must tell me, then. I can only imagine how terrible those memories are for you. The dragon. The Battle of the Five Armies. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to relive them for my amusement.”

“Which I do appreciate. But, there is—”

“I am a bit tired from all that traveling.” Her head came to rest against his arm, just as Jasna had done the other night in the kitchen. Hopefully she didn't notice how he tensed at the gesture. Instead, she sighed softly. “Would you mind walking me back?”

“Not at all.”

They made their way back to the Great Hall, where Dís, Dwalin, and Balin all still sat at their table. Dís looked up with a smile that quickly faded as her gaze slid from Shael to him. “Thorin, is everything all right?”

“It’s fine, Dís. I was just giving Miss Whitbow a little bit of a tour.”

“We went into the Gallery of Kings, which is oddly missing a king at the moment.” A silvery laugh accompanied Shael’s words.

Dwalin let out a snort. “The king is now the floor.”

Shael turned to him. “I beg your pardon?”

Thorin shot Dwalin a look, which Dwalin promptly ignored as he barreled on. “We melted Thrór down in a foolish attempt at drowning the dragon.”

Shael looked from him up at Thorin. “Is that true? Did you drown the dragon in gold? Is that how you slayed it?”

“Not exactly drowned him, no,” Thorin hedged, his face growing warm. “We did submerge him in it, however.”

“And just served ta make him madder.”

Thorin’s gut clenched sharply at the flat, toneless words. “It was a foolish plan, no doubt.”

“Ah, it was our only option, though.” Dwalin looked up and there was no trace of resentment or anger in either his face or his voice as he added, “We had no choice. No’ if we wanted ta get out of there alive.”

“He had you trapped?” Genuine horror laced through Shael’s words and her eyes went almost perfectly round. “You had to be terrified!”

“Thorin?” Dwalin shook his head. “The lad doesn’t know the meaning o’ the word. No, he kept a calm, cool head and—”

“He unleashed Smaug on Esgaroth instead,” Thorin finished with a no little bitterness in his voice. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t about to let Dwalin paint a portrait of events that never happened. Not when everyone but Shael knew the truth. He was vain, but not vain enough to allow her to believe a lie.

“Thorin, are you all right?” Dís started to rise.

“I’m fine. Just tired, so if you will all excuse me, I’ll bid you a good night.”

He didn't wait for any responses, but turned and strode out of the Great Hall and straight to his flat, where he closed the door, leaned back against it, and let out a low, heavy sigh. Not even a day had passed since he carried Jasna through the doorway into his bedroom, pressed her down into his bed, and lost himself in her.

And now? Now he wanted to go up to her room just off the infirmary and do the same. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t have done it the previous night, and he could never do it going forward, either.

And it left him feeling emptier than he had in a long time.

Jasna couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them—Thorin and Miss Whitbow—strolling arm in arm. They were the perfect couple. Her delicate pale beauty complemented Thorin’s dark handsomeness.

And most of all?”

She was also a dwarf.

“She’s from Ered Luin, Jasna. She’s Thorin’s intended.”

Thorin’s intended. The woman who would be his wife. The one who was acceptable to be his wife.

Jasna’s stomach twisted and a sour taste flooded her mouth. Her eyes stung with tears for probably the fiftieth time that night. They spilled silently from the corners of her eyes, slid down along her cheekbones, into her hair. It wasn’t fair. It simply was not fair that she’d found the one who made her heart beat faster, the one who made her feel more alive than she ever had before, the one who seemed to understand her.

And it was all only an illusion. He knew the entire time he belonged to another. He’d used her. She shouldn’t be sad, she should be furious.

Perhaps tomorrow she would be. As for tonight? Her heart was broken and the jagged shards felt as if they were slicing her innards with every breath she drew. She’d been such a fool, letting herself come to care for him. The Men of Dale were correct—dwarves were selfish and greedy and cared about no one else.

And she couldn’t even tell anyone what had happened between them. No one could ever know.

Somehow, she managed to fall into a restless, fitful sleep, and when Narnerra came banging on the door, it took every ounce of will Jasna possessed to not snarl at the healer to leave her alone. It wasn’t Narnerra’s fault. It wasn’t Óin’s fault. Nor was it Fíli or Kíli’s.

The blame rested solely on the broad, strong shoulders of Thorin Durin.

And thankfully he was no longer in the infirmary, so she didn’t have to worry about coming face to face with him. So, her heart heavy, her feet leaden, she washed and dressed, tugged her hair back into its usual messy knot, and stepped out into the infirmary.

Although she didn't expect to see Thorin, she still breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't there. In fact, Kíli and Fíli were the only remaining dwarves. She paused, then returned to her room for their gifts, so she could give them to the boys when they awoke.

With only two patients remaining, and only one of whom was still seriously injured, rounds were no longer necessary. Óin sat at his desk, going through paperwork of some sort. Narnerra looked up from cupboard she was rummaging about in and said, “How are you this morning, Jasna?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you certain you’re all right?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

Narnerra sighed softly, glancing over her shoulder at Óin, then closed the cupboard. “Come with me, love. There’s something I need to ask you and I’d rather not be overheard.”

“Of course.” Jasna set the knitting needles and dark chocolate on the counter and followed Narnerra down the narrow corridor toward the door.

Narnerra pushed open the door and they stepped out into the courtyard. Hints of frost clung to the tree branches, but so did the buds that would be leaves in only a few weeks. Bits of spring already showed itself in the grass that was now more green than brown, in those buds, and in the air itself.

“Narnerra, w-what is it?”

Narnerra turned toward her, her expression serious. “I needed to speak with you about His Majesty.”

Hopefully, her flinch wasn't as obvious as it felt, and as Jasna’s cheeks grew hot, she could only cross her fingers that her blush wasn’t as obvious either. Trying to keep her voice light, she answered, “About wh-wh-what?”

“I know you’ve spent quite a bit of time with him, and his nephews, and you’ve done excellent work. With them, as well as the others.

“But, I couldn’t help but notice how quickly he came to your defense where Ormir was concerned, and while that is good, I could’t help but notice a hint of tension in the air between you and him whilst you were at Kíli and Fíli’s bedside. And I don’t mean angry tension.”

Jasna’s stomach roiled under the weight of Narnerra’s knowing blue eyes, but she would confess to nothing. “I’m afraid I d-d-don’t know what you m-m-mean by tension.”

“Jasna,” Narnerra let out a soft sigh, her eyes filled with a motherly concern, “you understand, he is the king. There can be nothing between you and him.”

Jasna’s cheeks grew warmer. “I d-d-don’t understand.”

“I mean, it would be understandable if you should think he might… well… one of his strengths has always been how he sees everyone as his equal. Titles and the like matter very little to him. And anyone would understand if you felt that perhaps there was more than friendship behind his words or actions. It’s only natural. He’s charming when not being a grouch, and he is handsome, and no one would fault you in the slightest for reading too much into his words or his actions.”

Jasna pressed her lips together as the image of Thorin looming over her in his bed, kissing her as he began thrusting slid through her mind. “I be-beg your pa-pa-pardon, Narnerra, but I am not s-s-s-so great a f-f-f-fool where he is concerned. I know there are rules.”

“I’m not concerned with rules, Jasna. I’m concerned with your well-being. It’s frightening being away from home, and in a wholly unprecedented situation besides. It would be perfectly understandable, but you need know that it could never come to pass. Especially now that Miss Whitbow is here. We weren’t at all certain she’d come, but now that she has—”

Jasna fought off a flinch. “I understand that. Tr-tr-truly, I do. And w-w-worry not, for I am under no d-d-d-delusions. His Majesty is simply being k-k-kind.”

A look of relief swept across Narnerra’s face. “I am relieved to hear that. I like you, Jasna. I’ve no wish to see you hurt, you know. And, well… as I said, Thorin knows how to charm when he’s of a mind to.”

“I app-app-appreciate your concern.”

“Good. Now, why don’t we go and see if those boys are awake yet? I give it half an hour before Kíli is hounding Óin about letting him leave.”

“Is Óin of a mind to l-let him leave?”

“I think he’s getting close to it, yes.” As she spoke, Narnerra tugged open the door to go back inside. “Considering how seriously wounded he was, it’s nothing short of a miracle that he’s bounced back so quickly. Which makes me think the she-elf worked a bit of magic on that ice and that Óin wasn't exaggerating when he spoke of what she’d done in Esgaroth. It’s the only thing that makes sense. By all rights, Kíli’s wounds should have been fatal.”

“Are you wishing me away, Narnerra?” Kili’s voice greeted them, followed by him twisting to peer over the head of his bed at them. “Have I been so great a test to you?”

“You’ve not, lad, and you know it.” Narnerra told him with a motherly smile. “Although you do have a way of working my last nerve every now and again.”

His grin widened. “It makes you miss me when I’ve gone.”

“We w-will miss you,” Jasna told him, moving to get the chocolate and needles. She set the small box holding an equally small, but solid, block of chocolate on his chest, taking care not to let it come to rest on his wounds. “This sh-should keep you craving-free for qu-qu-quite a while.”

His eyes lit up as he opened the box. “How much is this?”

“Half a pound.”

His smile grew wider still. “Marry me, Miss Stoneham. You’ve won my heart with this.”

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that. She has finally come around to allowing Tauriel to pay us a visit.”

Jasna froze at the low growling pull of Thorin’s voice, every hair on her body prickling to life. She turned and as her gaze alit on him, her eyes stung once more. Heat swept through her but she mangled to hold his stare as she said, “G-g-g-good morning, Your Majesty.”

“Good morning, Miss Stoneham. How do you fare today?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She turned away to check on Fíli, breathing a silent sigh of relief to see him awake. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said with a cheeriness she hardly felt. “How are you this morning?”

“Itchy.”

“Ah, I have just the th-th-thing.” She moved back to retrieve the knitting needles and when she returned, she pressed them both into his hand. “Be very careful with these, remember. You have several stitches in your thighs and you do not wi-wish to snag them.”

Fíli smiled, and for the first time since he’d woken in the infirmary, this smile reached his pale eyes. “Thank you so very much, Miss Stoneham. You’ve no idea how I appreciate this.”

“Of course I do. When I was nine, I broke my fibula. That’s th-the small bone in your lower leg. I was in a c-c-cast for weeks. Th-that’s how I l-l-l-learned the knitting needle trick.”

His smile widened. “So, you do know how much I appreciate it, then.”

“I absolutely do.”

“Thank you again.”

“Of course. It was my pleasure.”

She patted his shoulder and went to skirt about the foot of his bed when Thorin said, “Have you a minute, Miss Stoneham?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she told him shortly and without stopping. “I’ve studying I n-n-need to do.”

“It won’t take long.”

She ignored him, ignored the strange looks Thorin’s insistence earned them, and marched back toward her room, where she closed the door and all but threw herself into her chair.

For all the good it did. Thorin knocked once, then pushed the door open. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She didn't look up from the text open before her, trying to focus on the words that swam before her on the parchment. “I am busy, Your Majesty.”

“Jasna, what is it? What’s wrong? Did Ormir come back to give you grief? Dáin was supposed to pack him up and ship him back to the Iron Hills yesterday, and if he didn’t, he and I will have words.”

