#but this thing will just be Fake Bean for now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

El Diablo Wears Prada

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.

Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.

A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❤️✨.

Pt. 2

From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.

Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.

People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.

Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.

You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.

A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it

was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.

And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.

Stay away.

Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.

"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."

Lies, lies and more lies.

A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.

"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mía. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."

You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.

-----

To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.

And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.

You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.

The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.

"Hey, darling!"

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.

"W-What? Where are-"

"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"

Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.

"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)

Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.

"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.

The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"

Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.

"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"

"N-No, Massi-"

He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.

"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves

"Massimo!"

"Go!"

He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.

A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.

The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.

And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.

Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.

"Shh, shhh shh"

His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.

"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)

He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles.

His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.

You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.

"Mr. Bianchi."

The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.

"S-Stop! Please!"

He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.

"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."

"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)

A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.

"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.

The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.

"We got it, Miguel."

Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.

"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."

Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.

"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"

"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.

You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.

" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."

He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.

"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."

Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.

"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrón tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)

His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval.

"Is that true?"

He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.

"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"

"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."

Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.

A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.

"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.

"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"

Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.

You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.

Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.

"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.

"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."

His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.

"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."

Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.

"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."

He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.

"Are you?"

Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.

"I'll have to make you a believer, then."

The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.

" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)

Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.

One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.

"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"

Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.

"Y-Yes!"

"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"

"Don't you dare to touch her!"

Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.

"How long has been since this man touched you?"

His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.

Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.

"M-Months"

You gulped and his touches stopped.

"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."

He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.

"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)

His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.

But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.

A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.

He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.

"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.

You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.

Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.

You groaned.

"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"

You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.

"Cara mía?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.

Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.

Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.

Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!

The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.

Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.

Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.

The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.

You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.

He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl

"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrón."

Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.

Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.

The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.

"Maldita sea preciosa, me estás matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)

His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.

Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.

A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.

"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.

It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.

Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.

His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.

You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.

He'd probably be killed either way.

"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.

Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.

"Cara mía, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.

Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.

Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.

But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.

The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.

"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.

Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.

"Like that, princesa?"

You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.

The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.

He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.

But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.

Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.

"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.

"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.

He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.

"But it feels so good!"

You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.

"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"

You shook your head and he frowned.

"No? Should I stop then?"

A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.

Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.

Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.

He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.

Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.

"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."

Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.

"Put that on. We're taking a ride."

----

His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.

The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.

"Get inside"

"N-No"

Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.

"Why wouldn't you just-"

"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)

His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.

His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.

Miles G. Morales.

The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.

After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.

As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.

The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.

Your eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clean it."

Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.

"No."

His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.

"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."

The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.

Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.

You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

The Devil seemed pleased. For now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #mafia au #t writes✨#mafia miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #Something for kinktober I guess #kinktober

4K notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 5 months

Note

Can you please, pretty pretty please do another Zendaya one??

fake social media

okay i’m kinda nervous bc this is the first time i post for someone who’s not harry so HI i do social media au blurbs and i hope you like this one i did for tom 🥲 let me know your thoughts and send in requests if you have any !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by hunterschafer, tomblyth and 5,119,083 others

yourinstagram Thank you so much @vogueitalia for having me 🤍 Interview out tomorrow

view all 36,196 comments

ynfan1 STUNNING

alexademie ❤️⭐️!!!

ynfan2 models should be glad she chose acting as a career

dualipa MOTHER 🤍

ynfan3 i wonder what kind of tea she spilled on the interview

tomblyth ❤️

↳ tomfan1 HELLO?

↳ tomfan2 ariana what are you doing here

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 302,922 others

enews We’re losing our minds over this new Hollywood romance. 🥹 Link in bio to see how YN hard launched their relationship (📸: Getty)

view all 5,027 comments

tomfan1 OMFGGGG

ynfan1 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE

tomfan2 NOOOO 💔

ynfan2 “my love life has always been private but this time just feels right to let the world know” NO I CANT MY HEART

↳ tomfan3 DYING

liked by rachelzegler, yourinstagram and 502,826 others

tomblyth Sneak peak at our inconspicuous movie about 2 totally chill birdwatchers with no emotional damage whatsoever… 😏

view all 6,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 this movie is going to be so good

hunterschafer ❤️

tomfan2 THE SLAY OF THE CENTURY

ynfan2 okay now i get yn

yourinstagram Those are my babies 🤍

↳ ynfan3 we love a supportive girlfriend

↳ tomfan3 i’m definitely not jealous

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 6,927 others

tomupdates Tom and YN in Los Angeles today !

view all 509 comments

tomfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 WELL

tomfan2 AHHHHHH

ynfan2 people who don’t support this relationship are so lame bc look at them

tomfan3 she visited him on set 👀

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 511,028 others

tomblyth Come back to the beginning of the games with us @songbirdsandsnakes

view all 6,919 comments

tomfan1 AHHH OMG

ynfan1 what a time to be alive

rachelzegler YES !!!

songbirdsandsnakes We are SO there! ❤️

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD MY LOVE 🤍🤍

↳ ynfan2 AHHHHHH

↳ tomblyth I love you ❤️

↳ tomfan2 I JUST DIED DEAD

liked by tomblyth, sza and 5,287,209 others

yourinstagram Exciting things coming

view all 37,028 comments

ynfan1 SAY SIKE

tomfan1 she’s dating my man i can’t

hunterschafer they’re not ready

↳ ynfan2 SPILL THE BEANS

ynfan3 the way this could literally be anything

tomblyth Gorgeous ❤️

↳ tomfan2 im still in the denial phase btw

FANS VIA TWITTER

liked by tomblyth, oliviarodrigo and 6,927,019 others

yourinstagram CAN’T CATCH ME NOW from @songbirdsandsnakes will be out today. The film and the rest of the soundtrack are out November 17th. Thank you to sweet angel @oliviarodrigo for writing this song and letting me sing it, this is so special to me 🤍

view all 76,207 comments

ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

mtv Our skin is clear. Our grades are all A’s. This is exactly what we needed

ynfan2 SINGER YN IS SO ALIVE

tomfan1 OHHHH LORDDDDD

hunterschafer ❤️❤️❤️😭

tomfan2 she 🥹 did this 🥹 for tom 🥹

ynfan3 the things she does for love i guess bc i thought she was allergic to studios

tomblyth So proud of you 🤍

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF CRY

↳ yourinstagram Wouldn’t have done with without your encouragement 🥺

↳ ynfan4 IM MELTING

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 639,573 others

tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍

view all 7,022 comments

tomfan1 CRYING

rachelzegler See you on the big screen 🙌🏻

ynfan1 i can’t wait to see it omg

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD ❤️ I love you !

↳ ynfan2 AHHH SO CUTE

↳ tomfan2 that should be me

tomfan3 i was here before hunger games

liked by tomblyth, alexademie and 6,926,209 others

yourinstagram TBOSBAS is on theaters now and all I can say is that I love every single human being involved in it and I’m so proud of them 🤍 Oh and thank you for all the support for Can’t Catch Me Now, you make me all mushy ��

view all 39,026 comments

ynfan1 AWEEEEEE

tomfan1 LOOK AT MY BABY

rachelzegler We love you sweet angel ! Having you on set was a blast❤

↳ ynfan2 MY BABIEEEEES

tomfan2 WE NEED MORE TOM BTS CONTENT

ynfan3 okay can we get a full album now

↳ yourinstagram I only release music for special occasions 🤍

↳ tomfan3 AHHH SHE DID IT FOR TOM

tomblyth Thank you for being my rock and bringing me bagels, I love you honey ❤

↳ tomfan1 OH TO BE CALLED HONEY BY TOM

↳ ynfan1 i'm melting

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 409,299 others

people Our favorite off-screen couple has arrived to the #BalladOfSongbirdsAndSnakes premiere ! Link in our bio for more pictures.

view all 21,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHH I CANT

ynfan1 they're matching my heart

tomfan2 THEIR RED CARPET SLASH PREMIERE DEBUT

ynfan2 yn is such a supportive girlfriend tom is so lucky

↳ tomfan3 they're so lucky to have each other 🥺

INTERVIEWS BY TOM AND THE CAST DURING THE PREMIERE

liked by tomfan1, ynfan2 and 13,038 others

tomupdates Tom and YN at the TBOSAS premiere ! 🥺

view all 822 comments

tomfan1 AHHHH

ynfan1 i can’t take their cuteness anymore

tomfan2 i’m so damn jealous ngl

ynfan2 WHIPPED

tomfan3 i’m bisexual bc of them

liked by tomblyth, dualipa and 6,028,984 others

yourinstagram Snow lands on top. The man of the hour

view all 78,019 comments

ynfan1 AHHHHH

tomfan1 SO TRUE IT BOY

hunterschafer Love you both 🤍

ynfan2 she’s down horrendousss omg

tomfan2 i get her if tom was my boyfriend i would post pics of him all the time

tomblyth I love you so much ❤️

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF I CRY

↳ ynfan3 they’re equally down bad

liked by yourinstagram, rachelzegler and 1,002,109 others

tomblyth Dream girl ❤️

view all 21,299 comments

tomfan1 NO WAY

ynfan1 IM CRYING

alexiademie 💘⭐️

ynfan2 ahhh this is what she deserves

tomfan2 tom is such a soft boyfriend i could cry

yourinstagram 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️

↳ ynfan3 they’re endgame i swear

1K notes · View notes

sebscore · 1 year

Note

i live your writing! request for your gen z driver series! reader and the other drivers react to/make fun of rumours about her dating various drivers. thank you!

RUMOUR HAS IT

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: mentions of cheating (but not actual cheating). swearing. catch the friends reference.

author's note: I immediately imagined the setting for this, it took me a while to get to it, but I hope this is how you imagined it as well! hope you enjoy it, darling!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

Some of the young drivers were chilling in their own little corner before the driver's briefing started, catching up with each other after the summer break.

The conversation was interrupted when Lando walked into the room. ''Oh, there he is! My wonderful husband. The apple of my eye. My honey pie.'' Y/N greeted him, the sarcastic tone accompanied with a fake smile.

''Honey, you're here already! Did you take the kids to school?'' Lando went along with her small skit, taking the seat next to her. ''What do you mean? I thought you were bringing them? We've abandoned our kids, Lando.'' She continued, dramatically waving her hands around.

The group watched in amusement, except George who seemed totally confused looking at the two younger drivers. ''What are you guys doing? I can't follow.''

''According to some news site, they've been secretly married for like three years and have kids.'' Alex explained to his friend. ''It's the funniest thing.''

''You have to read it, George.'' Charles chimed in.

Pierre handed his phone to the Mercedes driver. ''Here it is,'' the Frenchman grinned, ''enjoy.''

George skimmed over the words of the article, already chuckling at the first words. ''A mutual friend of both drivers spilled the beans on their impromptu Vegas wedding and the family they started afterwards.'' He read out loud, bursting out in laughter. ''Who's this friend?''

''It's obviously Mr. Gossip Girl over here.'' Y/N pointed at Pierre who jokingly dropped his jaw and placed his hand on his heart. ''How dare you?'' He gasped.

''Don't act so surprised, you're literally a bigger gossip than I am.'' She retorted, having the entire group agree with her.

The focus shifted to George as he let out a huge snort which he quickly covered with his hand. ''Oh my god…'' The Brit pointed at something on the small screen.

''What is it?'' Mick asked, trying to see what he was pointing at.

George composed himself before speaking. ''They just posted a new article claiming Charles and Y/N are dating, and live together in Monaco.'' He cited, attempting not to burst out in laughter again.

Pierre grabbed his phone from George's hands, wanting to read it himself. ''Where are they getting this from?'' He scrolled through the report, chuckling as their source was another ''a mutual friend''.

''You're cheating on me?'' Lando exclaimed, dramatically widening his eyes. ''What about the kids, Y/N? Why would you do this to them?''

''Lando, it's not what you think!'' She argued, impersonating the voice of those old movie stars in Hollywood films.

Y/N could see the McLaren driver clenching his jaw, desperately trying not to break character. ''I see how it is- I'm taking the house and the kids.'' Lando held his hand in front of her face, essentially blocking her from his view.

''And I'm taking your money, and me and Charles will be spending all of it.'' She bit back, pushing his hand away.

Lando seemed ready to give a comedic comeback, but was interrupted by a curly-haired German. ''What's all the commotion here?'' Sebastian adjusted the headband on his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

''Y/N cheated on Lando with Charles and now they're getting a divorce- Lando is taking the kids, but Y/N is taking all his money.'' Mick answered his friend, matter-of-factly.

Sebastian frowned, feeling like he missed a few chapters in the story. ''Oh, uh, good for you, Y/N.'' He walked away from the youngsters, joining Lewis and Valtteri on the other side of the room.

''Thanks, Seb!'' Y/N amusedly thanked him, ''I can never do anything wrong in his eyes.'' She told the other guys, grinning from ear to ear.

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @formulazeesworld @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123-blog @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @scuderialavender @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis

@champomiel @ooohmickiyoursofine @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads @mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #pierre gasly x reader

3K notes · View notes

bloodcasket · 5 months

Text

“ EASY, BABY ”⋆ ﾟ☾

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Pure NSFW (descriptive smut), Age gap centered!! (Death Island! Jill), Female described reader, Dom!Jill, Sub!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, reader described as more inexperienced than Jill (nothing too specified), innocence kink, fingering, finger sucking, tribbing, panty play, dirty talk, jill just loves to praise, teasing on Jill’s behalf, a lil bit of manhandling. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 7.4K+

DESCRIPTION: The whole department and crew is out for celebration at a restaurant. As Jill sits amongst the table, she spots the new girl, young and timid, giving shy glimpses from across the table.

