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ghostybaby000 · 5 days

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After Hours | Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: Working has already made you feel exhausted, not to mention an awful manager making it far worse. You find yourself wanting to quit, that is until a tall masked figure gives you a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: 18+, violent theme, guns, yelling, future smut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

It was that time again, 7am. You grab your keys and purse, a coffee and a muffin to go making your way out of your home you head to work. You take the same route as always being sure to say hello to the other workers when you pull into the lot. You gather your items and head inside to the same front desk and chair waiting for you, that had been there the past 2 years without fail. You get yourself situated setting up your notepad for any callers and sip on your coffee relaxing into the chair.

You sit up to look more professional watching as two larger men walk in the door holding guns.

‘What can I do for you this morning?’ You smile to them, as they had been frequent customers at this smaller gun range for quite some time. They come over to you, pleased as always to see a smiling face, they were still in their uniforms. The gun range was quite close to a military base, making military personal a regular.

‘Good morning Y/N, the regular please.’ You give them a small nod as you check them out and hand them a golfcart key to get around the facility. They gave thanks and make their way outside, being sure to wave goodbye as they rounded the corner. You had worked here for quite some time, as your father had known many people that came to the range- they reached out needing help and you seemed fit. You went into the interview knowing that you didn’t have much knowledge on weapons or guns hoping they would give you a side job. The manager decided that would be best, and let you work up front with your ‘pretty face’ to attract customers. A small part of you took offense but you let it go, because you were excited to be working somewhere close to home and where you knew a few people.

Working up front you didn’t have to handle any weapons or fix any issues with them either, you simply had to check people out and give them ammunition which you didn’t mind. You began to recognize others and slowly made yourself a good fit in their community, people reaching out with Christmas cards or asking about your wellbeing. One person had never done such a thing, and that was one of the men from the military. He didn’t have a name on his chest and always remained ominously quiet and vigilante, something you noticed quickly. He always came in with 2 or 3 other members in the group but had never showed alone which only making you more curious of him. Today he hadn’t shown, nor had the typical group of other tall strong men.

You continued to check people out until the day had reached its end, and you were plenty tired ready to get some sleep. You made your way back to your car, packed up your belongings and headed back to your home. You got in the door and settled down making dinner and watching a show before getting to bed. You wake again to the small alarm clock on your bedside table, reaching over to gently turn it off, another day had started. You typically woke at 7 everyday as it made getting up for work easier, you started to make some breakfast and put on coffee, taking in some time to relax. A little later into the afternoon you received a text from a coworker asking if you could cover their shift as she was feeling unwell. You groan out as you fall back against the couch cushions, this was your day off and you just wanted to stay at home and relax. You knew though that they were understaffed and needed help whenever they could get it and that you wouldn’t say no. You gathered your things and headed back to the range, and thought to yourself that at least you got to make a good breakfast.

On the drive over it dawns on you that you could be doing more from your job, not just working the front desk. You hadn’t ever been offered a promotion by the snobby manager and was quickly shut down the last time you mentioned it to them. You tried to not hold any sort of grudge against people, yet the way the manager spoke to you and the other workers made you feel as if you would quit on the spot after your interactions, although you never had. You stayed because the other workers needed your help, and you needed the income not to mention getting to see people that were close enough to be considered friends. You shook the thoughts from your head as you pulled onto the gravel pathway and parked. Getting inside and settled in a few minutes, you gaze around the shop and found it to be quiet and calm as the mornings tended to be.

You help customers as the day progresses, making small chit chat being sure to welcome everyone who comes in. The range wasn’t too busy today, only a few people every hour which you enjoyed as it gave you some time to clean the monitors you used and sweep the floor around you.

You were sweeping up the last pile when you heard your manager begin yelling at someone from the office, with a slam of the door just down the hall. You groaned as you quickly picked up the small dirt pile you had accumulated and put it in the bin, moving to your work station swiftly. The manager now almost screaming at points of his argument, your palms begin to get sweaty and everything in you hopes that a customer doesn’t come in. You stand there nervously as people pass by the front door, you look away in hopes they won’t feel the need to come and say hello.

SLAM the phone had been hung up, making you wince as it did. You tried to act normally and as if you didn’t hear anything when you heard his office door open. You didn’t dare to ask him what it was about knowing that it would only blow up in your face, so you decide to start typing away at the computer. His boots came thudding down the small hallway as you tried to take deep breaths, telling yourself to not look his way. He stops right next to you, still huffing from yelling on the phone.

‘Where’s Catherine?’ He glares at you when you stop typing and start to look over at him, he was sweating from yelling and quite red too.

‘Well.. she texted me saying-‘

‘I didn’t ask what she texted you- where is she?’ His tone grew more firm as he leaned in closer to you.

‘She said she wasn’t feeling well so I came in to cover for her shift…’ You now had your hands placed on your lap looking between him and down to the floor, afraid of the man that stood in front of you and how he would react.

‘well that’s just GREAT.’ He slams his hands on the counter and begins to pace the small area in front of the desk, then moving them to cover his face.

‘She should have contacted me. Not you, ME then I could have told her that someone would cover for her- and it wouldn’t of been you.’ He looks at you when he stops pacing. You furrow your brows and look back to the floor.

‘See, you’re going into overtime now- you’re meant to only be part time which means I have to pay more!’ His voice was now booming through the small building while you sat quietly looking down to your hands in your lap or the desk, anything that wasn’t able to yell back at you.

‘You know what, don’t come in next week. I-I cant afford it now thanks to Catherine.’ You look up now, you couldn’t miss work for a week, you had mortgage due soon and electric bills to pay and you had to buy groceries-

‘I cant miss work that long I have mortgage due this next week…could I come in for just a few hours?’ You regretted saying the words as they left your lips, watching as a smile grew over his face as he walked towards you. Your own eyes began to feel hot and watery but you wouldn’t let yourself cry.

‘You can’t pay bills? No, I can’t pay bills! Not with people like you going overtime behind my back-you…you can afford to miss work your job isn’t essential around here! I can manage to ring people out for a while and eat a muffin at the same time- You can’t even use a gun properly and you think your fit to work here!?-‘ His tangent quickly cut off making the room feel a whole lot more quiet. The tears welting in your eyes that he couldn’t see had dropped to your pants. The door had opened and the same group of 3 had walked into the building wearing their uniforms, they must have checked in earlier this morning before you’d arrived. He immediately backs away from the counter to simply tapping his thumbs on the desk attempting to act casually. He was even more red now not that the customers could see, as he stared you down.

‘Alright. You lock up, I’m going home.’ He turns to face the customers now. ‘And you gentlemen, we are closing soon but please just ask Y/N for anything you need, have a good night.’ He walks back the office where the door now gently closed as you heard him gathering his things preparing to leave.

You were sure they had heard the manager through the door, there’s no way they hadn’t. Yet if they had heard, they were acting as if it was the same as any other day- except the one with the mask. He was looking at you for quite some time across the room before the group came up to the desk.

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daughterofcain-67 · 4 months

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𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 (𝚙𝚝 3)

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : When Ben comes across Crimson Countess he also runs into the man that released him from the vault back in Russia. He proposes a deal which Ben has to think about, but Butcher has some information that peeks his interest. Your whereabouts.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : spoilers to the show (Ben’s encounter with Crimson Countess), a little bit of a steamy moment. I think that’s it?

After his encounter with The Legend, Ben knew that his first stop would have to be Crimson Countess. But there was one more piece of information he needed to gather.

He needed to know where you were and he needed to figure out how the Hell he was going to get to you. You were his top priority and he had a feeling Countess would know where to look. He didn’t know if that feeling was right, but it had to be worth some sort of shot.

Soon enough, Ben made it to the shitty little trailer that Countess lived in, but before he could make an advance on the little building, he was confronted. He saw this man’s face before, but from where. But then it clicked and he recognized him.

“You’re the asshole from the lab.”

“That’s right. I’m the one that managed to get you out. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I know you want Countess dead. Don’t worry, Mate, I’m not here to stop ya. She’s right in the trailer for the taking. It can sort of be considered a uh.. a gesture of good faith.” The man said. Ben lifted a brow.

This man meant to tell Ben that he allowed Countess to live just so he could kill her? What the hell was this man trying to get him wrapped up into?

“Good faith for what?”

“Well, I was thinking that you and I could come up to what one would call a… well a team up of sorts.”

“You want me? To team up with you?”

The burly looking man smirked before he reached into his pocket before pulling out a little piece of paper, “We know Countess isn’t the end goal for you.”

Ben didn’t like the sound of this. But he wasn’t about to stand by and take orders from some rookie that thinks he can be won over by Countess’ life being saved.

“Oh yeah, and what do you think my end goal is supposed to be, hmm?”

“A certain retired supe named Quake.” Ben’s jaw tightened for a moment and was about ready to tear this stranger limb from limb if he dared to make a threat against you.

“Now don’t get the wrong idea, Mate. I’m not here to make any threats against you or your little Harlot. This is just another gesture of mine after you take down Countess in there.”

Ben looked at the sheet the man was holding in his hand and he started to think before he spoke again, “I’ve got my own mission, Buddy.”

“Oh we understand. The details can be discussed a bit later, but we need a um… a favor I suppose you could say.”

“Let me handle Countess before I take any favors from the likes of you. If I want that address badly enough, I have my own ways of getting it without having to owe anyone any damned favors.” The man walked over to him anyway before he just handed the paper over.

“Just take the damned paper, Mate. Make your life a little easier. Go in there, do what you need to do, and I’ll even give you a ride to Quake myself.”

Ben thought about it before he reluctantly took the piece of paper from the man he would later learn was named Butcher. He put it into the pocket he had in his uniform pants before he started walking up to Countess’ door.

He has waited so long for this little ‘reunion’ of sorts.

When he walked in, he noticed that his ex girlfriend was bound to a chair. So that was what the man meant by a gesture. They did all the hard work and she sat there so helplessly for him. They were really trying to suck up to him for this little favor they wanted, huh?

“Ben? Is that you?”

Ugh, even her voice made his stomach churn with so many regrets. At one point he even hated to say that he loved her before you came into the picture.

As he stepped further into the light she spoke again, “You look so young.”

“Yeah well.. you don’t.”

Ben could see the fear in the woman’s eyes and oddly enough, it was exhilarating to know that she was fully aware of her mistake. She genuinely thought the Russians could have killed him, “I’m so, so sorry..”

Ben tilted his head as he watched her practically tremble with fear in her seat, “This wasn’t my idea. You have to believe me.”

“How much did the Russians pay you, Sweetheart? Hmm?” The moment she looked away and revealed that they didn’t pay her was crushing oddly enough.

“They didn’t pay you anything? At all?” Still, no eye contact was made as Ben continued to stare at her.

“To think.. at some point I loved you.” He began.

“I know you and I had our ups and downs, but I still held onto the hope that while they tortured me, burned me, injected poison into me that somehow you would be the one that would come and find me again. You were the one I trusted most on the team.”

Then, Countess finally looked back up at Ben and she had this spiteful look in her gaze.

“Love? I didn’t love you. I hated you.” She seethed, leaning forward into her chair,

“Every last one of us hated you. What kind of a woman would love a monster like you?”

The hand that wasn’t holding Ben’s shield tightened into a fist. So that was the true feelings Countess had. There wasn’t even a sibling sort of love or any sense of camaraderie to give them a bond over the years? Everything they had truly meant nothing?

Ben’s eyes darkened and he felt that familiar burning in his chest once more. It was a little less intense then before, but he watched Countess’ eyes widen and she leaned back into the chair as she tried to brace herself. But he was sure nothing could have braced her for a death quite like this.

He released the energy that was building up within him and a blast escaped his chest. Several seconds went by and the light from the energy blast finally dissipated. When he looked in the spot where his former girlfriend sat, he saw nothing but a burnt skeleton in her place. Her home was completely destroyed in the process but of course, it didn’t exactly matter to him.

When he stepped off the remnants of the trailer, he saw some blonde chick staring at him and her eyes started glowing yellow before some lanky looking kid stepped in front of her. He could tell they were starting to have a discussion, and since it didn’t involve him Ben decided to walk away and start his own journey.

As Ben walked, he pulled out the sheet of paper and saw your address. Apparently it’s changed since the last time he saw you. All he knew was that he was one step closer to seeing you again.

“So, Mate. What do you say about that team up?” The man with the accent said and he turned around and stared at him.

“You take me to this address so I know this is really where she is. Then I’ll think about that little favor of yours as far as putting it on my agenda.” Ben said, and luckily for him the two men that were deciding to follow him around for whatever reason knew that this wasn’t up for a negotiation.

Whatever they wanted, they must’ve needed him pretty badly to make sure whatever they were going after gets accomplished.

“Of course. We’ll take you there now. It’s a couple of hours from here though so you’ll be in a cramped car for a while.” The lanky one finally spoke. What did this little kid have anything to do with this?

After a few hours, they pulled up several yards away from some sort of cabin. So this was where you decided to stay? Some cabin in the woods? He supposed it was private enough after all.

While Ben looked out of the window towards the building, he heard Butcher turning in his seat. Ben glanced over and saw that Butcher was handing him yet another sheet of paper. this time it had a phone number on it.

“Take the night to think on it, catch up with that little friend of yours now that you know she’s inside, and call us in the morning.” Ben lifted a brow and took the sheet of paper before he got out of the car. Butcher and Hughie - evidently that was the name of the scrawny kid - backed out and drove off, leaving Ben there.

He started to walk up to your cabin, his heart pounding in his chest and he could even hear it. This felt so surreal and he wasn’t even sure he could knock on the door incase it was just some kind of dream.

As he got closer, Ben realized that you didn’t have any lights on in the house. He carefully walked up to a window and took a look inside. When he did, he caught a glimpse of your little office area. You had a library, he supposed reading could be a good pastime for retirement even if he wasn’t a big reader himself. But what caught his attention was a chest that was sitting beneath your desk.

He could see the top of the chest was open and there were a shit ton of envelopes inside. Who the hell were you supposed to be pen pals with all of this time and who had the time to write like that? He couldn’t be more curious if he tried.

Ben bit his lip as the wheels started turning in his mind as he tried to think of a way to sneak into this room. He reached into his boot and picked up a pocket knife and started to slide it into the window, his attempt to unlock it and let himself in that way. To his surprise, Ben was successful and he opened up the window before proceeding to let himself in. Then he shut the window quietly once more.

When he walked over to the desk and pulled out the chest and set it on top of the desk, he got a closer look at the names on the envelopes. He turned on the lamp on your desk so he could see a bit better and he noticed that every last one of them had his name on them.

“She wrote letters?” He asked himself, mostly in a hushed tone. Then he noticed the fact that each envelope had been dated from 1984 to just this morning.

He took one of the letters and noticed the date as September 19, 2001. One of his birthdays over the years. As he opened it up, he saw your beautiful handwriting and he smiled to himself as he began to read.

Happy birthday my Ben!

Today would be your 82nd birthday. I know I’m not that far behind you. We’re both a couple of oldies, huh? It’s crazy how much times have changed here and I wish I could hear your thoughts on it.

I know for sure you would be opinionated on the attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon couple of days ago. I know you would want to be one of the first ones there to set the terrorists straight. Honestly I think you would hate what this world has come to anyway. You missed out on the Y2K movement at the turn of the millennium. Technology is really advancing and it’s honestly really scary. And we thought Vought’s tech was getting out of hand. People even have little computers they can take into their homes now, phones aren’t attached to the walls anymore like what we had growing up. People can carry their phones in their pockets now. That’s crazy to me!

I miss you so much, Ben. It never gets easier celebrating your birthday since everyone thinks your dead. I know that I should to, but I can’t for whatever reason. There’s a lot of conspiracy theorists that think you’re alive but those are few and far between. Unfortunately not a lot of them know who you are anymore. We have a new generation of supe fans and the old school supes are either dying off or they’re retiring and getting forgotten. The only supe you may recognize that’s active on the field would probably be Black Noir.

But anyway.. Not much is really happening. I’m watching a couple of your old movies today before I might go grocery shopping. Maybe I’ll pick up a few more envelopes. I’m running low on some supplies for these silly letters.

I love you, Ben. You’ll always have my heart.

Your Y/N.

Ben couldn’t help but feel this warmth in his heart, and it wasn’t one of those energy blasts getting ready. He folded up the piece of paper and put it back into the envelope and looked through some more of the envelopes.

Then he pulled another one out, this one was dated for January 19, 2020.

Well, Ben, I think human society will be coming to an end soon.

No it’s not the reason one would think. Apparently this virus called Covid has hit the country and everyone is supposed to be quarantined. It’s not that big of a deal for me because I’m alone anyways. But I was doing some online shopping to stock up on some things and I found out that stores are selling out of toilet paper of all things!

People get too hysterical. But maybe I shouldn’t talk too much about that since I’m a supe and don’t have the luxury of suffering from a virus like that. The people without our abilities and immune systems are suffering a lot though. It’s kind of hard to see the decline of everything.

It’s moments like this where I’m sort of glad that you’re not here to witness this madness. I really hope things will get better though. I don’t know if it will. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Y/N

There was even a virus? How bad was that? From what you said in your letter, it sounded like a national problem, maybe even global. Times really had changed a lot and he couldn’t believe just how much he had missed. All of this information just from reading two of your letters.

Honestly, he was glad you wrote these letters. It gave him something he could use to catch up on a lot of things that have happened over these past few decades. What made it even better was that it was from your own point of view. And if he could, Ben would spend all night reading each one of your letters.

It was so thoughtful to know that you did this. That you didn’t give up hope on him and that you would write to him as if he were still there able to read every word.

Just as Ben was about to grab another letter to read, he heard footsteps coming down from the hall and then there was the sound of a switch. When he looked over he saw that there was a hall light on and saw the most beautiful woman in the world standing in the doorway.

You looked just as beautiful as the day he left you for Nicaragua. It was like you hadn’t aged a single day either.

You were standing there in your grey ish silk robe that reached down to the floor. Around your neck he recognized the chain of the necklace he gave you all those years ago. He was amazed that you still wore it around your beautiful little neck. Your hair framed your face perfectly, as if you hadn’t even gone to sleep just yet.

He could see the disbelief in your eyes as he carefully took a step forward towards you.

You stood there completely stunned. You thought you had heard a noise a few minutes ago as you were getting ready to try and sleep but the feeling was too unsettling. You were glad you had gotten out of bed and walked down the hall because when you noticed the light in your office was turned on, you were shocked at who was in front of you.