Genuine concern wove through his words and that made her heart ache even harder. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head to look up at him. “Where is your Miss Whitbow?”

He just stared as if she’d slapped him soundly across the face, the blood draining from his cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Miss Whitbow. The lovely little blonde who arrived yesterday. Surely you know wh-who she is.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, concentrating on her tongue so she wouldn’t stammer. “Considering you are going to marry her, and all.”

Now he looked visibly ill, but she took no satisfaction in it as he said, “Jasna, I can explain that.”

“Can you? Really? Well, perhaps you should have before you carted me off to your bed, shouldn’t you?”

He flinched, but then to her surprise, nodded. “Aye, I should have. You’re right.”

“So, why di-di-didn't you?”

“Because I—”

She waited, and for a moment, something akin to pain flashed through his eyes. Then, he drew himself up and said, “Because it didn't suit me to.”

“What?”

“I wanted you, wanted to know what being with you would be like. And I knew if I was honest with you, it would have never happened.”

Jasna felt his words like a physical blow to her gut, knocking all the wind from her lungs. It was one thing to have her mind torture her with thinking he’d only used her. It was quite another to hear him actually admit to it. “You… So, it was all l-l-lies then, was it? When you s-s-said, I’d like to s-s-s-see where th-this leads, you meant only as f-f-far as your bl-bl-blasted bed?”

“I did.”

“You… you… you bastard,” she hissed, her eyes hot and stinging with tears she refused to let fall. “How c-c-could you do that to me? How c-c-c-could you look me in the face and l-l-l-lie to me?”

“Because I could.”

“Get out, Thorin. Get out and take your st-stupid words and your st-stupid lies with you. Mesmel, indeed. Did you tr-truly think I didn’t know what th-th-that meant? Did you th-thi-think me that stupid? Jewel of all jewels. Liar.”

“I am sorry I hurt you, Jasna. It was never my intention to��”

“You are pathetic. And you make me sick, Thorin Durin. And you need to leave.”

Now his pain was evident in every line of his face, but she didn't care. He should hurt. He should hurt for the rest of his days and he would get no sympathy from her about it. She spun away from him, squeezing her eyes shut as he pressed a gentle kiss into the back of her head, whispered, “I am so very sorry, Jasna,” and then was gone, closing the door softly behind him.

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

First Meeting

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Y/N begins her 1st day as a member of the BAU and Spencer is immediately taken by her

A/N: I’m always adding new one shots for Reid so if you’d like to be tagged lmk!

Masterlist

Spencer

Garcia comes up beside me on my way to the meeting room, all excited and bouncy. "Did you hear we're getting a newbie today?"

I stop in my tracks with a huff. "Wait, what? No! No one told me!" JJ walks by on her way to the briefing and I ask her. "Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?"

"Hotch is bringing her up now," JJ grins over her shoulder.

"Her?" I repeat, following her into the room.

"Yeah, he's going to introduce her during the UnSub briefing," Morgan adds as he takes his usual set.

"Did everyone know about this before me?" I sigh, plopping down in my chair.

"Apparently," Morgan pokes fun.

"Morning everyone," Hotch greets as he marches into the room.

"Morning," everyone else greets as I set my stuff down.

"Good-" My words disappear as I lift my attention away from my files toward the door and that's when I see her.

"This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N," Hotch introduces. "She is of the most recent Quantico graduating class and will be joining our team."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," JJ offers Y/N her hand.

The girl shakes her hand with a warm smile. "You too! Thank you guys for letting me sit in," she announces to the group.

I swallow hard. She's so young, she's like me.

"How old are you anyway?" Morgan questions, leaning back in his chair.

"Twenty-two," she answers. I knew it. "I graduated undergrad early."

"Aw like Spence," Prentiss gushes.

I don't even react to Prentiss petting my hair. Usually, I would swat her hand away. All I can do is stare at Y/N. I've lost all function like a robot missing a piece.

"Spencer?" JJ says my name with a hint of worry. It sounds like background noise, so faint.

Morgan chuckles. "I think Reid's head just exploded."

"Earth to Spencer," Prentiss waves her hand in front of my face.

I snap out of my daze and swat her hand away. "Stop it," I mumble.

A blush forms on my cheeks, I can feel it. I clear my throat nervously and try to act normal as I open up my file. Y/N takes the empty chair across the table from me. She offers me a smile. I feel this weird feeling in my stomach like I've had too much coffee and am all jittery.

JJ redirects everyone's attention to the screen. "Okay guys, let's begin. We've been receiving a series of calls from several police stations in Atlanta. There's been a series of livestock killings ranging from pigs to more commonly lambs. Each stabbed and hearts removed. Then, symbols painting on her foreheads and stomachs."

"Go back please," Y/N requests, surprising everyone.

JJ's brows scrunch together. "Do you see something, Y/N?"

"The locals think it's a cult?" She asks.

JJ looks over her papers and nods. "Yes actually."

"It's not," Y/N states with the utmost certainty.

My brows scrunch together as I begin to analyze the image myself. I wasn't paying attention before. I hate to admit it, but I was distracted. She's right, this isn't the work of a cult.

"How can you tell?" Hotch questions with narrowed eyes.

"The pentagram is wrong," I answer. My eyes meet Y/N's and she smiles.

"We're more likely dealing with teens or college students, outcasts, trying to scare the community," she adds. "Is that a college nearby?"

JJ skims her research and pulls out a sheet. "Yes, two."

"Does one of a greater population of local students?" I ask.

"Um..." JJ reads. "Yes."

"I think we should start there," Y/N concludes.

Hotch nods, rising from his chair. "Okay, wheels up in an hour everyone. Prepare," he instructs before heading to the door. "Good work, Y/N."

"Thank you, Sir," she grins, evidently proud of herself.

"Now there's two of him," Morgan chuckles as he gathers his things.

Y/N laughs. "What?"

"He's referring to me," I assure her. "The way you noticed the unfinished pentagram and narrowed down the profile, usually, I do that."

"Oh, sorry!" She's quick to apologize.

"No, no!" I wave my hands in a panic. "It's nice having someone else around who notices details like that. Makes me feel less annoying and a know-it-all."

______________________________________

Y/N

Hotchner, Reid, and I stand on the other side of the one-way mirror as our next interviewee gets settled in by the police. He's a student at the local university and fits the M.O. A complete outsider, impressionable, a history of emotional disorders and animal abuse, it's a perfect match.

"Sir, do you think Spencer and I could go in?" I request.

Hotchner raises a brow. "Do you think you're ready?"

"Yes, and just in case that's why I ask to have Spencer with me."

"Spencer, what do you think?" The leader questions, watching as the cops release Brian from his handcuffs and depart the room.

Spencer glances past Hotchner over to me. He nods. "I think she's ready, Sir."

I suppress a smile and redirect my attention to our potential UnSub.

"Very well, go ahead," Hotchner approves.

"Thank you, Sir," I say as I head toward the door.

Spencer holds the door for me and we step out into the hall.

Before we enter the interview room, I had my file over to Spencer.

"Here, could you hold this for a second?"

He takes the stack nervously. "What... What are you doing?"

"I have an idea." I remove my scrunchie from my hair and toss it around a bit. Spencer watches as I slip my scrunchie onto my wrist and begin to unbotton the top to buttons of my blouse. I readjust my boobs a little and pull down my blouse. I take the waist of my skirt and pull it up a little. "How do I look?" I ask the boy when I'm done.

"I... uh... I..." He stammers.

"Perfect!" I smile, taking back my things.

I enter the room first, Spencer following close behind. "Hi Brian, I'm Agent Y/L/N and this is Agent Dr. Reid," I introduce as we take our seats across the table.

"You two look like you could go to my school," Brian laughs. "How old are you guys anyway?"

I smile and ignore his question and stick to the topic. "We're just going to ask you a few questions."

Brian smirks. "Well, can I ask you something first?"

"Of course," I assure him.

"Can I have your number?" He asks boldly.

"I um..." I'm at a loss for words.

"I don't think that's very appropriate." Spencer defends with a stern tone.

"What? Are you her boyfriend or something?" Brian mocks.

"Uh no, but this isn't a personal conversation this is an investigation, so let's stick to only necessary questions,"

Brian complies and I continue my interview. He gets off track here and there, but Spencer steps in. I'm thankful that Spencer is quiet for the most part, only when to redirect Brian back to the purpose of our interview. I feel calmer with Spencer next to me. For some reason, his presence makes me feel safe even though we may have a serial animal abuser and cult member across the table from us. When I conclude our interview, Spencer and I rise from our chairs. I tell Brian that authorities will be in soon to take more of his information.

"So how's about a date?" He asks again for a third time within the last thirty minutes.

I ignore him as Spencer opens the door for me.

"What? I'm not your type?" The kid chuckles.

I stop and spin on my heels to face Brian. I press my palms against the table and lean closer to the boy, startling him. "Frankly no, you're not. I'm into older guys and... well..." I eye him up and down and giggle. "You're nothing but a kid."

He swallows hard, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. I smirk and step outside into the hall. Spencer joins me and shuts the door behind us. He wears a bewildered expression. I begin to tie my hair up again and button up my shirt.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he voices as we head toward the door to the watch room.

I shrug. "Eh it's okay, he's just a kid. Plus, I'm used to it."

When we enter, Morgan and Hotchner are still observing Brian's behavior. Morgan steps closer to Hotchner, making room for Spencer and me. I catch a glimpse of Brian through the mirror and his head is in his hands.

"Good work," Hotchner compliments us.

"Interesting approaching," Morgan nods. "Seems to be working."

"Thank you," I grin, bringing my arms crossed over my chest. "I figured it was worth a shot.

A comfortable silence remains in the room as the four of us watch Brian slowly crumble.

Spencer leans closer to me and I extend my neck out to him. "Is it true, what you said about being into older guys?" He questions quietly between us.

I turn my head to look at him and his face is full of curiosity. "How old are you?" I ask.

His brows scrunch together. "Twenty-seven."

I smile, turning my attention back to Brian as he continues to fidget. "Yes, it's true." I back up to step outside and fetch a coffee. I suspect this will be a long night.

Spencer

Right as Y/N steps out, Morgan sighs. "Aw Reid, you're in trouble man," he laughs.

Hotch chuckles from beside him.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously?" Morgan raises a brow as he turns his body to face me. "She just told you she's into you."

"No, she didn't, she just asked me how old I am and told me-" I pause, reviewing our interaction just seconds prior and I begin to piece it all together. My eyes grow wide. "Holy crap, she's into me!"

"You better jump on that, Big Guy!" Morgan pats me on the shoulder.

Hotch wears a sly grin, pretending to be focused on Brian, but it's evident he's amused by us.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mrsobrien888 @hufflepufftruffle @gillybear17 @thatsonezesty13 @smol-flowerkiddo @reesespieces10123 @madds-m @az3r0o @wafflebacon23 @spencerreid-mgg @alfonsais @justlivinginadaydream @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @farah3012

@doveygirlkay-blog @dreatine @imhappybutimalsosad @parahmur @tremendousdinosaurhideout @destiny-dream67 @ashwarren32 @yeahjustcallmer-n @bluehydrangea-cherry @izzysecrets

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer x reader #derek morgan #imagine #fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic

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surftrips · 3 years ago

Text

Just My Type — Chapter Two (Jay Halstead x woc!Reader)

Word Count: 1210

Chapter Summary: Dr Y/L/N assists Detective Jay Halstead and the Intelligence Unit on a call involving a serial killer.

