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super-unpredictable98 · 1 year

Note

Oh that's lovely. Can you do Klaus Hargreeves falling for a Johanna Constantine kind of reader while working with her? (She is an exorcist , an excellent demon hunter on hire , is a beautiful mixture of selfish, selfless , self-hating , self important and I feel mirrors Klaus but is not his female version if you get what I mean) Love ya 🤧

Not So Haunted | The Umbrella Academy AU

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Word Count: 1,1 k

Warning: Strong language, alcohol

a/n: Thank you for the request, I hope I was able to capture the character you imagined. I'll admit I was not familiar with this idea, but I did my best to make it come true and I hope you like it <3

(Masterlist)

You were already used to the creepy houses, the creaking doors, the dark rooms. It was your job after all, to go to these haunted houses and cleanse them so some hipster could remodel them and tell all of his friends he lives in a house where there's a ghost but without having to deal with an actual ghost.

"God, but this place is a dump..." you mumbled to yourself.

"I don't think it's that bad," you heard a voice and looked around trying to find the source. Spirits could be vocal, even though they usually didn't straight up talk to you like that.

But there was no ghost, there was a man. He was tall and slender, wearing a long coat with a furry collar. His leather pants were as tight as they get, his eyeliner was smudged, black nail polish chipped from his nails, and he wore a top that could only be described as slutty.

"Excuse me, what are you doing here? Something tells me you're not the owner," you quirked an eyebrow at him.

"This place has an owner? I could've sworn it was abandoned... I just came here to get high in peace."

"It was just bought by some guy who wants to flip it and resell it. But first I need to clean it up."

"So you're the maid."

"I'm the exorcist."

The man's mouth fell open and he nodded, finally understanding what was going on. He held his hands up almost like you had a gun pointed at him and you tilted your head seeing those tattoos on his palms. Maybe with a better light, you'd be able to see he was quite attractive.

"That's why this place is so weird," he sighed, relieved to be intoxicated and not having to deal with the spirits. "I'm Klaus, by the way."

"Y/n," you held out your hand for him to shake, but he kissed it instead. Despite his affectations, he was quite sweet.

"So, y/n, can I interest you in a drink?"

Klaus held up a bottle of whiskey already half empty, and you thought for a moment. You were strictly against drinking while working, but... he was so intriguing, you didn't wanna blow him off and miss the opportunity to have a conversation and unveil his mysteries.

"Why not?"

After a while, you were both laughing and talking like old friends. Alcohol has that sort of power. The house didn't seem scary anymore when the lights were on and you were both sitting on the floor sharing that drink. It was just a silly house with some spirits in it, nothing you were not both used to.

"So, you hear these spirits and all that shit and that doesn't freak you out?" Klaus asked after taking a large sip.

"Not really, I'm sorta used to it and it gives me money. I think it's a pretty cool talent actually," you shrugged.

"Well, I think it's a nightmare. These ghosts are horrifying, I hate seeing them, I hate hearing them, I hate when they ask me to finish their unfinished business. I'm not a fucking mailman, it's exhausting!"

"Is that why you're like this? You're constantly drinking and God knows what else to drown out the voices?" you asked.

"Yeah... I gotta stay high all the time, to keep them off my mind," he sang, slurring a little bit from all the whiskey.

You laughed, taking the bottle from him to drink some as well. Even though you knew good decisions never came from drinking too much, you couldn't help but want to get that buzz and show him you were also interesting and cool. You wanted to make bad decisions if they would lead you closer to him.

"So, what else do you do besides exorcisms? Any hobbies, interests, dates..." he casually asked.

You swallowed before answering, it had been a long time since you thought about dates. Not that you were saving yourself for someone special, but you also didn't want anything to do with the assholes that crossed your path.

"I like... movies?" you laughed.

"Movies? Oh, come on! This is the most cliche thing ever, everybody likes movies. Give me something real!"

"Fine! I don't really know, when you put me on the spot like this I get nervous and I don't know what to say."

"Do I make you nervous then?" Klaus smirked and you looked away, trying not to think about his penetrating gaze locked on you.

"Someone thinks highly of themselves. I'm way out of your league," you scoffed playfully.

"That's cause you haven't seen me with my clothes off yet," he teased.

"I gather you're single?"

"Always, relationships haven't been really my thing. I liked someone a long time ago, but it didn't work out."

It wasn't hard to understand why he would open up to someone he just met half an hour ago about things he was hesitant to talk about with everyone else in his life. There was nothing to lose, someone from the outside wouldn't judge and if they did, it wouldn't matter as much.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out. I'm sure you have no shortage of people interested in you though," you said before you could stop yourself.

"You really think so?" he grinned smugly, knowing damn well how attractive he was. "Would you get in line?"

"You wish!"

Klaus took a bit of a chance and leaned over, pressing his lips against yours. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, but also something sweet, you couldn't quite put your finger on it, but you liked it.

"Oookay, we just met and you already interrupted my work to get me drunk, asked me all sorts of questions, and now you kissed me?" you tried to hide how much you wanted to keep going. "How am I supposed to concentrate on the cleanse now?"

"Sorry, but I think I waited long enough, usually at the club I don't even have all this talk, we drink and get down to business."

"Wow, romantic."

"I didn't peg you for a romantic type."

"That just shows how little you know me then."

Klaus bit his lip, watching how red your cheeks had gotten and it felt like a victory to him.

"If I help you cleanse this house, will you go out with me?" he asked.

"I thought you hated the ghosts."

"I do, but it's worth it sometimes. So, will you?"

"Why do you even wanna go out with me?"

"You're nice and funny and your face makes me wanna smile."

Those peeks at his sweet side melted down your walls and you couldn't say no. "It's a date."

"See? I knew you liked me."

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @salvador-daley @seanfalco @firstpersonnarrator

#request #tua klaus #tua #tua imagine #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy klaus #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanfic #fanfic

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salvador-daley · 1 year

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Clone | Part 1

Robert Sheehan x Reader x Female!Robert Sheehan | 🍆🍑👀

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this forever and it just seems like a waste to have it languishing in my WIPs folder, so I’m gonna split it into three (increasingly sexy) parts and give y’all one a week. It’s not strictly RPF - more like original characters based on you-know-who. If you like this chapter, please lemme know coz it’ll motivate me to write the *ahem*… climax.

CW: Smutty but very tame by my standards. Includes numerous health & safety violations at work culminating in a blow-job related accident.

Words: 2.5k

Gif by @circumstellars

THE LAB is quiet. Everyone else went home hours ago. As you raise your head from your microscope, you’re not expecting to feel two soft hands enveloping your eyes. The sensation startles you, but then a gentle Irish voice whispers in your ear, “Guess who?”

“Graham Norton,” you say with confidence.

He lifts his hands from your eyes and pops his head over your shoulder.

“Do I really sound like Graham Norton,” he says, pretending to be offended.

You reach up to your boyfriend’s face with a smile and bring his familiar lips to yours.

“Only sometimes,” you say once your mouths part. “How did you get in here? Didn’t you get stopped by security?”

“What, old man Joe on the door?” he asks, perching on the lab stool next to yours. “Nah, we’re old friends, me and him.”

You give him a questioning look.

“I signed some stuff for his granddaughter,” he says by way of explanation.

You roll your eyes; Joe is such a pushover. Considering the kind of work you’re involved in, one would think your employers would be keen to enforce stricter security protocols.

“It should not be that easy to get in here. This is highly sensitive work,” you say, shaking your head as you carefully pack away your slides.

“What’re you working on, anyway?” he asks, squinting to look down your microscope.

You slip your hand over it, obscuring his view.

“Listen, Irish,” you say, using his preferred nickname, “this is top secret shit, okay? You can’t just come in here and start messing around.”

“C’mon,” he says, flashing you his trademark smile. “I’m just trying to take an interest in my girlfriend’s work.” His hands loop around your waist and he draws you closer. You feel his hot breath on your face as his lips find yours again, kissing away your protestations.

His face comes away and you look into his deep green eyes. Much like old Joe succumbs to his charms with frightening regularity, Irish has on more than one occasion convinced you to bend the rules for him with his formidable powers of persuasion.

This is different though, this could get you into a lot of trouble. The lab might be deserted, but still you look around to check if the coast is clear.

“Okay, if I show you this one thing you have to promise me you won’t say a word to anyone,” you say.

He raises three fingers to his forehead and smiles.

“Scout’s honour,” he replies.

“This is Pedro,” you say, lifting the small white rabbit from its cage and holding it tightly to your body.

“Aw, hey, Pedro!” Irish says, reaching out to pet the shivering creature’s ears. “Is this what you wanted to show me? Because I’ve seen a bunny rabbit before, you know.” He pulls his hand away and lets out an exaggerated gasp, reaching up to his cheeks in simulated shock. “You’re not going to dissect Pedro, are you? You monster!”

You bat him lightly on the arm. “No, don’t be daft, I’m not going to hurt him,” you say, carrying the small animal to the other side of the lab. “We’re just going to do a little experiment, aren’t we, Pedro?” you add, murmuring into the rabbit’s soft fur.

You lead Irish and the rabbit to the end of the lab, where two large Perspex cylindrical booths reach from the floor to the ceiling. A short series of satisfying pips accompanies your fingers on the keypad belonging to the left booth, the curved wall of which rolls open, allowing you to carefully place Pedro on the floor inside. A few seconds, the door slides closed automatically and you move to the large dual computer monitors at a nearby desk, tapping away at the keyboard.

“If you’re going to make him disappear, wouldn’t it be easier to use a big top hat?” Irish quips.

“Shush, I’m concentrating,” you admonish him. Finally, and with a flourish, you hit the Enter key.

“Cloning sequence initialised,” says a computerised voice, followed by a flurry of electronic whirring sounds that echo around the empty lab.

Irish’s eyes search for the source of the noise before settling eventually at the end of the lab. Slowly, both cylinders begin to fill with neon green smoke until the rabbit has disappeared completely beneath the heavy fog.

“Pedro!” he cries. “You fucking gassed him!”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” you assure him.

He steps forward and presses his hands against the Perspex tube, his face illuminated by the bright green mist.

“This is mental,” he whispers, watching as the coloured gas swirls inside the cylinder, before finally being sucked into a vent at the top.

“Subject discharged,” says the computerised voice and the door of the left cylinder rolls open again, a puff of the remaining gas escaping into the lab. Unmoved, Pedro hops out and you scoop him up, placing him on the desk.

“See?” you say, indicating to the rabbit. “He’s totally fine.”

Irish reaches out to pet him and Pedro’s tiny nose twitches with excitement.

“Hey buddy,” Irish whispers.