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. This had to be some sort of dream. But you don’t remember actually being able to fall asleep that night. But what you believed you were seeing was Ben, alive and well and in his uniform. He looked like he hadn’t aged a day, much like you hadn’t aged.

“Ben? Is… Is that you?” You breathed out as he started to walk towards you.

“It’s really me, Sweetheart.”

Hearing his voice again made your eyes well up with tears. After so many years you never knew when you would possibly be able to hear his voice or even see him again, but Ben was really there standing in front of you! You could hardly believe it!

You ran into his arms and he lifted you up effortlessly and spun you around. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his neck. His hands were beneath your thighs as he wrapped your legs around his waist to keep you steady but he was able to use one hand to cradle the back of your head. You must’ve been trembling since he started to mutter sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s really me, Love. I’m not leaving like that ever again. Not for Vought, not for anyone.” He reassured you, but you didn’t really care about that right now. You were too caught up in enjoying his embrace.

You slowly pulled away from his neck so you could get a better look at him. Gently moving a strand of hair away from his face, you admired every little feature of his face. You thought you would never be able to see him again or be this close to him again. As you moved one of your arms to place a hand on his bearded face, you leaned in and gently smashed your lips against his. You hadn’t realized just how many emotions you were holding in at the moment as you felt warm tears streaming down your cheeks. Tears of joy, happiness, so much relief, confusion, and other emotions that you couldn’t exactly describe in that moment.

Ben kissed you back instantly and he could feel one of your hands going to the back of his neck and your fingernails found the bottom of his scalp, the gentle scratch as you ran your fingers through his hair caused a chill shoot through his spine as the kiss started to grow more heated and passionate. He’s longed for this closeness for so long, even before he was shipped out of the country. He’s missed you and everything about you.

The moment your lips parted, Ben instantly wanted more of your kisses but you started to speak again.

“Where’ve you been all this time? How did you make it back?” You asked breathlessly as Ben lifted a hand to wipe the tears from your face.

“I’ll tell you all about it later. I had some business to take care of before I was able to see you.”

“What business was that?”

“Countess…” He trailed off, making you lift a brow. “Originally when I was supposed to come back with the others I was going to break things off with her. Granted it’s several years later but I still needed to have a conversation with her.”

The expression on your face told Ben you must’ve been a little skeptical about the ‘how’ everything transpired and maybe she speculated he had more than just a conversation to end things. But he could always tell you later.

“I promise… I’ll answer any questions you have later. The important thing is, I’m back and I’m here with you again and Countess is permanently out of the picture.” That beautiful smile you had returned on your face and Ben leaned down to kiss you again but you pulled away, confusing Soldier Boy.

“Set me down.” You whispered and got out of his grasp. Then you took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his before Ben realized he was following you through the house and he made it to your bedroom.

Once he was in the room you shut the door and Ben looked down at you. The next thing he knew, Ben was sitting down on the edge of your mattress and he watched you took off your robe. You were wearing just a regular set of pajamas, a loose fitting black silk tank top and some matching shorts to go with it but you were still so unbelievably gorgeous.

He took your hand he gently pulled you close and you sat down, straddling his lap. He could feel your delicate hands on his chest and he lifted a hand to touch your sweet face, letting his thumb gently caress your bottom lip. He could feel how warm your cheeks got at such a simple action, and he lied the way you seemed to react to his touch. Then, Ben leaned in to kiss you once more.

The warmth of his lips sent a fire inside of you as Ben continued to deepen the kiss. You could feel his tongue over your mouth and you parted your lips for him. An involuntary little noise escaped you from his kiss. You started to feel a little light headed with the way he seemed to consume you in the moment.

But the moment Ben parted your lips, he lifted you up and turned the both of you around so you were on your back. The actions caused you to let out a giggle. You didn’t know why you laughed, maybe it was because both of you were eager, maybe it was still the fact that everything was still so surreal for you. Ben didn’t seem to mind the laughter because he was smiling at you when you looked up at him.

You reached up and pulled him down for another kiss and he placed a soft kiss on your lips before he started letting his lips work their way down your neck. You could feel his beard tickling your sensitive skin but you didn’t mind. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his touch as you let your hand go to the back of his head, fingers getting tangled in his hair.

Ben smiled against your skin when he felt your hands in his hair again. He reached down and moved one of your thighs and you instinctively hooked it around his waist as he settled between your legs. Then he let his hand run up your thighs, loving how soft your skin felt beneath his fingertips. He could feel the way your body seemed to grow hot with his touch and he loved it.

But just as things were starting to get good, things were interrupted.

Both you and Ben could hear some sort of ruckus outside and Ben lifted his head from your neck, “Son of a bitch, what the hell is that?”

You were definitely frustrated that you were interrupted too, but you wondered more about what could be outside. How were you found? You had a feeling that whatever was outside couldn’t exactly be good news.

You and Ben both got out of bed and started making your way to the living room and you walked towards one of the windows and you saw Black Noir standing with Queen Maeve. You could faintly hear Queen Maeve talking about something.

“I still don’t get why Homelander wants us to check this out. Is he really that paranoid about Starlight? They’re supposed to be the world’s number one couple aren’t they?” You could hear Maeve say, but not to anyone’s surprise Noir didn’t answer.

Still, it was enough for your eyes to widen. Homelander and the Seven knew where you were now? Why the hell did they come to your door? How did you get wrapped up this mess? Just by some sort of minor association with that Butcher fellow and his little group?

“Noir…” You heard Ben speak.

When you looked over at him, you could tell he was angry. What the hell happened in Nicaragua? You turned to him and put a hand on his chest.

“They can’t possibly know you’re alive. They want me because of some group that stopped by a few days ago. Just stay here before you get yourself in trouble again.” You pleaded.

“You don’t understand. Noir was a part of it some how. I need to go out there and-“

“Ben, I don’t know what you’re planning. I don’t know how you plan on doing it. But you need to do things right and right now that means listening to me before you wind up somewhere that you don’t need to be. I’m not losing you for another several decades.”

Ben’s jaw tightened and he hated when you got stubborn like this. But you were right. He supposed the logical thing to do at the moment was lie low before he found out where the rest of his former teammates resided. And Butcher… maybe he knew more than he was leading on.

Before Ben knew it, you were walking out your front door to confront the two supes.

“Hi there. Is there something the two of you need this late at night?” You asked, not really that scared to face them head on. If it was just a conversation, you could handle it.

“O-Oh. Quake. We didn’t realize that you were still awake.” Queen Maeve said, almost like a teen who’s plans to sneak out got foiled.

“Yeah, you both are interrupting a good book I was reading before I was alerted you were out here. Now what do you want?”

“Noir and I just wanted to know if you were visited by a man named William Butcher and his friends, and if you happened to know anything about Soldier Boy.”

“Soldier Boy’s dead, remember? You know just about as much as I do.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Quake, we know Starlight found your address. There was an explosion where Crimson Countess lived and when servailence was checked, it caused us to have the belief that Soldier Boy is alive. We have reason to believe he may be here and we just want to talk to him.” Queen Maeve said and your eyes darkened.

You knew Starlight was sweet and all when she sent you that photo of Ben, but you should have known she was naive and she’d get caught eventually.

“I told you, I don’t know anything. Now I think you should leave.” You said, your tone growing more stern.

“We just need to see if Soldier Boy is here then we’ll get out of your hair.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that both of them were unwilling to listen, then you raised your hand forward. The earth beneath you began to shake and then, from the ground, rose a wall of rock and dirt. You made a pushing motion with your hand and the wall went forward, pushing Queen Maeve and Black Noir back until they hit a couple of trees in the woods.

You were just glad you had plenty of acreage with nothing on it so you could use the ground as much as you needed to for self defense.

Anyway, you raised your hands again and took the patch of ground that Black Noir and Queen Maeve were on, lifting both of them up on their own personal island before you practically flung them several miles back from where they came from.

After all, they’re supers. They’ve survived worse. You just wanted them away from your home, not dead.

You shut the door behind you and walked past Ben who must’ve seen the whole thing through the window.

“Why’d you through them across all creation like that?” He asked, trying to joke with you, but you weren’t exactly in the joking mood anymore.

“What the hell did you do to Countess? They said there was some kind of explosions? They want to know where you are and now they may want to kill you.” You said as you started looking for your suitcases.

Ben sighed for a moment before he started telling you everything from his point of view.

“Countess and my team members stabbed me in the back. They tried to get me killed and the Russians took me. They were trying to figure out what could kill me and somehow in the process, I got new abilities that results in these energy blasts like the explosion at Countess’ place. She’s dead.”

“Holy-fucking-Hell, Ben! You can’t just go and blow people up like that! Do you realize that there’s cameras practically all over the place? No wonder they found you!” You exclaimed as you started packing up your things.

“Look, I’m still new to this whole technology-is-everywhere concept, alright? She lived in a damned trailer, I didn’t think it would get that much attention.” He told you and you sighed.

“Why are you packing up everything?” Ben asked you as he watched you moving about.

“Because my house is known to Vought now? And since I was uncooperative with those two supes, it’s only a matter of time before Homelander tries to take a shot at me and I don’t feel like dealing with his bullshit. I’ve got to figure out some other place to go. Not to mention the fact that I helped out Grace whenever I retired. She doesn’t have a good reputation with them either. They know William Butcher and his friends came to my house asking some questions because I think they want to take down Homelander once and for all, naturally Vought’s not going to like that. I’ll have to go into hiding all over again until I figure out where to go.”

Ben frowned at the way you were rambling but he supposed he could understand where you’re coming from. He watched you head to your office to grab something before he reached out and took your arm to get you to stop moving around so frantically.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Haven’t I always made sure you were safe from Vought after your little endeavors in retirement?” He reminded you and you let out a sigh as he pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head on top of yours, hating that you were suddenly stressed out about this mess.

“You did…”

“And what makes you think I won’t help you now? That William Butcher guy, he came to me wanting my help. He was the one that basically put Countess on a silver platter for me and he lead me to you. He probably wants the same things you do.” He said.

“Let me call Butcher. If he’s really as much trouble as this Homelander guy as you say he is, and he still hasn’t gotten caught? Maybe I can do that little favor he needs me to and we’ll figure out a plan from there.” He insisted.

“I don’t know.. what if the supes take you again or if someone double crosses you?”

“I’ll just have to kill them before they can try.”

“That’s really not comforting…”

Ben smiled a little before he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Once we get everything we need to settles, you and I can find some place to go. Hell we can travel out of the country if we wanted to and find some nice place to spend the rest of our lives.”

“That’s… a little bit better I guess. Gives me something positive to think about.”

“That’s better… now, why don’t I make a call to Butcher then we can get whatever you need all packed.” He insisted and you nodded against his chest.

“Ben?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“I’ve missed you. Really missed you.”

Ben lifted his head from the hop of yours and he looked down at you. He could see so much worry on your face after everything that’s just happened. It was such a contrast from how happy you were moments ago and he hated how quickly things seemed to change.

“I’ve missed you too, Sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You smiled softly before you carefully pulled him down by the neck and planted a soft little kiss on his lips before pulling away from his embrace.

“Give Butcher a call. We may not have that much time.”

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed part three of this story! There will be more to come soon 🥰

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @fanfic-n-tabulous @chriszgirl92 @hobby27 @nancymcl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @capricxnt @k-slla @angelbabyyy99 @david-tennant-obsessed-blog @deangirl96

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy jensen #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles the boys #the boys #the boys amazon

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

Text

Kinktober day 30

Brahms Heelshire + Breeding

Finally, almost done with kinktober. No proof reading on this one, because I could not be bothered lmao.

Shoutout to Egg Anon for being so excited for this one, sorry for making you wait so long for it.

Kinktober list

Getting Brahms to shower was always a chore, the man living in the walls having grown comfortable in his own filth in every sense of the word. The first time you had tired to make him shower he had whined and cried obnoxiously. He only ended up agreeing because you wouldn’t even kiss him goodnight because you said he smelled so bad. It ended with you having to change the water in the bathtub at least three times before it was clean, not to mention the war that was scrubbing his hair.

It hadn’t become any less difficult as time passed on, though you did figure out it was easier if you gave him a reward afterwards. Be it a cuddle, extra kisses or cooking his favorite meals. After your relationship had developed even more you knew he wanted a different reward, from the way his hands strayed to your chest, or his eyes seemed locked between your legs when he thought you weren’t looking.

Once when it had been yet another struggle to get him to bathe, he head left his mask on the sink after undressing to your confusion. Brahms wasn’t the type to not wear the thing, and it was almost uncanny to see him without it because you had gotten so used to it.

Your question as to why he took it off was answered when you had gotten up from your crouched position by the tub, only for Brahms to lean forward and press his face into your crotch, mouthing hungrily at the gift underneath your layers. Grabbing him by the hair and forcing his head back made the man whimper, his tongue half stuck out of his mouth from his licking and wetting of your jeans.

Brahms had whimpered and whined, looking up at you with blown pupils and a quivering bottom lip, his puppy eyes used to their strongest. But you had quickly grown immune to his eyes and begs over your time with him, so you had just pushed him back with a tsk and told him he didn’t deserve that type of reward because he had acted up so much when you wanted to get him clean. Maybe if he behaved, you’d let him taste, or even give him something even better.

After that Brahms seemed almost excited to bathe, going from bathing once every few weeks to wanting you to wash him every night before bed. And of course, you had followed your promise and after scrubbing him clean, you would always get to your feet, open up your jeans and let Brahms choke himself on your length, hand in his damp but still clean hair as he got drool and spittle all over you.

One night during Brahms shower, he told you to leave for a while because he could do it himself. You were very confused, because though he could do it himself Brahms was not the type to turn down your pampering and scrubbing him all over. He pouted at your quirked brow, his hands underneath the warm soapy water as he huffed at your reluctance.

Knowing he would call for you soon you just shrugged and left the bathroom, shutting the door carefully behind you. Deciding to stay nearby you sat down in one of the many fancy chairs that littered the hallways of the large mansion, pulling your phone out of your pocket to start scrolling through social media, keeping an ear out for Brahms noises as you heard water splashing.

Time passed and Brahms didn’t call out to you, though you did hear his noises behind the door. Brahms wasn’t one to keep quiet, so when you heard his keen from the bathroom you got to your feet and made your way over. Deciding to keep listening you stopped outside the door and listened, an interested tingle spreading through your abdomen as you heard Brahms moans and whimpers.

When you heard him moan your name you grabbed the doorhandle and pushed open the door, biting your lip as you saw Brahms on all fours and sideways in the tub. He was supporting his weight on the side of the tub with one arm, the other reached behind him so he could press his fingers inside himself.

His eyes were clenched shut, the burn scar on the side of his face scrunched up at the grimace he made, a slightly louder voice leaving him as he brushed against his prostate. You couldn’t keep the curse that left your lips to yourself, and Brahms eyes quickly snapped open and met your own, the man letting out an almost pornographic moan as he pushed his fingers deeper into himself.

He whimpered and whined, begs falling from his lips as you slowly stepped closer. Your socks became soaked as you stepped in the water that was pooling on the floor, most likely spilled there from Brahms moving around too much in the water and it spilling over the sides. When you reached down and caressed his face Brahms was quick to catch your thumb between his lips, sucking at the finger and rolling his tongue over its underside as if trying to tempt you to touch him more.

“Please, please” Brahms whimpered around your thumb, his eyes watery as he looked up at you, the hand working himself open growing sloppy and uneven as his arm grew tired. “What is it you want, Brahms?” you muttered, the crotch of your pants feeling tight from how hard you had gotten at the sight in front of you. “please…I want…” he whimpers as his fingers brush his prostate, “I want you to fuck me please” he chokes out as a tear runs down his scarred cheek, spit dribbling down his chin and down your wrist as he tries to take your thumb even deeper into his mouth.

You let out a shaky exhale and pulled your thumb from his mouth, quickly reaching down to pull Brahms to his feet before he could start whining. By moving him he had to remove his fingers from himself and grab at your front, your clothes growing soaked as he stumbled into your arms. You groaned as he quickly wrapped himself around you, his harm cock pressed tightly into your clothed stomach and leaving a spot of precum on the shirt.

“Come on” you mutter as you lean down to kiss him, slipping your tongue between his lips and stepping back, pulling the man out of the bathtub, and leaving even more water on the floor. Wet kisses were swapped between your lips as you moved the two of you closer to the sink, Brahms hands shoving up your shirt and making you shiver as his cold fingers met your skin.

Dislodging your kiss, you grabbed Brahms hands and pushed him backwards and away from you, causing the man to whimper loudly. Flipping him around you pushed Brahms against the large bathroom counter, the kind you only really find in rich people houses, with too much counter space and an obnoxiously big sink. Though for this it was perfect you thought as you put a hand between Brahms shoulder blades and pushed him down against the marble, Brahms letting out a yelp as his still wet chest was pushed against the cold stone.

Brahms stuck out his hips as far as he could, almost arching his back as he grasped at the counter with fumbly fingers, trying to find anywhere to grasp on. Using your free hand, you reached down and shoved down the front of your pants, grabbing the top of your boxers to pull them down under your balls to let your cock bounce free.

The scarred man against the counter moaned audibly as he heard the movement of fabric, knowing what it meant, and it made him spread his stance just a little. “Lift your leg please” you mutter, reaching down to grab under one of his thighs to get his knee up onto the counter and truly spread him open.

He seemed to have done a pretty good job at stretching himself open in the bath, but you could never be too sure. Opening one of the many drawers you grabbed a travel sized bottle of lube, popped the cap and quickly covered your fingers. Patting him between the shoulder blades you told him to keep still and be good.

Brahms did his best but couldn’t help but wriggle his hips as you pressed the lubed up fingers inside him, the man shivering at the cold but his cock throbbing where it was twitching between his legs, a bead of precum gathering at the tip and dripping onto the floor. When you were satisfied with how stretched and lubed up he was, you used the last of the lube to slick up your length.

Grabbing onto his hips you stepped in close behind him, using a hand to lead your length until you pressed the head against his wet quivering hole. “You ready?” you husk, Brahms choking on a moan as he begged you to get inside him already. Chuckling you press inside, groaning as his warmth wraps around you, his walls clenching and unclenching as the man whines and moans, his hips wriggling trying to make you move immediately.

Pressed inside fully, you let the both of you adjust as your hips are pressed against his ass. You run a hand over the thigh that’s up against the counter as if to calm him like one would a wild animal, the muscles in Brahms back flexing as if trying his hardest to control himself. “Please… please fuck me… breed me” Brahms whines, voice wobbly as if he was about to cry.