AUTHORS NOTE: SUPERR rusty after lack of writing for a couple of months now, really hoping this satisfies because Jilly bean doesn’t get enough fics written about her. Let me know if there’s any mistakes, please and thank you! (I’m so normal for her, i promise). Took me too long to finish, and i got lazy toward the end.

The last thing you wanted was to deal with any of the men sitting around you, feeling forced to pry out fake enjoyment and formulate fraudulent smiles at any of their cheesy comments.

They were all grown and lax, after all, middle-aged and experienced, their worries about leaving bad impressions left long ago after years of regulating bioterrorism. They just simply didnt care, and tonight was meant to be jubilant, after all. It was a way to congratulate the team for arriving back home in one piece. Clank glasses of iced bourbon and smile after the weeks of prolonged misery and uncertainty.

It had only been a few minutes that you sat, waiting at this table, the celebratory event making you feel like the black sheep.

A timid, young stranger, her shoulders hunched in discontent, and her expression nonchalant as she sat alongside the chairs of older individuals, ones who laughed and cheered, shook hands and grinned with their cheeks shaded crimson, wrinkles creasing around the shape of their eyes.

It was people who worked drastically to make the trip to Alcatraz bearable, and handled more experience within this field. Something you felt you lacked. Something you saw yourself unequal to, off putting. In other words, even undeserving.

Employment under “The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance” was nearing a few months now for you, but your line of work strayed far from any defensive units, due to your familiarity with the information management department. You organized required files and handled technological tasks under supervisors order, you weren’t genuinely handling firearms and terminating undead like the others were within the BSAA. You were simple, and did your part, participation with higher-ups was foreign.

The invitation to come here was optional, of course, but your ripe desire to see a certain woman was hard to swallow. After several days of trying to deny yourself this opportunity, the denial became fruitless, and you finally succumbed; which leads you to sitting at this lengthy dining room table, shuffling in discomfort and trying best to bite back any resurfacing regret.

It’s a restaurant, aromas conjoining in the air, certain scents collecting that it perplexes you. The whisks of alcohol burn through your nostril hairs—your lip twitches in discontent, jaw soon slacking as fragrances of broth and caramelized delicacies fog around you. You scrunch your face and twist your cute nose, huffing in the perfumes of delight.

It was all so overwhelming, and yet you had barely done anything yet sit and spend a few minutes skimming the menu—fiddling with your hands on the table when you yearned for a distraction. And yet; another server hurries past your seat, wide platters in hand, a trail of aromatics left in his wake. Drool draws upon your impatient tongue, you wondered how much longer it would take.

“Jill, didn’t think you’d make it”, a male voice chimes, you're able to single it out amongst the banter of the public place, trying best to listen as other residents at the table mumble out tipsy-tainted sentences, snortling and getting themselves comfortable as they slosh down fancy cocktails.

The timid position in which you kept yourself in the moment you sat down at this table seems to have been disoriented, a stiffness residing down the arch of your neck as you lift your head and adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

Dimly lit, and silken curtains are drawn over windows for the evening, you blink a few times to observe across the table, eyes stretching past messy cutlery, and halfway bubbling glasses. You blink again, throat moving slowly as you swallow dryly.

Under tinted yellow light, she sits. She’s shaking her head, exaggerating a huff of exhaustion as she edges her seat closer to the table. Brunette hair is silken and syrupy brown, a few strands askew from where she let the hair descend down her face and tickle the middle of her neck, the vision filling you with exhilaration.

‘Jill Valentine’, you suddenly think, watching as she’s easing herself more comfortably into the seat, shaded heels of her boots sliding forward as she pushes her legs apart, elbows jutting against the hickory surface that you oh-so-admired for several minutes straight. She’s hunched over improperly, wrapped up in a gray woolen cardigan, not caring much for table manners. A heat brewed low in the pit of your stomach.

“Had to finish my report, it was a pain in the ass”, her adjacent partner seems to love this reaction—being that he chuckles shortly afterward, “would prefer if you took it off my shoulders next time”.

“Your responsibility”, he replies nonchalantly, Chris Redfield from what you remember, a known operator within the BSAA. He was respected largely by his peers, a man with his time spent sacrificing and protecting, all for the benefit of “greater good”. You couldn’t say much about him, you couldn’t say much about anyone to be quite frank, except for one person. His partner in crime.

Needless to say, you scrounged through your closet for hours one night to pull out piles of clothes in desperate search to find something presentable for this woman. Bouncing your eyes back and forth over different varieties of garments, torturing yourself over the delusional manifestation that you’ll attract Jill Valentine tonight.

Intimidating. Most would plaster that description over her if it was all for first impressions. A 41 year old military woman who can carry her guns just as wonderfully as she can carry her foul language. She’s blunt, and by no means patient due to certain circumstances, but with the small moments she’s managed to pass alongside you, the tiny things don’t go unnoticed.

Coincidentally, you bump into her in the lobby; she’d chuckle jovially, waving one hand toward you dismissively as you ramble out apologetic gibberish. Reassuringly telling you “it’s not a problem, don’t worry about it”.

You’re heading toward a file room? She’ll catch you in the halls, velvet lips upturned into a gentle grin as she greets you with your name slipping off her tongue, blue eyes narrowed down at you in an observant manner. She remembers the little details, remembers you.

To say it was innocent appreciation was incorrect. It was an attraction, and the more your female superior managed to cross paths with you, the more you felt the warmth in your stomach churn and twist. It embarrassed you, to say the least. Jill Valentine was probably an individual with her priorities straight, and here you were, grinding your thighs together as you squirm uncomfortably in your seat, front teeth gnawing on the swell flesh of your bottom lip. You looked ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Ogling an older woman as if she were some high school crush. Where were your priorities?

Heaps of chestnut hair suddenly color your vision, blocking your delicate view as a head leans forward to inch closer to the woman you admire, “Here Jill, saved your drink until you got here”, her voice is flowery and feminine, a tinge of nasal sweetness at the end of her chirping sentences. “Glad to see you”. You almost envy her in this moment.

“Thanks, Claire”, a pale palm wraps around the transparent glass, pearls of condensation glistening on Jill’s lengthy fingertips, her nails clumsily trimmed, and beaten hands calloused from her work. You feel your breath hitch at the sight, cotton mouthed as you watch.

Tonight was going to be long. Too long, if this was all you were going to think about.

Claire retreats to her original position in the chair, her conversation with the brunette ephemeral as she focuses her attention on another, leaving Jill solemn in her thoughts, curtly nodding to every general word Chris might possibly say. She’s taciturn, and trained on the voice of her adjacent companion.

Without the veil of ember strands shrouding over the woman’s face, you melted in your seat, lethargic and ditzy as you bored your beady eyes into the vision that was just blissfully her.

One sip, then another. Her lips curl around the lip of the glass, swallowing measured amounts of golden whiskey that smell like smoke and peaty.

“We should all get together and go on vacation after all this, think we deserve that much”, Chris suggests this as he wedges his fork into the collops of filet spread along his plate, in which the other hums, her eyes flickering from the pit of her glass and then forward, peering across the table.

Rings of cerulean catch your nosiness, and you feel the organ within your rib cage falter, and then within seconds accelerate, heart racing like a jack rabbit inside your chest. She caught you staring.

She keeps the contact for a few seconds; you’re the one who widens your eyes and cowers into yourself, suddenly pretending that the entree platter of pillowy bread rolls is of much more interest.

You think you’ve gone crazy, due to the slanted, open mouthed smirk she summons on her face, mumbling a few words in reply to the male beside her (which you don’t catch due to how much blood is rushing to your face, head swarmed with internal comments of how utterly humiliated you feel). Nevertheless, the intrigue she displays is clearly prevalent, more so in the way your young face ducked to hide yourself other than the subtle conversation Chris clearly tried to create.

Just as you had foreseen, the night was indeed long and mundane, and your quick glances at the nonchalant beauty sitting opposite of you was practically dangerous, due to how cautious she seemed of her surroundings and every object that crossed her. A habit she carried in her occupation, you supposed. She was by no means incognizant. (It would be a lie if you didn’t at least give one glimpse, though. Maybe two…maybe three).

You can’t recall if it had been an hour or more, but the facade of enjoyment seemed to lose its potency, and perhaps for others as well.

Little by little, the crew took their leave, furred winter coats slung over the slope of their shoulders as they waved and headed out for the night, giving you some trivial excuse to join alongside them. With the bill paid generously in reward for everyone, the crowd migrated out through the exit doors and into the parking lot, the wisps of frosty air breezing past in copious amounts.

You trembled, nails dipped into the lower fabric of your mini dress, trying best to ease it further down your thighs as you cursed yourself for wearing such attire.

‘All that work just to stare at her like a fucking idiot’, and now here you were, with gritted teeth and trembling flesh as you shuffled down the sidewalk in shame, purse hung over your shoulder whilst you made your way home. That is, until the crackling of gravel wound up behind you, tires rolling over cement and bright beams flashing over you as if you were a deer in the headlights. An unfamiliar car slowly approaches beside you, and you stumble in your heels as you halt.

“You waitin’ on someone or something?”, the subdued hum of the engine had synthesized with the husky chuckle that was rightfully Jill’s, “don’t tell me you were actually gonna walk home in that? No jacket?”

An arm is laid firm across the surface of her car door, her head peering out through the window as she leans forward, her expression is practically incredulous. As if she was disappointed in your choice-making, and your lack of self-awareness for the weather and time of night. She thrums her fingers across the door impatiently, other hand gripping her steering wheel as she expects an answer.

“I was just-“, and here’s the flaring heat of humiliation rising once more. Your lips are molded into a solemn line, her glare of ridicule made you feel guilty for not asking for her aid in the first place. “I’m not too far from here- I wouldn’t want to be a bother”. You’re lying through your teeth, and the brunette scoffs as if she already knows.

“Fucking hell, you were actually going to do it? You’re too young to be doing stuff like that”, she jests in a low manner, muttering more so to herself than to you. Her arm slithers back inside the vehicle, head motioning to the empty passenger seat with a quick nod. “Like hell I’m letting you walk home, it’s not safe. I’ll give you a ride. Get in”.

The authority of her tone makes your knees wobbly, and the way she sits back in her seat with her neck craned against the headrest commands urgency. She’s waiting. You feel a lump harden in your throat. She’s waiting for you.

You hasten your little steps, sheepishly opening the car door and sliding inside, whispering with pruned lips how thankful you are for the ride. You’re stiff in the seat next to her, hands folded in the center of your lap; they were numbed from the cold, goosebumps embroidered along your delicate flesh.

“Don’t mention it”, she brushes off the innocent gratitude with a witty shake of her head, vehicle rolling through the asphalt, leaving the parking lot with just a planate flick of the wrist, elongated fingers dipping into the rubberized padding of the steering wheel. You watch from your peripheral, nostrils flaring as you shakily inhale, splashes of soap and freshly cleaned laundry breeze over you, and you relish in it, stomach all filled with butterflies over something as simple as the older woman’s scent.

“Where to, then?”, she inquires with a throaty hum, vision focused on the road ahead of her. She sighs in frustration when you tell her, though she grins in utter amusement, laughing when you deluge her with stuttering apologies over a mere lie.

“Christ. Thought you said you were close?”. She makes a turn, dirt crackling under the wheels as she pulls onto another street.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble in shame, hands folding tighter and tighter until your knuckles jut against your skin, your face all flushed. Lower lining of the dress you wore was hiked up your thighs, you felt so exposed and scrutinized alongside her, in her car.

“It’s alright, don’t take me too seriously. New girl, right? I remember. Explains why you’re always so quiet”, Jill continues with the conversation, glimpsing over just for a second to study you before she’s focused again. “You enjoy the place? They had some nice drinks, don’t you think? It wasn’t all too bad”, you frown at her words, a heaviness nested in your chest. You hadn’t really done much tonight at the celebration. Nothing other than ogle at her, eat some bread rolls, and then ogle at her some more.

“I didn’t drink anything really, unfortunately”, admitting this was rather awkward, due to how much desire you held to impress her. Now you just felt inadequate, lackluster. “Too many people I didn’t know, if that makes any sense. I must sound boring, don’t I?”.

“Not even one drink?”, she questions, lips curved up into an open-mouthed grimace as she flutters her eyelashes in teasing surprise. “Free to get whatever you want, and you’re telling me you were too shy to even drink anything?”, and she sneers when you nod, biting down laughter in hopes she could keep you comfortable in her presence. Smile lines deepen around the shape of her mouth, silky lips blessed with a tint of coral, apples of her cheeks glowing with every beguilement grin.

“It doesn’t hurt to celebrate, you know. You work hard, I’ve noticed”, she pauses, considering her next words carefully, not wanting to tread any risky lines, “I’m not that far from my apartment anyway, want to have a drink or two? Think I’ve got some lying around, wouldn’t hurt to get em’ used up”.

Green light hanging up ahead switches rapidly from yellow to red, crimson hue painted over the dashboard and along the height of your body. You’ve sunken a little in the passenger seat, all wide-eyed and panicked when she offers. You open your mouth to answer, but she cuts you off before you could turn the opportunity down.

“Just the two of us, okay? I don’t bite, I promise”, and you swear you’re melting, too convinced. You nod in response, a simple “sure” is all you can hiccup.

‘Maybe all that time ripping apart my wardrobe was worth it?’

Maybe so, because Jill fucking Valentine is moving her lengthy index finger to the left of her steering wheel, flicking on her turn signal without a single ounce of hesitation, and then making a u-turn that can only promise one thing.

The ride to her apartment.