A/N: Been having so much fun writing this series, thank you for all the support on Chapter One! If you would like to be tagged in future chapters, just leave a comment or message me and as always, show this post some love <3 <3

CHAPTER ONE / SERIES DESCRIPTION

Case File 081: In pursuit of a male suspect with sociopathic tendencies targeting prostitutes in the Chicago area.

Location: Unknown

Relatives: Mother (DECEASED) / Father incarcerated

You began to read over the case file Detective Halstead handed you. Ever since you helped him out with the witness at Med, he had been calling you up to assist on more and more cases. This one involved a serial killer that Intelligence has stumbled upon.

Chicago wasn’t a stranger to infamous killers, but you were surprised that Intelligence hadn’t transferred this case to another division in the CPD or the FBI.

“Hey, aren’t serial killers outside of your jurisdiction?”, you asked Jay.

“Yes, technically… but I told Voight we should pursue it,” he responded.

“And why did you say that?”

“I told him I know someone that can help.”

You chuckled. You couldn’t say no to him, and he probably knew it. “Alright fine, I’ll finish up looking over these files and meet you at the station after my shift. I get off in a few hours.”

“Great, thanks Y/N,” he smiled at you on his way out.

…

True to your word, you headed over to the station after your shift. You tucked your motorcycle helmet under your arm before walking in.

Even though you had met all of the other officers in the Intelligence Unit, this was the first time you were actually upstairs in the bullpen.

“Dr. Y/L/N! Jay told us you were coming over, it’s nice to see you, ” Adam Ruzek greeted you.

“Hey, nice to see you too! Where is he by the way?” you asked.

Just then you heard Jay’s voice, “There’s my favorite psychologist! Hey- I didn’t know you had a bike,” he said, noticing the helmet under your arm.

“Jay, how many times do I have to tell you I’m a psychiatrist?”

“Well, either way, I’m glad you’re here. Let me show you what we’ve got so far.”

He led you over to the large whiteboard they kept in the middle of the room. You saw photos and names of the victims, the suspect himself, possible locations he frequented, there was barely any white space left.

You pointed to the picture of the man they believed to be the suspect, “What do we know about him?”

By then, the rest of the team had begun filing in: Kim Burgess, Hailey Upton, Antonio Dawson, Kevin Atwater, and of course, Voight.

It was Kim who responded to you first, “Not much. He was seen in the area after the police discovered three of the bodies, we thought that was too much to be a coincidence. Usually people run into just one of these crime scenes, but the murder locations are scattered across town, so it doesn’t really explain why he was at three of them.”

“We went to his last known address but it’s empty. Checked out next of kin, but his parents aren’t in his life, he has no siblings, and no known associates,” Kevin added.

You took a minute to think. “Alright, so this guy is a loner. Likes to do things his own way. By visiting three separate locations of the crime, he thinks he is invincible, that we’re never going to catch him. Tell me, were there any trophies he took from the women or symbols he left behind?”

Antonio said, “Not that we know of, but you’re welcome to take a closer look at the bodies if you want. I can show-”

“Actually, I can take her to the morgue,” Jay cut in before Antonio could finish his sentence.

Antonio nodded, like they had some sort of silent agreement going on. “Sure, man,” he said.

…

“Hey, what was that all about?” you asked Jay as soon as you two were in his truck.

“What was what all about?” he asked, clueless, or at least pretending to be.

“You interrupted Antonio when he offered to take me to the morgue.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I just need to make a stop and it’s on the way to the morgue, so you know, convenience and all that.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, you were just going to be accompanying the detective on his errands, nothing more. Unless..?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of Jay turning on the radio. “What do you think is appropriate music to listen to while driving to the morgue?” he asked.

You chuckled, “Hmmm.. I always say Taylor Swift has a song for everything, but I’m not sure about this one.”

“You’re kidding! I say the same thing all the time!”

“Do you really?”

“Haha, no. I’m just messing with you. But Taylor Swift is good, I’ll give you that.”

You playfully punched his arm in response to teasing you. “Don’t you ever joke when it comes to Taylor Swift again!”

…

At the morgue, you observed the five bodies closely. On the outside, there was no real resemblance between any of them, but you did notice that the first two victims were brunettes, while the most recent three were blonde.

“Do you think there’s a pattern there?” Jay asked when you told him about your observation.

“Possibly, it’s not uncommon for a killer to use people as stand-ins before they build up the courage to pursue their real targets. We just have to figure out what his endgame is here.”

“So you’re saying the first two victims were for practice? His real target is a blonde woman?”

“I think so, we need to go back and see if there are any women in his life that he could be harboring resentment for.”

“Copy that. Come on, let’s get back in the car.”

…

After cross-checking the list of possible targets for your suspect, the team landed on a woman named Samantha Jones. She was a few years older than the suspect, grew up in the same neighborhood as him, and after interviewing her, found out that she had embarrassed him by rejecting his advances all those years ago in high school.

Confident that she was the next target, Intelligence was able to get to her house in time and bring the suspect into custody.

“Another case for the books,” you were reconvening with everyone after the arrest at Molly’s. “I must say, that was pretty exciting. I’m starting to wonder if I chose the wrong career path.”

“Y/N, as much as I think you would make a great cop, I think you’re an even better psychiatrist,” Jay responded.

“You really think so?— Wait, did you just get my job title right?”

“Uhhh, yeah I think I did. That calls for a celebration! Next drink on me?” Jay chuckled.

“In my professional opinion, I think it would be wise for me to take you up on that offer,” you said, smiling like a loser. He was cute, there was no denying that.

It wasn’t until later in the night when you were lost in conversation with Jay that you realized he never ran that errand on the way to the morgue. You wondered if he had just forgotten, or if luck had fallen into your lap and maybe he did like you after all.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd fic #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead imagine #jesse lee soffer #just my type fic

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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Embers & Light: Chapter 43.5

Notes: So when I posted last week I realised a few hours later that I hadn’t posted the whole chapter! So, here you go. An early, albeit short, update. Thanks as usual to my beta @noirshadow, who is incredibly patient with all my E&L ramblings and makes sure my writing actually makes sense!

Chapter 43.5

Nesta

Cold air snapped at Nesta’s body as Sala flew her to Lorrian and Frawley’s. Cassian travelled behind her, trailing her path, the beat of his wings grating on her until she wanted to scream.

Of course, he hadn’t let her fly alone. He’d had to make sure that she was safe. That bond again, dictating his desires. Nesta didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

By the time she landed, Nesta had whipped herself into a fury that was frantic in its making—quivering with an energy that made her want to roar and sob until she was consumed with it.

“You’ve done your job,” she spat at Cassian, as he landed softly on his feet beside her with a neat retraction of his wings. “Now leave me alone.

They had landed just before the pine trees of the Eastern Steppes, where the forest decided to part for its witch and her home. The pine needles blocked out the sparkling stars above, casting the forest into smudgy shadows that made it near impossible for Nesta to pick her way across the ground, despite her fae eyesight.

When she stumbled, Cassian flared his magic to light the way but, thankfully, he did not dare reach for her. Loose roots and fallen branches created obstacles underfoot, but Nesta let her body tackle them blindly until she cleared the tree line and suddenly she could see again.

Nesta picked up her pace, storming along the paddock fence as the cottage came into view. The building’s shape was blanketed by a coal-night hue, save for the buttery light that fogged around Lorrian and Frawley’s bedroom window. Besides the smoke puffing from the chimney, the night was alarmingly still, as if had taken in a gasping breath in anticipation of what was to unfold beneath it.

The absence of Illyria’s fierce wind in Nesta’s anger felt foreign and infuriating, so Nesta walked faster, creating her own breeze. But the soft caress against her cheeks rather than the hurricane she longed for only served to sharpen the blade of her anger until it was lethal.

“Running away again,” Cassian growled from close behind her, his resolve to stay silent clearly breaking as Nesta stormed past the paddock entrance. He caught her wrist with a leather-clad hand and Nesta’s body jerked backwards as she was pulled towards him.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked as she snarled at him with such savagery it sounded like a wild animal. His voice cracked like ice over a river. “Why are you fighting something that I know makes you happy. I can make you happy, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” Nesta cut back, the slash in her voice a warning just as much as her words. Because Cassian sounded so agonisingly sad it bruised her lungs, every breath coiled with pain.

“I’m not letting go,” Cassian told her, and they both knew the meaning was figurative as well as literal as he searched her face for something that would tell him to stay. “You can shout and scream and bite all you want, but you are not running away from me again. Not this time.”

Go home, Cassian.

“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Nesta spat. “I can be happy independently of you.”

“You can have both.”

A cold, cruel laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that what you tell yourself every day when you pretend you can wear me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That you’re hoping I’ll give in and accept a bond I have explicitly told you I do not want?”

Cassian didn’t let go of her. Instead, he pushed her hand back to her as if it disgusted him to hold onto her. Nesta caught how his black hair sifted, the strands shining in the starlight, just before she turned her back to him.

It wasn’t too late to catch the curl of his lip and the way hurt seized the green and brown of his eyes. “You think I lie to myself? Nesta, you pull the wool over your eyes every damn day!” The last three words were staccato, thudding after her as she all but spirited away from him on a storm wind. “You have wanted me since you met me. Admit it. You want me and I want you. It’s simple. It’s all simple if you’d just stop fighting—”

The audacity to insinuate that Nesta’s feelings were inconsequential was too much. It hurt more than anything else Cassian had ever said, the rest of his barbs merely needles to this blade. Because none of what was between them was simple. It was a tangled web of terror and confusion and a desperate need Nesta did not understand.

The ignorance—the implied slight at her intelligence—had Nesta whirling, cutting Cassian off mid-sentence. Magic thundered through her veins, her power barrelling to her palms. She had to expel it—had to let it out like a curdling scream. Without thinking, she flung out her hands.

Nesta’s magic flew, roaring silver flames closing the distance between them. All she cared about was making Cassian recoil when her fire sizzled into nothing millimetres from his face. All she needed to see was the froth of his anger as it finally boiled over and met hers.

But Cassian moved quicker than Nesta had ever seen him. Red light shot from his siphons but this time there was no shield like there had been all of those months ago. Magic barrelled from his chest, his shoulders, his knees, the backs of his hands to meet hers—all of that magnificent power channelled towards her.

Scarlet and silver lit up the clearing, bathing their surroundings like glistening blood. Nesta braced herself for the slamming impact, expected for them to both be thrown backwards, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her body was seized with a sudden vigour—like a wonderful, gasping breath. And their magic… it didn’t clash. No, their jets of power melded together, silver meeting red until it formed a smooth running stream. It glimmered, quiet and calm in contrast, like the calm and tranquil night sky.

It felt right and wonderful and infuriating. Even Nesta’s magic was betraying her. Even her power couldn’t help but want him, even when she was incandescent with rage for the warrior before her.