Now the gas begins to clear from the right cylinder. You both turn to watch as the cloud of green smoke shoots up into the vent.

“Cloning sequence complete,” says the computerised voice.

The door to the right cylinder rolls open and you crouch down to reach inside, pulling out another small, white rabbit.

Irish’s jaw falls open as you stand, bringing the animal over to the desk.

“This,” you say, allowing the two rabbits to make their introductions, “is Petra.”

“What the fu-” Irish says under his breath.

“She’s identical to Pedro in every way. Well, every way but one, obviously. All of the clones have come out female so far. We’re still working out some of the design kinks.”

“You invented a fucking cloning machine?” he says, the magnitude of what he’s just witnessed finally dawning on him.

You shrug: “Well, I helped.”

He crouches down until his head is level with the desk, watching with fascination as the two rabbits sniff each other with curiosity.

Pedro hops around the desk, then approaches Petra from behind, mounting her without hesitation and beginning to rut with a certain level of determination.

Irish gives out a high-pitched laugh: “Ha! They seem to like each other.”

“Oh,” you chuckle, “yeah, they do that sometimes.” You lift Pedro off his female counterpart and place him back down on the desk. “Horny little buggers.”

“Gives me an idea,” he says, rising and turning to you with a familiar look in his eyes.

“Here?” you ask, incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, wrapping his hands around your ass and drawing you closer. “All this clever clogs stuff really turns me on,” he growls, biting his bottom lip.

You put up a weak protest as his mouth begins to travel around your neck. “Someone might come in…”

“No one’s gonna come in, there’s no one here,” he says, his lips dotting the space behind your ear with persuasive little kisses.

You let out a gentle sigh, signalling your assent. You know it’s risky to fool around in the lab, but you have to admit it’s been a long-time fantasy of yours. Besides, you always let him have his own way in the end - he’s just too damn hard to resist.

“Mmmn… you smell so good,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice melting any lasting trace of resistance on your part.

You run your hands underneath his tank top and press his body to yours, feeling his warmth envelop you.

His lips are on yours now, his tongue teasing your mouth open as his hands move under your clothes.

You start to remove your long white lab coat, but he stops you, tugging it back over your shoulders.

“No, no, leave the lab coat on,” he whispers with a smile, “it’s sexy.”

Now he’s pressing his hands into your flesh over your clothes, drawing you closer as his lips move to your ear.

“Your big fucking brain turns me on so much,” he says, nibbling the side of your neck. “I just want to bend you over one of these lab benches and fuck you senseless.”

As fun as that sounds, you have other ideas. Pulling away from him, you lift his tank top over his head and his fluffy curls bounce around his ears as you drop the garment to the floor. He grins that irresistible grin at you - the one that sparks something raw and animalistic inside you. Feeling bold, you press your palms into his chest, pushing him up against one of the cylinders.

“There’ll be time for that,” you say, allowing him to feel your breath on his face before your lips seek him out again.

He moans into your kiss, his breaths becoming short and staggered as your hands find his belt buckle. You tug on his fly and reach inside for his cock, feeling him already straining against the thin material of his underwear.

His eyes close and he presses his head against the curved Perspex as you palm him, rolling him between your lightly tented fingers.

He exhales one long, jagged breath: “Oh, you’re teasing me,” he complains with clenched eyes, his voice straining under your feathery touch.

You love to watch him like this, each stroke of your hand releasing more whispered pleas from his lips.

Now you’re tracing tiny kisses down the length of his body, dragging his clothes off as you go. You pull his trousers down to his ankles and he shakes his feet out of them, kicking his flip flops off at the same time.

Kneeling in front of him, you grab his naked ass and pull him towards your face, rolling circles around him with your tongue.

“Ah, please, please,” he begs under his breath.

He whimpers as you finally take him into your mouth, pushing his hips against the curved plastic wall behind him.

Slowly, indulgently, your mouth moves over him, pulling him towards you with two firm hands clasped around his ass.

As your lips reach the light scattering of hair at the base, he releases a heavy exhale, the air leaving his lungs in one, long relieved chuckle. You cast your eyes up to meet his and he reaches down to stroke your hair, a delighted smile on his face.

“You look so good like that,” he says, moving his hips in a tentative rhythm.

You start to pick up speed, swirling your tongue around his length with each bob of your head until his back is pressed against the booth, his breathing coming now in short, anguished gasps.

Before long, you’re diving on him, aided by your hand, sucking and slurping, drooling and gagging. He begins to thrust his hips into your face and you sense he’s getting close.

Approaching the edge, his legs begin to buckle and he reaches behind him to steady himself, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on whatever they can find.

As his moans of encouragement ring around the lab, you hear a short series of satisfying pips.

His cock pops from your mouth and you look up at him. “What was that noise, was that the keypad?” you ask.

“Huh? What?” he says, looking down at you over his heaving chest, unable to hide his displeasure that you’ve suddenly stopped sucking his dick at the crucial juncture.

At that moment, the cylinder door rolls open and he topples asslong inside the tube, smacking his curly head hard against the inside wall and landing in a naked heap on the floor.

“Irish!” you call out, scrambling to your feet.

Before you can react, the cylinder door has closed around his unconscious body, trapping him inside.

“Irish!” you call again, hammering on the cylinder to wake him up, but he’s out cold.

Your fingers are frantic, hammering on the keypad, but in your panic you hit the wrong buttons and the machine beeps at you in stubborn refusal.

You race around to the desk, but you’re a split second too late. You watch as Pedro does a slow-motion bounce across the keyboard, giving the Enter key a firm smack with his furry foot as he leaps out of your way.

“Cloning sequence initialised,” says the computerised voice.

“No!” you cry. “No, no, no, no!”

Your shaking fingers bash uselessly at the keys, trying to find a way to stop the sequence, but you know it’s futile - there’s nothing you can do at this point.

“Shit. Shitshitshit.”

You watch as the cloud of neon green gas begins to curl around Irish’s body and you run back to the cylinder, crouching down as he disappears beneath the lurid fog.

“Irish! Irish, wake up! Irish!” you shout, still banging on the Perspex as his bodily form sinks beneath the gas.

“Oh God, ohgodohgod,” you say in quiet panic, pressing your palms and forehead to the tube as it fills until you can no longer make out his form beneath the fog. After what feels like an age, you hear the familiar sound of the vent springing to life, sucking the neon mist off his body.

“Subject discharged,” says the computer as the door swings open.

You crawl inside, choking on the remaining gas as you lean over his crumpled, lifeless form.

“Irish, Irish, baby, wake up,” you plead, cradling his head and slapping him on the cheeks.

His pretty green eyes blink open and he grimaces as he comes to, a hand seeking out the back of his skull.

“Ow. Fuck, my head!” he manages, wincing.

“Oh, thank God. I thought you were dead.”

“No, I’m fine,” he says, struggling to sit up. “Just a bump on the head is all, I’ll live.”

You reach around his head to feel for lumps inside his soft curly hair. He’s not bleeding, but he’s clearly dazed.

“Maybe we should take you to the emergency room, just in case. You could have a concussion,” you say, fussing over him.

“No, seriously, I’m fine, I’m fi-”

“Cloning sequence complete,” interrupts the computer, the synthetic voice bouncing around the lab.

He freezes and looks at you, his eyes wide.

“It only works on rabbits, right?” he asks.

You shake your head, terror visible in your face. “We’ve only ever tested it on rabbits,” you squeak, unable to hide the panic in your voice.

You lift him to his feet and emerge from the cylinder just as the door to the other tube rolls open, releasing a light gasp of green gas into the lab.

You both stand there, your mouths open, as one long leg emerges from the vestibule, then another, followed by a slender figure. Your eyes take in the tall torso, the narrow hips, the slim waist, the small, perfectly formed breasts, the head of long, chocolate-coloured ringlets and then, finally, those unmistakable green eyes.

“Oh, fuck. Irish, what did we fucking do?”

Check back in this time next week for Part 2. And if you enjoyed this, please give it a little reblog. Go on, the button is right there… 😘😘

If you’ve been tagged it’s probably because you asked to be a long time ago. If you don’t wanna be tagged in future updates, just send me a DM: @iamsexytrash @pickledbeefwastaken @m0onlitmadness @blog-kyku-us @super-unpredictable98 @love-is-dirty-baby @maerenee930 @simplymesam99 @sheehaniphilia @rob-private @rina-cydonia @icarusklaus @nostalgiawings @orangepear18 @p0tat0nug @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssanjuniperoo @the-freckled-luba @motherofanimals @archivemysins @faceache111 @lezzy-4 @firstpersonnarrator @inspiremeandsetmefree @sands7 @granddeaneaglesports @hanatashii @one-dizzydreamer @itscarolsainz @septicrebel @zombiedixon89 @amanda-hotchner @spaceclone-mom @readersinflammation @jender123 @juicyj28 @badsext @bunybordelaux @vomkimmeren @shaneen828 @klausmikaelsonswolf @kittenqueen04 @itsophiebby @itsjustmylifeconfessions @mypsychoticlove @jizzmans-world @thislovelylife

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imyourbratzdoll · 3 months

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Can you do Robert Sheehan frenemies to lovers? Maybe they are co stars and shooting cherrybomb? Because that era was HOT

hi! I've never seen the film, so I hope you like it!

summary - you have an annoyingly attractive co-star and things get slightly heated in your trailer.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Why did you have to work with him? He annoyed you with his good looks and his stupidly attractive voice. You sit, sipping on your coffee as you watch the scene play out before you. A frown rests on your lips as in between cuts Robert would look over at you and wink. You scoff, standing and walking toward your trailer, you were going to wait inside until you had to do your scene.

You flop down onto the couch, sighing as you rub your face. “Why couldn’t I film with someone else? Why him?”

“Don’ know, love. But I’m sure glad I’m filmin’ with ya!” His Irish accent filled the room, you groaned and removed your hands from your face. It had been like this since the first day, you’d bicker and then act friendly, most of the bickering came from your side because if you didn’t, you’d end up falling for him and Robert loved to push your buttons. “Now why did ya leave? Was just getting to the good part of the scene!”

“Ugh, what are you doing here? Don’t you see that I’m trying to get away from you.” You stand, moving toward the tiny kitchen area and you lean against the counter, anything to put some space between you two. Your eyes roll and a huff escapes you when he moves closer, a smirk on his cute face.

“I’m here to see ya! You left so quickly, but I didn’ mind watching ya cute self walk away!” His eyes move up and down your body, continuing to smirk as your face flushes.

“Stop it. Now, you gotta go. I have to get ready for my scene and I can’t have you messing with my head.” You move forward, about to move around him when he stops you, arms caging you in and he leans down.