Agreeing was most definitely easier than doing, that was for certain. With the door opening, and her leading the way inside, not only then does it really solidify into reality. One of your leading superiors—a trained operations agent—has driven you back to her apartment to “share drinks” and “celebrate without all the other chatter”. At least that’s what she bargained for in the car.

You’ve politely found purchase on the faux leather cushion of her couch, material beige and smoothened, and you curl into it as you keenly gape around the place.

The condo is fresh, and crisp, organized and minimalistic, but still with a trace that’s so understandably miss valentine.

After hearing about rumors of Jill’s horror in raccoon city, you can almost bet she’s much more at ease now, with her new place, and her new position. Eager to distance from her solemn past.

She’s a workaholic, that’s for sure, multiple rooms in her living space and she’s dedicated one for her research; the door slightly agape, and you can’t help but satiate your curiosity as you squint your eyes and look past the doorknob.

With what little you can see through the crevice, there’s a desk inside with files strewn along the top, corkboard furnished along the wall and vital information pinned to it with colored thumbtacks. Not able to help yourself, a tender smile cracks on your lips as you notice irrelevant stickers plastered along the granulated cork, designs of cats and succulents the older woman has happily put everywhere. Your heart pangs at the innocent gesture, imagining such a stern individual indulging herself with such small and adorable items.

“Do you have a preference? Want anything in particular?”, said woman calls from the kitchen, face astern and a hand pushing the fridge door open. Hastily, you retreat your beady eyes, suddenly feeling impertinent for your sense of wonder. She lists off what she has, but it’s all foreign to you, not making much sense from your lack of alcohol expertise.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug sheepishly, a bashful grin displayed, “anything is fine, really”. ‘Anything that you pick, I’ll drink’, sounds more correct, but you digress.

She reads you like you’re an open book, your naivety and youth all too transparent and sat right on her couch, eyebrows furrowed and hands respectfully folded in your lap. A position she’s noticed you in ever since you were rigid and unsettled in her vehicle. When were you ever going to relax? It filled her with incomprehensible mirth, the way you were.

“You’re quite young, aren’t you?”, Jill teases a little, poking at the spots that make you internally weak as she flashes a knowing smirk, “don’t drink a lot I take it? That’s alright”.

She retrieves two glasses from her cupboard and fills them with her pick as you so kindly advocated, closing the fridge and then sauntering over. She takes her place beside you, the leather sinking from the weight of two, her thigh resting along the couch and the shape of her kneecap brushing against you.

“All yours. Bottoms up”, a throaty chuckle resounds in her throat as she offers the drink, ushering for you to take it into your small hands, in which you oblige with unreadable panic. “Cheers”, she clinks her glass with yours, before she’s reclining into the cushion and swallowing, throat muscles contracting up and down.

You only manage to gulp down a small portion of the beverage, soured reaction shriveling your lips. It wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it was Jill’s, and you found it as well sought after as any nobel prize. This drink, this couch, this moment. This moment with her, even if every lick of the bitter whiskey was deathly, you would still sacrifice every lumpy taste bud just for a second with the woman.

Slowly, she sets the drink down on the coffee table, and you watch her movements carefully. Those hands of hers guide the cardigan off her shoulder blades, shrugging the gray fabric down and onto an armrest with a composed exhale.

What torture it is, your foolish reverence for her. Dirty incalescence ferments between the swell of your thighs, burning and burning once you catch sight of the dip between her chest, cleavage freckled with age and brown moles dotted along her sharpened collarbone. Her tight little blue tank top hiding underneath that damned cardigan this whole time. The fabric is stressed across the seaming of her bust, creased and curled until it dips down and hugs around the frame of her waist. There’s no fucking way you’ll be able to make it through tonight without slipping up.

“You’re brave for working under the organization, no matter what you do. Reminds me of when I first started training, I was around your age too. It’s risky, but I’m sure you already know that”, she bends downward to unlace her coal-shaded boots, tugging the zipper down without an ounce of patience in her.

“You gettin’ along with everybody? How is everything, with the new position and all? I mean, the way you were acting earlier, it makes me worried. If anyone’s screwing with you-”.

“No no no, it’s not like that, I promise”, you cut her off, shaking your head quickly in hopes you could help her understand your viewpoint, in which she glances at you and sits upright. She got you to talk, and if she wasn’t absolutely smug about it.

“Everything is fine, and the department is kind to me. You’ve been very generous too, and I’m thankful. I’m just…still trying to get used to everything”, she bobs her head with acumen, digesting every syllable and stumble of your words, listening maturely. She finds flattery in your compliment toward her, doing best not to grin.

“How is it with, um…you and Chris?”, you ask, and the moment the question slips past your lips, you’re filled with utter regret. What kind of question was that? Valentine raises her eyebrow in bewilderment, shocked by the sudden change in subject. She draws her arm along the head of the couch, manspreading whilst she sits as she pleases, eyes still narrowed with pique and pointed in your general direction.

“Me and Chris?”, the laughter she bellows out is vocal, giggling deeply without much restraint, “we’re partners, is all. We’ve been in this field for a while now.”

The way she carries herself around you is as if she’s known you for years, like this is just some humorous conversation that fills her with interest. She wasn’t this excited to speak at the restaurant, you’ve noted, and it’s heartwarming. You, of all people, have made her soft.

Despite all the liquor she’s consumed tonight, she is still impressively sober, quick to catch on to all your soft spoken words, and averting eyes. Although, her high tolerance, of all things, is not a particular trait of hers that surprises you. It only aids the turmoil that rumbles in your chest; it makes you feel weighed down and heavy, the scent of luxurious usquebaugh lingering on her tongue after every breath she releases.

“I see”, you mumble, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jill rolls her blue eyes, “you’re always apologizing, you have nothing to be sorry about”, the room falls silent, clock that’s hung on her wall ticking as seconds prolong into minutes. That is, until she speaks again.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend? Lay it on me”, and the room feels like it’s suddenly enclosing, the words strangely suffocating, and you refuse to admit your sheer infatuation you bore for her. You shake your head with silence, finding that your speechlessness was a better reply rather than your jumbled words of anxious gibberish. One slip up, and you knew it would be over.

Your fingers tease the constricting dress again, eyes exerting to the way your thighs expand and lay flat on her sofa. The way the material fits you like a glove was sweltering, especially with her obsidian pupils beating down on you, drinking up your every tentative counter.

“So that’s a no”, she snorts at your lack of volume, feeling filled with confidence. “You stare a lot, you know that? I noticed you looking at me all night. I don’t scare you, do I?.”

You shoot your attention toward her now, irises apprehensively rounded and wide, and you feel the world absolutely crumble as you're struck with distress over her admittance. She did notice, after all. How pathetic you must have looked the whole time, peering from the fucking entree platter to her every couple of minutes, so visibly envious whenever anyone uttered a single word to her.

“No, I”-

Your pale lips tremble as they open, an absinthal taste wrought over your tongue and depleting any moisture from your mouth. You try to answer, meek and destroyed from your own clumsy dilemma. How different this could have been, if only you weren’t so gullible when it came to your yearning, now leading yourself into chagrin as you couldn’t keep your eyes away earlier.

“I’m sorry”, you pipe out, “I didn’t mean to”-, and she’s engulfing you, brain all smothered into mush and your body liquidizing to putty under the embrace she ensnares you in. Countless nights you’ve spent imagining how every curve of her lips feels pressed along yours, how they move, how they taste, but absolutely nothing can put into words how beautiful they feel as they swallow up your squeaks of dismay.

She’s crawling forward until she’s got you all laid out underneath her, squirming in your position as you submit to the palm she lays on your chest, a firm push she gives until you’ve gone flat amongst the leather cushion. With her legs now entangled with yours, she’s content, humming into the kiss she’s so rightfully initiated, sharp nose dipping into the velvet skin of your face, and skimming along your cheek with every tilt of her head.

Challenged by inexperience, you try best to keep up with the opening and closing of her mouth she’s laying upon you, her eyes sealed as her lips seemingly can’t control themselves, a hunger you’ve never expected from Jill. Flavors of malt she's got melting from her tongue, intoxicated saliva that’s mixed with yours and creating a slippery concoction between your lips with every thirsting lick she provokes.

“Need some attention? Am I right?”, the brunette separates from the bliss she had solicited, lips detaching with a wet smack so she can inhale sharply. “I’m much older than you, much”-, she huffs, airily snickering at the sight behold just right beneath her, “much fucking older.” She drags the wriggling muscle out from between her teeth and over her lips, collecting the moisture and spit you had so generously lathered over her. To die like this, it would be divine.

You lay dormant and vulnerable to her control, but she had warned you. Her words were not to be taken lightly, but rather, considered. To give up your innocence for such a filthy, wretched moment like this, Jill knew better. But those eyes of yours had begged, pleaded, were filled with desperation. Whatever she had done, or would do, you wouldn’t lament over it—but rather—savor it.

“I know”, you speak up, balancing the shakiness that wracks you. You’ve wanted a moment like this with her, and you refused to let it slip away from the cracks of your fingers when she was so, so close to granting you everything you’ve wished. “I know you are.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Explains all the staring, that goddamn dress during winter for Christ’s sake, all on purpose, I take it, tryna get my attention”, the silver pendant of her necklace dangles above you, circling as if it’s meant to entrance you. “The hell am I going to do with you?.”

The authority that oozes off her foul tongue is like morphine, an opiate you’ve swallowed, it’s addictive and ruins your common sense completely. Innocent eyes flicker back and forth, your jaw now slack as you can’t focus between the heat swirling in her pupils, or the way her lips taunt you for another taste.

The delicate curve of her nose, like a deity the way she so naturally is, sculpted from the stars as you examine the dorsal bump that sits near the bridge between her eyes, and then arches down to her cupid's bow. You want to pepper kisses all over her, take a risk into her world, trace the fine lines that are embedded into her pale complexion. God, you wanted it, no matter how foolish you would become.

Not able to withstand another teasing comment, you bring your lips to hers with vehemence, your shaky hands drawn over the stretch of her back, nails bundling up fistfuls of blue cotton fervently and with lack of restraint.

“Easy, baby”, the older woman rasps out a discordant laugh as she eases apart from you, “I got it, sweetheart. Let’s take our time, no need to rush anything.”

But the way your fingers are threading up her spine, carding through the syrupy strands of her hair and burying the pads of your fingers into her darkened roots tell her everything. “Please”, you whisper, a whine of desire prolonging from your throat, “take me to bed.”

And who is she to deny such a request? Fallen at your feet from square one.

With groping hands and ragged breaths, Jill has led you to her room and shoved her calloused hands onto the square of your chest, watching you stumble your way backward until your knees wobble, feet losing balance and you surrender your footing. Now draped along her mattress, you’re sprawled amidst her disheveled sheets, unintentionally alluring at the edge of her bed. A present that needed to be unwrapped and reveled in. Undressed and ravaged.

Undoubtedly, the attraction was mutual. Too reticent to meet her eye, fledgling and modest you were, a stark contrast to the indecent and repugnant men that stuck around and partnered alongside Jill in multiple missions. She was abnormally engrossed in you, freshly employed, seeing a sliver of compassion in every beam you presented, how much you were blossoming compared to the others who groaned and wailed.

Of course, your age had been worrisome, and Jill felt guilt course within her at such salacious contemplations. But to have you laid out in this moment, so youthful, so precious, she knew it was alright. She was going to take such good care of you, that was certain, cherish you like no other. And from the way you propped your weight up onto your elbows to wait for her, in her bed—she knew you had waited a while for this too. The glimmering twinkle in your glossy eyes, an unspoken plea from the depths of your soul.

Jill pried your heels off your feet and threw the irrelevant shoes to the floor, long fingertips prodding along the protruding talus bone and further down to the curve of your calf, pulling your leg upward so she could chastely peck along the skin. Give you softness before she fucked you clueless, solicited vulnerable cries from that sweet mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect, sweet thing. Need you to be good and spread your legs for me”, she mumbles amongst unarticulated nibbles to your calf, two strong hands guiding your limbs apart with your permission. You comply, breath hitched in your throat, craning your neck back once she lowers a palm between your two thighs, index and middle finger circling into your sticky panties, meddling with the sodden gusset.

She grunts, your wet cunt fueling her ego. She knew it was worth examining how ruined you already were, but this quick? How precious.

“Fucking hell, you’re needy”, you flush viciously at her jesting observation, squirming so sensitively at the swirls and caresses of sensual friction, every plunge of her trimmed nails into the flimsy fabric were torturous. Panties are humid and tainted from your own very need, and you feel your body is just an ocean of desire, body overflowing with lecherous want.

You wantonly gripe and huff, dress now creased and hiked up to your navel as Jill holds you still and anchored, one hand clamped around your knee securely as the other is buried between your thighs, toying with you. Coaxing those gentle gasps out of you that make her heart swell, fill her with greedy pride.

“Just a couple of kisses, and your panties are already ruined”, she curls a finger into the band and drags the elastic up, the soiled undergarment loose and freed from your glistening labia, before Jill releases, the material slapping back down within mere seconds. Jolting and whimpering, you’re appalled from the igniting slap amongst your sensitive warmth, hips jittering and Jill flashes you a playful smile.

“Half my goddamn age and gettin’ all wet”, she tugs the panties up now, watching the cotton sink into the slick of your pussy, lips curled around the laced seam and cutely puffed out, glistening with your own pronounced arousal. “Pretty girl”, she muses, dark eyebrows creased and wrinkles of concentration forming along her forehead as she gawks at you coming apart, beseeching for mercy with little squeaks and airy sighs. She wonders when you’ll demand pleasure, but such a sweetheart you are, letting Jill have her way with you.