Unleashing a growl of anger, Nesta dropped her hands in defeat. They hung at her sides, a useless deadweight. She was panting hard, even though what she’d just done hadn’t exerted her—it had been easy and right and thrilling, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence. Cassian’s chest was heaving, his hair as wild as hers. His hands were still outstretched towards her, each and every one of his siphons activated and glowing. Like her, he was staring wide-eyed at the magic that hung overhead like a mist, their very own canvas of stars.

When his eyes flicked to hers, the shock in them was still stark. In fact, Nesta could have sworn she spied terror in them. He stepped forward—her Cassian—but Nesta stepped back. A disgruntled growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and then he was striding towards her before she could even think about moving away from him. Stopped when he was a breath away from her.

Pine and musk wound around her body in an invisible embrace and Nesta’s face crumpled at the familiarity of it. She wished she was curled up beside Cassian in bed, her limbs tangled in his, her nose buried in his neck. She wished she’d never challenged him for answers in the bedroom earlier. Wished she was still living in blissful ignorance.

Two calloused hands came to frame her face and Nesta couldn’t find the will to shake them off. Couldn’t.

“Nesta,” Cassian rasped.

Nesta managed to shake her head. Go away. Please.

Cassian’s expression broke even as it remained still. Nesta didn’t understand how, but it did. It was something behind his eyes—the faint flicker of his eyebrows as they dipped in and out of a frown.

But Cassian didn’t drop his hands from her cheeks, as if he knew she didn’t really want him to leave her. Brushed his thumbs over her cheeks—wiping away the tracks of fury that had fallen from the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me or not?” Cassian asked quietly, after a long while. His eyes searched into her silver eyes—pierced her soul. Flames danced in the reflection of his irises. And Nesta knew that this was taking everything for him to ask it out loud. “Do you want me, Nesta?”

Run, run, run, the Cauldron mused in Nesta’s head, as it cast that sleepy eye on her.

Nesta shrugged out of Cassian’s embrace. Her movements were syrupy, as if the air around her had thickened, but still she managed to turn. Her entire body was shaking—whether it was from that leftover rage, or because her heart was breaking, Nesta wasn’t sure.

A sob heaved through her body but Nesta caught it before she made a sound. She couldn’t let Cassian see it. Couldn’t let him know how much she was affected by him.

Slowly, Nesta walked to the cottage. She was still coated in Cassian’s magic, his scent on her tongue both divine and hellish. And that alone made her want to cry even more. It served as a reminder that she was constantly at war with herself. This battle that had been thrust upon her, chaining her free will and making her question everything.

“Leave me alone,” Nesta ordered flatly, without looking behind her.

Nesta didn’t know why she expected Cassian to stay. To fight. But the sound of beating wings filled Nesta’s ears just as she reached the backdoor. It felt as if someone had closed a fist around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until the blood ran dry and veins popped under the pressure.

Frawley was waiting at the threshold, her expression grim. The witch held the door open in invitation.

But Nesta paused. Turned back to the paddock.

Cassian was gone.

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @ellies-iced-coffee @nehemikkele @misswonderflower @nessiantrashh @kawaiteacup

#acosf #acotar #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #acomaf #acowar #duskandstarlightwrites #nessian fic #nessian angst

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dizzydancingdreamer · 5 years ago

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Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind!

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying , @draconisxcaput

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good.

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up.

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself.

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins.

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened.

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-”

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure.

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard.

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least.

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books.

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well.

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever.

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain.

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least.

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily.

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do.

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you.

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone.

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you.

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop.

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it.

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far.

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life.

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours.

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet!

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning.

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

#draco malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

Text

Real or Fake? | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by @edencherries / Summary: Nat and Steve try to set you and Bucky up by sending the two of you to be a fake couple on an undercover mission at a fancy gala. Will you two still be pretending by the end of the night?

A/N: okay so I absolutely love how this one turned out. Yes, I used Hunger Games (if you’ve read them, you know) as an inspiration for the whole real or fake thing. Obviously it is fiction and a hair cut/growing a beard isn’t a good disguise for the Winter Soldier, but this is my story and I can write whatever I want. (You’ll understand this after you read it)

@edencherries I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting!! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“and that’s why we are going to send the two of you in there.” Steve is standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Come again, who are the two you are talking about?” You ask, looking around the table. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.

“You two, y/l/n.” Nat motions to you and Bucky with her fingers, “It’s time for you to be the undercover couple instead of Steve and I.”

“They’ve seen enough of Romanoff and Rogers to know who they are. It would blow the whole mission.” Tony explains.

“Okay but won’t they recognize me as the Winter Soldier? It’s not like that is a secret anymore.”

“Exactly.” You add, “So, it can’t be me and Barnes.”

“I’m not against it being you and I.” Bucky says from across the table, “I just don’t want to put you in danger because someone makes me out as the Winter Soldier.”

You can’t help but blush at Bucky’s protectiveness. I mean, if he doesn’t care about it being you and him, then you shouldn’t either. You relax in your chair to hear what Tony has to say.

“Yes, well that’s why you’re going to have to cut your hair and grow this out.” He motions to his chin, “Just a little scruff. That’ll probably be just enough to hide the Winter Soldier look.”

Bucky subconsciously runs his fingers through his long hair, “If you say so.”

“You guys are going to really have to play the part.” Nat begins, “I mean, you two have to look like a married couple, in love. Not all embarrassed to touch or look a each other like you’re doing now.”

“We get it, Nat.” You mutter.

“Good.” She smiles, “Lets go get you your wardrobe picked out then. The GALA is in a week.”

“Barnes would like this one.” Nat holds up a dress and you scrunch your nose up at it.

“Why does it matter if Barnes likes it? Shouldn’t I be the one who likes it?”

“because he’s going to be your husband.” Nat shrugs and browses through the remaining dresses.

“Fake husband.” You correct before finding a dress that you adore.

“Not enough cleavage.”

you groan, “Nat! Come on. I don’t want my hoohas out in the open.”

She sighs, “Alright alright, go try it on.”

You do as she says and when you come out wearing the dress, her mindset changes, “Okay, fine I actually like it.”

“Then I’m going with this one.” When you turn to leave you hear her mutter something about Barnes is going to love it.

“We really have to try on tuxes? I have plenty.” Bucky says to Steve.

“yeah but you need a new one for this gala.” Steve shrugs, “Plus, Tony’s paying for it so why not.”

“Are you sure that sending y/n and I is a good idea? We don’t talk that much.”

“You guys are going to be great. I mean you two work well together. I’ve seen the two of you out in the field. The chemistry is great.”

“yeah but that’s.. not even close to acting like we’re married and in love.”

Steve sighs and puts a reassuring hand on Buck’s shoulder, “Look, you got this. Y/n is a beautiful woman and you two work well together. Who knows, maybe you two will fall in love by the end of the night.” Steve shrugs.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Yeah right.” If only he knew.

~ Night of the Gala ~

Nat had spent the afternoon getting you prepared for the gala. She went over the target and what needed to happen tonight while she helped with hair and makeup. And by helping, I mean she told the ladies what to do.

“And most importantly, have fun with Barnes tonight! It’s a luxurious night at one of the most anticipated parties of the year.”

“Okay, but we’re still on the job. We still have to get intel on the target.”

“Yeah but you two have to play the part, so you still get to have fun.” She fixed the bottom of your dress so you could see the final look in the mirror, “You look stunning!”

You tilt your head as you admire your reflection in the mirror. Getting dolled up like this was a rare occurrence, so this was a treat. “Its not too much?”

“No, it’s perfect. Tonight is going to be great.” She gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze, “We should get you to Barnes. He’s probably waiting for you.”

“I don’t know if I like this new look.” Bucky rubs at the stubble on his cheeks and chin.

“Facial hair is popular now. All the ladies love it.” Steve hands Bucky his suit jacket; you’d be down any minute now.

“When have I ever had to worry about what the ladies loved on men? They loved me anyway.” Bucky chuckles as he slips the suit jacket on.

“Yes, well, some of us weren’t that lucky.” He peeks over his shoulder when he hears you and Nat’s voice, “Look, if the night goes well, look in the left pocket of the jacket.”

Bucky looks at his best friend in confusion, “What?”

“If the night goes well, left pocket.” Steve quickly mutters out, but it was more of a jumbled mess as you and Nat approach. It leaves Bucky wondering what the heck Steve meant and if this was a mission, why would it matter if the night went well? He didn’t wonder for long, because his attention was somewhere else as soon as he laid eyes on you.

You wore the dress with such a confidence he wondered where it could have been all this time. Yeah, he’d seen you out in the field, kicking ass, but this was a different side of you; a different confidence. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you outside of your field uniform. Well, there was that one time... Knocking is very important.

“You..You look..” Bucky was tongue-tied. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe you. Not a word that would capture the immense beauty of what he was looking at in this very moment.

Luckily, Steve jumped in, “I think he’s looking for.. beautiful, stunning. You know somewhere along those lines.”

Bucky suddenly felt underdressed. did he put enough gel to slick his hair back? Did it look okay? Was his suit good enough? Did he put on enough deodorant? He put on his underwear, right?

“Your new look fits you well.” You motion to your face with your finger, “You look very handsome.”

He clears his throat as he fiddles with his coat, “It’s scratchy.”

You giggle, “facial hair is very popular now though. The ladies love it. I know I do.”

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but that comment made him feel giddy inside. What the hell was going on with him? Snap out of it Bucky! “Should we get going?” He holds his arm out for you and you gladly take it, slipping your arm through his, “Yes we should. Don’t want to be late!”

When you arrived at the event, the two of you signed into the party under fake names of course. As you made your way to your table, you two began searching the crowd for the target.

“I haven’t spotted him yet.”

“Yeah I don’t...” You take another look and you finally spot him as he enters the room. “He’s just entered the room.”

Bucky pulls your chair out for you, “Yeah I see him.”

“Apparently we’re supposed to gather intel on the guy, but Nat never specified what kind.”

“Steve didn’t mention it to me either. I guess we’re supposed to keep an eye on him?”

So, that’s exactly what the two of you did. You two played along as the happy couple, talking with the others at the table while dinner was served.

“So, how long have you two been married?” The woman asks with a smile. Oh god, you two didn’t even go over anything like in the car.

“4 years.” Bucky smiles at you as he takes your hand in his, “But we’ve been together for 6.”

“Oh that’s so wonderful! My husband, Carl and I have been married for 30 years!”

“Wow 30 years? That’s.. amazing.” You comment, thankful Bucky took the lead.

“You want to know the secret?” She leans in closer, “the sex!”

“Oh?” Bucky asks, raising his eyebrows questionably at you.

“No no!” She laughs, “I’m only messing with you two. This is going to sound so cheesy, but it’s love. It really is.” She looks longingly at her husband, “If you two love each other, that’s only half the hard work it takes to making a marriage last. The other half is being truthful. And of course respect, and trust. There’s a lot that goes into a happy and healthy marriage.”

You didn’t know if it was on purpose, but Bucky gently squeezed your hand at the end of the lady’s advice. Something about Bucky shifted after the two of you talked to that older couple. Bucky kept his hand on you, whether it be to hold your hand, put his hand on your thigh or even around the back of the chair. It left you feeling confused, because from what you’d heard, Bucky wasn’t one for physical affection. You weren’t sure if he was playing the part well or if this could somehow be real affection toward you.