“How bout ya make me, sweetness.” You can feel his breath against your lips, his pretty eyes making you melt. “Hmm, I see how ya look at me. I bet ya won't’ stop me if I kiss ya, huh?” You whine as his lips brush against yours, pulling you in until he suddenly pulls back and backs away. “Welp, gotta go! See ya on set, love!”

What the hell just happened?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #anon reply #imyourbratzdollwork #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan #robert sheehan fanfiction #robert sheehan fanfic #robert sheehan fic #robert sheehan fluff #robert sheehan imagines #robert sheehan oneshot #robert sheehan one shot #robert sheehan angst #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan x fem!reader #robert sheehan x female reader

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sheehalloween · 2 years

Text

This is Sheehalloween…

Everybody make a scene/fic/gifset

Psst, Sheepeeps, remember last year when we brought you Sheehanksgiving, well this year we're back with something new...

✨ Introducing: Sheehalloween! ✨

What is it?

Nine whole days of spooky fun from October 23rd - 31st, featuring our favourite gorgeous Irish actor, Robert Sheehan. Once more hosted by your favourite neighborhood Sheefanatics, Salv (@salvador-daley) & joz (@seanfalco)!

The Prompts:

This time we're doing things a little differently and have chosen general prompts for each day that you can interpret and use in any way you like, or throw them out and do your own thing entirely, if you'd rather.

🔮 Day One: Seance

🔮 Day Two: Trick or Treat

🔮 Day Three: Scary Movie

🔮 Day Four: Reanimation

🔮 Day Five: Free Space

🔮 Day Six: Ghosts

🔮 Day Seven: Ouija

🔮 Day Eight: Possession

🔮 Day Nine: Magic

The Rules:

☛ This event is open to all creators: whether you’re an artist, a writer, a gif-maker or someone who carves sculptures out of mash potato. If you make fanworks relating to Rob and/or his characters, we want to see them. If you’ve never made a fanwork before, now is your chance! We welcome collabs, first-time artists, established writers, people from peripheral fandoms… this event is open to everyone.

☛ Please tag your work appropriately and hide any NSFW content behind a read more. If you are creating NSFW art, make sure adhere to tumblr's rules so your art won't get flagged.

☛ There is no word limit on fics, however, if your fic is longer than 500 words, please use a readmore so as not to clutter the dash.

☛ The only thing we ask is that you don’t submit noncon or underage content. If you are a minor, please do not submit NSFW content as it will not be shared.

☛ When posting your fan works, make sure to tag your work with #sheehalloween 2022 & also tag us here at @sheehalloween so we can share your works!

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badsext · 2 years

Text

Okay, this one is short and sweet. I might add more later. Big thank you to @salvador-daley for the fabulous gif! No content warnings 😊

After stumbling on his birth mother’s address in Reginalds’s study, Klaus takes the next Greyhound bus from New York to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He’s got the sultry vocals of Amy Winehouse stubbornly refusing to go to rehab playing in his headphones and an assortment of pills keeping the ghosts at bay.

The bus stop is a few miles away from the address on the tattered scrap of paper in his hand. He had spent most of the trip nervously folding it over and over. It is a wonder he can still read it. And there are no cabs out here in the boonies. He’ll have to hoof it through the gravel and tall grass in his strappy sandals.

A few minutes into his journey, he passes an Amish horse and buggy, and then another. He waves, but the driver doesn’t react. That’s strange. Aren't these guys supposed to be nice?

He shrugs it off and takes the gravel path to an Amish family farmhouse on what is presumably His Amish family’s farm. He is spotted by a bearded man wearing the same sober expression as the buggy driver, so Klaus gets right down to business. “Hello there. I was wondering if you could help me find Rachel…Rachel Hershberger?”

By now he is sweating. The sun is high in the sky. He cups one hand to shield his eyes and holds the other out for a handshake. “I’m Klaus. I’m her son.”

The bearded man looks him over. Another less bearded man wearing near identical clothing comes up behind him. They whisper to each other for a moment. They both look back at Klaus. The man sporting the longest beard finally turns back to shake Klaus’ hand. “Ezekiel. Follow me. I’ll take you to Rachel.”

The woman who answers the door has a baby on her hip.

“Mom?” Klaus extends both his arms for a hug.

“Excuse me. I don’t understand.” She looks confused.

“Sarah, get your sister, Rachel.”

“Aunt Sara!” Klaus smiles at her admiringly until Rachel approaches. His gaze turns to her. She has bright green eyes and curly brunette hair that stubbornly escapes her bonnet at the temples.

Ezekiel introduces Klaus. “This man says he’s your son.”

Rachel pauses for just a second, the. gently cups his cheek in her hand. She gasps. “It is you!” She has none of the cynicism of the men. The miracle baby that nearly had her shunned some 20 years ago had suddenly returned.

“Do you think I could stay here and…you know…try it out?” Klaus grabs the straw hat hanging on the wall by the door and pops it on his head. “See? I blend right in!”

Rachel looks to Ezekiel and the others for approval. Ezekiel nods soberly. “Get him some shoes. There’s work to be done.”

“Thanks, EEzee. You won’t regret this!” Klaus assures him with a gentle slap on the back.

Rachel shakes her head at Klaus. “Don’t..don’t do that.” She scolds him with a faint, almost undetectable little smile.

Klaus attempts the men’s chores, tilling the soil, fixing fences and harvesting corn. But they send him away on an errand because he won’t shut up. He comments on everything. The fresh air. The pastoral views…And “Wow, what a workout. You guys must be ripped under all those modest clothes!”

Klaus takes so long on his errand, the men assume he’s gone home. When he returns, he goes instead into the kitchen with the women. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Rachel whispers a warning that goes gleefully unheaded.

The women are making apple butter, fresh bread, schnitzel, dumplings, meatloaf, and pork pot pie. Klaus sneaks a taste of each one, making exaggerated moaning sounds. “Sinful!” He declares. The aunties pretend to be offended, while secretly enjoying what they assume must be a compliment.

“Stop snacking,” Klaus. “You mustn't be seen here when there’s work to be done.”

“But I am working. See?” He gestures to the bowl of string beans he’s been idly snapping into a variety of different lengths. Rachel sighs. “Perhaps you could go care for the animals.”

@salvador-daley @super-unpredictable98 @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

#klaus hargreeves #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #robert sheehan #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus tua #tua klaus #robert sheehan fanfic

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klaushargreevesluvr · 1 month

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i’d let robert sheehan do unspeakable things to me and that’s putting it lightly. he’s the perfect man

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #robert sheehan #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #klaus x reader #five x reader #diego hargreaves x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 #misfits

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storiesforallfandoms · 10 months

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rescue mission ~ klaus hargreeves;umbrella academy

word count: 3646

request?: yes!

@werewolfbanshee-love “Awesome, so since I started today with the show can I ask for Y/N to be Klaus’s support and saves him from Cha-Cha and Hazel just being a badass”

description: in which the powerless human takes down two time commission agents on her own

pairing: klaus hargreeves x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, i use the name “vanya” in this one just because it takes place in season one

masterlist (one, two, three)

A family full of superheroes, and those fuckers had no idea that one of their brothers was missing. Too wrapped up in their own bullshit to care about anything else. All those superheroes, and it took a goddamn regular human to track down and save a missing Klaus.

I had been in Klaus’ room, waiting for him to come back, when I heard gunshots downstairs. I quickly dropped to the floor and got under his bed for protection. I was not super human, so there was absolutely zero way I was getting involved with whatever was happening. I hoped Klaus also wasn’t getting involved. I listened to the sound of footsteps running past the room, things crashing downstairs, and more gunshots. My breathing became heavier with panic with every passing sound.

I waited a few seconds after the noises went quiet, waiting for any signs of Klaus, or anyone for that matter, coming to check on me. When nothing happened, I hesitantly crawled out from under the bed. I heard slamming doors outside and looked out just in time to see two figures getting into a black car and drive away from the Hargreeves residence. Neither figure looked like any of the Hargreeves siblings, so I took this to mean that the danger had left.

I slowly opened Klaus’ bedroom door and started down the hallway. There was bullet holes in the walls and pictures knocked down. The bathroom door was still open, so I peaked inside but found it empty. There were signs that Klaus had been in there, but none as to where he had gone after his bath.

I could hear voices as I descended the stairs. The giant chandelier from the foyer was now laying shattered in the middle of the floor. An uneasy feeling started to grow in my stomach.

I found Diego, Allison, and Vanya in the living room.

“Hey,” I said, breaking up their conversation. “Where’s Klaus?”

“Who cares?” Diego retorted.

“Uncalled for, Diego,” Allison muttered. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, glaring at Diego before turning to walk away. It was clear I was getting no help from them.

I searched the entire Hargreeves estate to no avail. I knew there was no way Klaus would leave without telling me. He could be a space case sometimes, but he usually remembered to tell me things. Also, he was in the bath. How would he just get out of there and leave during all that commotion without coming to put clothes on? I’d know if he left, I was sure of it.

A thought popped into my head then: the car I had seen drive away. I rushed to Reginald’s office, the one place in the whole house I knew would have a pen and paper. I quickly wrote down the details of the car before I could forget, including the license plate number.

There has to be a way I can find this car, I thought.

But how?

Driving around town was a no go. It was too big of a town, too many places they could’ve gone or still be going to. It would take me hours, even days. Klaus might not have that long.

There was one option I could try.

I ran back down over the stairs just in time to catch Diego leaving. “Wait! Diego, wait, I need a favor.”

He paused at the door and turned to face me. “What’s in it for me?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, are you 12?”

“No, just a man who knows an opportunity when he sees it.”

“Do me this favor or I get Luther to super strength kick you in the nuts.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He looked at me, as if trying to decide whether to call my bluff or not. After a few moments, he signed and said, “What do you want?”

“I need you to call your cop girlfriend.”

“Patch? Why?”

I couldn’t tell him my suspicions about Klaus’ disappearance. He’d never believe me. I had only properly met Klaus’ siblings a few days earlier, but I could already tell they thought very lowly of him. They would just brush off his sudden disappearance as him going off on a bender and not worry about it.

“I just need her help,” I responded instead. “Please Diego.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Patch’s number. I thanked him profusely as I took his phone. It rang for a short while before Patch answered, “Diego, what do you w - ”

“Patch!” I cut her off. “Detective Patch, this is actually (Y/N), Diego’s brother’s girlfriend. I asked him to call you for me.”

“Oh, I remember you. You’re Klaus’ girlfriend. A little too stable for a guy like him.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Listen, I need a favor. I know this is a long shot because you don’t know me, but I needed a plate run on a car to try to find it. I assume cops can do that. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s important. I - ” I looked over at Diego, who was looking down at his knives and clearly pretending he wasn’t listening. I lowered my voice to say, “I think something happened to Klaus.”