Suppressing a groan, you grab onto his hips tighter and give him what he wants, moving your hips slowly back and forth, quickly growing faster in your movements until Brahms is gripping onto the edges of the marble counter, loud moans and cries leaving him as your length abuses his insides.

Brahms begging grows louder and higher in pitch as you strike his prostate, drool running down his chin and leaving a puddle on the counter as you keep hammering your hips against his, the loud noise of skin on skin and the wet noise of lube filling the bathroom, as you both moan and pant. Losing his grip of the counter Brahms reaches behind him and grabs onto your hips as if you pull you even deeper, his naturally deep voice croaking as he begs you to fill him.

He is the first to finish, the muscles of his back tensing and stretching as he throws his head back to the best of his ability, his cock throbbing as it shoots streaks of white against the doors of the counter, painting the dark wood.

Your thrusts grow faster as you approach your peak, the grip on his hip becoming even rougher as you feel the familiar warmth gather in your abdomen. As you reach your orgasm you shove in as deep as you can, your hips flush against his cheeks as you spill inside him. Brahms lets out a pathetic sounding moan as he feels your warmth fill him, his body slumping against the counter as his muscles all seem to finally give out.

The two of you stay pressed together, trying to catch your breaths until you’ve both come back down from your orgasms. You slowly pull your length out of Brahms, moaning softly as you watch his hole clench and cum dribble from his hole. Helping him get his leg down from the counter, you make sure to praise him and press kisses against his skin as you pull him to his feet and against your chest.

When you mention Brahms probably needs another bath he whines, turning his head to bury it in your shoulder. You chuckle at his behavior and tell him it can wait, that you both should go get changed and cuddle up, which your lover agrees too with a sleepy hum.

#male reader #slasher #brahms heelshire #Slasher headcanon #slasher imagine #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #brahms heelshire headcanon #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire x male reader #brahms heelshire x reader

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wisteriagoesvroom · 3 months

Note

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

#gax #max verstappen #george russell #f1 rpf #3363 #6333 #max verstappen x george Russell #wiz.writing #if this feels out of character I am sorry simply LOOK AWAY #but I enjoyed it #snipey type A assholes #but they’re MY made up snipey type A assholes #prompt fill #THESE WERE MEANT TO BE DRABBLES 😭#anyway

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 9 months

Text

Whatever You Like - Lewis Hamilton

Tonight was going to be your first gala with the Mercedes team, and you were panicking. Big time. "I have nothing to wear. Literally nothing," you complained to one of the friends you had made, Alice. "Surely you have dresses or something," she said.

"I do, but they are nowhere near nice enough for this kind of thing," you said, knowing you would have to go shopping before you went. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the mall, and I am going to throw something together,"

"You'll be fine, you're stunning, so you can wear whatever. Who else is going?" Alice asked, kind of wishing it was her going. "Me, Lewis and George. Toto said I was randomly selected since they had an extra space to fill," you said, already feeling nervous.

"Have you even spoken to either of them, ever?" she asked, also feeling quite smug. It would be entertaining to hear about this on Monday. "Yeah, a couple of times, but I'm pretty sure they will have plenty of other people to talk to,"

"You'll be fine, just talk to anyone you see. Now, I've got to go, send me as many pictures as you can take," she smiled, walking away and leaving you sat at the lunch table by yourself. You finished your lunch, before retreating to your desk to finish off your work for the day.

The gala was tomorrow night, and you were going to spend as much time as possible finding the best outfit you could. For a moment, you heard people stop typing on their keyboards and watch who was walking through the office.

Looking up from your computer, you spotted Lewis strutting through the office. You caught his eye as you looked, so you glanced away and focused your attention back onto your computer. You heard his footsteps approach your desk, but you just assumed he was walking by.

"Y/N, you're the one going to the gala tomorrow, right?" he asked, leaning against the filing cabinet next to your desk. "Yeah, I am," you said, swiveling your chair around to face him. "Would you mind telling me what you're wearing?" he questioned, keeping his voice down so he didn't distract everyone.

"I'll be honest, I don't have a clue right now. I'm going shopping tomorrow," you explained to Lewis, and his face told you that he had an idea. "Let me take you shopping, I can get you gala ready," he smiled, and you were speechless.

Lewis Hamilton had just asked if he could take you shopping. "Please, it'll be fun and I will make sure you look incredible," he said, and something in his eyes willed you to say yes to him. I mean, it's not everyday Lewis Hamilton offers to take you shopping.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun. I will warn you, I am very picky," you laughed, trying to contain the excitement you felt. "I'll take that as a challenge. I'll pick you up, yeah?" he asked, walking backwards as he walked away from your desk.

"But you don't know where I live?" you said, but he just put his thumbs up to you and carried on walking. You gave yourself a second to calm down, and then returned to your work. You didn't know what time he would be getting to your house, or even if he would be able to get to your house.

But you were sure he had a way, so you figured he would take care of it. You woke up earlier the next morning, just in case Lewis showed up at a random time. Eventually, you spotted a Mercedes pulling up outside of your house, and you figured it must be him.

"Are you ready for the best shopping trip of your life?" He asked, opening the car door for you as you locked your house. "Are you ready for the most difficult shopping trip of your life? Getting me to look good for these things is going to be hard,"

"It'll be easier than you think," he smiled as you stepped into his car. It was by far the nicest car you had ever been in, and it still wasn't sinking in that this as what you were doing. "So where are we going first?" you asked out of curiosity.

"I am taking you to the best shops I know," he said as he pulled away from your house. For a moment, you panicked. There was no doubt that the places Lewis shopped were expensive, and you didn't earn nearly as much as he did obviously.

Finally, the car stopped and everything looked so... Luxurious. All of the shop signs were shining and golden and it just smelt like money as you walked. You felt really out of place amongst all of the people that were shopping here.

They all walked around, their heads held high. You, on the other hand, just tried to blend in as you walked beside Lewis. "This might not be completely your style, but we might as well try, you might see something you like," he explained as he opened the door for you.

Inside, there were tall ceilings and racks of clothes. There was only one of each piece, and that was when you knew you were shopping high-end. The floors were marble, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the empty walls.

"Wait here," Lewis said, walking over to the counter. You could see the recognition in the cashier's eyes - he shopped here often. He talked to one of the ladies and pointed at you. He was probably explaining the situation.

Lewis motioned you over, and you joined him beside the sales lady. "This is Monica, and she is going to be helping you out," he told you, as the lady held her hand out for you to shake. You shook it and smiled.

"Follow me and I'll see what we can do for you," she said, walking through a curtain beside the check out desk. When you walked through, it was like something straight out of a movie. There was a platform with mirrors all around it, and a couple of seats just in front.

Lewis went and sat on a plush, cream couch right in front, and you were guided into the small room beside the platform. "I'll be waiting," he smiled, looking forward to what they would put you in.

Monica told you to stand there while she walked around the shop, picking colours that would fit your skin and eyes, while selecting the perfect sizes for you. "Put these on with this," she said, pointing to some pants and a blazer, "And let me know if you need any help getting anything on," she said, leaving you to get changed.

"Thank you," you said, putting the pants on first. They were pretty low-waisted, and they hugged your legs until the knee, where the black fabric flared out. They fit you perfectly, and you quite liked them.

The blazer was a bright, sapphire, but there was no shirt with it. You pulled it over your shoulders, and buttoned up the golden buttons on the front. But, you thought you had done something wrong.

The neckline plunged down to your stomach, showing off a lot, and you were sure there was something missing. "Monica?" you called, and she was quickly in the room with you.

"You alright?" she asked, looking at your figure.

"Have I got this on right?" you queried, looking at yourself in the mirror. Monica stepped up to you and hovered her hands around your midriff. "Can I?" she asked, and you nodded to give her your permission.

She adjusted the placement of the blazer on your body, and it definitely looked better. She turned you so you were facing the mirror, and pinched the fabric at your back to cinch the waist slightly. "I'll just pin it here, and it will give you the full effect," she said, and the fabric stayed in place as she pinned it.

"OK," you said, walking out of the room and stepping onto the platform in front of Lewis. "What do you think?" you asked, not sure how to stand.

"Wow, you look incredible," he smiled, gazing at the outfit. "But what do you think? That's what's most important," he said, and you felt like he could sense your reservations with the outfit. "I don't know, it's nice, don't get me wrong, but it's not really my style," you explained, not really able to pinpoint what you didn't like.

"That's fine, do you want to try something else?"

"Yeah, I think I will," you said, walking back into the small room. Monica unpinned it for you and handed you the next outfit. It was one piece this time, and it was in a deep, rich burgundy. She left you to get it on, and you already liked it much more than the blazer.

It fit you like a glove, and legs being loose and floaty, while it clung to your curves on the top half. Just as you were about to leave, Monica came back and handed you a pair of patent, black stilettos. You slipped them on your feet and wobbled back out onto the platform.

"That is already better than the last one," he smiled, looking at the expression on your face. He could already tell you like it more. "I like it, like, I really like it," you giggled, gazing at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like there's a 'but' after that, Y/N," he pressed.

"It's just not... The one, y'know?" you said, wishing you like it. It was really nice, it made your figure look impeccable. "Yeah, I get it. We aren't stopping until we find something that you adore, alright?"

"Yeah," you said, walking back into the room and putting on your normal clothes. You didn't want to be the one to ruin the fun, but the other reason you didn't get any of the clothes you had tried on was the price tag. These were expensive, and way out of your price range.

"The next store will be more your style, guaranteed," he said, leading you down the street and into another shop. This one was automatically more down your alley. The fabrics were light, some of them were glittery, and all you could see were dresses and heels lining the walls.

You took a dress down off one of the racks, and your hands immediately found the price tag. There was no way you were getting one of these. "Lewis, I can't, it's too much," you said, nudging him and showing him the price.

He understood what you were saying, but he had already decided what he was going to do when he offered to bring you shopping. "Mr Hamilton, what can we do for you today?" a cheerful lady approached you.

"My friend here needs an outfit for a gala we're going to tonight, don't hold back. Just make her look mesmerizing," he explained, as if he was completely ignoring what you had just said.

"Are we adding this to your account?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. You couldn't blame her, Lewis was nothing short of gorgeous and his fashion sense just added to it. He was a presence wherever he went.

"Yeah," he nodded, without missing a beat.

"Lewis, I can't let you-" you started as the girl walked off, expecting you to follow her.

"Just let me take care of it, OK?" he softly said, and it sounded like an instruction rather than a request. "My treat," he smiled, and the look in his eyes was couldn't fail to convince you to just let him. "Fine," you sighed, following the sales lady.

You tried on two dresses, and you had two more to go. You didn't like the other two for numerous reasons. They just weren't the one. As you were trying on the third one, the sales girl went to talk to Lewis. "She's a very pretty girl, Mr Hamilton," she smiled.

"She really is, and she would look perfect no matter what she's wearing," he smiled, thinking about you. Little did they know, you could hear their every word, and a light blush tinted your cheeks. "I also just wanted to ask if there is any limit on the price? I have a dress in the back and it would suit her perfectly, but it's one of the most expensive items we have in-store at the moment,"

Lewis didn't even have to think before answering, "Oh no, you have an unlimited budget. Give her the works. Dress, shoes, accessories, the lot," he told her.

"OK," she smiled, scurrying off to collect the dress she had told Lewis about. The minute you set eyes on it, you had a feeling that it was the one. When you were stood in front of Lewis, he could see the glint in your eye. "This one is nice, but the one that I've just been brought is beautiful," you said, itching to put the other one on.

"Well go and try that one on then," he chuckled, adoring the excitement that you were showing at the thought of the other dress. He had never gotten to see this side of you before, since this was the first time you had had a proper conversation.

He couldn't shake off the feelings that he was experiencing right now. You were just too cute for it to be ignored. You stood in the changing room for a second and just gazed at the garment. The second you put it on, you fell in love.

The skirt was just a waterfall of glitter and crystals that pooled at your feet, and the fabric was a dark, midnight blue. The section from your waist to your chest was a skin-coloured mesh, and the chest area was the same, bejewelled fabric.

The top half hugged your figure and clung to all the right places, and the length of the skirt made you look taller. To top it off, there were shoes made specifically to match the dress. You walked out of the room, the material trailing out behind you.

"You are stunning, I-. Wow," he fumbled over his words, unable to articulate how he felt. The huge grin on your face made his heart melt. "It's just exquisite, isn't it?" you said, unable to tear your eyes away from your reflection. "You're exquisite," he muttered, and you overheard.

"I'm guessing that's the one?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, without a doubt," you nodded. You took it off in the changing room, and the assistant took the shoes and dress to put them in the box. By the time you had gotten outside, Lewis had already paid for everything, and you didn't even want to ask how much it cost.

"Thank you, so much. I don't know how I'm going to repay you," you gushed, walking out of the store with a big bag in your hand. "You repay me by looking indescribably stunning in that dress," he flirted, playfully winking at you.

The butterflies that you had were unlike anything you had ever felt before. Checking the time, you realised you only had an hour and a half until you needed to be at the gala. "We really need to go, I need to get ready!" you rushed, showing Lewis the time.

"I have everything under control, relax," he said, walking past the car and continuing down the street. At the end of the street, there was a set of studios, and Lewis buzzed on the intercom. "Val? It's Lewis," he said, and received a very zealous reply.

"Lewis! Come on up," she said. Val seemed like a cheerful lady right off the bat. The door swung open, and Lewis stepped aside to let you in. "You will love Val, she is wonderful," he said, walking up the stairs.

Letting yourself into the studio, you saw a huge makeup table, with dividers that people got changed behind. There were also a few hair stations as well. "Lewis, I haven't seen you in-" a woman, who you assumed was Val, started, but stopped talking when she saw you.

She was a round lady, with bright ginger hair and a very eccentric colour scheme for her clothing. She was a typical artist. "Oh she is just as beautiful as you said she was!" she exclaimed, wide eyed. She put her hands on your arms and span you around a few times.

"She is, isn't she," he smiled, loving the sight of Val peering at your every feature. He knew she'd love you, since she had been begging him to bring her one of his lady friends for her to doll up. And now, he had finally followed through with his promise.

"So what are you wearing, honey?" She asked, wanting to plan what she was going to do with your hair and makeup. "This," you said, opening the bag and the box, pulling the dress out and holding against yourself.

"Now that is a dress fit for a gala," she smiled, the perfect look popping into her brain. "OK, you sit down there, honey, and I will be right with you. Lewis, you can get dressed first, then I'll be right with you," she instructed.

You sat in a chair, the table in front of you had every inch of it covered in different makeup products and a huge mirror with lights built into it. "Is there anything you want me to do, or do you just want me to go for it?" she asked, playing with your hair as she looked at you in the mirror.

"Just do whatever you think will make me look fabulous," you laughed, fully trusting Val. If Lewis did, that meant she was good. "OK, honey, OK," she chuckled, getting started on brushing your hair. She slicked it back with the products she had, and you were surprised with how much you liked it.

Next, she moved onto your makeup. She went with a smoky eye in the same midnight blue that your dress was, and a light pink on your lips. She powdered a soft, silver shimmer on your cheeks and swiped a blush for that rosy look.

"You go and get your dress on, and I'll get your accessories ready," she excitedly clapped, letting you go to get dressed. "Hey Val? You there?" you called, but you didn't receive the answer you were expecting.

"Val isn't, but I am. What do you need?" Lewis responded. You came out, holding the bodice to you, "Could you zip me up?" you asked, trying not to be rendered speechless by how good he looked. A suit could make any man look better, but it just enhanced all the right things on Lewis.

"Sure," he said. You turned your back to him, and you felt his fingers lightly brush the skin on your back as he moved your hair over your shoulder. He placed one hand firmly on your waist as he tugged the zip up to the top.

"There you go," he smiled, reluctant to pull his hand away from your waist. At heart, he was a hopeless romantic, and it took every fibre of his body not to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "Thanks," you said as Val walked back in.

"Alright then honey, come here," Val said, motioning for you to go over to her. She made sure jewels were dangling off of every part of you that they could, you were practically dripping in the things. Your ears, neck and wrists were sparkling and glittering under the lights of the studio.

"And one final touch," she said, taking your hands and slipping some rings down them. "Oh Lewis isn't she just the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" Val smiled, taking a step back to admire you. Lewis' eyes raked over your figure, and he couldn't believe that the girl who sat at the desk near Toto's office was stood here, looking breathtaking.

Well, he always thought you were pretty, but this was beyond anything he had ever seen. He was around supermodels and the like at these events, but he was certain that none of them would compare to you.

"She is Val, she really is," he agreed, looking into your eyes.

"You have to bring her back for me, OK?" Val asked. She had so many different ideas that she wanted to try on you, and only seeing you once was not enough. "Oh I'll be back Val, whether Lewis brings me or not," you laughed, causing her to smile.

Finally, you got back into Lewis' car, and he drove you to where the two of you and George were going to be picked up. This was going to be one hell of a night.

A/N - I'm thinking a part 2 when they're at the gala? Let me know!

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emsgwenstan · 3 months

Text

Holding on to our family

{Larissa Weems x fem niece reader.}

Words: 2k

Warnings: flashbacks, angst, hurt.

Note/summary: after Larissa’s death, y/n heads back to nevermore to tie some loose end or attempt to anyway.

2 miles to Jericho. That’s it. You know how far the township is from the airport like the back of your hand, but for the first time you wish you didn’t because then the sickening feeling wouldn’t be so prominent. You remember the first time you traveled to Vermont from London, you were 14 and she happily greeted you at the station in Burlington.

The sun was unwelcomly shining and casting rays through the branches, she loved the sun, the shadows whipping over the car from the ungodly speed you were doing. “Auntie lissa I’m scared.” You said. “Just go slow sweetheart, I’ll tell you when to change gears.” She smiled. “Ok, oh my- don’t you get scared passing other cars!” You shrieked. “You will be fine just concentrate on your side of the road. I promise you will be ok.” She said. And you believed her. If only she could see you now.

Passing by the Jericho sign you slowed down to take the turn off for nevermore’s drive way. ‘12 minutes’, you thought opting not to speed trying to drag it out for as long as you can. Once the iron gates came into view, your heart paced quicker. The nostalgia filled your senses as you recall how your nevermore days were the best of your life, you had friends, you did well in school, you had the privilege of having a single dorm with your own space and privacy and it was all thanks to her.

Larissa was the one who helped you on your darkest days, lightest and every other one in between, it started from the day you were born, your mother was absent and you father was always busy with his company and running off with his abundance of secretaries. She is- well was your fathers sister, your aunt consequently, but you forgot that most of the time, she was more like both the parents you needed in one, every holiday she would come back to the uk and visit, doing everything she possibly could, like teaching you to drive.