The two of you swayed softly to the music. Bucky held you close to him, one hand in yours and the other on your waist, “Are you enjoying the night?”

“We’re technically supposed to be on a mission.”

“Yeah but we can still enjoy ourselves.” He pulls away to look down at you, moving a piece of hair of your shoulder, his fingers grazing your soft skin.

“Are you enjoying it?”

He chuckles, “I asked the question first, doll.”

You playfully roll your eyes and shrug softly, your eyes dancing around the crowd to make sure the target hadn’t left, “It’s only pretend..”

“Is it though?”

Your eyes snap back to Bucky’s.

“Is it only pretend?” His hand leaves your hip to run his finger along your cheek, “Are we really faking this?”

The skin on skin contact sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps covering your body, “I don’t know, Bucky. Are we?”

He smirks softly, “You really don’t know how to answer a question do you? You’re supposed to answer it with an actual answer, not a question.” His hand moves to your neck, cupping your cheek as if he was going to...

And then his lips meet yours. Bucky Barnes was kissing you. Oh god but was this real or fake? Was this a part of the married couple look? Was he only playing his part of your pretend husband? Even with the confusion, you returned the kiss. Your hands going to the back of his neck. If you were being honest, you didn’t want it to end.

Bucky’s lips slowly leave yours, his eyes locked on yours.

“Real or fake?” You whisper, gulping, “The kiss, was it real-”

To answer your question, his lips pressed against yours again.

As the party neared its end, you and Bucky decided it would be a good time to leave. Walking out of the event center hand and hand, Bucky remembered Steve’s advice. He patted his jacket and felt something in the inside pocket. When he pulled it out, it was a hotel key. The same one hosting the gala.

“That sly bastard.”

When the two of you opened the hotel room, inside it was only one large king size bed and a dozen roses sitting on the bedside table with a bottle of champagne and of course two glasses. There was also a note -

if you’re reading this, it means the night went well and our plan worked. Please make sure you give us credit at your wedding. Also, order whatever you want because Tony’s paying. We’ll tell him that later.

p.s. don’t be mad, this wasn’t a real mission. We picked the guy out from the guest list and told you to watch him. - Nat & Steve (aka Matchmakers)

Marvel tag list: @hommoturttle , @iheartsebastianstan , @5jacobm5 , @lovely-geek , @fangirl-swagg , @1-800-thanos , @jessyballet , @katiaw2

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

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lumosandnoxwriting · 5 years ago

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Figuring it Out Together - Fred Weasley

Title: Figuring it Out Together Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!! Male receiving oral, female receiving oral, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, some dom/sub elements but nothing too intense, begging, semi-public sex Summary: landing in detention with the person she hates most is the last thing Y/N ever wants to do. But of course, with Fred Weasley around nothing ever seems to work out the way Y/N thinks it will. A/N: this is for the anon who wanted an enemies to lovers smut with Fred! The summary is shit but what else is new lol. Thank you so much to @fandomscombine and the two anons who helped me develop this idea!! Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated! I’ve started a tag list, so send me a message or ask if you’d like to be added! Tags: @pandaxnienke

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“Oi, Weasley! Get your ass back here!” Y/N shouts, chasing behind Fred as he heads towards the Gryffindor locker room with his brother. Fred and George stop in the tracks and turn around at the same time, the exact same cheeky smile on their mouths.

“Y/N!” George greets as she approaches.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Fred asks.

“You!” Y/N growls, pointing at Fred.

As Y/N comes to stand in front of them they both can’t help but notice how angry she is. Her face is flushed red and her eyes are dark and narrowed. Thankful that her anger seems to be directed at Fred, George gives his brother a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning around and following the rest of the team into the locker room.

“Me?” Fred teases, pointing to himself. “I’ve done something to rile up Miss prim and proper Y/N? Give me a moment, I need to bask in the glory.” Fred closes his eyes, tilts his head back and opens his arms as if the heavens have opened up and sunlight is gleaming down on him.

All this does is infuriate Y/N further, and when she finally gets close enough she shoves Fred as hard as she can. He doesn’t really move much, but it shocks him, and that’s enough for her. “What’s your problem you fucking prick? Why did you do that?”

“You’re going to have to elaborate, darling,” Fred responds casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a lot of things I’ve done in my life to classify me as a prick, so I’m going to need more details.”

“You broke his arm,” Y/N clarifies, gesturing towards the Quidditch pitch.

Fred rolls his eyes. “Your brother has suffered far worse injuries during a game, Y/N. Madam Pomfrey will have him fixed up in no time. No need for all the dramatics.”

Fred’s casual attitude does nothing but make Y/N angrier, and she shoves him again. “Most of them due to you no doubt! You knew how important this game was and yet you still had to go out of your way to be a complete asshat!”

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have just finished a grueling match, and Fred spent most of it hitting bludgers at Y/N’s older brother Matthew like they were the only two people on the pitch. While Y/N normally would be loving the opportunity to rub in her house’s win, Y/N had been praying for Ravenclaw to win this particular match. It’s been Matthew’s dream to be a professional Quidditch player since he was a little kid, and this match was his opportunity to make that a reality. Scouts from a few different professional teams were in attendance, and the Ravenclaw team has spent weeks fitting in extra practices to give them the upper advantage on Gryffindor.

Even Y/N was positive that they would take the win, until Fred made it his personal agenda to ensure Matthew never scored a goal. Y/N’s brother had spent most of the game whizzing around the field avoiding Fred, and he failed to score a single goal. And the icing on the cake was that 20 minutes before Harry caught the snitch Fred hit a bludger so hard that Matthew couldn’t avoid it, and it came into direct contact with his arm – shattering quite a few of the bones in it.

Fred huffs. “What did you want me to do? Throw the game so your stupid brother could show off to all of those recruiters? Me hitting bludgers at him so he doesn’t score is kinda the whole point of the game, Y/N.”

“Don’t try and act like I’m the one in the wrong here, Fred!” Y/N shouts, gathering the attention of some of the students heading back towards the castle. “You were focusing a bit too hard on Matthew and you know it! There was six other Ravenclaw players on the pitch, did you think about trying to hit some bludgers towards them?”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N,” Fred spits, returning her anger. “It’s a fucking game, get over it. Why do you always have to be such a bitch? You suck the fun out of everything.”

Y/N is seething with anger, and just as she starts to pull her hand back to slap Fred across the face, Professor McGonagall is stepping in between them.

“What on God’s green earth do you two think you’re doing?” McGonagall asks, looking between the two of them. “Mr. Weasley, Ms. Y/L/N. Detention, all next week and I’ll have 50 points from each of you. Now I suggest you two go find something else to do before I make it a month.”

Y/N flips Fred off as McGonagall walks away before she’s turning on her heel and stomping back up to the castle.

“Will you sit down, your pacing is making me dizzy,” Matthew groans, putting his head in his hand.

“Sorry,” Y/N apologizes, giving her brother a sheepish smile. She takes a seat on the edge of his bed, trying not to jostle Matthew too much. Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal his arm quickly, but some of the potions she’d given him left him quite dizzy, so he’s still resting in the Hospital Wing.

“Fred is a prick, Y/N. You didn’t have to confront him,” Matthew says, looking up at Y/N. “Although I really wish you would have slapped him.”

“If McGonagall had only showed up a few seconds later,” Y/N laughs. “I’ve never had the urge to hit someone before but there’s just something about his stupid face that makes me so mad. You’ve been working so hard for this match and then he called me a bitch,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t feel bad, and besides, this is a moment we should be celebrating.” When Y/N gives Matthew a confused look he laughs. “Your first detention! I’m so proud of you,” he says wistfully, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“Oh shove it,” Y/N says with a giggle. “I’m going to be stuck in a room every night for the next week with Fred doing whatever McGonagall wants, sounds lovely,” she adds sarcastically with an eyeroll.

“To be fair most girls would kill to be in your position,” Matthew points out with a laugh. “Locked in a room for hours on end with Fred Weasley. That’s like a girl’s wet dream come to life.” When Y/N grimaces at the thought Matthew gives her a look. “Every girl except for you apparently. Why do you even hate Fred so much?”

Y/N gives Matthew a look of surprise. “You can’t be serious?” When Matthew continues to look at her dumbfounded she scoffs. “You were at this school for two years before I was and all I heard when you were home on break was how much of an annoying prat Fred is. I mean I tried not to hate Fred just because you did when I got sorted into Gryffindor and he was pretty okay at first. But one day he just started being a dick to me and I realized you were right.”

“Probably because you’re my sister. I’m always on his case about pulling pranks or messing around in class, he probably figured you’d be the same way,” Matthew reasons.

Y/N shrugs. “Well he’s a bag of dicks anyway, so I’m not too bothered by it.”

Monday evening comes far too quickly for Y/N’s liking, and after dinner she trots off to the trophy room, Fred begrudgingly following behind. McGonagall is already waiting for them, and she directs them to sit on the couch in front of her. Y/N takes a seat and practically hugs the arm rest so she’s sitting as far away from Fred as possible.

“The behavior you two exhibited on Saturday was unacceptable and downright barbaric,” McGonagall scolds, her tone sharp. “You’ll be spending the week making sure every one of the trophies in this room shines like it’s brand new.” Y/N looks around at the vast amount of trophies in the room as McGonagall hands them each a rag. “This should give you plenty of time to not only think about your actions, but to resolve whatever animosity exists between the two of you.” She gives them each a stern look before heading towards the door. “I’ll be back to check on you both.”

Y/N groans as McGonagall shuts the door behind her and she hoists herself off of the couch towards the mantle, needing to put some space between her and Fred. McGonagall may want them to sort out their issues, but Y/N wants nothing to do with Fred, and she still has some lingering anger from their fight on Saturday so she’s sure all it would do is end in another detention. Y/N grabs a random trophy and starts scrubbing at it, keeping her back towards Fred.

“This is such bullshit,” Fred mutters to himself after a few minutes of working in silence. Y/N can feel his glare and her shoulders tense up, but she doesn’t say anything or turn around. “This is all your fault you know,” Fred continues a few moments later when Y/N continues to ignore him.

Y/N places the trophy she’d been working on back and picks up another one, determined not to give Fred a reaction. Clearly he’s trying to instigate her into getting into more trouble and while Fred may be used to serving detention Y/N plans on making this week her one and only stint. Y/N finally relaxes after a few minutes of silence, when Fred starts to hum some random song rather loudly and out of tune.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Y/N mutters to herself as she starts to work on another trophy. “Shut up!” Y/N demands, slamming the trophy she’d been working on down. As much as she wants to just ignore Fred, she also wants to keep her sanity.

“No,” Fred responds dully before he continues humming.

Y/N turns around to glare at Fred, and the sweet smile on his face only annoys her further. “Can you not be an asshole? For like, once in your life. Let’s just get through this week and then we can continue to hate each other from afar.”

Fred places the plaque he’d been working on down and leans back on the sofa, crossing his arms. “Why should I make this easy on you? You’re the one that got me into this mess.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. You totally didn’t shout back at me or call me any names. You just stood there and let me yell at you,” Y/N responds with an eyeroll.

