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luveline · 4 months ago

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Just re-watched the prison Reid arc and whew! Can I request post prison Reid getting to meet his new baby for the first time with a civilian reader? Like he was arrested while reader was still pregnant and she gave birth right before he got out? Maybe have a Diana cameo cause I just love her🤭

ty for requesting! fem, 1.6k

“Do you want me to take him?”

You give Diana a grateful smile. “Is that okay?”

Diana is reedy like Spencer, tall and skinny, but strong, too. She treads the carpet in her moccasins and holds out her arms for the baby, shushing him softly as you pass him over. You’ve had to look after her these last few weeks in a way you weren’t prepared for, but she’s looked after you in turn.

She’s almost completely lucid today. The good news has its hooks in her.

You look out of the window again. The baby coughs in Diana’s arms, a clearing sound after feeding. If she’s gentle with him he’ll fall asleep before Spencer gets home. You aren’t sure what to do, let him sleep or wake him. What would Spencer want?

I want to come home, he’d said, choked up over the phone, so badly. I’m so sorry.

“Are you sure you won’t call him Walter?” Diana asks. “Spencer likes that one.”

“I’m sure, Diana. He liked Jasper, so…” You bite the tip of your tongue until it aches, refusing to cry again. “So I went with Jasper. I hope he doesn’t mind.”

That morning when Emily told you he was coming home, you cried like you’ve never, ever cried. So hard that the baby woke up in his cot across the room and cried with you.

You’d cried a lot after Spencer was arrested, and worse when he was imprisoned. You cried like a baby the day you went into labour because you knew you’d have to do it alone, when Spencer promised he’d be there with you, that you wouldn’t have to do any of the scary parts alone.

It didn’t take long to stop. You’d grabbed Jasper with your cheeks soaked in tears and rubbed his back, that small stretch of warmth under your hand like a lifeline. In a way, Jasper being Spencer’s has made this easier. You’ve had a part of him. It just wasn’t enough to get over missing him. Every bit of joy —you have a baby now, your beautiful boy— has been swiftly followed with an aching sort of grief. Spencer missed his first cry, first bath, the very first time he opened his eyes. You can’t go back.

“They said three.”

Diana doesn’t seem concerned. She’s missed Spencer as much as you have, and you know her worry for him has made her more poorly than she’d otherwise be most days, but the baby helps. “I’m gonna find his bear,” she says.

You bend down, trying to see the corner of the street through the window. Then you remember the last time you left her alone in the kitchen and flinch. “Hey, Diana?” you call.

She’s checking the drawers for the bear. You’re not sure why she thinks the bear would be there, but perhaps that’s where she put it. “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” you ask her.

“You’re spying on me.”

“Spying implies you don’t know what I’m doing.”

She pats the baby’s back. “I can see why you and Spencer get along.”

It’s a little more than getting along.

She finds Jasper’s bear atop the bread bin, sitting at the kitchen table with him, the bear sat across from him, though Jasper’s already sleeping again.

You put the stovetop kettle on to boil and realise with a start that you can make Spencer a cup of tea at the same time. Your smile is unfailing, then. He really is coming home. The kettle begins whining while you recover his favourite mug from the cabinet, untouched the entire time he was gone.

“How many sugars today?” you ask.

“Was that the door?”

“What?” You’re putting the mug down before you can compute.

“Angel?”

You feel a rush of emotion all over at the sound of his voice. You try to call back to him, but you don’t manage anything more than a catching gasp as you push out of the kitchen and find him at the door. Right there at the end of the hall.

Pale, tall. Arms already opening, half a step as you run at him. He doesn’t complain when your chest knocks against his. He doesn’t say anything at all.

“Hi,” you breathe, pressing your nose to his shoulder. Your eyes stay open —it’s like panic without the fear. He’s really here in your arms.

He squeezes you tightly. So tight you can’t breathe for a second. Then he gentles, his hands rubbing up and down your back out of sync, face falling into yours.

In the kitchen, Jasper makes a croaky crying sound, a stirring Diana calms immediately.