Putting the car in park in the lot that displays ‘reserved for principle L.W.’ You stepped out, the whole 6 feet of you, plus the extra inches from the heels you had on, straightened your blazer, did up the button then smoothed out your signature Weems, platinum blonde hair. The cobblestone clacking the whole trek, as expected once you rounded the corner many eyes set on your figure, students and teachers all going quiet and whispering to each other. Some you still remember.

Not stopping until you climbed the stairs to her office you made it on top of the mezzanine, your eyes flicked to her hanging portrait on one of the far walls. Pacing to the painting you admired it for a moment before you slid it aside to retrieve the spare key. For the first time in two years you stepped through the threshold of her office, it felt weird, wrong, the fire wasn’t alight, her laptop wasn’t resting on top of her desk, but everything else remained in exact place as the last time you saw it.

You walked around the desk to sit in her chair, just like you had many times before. “Here my sweet, sit here, it will be easier to do your homework.” She’d say. “Thanks lissa, you’re not leaving though?” You asked. “No, I am done for the day, but I’ll be right here on the lounge reading for a bit.” She said coming to stand behind your place in her chair, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head and walked over to lay down with her heels removed and legs slung over the edge of the couch. How you missed her.

As you sat tears started to well in your eyes, you discarded your sunglasses tossing them onto the table and rubbed at your eyes. Just then the door rang with a gentle knock. “Y/n?” A small voice asked as the door cracked open. Lifting your head from your hand a small smile graced your face. “Enid, hi.” You said standing, walking over to her with open arms. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come up here.” She said coming into your embrace. “Yeah well I had to some time.” You said. “I missed you.” She huffed into your chest. “I missed you to little lycan.” You said pulling back with wet eyes and a sniff. “Heeyyy, I love the hair.” You said groggily playing with the pink and blue tips. “Thanks.” She said sadly.

A moment went by when she spoke again. “I miss her too.” She said looking around the room. “Yeah.” You mumbled. A noise emanated through the door, you looked at Enid quizzically. “Um that’s Wednesday.” She said spinning on the spot and going to open the door, the girl really was like a storm cloud, literally black and white, just like how Larissa had explained. “Hello Wednesday.” You greeted. She peered at you unblinking until she looked you up and down. You extended a hand for her to shake and hesitantly she did so. “Y/n Weems, I’m Larissa’s niece.” You explained. “She told me a lot about you… don’t worry I don’t bite.” You said looking at Enid. “Well biting isn’t really a worry for you I suppose is it.” You said trying to ease the awkwardness. The look on Enid’s face was priceless, completely red. Wednesday on the other hand her scowl dropped immediately. “Hey that’s what happens when your added to this one’s close friends story on instagram.” You said giggling.

“You look like her.” Wednesday spoke, most likely her way of a shot at a compliment. “Thanks.” You said. “Ok wens we should go now.” Enid said dragging Wednesday behind her. “Horrified to meet you Wednesday.” You said, she peered over her shoulder and smirked, that gave you hope in possibly being on her good side. The door closes behind them and you paced to the middle of the room. ‘Guess I should consolidate with the staff.’ You thought with a sigh. “You will be fine, I know you don’t like talking to people but I’ll be right there the whole time, just waiting in the car.” She said. “I’m so nervous.” You expressed fixing your necklace in the mirror. “I know but you will feel so happy and relieved when you’re done.” She said standing behind you giving a squeeze to your shoulders. “What if they say they don’t want me as an employee?” You asked. “They would be silly not to consider you.” She said guiding you towards the door. In the end you got your first job at the mayor’s office as the receptionist, all thanks to the encouragement of her.

A while later finally finished meeting and greeting a few of the staff to let them know you will be staying for the week, all of them looked at you sympathetically as if they felt sorry for you, but you knew even when Larissa didn’t express it, that not one of them knew her or even cared enough try take some of the schools stress off her. You saw how it would take a toll, how tired she would be but never gave up and she never gave up on you. “Try again.” She nodded. You shifted for the second time and became the spitting image of your father. “Oh dear-.” She laughed, you cackled at the situation. “Out of everyone to pick.” She continued to laugh. “Ok your turn auntie lissa.” Your 15 year old self said shifting back to yourself and perching on her bed.

You hadn’t bothered to go backdown to the car and bring up your bags yet, when you return into the office you go straight to her quarters door. That damn door, how a piece of wood can be so imposing is beyond you, although once the door is unlocked and the hinges creak open you may never walk back out. You slid the key into the hole and twisted until it unlocked, you lent up against the architrave and observed the room, again everything in its place. Pacing inside you went and flopped on her bed, toeing off your heels and kicking them off the mattress, you snatched one of her pillows and hold it to yourself curling your legs up towards your stomach.

For the next hour you laid in the same position hugging onto the pillow like a life line, her sent still remaining. Pachouli, bergamot, vanilla and almost the faint smell of English breakfast tea. You scrolled through the photos in your phone’s gallery, seeing the ones from when you were born and an early twenties Larissa holding you, looking down at you as if her whole world just lit up. The timeline continued on all the way up to your early graduation from college, with Larissa holding onto your waist and you with an arm slung around her shoulders. You turn off your phone and break down sobbing into the pillow.

———

Two days have passed and all you had done is go through Larissa’s photos, clothes, trinkets and make up. You would take one piece of jewellery and wear it during the day just to feel a little bit closer to her, then when night came you would place it back in the exact spot you had taken it from. Nothing was boxed or packed, you couldn’t find it within you to place her things in a crammed space and send them home, this is what she has to show for her life and packing it away didn’t feel like an option.

Over the next two days you hung out with Wednesday and Enid, taking them into town, going to the weathervane, or just for a drive. You never really noticed how much you missed nevermore until now, unless perhaps it wasn’t the school that you truly missed, the memories are bittersweet, only now do they feel tarnished and painful, nevertheless it’s nice to know that you have a home a true home that comes with a chosen family, on the outings with the girls you were mistaken for being Enid’s older sister, to which you’d correct, though the mistake can be made since she’s 16 and you 23, only 7 years apart.

Returning back to school grounds you opted for a walk down to the lake, it felt like just yesterday you had won the Poe cup, having Larissa cheer you on from the side lines. You remember that even before you celebrated with your team you ran straight to her and embraced her with a joyful scream. It was nearing dawn and you decided to go back to your- her room, where you could use sleep as a procrastination.

“Larissa I’m an adult I can do anything I want!” You yelled. “Yes daring I know that but-.” She began. “No! Stop trying to keep me here, I want to go and experience things myself, I will not be rooted in one place like you, I actually need a life!” You exclaimed. Larissa straightened up and cleared her face of hurt emotions, turning into a stern look. “Fine.” She said. Your stomach churned. How disappointed she is. However you stuck it out and left, but before you could reach the door Larissa stopped you and wrapped her arms around your neck and breathed an I love you, one you didn’t return.

You sat up straight in bed gasping as the memory fades from your eyes, you look around to see the dimly lit room still and quiet through watery vision. “I’m sorry.” You whispered into the room. “I’m so so sorry… I love you too, I love you so much.” You said with your voice breaking and your throat sore. It displayed 3:02am on the clock resting on the bedside, you dragged yourself up and out of the tangled sheets to make a tea for yourself wrapping a blanket over your shoulders and back to keep warm.

With the beverage in hand you sat on the floor leaning against the end of the bed in front of the fire place, you were exhausted, the loop of the memory on repeat making every run through more painful. It was true the whole thing was real, you had been irrationally irritable that day, when you visited Larissa to tell her you were thinking of travelling alone across the world, the worst part was that Larissa was the one who actually encouraged you to travel and explore but to be careful and safe and yet you threw her support and generosity and care back in her face as if she were a monster.

It only took 2 weeks until you were back in contact with one another, Larissa was relieved to know you were ok and you were relieved she forgave you as well as listened to every ‘I’m sorry’ you had to offer. Turns out going back to London to pack and prepare without her wasn’t fun or adventurous at all, if you were to do something, anything, you wanted to share the experience with her, because Larissa wasn’t just your aunt, no, she was practically your mother, roll model and your best friend. That was the last time you visibly saw her, two whole years ago, you would do anything to go back and wrap yourself around her frame and never let her go.

With the tea finished and cup discarded, you went back to bed in hopes of a restful sleep, but of course you weren’t that lucky. The next morning you felt tired and drained in every way, you spent the day walking the grounds, visiting Ophelia hall to see Wednesday and Enid, and finally ending the day with sitting on the floor of Larissa’s walk in closet to flip through the box she kept her year book, newspaper clippings and sentimental things, but it wasn’t just hers it was your things to, the nevermore newspaper from 6 years ago when you had been early excepted into a prestigious university, the hair clips she would put in your hair every time she came to visit when you were little, Polaroids from over the years and dated notes from significant days in the past.

“Y/n, are you ok sweetheart?” She asked looking up at you from her arm chair in the corner of her room. “Yeah…” you said quietly, looking down. “I wanna tell you something.” You murmured. Larissa slotted the bookmark in between the pages of her book and gave you her undivided attention, you pulled out a piece of paper and gave it to her to unfold. “I can’t say it.” You said pacing about the room. You could hear her unfolding the paper and the silence that followed, but a giggle interrupted the raging thoughts in your mind. “Oh darling… that’s ok, that’s wonderful, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me such a thing. Come here.” She said, you turned and walked to her with your head down, as you sat lightly on her lap snuggled into her chest and tightly wrapped arms, she spoke again. “I love you no matter who or what you love, if you’re interested in girls or boys, vampires or werewolves I don’t mind……. can I tell you a secret?” She asked. “Yeah.” Larissa inhaled and slowly exhaled before she whispered in your ear. “Really?!” You said sitting upright. “Mhmm.” She smiled. “Oh, I was wondering why you didn’t like that nice man we spoke to at the grocery store the other day.” You said, in response Larissa laughed.

11/5/2019- y/n came out to me!

You traced her cursive handwriting at the bottom of the note you handed to her that day with a smile and placed it back in the box as well as putting the lid back on. Standing back up and turning the light off, you had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right, but ignored it. You grabbed the blanket from the bed and threw it over yourself going towards the office to turn off the lamps and stoke the fire before a knock on the door was heard. Walking over to it you opened the door to be met with one of the staff holding a few papers.

“Evening y/n, these were dropped off this afternoon, I thought I should bring them to you… sorry it’s late and I interrupted.” She said holding out the stack. “No it’s ok Melanie, I appreciate that thank you.” You said taking papers. “You have a relaxing night.” She said turning on her heels to leave. “You too.” You said closing the door. Wonderful, just what you wanted, letters with principal applicants, schedules of new school developments, an obituary form and a mediocre memorial service for Larissa. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You said. Somehow you internally corrected yourself with the word ‘language’ as if you could hear the statement about to come from her.

Another knock, you rolled your eyes. “Come in.” Nothing but a stretch of silence. “Melanie, if you forgot to tell me something you can come in.” You said walking back to the door. Nothing could have prepared you for what lye behind it, you opened the door and the wind was knocked from you lungs. No. This isn’t real. “Wow, I’m going insane.” You said peering into those bright cerulean eyes, dropping the blanket from your shoulders. When her hand extended to cup your cheek, almost immediately tears ran down your cheeks. “You’re not real.” You breathe. She stepped closer to run her other hand over your hair. You could feel her. You could see her. You could smell her.

You stood still as if you could blink to hard and she’d be gone. “Hello my darling girl.” She said with a smile. As brief as it may be and as much as you didn’t want to you rubbed your eyes knowing she will be gone in a moment trying to flea from this torment…and yet her grip stayed prominent, her smell still lingers and her form remained. You were in pure shock, you brought your shaking hands to her face to trace at it just to be sure. She was there, she was here, she was home and she was finally back exactly where she’s supposed to be, with you.

“I have a lot to explain, but firstly…” she began. “I love you.”

@sabraaabra

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #larissa weems x y/n #wednesday #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader

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staytinyville · 9 months

Text

OUTLAW (5)

ATEEZ ot8 x Reader

Cowboy / Wild West AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

“Sweetie, you already had your night shift turn. Are you sure you want to do it again?” Your father questioned you.

You gave him a bright smile, trying your best to act the part. “Of course it’s fine. Really. I want to spend the time alone. I’ll be fine.”

Your father squinted his eyes, moving to say something else but your mother stopped him. “I have to go make dinner soon, dear. I’m sure (Y/N) will be just fine.” She gave you a teasing smile over your dad’s shoulders. “Besides there are two nice police officers staying on the first floor should there be trouble.”

You grimace but immediately grinned when both of your parents looked at you. While your mother seemed to be thinking something else, her words eased your father. “Alright. Be careful. We will see you in the morning.”

You gave them both hugs goodbye, waving at them from the door. When they made it out the back and began their trek to your family home, you turned back around and began your night chores.

You noticed you tried to finish them quickly, wanting to reach a specific room quicker than normal. You were thankful for the patrons not wanting many things which allowed you freetime to get to where you wanted.

When you had done what you needed to, you waited outside the door for a moment, trying to build up the courage to knock. You raised your hand before you chickened out and rapped your knuckles along the wood.

Jongho opened up the door, allowing you room to walk in. The other man was sitting in the chair you often occupied while speaking with Yeosang who seemed to be conscious.

“You’re awake.” You called to him. He gave you a breathtaking smile in return.

“Yes, thanks to the medicine.” He answered. “All I need now is to clean the rest of the wound. The pills left should be enough to aid the healing process for the next few days.”

You nodded your head quickly, moving to unwrap the man from the sheets that were stained red. “I’ll help you with that.”

“We’re going to go see the others.” The tall officer spoke to you two. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

“If you so much as do anything-”

“I don’t need wanted criminals to be on the hunt for me or my family.” You spoke up, not daring to look at the two. Yeosang had a grin on his face as he listened to your conversation. He just knew each of his friends who would have trouble befriending you.

Yunho looked to Yeosang, getting a nod in return. “Do be careful.”

Yeosang noticed your fingers pause just for a moment before resuming the chore of removing his makeshift gauze. With the man conscious, he was able to move just the tiniest of bits to make the whole thing easier for you.

You decided on washing his skin before addressing the wound. For now it was best to allow it to breathe some before closing it off once more. There was silence that both of you seemed to find no trouble in enjoying. However Yeosang took a few moments to take a look at you.

It didn’t seem to bother you much to look at him with the top half of his clothing. You didn’t so much as seem phased with seeing his torso. Most women he had come across seemed to shy away from the advances his comrades gave them, giggling and blushing red. However he figured maybe things weren’t the same when you thought you were going to die.

“They won’t kill you.” He expressed.

You stopped wiping the rag along his collarbone, trying to fight off the smile from your face at hearing his deep voice. You could hear the small lisps he had which you found to be adorable.

“I don’t think anyone would want to risk it.” You answered. “As I told your friend. We’re both walking on eggshells.”

Yeosang sighed, hands moving to the back of his head to give you space. “We’re not like that.”

There it was again, the way he spoke making it seem like everything he said was correct. At least in this case it might have been. He knew what to say to calm you down. He also wasn’t worried about giving away too much about his gang.

“I believe you.” You told him.

Yeosang took a moment to glance over your face, titling his head in thought. “Is that why you act the way you do? Because you know we won’t kill you?”

“Oh no. I wholeheartedly thought I would die at one point.” You shook your head. “You just have such sincerity in the way you speak that it calms me down.”

Yeosang pulled his lip into a thin line, his cheeks turning pink from the compliment.

“Does my attitude bother you?” You asked him, continuing the rag down his chest.

“I find it entertaining.”

You patted his chest, pursing your lips. There weren't many people who complimented you on the way you acted. Even your family would make jokes about the way you were. They didn’t shun you for it but you were still often the bunt of the jokes when it came to people talking about their children.

‘Oh yes. It’s (Y/N) we are worried about. She is way too independent for her own good. Who knows if a man would be willing to marry her.’

It didn’t hurt to have them think that way. It’s not like they ever stressed you to go out and find someone. They weren’t people who forced their kids out of the house. Maybe it was because they had hands available to work in the hotel but they never outright expressed their thoughts about you leaving the house.

“My family has always told me I was too independent. I guess I never grew out of it and it caused me to have a mouth.” You tried to joke. “Glad to know my personality tickles your funny bone.”

“I’ve been with the boys for a long while. Each has their own ways of talking to people. It’s enjoyable to watch them argue with someone else who they won’t beat to a pulp.” The man explained to you.

“Lucky me.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m assuming you’re the one who avoids violence?”

“I’m part of a gang; it’s inevitable. I will say I enjoy the medicinal things a bit more.”

“I’ve been told.” You drop your rag into the water bowl, moving to get the medical supplies to clean his wound. “This might sting a little.”

Yeosang sucked in a deep breath when the cold solution of iodine touched his infected wound. It stung but nothing he couldn't handle. When you finished the disinfection, you moved onto the gauze.

“Bear with me.” You told him, moving his body. He was able to lift his hips just enough to where you could roll the bandage under his torso. You were glad he was looking better at that point. You had no clue if you were going to be able to move him yourself.

“Thank you.” Yeosang told you once you tightened the gauze.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled down at him.

“Yeosang.” He introduced himself. “My name is Yeosang.”

You felt your cheeks heat up with the look he gave you. It was warm, with a small smile playing on his lips. “Nice to meet you, Yeosang. I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice to see you’re still here, Sweetheart.” Wooyoung stuck his head through the windowsill, grinning at the two of you.

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes. Turning around in the chair, you noticed all seven of the men climb back through the window, each taking up space in the room once more.

“I see you’re awake, Yeosang.” You moved out of the way, avoiding coming in contact with the blue haired man.

While Yeosang told you they wouldn’t hurt you, he seemed to be the most hostile compared to the rest. At least when it came to his members.

“All thanks to the girl, Captain.” Yeosang spoke up.

“I brought you some food.” The one who hadn’t spoken to you yesterday grew closer to the bed with a plate in hand. “Jongho brought us a good amount of herbs and spices. Tried a new recipe.”

“Can you sit up?” Hongjoong asked.

San and Wooyoung moved to either side of Yeosang, helping the man sit up a bit more in bed. You flinched and were about to reach out when you noticed the man’s pained expression. But it quickly was wiped from his face.

“Thanks, Hwa.” Yeosang told the man as he spooned some food into his mouth.