“If it’s something so serious you’re asking for police involvement, you may just want to file a report with the police.”

“No offence, but I don’t completely trust the cops to find him in time. I don’t even trust Klaus’ siblings and they have powers. Look, all I’m asking is any info you can find on this car, that’s it. Please Patch.”

There was a moment of silence. I expected her to say no. It was a big ask for her to do this for someone she didn’t even know. As far as I could tell, she didn’t even like Diego all that much right now. But I needed her to say yes. If she didn’t, I would already be at a severe disadvantage in finding Klaus before it was too late.

“Okay,” she said, finally. “Give me the information.”

I thanked her and gave her the details I had on the car. I also gave her my phone number so she’d call me and not Diego. I thanked Diego again as I gave him his phone back and went back to Klaus’ room to wait. There wasn’t much I could do until Patch got back to me about the car. If she couldn’t find any details about the car, I’d definitely be shit out of luck. I’d never find Klaus.

I paced up and down Klaus’ room. I kept looking out the window, as if the car would return and bring Klaus back safely. I could hear his siblings moving around the house, but not once coming to see where Klaus was. I knew Diego didn’t give a shit, but I thought maybe Allison or Vanya cared enough about their brother to be concerned when I said he was missing. Wishful thinking, I guess.

When my phone rang, I practically jumped out of my skin. I answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“I got your car,” came Patch’s voice. “And a location.”

Roughly 20 minutes later, I was parked outside of a motel. The car wasn’t in the parking lot, but Patch swore this was the last known location. It was dark and my body was starting to realize it hadn’t slept in well over 12 hours. But I pushed through it. I needed to find Klaus. I needed him to be alive and safe.

The car finally pulled into the lot nearly an hour later. All sleep immediately left my body as I sat up and watched intently. The car parked and a man and woman got out. They didn’t go around to the back of the car to take a third person out, so I could only assume that Klaus was already inside their room. I got out of my car, grabbing the crowbar I had taken as a weapon before starting to follow Klaus’ captors at a safe distance. They turned a corner and I paused to let them get far enough away to keep myself safe. When I peaked around the corner, they had gone into one of the rooms.

I silently crept down the block of rooms. There was only one room with the lights on, so it was easy to find where the assailants were. I peaked through the thin white curtains to see a figure tied to a chair between the two beds.

Klaus.

I could see his two captors stood facing him, side on to where I was but not able to see me. I couldn’t make out much as the curtains still blocked a lot of my vision.

I hadn’t thought this far ahead. What was the next step here? How did I get them out of the room long enough for me to save Klaus? Or how did I knock them out long enough?

They wouldn’t just answer the door if I knocked, would they?

I took the chance and knocked at the door. “Housekeeping!”

There was silence. I knew it was a long shot, but I had no other plan, and I wasn’t sure how much time I had.

I tried again, knocking three times and repeating, “Housekeeping!”

My heart jumped when I heard the doorknob turn and the door suddenly opened. A tall man with brown hair and a beard looked down at me. Realizing that I wasn’t housekeeping, he looked at me in confusion.

I smiled. “Hello.”

And then I swung my crowbar.

It connected with the side of his head, knocking him to the door. I was surprised by how little effort it took to take him down. Now, where’s the other one?

My question was quickly answered by the sound of gunshots. I dove behind the nearest bed as the woman stepped out of the bathroom, now wearing a mask and shooting at me as I fell to the ground. I should’ve known they’d have guns. I heard the gunshots when I was at the Hargreeves’ place. And yet I came with a crowbar in hand, something that I needed to be very close to the attackers in order to use.

Stupid!

I looked over to where the man was laying unconscious. His white button up shirt was tucked into his pants, revealing his own holster with the gun. I knew it was a bad idea, but I needed to get that gun. At least to try and defend myself from this lady attacker.

I inched forward slowly. She had stopped shooting at me, so I knew she was just waiting for me to come out from my hiding spot. I had a short period of time to try and grab the gun and dive back to where I was hiding before her bullets finally made connections with my body. I had to grab something to cover me, or at least that would hopefully cover me, long enough for me to get the gun.

I looked up to see the a large briefcase on the table behind me. It was a long shot, I’m pretty sure bullets can go through briefcases, but it was all that I had. I turned so my feet were facing towards the table and kicked it. The briefcase wobbled slightly, but didn’t move.

“Hey!” called the female attacker. “What are you doing?!”

I kicked the table again and the briefcase fell over, the handle facing outwards. I reached up and grabbed it, pulling it down just in time for another bullet to whiz past my hand.

“You’re not a very good shot,” I taunted.

I held the briefcase in front of my body as I scurried out from behind the bed towards the unconscious man. I heard more gunshots and, surprisingly, they ricocheted off the briefcase.

This thing must be maid of titanium or something. It can’t be a normal briefcase.

I fumbled with the latch on his holster as another shot ran out, bouncing off the briefcase again. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding with adrenaline. I needed to get this thing off. I needed this to be a fair fight. When the latch finally popped free, I breathed a sigh of relief before taking the gun and diving back behind the bed, taking the briefcase with me. I had a feeling it was something important, and maybe I could exchange it for Klaus.

“Listen!” I called. “I’ve never dealt with all this shooting and kidnapping shit before. I’m not part of the Umbrella Academy, I don’t have powers, I’m just a normal person. I came here because I think you took my boyfriend and I want him back. Whatever you have against the Umbrella Academy I can assure you has nothing to do with Klaus. If you’d just give him up to me, I’ll give you back your briefcase and we’ll leave. I promise you we won’t interfere with whatever you have going on. Truthfully, I don’t even really like Klaus’ siblings right now, so if you want to go after them I won’t be standing in your way.”

There was silence. I was starting to get sick of this type of silence. Either agree or disagree with what I was saying. It wasn’t that deep to have to think about it for this long about my proposition.

Another gunshot rang out, so I took that as a no.

My hands were still shaking as I popped up from behind the bed and started blindly shooting. I had never handled a gun before. They were loud and extremely scary. I knew there was very little chance I would actually hit her, but maybe if I was lucky I’d get a good shot in and I could just take Klaus and run.

It didn’t take long for me to use up all of my bullets. I looked up to see that she was nowhere to be seen. I started to rise to my feet, hoping I had hit her and she was laying on the ground. But, of course, no such luck. The moment I stood, she came out of the bathroom again, gun lifted and aimed at me. My quick instincts were suddenly gone as I stared down the barrel of the gun that would undoubtably kill me. I wondered if Klaus’ siblings would find him before he joined me in my fate. I wondered if Diego would feel guilty for not listening to me when I asked him about Klaus being missing. If any of them would even feel somewhat remorseful for not saving me or Klaus in time.

Instead of another shot ringing out, though, the gun just clicked. Both of us looked at each other - well, I looked at her, her mask looked at me - dumbfounded. She tried again and got the same results. A laughed bubbled in my throat and escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Her gun had ran out of bullets, too.

She dropped the gun and lunged over the two beds towards me. She took my off guard long enough to knock me to the ground. I tried to swing at her, but her mask was just as hard as the briefcase was. I howled in pain as my fist collided with the mask for the first time, definitely shattering the bones in my hand. She seemed delighted by the fact that I was caught off guard again and punched me in the face. Pain exploded from my nose causing tears to well up into my eyes.

My crowbar was laying just inches away from me, next to the briefcase. Either one of those things would definitely work in this situation, but I had to hit her just right on the back of her head. It was obvious hitting the mask would only protect her. And I had to do it while she least expected it. If she knew what my plan was, she’d stop me in an instant and probably take me out with her own bare hands.

I stretched an arm out as she hit me again. The pain was almost unbearable. I’d have to get my nose and my hand looked at by a doctor I was sure, but for now I had to focus on surviving this attack and saving Klaus. I felt my fingers brush against one of the two potential weapons and closed them around it. I wasn’t sure which one I had grabbed, but it didn’t matter to me now. I grit my teeth against the pain and hissed out, “You should’ve taken my deal.”

I swung and the briefcase collided with the back of her head. She fell off of me, limp on the ground. I looked down at her to see blood forming on the back of her head. Knowing she was down for the count, I quickly stood and looked for where they could’ve hidden Klaus. It didn’t take long, though, as the silence finally fell over the room made it easier to hear the sound of muffled yelling coming from the closet. When I threw the doors open, I found Klaus, wrapped only in a towel and tied to the chair. His face was just as blood as mine was.

I nearly sobbed as I reached to take the tape off of his mouth.

“You found me,” he breathed.

“I wasn’t giving up until I did,” I said. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before they wake up.”

I undid his bindings and helped him to his feet. We started out of the room, but I paused to take my crowbar and the briefcase. I figured I could use some leverage if these assholes tried to come after us again.

We scurried across the parking lot to my car. My hand and nose were throbbing. I cradled my hand on my lap and drove with the other towards my house. I felt it was a better option than going back to the Hargreeves’ place. I didn’t want his siblings to see both of us all beat up and realize I had been right about Klaus’ disappearance. Not yet, anyways. I’d save the gloating for later.

When we got back to my place, I ran the shower for Klaus so he could clean himself up. I wrapped my hand in gauze from my first aid kit and held an icepack to my nose until the swelling went down. I then cleaned the blood from my face, careful not to accidentally bump my nose. I’d need to seek medical attention, but that was for a later time.

Klaus had clothes at my place, so I laid them out on my bed for him. Poor thing had been in just a towel for who knows how long.

When he came into my room, he paused at the door to look over me. He winced as he looked at my wrapped up hand. “Did they hurt you bad?”

“Well, this was me actually,” I said. “Those fucking masks were harder than I expected them to be. But she did break my nose. I’ll go see a doctor tomorrow. Did they hurt you bad?”

“No broken bones.” He took the clothes from my bed and changed into them. “I can’t believe you risked your life for me like that.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? They took you and they were hurting you.”

“I have superhuman siblings, though.”

I shook my head. “Too wrapped up in themselves to even listen to me. There was no other choice than for me to come find you myself.”

Klaus climbed into bed next to me. I rolled onto my side to face him, and he did the same, propping himself up on his elbow as he did so.

“I can’t believe you knocked both of them out on your own,” he said. “I heard all that gunfire and thought for sure you were dead.”

“Well, the guy wasn’t too hard to take down. He answered the door with no mask on, so I just hit him with the crowbar I brought with me. The woman put up more of a fight. I was lucky she was dumb enough to empty her gun while trying to shoot me or else I likely would’ve been a goner.”