She’s too impatient for this little game, having enough of prolonging your reward of indescribable pleasure and ecstasy. She pushes the damp gusset to the side, a bridge of transparent slick breaking apart from the undergarment once she bares your cunt to her hungry eyes, lengthy fingers spreading your velvety lips apart, her mouth formulating into an impressed “o” at the vision.

“Jill”-, you pipe up with uncertainty, but she hushes you, another kiss she smothers to your calf. “I know”, she hums, “I know”. You feel all warm inside, sickened with endearment by the way she looks at you, clenching around thin air as you imagine how well she’ll fill you. You’re all hers tonight, she knows this.

A veil of brown tresses conceal half her face as she lowers her head to a calculated angle, sharp collarbone and shoulder blades pronounced once she bends closer to your clit. She collects tepid drool off the tip of her pink tongue, and hurls it down onto your turgescent pearl, watching her bubbling saliva sully your pretty little pussy and drip down to your pulsating hole, entrance begging to be split open as you clench once…then twice, and a third time. You shiver at the contrast of temperature, cool slick now warmed by the draw of her thermal spittle, and you attempt to keep your head up to watch with half-lidded eyes, desperate to see the woman you loved.

Despite her foul-mouthed tendency, and inclination for dirty talk, she was slow, and tender. Her hands were rough, marred from training and littered with blemishes and scarring. Though, she was so considerate the way she plopped her thumb along the swell of your clit, textured fingertips rubbing upward against the flesh, flicking the small, and hardened bud with precision that had you moaning brokenly into her pillows. Your nostrils flare, inhaling her musk that’s adorned the sheets, the scent enveloping you, in which you only moan louder.

“Yeah, feeling good, aren’t you. Like my fingers?”

“Mhm!”, you had no words to speak, clasping onto the bedding as she steadily draws circles of pleasure over your enlarging bud. She tests the waters, pointer finger nudging at your dripping entrance, and when you make no sound of denial, she buries herself inside, curling one finger into your cunt. She laughs flippantly as your body instinctively swallows her in, fleshy walls tightening and frenzied, clenching sporadically around her, and she adds another finger slowly, trying best to be careful with you; her precious girl.

“Jill- oh my god”, the sudden stretch of her fingers is surreal, sticky taint gushing from your weeping hole and defiling the pale, boney fingers that split you apart so remarkably, obscene sonorities that climb up the walls and ring into your ears. You were already soaked earlier after the push of her tongue along your teeth, a saturated flower between your shaking legs, luminous and gleaming after a rainfall of dominance the older woman harbored.

But the way she bullies her knuckles inside you, her spit sloven hands smearing her slobber all over your vulva—you've been undeniably ruined, sopping mess that’s smeared to the flesh of your inner thighs and down to the shape of your rear, and you sob.

“Can’t- can’t do it”, your body says otherwise, pleading for more, blood rich and adrenaline coursing through bluish veins like wildfire. Thrust after thrust, and push after push; transforming your mortal chassis into molten nothingness. You’ve surrendered willingly, fallen victim to a certain euphoria that wounds around you, ensnares you into a blanket of submission.

“You can”, Valentine coaxes, more of a demand than suggestion, inspecting you past her webbed eyelashes, “and you will.” Her two fingers are tight against one another, pummeling toward the spongy muscle inside you with a pump of her wrist, arm flexing as she opens you wide to her advantage, folds spread apart to her liking, flapping limply atop the tarnished knuckles that gets forced into your noisy pussy. You’re writhing desperately, an arm flailing down the arch of your stomach to catch her, and you’re teary eyed; two crystals gleaming and threatening fat tears.

You’ve begun to blubber riddles of nonsense, incoherent gasps that can only direct Jill toward one conclusion, and once your hips grind upward to meet the dry surface of her palm, she’s sucking her teeth. You’re close, she smirks in understanding.

“Hm!”, you shake your head, and what else can you say? Disheveled and torn away, once innocent and pure, now fragmented into a vision of a filth from the way you moan symphonies. Dress slithered up just below the cave of your ribs, and a trembling hand clamping down on the wrist that’s trapped between your lifted thighs, you’re the image of a prostitute.

Nonchalant from your intrusive hand desperate to stop her, Jill swats you away and flashes you an expression that reads ‘don’t do that again’, before she’s plunging once more, and your stomach lurches, hitched breath trapped within your esophagus.

“Listen to yourself”, she tantalizes, sultry remarks hissing from the gaps of her pearly whites, and you whimper delicately as you begin to lose yourself in the bliss. It’s only in that moment of fragility that you recognize what she finds so amusing, the squelching of your cunt, juices lewd and sloppy as they flow, and you’re clenching around the older woman’s joints within. Further and further, until the rope breaks, and you’re crumbling into oblivion, battered fingers ushering you into an orgasm of pristine heaven.

Her thumb lulls you from your sequencing spasms, rubbing your used little clit in tender circles as she marvels over such magnificence with blown pupils, still standing at the edge of the bed whilst she listens to the howls of elation that tumble from your cute lips. She’s got to stop herself from hounding you right now, control the erotic sparks that are boiling underneath the constriction of her pants. She did this, and if she didn’t feel so full of herself because of it. Thoroughly smitten with you.

“There you go”, she hushes you with rasping care, observing with worry as your soft hips remain twitching, “you okay?.”

She abandons the mess she made the moment she joins alongside you, crawling to fill the cold space amongst the bed, suckling marks of woo under the slant of your jaw once she’s beside you. Slender, protective arms are snared around your heaving figure, and you’re humming to reassure her, reaching to grasp onto the meat of her biceps for a sense of imploring comfort.

“You did good”, a husky murmur that rumbles from her, reverberates through you as she douses nurturing pecks along the crown of your swarming head, your brain filled with static and fuzz from such an experience. She thinks you’re finished for the night, wasted and frayed—the humble woman she was—figuring she’ll get you cleaned up and call it a night.

The conclusion is omitted, fortunately, from the moment your mouth falls agape, needy muscle thrashing inside and your libido pulsates. You lever her hand that was once caressing your waist, and bring it upon the seat of your bottom lip, peering past your nose at the wrinkled fingertips; pruned and soiled from the liquid you've drenched them in. Your release, glued and preserved amidst the pores of the brunette's skin.

A low sigh of approval erupts from Jill’s chest as you clean the cracks and crevices you’ve dirtied, your beady eyes now sealed tightly as you slurp on the digits hungrily.

“Can’t baby”, she drawls, cunt throbbing and irritated as it stays purchased amongst the seaming of her ripped jeans. “Might be too much for tonight.”

As if you’re adamant on her docility and compliance, you swirl your tongue over her nail beds, the addictive brewery of your cum, globs of spit, and her flesh had all become dewy and sloshed down the walls of your throat. You moan, bobbing your head until you sputter around her, and the two digits sit upon their tongue-like throne beside the swell of your tonsils, leaving you gagging stupidly by the sensations.

Fucks sake, she wants to pummel that honeyed mound into the sheets until you’re ripping her off, tear streaks racing down your cheekbones. You fucking asked for it? You’re gonna get it.

“Want you to feel good”, you gargle, batting your eyelashes, “please?”

Denial dawns heavily upon her for the second time tonight, the fear of mauling your body—her temple of worship—weighing heavy on her racing heart. But the stench of sex disarms her restraint, the prodding canines and writhing tongue deepthroating her fingers merely convincing her. “Wanna feel you”, you whimper, “wanna”- and there’s no more words that need to be said.

Constricting fabric and other layers of clothes are shredded apart within a matter of seconds, now askew and in disorganized piles amongst the older woman’s bedroom floor. She couldn’t care less, peeling off everything she, or you possibly owned, a chest of ample breasts swinging and soft, chocolate moles dotted from her collarbone to the curve of her rising tits. You feel them perk against your own, nipples coupled and stimulating one another. Her robust figure straddles your hips, strengthened thighs not allowing an escape as she wrestles her lips against yours, groaning in low carnality.

The night is crude, bawdy, and daring. Jill Valentine’s apartment molding into a pornographic masterpiece, with licentious kisses exchanged with swollen lips, and entwined legs that brush against one another. She’s slotted herself so perfectly against your cunt, raising her hips so she can grind her clit against yours, and it’s everything she’s wanted. Everything you've wanted. Hymns of pleasure conjoin, and she’s clamping your thighs as she meets you in the center, a sultry look through her hooded eyes. With nails digging crescents into your skin, she huffs out a hissing moan, string of curse words descending before she can communicate properly.

“So close babe, so fucking close”, Jill’s pelvis pushes upward, folds kissing one another and she connects with you like you’re both two puzzle pieces meant for one another. “Gotta wait for me baby, wait for me, okay?”. She’s already said that many times tonight, stilling her scissoring once she spots even a measly scrunch of enjoyment building up on your youthful features. Egging you on just to shatter any shroud of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck this sweet pussy all night”, she grunts, chuckling in mirth at your whines for release, beads of sweat drawn over her temples. “Be patient with me baby, be patient”. And she’s tugging the ropes again, leg drawn over yours as she rubs against you, over and fucking over again, until you’re a ruptured woman, humbled from your own begging.

#bloodcasket #resident evil smut #jill valentine smut #resident evil x reader #jill valentine x you #jill x reader #jill valentine fanfiction #jill valentine x reader #jill fanfic #lesbian

750 notes · View notes

daddy-dotcom · 8 months

Text

Scents and Sensibility

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: You see an ad for those “pheromone perfumes” and decide to test its effect on your boyfriend at work. Requested by the lovely @swaggysagiewagie

Words: 1,164

Warnings: Implied smut and maybe like 1 swear word

——————————————————

I'm normally not one to make impulse purchases, but I just couldn't resist. I always thought those pheromone perfumes were a gimmick, but as a woman of science, I decided to test one and see if it actually worked. More specifically, I wanted to see if it worked on Spencer. Normally, we keep things very tame while we're on the clock. The team knows we're a couple, but we make sure to keep the PDA to a minimum. I don't mind his lack of affection at work, especially given the fact that he's not very expressive in public either, but it wouldn't hurt to get more than a peck on the cheek every now and then while were on the job. To test the effects of my newest purchase, I applied just a bit of the perfume before walking out the door to work.

Immediately as I walked through the lobby, I began turning heads. I typically went unnoticed when I entered the lobby, but the security guards said hello to me this morning as did the men in the elevator. I made my way up to our unit and I made my way to my desk, as usual. As I passed Morgan's desk, I could instantly tell that something was out of the ordinary.

"Good morning, babygirl," he said, eyeing me up and down more than usual. He's called me beautiful, gorgeous, or even pretty several times, but babygirl was exclusively reserved for Garcia.

"....good morning?" I replied, somewhat confused, but mostly smug because I had a feeling that my new perfume was working.

JJ Prentiss were talking amongst themselves when I came over to greet them. We exchanged our typical weekend updates before Emily asked me if I was wearing a new perfume.

"It smells amazing. Is it vanilla?" JJ asked.

"I think so? To tell you the truth, I'm not actually sure. I actually bought it on a whim because it's a pheromone perfume."

"Oh come on, (Y/N), you know those are all fake right" said Emily.

"You wanted to see if it worked on Spence didn't you?" JJ asked with a grin creeping up on her face.

Just then, an angry Garcia walked up to us demanding to know why Morgan had started referring to me as "babygirl."

I proceeded to spill the beans about how I wanted to mess with Spencer and see if he would be able to keep his hands off me at work now that I've used the perfume. They agreed not to reveal my secret weapon to Spencer, but we also wanted to see if it had an effect on any of our other team members.

Almost on cue, Spencer made his way over to greet us.

"Morning everyone!" he said in his usual upbeat tone. I saw him pause for a moment when he got close to me and I could practically see his brain short-circuiting. Then, in a much softer tone with his voice dropped a few octaves, he turned to me and said "good morning my love." He leaned in to give what I assumed would be our usual daily quick peck on the lips, but he gently placed one hand on my hip and let his lips linger much longer than usual. I pulled away after a few seconds, my face beet red from the realization that Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ were still watching us.

"I'll see you in the meeting," he said, walking away with a smirk.

I could feel the other agents' eyes on me as I stood there like a lovesick teenage girl.

"Well I would say that definitely worked on him" JJ said.

"You're making it way too easy for him, (Y/N)," Prentiss added.

And she was right. I was giving in to Spencer's advances way too easily. If I wanted the full effect of the perfume, I was going to have to make him beg for it. We dispersed and made our way to the meeting room to be briefed on our case. On our way in, I brushed past Rossi, who also seemed to take notice of my new scent.

"You're looking nice today, (Y/N), got a hot date?" he joked, glancing over at Spencer. I let out a laugh before replying, "I hope so."

I took the spot between Hotch and Spencer, acting somewhat indifferent to my boyfriend’s presence to see if he would notice. As I settled into my seat, I saw Hotch do a double take out of the corner of my eye. He may not have said anything, but I could tell he wasn’t immune to the effects of my new perfume either. Garcia began her usual presentation about our new case, but I could hardly focus on anything she was saying because I could feel a hand slowly creeping up my thigh, and it definitely wasn’t Hotch’s. Still, I pretended not to notice his slender fingers toying with the hem of my skirt, even though I was consumed with thoughts of where I'd rather have them.

After what seemed like ages, Hotch finally dismissed us to prepare to board the jet. Since I was pretty much always prepared, I was the first one to board, and I noticed Spencer followed me shortly after, looking like a lost puppy dog. I was reaching up high to put my luggage up in the overhead bin, which was a task I usually asked Spencer to do for me. However, Spencer would be boarding the jet any moment now, so I decided to do it myself, an action which not-so-accidentally caused my skirt to ride up in the back. I heard familiar, converse-wearing footsteps behind me, but once again I pretended not to notice.