You watched as they all seemed to get comfortable, arguing over the order in which the shower was to be used. They all joked together and it brought a smile to your face to notice how close they actually were. There was a lot you were missing to their story, but watching them you wouldn’t think they were criminals.

“I’ll take my leave.” You spoke up when they all settled down after Mingi had walked into the bathroom. Just as you were going to turn, a voice spoke up from the middle of the room.

“Thank you.” Hongjoong called out.

“No problem.” You answered. With one last glance at all the men, you moved the door open. Before walking out though, you spoke over your shoulder. “I do hope you know I’m going to charge extra for the stained sheets.

“What!?”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara ,

#ateez yunho #atiny #wooyoung #yeosang #choi san #atz #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez hongjoong #seonghwa #jongho #mingi #hongjoong #jeong yunho #yeosang x reader #ateez mingi #ateez fic

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crack-art-n-stuff · 8 months

Text

Obedient Service Dog

The corkboard was covered with papers, little notes, and maps. There were noted red pen marks crossing out one thing, circling another. It was a clear sign of the busy schedule ahead of you.

You crossed your arms as you looked over everything. Preparation for this heist took longer than you had liked, but you had a bit of a dislike for failure. Especially in areas of your expertise. You looked at the notes you made on security before moving that gaze to the lab map layout. Given the jackpot inside, the security personnel could be using different weaponry so as not to misfire near the chemicals, no?

"Boss, are you still looking over it?" A smooth voice came from behind you. "You should rest before this job."

Turning your head sideways, you noticed a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. "Didier. I could say the same to you."

Your loyal second in command took soft steps forward until he stood beside you. Both of you turned your gazes back at the map. You were aware you were prepared. It was clear in everything you were doing. Slowly, you just realized the small ache in your head. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Didier's attention was quickly on you.

"Boss, have you ever considered that you may be a workaholic?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Pot, meet Kettle."

You turned taking firm steps moved from the board to a nearby chair. He wasn't wrong, though. When was the last time you rested? You had recently been jumping from job to job, growing your reputation. Though, you wouldn't necessarily call it all your fault. If that damn hero wasn't around to cause you so much trouble, you believe you would rest a lot easier. Didier was also aware of that, rest assured.

Moving to stand before you, he kneeled on one knee. Even before he chose you, Didier had always had a bit of an ego. He was firm about what was and wasn't beneath him, and bowing down to anyone was, without a doubt, something that spat on his pride.

Anyone except you, of course.

He held his gaze down, with eyes unwavering, ready for anything you asked. If you told him to burn the world down for you, he'd ask if you would like s'mores after. If you wanted someone's head on a platter, he'd ask medium or well done. He was your ever-obedient service dog, following any command or action you needed of him. Nothing you could ever ask of him could ever be too much. He always had the will to find a way for you.

You slowly lifted your foot, ever so gently lifting his chin. His head obeyed without restraint, lifting his eyes to yours. It was something else, in his eyes. You both knew this thought well.

You don't NEED him.

But having him made your life easier.

It was a normal transaction for you. For him, it meant so much more. You could've chosen anyone on this earth. So many must have been tripping over themselves to be at your mercy, no? At least, they should've. But you trusted him enough to keep him by your side. It was a bit strange, your new norm with him. He always seemed to be there, as natural as a shadow. It gave you a feeling similar to stability rather than eeriness. However, you never got too comfortable. Should he abandon you like those before, you would still function properly.

Unknown to you, Didier would never abandon you. Even in death.

With a power like his, he was confident in his ability to make that so.

This was terrifying to him, at first. This obsession, desperation of and for you. It was a compulsion he was never about to fight. But he came to accept it. It had come to the point where, in his heart, you were akin to a deity. He couldn't breathe or process the world without you, anymore. To most, this state of vulnerability would be terrifying. The thought that you wanted your heart to beat for another, to breathe air for another, to use your hands and feet to deliver anything for another. But didn't want to do anything other than to do them for you and only you.

As you calmly stared down at him, you could see the look in his eyes. Was it passion? Determination? Love?

In truth, you constantly struggled to name that look in his eyes, but you could somewhat define it. It was as uncontained as a wildfire but as bottomless as an abyss. It sucked in everything around him yet reached out to you in such a forlorn fashion. There was so much, yet barely any words to describe it.

Gently, he held your ankle and foot before dipping his chin down to delicately leave a kiss on the tip of your shoe.

"Please rest, Boss. I will make sure everything goes according to your plans. Please comfortably rest your mind."

He always was a man of his word. By any means necessary.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male x reader #gender neutral reader #x y/n #villain reader #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere x you #male yandere #tw yandere

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doobnnoob-tf2 · 8 months

Note

The mercs on a road trip to who knows where. What are they each doing?

🧌

we're taking this vehicle-by-vehicle, so buckle up

ENGINEER'S TRUCK

Driver: Engineer

Passengers: Soldier, Demoman

Engineer insists he be taking the lead, and asks Demoman to man the map for him. he marked the path in pencil and didn't realize how many times both Demoman and Soldier would erase parts of it and redraw the line to take detours at first. he catches on by the third time they take an exit that made no sense at all and pulls over to demand he look at the map. this also started an argument between him and Sniper who wanted to just take the lead because he didn't need a map

Demoman sits in the passenger's seat, with the map. he mostly watches the world go by, occasionally attempting to reach over and turn the radio on, but would get his hand smacked because Engineer didn't want it on while he's trying to concentrate on the road. he and Soldier end up playing road games like I Spy, or their personal favorite: Punch Buggy. much to Engineer's dismay

Soldier takes the middle seat that is revealed when the center console is flipped up. he was told not to sit there but he did anyway. the reason being is he can't not shove his arm in front of Engineer's face to point out something on the side of the road. he also has snacks galore and there are crumbs everywhere that he says he'll clean out on their next stop but he doesn't. instead he runs inside the gas station to go get more and leaves Engineer to do it

MEDIC'S (stolen) VAN

Driver: Heavy

Passengers: Pyro, Medic

Heavy is the only choice for driver, not that he minds. Pyro can't drive, and no matter what Medic tries to say he legally is not allowed to drive. whether or not he stole the vehicle. he is a very serious driver and tends to dislike distractions of any kind, which is why he's glad there is no radio in the van. he follows behind Engineer, staying as close as he can to avoid losing sight of him without being too close

Medic reluctantly sits in the only passenger seat. he isn't happy about it and pouts for a good while at the beginning of the drive, but eventually he stops caring. he hates the silence and wants to talk, and after several attempts he finally annoys Heavy enough to get him to talk just so he'll stop poking at his face to get his attention. he relaxes more as Heavy starts to relax and chat with him, the two mostly trying to figure out where they hell they're even going since Engineer planned the whole trip and wouldn't tell anyone

Pyro stole Medic's office chair and sat it in the back of the van without anyone noticing. they duct taped themself to it and unlocked the rolling wheels do they could sit and roll around during the whole drive. it's during one of the gas stops that Heavy and Medic open the back and find out when they're trying to ask them if they want a snack. they have to be cut free from the tape, and someone helps them find a belt to use instead that'll be easier for them to get themself free from during stops

SNIPER'S CAMPERVAN

Driver: Sniper

Passengers: Scout, Spy

Sniper has one rule: driver controls the radio. he rolls the windows all the way down and blasts metal music as loud as he can during the whole drive. much to the annoyance of everyone around them, not that he cares. he sings along to it or gripes about how he could have made the drive so much more interesting than long stretches of boring highway and still got them there in good time. though after some time, the other two vehicles they're with notices the music has faded away, and Sniper's taken the other two on a different road trip. Spy's suggestion after Scout noticed some kind of oddities road sign

Spy sits on the other end of the bench in the cab of the camper, mostly reading a book and drumming his fingers along to the music on the outside of the door he's leaned against. however, when he gets tired of that, he puts the book away and starts egging Sniper on to just speed past everyone since they're the only three vehicles on the road. it takes a couple minutes of back and forth before he finally talks him into disobeying the rules of the road and pissing off Engineer as he zooms past loudly several times, taking over the radio when Engineer calls it to speak only in French before changing the frequency

Scout loves taking road trips with Sniper and Spy, always sitting in the middle of the bench. he knows it always starts with Sniper driving safe and eventually relenting to Spy's insistence that he could speed up. he loves the adrenaline rush of hearing the engine roar and the loud music. it's one of the few times he's quiet because he enjoys the banter between the two he's sitting in between when they both finally decide to let loose. especially when Spy starts getting into the music as well

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sharing one braincell

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cryptidfuckery · 11 months

Text

Alex's Guide to Being the Best Ever Client at a Hair Salon

Hi my name is Alex and I've been a hairdresser for about 6 years now. Obviously over that time I've come to learn what things clients do that make me very happy to see, so here's some tips on how to be the best ever client and make your hairdresser love you to pieces!

Also please note that this is coming from a relatively independent hair stylist. My salon does not have a receptionist or assistants, just the stylists. All tips should work across most salons though.

BOOKING AND CONSULTATIONS

When calling or otherwise directly messaging a salon or stylist to book an appointment, KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO COME IN. If you need to check your schedule, do it before or have it open before you make the call. This will speed up the booking process exponentially!

DON'T BOOK A SMALLER COLOR RPOCESS JUST TO GET IN. If you're booking online, do not choose a color process with less time just to fit in to the stylist's schedule if you actually want a longer process. By this i mean not booking a partial highlight when you actually want a full. We will not be able to accommodate you, and will either have to leave you with the shorter process or reschedule you on another day when we would actually have the time to deliver what you want.

UNDERSTAND THEIR CANCELLATION POLICY. I know they can be annoying, but let me put it this way. When you are booking with a stylist, you're not booking a service, you're booking our TIME so we can provide the service you want. If you cancel last minute or no-show, you are costing us money that we could have made back by booking other clients. Especially on big ticket services that take hours. Cancellation policies allow us to y'know... still make rent.

YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT... BUT... Part of a stylist's job is to ask the right questions to figure out exactly what you want out of your color, style, or texture. If you don't know exactly what you want, BE READY TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND MAKE DECISIONS. We are trying to get on the same page as you so you will leave happy.

If you are coming in for a color that is more work than just an all over color or root touch up (aka single process), please do a tiny bit of research into what you'd like. You don't need to know EVERYTHING, but for reference showing a search for "BRUNETTE WITH HIGHLIGHTS" isn't going to narrow it down as much as a search for "DARK BRUNETTE WITH NATURAL WARM HIGHLIGHTS" would. A good stylist should be able to ask the right questions to get down to what you want, but this will make it much easier and quicker.

On that note, DEAR FUCKING LORD WE LOVE PICTURES, SHOW US PICTURES. BRING US YOUR PINTREST BOARD. SHOW US THAT TIKTOK YOU SAW. It's one sure fire way for us to physically see what you're talking about, and a good starting point to then ask qualifying questions with a reference! It doesn't mean we can 100% make it happen, but it helps us get on the same page you're on and see what you're looking to achieve.

Last but not least, research your stylists! Check what they specialize in, see if you can find any of their work posted online. Finding a stylist can sometimes be like finding a therapist, you have to find the one that's right for you (both in personality and technique). Don't feel bad about switching stylists; if your old one kicks a fuss they weren't the right one for you anyway. You deserve to be taken care of by a person you're comfortable with, and who delivers the service you want to your standards.

The hair industry is. Fucking huge. There's so many of us. You can literally call and book a consultation for a cut or color without getting it done that day. You can do that at 5 different salons before deciding. If they get weird about it just say you had a bad experience with an old stylist that you'd rather not get into. There is always options for another stylist.

BEST BEHAVIOR IN THE CHAIR

#1 thing i wish i could tell my clients without being rude: phone goes away for the haircut. Color is more lax, we don't always need your head in a specific position to apply it. Hair cutting completely relies on the position of the head, especially for the perimeter length of your hair. If you are looking down at your phone the whole time, the haircut will not come out as good. We also will be asking you to move to other positions, so we need at least some of your attention. It's also so we as hair stylists aren't having to contort our body into weirder shapes to cut your hair.

To piggyback off that, it's also because of the cape. Best client thing to do is once that cape is on you, make sure it's draped fully over the arms of the chair you're in. We'll take care of the back. The cape is there to protect you from getting hair or color on yourself, but it can't work unless you are completely covered by the cape. Including arms. (I'm looking at the fucking phone again >:( )

When you are in the sink, your nose should be pointing toward the ceiling while you are being washed. This allows us to not drench your face or neck when we are washing your hairline around your face. If your nose isn't pointing toward the ceiling, ask if you are able to readjust.

Best ever tip for in the sink: if the stylist is lifting your head up to rinse the nape of your neck, do not lift your whole neck. Crane your head forward while keeping the base of your neck secure to the sink. This will help you avoid getting water down your back. Your stylist might cup their hand at your nape, just lean back into it like you were a rag doll. We don't want to get you wet, but you gotta trust us with your head at the sink.

If you wanna get an A+ as a client, watch how they fix the chair at the sink for you to get in. The clients that put their own feet up or adjust themself to the right position (after an appointment or two with them) are my loves. my life. yes babe make yourself comfortable, you're doin my job for me.

If you are looking for extra styling past a blowdry (IE: curling iron or flat iron), let us know at the beginning of the service. This can take more time or is an extra charge, so letting us know in advance can allow us to communicate that to you or make sure we have the time to provide the service you want.

And probably my best tip/hack for all my introverted or neurodivergent people nervous about having to keep up small talk. Before or after the consultation, when they inevitably ask how you are or how your day has been, repeat after me: "I've had a really long day/week and I'm looking forward to closing my eyes, relaxing, and being pampered." This will signify that YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK other than what needs to be communicated. If they press, just say work or school has been really hard and stressing you out, so you booked this to relax and have some personal quiet time. Heavy on the relax people. Then just fuckin vibe bro.

If we ever give you our number to text, ask if we cant coffee. Ouughhghgh give us a coffe we love a fucking coffefee. Or ask your stylist what their favorite treat is. Just lil things like that. It's like an extra tip for us!

FINISHING AND PAYING

So your service is done! Make sure you check it out yourself and ask for any adjustments. Remember, you're the one leaving with your hair on your head, and will have to live with it until you return to the salon. If you need something fixed or adjusted, ask! A good stylist will prompt you.

Ask how tips are accepted. You can do it during the service or at checkout, but asking is always appreciated! Not all salons allow you to tip on card, but cash will never be turned away. Venmo is also extremely common.

I work in the USA where a 20% tip is the norm. If you can't afford that, don't worry. If you can't tip at all, don't worry. We don't know you financial situation, and we are in no place to judge that. You still deserve to get the service you want. More often than not if you talk to us about it, we will absolutely be sympathetic. If your stylist kicks a fuss about a tip they get (or don't get), drop them and find someone else.

That being said... yes we like it when you tip more than 20%. Of course we do, it's more money directly to us for doing our job. But I'll be honest with you, I will go out of my way for a kind client i get along with that tips 5% the same way I'll go out of my way for a difficult client who tips 100%.

If you like us, rebook! By having an appointment already in the system you're guaranteeing a time for you to get back in. And if you can't make it, you can cancel it or reschedule. It will help your stylist's rebooking data, which can help them within the salon depending how the business is set up. Sometimes stylists have to reach a certain percentage threshold of rebooking to move up a level of prices or get a higher percentage of commission.

Last but not least, if you're chatting with your stylist after the service, be aware of two things. 1) do they have their next client waiting for them? 2) are you their last client? If either of these are true, try not to linger. We hate having to do the "Well, I've gotta get to my next client/start cleaning up to go home." This can change as you form a deeper relationship with your stylist over the years (sometimes even a friendship!), but please remember that we are at our job.

As of right now that's all I can think of. If I come up with anything else I'll reblog and add on. And please feel free to shoot me an ask if you have a question I didn't answer here, or want to know more about something I mentioned.

But finally I will leave you with this.

Yes, the hair stylist is the expert in hair. Yes, we can give you advice about your style. But here's the thing. When you walk out of the salon door, we aren't the one's dealing with your hair day to day. Even if you don't think you know a lot about hair, YOU ARE THE EXPERT ON THE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD. YOU are the expert on what you do and don't want to look like. We're the tool to get it done. Remember that!

#mmmm been a while since i made a long ass fucking post like this #hope yall like #please ask clarifying questions if you need it!#also yes this is long as fuck #i am nearly incapable of doing anything else when it comes to shit like this #also i barely proofread it so like. idk. good luck

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nerdieforpedro · 4 months

Text

Don't know what you mean

Part one of the Roc & Roc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size female reader (Doc)

This fic is for general audiences.

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Main Masterlist / Tim Rockford Masterlist / Roc & Doc Series

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: obsessive behavior, Stealing, discussion of stomach contents, food references (did you think I wouldn't?), mentions of crimes

Summary: You know it's wrong, but you haven't stopped taking them for months. He's going to find out one way or another. How are you going to handle it when he figures it out?

Notes: Because 2024 appears to be my year of writing challenges, I decided to use a prompt I saw on @creativepromptsforwriting blog for a weekend game. It was fun using a prompt but at the same time hard? I usually don't use prompts, All my craziness is marinating up there. 😎 I also took this as an opportunity to write Tim Rockford! I've actually wanted to write him for a while, but wasn't sure how. Here we are. Anything about police and Med. examiners I know from TV and for that I apologize in advance.

I got #799 which gave me the following prompt: "Sometimes it was much easier just to steal something than to ask for it." I don't know if I stuck to it or not. 🫢

As your friend told you the other day when you were grinning about how it’s been three months since you started taking his pens, “You should just tell him you like him. You’re pulling his metaphorical pigtails.”

She also told you, “that isn’t pride you feel when you do it and see him flustered. Think lower Doc.”

“You’re thinking lower, in the gutter! It’s just a pen and eventually, I will figure out what restaurant it is. I don’t need to ask him and as good as a homicide detective he is, he still has no idea who took all his pens thus far.”

Your friend calls you a weirdo for taking and keeping this man’s pens. You admit, it’s not something a sane person, let alone what a medical examiner would do. But also, he’s gotta notice eventually right? Then Detective Rockford will be hungry, because murder makes him famished and you can suggest Chinese food. Then you’ll know the name of the damn place because he should be getting all the perks and rewards from whatever little hole in the wall food place this is. It’s been bugging you that you’ve asked others in the bullpen and they don’t know, how can they not know, haven’t they worked with him longer than you have?