You attempt to pull away. Spencer will want to see Jasper, of course. He hadn’t met his own son. It was all he could talk about for weeks before he went away, and yet—

Spencer just rubs your back. After another half a minute like that, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat.

“Yeah? No one would tell me anything specific, I was worried you might not be alright.”

“Everything went fine.” He holds you to his chest. He smells like cheap soap. “I didn’t– it was really okay. He was easy, like he knew I couldn’t handle any complications.”

“And he–?”

You recognise the undercurrent in his voice. It’s the same thing you felt when they put Jasper on your chest for the first time. “He’s perfect.”

“All ten fingers?”

You pull away. Immediately, Spencer’s taking your face into two hands, his eyes pouring into yours with an intensity that worries you. “He has all his fingers and toes,” you say quietly, “how about you? How’s your leg?”

He doesn’t seem to be able to answer. Jasper makes another noise and Diana’s chair creaks. You turn with Spencer’s hand on your side, watching as she brings Jasper to the door.

“Spencer,” Diane says, like she just saw him yesterday, “you’re late.”

“Sorry, mom.”

He always sounds younger when he talks to her.

“Will you take the baby? I was just making some tea,” she says.

Spencer nods but doesn’t move.

“I’ll take him.” You kiss Spencer on the cheek. Remember you haven’t for weeks and kiss him again. “It’s okay.”

You hold your arms out and take Jasper against your chest. Spencer takes a step forward, stops, hesitating, but when you turn to him with a comforting smile the band holding him back snaps. He crosses the room, breath pulled like he’d stopped as he cranes his head to see his baby.

“Three weeks old today,” you say softly, tipping Jasper back so Spencer can see his face. “He missed his daddy, you know.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Of course I can. I’m his mom, Spencer… And who wouldn’t miss you?”

Spencer shakes his head gently, reaching out to caress Jasper’s full cheek.

“Jasper,” Spencer says.

“He’s been a great baby so far. Doesn’t give me much trouble. He cries all night, of course… but all babies do. He goes down after a while. I’ve–” You swallow the heat of missing Spencer like a barb dragging against the inside of your throat. “Told him you’re coming home. I told him every day, I promise.”

“M’sorry,” he says, pained.

“I know, Spence.” You nudge him. “Time to hold him, honey.”

He’s more eager than you thought. It’s almost like he’s worried you won’t let him have the baby, but it’s like you told him on the phone: Spencer made a stupid mistake, and you still love him. He never should’ve been going back and forth like that, but you get why he did. Wouldn’t you want Jasper, one day, to care about you in the same way Spencer loves his mother? You forgave him the moment he apologised.

“It’s alright,” you say, slotting Jasper from your arms to his, guiding his hand behind Jasper’s delicate neck. “Just hold him. He missed you.”

Spencer sniffles. “I missed him too,” he says.

“I know.”

Diana realises eventually that Spencer being home is a big deal. It’s not her fault, not understanding, but the new baby, her relocation again, her nurse barely gone, and Spencer’s sudden homecoming, it’s probably too much to deal with. She finds you, Spencer, and Jasper on the couch in the living room and frowns at him heartily. “You won’t hug your own mother?” she asks.

“You’ll have to hug me around the baby,” he says, sorry.

She agrees to this without fuss. She caresses his cheek as he’d done for Jasper as she pulls away.

“Thank you for helping out, mom,” he says.

“It was all Y/N, Spencer. You know mothers. We’re strong.”

Spencer looks at Jasper, still sleeping, and then to you, a shade of adoring in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “I know,” he says.

You curl into his side and take a breath. For the first time in weeks, you let your body relax, finding it sorer and angrier than you’d left it the last time you had the chance to check in.