"(Y/N) you know you can't reach up there yourself, let me help," he said, firmly pressing his body against my backside as he stretched his arms up to assist me. I felt his hips flush against my ass and his arms moved to firmly plant themselves at my waist.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch me, Spence," I said, not bothering to hide the grin on my face due to our position.

"Please, love, I can't help it. You smell so delicious today I don't know what's gotten into me."

He began leaving a trail of kisses from my lips down to my neck and I couldn’t help but finally give in to his requests.

“You better make it quick before the others board the jet,” I said, trying to stifle a moan.

“All I need is 5 minutes. Two if you keep those heels on.”

“Deal. But you’re not coming until I say so.”

“Anything you want, love. I just need you.”

I quickly pulled him into the bathroom of the jet, where he definitely proved that he really did need only two minutes.

“By the way, are we part of the mile high club if the plane didn’t technically leave the ground?”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

ebsmind · 4 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 ❀ tom blyth x fem!singer reader

summary : readers reputation isn’t all that good but who cares since she’s met the love of her life

warning(s) : reader gets slut shamed :( but that’s it

a/n : i’m going to be real honest i wanted to use hailee steinfeld as the fc BUT i just had to do olivia bc she’s so me and i listened to delicate by taylor swift about 10 times while i made this 🙃

i also had a really hard time coming up with why the readers reputation is 👎🏼 so i kinda just went with the whole olivia and sabrina thing but it’s reversed!! 😼 (so instead of olivia getting broken up with it’s sabrina who got broken up with)

ynuser happiness 🙃

view all comments

user1 oh so ur happy bc ur a home wrecker?

user2 yikes…

user3 Y/N PLS I CANNOT KEEP DEFENDING YOU GIRL

user4 y’all don’t even know the full story pls

user5 she’s such a slut

*comments have been disabled

ynuserupdates the tea is popping hot between these three! y/n rodrigo has now claimed that she has never had any romantic relationship with joshua basset…will sabrina carpenter clear the air between the situation??

view all comments

user1 she SPOKE on the situation??

↳ user2 yeah she went on a podcast

user3 oh shit

user4 this is why yall shouldn’t believe everything on the internet 😭

user5 poor y/n and sabrina :(

↳ user6 all over a guy too :(

user7 guys will always be the problem

ynuser i’m soooo excited to announce that i wrote a song called Can’t Catch Me Now for the new Hunger Games : The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie!!! 🕊️🐍🧡

view all comments

rachelzegler THATS MY GIRL!!!

user1 sis really said lemme just make the greatest comeback of all time

user2 oh she’s slaying ur honor

hunterschafer the best person who could’ve written a song for this movie

tomblyth so proud of you

user3 TOMS COMMENT OMG???

user4 i just KNOW this song is gonna be so good

user5 girl was probably finishing up writing this song when the whole sabrina and josh thing was going on 😭😭

thehungergames 🧡🧡🧡

ynuser life recently 🖤

view all comments

user1 Y/N WHOS THE BOY

rachelzegler SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH

tomblyth cutie

❤️ by creator

↳ user2 SHUT UP OMG

user3 TOM AND Y/N????

user4 SOFT LAUNCH MY ASSSSS RACHEL

user5 pls wasn’t she just with that josh guy?

↳ user6 girl she went on a podcast and said it was a fake rumor

user7 oh this next album is gonna HIT

❤️ by creator

tomblyth premier day

tagged : @/ynuser , @/rachelzegler , @/hunterschafer , @/thehungergames

view all comments

ynuser hey that’s me!!!

ynuser took the last pic on tom’s phone

❤️ by creator

rachelzegler oh we ate that

user1 y’all SLAYEDDDD

user2 stream can’t catch me now yall ✌️

❤️ by creator

user3 y/n taking a .5 on tom’s phone is so cute

↳ user4 no literally they are my PARENTSSSS

user5 the girls are slaying ur honor

hunterschafer love you!!

tomblyth added to their story!

ynuser delicate mv out now!!

tagged : @/tomblyth

tomblyth i’m in love with you

↳ ynuser i love you more

user1 OH MY GODODJNSND

user2 AN ALBUM IS COMING

user3 BRO TOM BEING IN THE MUSIC VIDEO I CANT???

user4 NOW THIS WAS A HARD LAUNCH

rachelzegler omg the cats finally out of the bag I CAN TALK ABOUT THEM NOW

↳ ynuser PLSSSS sis was eager and almost spilled the beans like a week ago 😭

↳ rachelzegler i just LOVE YALL SO MUCH

hunterschafer such a perfect song for a perfect couple 🖤

user5 i cannot do this today

user6 joshua basset is def crying in the corner

↳ user7 NAH FR HE FUMBLED HER AND SABRINA

conangray ate

user8 y/n be so fr we been knew since the announcement of can’t catch me now

❤️ by creator

#tom blyth #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow imagine #social media #social media au #ebs writes things!#userebs

478 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 5 months

Text

Taking you as their fake date to an event

[Fluff, suggustive, romance, humour, fake dating, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, Rolan]

Wyll

In the aftermath of clearing the misunderstanding with his father, Wyll found himself back at the centre of attention in Baldur's Gate's circle of nobles. Everyone wanted to meet the famed blade of frontiers, for the last time they saw him was years ago before he fully matured into the man he is today.

Letter after letter were delivered to your camp. Carrier pigeons barely escaped Tara's claws as they dropped the mail on Wyll's tent and left with most of their feathers intact.

Being the son of the grand duke of Baldur's Gate turned all the heads of any sane noble with a marriage allegeable offspring. Invitation for tea parties, hunting competitions, and even balls for the sole purpose of meeting other people. Wyll's hand was slowly going numb from having to write back formal polite declining letters.

If only there was a way to stop them from the source. He'd sigh and vent to his closest of companions. But Karlach wasn't available at the moment, so he had to make do with the vampire.

"Why not just tell them you've already tied the knot with someone or whatever you humans call it?"

For once, Wyll actually considered listening to the fanged devil on his shoulder.

He approached that topic as delicately as he could when it came to convincing you, inviting you to dinner at a restaurant, waiting until after you're both filled and the lighthearted conversation slowed to bring it up.

"My friend, if I may, there is something I could use a helping hand with."

To his relief, you don't seem uncomfortable to his proposal. If anything, you nonchalantly agreed to be his fake date to the upcoming celebration.

He thanks you with a polite smile, yet for some, his heart beat faster when he pictures you holding onto his arm amongst the crowd. Your formal attire matching his suit. The fact he'd get to call you his fiancé for an evening sends an unexpected heat up to his face.

Gale

Tara wakes him up with delight in her eyes one morning, her sing song tone of his last name is more chipper than usual.

"Mr.Dekarios, yoohoo~" she licks his face to get his sleepy eyes to focus on her, "Ms.Dekarios sends her regards, along with a mandatory summon invitation for you this weekend." Tara brings her paw up to her face, cleaning the fur and making herself even more presentable.

Before Gale gets a word in, he is interrupted by a paw smacking against his lips.

"Now now, you wouldn't break the heart of your poor old mother by rejecting her invitation when you haven't seen her in years, would you?" The soft beans against Gale's mouth hold the threat of sharp claws underneath.

Defeated and outsmarted first thing in the morning, the wizard reluctantly nods with a sight.

Deep down, he know this day would eventually come. He couldn't hide the orb and the looming threat over his life from his own mother forever, no matter how he naively hoped to find a cure before having to face her. Coming back to announce you've foolishly consumed untamed magic of chaos isn't the most popular mother's day gift.

But maybe, just maybe he doesn't have to let her know yet. If he could find a distraction.

And lucky for him, the perfect distraction was currently standing outside his open tent, rubbing Tara's belly as she purrs and leans into their arms more.

He devised a plan, a great list of excuses and reasons to sell you the idea of why you should go along with his plan of deception, even prepared a bribe if push came to shove.

Well, two bribes, actually. The first one was the massive breakfast prepared and catered specifically for your taste.

Scurrying to sit in the chair next to you before Halsin could, Gale ignored the cofused look the druid gave him before sitting down at another chair.

Either he was too easy to read, or you've picked up on his pattern of gifts and act of service whenever he has a request. Because he only had to hint at the upcoming home visit before you Blatantly stated that you're willing to go as his date.

"Well...this was certainly much easier than I expected. In fact I've deviced a much more elaborate argument and explanation for when you'd initially refuse."

"Why would I ever refuse Gale?"

You gently caressed the side of his face, wiping a small crumb of bread away from his lips before taking your hand back.

"I...well, uhm. You." With a flustered look, Gale wasn't sure how to respond. Did he remember to comb his morning hair? Oh god, wait, is he still in his pyjamas? Does he even look half presentable right now?

Shadowheart

A Selunite introduction party, as her parents explained. She never had the afterparty of her ceremony after the woods passage trial, and her mother really wanted her to see her adorned in the moon maiden silvery dress and white flowers.

How could she say no? Shadowheart only wished for both of their happiness, to make up for lost time as much as she could.

While her father never pressured her, knowing he still has plenty of time with her, her mother wasn't offered the same courtsy by life. So he encouraged Shadowheart to bring someone dear to her maybe, just to reassure her mother that she has a loved one, you know how humans tend to get about finding your soulmate and all of that.

But she felt lost. Was there really someone she could call a soulmate?

Your words echo in her mind, how you gently persuaded her into lowering her weapon. The night orchid you've given her is still kept safely in her journal, tucked away between the soft pages to preserve the petals forever.

What if you don't share her feelings? What if she is just another lost soul that has grown attached to you after you saved them. Afterall, you did end up risking blowing your cover when saving that drow women at moonrise tower.

Minthara's respect for you was nothing to scoff at. What's a cleric's faith when compared to a paladin's devotion?

Yet she still took a chance, a leap of faith for you.

One night before the two of you retreated to your own beds, she stopped you for a short conversation. Reluctance in her voice as she lowered her face and looked up at you, eyes glistening under the moonlight.

She explained her situation, her party for her coming of age ceremony that was long postponed, how she wished for you to accompany her as her date.

"Please, indulge me this once. And we can pretend it never happened afterwards...if that's what you wish." The words pained her to say, but the relief that followed at your acceptance made all the pain worth it.

She isn't sure where your heart lays, but for a day, it will be hers. Her faith will guide her, the faith that maybe one day, you too will return her feelings.

Karlach

She was nervously walking back and forth outside your tent just after dinner, unsure of how to approach you or even mention the topic.

Her tail aggiated and is switching between curling around her leg and lashing at the ground below. Karlach didn't bury her emotions as the engine in her chest glowed more and more, matching the redness of the sunset in the horizon.

Really, what was she thinking? Agreeing to the double date her friends offered her. She was too excited at having finally met more people from her past, ones that didn't stab her in the back, and one thing led to another.

It's not that she ment to lie to her friends...it was just hard to tell them that even after all these years, she still doesn't have someone to call her own. It felt embarrassing to admit how alone she was, how touch starved and repressed she felt.

Not to mention how every single one of her friends had already found someone. Most of them were married and the other half on their way to get married.

She didn't think they'd make a big deal out of it when she off-handedly mentioned that she was seeing someone, a simple white lie with no harm done. She thought they'd just be happy for her and move on.

But no, instead, it was as if she grew a second head right then and there. Everyone was so excited to meet her so-called partner.

And so she found herself like this, strolling around your tent like a loser, attempting to muster up the dignity to ask you to pretend to be her partner for tomorrow.

Only when bumped into something and lost her balance did she realise who stood in front of her.

Karlach's body pinned you to the ground with ease, even unintentionally her muscles could easily cage you on. Her skin hot against yours, she lifted her head and your faces were mere inches apart.

You didn't miss the way her eyes glances at your lips, the way her cheeks darkned when you licked them. The heacy of swallow afterwards before her lips twitched into a polite smile.

With a quick apology, she helped you up.

"Say soldier, have you ever played pretend before? You know that game that kids play." Very smooth Karlach, she thought to herself. "Uh...do you think the two of us can maybe play it tomorrow? Haha...ha."

You asked what she meant.

"I kinda of...well, I told my friends that I was already seeing someone so. Could you be that person? I'll pay you back tenfolds, I promise."

"Of course Karlach, anything you want." Accepting the awkward fistbump she offered you, in return you gave her a hug that lingered for more time than it should.

"Cool cool, great. I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Her tail was swishing excitedly behind her, a confident smile on her face as bright as the sun.

Rolan

He will show them, he thought, he will show his spoiled bratty siblings that he isn't as uptight and "scares away all suitors" as they claimed!

I mean, have you seen him? He is a very talented and capable wizard, how is it his fault that other people are far too dim and slow to realise how much of a catch he is, how his talent more than makes up for his sometimes bitter personality.

Lia was bragging again about the cute bard she managed to ask out, her third date this week. Rolan swears she is mentioning within earshot if him intentionally, hell even Cal gets the occasional longing stares at any tavren they go to.

Rolan isn't less than them and he will prove it. He just well...hasn't put himself out there yet, so what if he has zero experience with dating and romance? He is a fast learner, he is very confident in his ability to become an excellent lover in to time.

A day goes by, then two and three. Suddenly it's been a full week and he haven't had a speck of luck when it came to romancing someone. It's almost as if any person he approaches immediately loses interest the second he opens his mouth.

He is getting desperate, he can't let Lia know about this. She will never ever let him live it down.

So when you find him in the elfsong tavren, sitting alone on a table nursing on his drink with his tail curled around his leg. You stare at him long enough to catch his interest.