Fred narrows his eyes. “You started it,” he fires back. “I was on my way back to the locker room when you ran up to me and started shouting. And don’t forget you shoved me a few times. I only shouted back because I was tired of listening to your stupid voice.”

“Oh please, you barely moved when I shoved you. You’re acting like I broke your arm or something. Oh wait, that was you,” Y/N reminds him harshly. “You broke my brother’s arm during the most important Quidditch game of his life!”

Fred stands up and takes a step towards Y/N, his fists clenched. “You’re still on that? It’s a game Y/N! I wasn’t trying to break his arm, it just happened! You’re being such a fucking cry baby over nothing!”

“I’m not being a cry baby!” Y/N insist, taking a step towards Fred.

“Oh you’re right my mistake,” Fred spits. “You’re being a fucking bitch!”

Y/N brings her hand out to slap Fred, but his hand wraps around her wrist tightly. Before she has a chance to try and struggle against his grip Fred is pulling Y/N into his chest and kissing her hard. Y/N kisses him back with enthusiasm and moans into Fred’s mouth as his hands land on her bum and give it a tight squeeze.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” Fred growls as he starts to bite and suck at Y/N’s neck. “You’re annoying as hell too,” he reminds as his hands shove up her shirt. “But so fucking hot.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Y/N demands, bringing their lips together again. Fred may be an annoying git, but even Y/N has to admit that he’s attractive and being with Fred will definitely make detention more interesting. “You have too many clothes on,” Y/N pants as they break apart, her hands starting to loosen Fred’s tie.

“I could say the same to you, princess,” Fred says, smirking when a shiver runs down Y/N’s spine. Normally the nickname would make her blood boil, but in this context it makes her pussy throb.

Y/N tosses Fred’s tie away as his fingers start to make quick work of her button down. “Why are these uniforms so fucking hard to take off,” Y/N groans as she starts to work at Fred’s shirt as well.

“That desperate for me already, Y/N?” Fred teases as he pushes her shirt off of her shoulders. He leans down to suck a mark onto the top of her breast as his hands move around her back to unhook her bra.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley,” Y/N chides as she takes Fred’s shirt off. Her bra finally hits the ground, and Y/N lets out a whine as Fred’s mouth starts licking and sucking at her nipples. “You kissed me first, remember.”

“Only because I wanted you to shut the fuck up.” Fred steps back and sits on the couch, pulling Y/N down onto his lap. She straddles his waist and they both moan as she grinds down against him. Fred’s hands start to massage Y/N’s breasts and his thumbs start to roughly rub her nipples, causing her to let out a breathy moan. “That’s right, princess. Keep making those noises for me.”

Y/N bites her lip and rocks down against Fred again, determined to keep every noise that bubbles up her throat down. This seems to only spur Fred on, and his head dips down to take one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud as his other hand continues rubbing the other. “Fuck, Fred,” Y/N moans, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Love the way you moan my name,” Fred praises, rocking his hips up into Y/N. He’s painfully hard in his trousers and he’s desperate for some friction. “Although I think there’s something even better for your mouth to do, princess.”

Y/N is dripping wet in her panties, and she hates to admit that the thought of sucking Fred’s cock sends a tingle right through her core. “Gonna have to ask me for it, Fred,” she teases, sinking to her knees in front of him.

Fred kicks his shoes off as Y/N undoes his belt and starts to work at the button of his trousers. “Look at you, you’re practically drooling,” Fred taunts playfully. “Give it another few seconds and you’ll be begging me to put my cock in your mouth.”

“You sure about that?” Y/N asks, looking up at Fred. She pulls his trousers and boxers down to his thighs in one go, and Y/N has to bite her tongue to keep from moaning as his cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. Fred exudes big dick energy, and Y/N’s pussy throbs as her hand wraps around him, pleasantly surprised that his size matches his personality.

Fred throws his head back and groans as Y/N starts to slowly stroke him. “Just fucking suck it already,” Fred demands. “You know you want it, slut.”

“Thought I was your princess?” Y/N teases as she leans forward, her tongue coming out to kitten lick at his sensitive head.

“Only good girls get to be called princess,” Fred moans, his hand fisting in her hair. “Bad girls who don’t do what I tell them get called slut.” Fred tugs on Y/N’s hair, and he smirks at the moan she lets out. “So you better get sucking if you wanna be my princess.”

Y/N presses her thighs together to try and get some relief on her clit as she decides what to do next. She desperately wants to suck Fred off, but a part of her wants to hold off for a bit and push him to beg her instead. But as Y/N strokes Fred, a bead of precum bubbles up on the tip of his cock, and it makes her mouth water.

“That’s it, princess,” Fred moans as Y/N finally takes him into her mouth and swallows him down. He watches as his length disappears into Y/N’s mouth, his hips twitching as he hits the back of her throat. “Fuck your mouth feels amazing. Gonna have to shove my cock into it every time you get mouthy with me.”

Y/N hums around Fred, her hand starting to work at the part of his cock she can’t fit in her mouth. She pulls her head back so her tongue can twist around the tip, Fred’s moans and pants only encouraging her further. Y/N bobs her head down, gagging as Fred hits the back of her throat. She starts to pull back, but Fred’s hips surge forward, fucking his cock back into her throat and making her gag again.

“Did I say you could fuck my throat?” Y/N scolds as she pulls off. Fred’s hips lift up again to chase her mouth, and she wraps her hand around his cock.

“Sorry princess,” Fred apologizes smugly. “You sound so good gagging around my cock I couldn’t help it.” Fred uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to bring her mouth back towards his crotch. “Just keep sucking, I won’t do it again.”

“I don’t really want to anymore,” Y/N teases. Her thumb swipes over the tip of Fred’s cock with every upstroke, causing his hips to jerk. “Gonna have to beg me for it, Fred.”

Fred groans. “Such a fucking tease, Y/N. Fine don’t suck my cock,” Fred says flatly, trying to bait her into taking him back down her throat. “Your hand feels just as good,” he groans.

Y/N narrows her eyes at Fred and pulls her hand away. “You wanna come from a hand? Then you can get yourself off.” She stands up then and kicks off her shoes before slowly shimmying out of her school skirt and panties. Y/N then lays back on the floor with her feet flat, knees bent and open so Fred can see her dripping core. She props herself up on one elbow and looks Fred dead in the eyes as her other hand starts to wander down to her pussy. “You can use your hand, and I’ll use mine.”

Fred watches in rapt awe as Y/N starts to slowly rub her clit, small moans falling from her lips. His cock twitches and he resists the urge to wrap his hand around himself. “Look how fucking wet you are, princess. All of that, just for me?” Fred bites his lip as Y/N starts to tease her entrance with her finger. “How about you come on my cock instead?”

Y/N whines as she sinks a finger into her heat, her attention completely focused on Fred. She watches as he stands up and gets rid of the rest of his clothes, her pussy throbbing at how wet his cock is still from her saliva. When Fred settles on his knees between her legs, Y/N reluctantly stops her movements on her core and places one hand on Fred’s chest while the other wraps around his cock.

“You wanna fuck me, Fred?” When Fred nods and goes to move forward, Y/N shoves him back. “Gonna have to beg me for it.”

“Stop fucking around, Y/N,” Fred complains. “You’re desperate for my cock and you know it.”

Y/N’s walls clench around nothing and her hips buck as if they’re searching for something to fill her. “Beg me for my pussy, Fred,” Y/N demands. “Beg me, and I’ll let you fuck me.”

“Let me fuck you, princess, please,” he begs. “Wanna ruin you with my cock, stretch that pretty little pussy out.”

Y/N is desperate for release at this point, and Fred begging for her only makes it worse. She immediately lets go of him and grabs his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. As soon as he’s free to move Fred inches forward and slams into Y/N, both of them moaning as he buries himself in her completely.

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Y/N moans. Fred starts to fuck into her quickly, hitching one of her legs over his shoulder so he can move deeper inside of her. “Oh my fucking god right there,” Y/N pants as his cock starts to drag against her g-spot on each thrust. “You fill me up so good, Fred, fuck. Such a big cock, fucking me so well.” Fred starts to rub her clit, and her walls clench around him.

“You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” Fred compliments. “Can feel your walls stretching for me, like they were made to take my cock.” Fred lands a particularly hard thrust and he’s rewarded with the hottest moan he’s ever heard. “Bet I’m the biggest you’ve ever taken. Aren’t I, princess?”

“Oh fuck, Fred,” Y/N gasps, her orgasm suddenly hitting her. She can feel her walls tightening and spasming around Fred, and her legs start to shake as pleasure washes over her. “Come inside me Fred please,” Y/N begs as she pulls their mouths together.

Fred’s hips still as he releases inside Y/N, his hips just slowly rolling to help him through his orgasm. He kisses Y/N slow as they both come down and once his cock stops twitching Fred slowly pulls out of Y/N and sits back on his shins. They both just sit their basking in the pleasure that’s still coursing through their veins, when footsteps start to approach the door.

“Shit, shit, fucking shit, that must be McGonagall,” Y/N panics, scrambling to find her clothes.

Fred grabs his wand and casts a spell at the door to keep it from opening. “Quick, get dressed. That’ll only stop her for a few minutes.”

They both get dressed hurriedly, and Y/N has just barely grabbed her rag and started to scrub at a random trophy when the door bursts open.

“Bloody old doors,” McGonagall mutters as she steps inside. She eyes both Fred and Y/N quizzically and Y/N holds her breath, waiting to be told off. “And how are things?” she asks.

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. “Going well, professor.”

Fred nods in agreement. “We’ve been hard at work. Merlin’s honor,” Fred adds.

“Very well then. I shall see you both tomorrow after dinner.” McGonagall steps out of the way, and both Y/N and Fred practically throw down the things in their hands as they rush to leave the room.

They walk back to the common room side by side, neither of them really sure what to say. Fred says the password as they reach the Fat Lady, and he lets Y/N go in first. Before Y/N has a chance to say anything to Fred he’s heading to join George on one of the couches, and Hermione is calling Y/N over.

“How was detention?” Hermione asks as Y/N reaches the table she’s sat at.

Y/N shrugs, trying to keep from blushing. “It was fine. Pretty boring actually.”

“Only four more days,” Hermione says with a laugh. “I’m working on that Charms essay if you wanna join me.”

“Yeah, totally. I’m just gonna go upstairs and grab a quick shower first and then grab my stuff.” Y/N can feel Fred’s release dripping out of her and into her panties, and she’ll never be able to focus on her homework if she doesn’t get cleaned up first.

“See you in a bit then.”

Y/N gives Hermione a smile before she turns on her heel and starts to head towards the staircase. Her legs are still a little shaky, and as she takes the first few steps up she stumbles a bit. Y/N looks back to see if anyone noticed, only to be met with Fred’s eyes. He gives her a sly wink, and she flips him off before disappearing up the stairs.

“So detention with Weasley was okay?” Matthew asks Y/N the next morning at breakfast.

They’re sitting together at the Ravenclaw table as always, and Y/N is thankful for the space it gives her from Fred. Last night was the best sex Y/N has ever had, and the fact that it was with someone she has hated for years has done nothing but confuse her further. She still hates Fred without a shadow of a doubt, but Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t want it to happen again.