Spencer brings the side of your face to his lips to kiss your weary cheek.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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bunny-jpeg · 1 month ago

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"beautiful." price's words were like a siren's call as you looked to him. in his hands was his lunch that you picked up for him. in a pressed, expensive suit, leaned back in his office chair. he looked at you with a certain look in his eye as he said, "roast beef and swiss? the order is roast beef and gouda." he put the paper back around the food and said. he crossed his arms and huffed, "you're supposed to be my assistant. are you not taking this job seriously?"

you stood there, shivering like a leaf at your boss' heavy gaze. there was some dark behind those blue eyes. but he covered it up with one of his charming smiles. you didn't want to disappoint, but you swore that he said he liked roast beef and swiss earlier in the week...

it was almost too easy to trick you, price almost felt bad about it. you were so eager to please, those pleading eyes, the tremble in your soft bottom lip. didn't help that those pencil skirts you wore showed off all of those curves of yours. this was your first job post graduation and you didn't want to mess it up!

"c'mere, you know the rules." just as you were eager to please in your job. you also aimed to please price on every level. you got his coffee, photocopied his paperwork, sucked his cock and let him finish inside of you. you were the perfect employee.

you approached him and he reached for you and placed a hand on your behind as you stood next to him. he got his legs off the desk and pulled your soft middle up against his bearded cheek.

he gripped your ass tightly and you let out a sharp noise, which he shushed you for, "quiet there, little bird. don't want everyone to know that you're gettin' fucked by the boss. they might get jealous." or think you're a total whore. he gave your ass a firm pat before he said, "over the desk, love."

you were perfect as you bent over the desk and let price pull down the zipper and let it fall to your ankles. your panties ended up halfway down your thighs. then price got his cock out of his dress pants and rubbed the leaky tip against your slick entrance.

"i expect the best from you. i know it's a hard concept for you, doll. but i believe you can be the best you can be. you just need to work harder and do better. right? can you do that for me?" he asked with a heat in his tone before he pushed his cock into you.

he rested his chest up against your back and placed a hand over your mouth as he started to move against you. his thrusts like ruts of a dog in heat, needy for your pretty pussy. hard not to become obsessed, you were a virgin when price for met you. you've come a long way and while you were doing excellent at your job. price believed that there was still some more training to do. so that meant price having to be a good boss and teach you everything you need to know.

except it was hard to keep the lessons in your head when your brain was near mush from the intensity of climax. price's weight felt good against your back, he squished you under he sturdy form. you knew under that crisp button up, he was hairy like a shag carpet.

his cock hit against your sweet spot and your noises got a little higher in pitch, but price clamped his hand tighter around your mouth, his hand almost big enough to cover your nose too. he said lowly, "shh, shh, shh doll. relax. relax. that's a good girl." he said with a low tone, "no need to cause a scene, i know it's good for you."

he moved against you, his cock was hefty. it stretched you, but didn't tear. sometimes he fucked you and it was like he was re-shaping your poor pussy to fit him. and only him. you gasped a little louder, it was hard to compose yourself when the pleasure raced through your body.

something about price that pulled you in. he was a domineering presence in your life. he made you squirm and ache for him. you wanted to do well for him, make him praise you. even if that meant letting him take you raw over his solid desk. he kept you quiet while he fucked you, his heavy breathing in your ear as every thrust of his hips aroused you more.

you felt so good under him, right where you belonged. pretty little thing spread out like paperwork across his desk. your red cotton panties around your thighs and that skirt at your ankles. if price had his way you'd be in a lot less clothes at the office, and maybe a collar too. little tag that said "property of jonathan price". but he'd just have to settle with fucking the daylights out of you over his desk. until your little body bruised from how hard the surface was.

he liked a girl he could own, keep wrapped around his thick fingers like the ones he was keeping in your mouth as he fucked you. didn't hurt that you did your job well and you kept his cock nice and warm. you were the full package. and price loved it.

he thrusts left your head in a tailspin as he continued to pleasure the both of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you felt his cock spear you open, make himself fit inside your cunt. he was the only one who ever used it, and he was the only one who would ever use it. he continued his movements, his long thrusts that left you feeling on a different planet. his heavy movements that had you gasping around his fingers in your throat.