He recognises you immediately, you could see the cogs turning in his alcohol clouded mind.

"You, come here." He yells the order across the tavren, catching himself afterwards and clearing his thraot to lessen the embarrassment of the situation. Still his eyes begged you to approch him.

And you did, walking to his table and sitting down. After all your companions were still sleeping upstairs so what's the harm in indulging one drunk grumpy tiefling when you were supposed to be on a supply run.

Rolan orders you a drink too, his treats, he says without meeting your eyes.

And just as you take a sip, he lays it on you bluntly.

"From now on, I'm your boyfriend."

You choke on your drink, it takes him a moment to register the way he phrased his question.

Clearing his throat again, he refuses to meet your eyes as a blush colours his cheek. "No not like this, don't get the wrong idea."

Now you're sitting there, confused as the waiter brings you a towel to wipe down the drink you spilled on yourself. You thank them and take it, giving Rolan enough time to attempt to compose himself.

"I know i haven't made the best of impressions on you." He finally speaks up, "but I need you." His voice is more honest, a hint of vulnerability, "your help I mean. Lia and Cal, I want to prove them wrong."

His glossy eyes meet yours, the alcohol loosened his tongue.

"I'm not unlovable." He whipsers, "I'm not going to beg for a chance, I just need your cooperation for a day or two, just to shut them up."

Your hand goes above the table, wrapping around his own fist softly. "I understand, it's okay." You give it a light squeeze, "you don't have to explain yourself."

Somehow, your few words helped relieve his heart from its burden more than this whole night of drinking ever could.

#♡Wyll #♡Gale #♡Shart #♡Karlach #♡Rolan #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shart x reader #karlach x reader #rolan x reader #fluff #romance #fake dating #♡fluff #♡fake dating #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #Tara #shadowheart x reader

727 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 2 months

Note

Now I need the batfam as David

I should've answered this a while back but for those who don't know, David is my friend that I mentioned in this post who is the embodiment of Chaotic Stupid and gave at least one person gender envy, so anon is asking for the batfam as things about him

Dick: during his bottom surgery consultation, he asked if they could make his grayson as long as his arm

Jason: his dream job is either brewery owner or freelance pharmacist

Tim: he eats coffee beans like popcorn and mixes Rockstar with Gatorade

Damian: he chose his dad's name as his own to assert dominance

Duke: his lockscreen is a picture of himself wearing 6 hats on top of each other

Cullen: he twerked to Mama by My Chemical Romance

Stephanie: he celebrated his top surgery by doing a fake commercial shoot in his old Hooters uniform

Cassandra: his sleep paralysis demons disappeared after doing shrooms

Barbara: he thought his tweets would be anonymous if he used an incognito browser

Harper: he and his dad installed a urinal in their house while his mom and sister were away

Carrie: he bites right through the bones whenever we have wings

Kate: his fiancée banned him from wedding planning after he suggested edibles as a party favor

Helena: he's the reason water bottles at our former high school now have to be transparent

Luke: he's trying to grow a viking beard so he can braid it and hide stuff

Bette: his sister's old prom dress is now one of his drag outfits for amateur shows

Alfred: he thought London was just a city of the past, "like Rome or Athens" (his words not mine)

Selina: he's probably stolen around $6,000 worth of stuff by shoplifting at this point

Bruce: his main method of cooking is DoorDash because he once burned microwaved tea

255 notes · View notes

thatsdemko · 11 months

Text

the one where they notice - c.sainz

part 2: pining series

pining series masterlist

warnings: ig au posts + lighthearted jokes

a/n: thanks for all the love on part 1!! 🫶🫶

F1GOSSIP

liked by pierregasly, chilisainz, norrizsainz, and 1,368 others.

F1GOSSIP: our favorite Ferrari intern is BACK! y/n y/l/n shared this photo from the race in Australia☺️ we can’t wait to see more from her this 2023 season!

300 comments

norrissainz: we stan y/n!!!

gaslygaze: she’d look so good with Carlos… 👀

leclerc55sainz: she’s too hot for Carlos

liked by yourusername

bottaszhou: Pierre what are you doing here???

—

“so you’re too hot for me, eh?” the words startled you, as you had thought to have been alone. you arrived to qualifying much earlier than the drivers, and thinking you’d have time alone, you figured you’d catch up on your socials having no idea Carlos would see the comment.

“word travels fast around here.” you set your phone down, watching him slide into the empty seat across from you in the garage. it’s just the two of you waiting for everyone to pile in for the meeting. a hot steaming cup of coffee beans fills the smell of the room.

“now that I’m single, I have much more free time to listen to the gossip.” he comments, a chuckle escaping his lips before he sips the hot contents.

you just shake your head. the man across from you was nothing more than a coworker, maybe even an occasional friend from time to time, but you never got close. it was your rule, getting close meant you began to care for the men you worked with, and as much as you did care for them, they couldn’t be your friends. their obligations were to listen to your demands for media presence and that was as far as the contract went.

“you should spend more time on the simulator. spend your lonely nights perfecting your game.” your low blow earned a nod in approval, raising his cup to give you that point.

the silence fills the room. nothing but the sound of him slurping on the hot contents as bodies begin to move into the room for the meeting, and soon enough everyone’s seated.

the silence that once was there, has been born into commotion and you just listen to the mixture of Italian, French, and English flying every which way. your ears and eyes focus on Carlos and Charles conversation, the two always laughing and chatting, you can see Carlos relax with his team. the drama of yesterday and today seem to fade in these walls.

“let’s get started, shall we? we’ve got lots to talk about with Baku on the clock.”

—

qualifying goes rather difficult for one of the Ferraris. the grimace on your face is noticeable once Carlos steps out the car. he flashes a thumbs up to your phone camera for instagram and you quickly post it before shoving the device in your pocket, “we’ll get ‘em tomorrow, sainz. vamos.” you push him in the direction of the media pen and he follows.

“let’s just hope we can. I don’t have much faith left.” he exchanges his helmet for a cap from another intern, before entering the media pen. you don’t get much to say before interviewers swarm him, but like he always does, he flashes you his pearly fake smile before turning to the cameras.

he’d been doing it with you since you told him all of his emotions lie on the surface of his face. his fans can tell when he’s truly not happy, so you made a deal to help teach him how to fake a smile when times were bad.

“no you still look mad! smile with your eyes, dumbass.” you laugh pushing his cheeks to go wider, his giggle grows inside the motorhome, “I’m trying!”

“Carlos, what happened out there?”

TRENDING ON TWITTER

trending in Motorsport

CARLOS AND Y/N???

3,000 tweets

f1gossip

liked by peppersainz, y/nstannie, gaslec, & 1,357 others.

f1gossip: seems like things could be spicing up for chili? we noticed the way he looked at our y/n! thoughts?

210 comments

sainz55: he’s not even been single for 30 minutes and he’s making eyes at her?

dr3norris: it’s just an inside thing they do!! it’s nothing serious

russellgeorge: I would love to see it! she’s always been on his side(and have you noticed she always posts him in her photo dumps)

f1gossip: you’re onto something here 👀

tags: @arian-directioner @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ak0ma @ruebennett89 @mochimommy2002 @flyingmushroomss @icarus-nex @solo-pitstop-vibes @xjval @chimchimjiminie16 @tifosirussell @celestialpierre @moonvr @laneyspaulding19 @myescapefromthislife @formula1mount @moonyschocolate13 @bbubbllejisoo @summerslike11 @imperfectophelia @bhiees

want to be tagged in this series? let me know!

822 notes · View notes

magicalmysteries777 · 2 months

Text

"You're clueless, you know that?" - Reader x Eddie Munson & Reader x Steve Harrington (fake)

Summary: You agree to accompany Steve to Enzo's for Valentine's Day with only one shared goal in mind - to make Eddie so jealous he has no choice but to have the one conversation he's being avoiding.

Pairings: F!Reader x Steve Harrington & F!Reader x Eddie Munson.

Chapter: 1 of 1.

W/C: 2314.

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, besties! This trope paired with Steve and Eddie has had me in a chokehold for a while now and I'm so happy that the lil ADHD gremlin in my brain has finally let me write the damn thing. <3

This one-shot can also be found on AO3 here.

“You really think that’ll work? Pretending to go on a date with you?” you asked, leaning against the counter at Family Video.

“It better work. Personally, I’m sick of hearing you pine over him. He’s had a thing for you ever since you joined Hellfire but he’s completely clueless when it comes to all the hints you’ve dropped,” Robin chimed in without looking up from the ‘returns’ pile of videotapes she was sorting through.

Clueless didn’t even begin to cut it.

You’d known about Eddie’s crush on you for months now, ever since Dustin slipped up and spilled the beans at lunch one day. The poor kid made you swear on your own life that you wouldn’t tell Eddie you knew.

True to your word, you kept the secret and began dropping hints instead. Eddie couldn’t read the room to save his life.

Any time you caught him staring, he’d break eye contact before you could smile back at him. Any time your hands accidentally touched, he’d move his hand away and play it off if you didn’t keep your hand perfectly still.

“I think it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “There’s nothing like a bit of jealously to make you realise what you want.”

“I dunno,” you mumbled, chewing your cheek while you weighed up your options.

“When he sees you all dolled up, thinking it’s for me, the dots will connect. Trust me.”

“Fine, I’ll find out when he’s working.”

Steve’s plan had been in the back of your mind the whole time you’d been sitting around the table with your fellow Hellfire members. It was a long game of highs and lows all night. Despite the distraction, you’d manage to come out of the battle victorious with a mere five health points left. The party, albeit a little bruised and battered, was one step closer to defeating Myrkul and Eddie was in a good mood.

It took the usual fifteen minutes to pack up Eddie’s maps, dice, tokens, and other various game pieces before you climbed into the passenger side of his van. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologised.

“You say that every week and yet you never clean it.”

“I do, it just gets messy again,” he smirked.

You were halfway home when you glanced over at Eddie. His hair was frizzy, sticking up in places from all the near misses in battle where he’d had his hands running through it. The rings on his left hand were glowing gently from the reflection of his lit cigarette as he used it to control the steering wheel. His right hand was methodically fiddling with the busted cassette player that he’d been meaning to fix for months. As always when Eddie was concentrating, his tongue was sticking out and resting against his top lip.

“Got it!” he exclaimed as Rainbow in the Dark started blasting from the speaker, a huge grin spread across his face.

“When are you going to buy a new one?” you chuckled, prodding at the battered box.

“Stop touching it,” he slapped your hand away. “It’ll start crackling again. I’ve picked up some overtime next weekend, I’m hoping the gents will be tipping big to impress their dates.”

“No Valentine’s plan with anyone special then?”

“Nope, just work. Doubt there’s anyone out there who would want to spend their Valentine’s Day with the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ anyway.”

“You’d be surprised, some people like their men a little freaky.”

“What about you? Any plans?” he asked, the change in tone rather subtle.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if you were going to go through with the plan. Steve’s words echoed through your mind listed the pros and cons. ‘Trust me.’

“Yeah, I’ve got a date at Enzo's. At least I don’t have to worry about it going bad now if you’re working, you can come over and scare him off for me.”

“That’s great. Wow, a date. Um, yeah, I’ll fend him off for you if things go pear-shaped. Do I, uh, know the guy?” he stuttered.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” you answered, remembering Robin's claims that a little bit of mystery would be the key to the whole plan working.

“Of course,” Eddie agreed, a sarcastically dumb look plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but notice that this was exactly how he used to act when Dustin mentioned Steve. “Would you look at that? Here we are. Once again, dropped off in one piece, as requested.”

“You okay, Ed?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Yep. Fine. Tired,” he mumbled through an unconvincing yawn. “Long game. I’m gonna go and, uh, get some sleep. Night.”

“And he said it exactly like that?” Steve asked.

“Yes, Steve, how many times do I have to go through it? He basically kicked me out of the van,” you answered.

“It’s definitely working.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. Wait until he finds out it’s me, he’s gonna freak.”

“He might not react at all. Believe it or not, he is professional at work.”

“Bet on it?”

“Shut up.”

Eddie had been an asshole all week.

Jeff and Gareth got the worst of it. You, however, had been getting the silent treatment. It was Thursday lunchtime when Eddie finally acknowledged you again.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Dustin asked Mike.

“Movies with El then dinner, you?”

“Arcade with Will. What about you, Eddie?”

“Work and band, why?”

“It’s called small talk,” Dustin answered. “What is with you this week?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Tell your face that, man,” added Jeff.

“Lay off it. Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing this weekend instead and leave me alone?” Eddie prompted, gesturing in your direction. He did not stick around to hear the answer, walking away dramatically.

“Well, what are you doing?” asked Dustin.

“I’ve got a date,” you answered quickly and quietly, sinking into your seat as a sense of guilt began to creep up on you.

“You what?!” asked Gareth.

“I said I’ve got a date.”

“Yeah, I heard you. The fuck do you mean you’ve got a date? With who?”

“Does it matter?” you ask asked.

“Evidently it does. I’ve been taking the brunt of his crap all week and you’re telling me it’s because you’re going on a date?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d react like this?” you quickly try to defend yourself.

“Are you blind?” Jeff asks.

“No, but he is. I’ve dropped hints. Lots of them. If he doesn’t want to acknowledge it then that’s on him.”

“Wow,” smiled Steve, looking you up and down. He took your hand, albeit rather dramatically, and began leading you to the car.

“Save it for the restaurant, you dingus. Does this look okay then?” you ask.

“The dress alone might kill him, never mind the heels and hair.”

Ten minutes later, Steve parked up outside Enzo's.

“When we get in there, sit with your back to the bar. You’re about to get the full Harrington charm, okay?” he asked.