He looked over me again. There was a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. It was like a combination of things. Love was the one thing I was sure I was seeing.

“I can’t believe you came for me,” he said again.

I smiled and leaned closer to him. “I love you, Klaus. I’d do anything to make sure you were safe. That includes risking my life to go after two kidnappers with guns and titanium masks on my own to save you from them.”

Klaus smiled. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He pulled me the rest of the way forward, closing the gap between us to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around him, leaning forward into the kiss so the two of us were laying down. I winced briefly as my nose brushed against his, sending a slight pain through my face.

“Sorry,” Klaus said, his voice soft. “You need to get that fixed. I can’t just not kiss you.”

I giggled. “Tomorrow, I promise. We need to rest now, though. We both had quite the night.”

As if finally realizing how tired he was, Klaus yawned and nodded. I settled into the bed next to him, cuddling into his chest. I could hear his heart beating as he drifted off to sleep. I used it as a reminder that he was there, that I had saved him, as my adrenaline finally wore off and I finally fell asleep.

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #Robert Sheehan #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan x reader #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy imagine #tua #netflix #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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nightmare-niko · 2 months

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Yall want Klaus Hargreeves fanfiction? I want Klaus Hargreeves fanfiction…

#friends #mutuals #art #wattpad #writing #original story #fanfic #fantasy #moodboard #coriolanus snow #klaus hargreeves #the umbrella academy #robert sheehan #umbrella academy #number four #tua s4 #tua #gerard way #my chemical romance

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ded-and-gonne · 1 year

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Thank you, Sheehab

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sincerelyverena · 4 months

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. . . FANDOMS

› saltburn › jacob elordi › my chemical romance › the umbrella academy › aidan gallagher › barry keoghan

⇀ SALTBURN · oliver quick, felix catton...

req me for anything!

dividers made by @cafekitsune <33

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super-unpredictable98 · 10 months

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Midnight Strikes (Robert Sheehan RPF)

Word Count: 1,1 k

Warning: strong language

a/n: Just letting everyone who left me a request know, I'm working on them and thank you so much for all the lovely ideas <3

(Masterlist)

I can't wait to get out of here, it's so fuckin hot!

Your boyfriend texted around seven. It was your one year anniversary, but he had to work. Of course you understood, his job was demanding, but he loved it and so did you. Robert was meant to be home by eight, so you had everything ready for the celebration.

There was a lasagna ready to go in the oven, homemade garlic bread, and cake for dessert. You prepared the bathroom with candles and a bath bomb so he could relax after dinner, the whole flat was spotless and you picked his favorite dress to wear.

Twenty minutes passed, you put your romantic dish in the oven and set a timer before heading to the bedroom to get ready. The dress was blue and looked like something Donna would wear in Mamma Mia, very light and flowy. The makeup you chose was very simple and discreet, and the hair was also not too extravagant. You even got a new set of lingerie matching the dress for the occasion.

Rob's gift was waiting for him on the sofa, a few books he'd been talking about in the last few months.

You waited until the lasagna was done and turned the oven off, leaving it in there so it would be nice and warm. You checked if the champagne you got for the celebration was chilled and set the table.

When it was all prepared, you looked at the time on your phone, it was 8:05. You grinned in anticipation, deciding where you wanted to sit to wait for your boyfriend who should be coming through the door very soon.

Unfortunately, that's not how it went... 8:05 turned into 8:45, turned into 9:20, turned into 10:00. By then the lasagna was for sure cold and it wasn't even time for dinner anymore.

You sent texts during this time, but there was no response, which elicited a mix of worry and anger stirring in your chest, adding to the hunger that was pretty bad already.

Finally, at 10:25 the door opened and Rob walked in looking like hell. He was sweaty (more than usual), his hair was messy, there was eyeliner smeared around his eyes and he grunted as he usually did when his back was in pain.

"So nice of you to join..." you said, looking up from your book

"Shit, I knew I was late but I didn't know it was that bad," he checked his phone. "I didn't even see it, I just ran as fast as I could when they said I could go home, the tube was packed."

"There's bath stuff in the bathroom, but the candles are probably all melted by now," you folded your arms, absolutely furious even if you knew it wasn't his fault.

Robert left his shoes by the door, walked up to the couch, and sat on the floor in front of you. He had that puppy look on his face, but didn't talk at first, knowing you probably had more to say.

"I worked on this shit all day for us to have a nice time and celebrate, by the time you're done with your shower and everything else we'll have an hour left in our anniversary at best!" Your voice cracked as you spilled the words. "That isn't fair, I know it was work and you didn't have a choice, I'm just frustrated! I already have to share you with the world, I can't even get a proper anniversary dinner."

He listened quietly as you let out your anger and on your own arrived to the conclusion that there was nothing he could've done to make things different if he wanted to keep his job. He then made sure you were done before taking your hands in his and kissing each knuckle.

"I understand how frustrating that is, I'm sorry things didn't work out."

"I know... I am too," you sighed, seeing him so calm kinda forced you to calm down as well, it was quite nice actually.

"If you wanna celebrate another day with something different, I get it. But if you'd like to try, I can shower really quickly and we can have our dinner. Tomorrow I have the day off and I'm not leaving your side. I'll even hold your hand as you go to the toilet."

You laughed, he just knew how to de-escalate the situation. He wasn't always like that, but the talent to make you no longer mad was definitely there.

Robert took a shower and changed into something nice, not a suit, but nice by his hippie standards. He even put on a scarf and fixed his hair to look just the way you like it.

"You look so handsome," you smiled, holding out the gift box for him. "I hope you like it."

He opened it and his eyes lit up. "Thank you, y/n! So comforting to know you're listening when I'm rambling about books and movies and shit," he chuckled. "Now it's my turn."

Rob opened his bag by the door and pulled out a plastic bag, not a very promising wrapping job, but when you opened it, you forgot all about that. Inside there was the white and blue coat Klaus wears for season two of Umbrella Academy. Every detail was perfect, even the embroidery work.

"Robbie! This is so beautiful, I can't believe you did this."

"You always mention how much you love these outfits so I had a replica made in your size," he grinned proudly. "I was between this and the black furry one from season one, but I'll get that one for your birthday."

You pulled him into a fierce hug, he really put so much care into it, he certainly looked forward to this night as much as you did. Suddenly, the time didn't matter anymore, all that mattered was that he was there.

"Thanks for being understanding today," Rob murmured, taking your hand as he happily ate his dinner. He was clearly starved from waiting so long.

"It wasn't your fault, don't worry about it."

"Hey, can I tell you a secret?" He asked with a little smirk.

"What?" You chuckled, half expecting some joke or gag, but he just took your hand and brought it to his lips again.

"It was past midnight when I asked you to be my girlfriend."

"What? No it wasn't!" You gasped.

He nodded as he chewed, completely sure of what he was saying. "I'm serious, my bedside clock was wrong, I remember cause I had to change it after I was late for work the next day. So technically, it's still our anniversary."

"Oh... happy anniversary then."

"Happy anniversary, love."

Tag List: @salvador-daley @seanfalco @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @badsext

#rpf #rpf fanfic #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan fanfic #fanfic #robert sheehan rpf #one shot

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salvador-daley · 1 year

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Clone | Part 2

Robert Sheehan x Reader x Female!Robert Sheehan

A/N: Oops - forgot to post this earlier in the week. Forgive me, I am old and senile.

CW: No filth, just some very intense flirting. Bisexual awakenings akimbo. But the next instalment? Pure wall-to-wall smut. 🍑🍆

Words: 5.5k

IRISH STEPS forward and so does she. His mouth falls open and so does hers. He reaches out to touch her and she reaches out to touch him. Their fingertips meet in the middle and he tilts his head in awed fascination. Her head tilts in the opposite direction, but instead of looking back at Irish, her eyes meet yours.

“Aren’t you guys gonna say something?” the woman asks.

“Oh my God, she talks!” cries Irish, leaping backwards with a squeal.

“Of course I talk,” she says in the same Irish accent as his, looking a little offended. She gazes around the room, taking in the long lab benches, the cages filled with small animals, the woman in the long white lab coat, the naked man in front of her. “Who are you? Where the hell am I?”

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” you say, trying to sound authoritative and calm. “We can explain everything.”

“Can we?” Irish squeaks in your ear, staring at you now with a look of blind panic.

“Look, just fucking calm down, okay?” you hiss at him. “You’ll freak her out. And put some fucking pants on.”

“Pants… pants…” he mutters, searching the floor for his discarded clothes. He manages to find his underwear and stumbles into them.

You step towards her with your hands out, as if approaching a wild animal. “Do you feel ok? Are you hurt?” you ask the woman, whose truly striking resemblance to your boyfriend is all the more apparent the closer you get.

“I feel fine,” the woman says with a shrug, fingering the tube she just stepped out of and taking in the rest of her surroundings.

“She seems very chill for someone who was just magicked into existence,” Irish whispers.

You nod. She’s certainly the calmest person in the room at this moment. Her whole demeanour is one of zen stillness and quiet curiosity, despite being thrust into being just a few seconds ago.

“W-what’s your name?” you ask.

She thinks for a second, her brow furrowing in an uncanny way.

“I-I don’t think I have one,” she says, approaching the desk now and proffering her fingers for one of the rabbits to sniff.

“We should give her a name,” says Irish into your ear, still cowering behind you.

“We can’t name her, we’re not… we’re not qualified!” you say in a hushed voice.

“Well, we created her,” he says, insistent. He thinks for a second. “I think she looks like a Robin.”

“Robin?” you repeat.

“Ooh, that’s a nice name,” she says, apparently listening the whole time.

“See, she likes it,” says Irish.

“Robin it is, then,” you say with resignation. “Robin, sweetheart, we’re going to explain everything, okay? But first, we have got to get you out of here.”

Irish grabs you by the shoulder. “Get her out of here? You want to take her with us? Shouldn’t we call someone? Isn’t this kidnapping?” he hisses at you.

You turn to him and level your gaze at him. “Look, she can’t stay here, okay? And we can’t call anyone, I’ll be fired. And they’ll do all sorts of experiments on her and shit. We’ve got to get her out of here, right now. Understand?”

He nods, realising the gravity of the situation. “Okay, okay, w-what do we do?” he asks.

You start to shimmy out of your lab coat, going into problem-solving mode. “There’s some flat shoes in my bag under the desk, go grab them.”

He darts under the desk while you attempt to dress your boyfriend’s naked double.

“Here, Robin, put this on,” you say, holding your lab coat out for her to slip into.

She inserts her arms into the sleeves, then turns so you can do it up, watching you with quiet fascination as your shaking fingers fumble with the buttons. She tips her head slightly as she observes you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Irish returns with the shoes and you help her to step into them.