"good girl. good girl." he cooed as he fucked you heavily. he felt your cunt tighten around his heavy cock. he knew it was a lot to take for you, but he knew you'd persevere and take him each time.

you tried to speak but his hand muffled any noises. you arched your back a little to give him further access to your weepy cunt. you felt trapped by his aggressive movements and it shook you down to your core. your head throbbed, your body trembled. you couldn't help yourself. it was all so much, you kept your hands flat on the desk as you were pushed further up against it.

you saw stars when you closed your eyes, each thrust hit in a way that it made your toes curl in your heels. you were price's little assistant, your job was to make sure he was taken care of. he was a busy man who worked long hours. you whimpered as you kept his fingers in your mouth as his cock dragged up inside of you.

he had fully marked you inside and out. his thrusts continued but he knew you were getting close by how wet you were, how your hole was fluttering around his cock and how he had to try harder to keep you quiet. his pace quickened and he watched you tremble. shivering like a leaf as the feeling of absolute pleasure started to take over.

it was a sight to behold. a proper working girl reduced to a whimpering slut. good girl.

"my petal. my doll. i want you to cum for me. i want you to make a mess of my cock. i want them all to smell your pussy on me when i got to my next meeting." he said with heat in his tone as his thrusts were brutal and his weight left you stuck under him. he made you take all of him as you clenched around him. your cunt tight that it was near impossible for him to pull out. a tight fit made tighter.

you whined and soon came around his cock. he continued his movements against you, fucking you right through not one, but two back to back orgasms. they felt almost on top of each other as they near fried your brain from the intense pleasurable feeling. your eyes closed once more as you let yourself be consumed by the heated feeling.

price continued to fuck you, his thrusts heavy as he neared his own climax as well. he fucked you as deep as it would go and eventually spilled himself inside of you. he cooed in your ear, "that's it, baby, that's it. you feel so good. pretty little thing for me." he rocked into you to get that over stimulated feeling through him as he felt you quiver under him.

he left you a mess on his desk, his cum stuck to your pussy lips and his wetness stained the front of his dress pants. the office smelt like hot sex and he watched you quiver against the desk. he gave your ass a firm squeeze before he tucked himself back into his pants, not minding the stain.

"p..price." you said in a shaky tone.

he replied, "up and at 'em, petal. you gotta get me a new sandwich before lunch is over. this was a nice appitizer, but i need some real food in my stomach. so hurry up." he got back into his seat and watched, "and get it right this time, or we'll have to do this lesson all over again." <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #call of duty #cod smut #cod x reader #john price smut #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain price x female reader #john price call of duty #john price x you #john price cod #captain price #captain john price x reader #ceo au #ceo!john price

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ssahotchnerr · 11 months ago

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i rlly wanna see how aaron would react to reader accidentally starting her period and leaking on his white sheets. i just know he would be so caring and conforming !!

stains

he soooo would cw; fem!reader, period talk, blood mentions, language, fluff <33

Even on the weekends, Aaron doesn't tend to stray from routine.

Apart from setting an alarm - he presses a kiss to the first patch of your skin he can find, rolls out of bed, and then opens the blinds so the morning light can naturally assist in waking you. Trailing into the en-suite bathroom, he hears you let out a gentle squeak, stretching from your laid position in bed.

He preps his toothbrush, blinking once, twice, in attempt to rid the heavy sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth is number one on his morning agenda; not only because it was the hygienic thing to do, he simply could not stand having horrid breath.

Despite the brushing sounds echoing in his head, he doesn't miss your low,

"Shit."

"Honey?" His attempt to speak was muffled, as his toothbrush was in his mouth. He tilted back from the sink, just enough to allow him to peer into the room, to see you.

You were sat upright, a handful of sheets in hand, meeting his eyes guilt-stricken. "I'm sorry. It wasn't due for another three days and you know I'm typically always on schedule and always prepared-"

"Hm?" Freeing his mouth from the toothpaste, quickly flicking the water on/off to rid the residue and wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he re-entered his room.

As he came closer, your flushed cheeks were vividly noticeable, the remorse in your eyes even more intense. You clarified, "My period."