Fast forward to one late night of many in your office, writing up reports on your findings and listening to some lo-fi music from your bluetooth speaker. You’re trying to find ways to describe the victim's stomach contents. Bile of course, but noodles, part of a fortune cookie and a few pieces of beef that you could make out. It also had arsenic in it, high levels to where they had clearly been poisoned. Your stomach is growling and you’re just trying to finish this last report before going to get something to eat. Your fingers dance across the keys as you write, wondering if it’s going to be another burger or maybe a taco tonight. Heavy steps echo down the hallway toward your office, you’re familiar with them and have come to welcome them on the frequent late nights.

The trenchcoat is what you see first. It’s not your first time seeing it, but it always made you giggle, his elbow leans on the doorframe as does his hip. He has his glasses on, rare when he’s not reading or editing his murder boards. His broad frame dilled the majority of the doorway as you glanced up from your screen. He threw you a nod as you waved him in, long legs bringing him to one of the two chairs in front of your desk. “Hey Doc, still working?” He relaxed into the chair, leaning a little to his right, his brown eyes scanning your desk. It was actually neat for once. You’d taken the time to clean and organize it after not being able to find a case file. Can’t let that happen again.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you aren’t Rockford. I’m finishing up with the poisoning. There’s nothing specific about the arsenic though. It’s so common it could have come from anywhere. It’s the concentration that’s the kicker. That what you’re here about Columbo?”

“The case always comes first, but I have a different case I’m working on. It’s a subtle one. One that was clearly thought out and took planning. And I’m surprised you know about Columbo, that’s good. I’ll also accept the compliment, like me he had a full head of hair.” Tim explains leaving you curious. You couldn't recall another intersecting active case. The others were fairly straightforward. Blunt force trauma, stabbings, a couple drownings and animal attacks. How people still don’t get to leave bears and coyotes alone is beyond you. “It’s not a homicide. It’s theft. Very petty theft.” He’s rolling his wrist while he explains, almost like he’s hypnotizing you, but your own cough brings you out of it. “I don’t understand what would motivate a person to continually do something so benign but also annoying.” He grins, “You alright there Doc? Want me to get you a bottle of water out of your mini-fridge?” He stands and grabs himself one, offering you one without waiting for your answer. You just nod and cough a bit more, clearing your throat before gulping the water down.

The time has likely come. You’re sure he knows you’ve been taking his pens. So petty, not befitting of a well-adjusted adult, but you’re not are you? Tim reclaims his seat and scoots it back to allow for him to spread his legs to set his elbows on. He learns forward and takes a swig from the bottle. A little of the water gracing his bottom lip to which he licks off. “Thanks Rockford, for the water.” You manage to exhale after holding your breath and sit back in your own chair, trying to move away from him in such a small space. He’s still on the other side of your desk, but he’s too imposing and you feel guilty.

“You’re welcome Doc. Now, this culprit has been tricky and I honestly didn’t notice at first. I’ve always been pretty absent-minded when it came to pens. I usually use the same one until the thing doesn’t write anymore. But, Stevenson, even though he is a tool, did buy me two sets of black ball-point Sharpie pens. He was a bit of an ass saying I needed those to read my own notes. They can’t be chicken scratch and a thin wisp of a line.” Tim rattled on. You wondered if this is what he did with his suspects, left them dangling while he had them circling and spinning in their heads like you are now. The water bottle crunches in your hand from the pressure you’re putting on it and you set it down, opting to take hold of the armrests of your chair. You had splurged on a wider one for yourself that would accommodate your hips and thighs since you do spend many an hour dictating and typing notes. Rockford’s head cocked to the side as he watched you.

“Tell me why I see those same pens here on your desk in your little cup here and why you’ve been taking them Doc. I know it’s you, I just want to know why. You’re…” Tim paused for a moment, “particular but I didn’t think petty. I also can’t think of anything we've disagreed or had an issue with each other about.” Closing your eyes, you knew this moment would come, it’s so stupid. You’re a grown woman stealing pens, but it was easier than just asking. Your friend had been right, you’ve got too much pride.

“Tim.” You start, you’ve got to sell it. Hard. You lean forward and mimic his body language, elbows on your desk, trying your damnedest to look calm. Your armpits feel hot though. “Your pens are better than mine. I could have went out and bought them myself. I’m not hurting for money, but they were right there. I got one, and I just had to have more of them. They write so smoothly and fit in my hand just right.” You even gestured your hands like you were scribbling on top of a folder. This had to be the end of it right? “I’m sorry I took your pens. I will buy you new ones and work will be a little awkward but it will pass eventually.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, trying to reassure him. It would be totally weird working with him now, especially since he’s the lead homicide detective on so many cases, but this is the grave you dug yourself.

Rockford’s face could have been made of stone. You swear the entire time you spoke he didn’t move. “Hmmm…Thanks for the apology Doc but what is the real reason? Because it was over months and you gave yourself away every time you watched me look for a pen. Even offered me one yourself at times. I kept running through different motives you could have but none of them make any sense.” Tim reached into his coat pocket and removed his handy notebook. Turning to presumably, where said motives are written, and showed you where he had crossed out the following:

Botched case?

Improper conduct?

Evidence misuse?

Autopsy issues?

Stopping by her office without notice?

Talking to her in general?

All were crossed out and you felt that same feeling of pride in your chest and belly. You remembered your friend’s words, “that isn’t pride you feel when you do it and see him flustered. Think lower Doc.” But it was kinda cool to be in the lauded detective’s notebook. He thought about you and looked back on your interactions. As it relates to you stealing his pens, but still thought about you. It’s nice in a twisted way.

Tim snapped his fingers and put his notebook back, standing up and pressing his palms down on your desk. “This is a really weird game to play, Doc. Do you have some sort of grudge against me? If so, why? If not, then what is it? What’s your goal here?”

You shrink back from his intense stare, eyes boring into you. Gripping onto your armrests again, you just stare at his chest, speaking to it rather than him. It was easier to not see the disappointment on his face as you feel so ashamed.

“It was easier to lift your pens while I looked in your office for that damn menu! Why don’t you have one?! You eat there at least twice a week, I figured I’d take something and you’d ask me why I’d been in your office and then I could bring it up, but after the first month, it felt really weird and I liked seeing the great Tim Rockford panicking over a pen! I’m crazy, okay?!” As you spoke, Tim grew a shit eating grin that presented itself to you when you finally met his gaze.

“You could have just asked Doc. I don’t have the menu anymore because I memorized the number and address along with the food options. Because I eat there so often.” The low rumble of laughter as he stood to his full height made you cover your face. It was worse than imagined, you might leave in a huff and ignore you except for cases. But this was worse, he is laughing at you. A large hand pats your shoulder, “Doc, you’re hilarious. You’re in your head too much. Next time just ask and stop stealing my damn pens. You are buying those pens you promised me though.”

“You’re not mad Rockford?” You asked, your face felt like an inferno as you still hid it. Tim pulled his hands back and walked around to your side of the desk, leaning on it as he moved your hands. You still couldn’t make eye contact with him again.

“Having my pens stolen isn’t the worst people have done over the years. It is one of the weirdest though. Come on, I was going to go get something to eat. I’ll show you where the Chinese food place is.” Rockford assured you and finished his water before tossing in the trash can. He stood by the door and waited for you to save your work, and put on your coat. You grabbed your bag to follow Tim out.

“I’ll have your pens for you later this week. I promise and I’ll pay for the food tonight.” You offered as Tim held the door open for you, making your way to your own car he stopped walking.

“Where are you going? I’m not hopping in a pen thief’s car. What might happen to me in there? Thievery could just be the tip of the iceberg with you. We’re taking mine.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re going to call me that for a long time aren’t you? And I wouldn’t harm you. I’ve been stealing your pens, that doesn’t translate to murder. Damn Homicide detective.” You mumbled the last sentence. Hopefully he doesn't really think you’d murder him right?

“Yes I will, you thieving doctor. Petty crimes often lead to major ones. You know that. Get in, we’re getting some lo mien.” Rockford opened your door and you hopped in, excited to finally taste the Chinese food again. Tim smiled softly at your excitement and started the car, taking off into the night. White take out boxes awaited you both.

Part Two

Pens that fit into Rockford's hand ✍🏼: @sin-djarin @secretelephanttattoo @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @magpiepills @fhatbhabie @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @rhoorl @laurfilijames @avastrasposts @linzels-blog @frenchiereading @goodwithcheese @pamasaur @morallyinept @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @readingiskeepingmegoing @guelyury @pascalsanctuary @legendary-pink-dot @musings-of-a-rose @clawdee @pedritapascal @sp00kymulderr @grogusmum @alltheglitterandtheroar @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey

#tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tim rockford x plus size reader #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #Tim rockford fluff #tim rockford x you

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

Enjolras grabbing you and holding you up against a wall for a quick fuck super dirty just shoving clothes aside panting into your neck

author’s note: i realize writing for enjolras can be a tricky but to anyone seeing this and not agreeing with the way i wrote it, don’t bother me, because frankly i don’t care lol. anyways, that being said, to those of you that do read this, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bbc!enjolras, fem!reader, canon divergence, unprotected sex, semi-public but clothed, mentions of drinking, this was literally just a reason to write for enjolras to see how people liked it/how i would enjoy writing him, so if it flops, this didn’t happen. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.6k

You’d wasted nearly a month of your time infiltrating their rebellion under your father’s order—and it had been going well, not a single hendrence in your plans until a very unfortunate night, on the precipice of courageous attack being led by Enjolras himself, speaking out in a boastful manner to his people at these sacred meetings—it gave many hope that things could change, that they had a fighting chance. In your eyes, it was all lies. You came from the other side, experienced how they lived, the power they had—it was a battle he was going to lose regardless of how passionate he was for it. He was outnumbered, easy to outsmart, and despite his passion for the cause, he was blinded by it.

You felt sympathy, it was why you were able to fit yourself in so easily, so well—he never questioned your intentions for a second, swearing by the look of determination in your eye, your willingness to throw out ideas, boost the morale—but if there was one thing about him, it was that he knew just the right things to say, even to the people who didn’t believe it. He was great at convincing people to believe lies, acting like he had the answer to everything and everyone’s problems.

It would be easier if there wasn’t a war at all, but it seemed like the only way to solve issues now, fight first and solve things later.

The first night you end up alone with him isn’t intentional. It’s a late night at the bar, your tired figure nestled up in a chair in a dark corner of the room, Enjolras nursing his drink from the other end, watching as his friends parted ways. You had a bed to sleep in, a lavish home to keep you safe, but you wanted nothing more than to be away from that, if even for just a moment.

Enjolras tells you of his background, how he grew up, why he cared about the things that he did—and it made you realize that under all his anger and crazed acts, he was a lot like you. If not, he was more sure of himself than you. You were lost, fighting between right and wrong and only doing what your father had ordered, but you could feel it in your bones—this wasn’t right.

They had every reason to fight against the more fortunate; the richer, arrogant, mindless people running the show—they were all just as horrible as everyone assumed and you’d seen it firsthand.

Your backstory is simple—you came from nothing, were nothing, and you were tired of living that way. You’ve practiced it for weeks, making it all seem as believable as possible. He believes it, at least, he acts like he does.

From that point on, and the weeks follow, Enjolras turns to you every night, both of you staying later than necessary to talk about the day and complain about nonsense, sometimes sitting in the silence, listening to the other conversations in the establishment, watching as Enjolras separated the food on his plate, sharing with you.

You never went hungry, not when you were being served several course meals most nights, but you played along anyways.

Enjolras is dedicated to the cause with an obscured ambition and it feels like maybe you won’t be able to break-through to him, relying on the fact that maybe you could seduce him enough to have him slip-up, even the smallest tidbit of information.

Your father was growing angry, more and more upset that you were coming home empty-handed.

Until another night leads to several drinks, Enjolras leaning over you as he grabbed for the liquor, a sated smile pasted over his face. He didn’t smile often, not genuinely, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

“Darling, you’re going to clean this place out, you know?” He comments, voice thick as he swallowed the bitter alcohol.

“Must you insult me like that?” You tease, “I am a lady, after all.”

Enjolras gives you a look, one that’s calling your bluff outright.

“I am,” You squeak, shoving him away playfully, “Shall I prove it?”

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, considering it.

“I’m not being serious.” You tell him before he can answer.

“Yes, darling. I’m aware.” He tells you, “It does not make the idea any less intriguing though, I must admit.”

You snort softly, grabbing at your peacoat and shrugging it over your shoulders, “I think you’re at your limits, Enjolras.”

He peers at the bottle, holding it up to shine under the light, only enough for a small sip left in the bottle. He still seemed as sturdy as a rock, just more relaxed, less worrisome.

“I think you are right.” He agrees with a giddy laugh, pressing the bottle back against the table, the uneven weight of it causing the glass to rock, rattling to a stop. “Leaving already?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You tell him, rising from your seat. It doesn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, fingers pressed gently against your ring and middle, an unthought attempt to stop you. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Tomorrow.” He tells you simply, eyes unnerving as he glances toward the floor, around the room, before landing back on you.

“Where?” You inquire, knowing full well what he meant.

“Outside the wine shop, if things go south.”

It was the piece of information you so desperately needed, giving the other side even more of a fighting chance—your face fell slightly, nodding in response as you shrugged your hand away.

“Sleep well, Enjolras.” You tell him before fleeing without another word, disregarding the few goodbyes you receive, feet carrying you faster than you can manage yourself, stumbling over your feet as you round the corner outside the bar, disappearing down a dark alley.

You take a long breath, body relaxed as you feel the weight drift from your chest, removing the coat you had shrugged on as you felt hot, overheated, throwing it to the ground angrily.

“Running home to daddy, I assume?” His voice travels like an echo down the long, dark alley.

Your hand clutches over your chest, heart feeling like it’s going to burst. You muffle the scream with your other hand, staring at the dark figure as it approaches—his face was cold, eerily void of emotion.

“Enjolras, please.” You beg, knowing there was no using in lying. If he knew, he’d known for a while.

He huffs a vindicte laugh, pulling uncomfortably at the right ascot around his neck. “Is that where you go every night?”

“Enjolras, you do not understand.” You ignore his question, trying to level with him.

“I believe I do, darling.” He responds tensely, “How would he feel knowing you’ve been fraternizing so closely with the enemy? I thought it was all business with you monarchy people.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” You retort, “You are no different—only because you’re fighting against them you think that makes you better? You come from the same life that I do, do not try and belittle me.”

“So that, back there, that was only an act?”

The flirting, he means. You’d never considered he cared, giving his unwavering attention to his own cause, you didn’t think he cared that much. But clearly, you were wrong.

“Isn’t all of it?” You retort.

“You tell me, darling.” Enjolras challenges, taking a brave step forward, forcing you to stumble back against the wall. “Are you really going to allow all of these lives to be lost? Are you going to run back home and tell him everything?”

You shove him away weakly, eyes glaring harshly.

“It is no business of yours, Enjolras.” You tell him firmly, “Give this up, come fight with us—you’re on the side that has no chance, you do realize?”

“Are you trying to convince me?” He asks, “My love, you must try harder.”

“You’re infuriating.” You complain, “Your voice, your attitude—I'd rather hinder my hearing if that meant not having to listen to your voice again.”

It’s not the route he’s expecting you to take, but two can play at that game. The frustration was building, boiling over, and he could see it in the way your body canted toward him inconspicuously, despite your vile words.

His touch ghosts over your hip, pulling at the shirt tucked loosely in your britches, squeezing at the soft skin.

“Likewise.” He agrees, watching as you rested your hand against the him of his trousers, traveling up his dirtied shirt, over his vest, pulling at the ascot until it came loose. “Now, let us see if I can change your mind, yes?”

Enjolras gently yanks the red material of his ascot from your hands, taking his time as he wraps it around your head, knot settling between your teeth as you bite down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Not a word,” He warns, “Understood?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, letting him shift you until your front is pressed against the brick wall, his hands sifting through the layers of clothing shared between you both until he’s free enough that he can fist his cock, the hard ridge of it pressed against the curve of your ass, his hands squeezing soft at the flesh of your thigh, traveling up enough to tap against the innermost flesh, motioning for you to spread your legs slightly.

His calloused fingers drag over your folds, finding their way to the center and covering his fingers in your slick, moan muffled around the soft fabric shoved into your mouth.

“They’re probably worried sick,” Enjolras comments, “wondering where you are, if you’re hurt—if they only knew.”

You make a noise of defiance, pressing back against his fingers, the pad of his middle nudging against your clit, eyes squeezed shut in response.

You’ve been deprived of touch for so long that this felt needed, wanted—and even the smallest touch had your eyes rolling back, keening against him. He gives no warning when he slips inside, though his movements are slow. He’s responding to your noises, the soft clenches of your walls around the tip of his cock as he moves in small thrusts, groans muffled behind his clenched teeth.

“Women like you don’t deserve to be bed properly,” He comments harshly, “are they attempting to marry you off already?”

You shake your head furiously, allowing him to grasp your hands behind your back, shoving your body gingerly against the harsh texture of the wall—it’s a stark contrast to the way he’s consuming you, but you don’t question it.

“I figured as much,” He comments lowly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, panting harshly as he increases his speed, the ferocity of it, a startling gasp slipping from your lips, failing to be muffled by the fabric. Enjolras’s hand cups over your mouth, “Quiet,” He orders harshly, “do you not listen?”

Again, you shake your head. If you did, you would’ve never ended up in this situation. Enjolras leans back slightly, loose grip on your hands as he pulls out slowly, thrusting into you harshly, watching as his cock disappeared inside of you, squeezing at the soft globes of your ass.

“You drive me mad in the worst ways,” Enjolras admits, “but you are divine, you know?”

You make a noise, drawing his attention up. He sighs, pulling the fabric from your mouth, pressing a single finger against your lips to warn you of your volume.

“How so?” You ask quietly, teasingly, hoping it gets under his skin.

“You fit me perfectly,” He acknowledges, “such a shame you were ready to betray me so easily.”

“I had you fooled,” You chide, confidence seeping through, “for a while, at least.”

Enjolras releases your hands, his own palms spreading over the expanse of your back, forcing the shirt up higher as he grips your hips, pulling you tight against him. Your palms slapped against the wall, held there for support.

“I could teach you things,” He tells you softly, “things you haven’t even come to understand—I’d make you realize which side you should be fighting for, you’d never want to leave.”

“So, you’re not hoping for your—your cock to do the job?” You stammer out, whining softly with each movement of his hips. “I thought that was the point of all this?”

“Partly.”

“I’m not dull, Enjolras. I have higher education, I know—why do you think I agreed with my father so—so easily,” It’s redundant, he doesn’t answer, “I hate their stance just as much as you, but they are my family. I cannot abandon them.”