“Got it.”

“Hi there, table for two under Harrington,” Steve told the hostess.

“Follow me.”

“Here we are,” the hostess said as she gestured to a small table. “Here are your menus, the waiter will be over to take your order shortly.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking the seat that Steve had pulled out for you.

“So,” you began.

“So,” Steve replied with a grin.

“I’m not going to lie, Steve, I feel really awkward.”

“I can tell,” he responded. “Relax. We’re just two friends, dressed up, and having a nice meal. Loosen up a little and have fun, or this isn’t going to work.”

You tried to relax, really, you did. But you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Eddie was burning holes into the back of your head with his staring.

“Welcome to Enzo's, my name is Ruben and I’ll be your server this evening. Any drinks to start?”

“Sparkling water for me, and…” Steve prompted.

“Lemonade, please.”

“Awesome, I’ll get that put in at the bar for you. Any starters today?”

“Do you-” Steve began, turning his attention back to you.

“More of a dessert person,” you answer.

“Me too,” smiled Ruben. “What mains would you like?”

“Lasagne for me, please,” answered Steve.

“Chicken Alfredo, please.”

“Awesome. I’ll get all that put in for you, enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, ‘preciate that,” Steve told him before he left the table.

After a couple of minutes of the usual “how was work?” and “how was school?” small talk, Steve’s gaze quickly shot behind you as he sat up a little bit straighter.

“Here’s your lemonade,” Eddie announced, placing the glass down in front of you.

“Thanks, Eddie. How’s your shift?” you asked with a smile.

“So-so. Started going downhill about twenty minutes ago,” he answered.

“Nothing worse than a shitty Friday shift,” Steve chimed in.

“Evening rush,” Eddie responded, unwilling to meet Steve’s gaze. “Everything okay over here?”

“Great, thank you,” you respond.

“Harrington,” Eddie muttered, placing Steve’s water in front of him with a little bit more force than he did the lemonade, before heading back to the bar.

“He won’t even look at me, this is working even better than I thought,” Steve chuckled.

One hour and one chicken alfredo later, Ruben returned.

“Well you two are looking cosy over here,” he told you. Steve had been giving you cues on how to sit and when to laugh all evening. “How about that dessert? I highly recommend the ‘brownie and ice cream for two.’ Chef special tonight.”

“Sounds perfect,” answered Steve.

“Alrighty, that’ll be about ten to fifteen minutes. Any more drinks?”

“The same again, please,” you answer.

A couple of minutes later, Steve gave another instruction.

“Rest your left arm on the table.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Steve let out a sudden laugh and adjusted himself in his seat. He placed his arm on the table, his fingertips slightly brushing against your own.

A loud crashing noise from behind you had heads rolling to see what was going on. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant landed on Eddie.

“Sorry folks,” he announced. Eddie quickly began picking up the larger shards of glass whilst another bartender brought over cloths and a broom.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Steve whispered, loud enough for only you to hear.

You really were getting the full Harrington charm, as promised. Steve had been feeding you brownie on and off for ten minutes, his glancing over to Eddie quickly now and again.

“It’s almost time,” Steve whispered.

“Time for what?”

“The grand finale.”

Steve leaned in slightly and wiped the side of your mouth gently with his thumb. “Ice cream,” he smirked.

“Is that really necessary?”

“One hundred percent. On my cue, you’re going to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom,” he began.

“But-”

“If this whole fake date has gone to plan, which by the way has been lovely, then I do believe Munson won’t let you make it that far. Go now.”

As instructed, you excused yourself from the table and made your way towards the bathroom. Just as you got to the door you felt a hand close softly around your wrist.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked.

“Everything okay?”

“No, actually, it’s not,” he answered. Eddie glanced around before pulling you through a door labelled ‘staff only’.

“Eddie, wha-”

“You can’t date Steve.”

“I can date whoever I like Eddie,” you respond.

“Why him?” he asked, his hand still wrapped lightly around your wrist.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he began, pausing in thought. “Because he’s… he’s got a reputation. Surely you’ve heard all the rumours?”

“And we both know him well enough to know he’s not that person anymore,” you answer, your gaze locking with Eddie’s who, surprisingly, held it.

“You just can’t, please,” he pleaded.

“Give me a good enough reason as to why I shouldn’t go back out there and I won’t.”

Eddie stayed silent for a few moments, his big, brown eyes locked on yours. The small staff room became stuffy all of a sudden, the air so thick it felt like you could barely breathe. You held your ground, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t. You stared back at Eddie, your eyes pleading with him to just say something. Anything.

You broke your gaze from Eddie’s and turned towards the door, ready to give up and go home. Eddie’s grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you back towards him, using his free hand to cup your face as his lips met yours.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, Eddie kissing you, but it felt like forever. The tension in the air vanished, leaving you with a cozy feeling deep in your stomach, where the butterflies used to live.

“You can do better than him. You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who knows that you take extra sugar in your coffee when you’re studying. Someone who knows that you’re a completely evil genius in the best way possible when it comes to D&D. Someone who knows you’d rather be in bed with a book at-” he glanced at his watch, “nine o’clock at night. Someone who apparently isn’t very good at making the first move.”

“You’re clueless, you know that?”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again.

If it wasn’t for Ruben who knows how long you would have stood there, entwined together, lost in the moment.

“Hey man, you heading home?” Eddie asked casually, placing a little distance between the two of you.

“I was, but turns out I’m staying late. Guy with the hair on table twelve tipped me a hundred bucks to finish your bar shift and fetch a fresh brownie out. Said you ‘owe him one’ and you can ‘square it up later’. Brownie will be out in five. Enjoy.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #fluff #fake date #fake dating #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddies a big baby #smart steve #platonic steve harrington

290 notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 9 months

Text

Regulus Black - Asking for a Friend

Pairing : Regulus Black x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 4.4k Warning : I'm not sure if there's any, but let me know if I missed any. Synopsis : Regulus comes to the realisation that the admiration he holds of her was more than a platonic one and it just so happen that Valentine's day was just around the corner. Notes : Post no 2 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Regulus Black's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @coffeehurricanes @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaz-mf-brekker @sofiacblair @when-you-cant-think-of-anything

“Have you ever had a friend that you're just so fond of and you wish that your partner would be just like them?”

Regulus’ question broke the stillness of the table, making his study mates to look up. Now Pandora, having been known to be the most studious of the group, has always hated it when someone causes any distraction in their study sessions yet for this one particular topic, she seems to be intrigued rather than looking bothered. It isn’t everyday your best friend of 5 years would talk about their romantic interest, after all.

“Elaborate.” Pandora says, her brows knitted together.

“I mean, you know.. You wish that your partner would be just like them.”

Evan squints his eyes, seemingly confused at his brief explanation, “I’m not sure I’m following you, mate. Doesn’t that just simply mean that you fancy them?”

The nonchalant expression on Regulus’ face turns blank in an instant. As if someone has just flicked the light bulb on top of his head, clearing the haze that has been fogging his mind. The sudden clarity has knocked him for six. Is that truly what it means? Days spent silently praising her beauty and nights wasted recalling their conversations were because he fancies her?

Over the years Regulus would find more of her personality to be his weakness, growing the softest spot in his heart specially reserved for her. He would always admire her witty comments, how she always conveyed her mind with the most articulate and intelligent words. Her friendly and warm nature is always something he adores and the way she would always listen to every worthless remark Regulus has with that magnetising smile and understanding eyes, it was impossible for Regulus to not wish his partner would be someone like her.

“So,” Barty asks, nudging on the raven haired boy with a teasing smile “Which friend do we fancy?”

Regulus’ cheeks turn rosy. All hell would break loose if Barty or Evan found out about it. Those boys are as good as a toothpick for a door bolt. The moment they knew about his growing affection for her, they would most immediately spill the beans and make things awkward between them.

And no, Regulus could certainly never have that.

“No one.” Regulus lies as he looks back down to his parchment paper “We fancy no one.”

“Oh come on now, Big Boy.” Barty whines “You’ve ripped off the bandage, might as well show us the scar.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, attempting to look as nonchalant as he could, “You’re fond of Evan’s presence, doesn’t mean you fancy him now, do you?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t say that’s impossible.” Barty jests as he begins to make fake kissing expressions to Evan.

“Oh, my Darling, Barty Bear.” Evan indulges in his best friend’s stunt, fake snogging Barty.

Regulus’ lips twitch into a smile, amused at the play-act his best friends are performing. He let out a relieved sigh, knowing that he’s just flee himself from being pestered by questions about his crush, but when he turned his gaze to the only girl at the table, Regulus knew that the little smirk plastered on Pandora’s face would be a form of nightmare he’ll be facing from that day onwards. He knows that she wouldn’t rest until he gives out a name and though she looks like she already knows who the lucky girl is, Regulus is certain that Pandora wouldn’t show him any mercy from the teasing and taunts.

—-

Dinner has been hard to swallow ever since the realisation of his budding infatuation for her. Regulus finds it impossible to not glance at her table, watching her from his peripheral vision as she chats and laughs with her group of friends. Whatever joke Barty throws or moans Evan has about his class have entered and left his ear like an insignificant noise, mind completely enamoured with her candid beauty.

His grip on the fork only tightens as he realises that she was walking to their table, a brilliant smile decorating her face as she takes a seat next to him, “Evening my favourite Serpents.”

“Fantastic, you’re here!” Evan exclaims gleefully, taking her hands to his that made Regulus’ stomach drop a little “Regulus here has been so out of it since this afternoon, we think he’s broken.”

Barty nods eagerly, “He didn’t even twitch a muscle at my joke and mind you it was bloody brilliant!”

She let out a chuckle, looking at Regulus lovingly (at least in his mind) before turning back to face Evan and Barty. Now the words exchanged between the five of them have gone from a trifling noise to a completely deafen sound. His eyes were glued on hers, taking mental notes of all the little gestures she made. How she would close her eyes shut whenever she laughs, how her brows crinkled more often than not, and how her cheekbones pop wherever she smiles, making her look a thousand times more hypnotising.

Now it was nothing out of the ordinary for Regulus to be the most quiet party of the table, but the little to no words uttered by him was making her suspicious. Sure it wouldn’t be the first time he would watch her intently and just agree with whatever is being discussed, but something’s different this time. The way his shoulder relaxes and how the small curl on his lip never waters was making her feel a little bit flustered to say the least.

“You’re awfully quiet,” She says as she turns to the lovestruck boy, resting her chin on her palm to stare back at him “Cat caught your tongue?”

Regulus blinks, gulping at the close proximity, “Just— Didn’t really have anything to say, is all.”

“Really?” She asks with a raised brow “That’s very unlike you.”

“How is it unlike me?”

“Well, you always have something to say. Whether or not you speak of it is an entirely different conversation to have, but you always have something to say, Regulus.”

Regulus bites his inner cheek. How is it that she could read him like an open book? Was he really that transparent or was he really that spellbound in her charms?

“Don’t bother him. Big boy here is trying to sort his feelings out.” Evan retorts.

“Really?” She replies, amused “What sort of feelings?”

“The loving, sappy kind of feelings.” Barty mocks “Regulus is in love.”

“Shut up, Barty!”

Regulus turns to her, uneasy over the fact that she might figure out his little secret but the look on her face was disheartening. As much as he wished he could have just half of her ability to read him, it was nearly impossible for Regulus to decipher her expression. She was staring back at him, her brows knitted as if she’s trying to read through him too but wasn’t sure on what to look at. It was a whole new expression he’s never seen before.

“Reggie wouldn’t give us the name,” Evan continues, completely oblivious of the awkward tension rising “Can we take a guess, Reg? Say yes if we guess correctly?”

“I bet it’s that girl Regulus always sits next to in Potion.” Barty mutters.

“Or that girl Regulus did his Herbology essay with. They spent weeks on that assignment, remember?” Evan counters “Or maybe that Gryffindor—,”

“It’s not any of those girls,” Pandora cuts.

“How would you know?” Evan asked.

“Oh, I just do,” Pandora says with a confident shrug, turning to Regulus “Don’t I, Reg?”

Regulus shakes his head, still trying to do the most possible damage control though he knew that such effort seems fruitless now. Cat’s out of the bag. It would only be a matter of time now until she realises that she’s the girl he’s been swooning over.

Ironic how long it took for him to realise that he fancies her yet it took no time for the secret to be spilled.

“Don’t push his buttons, guys,” She says with a warm laughter “If Regulus doesn’t want to drop names, then let him. It’s not our business now, is it?”

Now Regulus frowns a little. Her words sting a way he was never familiar with. What does she mean that it isn’t their business? Does she not care about who he’s crushing on?

“If you say so,” Pandora said to her, winking as if there was some secret message sent between the two.

Regulus studies her expression intently, trying to see if Pandora has cracked his secret and is now spilling it to her. Salazar, Regulus hopes that that wasn’t the case. He needs time to sort out his feelings, as Evan said, and if she found out about his budding infatuation before he could figure out a proper way to profess it— Well, Regulus hoped that it would never get to that point. Ever.

—-

If Regulus was ever asked, which of the following could ever compare to the beauty that is her: sun, moon, or star, Regulus would argue that she is the beautiful crescent moon with its bright yet soft light washing over his skin as he stares at her silently on his window pane. Regulus would argue, if he ever allows himself to be so bold, that she is his ideal. Her intelligence not to mention beauty would be the sweet honey to his tea, the butterfly to his garden of flowers.

But Regulus was never half as confident as she is. Never half as open and friendly to others. He was reserved, quiet, oftentimes perceived as cold and callous. But not to her. She could always see him through his distant exterior, involving him in every discussion they would have and perhaps that was the one thing that made him yield his heart to her.