“Yeah, it was pretty chill. McGonagall had us scrubbing trophies and stuff in the trophy room for hours which was mind numbing but, other than that it was uneventful,” Y/N lies. Telling her brother about her sex life is low on the list of things Y/N wants to do under normal circumstances, and it’s even lower when her partner is someone her brother considers an enemy.

“A bit of hard labor never hurt,” Matthew jokes, causing Y/N to choke on her orange juice.

“Yeah right. Hard labor,” Y/N tries to joke back once her coughs have died down. If only he knew the kind of hard labor we got up to Y/N thinks to herself as her eyes wander over towards the Gryffindor table. Her eyes meet Fred’s and she has to look away to avoid blushing.

“Hello, earth to Fred,” George calls, waving his hand in front of Fred’s face.

Fred drags his gaze away from Y/N so he can look at his brother. “Sorry, what did you say?”

George chuckles and looks over his shoulder to see what had Fred so occupied. “Ah, Y/N,” he drawls, looking back at Fred. “You were pretty quiet after you got back from detention. Did something happen?”

“No, not at all,” Fred lies, hoping his cheeks don’t start to heat up. Much like Y/N, Fred is completely confused about their encounter. He’s loathed both Y/N and her brother for as long as he can remember, but less than 12 hours ago they were having some of the best sex Fred has ever had and he’s already thinking about what they might get up to when they’re alone tonight.

“I was kinda surprised you came back in one piece,” Ron adds with a laugh. Fred throws his spoon at Ron, and the younger boy dodges it. “No need to be so rude. You two have hated each other for years and she looked ready to beat your ass on Saturday. I figured she’d take the opportunity to do it when you were alone.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much?” Hermione asks from Ron’s side. “It seems like you’ve been at each other’s throats since our first year.”

“I hate her because Y/N is an uppity asshole like her brother. Matthew is always getting me and George in trouble and Y/N does the same,” Fred explains. “Your first year, George was serving a detention with Snape and I set up what was going to be our best revenge prank yet. I went all out, it took weeks of planning. Except it never went off. Someone ratted on me and McGonagall intervened. I got in probably the worst trouble I’ve ever been in, Mum sent Howlers for days afterwards. I was in detention for months.”

“I remember that! Mum was still pissed at Christmas,” Ron says.

Hermione knits her eyebrows together. “I remember that too. But what does that have to do with Y/N?”

Fred sighs. “When I was leaving the prank to wait for George so we could set it off, Y/N passed me in the hallway. It had to be her who ratted me out just like her brown-nosing brother.”

“But it couldn’t have been Y/N. I spent most of the afternoon with her in the library working on a Herbology assignment. Ron and Harry were there too,” Hermione explains, and both Ron and Harry nod in agreement. “She must have passed you on the way into the library. By the time we left the library you were already in trouble, there’s no way she could have gone to see McGonagall between the time she passed you and when she got to the library.”

“Bet you it was Malfoy,” Harry adds. “He was leaving the library as Y/N entered, remember? He shoved her into the door jamb as they passed by each other.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Fred interrupts, his tone dripping with confusion. “You mean to tell me that I’ve spent the past 5 years hating Y/N for something she didn’t even do?”

Hermione nods. “Seems that way.”

Fred groans and stands up. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Fred heads out of the Great Hall and towards class, feeling even more confused than he had before.

“You plan on ignoring me all night, princess?” Fred says quietly, coming up behind Y/N. McGonagall has just barely shut the door behind her to leave them be and Fred doesn’t want to waste any time. He’s decided in the time it’s been since breakfast that he really isn’t sure how he truly feels about Y/N and having sex with her seems to be the best way for him to figure it out. He’d been trying to catch her attention all day, but Y/N barely even glanced at him.

“How the hell do you move so quietly?” Y/N asks, toying with the rag in her hands. Truthfully Y/N had planned on ignoring Fred. She spent most of the day trying to decide what to do about this murky new relationship they’ve gotten themselves in, and finally settled on letting Fred take the next step. Y/N is prideful above anything else, and she’d rather streak through the hallways naked than come on to Fred when he only saw their sex as a one-time thing.

Fred presses a kiss to the side of Y/N’s neck, smiling into the skin when she shivers. “You didn’t answer my question, princess.”

“You that desperate for me already, Fred?” Y/N teases, turning around to look at him.

“No,” Fred responds slowly, his gaze flicking to Y/N’s lips for a moment. “But I know you enjoyed last night, as did I. So I don’t see why we can’t do it again.”

“Maybe because we’re supposed to be shining these stupid trophies, not having sex. We barely did any work last night and I have a feeling McGonagall will notice when everything looks the same again,” Y/N responds in lieu of actually responding to Fred’s preposition.

“I can take care of that,” Fred insists. He takes his wand out of his back pocket and casts a spell which makes several of the trophies around them shine like diamonds. “There. Now McGonagall will have no idea what we were really getting up to in here.”

Y/N drops her rag and turns around, her arms winding around Fred’s neck as his wrap around her waist. She bites her lip, unable to stop her eyes from traveling down to Fred’s mouth. “This doesn’t change anything between us,” Y/N says softly, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Outside of this room I still hate you and you still hate me. Got it?”

“Of course, princess,” Fred confirms. Once Y/N relaxes in his embrace Fred wastes no time and presses their lips together, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

Y/N moans into the kiss, one of her hands trailing down Fred’s torso to his hardening erection. She palms him lightly, smirking when his knees quiver. “So hard for me already, Freddie? You miss being buried in my pussy that much?”

Fred starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck, one of his hands inching up her skirt. He pushes the fabric aside as he sucks a mark into her skin, and let’s two of his fingers rub through her wet folds. “You’re one to talk,” Fred teases as Y/N gasps. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re dripping wet. Been thinking about my cock, princess?”

“Fred,” Y/N whines as he sinks a finger into her heat. She clenches around him, her hand starting to palm him harder.

Fred pulls his hand out of her panties and kisses away Y/N’s pout. “Your mouth felt so good on me yesterday, princess,” Fred starts, leading them over to the couch. “And tonight, I’m gonna use my mouth on you to say thank you.”

Y/N shivers as Fred pushes her back onto the couch, her arousal growing even more. His voice is deep and slow, the complete opposite to how it was last night. Yesterday they had both teased each other, but it’s clear by Fred’s actions so far that he’s in no mood to play the same games again.

“How generous,” Y/N teases, watching as Fred starts to unbutton his shirt.

“If you want me to tease I can tease,” Fred muses, dropping his shirt on the ground next to his tie. “Or you can get naked and I’ll eat that pretty pussy of yours until you’re begging me to let you cum.”

Y/N immediately kicks off her shoes and wiggles out of her skirt and panties, letting them drop to the floor. “Please eat me out, Fred,” she pleads as her hands start to work at the buttons of her shirt.

Fred kicks Y/N’s discarded clothes out of the way and drops to his knees, grabbing a thigh in each hand. He pulls her legs apart and settles in between them before pressing kisses up her thigh and towards her heat. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely, princess?” Fred stops to suck a mark on the inside of her thigh, only an inch or two away from where Y/N needs him most. “Bet you taste so good, princess.”

“Put your mouth on me and you’ll find out,” Y/N pants, fisting a hand in Fred’s hair.

Fred looks up at Y/N, his mouth running dry and how beautiful she looks. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and her school shirt lays open, the tops of her breasts spilling out over the cups of her bra. Fred can still make out some of the marks he left on them yesterday as her chest heaves with deep breaths. Y/N’s stomach is quivering and Fred dips down and licks a long strip from the bottom of her pussy to the top to keep himself from blurting out just how beautiful he finds her.

Y/N moans as Fred’s tongue starts to flick at her clit, tugging his hair slightly. Fred’s fingers are digging into her thighs and it only turns her on more. “More, Fred, please.”

Fred’s tongue travels down from Y/N’s clit to her dripping entrance, slowly sliding into her as he collects her juices. He moans at her taste, letting his tongue fuck in and out of Y/N’s pussy. “Knew you’d taste good,” Fred praises. He sucks Y/N’s clit into his mouth and takes one of his hands off her thigh so he can sink his index finger into her.

“Freddie,” Y/N whines, bearing her hips down onto his finger. He curls it inside of her, and Y/N clenches around it. “Wanna come, please,” Y/N begs.

Fred nibbles lightly on her clit, teasing a second finger around her entrance. “Gonna have to come from just one finger, princess. Want my cock to stretch you out.” Y/N lets out a loud moan at that, and Fred smiles as he presses a wet kiss to her clit. “You like that idea, princess? My cock splitting you open?”

“Fuck me now, Fred,” Y/N demands, tugging on his hair again. “Wanna come around your cock.”

Fred licks up Y/N’s core one last time before he pulls away and starts to work on taking the rest of his clothes off. “Fuck, Y/N. You can’t say shit like that to me and not expect me to bury my cock in you every chance I get.” Fred stands up to get rid of his bottoms, watching as Y/N tosses her shirt aside and takes off her bra. “Don’t think I told you how incredible your tits are yesterday, Y/N. They’re so soft and round and perfect,” he groans.

Y/N flushes under Fred’s praise and climbs onto his lap when he sits down next to her. She presses their lips together and kisses him messily, one of her hands gripping his shoulder while the other reaches around to grip the base of his cock. “Gonna make me do all the work, Weasley? Typical man,” she teases, letting the tip of his cock tease her entrance.

Fred’s hands land on Y/N’s hips and he smirks as their lips connect once again. When Y/N teases her entrance again, Fred jerks his hips up and slams her down at the same time, shoving his cock all the way into Y/N. “What was that, princess? About me doing all the work?”

Y/N gasps as Fred enters her, her walls twitching around him. “So fucking big, Fred, holy hell. Feels like it’s splitting me in two. Feels so good.”

Fred hums and kisses Y/N again as she starts to bounce on him, his hips meeting her thrusts. “Riding me so good, princess,” he groans. “You feel amazing around me. Always so tight for me.” One of Fred’s hands travels to Y/N’s core and starts to lightly rub her clit while the other starts to pinch and toy with her nipple. He leans forward and presses his lips to her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Not where people can see,” Y/N warns, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. She leans back to brace a hand on Fred’s thigh, whining at the new angle. The tip of Fred’s cock rubs her g-spot with each movement, and Y/N can feel her orgasm building.

“But that’s half the fun,” Fred pouts, examining the few bruises he’s left on her neck. “Want everyone to know who this pussy belongs too.”

Y/N moans as Fred’s head dips down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth. “So this pussy belongs to you?” Y/N stutters, her eyes fluttering closed as Fred nibbles on her nipple and starts to rub her clit faster.

“Does it not?” Fred asks, fucking his hips up into Y/N harder. “Or is there someone else that makes you feel this good?”

“Fred,” Y/N moans as he pinches her clit and nipple at the same time, her orgasm taking over her suddenly.

“Fucking hell,” Fred moans as Y/N tightens around him and collapses into his chest. He grips her hips and moves her on his cock as he chases his own release. “How the fuck are you even tighter?” He groans as Y/N clenches around him again, and he brings her down on him one last time before his cock starts to twitch and he releases inside of her.

Fred starts to rub Y/N’s back as they both come down, whining as she shifts on his softening cock. “So good for me, princess,” he praises, pressing a few kisses to the side of Y/N’s face.