“A shame,” He seethes, reaching around your front to palm roughly at your breasts, pulling you back against him, other hand slipping over your cunt, circling your clit furiously, “—at least I have this to remember you by.”

You’ve never been with anyone like this—it’s usually slow, sensual, sweet. This was nothing but anger and frustration, hatred for the same cause, but fighting on two different sides. It was a battle, deep rooted in confusion.

“Knowing you may die tomorrow?” You ask tensely, stalling his movements slightly. “This is how you wanted to spend your final night? If it must be?”

“I liked you better quiet.” He spits at you.

You laugh brokenly, the harsh pass over your clit sending you over the edge, cunt clenching around him as buries himself deep inside, coming with little warning as he attempts to pull out, but held still by the hand forcing him there, buried into his shirt as you both ride out the high of your orgasms, moaning into the silence of the night, both of you barely visible at this hour from the lack of a full moon. His mouth rests against the back of your neck, nose buried into the back of your hair, most of it piled up messily atop your head.

“You’re at risk of dying, too—if not more than me. These people, they’re passionate. If they find out—“

“Will they?” You ask quietly, hearing the faint rustle of his pants as he pulls out of you.

You turn, connecting eyes with him. He seems hesitant to answer.

“Oh, darling—don’t be coy now. You come inside of me, threatening me with the burdance of bearing your child if fate has it that way, and now you can’t even look my way?”

“That’s not—“ He begins, shaking his head.

“You men are all the same.” You tell him harshly, “Just because what you think you’re doing is right, it doesn’t make you a good person.”

“My love—“ He begins.

“Calling me that doesn’t make it so,” You retort, “you hated me just a few moments ago, am I wrong?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He admits, “Not before, not during the rebellion.”

You smile tightly, adjusting your clothes back to their original place, reaching down to fetch your coat.

“How sweet,” You tell him, patting his chest, “I guess we shall see how tomorrow goes, that should determine where this takes us.”

But unfortunately, you had a sneaking suspicion that none of this would end well, for either of you.

“Stay,” He tells you, “for a few more hours, that’s all I ask.”

You’re hesitant, every morsel of your being telling you otherwise. You ignore it, allowing yourself to enjoy what may be your last night.

“Another bottle and you have a deal, Enjolras.” You barter, watching the grin grow on his face—because despite how much he wanted to hate you, he wasn’t sure he could. Given the time he had gotten to know you, learn about you, he had to believe there was a part of you that would do the right thing,

Although, it was much too late for that.

“After you, darling.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#bbc!enjolras #enjolras x reader #enjolras x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #enjolras x you #enjolras x y/n #jq!enjolras #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn smut #my writing

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bigassmoonchild · 8 months

Note

please enjoy the email i had to send our favourite team because of them being pure gremlins { i have known most of them since i was 18 so 7 years }

just to fluster them the hell out and since im at my main job tonight and cannot do it myself

can we get the 141 ones reactions

{ never thought to request reactions until the latest one about crocheting which i total understand }

this is my third time trying to answer this. both times i initially tried tumblr closed me out of the submission and deleted the entire thing. i will answer all other asks tomorrow 🫶🫶

(also, why is croissant banned? who did what with croissant? and if your team is good, i am always more than happy to write them little drabbles or hcs 😉 )

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

initially, he walked past the medbay door. he briefly saw the sign on the door but didn't think much of it. until he fully registered what it said. spinning around and marching back the way he had come, he pulled it off the door and read it.

fully. he read all of it and had to pause for a few moments to gather his thoughts. what the hell? why did you have to write this? who caused you to write this? he had too many questions that he didn't exactly want answered.

almost worried, but just more confused than anything. simon wasn't entirely sure what to think about the paper, but he knew the only way to figure it out would be through questions. he didn't entirely need them answered, but it would be nice to know. he almost didn't want them answered.

still, simon found himself entering your office and laying the paper down in front of you. your head turned to the side, looking almost flustered at the fact that he had seen the paper. you didn't give an answer, and so he sat down in the chair across from you, staring nearly through you.

sighing deeply, you looked up from the paperwork and gave him a little grimace. 'what?' you asked. simon once more gestured to the paper in front of you.

'what's this?' was all he asked and you looked away again. biting at your lip, you picked it up to read it over. 'stop stalling,' he told you and you heaved a deep sigh.

you didn't make eye contact. 'we've read a book together, my squad 'n i,' you started. 'it made a lot of comments and little quips start. then they started to argue about certain parts of the book and well,' you gestured at the paper.

he nodded slowly in understanding, standing up and grabbing the paper to return it to where he'd found it. turning around, he held it up and raised his brow. 'ghosts medical blower?'

Captain John Price:

the way to the mess hall had him pass by your office, and so he figured he'd bring some paperwork meant for you. kill two birds with one stone, it would be easier than running back and forth later on.

placing the files and others miscellaneous papers down, he nearly missed it. just one quick glance brought all of his attention to one piece of paper, just barely uncovered by other random items strewn across your desk.

The below terms are banned:

and so he read it. curiosity killed the cat, so to speak, but the satisfaction of knowing what this was did not bring it back. all price could do was stare for a few moments, just trying to think through it. and as he thought, he knew he did not want answers.

it was either some new terms and language that people were using but he wasn't caught up on, or it really was just some strange thing within your own squad. either way, he tucked the paper away so that you wouldn't know he saw it.

when you returned to your office, you knew price saw the paper. it was tucked between a few files and some of the papers he'd given you. you wanted to give him answers, you wanted to let him know what it was, but you didn't. maybe he'd come to you, or maybe you'd just moved it without realizing.

he didn't meet your eye for a few days, loking a little worriedly at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

you weren't one to email him. you almost never did, unless it was absolutely important that he be added. so when he opened up his email after a long mission, he found one from you with no subject line.

to be honest, he was a little worried about what it might be. maybe spam? did someone hack your account? he wasn't sure, but gaz wanted to make sure it wasn't anything important.

he almost wishes he didn't read that email. almost wishes he had just left it alone, especially without a subject line. and so when he'd gotten to 'ghosts medical blower' he closed the email and deleted it.

it had to be a joke. he wouldn't admit it, but it made him a little flustered to read some of that stuff. did people really think of his lieutenant like that? especially those working so closely with him?

and he'd found you, in your office typing away. standing awkwardly for a few moments, gaz looked around the room. he wasn't often in your office, especially not regarding these types of situations.

when you'd finally looked up at him, raising your brows expectantly, he could barely get the words out. 'you sent me an email,' was all he could say. you nodded, giving him a confused look.

'i send a lot of people emails, gaz, you need to be more specific,' you told him. he didn't meet your eye, just looked around and nodded slowly.

finally opening his mouth, he gave you a little grimace. 'some terms needed to be banned?' he asked and watched your eyes widen. covering your hand with your mouth, you clicked and tpyed a few things before sighing in relief.

'lord, gaz, that was absolutely not meant for you,' you whispered, clearly flustered and not meeting his eye. 'i am so, so sorry about that,' you looked at him briefly.

he gave you a little smile, finally making eye contact. 'all is forgiven if you tell me what it's about,'

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish:

you were a tough nut to crack. soap spent weeks trying to wear you down to the point where you'd become comfortable enough with him that you would talk with him freely. and when it happened, he was ecstatic.

but he never expected this to happen. you'd handed him a few papers absentmindedly as you walked by him, giving him an affirmative sound when he'd asked if it was for him to read. and so he read them.

when he'd gotten to the one paper, he had to rub his eyes. he was tired, sure it had been a long day, but soap was positive he was dreaming. you would never just give him this paper, not without context.

and so he found you, waving it around in front of your face and giving you a cheeky smile. with a quick glance, you'd jumped up and tried to rip the paper out of his grasp. soap was faster, though, and easily held it out of your reach.

'now what's this, lass, about being ghosts medical blower?' he asked you and you huffed angrily. shoving at his shoulders, you tried harder to get the paper back.

he tsked at you, waiting for an explanation. 'my squad's been reading some weird stuff online, and they're making comments and it's turned nearly into an argument over some things,' you told him. he howled with laughter at that, bending over to catch himself from falling.

you'd snatched the paper from him and turned around. and that's how, for the next four or five weeks, you found yourself at the end of his jokes. all of them seemed to somehow mention some term or phrase mentioned in the paper he'd read.

it took you elbowing him in the stomach and making your own comments about him before he finally put it behind him. soap may have found it and made a copy, which sits hung on on his wall in the flat back home.

#simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley #john price #kyle garrick #john mctavish #ghost mw2 #price mw2 #gaz mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #call of duty x reader #call of duty #no use of y/n #fluff

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wishitweresummer · 9 months

Text

Now How Do You Want It (Dream x GeorgeNotFound x Sapnap)

Word count: 5363

Warning: Intense tickling, restraints, and mouth tickles.

((This series is called Glass House! Previous part: Now Admit It.))

Surprisingly, it was Dream who got annoyed first. He just didn’t really understand. His brain was always trying to logic everything out, while Sapnap just kind of got and accepted that George acted illogically sometimes.

Luckily, Dream’s confusion and annoyance really only just led to more flustering situations than anything. Since neither boy ever judged George, his feelings were never hurt.

Dream smiled at Sapnap and waved as the younger boy left the house; off to go skate. Then, he grinned.

“George!”, he called. He walked into the kitchen and listened.

“What?”, George sounded distant… in his room. Dream bounded down the hall and knocked on the door once before entering the room and closing the door fast behind him. George startled in his gaming chair. “What are you doing?”.

“Get on the bed, I want to talk.”, Dream said with a step towards the smaller boy. George’s cheeks brightened and he giggled.

“Dream, what!”.

“Bed.”.

George stared back up at him with those dark eyes and he could see the cogs turning behind them. Dream scoffed and grabbed him, throwing the screaming boy over his shoulder and tossing him onto the bed like nothing.

“Dream!!”, he screeched. Dream only laughed and climbed on top of him. Swiftly, little wrists were collected up and pinned to the bed above the boy's head. “No!”, he squeaked and burst into giggles, clearly anticipating a tickle attack.

Dream smiled down at the squirming boy. He watched as the giggles slowly came to a stop.

“I have an idea.”, Dream spoke. George cleared his throat, flustered but listening. “We come up with a code word for when you want to be tickled.”. George gasped.

“No!”.

“What. Why?”.

“I never want to be tickled.”. Dream rolled his eyes.

“Georgie, come on. We are way past that. Me and Sapnap are both fully aware of how much you love being tickled. So let’s just come up with an easier way for you to ask for it”. George looked like he would combust. He was writhing slowly like he was trying to escape and his cheeks and nose were dark red.

“Shut up…”, he whimpered.

See, this is what Dream doesn’t understand. They already knew, so there is no more embarrassment. Why wouldn’t George admit it? Why wouldn’t he let Dream help him?

“You trust us right? We’ve never made fun of you. Just let me help you.”. George was flustered beyond belief. Dream’s strength dwarfed George’s so he knew he was stuck here for as long as Dream wanted.

“Lemme go!”, he whined. Dream groaned.

Dream used his free hand to trail down George’s arm and teased gently into his open underarm. George burst into giggles.

“No!! Dream stop!!”.

“Think about it! There are probably so many times where you’re sitting in here all alone wishing we were tickling you! We…whoa.”. George had let out a piercing scream at Dream’s words. “Oh you are so dramatic!”.

“Sapnap!!!”, George cried. Dream giggled.

“You can’t be serious.”.

Dream studied the squirming boy, trying to figure out the state he was in. He hadn’t safeworded and he was mostly just panicked and giggling. The cute blush was crawling down his neck. Nothing new. Flustered, he was just flustered. The distress was because he knew he would be tickled and embarrassed. He was fine, though.

He trailed fingertips across his neck and collarbone, making him tilt his head down and sputter into giggles again.

“It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. We could make it a normal phrase so it doesn’t embarrass you. Like, ‘I’m thirsty’ or something.”. George only shook his head ‘no’ through his giggling. “It will make things easier for you!”. Dream only had George’s best interests in mind here!

He loved tickling George. He didn’t understand why George was so embarrassed about also enjoying it. In his head, he had found the perfect solution. Like the opposite of a safeword. If George was comfortable having a word that secretly meant ‘stop’ then why not have one that meant ‘go’? Dream pulled his hand away and let George breathe.

“I hate being tickled.”, he mumbled and let his head drop back against the bed.

“George, no you don’t. And there’s nothing wrong with that!”. The smaller boy only whined and struggled. Dream poked around his tummy to make him start giggling again. “Imagine what things could be like if you just admit it! You could ask us to tickle you exactly how you wanted!”. George cried out at the words. “What if there was a way you wanted to be tickled and I didn’t know? That would be so sad!”. George’s eyes flashed with something before he smooshed his face against his own arm. Dream gasped and stopped his poking. “George?”.

“Shut up.”, he whined.

“No! Is there a specific way or spot you want to be tickled and you are too nervous to tell us?”. George squeezed his eyes shut. “George, please? You can tell us! You have to!”.

Dream released his wrists and sat up, watching George cover his face with both hands and start to catch his breath. He was going to need some back up here. He slipped his phone out of his back pocket and opened Sapnap’s contact.

-•We’re in George’s room, need your help as soon as you get back•-

Dream lifted George’s shirt and scribbled gently against his bare stomach, smiling at the squeaky giggles and the way he jumped and batted at the tickling hands.

“Don’t worry Georgie. Me and Sap are gonna get it out of you.”. George only whined and shoved at his hands. Dream kept his tickles light, just biding his time for Sapnap to get home.

~•~

Luckily, the afternoon looked like it was going to be rainy and Sapnap was already hopping back into his car when he got Dream’s text. Not bothering to respond, he headed home with his music turned up, smiling about the idea of tickling George to pieces.

He made his way into the kitchen and hung his keys up. Somewhere, George was giggling. It sounded squeaky.

“Georgie! Is Dream getting you?”, he sung loudly, following the noise and finding George’s room. He opened the door to find the squirming boy a blushing and giggling mess under Dream’s big hands.

“Sapnap, we have a problem!”.

“Oh no! What’s the problem!”. They were being over the top and cheesy. George groaned and shoved at Dream’s hands again as Sapnap climbed up on the bed next to them.

“No we don’t! Get away! Sapnap, he’s torturing me!!”, he said through giggles. Dream tsked.

Sapnap settled near them and grabbed George’s hand.

“George wants to be tickled in a specific way, but he’s too nervous to tell us.”, Dream frowned. Sapnap looked actually troubled, frowning down at the squirmy boy. George tugged his arms down just enough to hide his face. Dream and Sapnap exchanged a look.

See, this was troubling. Dream and Sapnap genuinely wanted to know and knew George wasn’t going to say it.

“Really?”, Sapnap asked. George whined. “Hey, actually? Why don’t you just tell us. Then we can tickle you how you want.”. George waited a beat, then started to thrash wildly.

“Hey!”, Dream yelled. They both struggled to hold down the boy as he tried to actually get free. “Calm down!!”.

“George!!”.

“Let me go!! I hate you!”.

“Tickle him!”, Sapnap yelled. George screamed as four hands descended on his tummy and sides.

“No!”, he screeched and laughed hysterically. His hands flailed against the attacking ones. “I hate you!!”.

“We have to calm you down!”, Dream laughed, still tickling him. The two exchanged an amused look at how frantic George was now. Definitely, not calm.

Eventually, they lifted their hands away and the boy was left gasping for breath on the bed underneath them.

“Are you ready to listen?”.

“Yes, fuck.”. Dream and Sapnap looked at each other and then back at him.

“How do you want us to tickle you? If you tell us then we will. Any way you want, we promise.”. George’s mouth dropped open and his cheeks flushed darker. He refused to say a word. “Do you want to like, not say it? What if you show us?”.

“I hate you. Let me go.”. They both sighed.

“You should be able to do that. You do that all the time!”, Sapnap said. George looked like he would cry he was so frustrated.

“No I don’t!!!”. Dream’s eyebrows furrowed and he pushed back George’s hair.

“Hey, it’s okay! Georgie, c’mon.”.

“I don’t like being tickled.”, he whispered. Dream looked over at Sapnap a little helplessly. Sapnap shrugged, then grinned mischievously.

“Yeah, I know. You love it!”, Sapnap laughed, quickly dissolving any tension. All three of them burst into giggles and George reached over and shoved him.

“Shut up!”. Sapnap grabbed his sides, making him squeal.

They fell easily into the usual tickle shenanigans, dropping the topic for now.

~•~

Dream and Sapnap reconvened in private to discuss.

“I don’t think he’s going to be able to tell us.”.

“Why won’t he just show us? He sends us stuff all the time!”.

“I know. It’s like, he won’t do it directly. I hope we didn’t spook him. I feel bad.”.

“I know, I don’t like thinking he wants something and we haven’t done it.”

How would they get it out of him?

~•~

Attempt number two came the next day. Sapnap was hidden behind Dream’s open bedroom door with Dream perched on the edge of his bed. He summoned George with texts. It took a bit of convincing.

George finally appeared in the doorway.

“God, what do you want?”, he asked as he walked in. Sapnap slammed the door closed and George yelped, whipping around.

“You don’t have to call me god.”, Dream said amusedly. George backed away from Sapnap, giggling already.

“What are you guys doing?.

“Some experiments.”, Sapnap said as he crowded George back against the bed. Dream grabbed his waist as he got near and dragged the screaming boy onto the bed.

“No!!!”.

Quickly, they worked together to drag him up on the bed and locked his wrist into a cuff at the top right of the bed. George froze.

“What?”, he squeaked. The two only laughed.

“Sorry Georgie. It’s just, it’s hard to experiment on a squirmy subject.”. George whined and started to blush.

“You can’t do this.”. Dream scoffed, tugging his other wrist over and quickly locking it into place. George bucked and cried out in panic.

Excitement zipped through George’s spine and made him shudder. He had never been so helpless.

“Let me go!!”. Sapnap grabbed his ankle and started tugging off his sock. “No!! Hey, no!!”, George screeched. He didn’t pull it away though, seeming to wait until the sock was removed before starting up his bucking again. Dream laughed and grabbed his other ankle. Soon, both socks were flung across the room and George had both his ankles locked down into cuffs at the bottom corners of the bed.

Dream and Sapnap sat on their knees at either side of George, admiring their work. George was practically shaking in his mix of fear and excitement. Begging and pleading seemed to go out the window for now in his flustered state. He felt naked in his basketball shorts and thin t-shirt. Stretched into an X, he was helpless.