Regulus never paid any mind to big dates and celebrations, but something about the upcoming Valentines date shakes his core. Perhaps it was the fact that it fell on the very day of their Hogsmeade trip this week, or the fact that all of his friends were buzzing about who they're going to ask to be their Valentines date, or maybe the fact that for once, Regulus might have a proper chance to ask her to be his date.

Chance. That word felt too optimistic for his presumptive mind. It was as if she ever looked at him that way.

“Regulus?” She called and squeezed his forearm lightly, making him burst his bubble of thought. He turns to her, cheeks slightly rosy from the shame of having ignored her. Just how pathetic he is to zoned out about her when she's sitting right beside him “Are you alright? You've been off of it all morning, I’ve noticed.”

He nods, flashing a shy smile, “All is well, no worries.”

She smiles, taking her hand off of him and continues her work.

Regulus turns his head, stopping at the sight of some Ravenclaw boy asking some Hufflepuff girl by the library entrance. The bashful gesture he’s showing and the giddy smile she shows makes it easy for him to tell the situation is happening at the spot. Another couple for the Valentine's Hogsmeade trip, he reckons.

A little twist in his stomach grows. With the many people asking each other out for the Hogsmeade trip, it would only be normal for him to ask her too, right? The timing was right, they could just go as friends in the worst case scenario. All he has to do is ask, but why are the words stuck at the tip of his tongue?

“Actually,” Regulus starts, secretly playing with the hem of his robe in nervousness “I have something to ask you.”

She looks up, meeting him with a warm smile, “Shoot.”

“I was wondering if you have a date for the Hogsmeade trip?”

“Oh,” She answers, utterly taken aback by his question. A hint of rosiness spread on her cheeks, something Regulus has to convince himself has nothing to do with his question. She always has that natural flush on her face, surely it must be nothing as pleasant as his stupid heart is hoping for “No, I don’t have a date at the moment. Why do you ask?”

“Just.. Asking for a friend.”

Regulus mentally slapped himself, having to be defeated by his anxiety once again that he has to come up with a lie. She stares at him with a confused look, the glimmer on her eyes dims down from the words he uttered. It was as if she was disappointed at his answer.

“I see,” She says with a nod “Do you plan to ask anyone?”

“Not sure,” He answers truthfully “Do you have anyone you hope would ask you?”

She plays with her quill, tapping it to the parchment paper as if she was piecing the right words to reply to him, “I suppose I do but I’m not counting on it.”

Regulus frowns, ignoring the slight crack of his heart, “Who?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Regulus pursed his lips, acting to be in a deep thought, “No.”

She chuckles, turning back to her paperwork.

“But, if—” Regulus calls again, not wanting to end their conversation just yet “If my friend were to ask you, would you say yes?”

“Well it truly depends on which friend you’re talking about now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but what is the possibility of you saying yes to my said friend? 50%? 60%? Or are you fully waiting for your prince charming to ask you?”

She stares at him with a smile, looking completely amused at the questions thrown at her. If she didn’t know better she would think that Regulus was asking for himself from all the persistent queries, but then of course, we all know how Regulus Black is. No girl in this castle is good enough for him and this rule applies to her too.

“Why don’t you just tell this friend to come to me himself, hm?” She answers, resting her chin on her palm and stares at him fondly “I truly can’t give you any answers unless you give me a name, Reg.”

“It’s Evan.” He blurts, cheeks feeling hot from her gaze.

“Rosier?” She asks with a raised eyebrow “I thought he’s going with Pandora? I was sure she told me he asked her last week.”

“Did I say Evan? I meant Barty.” Regulus fake coughed, clearing his throat “Barty wanted to ask you to be his date.”

The soft and gentle expression on her face turns into an appalled one, bewildered at the answer Regulus gives. His brain has haywired that he neglected the fact that Barty was her cousin, and though cousin romance is deemed acceptable in the wizarding world, Barty and her would never pursue each other romantically for one too many reasons. If Regulus could just tame his nervousness for just a degree, he would’ve realised how idiotic his answer was.

“Barty wants to be my date?” She asks, trying to confirm his answer that sounded like a death sentence for her.

Regulus nods, “He does.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to catch his lie but the stern and rigid expression on Regulus’ face makes her question her own mind. Regulus was never one to be deceitful yet the idea of Barty wanting to ask her to be his date is just as illogical. The only plausible reason behind such a stunt would be them trying to pull some prank on her, but even with that, Regulus was never one to ever indulge in the mischief her cousin and Rosier would always find themselves in.

“I— Well, I guess you should tell him to ask me himself?” She answers, questioning herself.

“I’ll do that,” Regulus nods firmly, trying to keep his act in place “I’ll tell him you said that.”

—-

A couple of days has passed ever since that incident of him blurting Barty’s name at the library. Regulus was still ever so stressed out to ask her himself that he still hasn’t realised the stupid mistake he’s done. Now with the Hogsmeade trip coming closer, Regulus really has no other time but now to ask her.

Yet before he could do so, the universe crushed his dream.

Barty entered the Slytherin Common Room with the brightest grin on his face, making Evan, Regulus, and Pandora look at each other from the strange sight. He jumps to the sofa, sighing with delight as he lay on it and rests his feet to the hand rest. Barty turns to see his friends who now still look at him with a baffled expression, enjoying the sight and looking forward to stomping on one of them in the next minute.

“Gentlemen,” Barty greets before turning to Pandora “My Lady.”

“What’s with you?” Evan asks, an amused smile plastered on his face “You look like you’ve just won a lottery.”

“Even better, I just got a date.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, “A date? Who?”

Barty coos, saying her name.

“Wait, isn’t she—”

“Brilliant, indeed.” Barty cuts, not letting Evan to correct the fact that they’re cousins. He shot him a look, one that conveys I’ll tell you later and Evan nods in understanding.

Colour drains from Regulus’ face. Just when he finally gathered enough courage to come forward, he just has to be beaten to the race. By Barty of all people. Supposed she came and asked Barty about their conversation that day and knowing Barty, he would never let such an opportunity slip. Who would ever not want to have her as their date after all?

“Who would’ve thought, right?” Barty fawns, pouring Regulus’ jealousy with petrol “Barty Crouch Jr having such a beautiful bird as his date for Valentine's.”

Evan was eyeing his friend with a sceptical look, clearly lost at the scheme Barty was pulling, “Barty, can I see that Transfiguration homework you promised me now? I have quite a lot to catch up on.”

“Sure,” Barty says, catching Evan’s bullshit right away as he stood from the sofa “It’s in my room.”

And so the two boys left, leaving Regulus who looks like he’s second away from vomiting all contents of his stomach and Pandora who’s casually flipping the pages of a magazine in her hand, an all knowing smirk present on her lips.

“Pandora,” Regulus calls, eyes still vacant “Do you have your wand with you?”

Pandora hums.

“Please hex me to death right now.”

The girl laughs at his request. Pandora put down the magazine and looked at Regulus with a teasing smile, “Why would you ask me that, Reggie?”

Regulus glares, “You know why. I saw your smile the other day when she came to our table. You know about it, don’t you?”

“About what?”

“That I was crushing on her.”

Pandora shrugs, “Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Regulus crowls “What am I to do now?”

Pandora chuckles, patting Regulus’ shoulder in an attempt to console him. Pandora felt cruel now to be the one to suggest the prank, to tell her and Barty to go on a fake date just to mess with Regulus. In her defence, out of the five of them, it seems like Regulus is the only one who doesn’t realise his growing affection for her. It was a public secret for the group now that he’s been sending her heart eyes. All he needed was a push and Pandora felt like it was her duty to help him.

Even when Regulus would surely throw a fit once he knew she was the mastermind behind his distraught now.

“Why don’t you just come to Hogsmeade, Reg?” Pandora suggests, playing the innocent supportive friend now “If their date doesn’t go well, you can go and rescue her.”

Regulus turns to see Pandora, his eyes hopeful at the advice, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Pandora encourages “I mean, how many similarities does she have with Barty? Almost none. I’m pretty sure their date will turn downhill the moment they step into Madam Puddifoot’s shop.”

“How do you know they’ll go to Madam Puddifoot’s?”

Pandora shrugs, “Don’t all couples go there?”

Regulus bites his inner cheek as he gives it a thought. The idea of her going to such a sappy tea shop with Barty peels his skin. It should be him and her, not Barty and her. What was in her bloody mind to ever say yes to Barty’s invite in the first place?

“Fine,” Regulus says with an exasperated sigh “I’ll go to Hogsmeade.”

—-

Regulus’ tea has long gone cold, untouched as he impatiently waits for her and Barty to enter the tea shop. He figured, if they wanted to have their date here, where else would be the best place to spy on them than the very shop itself? So he got himself a table, ordered himself tea and biscuits that only served as props on his table, while his eyes were glued to the door. Every jingle of the bell felt like an invisible blade thrown to pierce his heart.

He looks down to his watch. It’s been more than an hour now. When would they come? How long should he wait? Will they even come to this tea shop like Pandora said?

Before his head could explode with more questions, Regulus’ breath was held on his chest as she finally entered the establishment. Her cheeks were rosy, probably from the cold wind outside. Regulus wished he could take a picture of her now because Merlin, just how hypnotising could she be?

To think that she dressed up for a date with Barty crushes him, but where even is Barty?

Regulus’ brows were raised now. Did Barty stood her up? Is that why she’s alone now? But she doesn’t look the slightest bit annoyed or sad if such a scenario did occur. She has her eyes scanning the tables now, looking for something, someone, and when their eyes meet, her smile blooms and walks closer to him.

“Hello, there,” She greets, pointing at the empty seat in front of him “Is this seat taken?”

Regulus shakes his head, in loss of words as he tries to assess the situation happening.

She happily took her seat, ordering herself something to drink before turning back to Regulus. Her gaze met his, hands clasped on the table. Her brilliant smile was still evident and it’s making Regulus feel like he could melt and die right on that instant.

“So,” She started, her tone cheerful “What are you doing here, Regulus?”

“I— Uh—” Regulus stutters “I— I was supposed to meet someone.”

“Really?” She asks, intrigued “Who?”

“Just— No one important.” He answers, running his palms to his trousers in nervousness “What are you doing here? I heard you have a date with Barty today. Where is he?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Did he stood you up?” Regulus asked, his anger starting to rise. How dare he stood her up?

“Oh, no, he didn’t. I just cancelled our date.” She says nonchalantly “I find it too cruel to proceed so I bailed on them.”

“Cruel? Them?” Regulus asked, confused “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you sweet soul,” She says with a gentle chuckle, taking one of his hands softly and caressing the back of it with her thumb “Who is it again that you said was asking me for a date?

“Barty.” Regulus says with a nervous gulp.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t truly him now, was it?” She asks “Cause I’m pretty sure Barty would never be interested in me in that way, seeing that we’re cousins.”

Regulus closes his eyes, letting out an embarrassed sigh. That day in the Common Room must have been some sick joke the other’s were pulling at him. How Barty entered with such a huge grin and Pandora’s pitiful yet teasing look at him. They both must have been the miscreants behind this humiliating act.

“I’m going to kill them,” Regulus mutters, not meeting her eyes.

“Please, don’t,” She answers with a laugh “They mean well, I promise you.”

“They’re making me look pathetic in front of you.”

“That’s debatable,” She remarks “I find it cute and adorable, to be honest. And to be fair, it was you who lied to me first. They’re just following your ruse.”

“I’m sorry,” Regulus says “Are you angry at me?”

“No,” She says, shaking her head “I was appalled at first, but then I realised that you might just be shy about it so I just brushed it off.”

Regulus nods, smiling at her weakly from her understanding.

Now what? He thought. Cats out of the bag, for good this time. What should he say now? What should he do? Would she like him to say anything about it? Do anything about it? What if she’s just here out of a friendly gesture? That she doesn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of the others?

But the tender gaze she gives to him now, the understanding smile and the gentle touch she’s giving him, it all feels like a supportive push for him to go forward. To finally embrace his realisation of affection and hand his heart to her now.

“So I guess you know already..” He begins “About my feelings.”

“I have a rough idea of it.” She teases.

“What do you think about it?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, do you think it was okay? For me to fancy you?” Regulus asks, uncertainty bleeding out of his voice “Would it be okay if I like you?”

“If it wasn’t okay with me I wouldn’t be here with you, would I?” She argues, her kind smile still tugging on her lips “I do have to confess that I expected more than just ‘fancy’ or ‘like’. I thought we’ve gone past that phase already.”

“We?”

She raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t really think that this flows one way, did you?”

“I— I don’t know.”

“Oh, you blind child,” She chuckles “I fancy you too, Regulus. Perhaps even more than that.”

“I— Really?” Regulus asks, blushing yet still trying to understand her words as if she’s been speaking in a different language “This better not be another prank you and Pandora or Barty or Evan is pulling on me.”

She chuckles, “It’s not, I can assure you.”

“Prove it.”

She squints her eyes, giving his challenge a thought before standing a little from her seat. She begins to lean in, inching closer to his face and closing her eyes when their hot breaths begin to meet each other’s skin. She gives the lightest brush to his lips, so soft that it felt feather-like but still sent jolts of electricity down his spine.

She pulls away a little, still so close to him that their noses brush with each other. She gazes into his eyes, lovestruck and content, “Was that enough of a proof?”

“No,” Regulus breathes, whispering “Do it again.”

#regulus black #regulus black imagine #regulus black imagines #regulus black scenario #regulus black scenarios #regulus black fanfic #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fluff #regulus black oneshot #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x oc

547 notes · View notes