“Hey,” she says once dressed, looking down at her body and smoothing the lab coat with her hands: “this is kinda sexy.”

Irish pauses and smiles, then looks at you: “See? Told you so.”

“Get dressed!” you growl at him.

“Right, right,” he says, searching the ground again for his scattered clothes.

“Okay, g’night Joe! See you on Monday!” you call out to the elderly security guard, hoping your voice sounds breezy but so breezy that it sounds like an invite to conversation.

“All finished for the night, are we?” Joe asks. To your disappointment, you see him moving around the reception desk, clearly looking for a chat.

“Yep, all done, gotta head on home,” you say, attempting to usher Irish and Robin through the building’s revolving door.

“Oh, I didn’t realise there were three of you here tonight? I was sure I only counted two,” says Joe, checking the sign-in sheet on his clipboard.

You realise now that despite Joe’s advanced age that it was ambitious to imagine you could smuggle out a 6ft tall adult woman wearing nothing but a lab coat.

“Nope, three of us,” says Irish, stepping in with his characteristic charm. “You’re going senile in your old age there, Joe.”

“Oh, I feel I would’ve remembered you,” says Joe, looking at Robin. He proffers a hand to introduce himself.

“How nice to meet you,” says Robin with a wide smile, shaking his hand.

“This is my friend,” you say, improvising now. “Professor, um, Doppelgänger.”

Irish shoots you a look that says: Doppelgänger, seriously?

“She’s been helping me with some research,” you add.

“A professor?” says Joe, impressed. “And what’s a smart, beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?” he chuckles.

Robin’s mouth falls open as if to reply.

“Oh Joe, you old flirt!” says Irish, slapping him on the back before Robin has a chance to answer. “Anyway, we better be off. The, er, professor has a train to catch,” he adds.

Irish bundles you both through the door before Joe can say another word.

“You guys are terrible liars,” says Robin once you get outside. “Even I could see through that, and I was literally born five minutes ago.”

You wake up late, the excitement of the previous day having expended all your energy. The soft sounds of a high-pitched tune spread through the flat on a gentle wave, rousing you from your slumber. There is no sign of Irish - he must have gone out. You rise from the bed and head into the living room. Robin is sat cross-legged on the pull-out bed. The wide neckline of the oversized T-shirt you gave her the previous night has slipped down over one of her shoulders, her curly hair haloed by the morning light as she plays happily on a penny whistle. She stops when she sees you, flashing you that familiar smile.

“You can play that?” you ask.

She shrugs: “I guess so.”

Even Irish can’t play it that well. You wonder for a second what else she can do, then you remember you’re being a bad host to your new houseguest.

“You must be starving,” you say, heading to the kitchen. She follows you and perches on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “What do you like?”

She shakes her head and waves her hand through the air.

“Of course,” you say, “you have no idea what you like because you’ve never eaten before.”

Following last night’s escape from the facility, Robin had taken the news that she was a clone created in a lab accident surprisingly well, you felt. She didn’t panic or freak out or try to call the cops.

“So I’m… you?” she had said, pointing to Irish. “And you’re me?

“Yes, well, technically you’re female me,” he had said, foundering in his attempts to explain.

“And how did you end up inside the machine?”

“Err…” Irish’s mouth had fallen open and his eyes had darted to you in a panic.

“You know what, we can go over all the details in the morning,” you had said, stepping in to spare him the embarrassment. “I’m sure you’re tired and it’s been a crazy night. A lot to take in.”

“That’s a great idea,” Irish had announced. “Let’s all get a good night’s sleep and we can talk some more in the morning.”

You open the fridge and peer inside. Amid all the chaos, you had forgotten to buy food. All you have is gin, milk and orange juice.

“Let’s start with some coffee,” shall we?

You head over to the coffee machine and begin to fiddle with it, becoming aware of her 6ft form looming over you as you work.

“You put the water in here,” you say, demonstrating, “and then you put this in here, and press this button, and then the coffee comes out here.”

She’s watching you, but you have no idea if she’s listening. Silently, she reaches out to brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and you catch yourself blushing.

You clear your throat. “Cereal? I have cereal.”

You grab a couple of bowls from the cupboard and begin to pour corn flakes into them.

Watching you, she rests one elbow against the counter, stretching her long body out in front of her. She seems just as comfortable in her own skin as Irish is, a quiet confidence exuding from every pore.

You fill the bowls with milk and press one of them into her hands. She looks at it, then at you.

“Spoon!” you remember. “You need a spoon.”

Her ass is blocking the cutlery drawer and you have to nudge her out of way with an awkward “‘scuse me” in order to reach inside, your hand brushing against the silky smooth skin of her hip.

“Here you go,” you say, plopping the spoon inside her bowl.

She gives you another blank look.

“See?” you say, raising your own bowl and lifting the spoon to your mouth, “like this.”

Although seemingly a little hesitant, she follows your lead and you both stand there for a moment staring at each other and eating corn flakes in silence until you hear the door opening and Irish clattering through it with handfuls of grocery bags.

“How are my two best girls this morning?” he sings, plonking his bags on the breakfast bar.

“Your girlfriend is teaching me how to eat cereal,” says Robin.

Suddenly feeling quite stupid. You turn to look at her now. “You already know how to eat cereal, don’t you?”

Robin shrugs an apology. “You were on a roll, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she replies. “I know how to do a lot of things.”

Before you can question her further, Irish grabs you and pulls you to one side, leaving Robin to eat her corn flakes in the kitchen.

“So, how’s it going?” he asks in a low whisper.

“Really bad, Irish!” you say. You try to keep your voice down but it comes out as a high-pitched squeal instead. “You left me all on my own and I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Calm down, okay? I went to get food, there’s only gin and orange juice in the fridge.”

You put your hands to your temples and squeeze. “I’m freaking out, man. I mean, how does this even work? Does she have your memories? She can play your penny whistle!”

“Really?” he says. “That’s interesting.”

Irish cranes his neck back into the kitchen area. “Hey Robin, how many siblings have you got?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, munching a mouthful of cereal. “I don’t think I have any.”

“How’d you get that accent?” he asks.

“What accent?” she replies, giving him a quizzical look.

He turns back to you: “She doesn’t have my memories.”

“This is so crazy. Your genetic double is eating corn flakes in my kitchen and I think I’m losing my mind,” you say, hyperventilating now.

“Look,” he says, holding you by the wrists. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? Let’s just get to know her a little bit.”

He leads you back towards the breakfast bar and you sit at the twin stools as Robin finishes off her breakfast.

“You still hungry, Robin?” asks Irish, reaching into one of the grocery bags. “Why don’t you try some of this, I just got it from the Japanese place down the road.”

He removes the lid from a small sushi platter and places it on the breakfast bar.

She selects a piece of nigiri and holds it up to her face.

“Go on,” he urges.

She pops the fishy morsel in her mouth and chews, her eyes widening as the novel mix of flavours ignite her tastebuds.

“Wow, that is amazing,” she says. “What is that?”

“Yellowtail,” he says. “My favourite. Here, have another. What’s mine is yours.” He pushes the platter closer to her and her fingers dance over it as she decides which piece to eat next.

“No offence,” she says to you, “but this is much better than cereal.”

“None taken,” you say, holding your hands up in defeat. “Okay, so we’ve established that you both like sushi. What next?”

“Ooh, I know!” says Irish, jumping down from the breakfast bar and running over to the bookcase in the living area. He returns with a book of collected poems and flicks through it until he finds what he’s looking for, passing the open book to Robin. “Have a read of this, tell me what you think.”

Robin scans the page for a few minutes, absentmindedly scratching her neck as she reads. You watch as Irish raises his hand to his own neck, floating his fingers over the same spot.

Eventually, she rests her hand on her chest with an awed expression. “That is beautiful,” she says.

“I know, it’s one of my favourites,” he says.

“So you’re both poetry fans,” you say. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you know how to read?”

“I don’t know, I just do,” says Robin. “It’s like muscle memory. I can do everything he can do.”

“Can you drive a car?” he asks.

“Yes, but not very well.”

“Bit hurtful. Can you ride a bike? Can you ride a horse?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Do you pee standing up?”

“Do you?” she returns, one eyebrow cocked.

“Fair play,” he says quietly.

You give him a look.

“What?” he says, “I like to read.”

You shake your head. “I think we’re getting way off track here,” you say. “Robin, do you have any questions for us?”

“Not really,” she says. “Although you never did tell me how you ended up in the cloning machine.”

Irish releases a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think we need to get into all that,” he says, bringing his hand down hard on his forearm to swat a mosquito. “Ah, you fucker!” he exclaims, inspecting the site for bites.

“Ow,” says Robin under her breath, rubbing her own arm in the same place.

“Guys, let me just try something,” you say, moving around the breakfast bar. You grab a cocktail stick from the kitchen drawer and return to your seat. “Stick your hand out,” you say to Irish. He puts his hand on the counter and you jab him on the tip of his thumb.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” he says, pulling his hand back and shooting you an accusing look.

At the same time, Robin shakes her hand in the air with a soft “Ah!” and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

“Ok, that’s interesting,” you say. “Let me try something else now.”

You move around to Robin and stand behind her.

“Can you lift your arms for me for a second, honey. It’s for science,” you ask.

“Sure thing,” she says, giving you a sideways smirk.

You tickle her under the arms, knowing that it’s one of his most sensitive spots.

Robin laughs and squeals, meanwhile he writhes in his seat, as if ghostly fingers were invading his armpits.

“Ah-ah! Stop! What are you doing to me?” he screeches.

“Well, that proves it. You two have some kind of weird connection,” you say, releasing Robin and returning to your seat. “It’s like a sensory telepathy or something. She feels what you feel, and vice versa.”

His brow knits in confusion, his mouth gaping. Then his expression changes and his eyebrow curls towards the ceiling as a realisation dawns on him.

“Well, that could be fun,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes now.

“I’m depending on you not to abuse that,” says Robin, extending a finger at him and wagging it in his face.

“Well, I could say the same thing to you,” he says, turning defensive.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Robin says. “Try not to stub your toe or anything while I’m gone.”

She pats you on the shoulder as she leaves, allowing her fingers to linger on your skin for a split-second too long. The gesture doesn’t escape Irish’s attention and he crosses his brow, watching her with a hint of suspicion as she leaves. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but you interrupt his thoughts before he can articulate them.

“Irish!” you hiss at him, grabbing his attention. “Now what do we do?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Maybe we should take her out, you know, let her see some of the city.”

You look at him with a baffled expression. How is he approaching this whole thing so casually? Did that bump on his head shake some of his screws loose?