They waited for him to drop his safeword, but he didn’t. Dream clapped his hands together.

“Alright! We are going to tickle every single spot in every single way. And hopefully, that includes the way you’ve been craving! How does that sound?”. George gasped and choked on his spit, coughing and squirming.

“Get away from me!”, he cried. “No way!!”.

“Then, do you want to tell us so that we just do it?”.

“I don’t want anything!! You are idiots!!!”. They just ignored him and settled up higher on the bed.

“Ready?”.

“No!! Don’t!!!”, he cried. His cheeks were already burning brightly.

Dream and Sapnap trailed a gentle touch lightly down both of George’s arms and the boy erupted into giggles. They pinched at the muscles and drew a few cute little squeals from him. Tnen, they leaned down and nibbled at the space right above his underarms. George cried out and bucked, falling down into frantic squeaky laughter.

“Are you going to use your mouths?”, he squeaked out. Dream sat up with a giggle.

“Of course! Why, does the thing you want involve mouth tickles?”. Sapnap sat up with a smirk. George whined and shoved his face into his arm.

“No, I don’t want anything!!! Shut up!!”. The other two only laughed and continued their experimenting. A featherlight touch fell upon George’s ears and neck. He squealed and wiggled. He shook his head uselessly and the cuffs clanged loudly as he tried to pull out. “Quit!!!”. Sapnap sat up and Dream crowded closer, blowing a raspberry into the side of his neck. George squealed, falling into frantic laughter as Dream pulled away and Sapnap dove into the other side. George laughed hysterically as they repeated it over and over like a tickly game. In no time, he was in tears. He thrashed and laughed like a maniac as raspberry after raspberry was pressed into the sensitive skin of his neck. “Please!! No more!!!”, he cried.

“Awww he’s crying!!”, Dream coo’ed as they both sat up. George closed his eyes and gasped for air through his flustered giggles. “Very tickly, but I don’t think that was it!”.

“Me either! Let’s move on.”.

“Wait…”, George whined. But, the two didn’t care.

A hand found each of George’s open underarms and spidered gently against them. Death spot. George screeched and jolted at the soft touch. The tickling picked up. The two found the sensitive muscles at the bottom of his underarms and rubbed in ticklish little circles. George screamed and thrashed in his restraints, helpless to the tickling.

“Aww tickle tickle!! You like this spot huh?”, Sapnap coo’ed. George could only shriek his protest. When they focused in like this on his worst spot he was useless. He tilted his head back against the pillow and the hysterical laughter poured out of him freely. There wasn’t really any indication that this was the spot that he had been craving, but it was so fun to see George lose control over something so small. He was screaming with laughter and the two were barely moving.

“I hate you!!!”, he managed the words. They both laughed as they came to a stop.

“This is so fun Georgie!!”.

“And if you think it is too, you can just stay quiet and we’ll keep tickling the muffin out of you! That’s what you want huh?”.

“I want you to shut up!!”. They both gasped dramatically at the words.

“What?”, Dream asked and dug into his ribs roughly with both hands. George convulsed and cackled loudly, like it was ripped from his throat before he could even process it.

“Dream!!”, he screeched. Sapnap leaned in and found a space on the ribs so he could tickle as well. George screamed and thrashed. The two didn’t let up and soon the boy was just jolting in place as screaming laughter poured out of him. “Stop!!”. George desperately jerked his body off the bed and back down. “What the fuck!!!”. The other two laughed at his ticklish anguish.

“Are you going to lose the attitude?”, Dream asked.

“Please!”, he squeaked. The two backed off and George went limp on the bed, giggling hysterically. Sapnap coo’ed at George. He gasped for his breath weakly, fighting against giggles. “You guys are going to kill me before even getting to the thing!!”, he whined. They both gasped. ‘Oops.’.

“Oh, so you admit that there is a way you want to be tickled!!!”. George’s eyes went wide and he clammed up. “George!”. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and refused to meet their gazes. Sapnap wormed one finger in between two of George’s ticklish ribs as if to encourage him. High pitched giggles spilled from his lips.

“I can’t think!! Leave me alone!!!”.

“So whiny. Why don’t you just tell us what you want?”.

“Sapnap, get out!!”. George squealed as the tickling became too maddening. How would he survive this? They started at the top! Sapnap snorted.

“I’m barely even touching you!”. George’s giggles only grew more frantic and he shook from the electricity jolting him from the inside out.

“Are you serious?”.

“Georgie if you don’t toughen up you aren’t going to survive!!”.

“You guys suck so much!!”.

Sapnap slowed his finger wiggling and the two giggled as George dramatically went limp.

“Ready?”, Sapnap asked Dream as he hovered his own hand over George’s small chest.

“No!”, he yelled, then burst out laughing as two hands grabbed his chest and tickled him. He wasn’t used to being targeted there and shrieked in protest.

“I wasn’t talking to you, silly.”, Sapnap grinned.

“This is a good spot, huh?”, Dream coo’ed as he watched George jump and laugh, trying to shake the tickly hands.

“The goobies!”, Sapnap yelled. All three of them laughed harder.

“Ticklish goobs!”.

“Shut up!!!”, George screeched.

The devious hands crawled down, lifted up his shirt, and started playing with the bones of his ticklish ribcage. George’s head dropped back into the pillow and he wailed with laughter.

“You already…stop!!!!”, George struggled through his laughter. A loud yelp sounded as the hands were suddenly replaced by teeth. His entire body lifted off the bed and squirmed wildly as Dream and Sapnap nibbled across his ribs. George screamed with laughter. “Fuck off!!!”. The two tickle monsters just nibbled away as the ticklish boy thrashed helplessly. “I’m dying!”, he cried. “Mercy!!!”.

Dream sat up and laughed, using both hands to rapidfire poke up his side and ribcage.

“You are literally fine.”. George could only shake his head, completely hysterical. With Dream’s evil fingers and Sapnap still nibbling away at his ribs, he was sure he would die.

“Please!”, he squeaked out. They both lifted up, but left their hands hovered over his squirmy body. George gasped greedily for air, but couldn’t stop giggling. It was developing a cute rasp to it. Dream and Sapnap smiled at each other over him. Still no safeword.

Sapnap dropped both of his hands down to the jumpy bare tummy beneath his fingers and tickled fast, startling George. A shriek tore from his throat and he dropped his head back, cackling loudly.

“Are we getting close Georgie?”. Dream grabbed a hold of the bucking hip and wormed his finger into the boy’s bellybutton. George hiccuped and squealed. An adorable stream of bubbly laughter escaped him as he squirmed under the tummy tickle torture.

“Such a cutie. Does that tickle cutie? Right here?”, Dream asked with a fond smile. George could only cry out in ticklish anguish. His dark red cheeks had tears smeared across them and his hair was starting to stick to his forehead with sweat.

“Are you excited for some raspberries?”, Sapnap sang. George screamed and shook his head ‘no’. They both laughed.

“He sure sounds excited!”.

Dream and Sapnap made eye contact, then swiftly pulled their hands off and ducked down together. A devastating raspberry was blown into both of George’s sides at the same time. All of George’s noises cut out. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrashed wildly. His little chest heaved with the laughter his vocal cords couldn’t keep up with. It was quite a sight. His entire body convulsed, but he couldn’t catch enough air to scream. Mercilessly, Dream and Sapnap just moved inwards and delivered another matching pair of raspberries onto George’s belly. A shaky wheeze flew out of him, but he mostly just gasped for air.

See, they had a suspicion that what the ticklish boy was craving was either nibbles or raspberries on his sensitive upper body. Mouth tickles somewhere, they were sure. Dream leaned in more and smooched loudly against George’s bellybutton, then wiggled his tongue inside. George screeched and bucked his hips, shaking his head ‘no’ as he finally released his wild laughter. Sapnap peppered ticklish little kissies up his side to his ribs. George was inconsolable with laughter. Tears ran freely down his red cheeks and he found himself unable to protest in the embarrassing torment. It was, in fact, not the specific way he craved to be tickled. But, fuck did it tickle. His entire body shook and thrashed under the affectionate tickles.

“Please…”; he managed to squeak out. The two pulled off, giggling and wiping their mouths.

“That wasn’t it?”, Sapnap asked. George hiccuped loudly through his frantic giggling. His entire body was buzzing from the strange attack.

“You’re going to fucking kill me.”, he whined. He sounded defeated.

Which is funny, considering he could end the torture by either admitting his secret or safewording. Neither left his lips. So, the torture continued.

“Is it gay now if I put my tongue in there too? It’s like, kind of a kiss since you just did it.”, Sapnap joked and he leaned teasingly closer to the quivering tummy.

“It is!! Don’t do it!!!”, George cried. “Get away!!”. He whined in fear. Now that he knew what was coming, it was terrifying. He squealed loudly as Sapnap shoved his tongue into his little bellybutton. “Noo!!”, he wailed. Suddenly, there was more nibbling against his ribs from Dream and George was cackling again. Helpless and under attack, he could only laugh and squirm. He tugged roughly at the cuffs securing him in place, but it was no use.

Sapnap lifted off with a giggle.

“George, tell me you’re ticklish.”, he prompted with a smirk.

“No!!”, the boy cried. He squealed as Dream teased his teeth against a particularly sensitive rib. Sapnap smirked and dove back in, wiggling his tongue into the ticklish bellybutton. George screeched. “Get out!! Sapnap!!!”. He quickly fell back into hysterics and uselessly squirmed his hips in Sapnap’s firm hold. “Please!! Okay!!! I’m ticklish!!!”.

“Yes you are!”, Sapnap murmured happily into the bellybutton and slurped his tongue loudly against it. George let out a tortured cry, laughing harder.

“No more!!! Fuck!!!”.

Eventually, Dream sat up and giggled, nudging Sapnap to sit up as well. They both smiled fondly as they watched George giggle himself silly.

“It tickles…”, he whined. His skin was buzzing from all the tickling.

“Ghost tickles?”; Dream asked, amused. He crawled a hand across the jumpy tummy just to make it worse.

“Did we miss anything up here Georgie?”, Sapnap asked. George just shook his head ‘no’, lost in his giggles. “Great! Let’s move on!”. He grabbed his narrow hips and drove his thumbs in fast, startling a scream from George.

“No!!!”. George bucked and collapsed back into hysterical laughter. It was breathless and frantic. “Please!! Don’t!!!”, he cried.

Dream knocked Sapnap’s hands away and replaced them with his own, roughly tickling at the squirmy hips. George screamed again, dropping his head back to let loose his desperate raspy laughter. Dream’s hands were much bigger and stronger. “I hate you!! I hate youuu!!”, he wailed. The other two laughed.

“Tickle tickle tickle!!”, Sapnap sang. George screeched in protest, lifting off the bed and thrashing when dropping back down.

“This is a great spot! Is this what you wanted? Huh, giggly gogy?”, Dream smirked as he slipped in George’s secret Twitter handle. All the boy could do was shake his head ‘no’ as his red cheeks only got more wet from his tears.

“Poor little giggly gogy four oh four. Does it tickle too much?”, Sapnap coo’ed, crawling up and wiping George’s face. “Or can you take more?”.

“I can’t!”, he squeaked out.

But, the Tickle Monsters moved on and grabbed his thighs anyway. A wheeze racked his body before he rasped out a noise of protest. The persistent grabbing and squeezing at his ticklish thighs only drove him crazier and crazier though. In no time, he was convulsing against the bed and laughing hysterically.

“Mercy!!!”, he tried again.

“Oh is it your little chicken legs? You wanted us to tickle them?”, Sapnap coo’ed.

“Shut up!!!”, George screeched. His thighs were quivering under the touch, but he was too restrained to get away. They focused on massaging roughly into the muscles above his knees. Surely, he would die. “No more!! No more!!!!”.

Holy shit, how was he going to survive this? With each passing day, the other two would show him less and less mercy as they got more comfortable with tickle torturing him. Neither of them flinched at his cries of ticklish anguish. They were starting to get terrifyingly good at picking him apart.

There was no way he was going to be able to ask for what he wanted. Could he even admit it when they actually get to it? What if they don’t actually do it…

George’s little heart stuttered at the reality of the situation. Either they would find it out or they wouldn’t. They already knew he wanted something, so why couldn’t he just spit out what it was?

A squeaky rush of giggles burst out of him as sneaky fingers teased behind his knees.

“Get out!”, he peeped at an embarrassingly high pitch. The other two giggled. “Don’t!!”. His knees flexed and spasmed uselessly as they spidered into the open pits of both. It was usually a hard spot for them to get when he was squirming wildly, but now it was wide open for the torture. It was a shocking type of tickle. Sharp jolts of ticklish energy shooting through his legs had him bucking helplessly. The crazed giggles pouring from his lips was overly cute, littered with embarrassing yips and squeaks.

George’s mind was swirling with that pleasant dizziness he craved. As horrible as the torture was, it was cleansing. His head rattled with vague thoughts of ‘tickle’ and not much else.

The fingers left his twitching skin, leaving him shaking with raspy giggles. It was kind of nice to not have to put thought into where his limbs were flailing, restrained like this. George ran into that mind block he always did. An internal discovery with nowhere to put it. Without meaning too, he huffed his frustration out into the air.

A featherlight touch teased his ankles and made him jerk against the cuffs.

“Is it something with your feet, Georgie?”Sapnap asked softly. The two had climbed off the bed and were both posted at a foot. George just whined at the words, still tittering.

“C’mon, giggle bug.”, Dream teased his fingertips up the small pale foot. George squealed and flopped against the bed.

“Don’t!”, he cried. Sapnap grabbed the foot and shoved his fingers between a few of the toes, dragging a screech from the ticklish boy.

A zing of excitement shot through his spine. They were so close. Was he really going to get what he wanted?

It had been some dumb throwaway tease Sapnap had yelled during the filming of a Minecraft video. The idea had wormed into brain and he hadn’t been able to shake it since. It’s been weeks now. They had gotten close before, but only enough to make him more curious and desperate. God…how embarrassing. But, if it didn’t happen tonight he was sure he would break down and beg them.

While he was sure he hadn’t acted any differently, he felt Dream’s sharp knowing gaze on him anyway.

“Toes?”, Dream dragged the word out carefully as he started to play and wiggle with them. Sapnap grinned wolfishly and followed suit. George’s giggles kicked up into a panicked cackle. His feet buzzed with oversensitivity and he had to close his eyes. “Ohhh it’s toes for sure huh? What do you want us to do to them?”.

“What?!”, he shrieked, snapping his eyes back open in horror.

“Cute little toesies…”, Sapnap coo’ed and leaned a little closer to the squirmy foot in his hands. George screamed loudly at the slight movement. Sapnap froze. Dream scoffed in amusement.

“Something spook you there, Georgie?”, he purred.

Suddenly, Dream jerked his body down and hovered his face teasingly close to the foot in his possession. George burst into laughter.

“No!! Please no! Fuck! Nonono!!!”. He laughed uncontrollably. But, neither boy was tickling him.

Dream chuckled darkly. Sapnap smirked wickedly. George was caught.

Both feet were trapped further in tight grips as Dream and Sapnap fell to their knees.

“No!”, George screamed. Finally…his toes were attacked with quick playful nibbles. They tensed and wiggled at the ticklish bites. A flustered cry flew from George’s lips before he fell silent, convulsing wildly. ‘Fuck, that tickles.’. Fireworks burst behind his eyes at the shocking sensation. It was cruel; the nibbles. Some voice deep inside him wondered how he could crave such a thing. The colorful sparks from the blinding light show showered down into his chest and his lungs gasped back to life. He threw his head back and desperate sounding cackles burst from him. It was a new laugh. Two sets of curious eyes watched him as they nibbled away at his ticklish toes. It was worse than he had imagined. The embarrassment was making everything feel more intense and the ticklish sensation was brutal. George squirmed helplessly against the bed and wailed with laughter, dangerously close to his limit. Tears wet his heated cheeks. A scream ripped from his throat and he tugged at his ankle cuffs roughly. His loud cackling laughter bounced up and down all the octaves as he simply lost his mind to the tickling.

As always, the two just kept at it despite the level of ticklish anguish the boy seemed in. He knew how to get them to stop. They were biting carefully against the sensitive pads and stems. Accidentally in sync, they both targeted his pinkie toes and George nearly broke the bed with how hard he thrashed.

“Skeppy!!!”, he cried.

~•~

It was his longest recovery time to date. Nearly five minutes after Dream and Sapnap had unlocked his cuffs and crushed him into a snuggle sandwich, George was still twitchy and giggly. While very cute and amusing, the other two were struggling to figure out how to calm him down.

Dream turned him into his chest and slid his big fingers through his sweaty hair, shushing him gently. Sapnap rubbed his back, but the initial touch made the boy squeak.

“Oh Georgie…did you push yourself too much?”, Sapnap asked softly.

“Did I?!”, he barked out a squeaky laugh. “You two are the ones who…did that!”. The sass earned him a quick taser to both his sides, sending him into a fit of giggles.

“You know what I mean, idiot.”, Sapnap shook his head fondly.

It wasn’t long before they figured out George wasn’t haunted with ghost tickles, but was just bubbling with giddy excitement. It was terribly endearing to see him broken down enough to lose the ability to hide his feelings.

“That tickled so bad…”, he mumbled into Dream’s chest. Dream grinned at Sapnap.

“What, your toe nibbles?”. George whined and giggled.

“Mmm your toes were quite tasty George.”, Sapnap teased. George squeaked at the words and nuzzled into Dream’s chest as if trying to burrow in.

“Yeah, I’m going to need seconds.”, Dream smirked. George cried out and smacked at his chest lightly.

“No way!!”, he spoke through a flurry of flustered giggles. “That was so bad!! It was crazy!!”.

Dream and Sapnap shared a surprised look. George usually had a really hard time actually speaking about tickling.

“Yeah?”, Dream tried carefully.

“I thought I was going to die!”, he whined.

Sapnap walked his fingers up and down the squirmy boy’s back, just keeping him giggling.

“Didn’t I threaten to eat your toes while we were playing Minecraft a few weeks ago? Like, when I was digging up to you?”, Sapnap asked slowly, realizing. George only whimpered. Dream sputtered and laughed.

“Sapnap this is your fault!!”.

“Shut up!”, George rolled on his back and slapped a hand over both of their mouths.

That only left him open for quick hands to squeeze at his sensitive sides and leave him squealing for mercy again.

#glass house #georgenotfound #dream team tickle #dnn tickle #georgenotfound tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!georgenotfound #ler!sapnap #ler!dream #I think there is one more chapter after this!!#do you guys like super-lee Gogy?

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