Y/N pulls away from Fred slightly so she can kiss him. Their lips move together softly and Y/N whines into it when Fred lifts her off of his cock. “Feel so empty without you,” she admits sheepishly, her cheeks heating up.

Fred chuckles and starts to trace shapes into her sweaty skin. “Trust me, love. If McGonagall wasn’t due to barge through that door any minute now we’d be getting ready for round 2.”

By the time Friday rolls around Y/N is more confused than ever. Every time her and Fred go their separate ways after detention leaves her with an empty feeling in her chest and she’s not quite sure what to make of it. It doesn’t help that Fred has started being nice to her outside of their detentions too.

Instead of his usual hard glares she finds him looking at her softly during meals and he greets her every time their paths cross instead of ignoring her as per usual. Their housemates are starting to notice Fred’s change in behavior as well. One morning he lets her have the last piece of bacon on the platter, and Hermione gives her a questioning look. When she’s doing homework in the common room with Harry and her ink runs out, Fred pulls a new bottle out of his bag and immediately hands it over to her, causing Harry’s jaw to practically drop. It’s almost as if they’re friends now, and it only complicates things in Y/N’s head further.

Y/N has found herself actually enjoying Fred’s tenderness, and she doesn’t quite know what that means. Tonight is the last night they’ll have to spend together, and Y/N is both scared and curious about what that means for their relationship. She spares a glance at Fred from down the table as Hermione chatters on about something, and she looks away quickly when his eyes meet hers.

“Last detention, what are you gonna do once you’re a free man?” George asks, pulling Fred’s attention back to him. When all his brother does is shrug, George frowns. “What the hell has gotten into you? You’ve been acting weird all week and now you almost seem, sad that your detention is over with.”

Fred bites his lip, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork. “Just been thinking about stuff.” Fred has gotten himself in a major problem, and he’s been trying to figure out how to get himself out of it all week. After his second time with Y/N things became clearer to Fred, he certainly doesn’t hate Y/N anymore, and he’s found himself developing feelings for her. He wouldn’t say he’s in love, but he’d be lying if he said he can’t see himself falling in love with Y/N.

He’s been paying more attention to her since his revelation that his deep-rooted hate was based in a misunderstanding, and he’s noticed so many things about her that he finds so endearing. It certainly doesn’t help that he’s had her moaning and writhing underneath him every day this week and every time she moans his name his heart swells.

“This about Y/N?” George asks carefully, not wanting to push Fred too much. Being a twin has its advantages, and while he can’t say he knows what’s going on in Fred’s head he can tell something is off with him and it’s not too hard to guess why.

“I don’t hate her anymore,” Fred admits quietly. “And it’s not like I’m in love with her or anything, but I think I could be. Someday. If she would let me.” Fred sighs and looks at George. “But I’m pretty sure she still hates my guts, I mean how could she not? I’ve been a dick to her for years and it’s stupid of me to think that a few nights of sex can change that.”

George chokes on his pumpkin juice. “You two have been screwing?”

“Shh, shh,” Fred says quickly, looking around to make sure no one overheard. “Keep your voice down, I don’t need the whole school knowing. Especially Y/N’s brother.”

“I thought you two were just making out or something,” George continues quietly. “Now I know why you’re so happy when you get back from detention every night.” George wiggles his eyebrows at Fred, and Fred rolls his eyes in response.

“We agreed that we wouldn’t continue hooking up after our detention was up and things are going to go right back to how they were before it started,” Fred pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “But I don’t feel the same way about her as I did before and I don’t know if I can start pretending to hate her.”

George gives Fred a sad smile and ruffles his hair. “I wish I could help you, Freddie.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Fred watches as Y/N stands up to head to detention, and he slowly follows her lead trying not to pay too much attention to how her hips sway.

“I guess this is it,” Y/N says quietly, trying to not let the sadness she feels creep into her chest. Fred has just finished fucking her into the carpet and she’s cuddled into his side as they catch their breath. In a few minutes McGonagall will be back, and whatever this is between her and Fred will be over.

“Guess so,” Fred responds, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His chest is already aching, and they haven’t even parted ways yet.

Y/N tilts her head up and catches Fred’s mouth in one final kiss. “It was nice, to not be your enemy for a bit.”

“Let’s not go back to being enemies then,” Fred says carefully. When Y/N looks up at him worriedly Fred musters up what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Friends?”

Y/N nods, trying to figure out why Fred’s offer of friendship simultaneously makes her happy and sad. “Sure, friends.”

They part and get dresses quietly, barely even able to look at each other. When McGonagall finally pushes through the door their standing at opposite ends of the room, and the awkwardness in the air is evident.

“I hope you two learned your lesson,” McGonagall says quietly before watching the two of them scurry away, their heads hanging low.

Despite the fact that she and Fred had agreed to be friends, Y/N can’t help but notice that he’s ignoring her. It’s been a little over a week since their last detention, and Fred hasn’t even said two words to Y/N. He’s barely even looked at her. His sudden disappearance from her life has left her both sad and angry, and she’s started to realize that maybe it’s because she really wanted to be more than friends with Fred. She thought maybe he had wanted that too, but with his sudden cool attitude, Y/N isn’t going to be the one searching him out to get to the bottom of it.

“Okay, you’re like, the best sister ever,” Matthew greets as she comes to sit next to him at the Ravenclaw table. It’s fairly early on a Saturday morning, so the Great Hall is still pretty empty.

“I mean I know that,” Y/N says with a laugh as she sits down next to him. “But do you wanna explain why you’re suddenly realizing it too?”

Matthew rolls his eyes and waves around the letter in his hand. “I got this in the mail today, no need to be so coy.”

“What is it?” Y/N grabs the letter from him and scans over it briefly. “One of the teams is going to send another scout to your next game. That’s amazing!”

Matthew frowns at her. “You mean you didn’t write to them?” When Y/N shakes her head, his frown turns into a look of confusion. “The letter says someone at school wrote to them and asked them to reconsider drafting me and that I’m a better player than I demonstrated.”

“Must have been someone on the team,” Y/N muses, taking a sip of orange juice.

“That’s what I thought, but look at the team they sent the letter to,” Matthew insists, tossing the envelope to Y/N.

She looks at it closely, noticing the team emblem embossed into the parchment. “That’s your favorite team,” Y/N points out.

“That’s why I figured it was you. You’re the only one that knows they’re my favorite, and it’s kinda weird that out of the six or seven teams that sent scouts this person would send a letter to the one team I’ve always wanted to play for.”

Y/N’s jaw drop as a conversation she’d had with Fred one night as they laid next to each other to recover. She offhandedly mentioned how sad Matthew had been after receiving a rejection letter from his favorite team. She thought nothing of it at the time when Fred asked her which team it was, but it all makes sense now.

“I think I know who sent that letter. I’ll be back.”

Y/N heads out of the Great Hall and back towards the Gryffindor Common Room, all kinds of emotions flowing through her body.

“Fred!” Y/N shouts as she throws the door to his dorm open. All three of the boys in there jump, frightened by her sudden appearance. She starts to storm towards Fred, and George and Lee take the opportunity to sneak out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Do you mind?” Fred says dully. His back is to Y/N and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

As Y/N comes to stand behind Fred she can’t help but notice that he’s standing next to his bed in nothing but his boxers. His hair is messy, and she figures he’s only been awake a few minutes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Y/N reminds him. “I need to talk to you.”

Fred sighs and turns around to look at her, sitting on his bed. “What?” His voice shakes, and he prays Y/N doesn’t notice.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N asks, trying not to lose her nerve. Fred looks beautiful sitting there, and it’s taking everything in her not to crawl into his lap and kiss him.

Fred rolls his eyes. “Lots of things are wrong with me, Y/N. You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“Why did you send that letter? To the quidditch team?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Fred smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. “They weren’t supposed to say you sent the letter,” he mumbles.

“They didn’t. But the only person who knows about Matthew’s dream to play for that team besides he and I is you. And since he didn’t send the letter and neither did I it had to have been you,” Y/N pauses, looking at Fred. “Why did you do it?” she asks again, softer.

“I dunno,” Fred responds with a shrug. “I could tell you were upset about the whole thing, so I figured I’d reach out. The worst they could do is send a letter back to me saying no. And then you’d never have to know about it. And if they said yes Matthew would never know it was me who sent the original letter in.” Fred bites his lips. “I just wanted to do something to make you feel better.”

Y/N’s heart melts. “You did it for me?”

“Why are you surprised? I figured it was obvious there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you. Or have you forgotten about the seven orgasms I gave you last Thursday?” Fred teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks flush and a shiver runs down her spine at the memory. “Why go through all that and not even take the credit for it?”

“Because of what you said, the second night of our detention,” Fred starts. “You made me promise that us hooking up wouldn’t change our relationship outside of detention and I very clearly broke that promise.”

“But I thought we agreed to be friends?” Y/N admits softly. When Fred nods she sighs in frustration. “Then how come you’ve been ignoring me? I’ve seen you less in the past week than I did when we hated each other.”

“Because I don’t want to be just your friend,” Fred admits. “I want to hold your hand and take you on dates and kiss you and fuck you in my bed. Or your bed. Any bed really I still have fucking carpet burn on my knees,” he jokes, trying to diffuse the air in the room. “I’m starting to feel things for you, Y/N. And I thought just being your friend would be enough but it’s not.”

“Freddie,” Y/N whispers, taking his hand in hers. “Why not just say all that then?”

Fred rolls his eyes. “Maybe because you’ve spent the past five years hating my guts? And you were pretty adamant that you wanted to continue hating me no matter how much sex we had.”

“You seemed to hate me pretty strongly too,” Y/N points out with a quiet laugh. “I wanted to hate you still, I really did. No offense,” she apologizes, squeezing Fred’s hand. “But as we spent more and more time together inside and outside the trophy room I couldn’t even remember why I started hating you in the first place. Your issues with Matthew are your issues with Matthew, and I shouldn’t have made them my issues with you too.”

“That’s why you hated me? Because of Matthew?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N onto his lap.

“It sounds stupid now. But it made sense at the time,” Y/N says quietly.

Fred grips Y/N’s face carefully and brings their lips together in a slow kiss. Their mouths move together softly, and Fred can’t help but notice how perfectly they fit together. Fred nibbles on Y/N’s lips to ask permission to enter her mouth, but Y/N keeps her lips shut tight. Sensing her sudden hesitation, Fred pulls away. “What’s wrong? I thought all that meant we were going to move towards something more. Did I read it all wrong? Oh god I did. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”

Y/N presses a reassuring kiss to Fred’s mouth. “It did mean we’re moving towards something more. I want to be something more with you,” Y/N admits. “I just. I don’t know how to be something more with you, Freddie. I don’t know how to be your girlfriend.”

Fred chuckles. “Well I don’t exactly know how to be your boyfriend either.” Fred kisses Y/N again sweetly. “But that’s the fun part of a new relationship, isn’t it? Figuring it out together.”

“At least we’ve already got the sex part figured out.” Y/N laughs as Fred stands up and throws her down on the bed.

Fred crawls up the bed and drapes himself over Y/N. “Doesn’t hurt to work on it, though,” Fred teases, kissing her hard.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley smut #fw #golden

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