“Have you lost your mind?” you say, your voice pitching higher. “We can’t wander around town with your female clone like she’s some kind of visiting relative. We’re not taking her anywhere, we are staying right here until we figure this out.”

“Why not?” he says, leaning in closer to you. “Look, she’s 34 years old and she hasn’t experienced anything of the world. We can’t keep her cooped up in here forever.”

“But she’s not 34, she’s only a day old,” you insist. “What if something happens to her, what if she gets hurt?”

“She’s 6ft tall and she can do everything I can do, right? That means she can throw a punch if necessary,” he replies.

You know deep down that he is right. Keeping her locked up in your flat indefinitely wouldn’t be feasible or fair. And Robin seems perfectly capable of looking after herself, if a little naive.

“It’s interesting actually,” he continues, “I wonder if she can act. I’ve always wanted to play Lady Macbeth on the stage...” His mind is wandering now, indulging in some egotistical fantasy in which both his faces are on the poster.

“Irish!” you snap, nudging him back to the present.

“Right, yeah, sorry. Come on, let’s just go out somewhere, show her a good time. Everything will be fine.” He rubs your thigh as he speaks. You can already feel yourself giving in to him, once again.

“Ooh, are we going out?” says Robin, returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” says Irish, pleading with you. “I think we could all use a little fun. What harm will it do?”

You look at Robin, those green eyes begging you to say yes, mirroring Irish’s expression. His persuasive powers are hard enough to resist at the best of times, let alone when there’s two of him.

You sigh. “Oh, fine,” you say, waving your hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Robin, my love,” says Irish, turning to her now, “how would you like to get drunk for the first time?”

Robin emerges from the en-suite bathroom in a towel, a couple of wet tendrils escaping from the nest of curls piled into a loose bun on top of her head, her wet skin glistening in the soft light of your bedroom. A light curl of steam follows her from the bathroom, wrapping around her slim ankles, caressing the tanned skin of her long legs. In her hands, a bottle of lotion, which she applies with care to her arms, allowing her fingers to drape over her skin with gentle, massaging strokes, skimming over her collarbone, the curves of her chest.

She tilts her head to meet your eyes. “Is everything all right?” she says.

In that moment, you realise you’ve been staring at her and you force yourself to snap out of it.

“Yes, er, yes. Let’s, erm, let’s find you something to wear,” you say, heading over to the closet. You throw open the doors and gesture at everything you own. “Just help yourself to whatever you want,” you say. “You are ever so tall, but I’m sure you’ll find something. We will get you some clothes of your own later, this is just for now.”

“Thank you,” she says, allowing the towel to drop to her feet and reaching up for the jeans on the top shelf. Her breast meets your eyeline and you avert your gaze, feeling the blood rush to your face. She certainly seems comfortable being naked, but then that shouldn’t surprise you - Irish seems to resist being fully clothed at every possible opportunity. You head over to your dressing table and finish applying your makeup, trying your best not to spy on her through the mirror.

“So, what kind of place do you want to go to? Somewhere lively with lots of people, or somewhere a little more chilled out and relaxed?” you say, attempting to make casual chit-chat despite the circumstances.

“Well, I don’t really have any frame of reference, so I trust you to make the call,” she says.

“There’s a great little place in town that does cocktails and finger foods. All of the drinks are named after famous… writers…” you trail off as your eyes fall on her approaching form.

She is dressed now and you take in her selection: a pair of extremely tight skinny jeans, in a shade of distressed dark grey with strategically placed rips up the legs, a tiny black bralette you can’t remember buying, over which she has chosen a sheer knitted top several sizes too big, the neckline draping loosely off one shoulder, the front tucked into her belt buckle.

“What’s the matter?” she says, observing your slack-jawed expression as she rolls up the sleeves. “Is this not ok?”

You blink hard and shake your head. “No, no, you look great. It’s just…” You bring your eyes up to meet hers and she shakes her curls loose from her bun. “You dress just like he does.”

“Ooh! These are pretty,” she says, fingering the box of bracelets and trinkets on your dressing table.

“Oh, those belong to Irish,” you say. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

She sits down on the bench next to you, rolling his beads and leather bangles up each arm.

“Well, he did say what’s his is mine, right?” She says, glancing at you with a smile. For a split second her eyes rest on your lips and you feel your heart pick up speed.

“Yes, yes. He did say that,” you laugh, trying and failing to hide your nerves. You go back to applying your lipstick under her watchful gaze. After a minute, you withdraw the product from your lips and offer it to her. “You want to borrow it?” you say.

She shakes her head. “That is something I definitely don’t know how to do,” she says with an apologetic smile. “You could do it for me?”

Of course, she can only do what Irish can do and he definitely can’t do makeup. The one time he tried for a Halloween party he looked like a melted Liza Minnelli waxwork.

“Okay, sure,” you reply.

You turn to face her and apply a thin coat to her lips. As you work, her sea-green eyes scan your face, the intensity of her gaze causing your hand to falter.

“Oops, hold on,” you say, correcting your mistake. For a brief second your eyes meet as your hand cups her face, your finger sliding under her bottom lip, your faces merely inches apart. Your pulse beats so loud and so hard that you worry she might hear it.

You pull your eyes away and clear your throat. “There we go, all done,” you say.

But she doesn’t move and neither do you. She holds you captivated in her gaze like a tractor beam.

“How are you girls getting on in here?” says Irish, sticking his head through the door. “You nearly ready? The cab is waiting downstairs.”

You jump as if caught red-handed. “Yes, all done here,” you say, a little too loud.

Robin rises and walks over to Irish, beginning to circle him. The two of them look each other up and down in the doorway like two wild cats sizing each other up.

She leans into his ear as she exits: “I’ll meet you two downstairs,” she says in a low voice. She pats him on the ass and gives you a wink as she leaves.

You hear the front door close behind her and throw Irish a shocked look.

“She is flirting with you!” you say, stating the obvious.

Irish scoffs: “From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s flirting with you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, bending down to put on your shoes, hiding your blushing face from his eyes.

“Well, think about it,” he says. “I’m attracted to you, therefore it makes sense that she’d be attracted to you, too.”

“Yeah?” you say, standing now and facing him in the doorway. “Well, why is she apparently attracted to you too?”

Irish gives you a shrug, a guilty smirk passing over his lips. You nudge him in the ribs.

“Because you’re so fucking in love with yourself!” you say, only half-teasing.

Irish laughs, ruffling a hand through his curly hair. You roll your eyes at him and fold your arms with an exaggerated sigh.

“Look, everything’s going to be fine,” he says, holding you by the shoulders. “Let’s just go get a drink.”

“You were getting a blow job?” asks Robin, incredulous.

“The door just sort of swung open and I smacked my head on the wall. I was knocked out cold for a good few minutes. And when I woke up, well, there you were,” he says.

Robin turns to you with an open-mouthed expression.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you say, cringing. “I wish we had a better story to tell you.”

Her face creases and she releases a high-pitched laugh. “You guys are hilarious,” she says. “Do you do that a lot, sex acts in public places?”

Irish shrugs, opening his mouth to speak.

You cut him off before he can embarrass you further. “No!” you insist. “No, we don’t.”

The more drinks that are consumed, the more the conversation veers towards sex. Irish is being his usual giddy self, telling stories and making crude jokes. Robin, meanwhile, is becoming increasingly tactile, clasping your shoulder as she laughs, pressing her long fingers into your arm as she fires questions at you.

Her displays of affection seem to be making him territorial. Every time her hand brushes against your leg, his follows. Or perhaps they are just mirroring each other; echoing each other’s movements and mannerisms. Either way, you are sitting between them and it’s starting to make you feel like a baby goat in the tiger enclosure.

The worst part, you decide, is how alike they are. Robin seems to agree with everything he says, especially his drunken ideas. Stay out longer? Great idea. More shots? Great idea. Go to another bar? Great idea. You are outnumbered. And now everything is starting to get hazy and wobbly, furry around the edges.

“So, do you both have jobs? I know you’re a scientist, but what do you do?” asks Robin, gesturing to your boyfriend.

“I’m an actor,” Irish replies, puffing out his chest. “Been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Wow, that sounds like so much fun,” says Robin, her eyes widening. “I’d love to do something like that.”

“Of course you would,” you mutter under your breath.

“Did I say something wrong,” asks Robin.

Her brow furrows in the middle. You can see Irish glaring at you out of the corner of your eye. He thinks you’re being rude. You instantly feel bad for being crabby.

“No, honey, I’m sorry,” you say, reaching forward to clasp her knee. “It’s just… well, you two are so damn similar! It’s actually kind of infuriating.”

They both laugh at the same time, then look at you: “What’s the matter, are you feeling left out?” they say in perfect unison.

Realising their thoughts have synched, they immediately turn and point at each other: “Oh, we both said the same thing!” they say at the same time.

“Ok, stop that, it’s freaking me the fuck out,” you interrupt, not wanting to find out how long they can do that for.

They share a look, synapses firing at the same time, cogs turning in synchronicity. The chemistry between them, between the three of you, is palpable and it terrifies you as much as it excites you.

Robin looks at you, then at him.

“You know what I think, Irish?” says Robin, leaning her head towards you. “I think your girlfriend…”

“Our girlfriend,” he corrects.

“Our girlfriend,” she says, walking her fingers up your thigh, “needs to lighten up.”

Robin’s face is centimetres away now. Her eyes, at first locked on yours, float down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze again. She tilts her head slightly and you feel your breath deepening, your heart beginning to race in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

She shushes you gently as she cups your face, allowing her thumb to trail over your cheekbone.

“Just relax,” she whispers, bringing her mouth down on yours.

As her plump lips part yours, you are struck by how similar the experience of kissing her is to kissing him - only softer, gentler. And as her tongue inches across the inside of your lips, you feel him join in, trailing a string of delicate kisses down the side of your face, down your neck.

They each wind an arm around your body and you suddenly remember that you are in a public place, giving the patrons of this bar something to stare at. And they are staring - you feel their eyes boring into you as two hands belonging to two separate owners begin to pass over your legs.

Robin lifts her head, moving to your neck, and her mouth is replaced with his.

“Guys,” you say in between deepening kisses, your voice trembling, “we have to get out of here.”

They lift their heads and look at each other, then at you. “Great idea,” they say together.

REBLOGS FEED THE WRITER - PLEASE FEED ME! 🥺🤲

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan character fic #klaus hargreeves #robert sheehan smut #Robert Sheehan rpf #robert sheehan fic #the umbrella academy #robert sheehan fanfic #tua #umbrella academy #rob sheehan #Robert Sheehan au #klaus umbrella academy #Rob Sheehan fic #robert sheehan fan #tua cast #tua Netflix #bisexual

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imyourbratzdoll · 3 months

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Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ♡

summary - you have an annoyingly attractive co-star and things get slightly heated in your trailer.

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#imyourbratzdollwork #imyourbratzdollmasterlist #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan #robert sheehan fanfiction #robert sheehan fanfic #robert sheehan fic #robert sheehan fluff #robert sheehan angst #robert sheehan imagines #robert sheehan oneshot #robert sheehan one shot #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan x fem!reader #robert sheehan x female reader

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sheehalloween · 2 years

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Go here for more information

#robert sheehan #sheehalloween 2022 #klaus Hargreeves #tua #umbrella academy #umbrella academy klaus #klaus umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan drabble #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan fanart #robert sheehan fic #robert sheehan fanfic #robert sheehan fan #robert sheehan gifs #robert sheehan gif #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan smut

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seanfalco · 2 years

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Hey! You’re a fantabulous writer could I request a smut with Nathan young where reader sends him some sexy pictures whilst their at community service which then develop’s into bathroom sex ? With Nathan just worshipping the reader?

aww thank you! you sure can 💚

All Yours

word count: 1.8k warnings/tags: f!reader, pwp, dirty photos, semi public sex, unprotected sex, breast play/worship, panty theft/panty sniffing, slight daddy kink, creampie, marking

“Where’s y/n?” Simon asked as he grabbed his trash picker from the storage closet, noticing your absence.

“Think she was still in th’locker room,” Kelly answered offhandedly, ambling back into the hallway, following Curtis and Alisha who had already headed off out the door.

“We’re just going to leave her?” Simon asked nervously, his round eyes seeking the locker room entrance.

Just then Nathan’s phone chimed an alert and he frowned, fishing it out of his jumpsuit pocket. As soon as he opened your message his eyes lit up, a delighted laugh bursting from his lips.

“What?” Simon demanded, trying to get a look at the tiny screen of Nathan’s phone.

“Nothin’!” Nathan yelped, quickly averting his phone so Simon couldn’t see the naughty photo you’d just sent him before clearing his throat to steady his voice.

“You go on, I’ll wait for y/n and we’ll catch you up.”

Simon looked reluctant, but finally nodded and briskly hurried off after the others. Nathan waited for a moment for Simon to disappear before checking the other hallway and heading for the locker room, whistling a cheerful tune as he went.

“I got your message, y’saucy minx!” he called as he entered, searching under the stalls to figure out which one you were in. “Now where are yeh? I wanna see th’goods with my own eyes.”

When he stopped in front of your hiding spot, you swung the stall door open slowly and motioned him inside. As soon as his eyes fell to your lacy bra and matching knickers, his brows rose and an incredulous grin spread across his face.

“All of this for me?” he asked in awe, his hands hovering over you as if he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you.

“Go on then,” you said, laughing as he eagerly cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing your clothed nipples, getting them to harden before your bra was even off.

While he was preoccupied with your breasts, you reached down to palm the noticeable bulge forming in his jumpsuit. At your caress, Nathan’s breath hitched and his hands froze.

“What’s the matter, Young? You’re usually a lot gobbier than this,” you teased, feeling his back hit the stall door behind him and he cleared his throat.

“Can’t help it, a sexy bird’s got me by th’balls. Besides, thought maybe our bodies could do th’talkin’,” he breathed, swallowing thickly as you massaged him through the fabric, a smirk on your face.

“I like the sound of that,” you replied, reaching up to grip the pull of his zipper and slowly unzipping his jumpsuit, your eyes flicking up to his.

The way he watched you, wetting his lips in anticipation, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, filled you with a heady sense of power and you gasped as the spell broke and he surged forward to claim your lips with an eager kiss. With a groan, his tongue invaded your mouth and you let him swap places, shuffling in an awkward circle in the cramped stall.

Without breaking the kiss, he shrugged out of the top half of his jumpsuit, letting it fall down past his waist, one of the sleeves nearly falling into the toilet, til he blindly reached behind him and let the seat fall shut.

Plopping down backwards, Nathan freed his cock and pulled you closer, letting his hands run up your body. “Wanna see th’girls,” he whined, impatiently pulling your bra down to let your tits spill out. Fondling them almost reverently, he pushed them together and buried his face in them, letting out a contented sigh as he burrowed deeper.

“I think I could stay like this forever, your tits are like heaven,” he murmured into your chest, his voice somewhat muffled.

Letting out an amused puff of air, you stroked his hair, running your fingers through his curls as he littered your tits with wet open mouthed kisses, working his way down to take a pert nipple into his mouth as you ground against his erection, the cotton fabric separating you quickly soaking through.

Pulling your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop, Nathan moaned as he switched sides, latching on insistently, his tongue swirling teasing circles around your raised bud. Heat filled you, swimming through your veins as your cunt throbbed needily, contracting impatiently around nothing, just begging to be filled.

“Nathan,” you whimpered, trying to satiate the unrelenting ache in your nethers, “as much as I’m enjoying this, I need you. I can’t stand it any longer,” you whined, pouting at him.

Extricating himself from your breasts, he flashed a cheeky grin, smugness radiating off him in waves. “Never had anyone beg me t’shag ‘em before,” he said, his eyes darkening with lust. “Wanna bounce on daddy’s cock?” he teased, bucking his hips upward against you, tearing a gasp from your lips.

“Yes, God yes!”

“Then get these knickers off and c’mere, y’minx.”

Getting up from Nathan’s lap in the small space was slightly awkward, but you managed to stand, peeling your now sopping knickers down and tossing them at Nathan’s head. Catching them, he brought the wad of damp fabric to his nose and took a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering.

“Didn’t know you were a panty sniffer,” you snorted, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not usually, but y’smell so good, it’s gettin’ me goin’,” he shrugged, stuffing your knickers into his pocket.

“Hey!” you yelped, but Nathan’s smug expression only deepened.

“Ah, ah, not gettin’ these back, little missy. At least not until yeh’ve creamed all over my cock!”

Without another word, he spun you and gave your bare ass a slap, watching the way your flesh jiggled and reddened before pulling you back down into his lap, holding the base of his length to guide it to your tight entrance.

As you sank down onto his cock, your breath hitched in time with his and you could feel his chest heave against your back as you wriggled your hips, taking him all in. For a moment neither of you moved, Nathan swallowing behind you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he breathed, his hands finding purchase on your hips, holding you in place while he composed himself, not wanting to cum too soon and look foolish.

Turning, you caught his eye and grinned. “Yeah, and this tight fanny’s all yours,” you purred, slowly rolling your hips.

Nathan’s lips stretched into a lopsided smirk, guiding your movements. “I like th’sound o’that,” he exclaimed, his hands once more traveling up your body to cover your exposed chest. “And these glorious tits, they’re mine too?” he asked, waiting for your answer, wanting to hear you say it.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “all yours, love.”

At your words, Nathan’s grin widened and he pinched at your nipple as he pressed his face to the nape of your neck. “God, I love you,” he breathed, still half in disbelief that you were his.

Pressing your hands to the walls on either side of you, you began to move more vigorously, anchoring yourself so you could bounce on his cock properly as he fondled you shamelessly. The low moan that echoed in your ear was positively sinful and filled you with heat while each warm breath that fanned across your neck sent fresh goosebumps pebbling your skin.

Losing yourself, you focused on the pleasure building and pooling in the pit of your stomach while Nathan used his hands to lavish you with attention, grabbing and fondling wherever he could as he kissed your exposed neck, sucking hard enough to leave a fresh bruise behind, marking you for the estate to see.

“Oh yeah, f-fuck yeah, y/n,” he groaned in your ear and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the needy moan that nearly spilled forth when his callused fingers found your throbbing clit. “Yeah, y’like that, do yeh?” he panted in your ear, a smugness leeching into his voice at your reaction.

“Yes,” you whined, grinding down against him, blindly seeking your pleasure, your release hovering just out of reach. “Yes, please, just like that. Don’t stop,” you pleaded, a wanton mewl catching in your throat. “I’m-I’m almost there,” you gasped, turning to look back at Nathan, your eyes frantically searching his.

“Then cum for me, beautiful!” he cried, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as his fingers moved faster against your slick bundle of nerves, desperately trying not to lose his rhythm while you writhed in his lap.

“That’s right, darlin’, cum for me. Cream all over daddy’s cock!” he urged, his voice breaking and you gasped as pleasure flooded you.

“Oh fuck!” you swore, your muscles tensing, but Nathan didn’t stop, jerkily thrusting up into you several more times, pushing himself deeper as he came, your walls constricting around him, milking him dry as he crushed you back against his chest.

Finally spent, he swallowed and lifted his face. Several of his curls were stuck to his brow and the sheen of sweat he’d worked up. “Well,” he panted, not too tired to flash you a grin, his lips brushing your temple sweetly, “I think that was th’best toilet shag I’ve ever had.”

At his words, a laugh bubbled from your chest and you relaxed back against him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Agreed,” you breathed, reaching up to caress his cheek. “You outdid yourself, Nathan.”

“Yeah, well, you did most of th’work and y’certainly know how t’get me going, y’saucy little thing. Who knew I was datin’ such a dirty little birdie,” he joked, helping you up.

“I think you’re forgetting somethin’,” you said, fixing your bra and turning to face Nathan as he zipped himself back up.

“Ohhh, y’mean these?” he asked, pulling your knickers out of his pocket.

“Yes, those,” you echoed, looking at them pointedly.

A shiteating grin spread across Nathan’s face as he glanced down at the garment in his hand. “Actually, I think I’ll keep ‘em a little longer. A little somethin’ t’commemorate th’moment,” he said, trying to keep a straight face before laughing at yours.

“And what am I s’posed to do? Go commando under my jumpsuit?” you demanded, your mouth falling open as Nathan stuffed them back into his pocket.

“Looks like it.”

“You’re such an ass!” you gasped, fetching your jumpsuit from where you’d slung it across the top of the stall. “And after I sent you those sexy photos and shagged your brains out!”

“Aw c’mon now, don’t be like that, love,” he giggled, wrapping his arms around you once you’d suited back up. “If you’re a good girl maybe I’ll give ‘em back tonight,” he mused cheekily, his lips hovering over yours.

“And what’s tonight?” you asked, unable to stay angry at him for long.

“Round two?” he responded hopefully, grinning against your lips as he opened the stall door and walked you backwards back out of the locker room.

By the time you caught up with the others, if it wasn’t the length of your absence that gave you away, the fresh hickey on your neck and your disheveled appearance surely did.

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley

#misfits #e4 misfits #misfits fanfic #nathan young #nathan young x reader #nathan young smut #nathan young imagines #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan #joz.fic #prompt request

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