"Oh," his expression softened, before alternating to deep concern. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? Aaron your bed-"

"What about it?"

"It's stained - the sheets. Fuck," you scrambled up, not wanting to ruin them further, wincing in pain as you did so. You quickly padded past him to the bathroom, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet. He followed behind.

"And? Sweetheart if you think I care about that," he chuckled, sweetly shaking his head. "Do you have...?"

"In my bag."

Feminine products - Aaron redirected himself, finding your overnight duffle tossed hastily near the foot of his dresser. As he rummaged through it, he mentally cursed himself for not already having a supply waiting under his sink, and mentally added such to his future shopping list.

He grabbed the other necessities - an extra pair of underwear, t-shirt, opting to grab your favorite pair of shorts from his drawer. One he hadn't worn in quite a while as you had claimed sole ownership.

You sheepishly accepted the items from him, refraining from lifting your gaze. "Thank you."

"Hey," With a finger he lifted your chin, causing you to meet his soft, brown eyes. "It's okay."

You shook your head in shame, prompting his hand to fall.

"It's your body. It's natural. It's- this is not an inconvenience to me, it is for you. Plus, this is exactly what they invented stain remover for."

Despite yourself you laughed, wrapping your arms around your middle. "I suppose."

The ends of Aaron's lips itched upwards, successful in his goal to crack a smile. Although, his amusement sobered back to concern, "You never answered my question from before. Are you alright?"

You grimaced. "Crampy."

"Advil then?" Aaron asked and you nodded. He placed his hand on your lower abdomen soothingly, the warmth of it calming your tensed muscle. That was the thing about his touch, it never failed to relieve any aches or discomfort, physical and emotional. "And a bath? I recall you saying that helps, with easing the pain."

"Please."

He quickly obtained the pain reliever, started the bath. "Don't worry about the sheets, I'll strip and get 'em in the wash. Hand me your clothes too." He ran his hand under the stream of water, regulating the temperature as you immediately began to protest, claiming, 'it was your mess, your doing,' but Aaron kindly shut you down, "Nope. Let me handle it, I insist."

"And if the stain doesn't come out?"

"I've been meaning to dispose of them anyway. They're getting old, they've fulfilled their job well." After flashing you a sympathetic smile Aaron stood, his age vaguely showing when his knees cracked as his legs straightened. He placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to dissolve your current, growing pout. "Just relax."

You willingly met his eyes this time. You tousled his hair, still disheveled from sleep, paying extra attention to the short hairs behind his ears. Your nails scratched at his scalp, expressing your gratitude silently.

"And if it makes you feel any better, this isn't the first time I've had to soak blood from linens."

"It doesn't," you rolled your eyes at his injury-prone occupation, but he did however manage to pull yet another smile from you. A gentle laugh came from deep within his chest at your response. "But thank you."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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anothermaletfwriter · 26 days ago

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Dark Macademia Masculinity

(First story yay, I'll post a companion story to this soon)

Jonathan and Jeremy were your typical gay couple. Jeremy worked as a hairdresser in the local mall and Jonathan was a flight attendant. When the both of them were home, which was rare due to Jonathan’s job, they would usually play a cozy soft fantasy-themed farm dating simulator on their bright pink Switch, or crochet colorful plushies of bees. Jeremy was the bookish nerd of the two. Obsessed with tropes and romances, he would info dump about his favorite graphic novels and fanfiction to Jonathan. While Jonathan loved Jeremy for his softness and approachability, he sometimes wished he himself was a bit more masculine. Less flamboyant looking. No matter how hard he worked out or how many protein powders he bought, he could never see any progress at the gym. But Jeremy loved him for the soft twink he was, so he typically kept those thoughts to himself.

Today was an exciting day for Jeremy. There was a promotional event in the local bookstore. Jonathan reluctantly went with him, only there to support his ever loving boyfriend.

In the brightly lit modern store, a large bright pink banner with black bold lettering above said “Try An Extrasensory Novel today.”

“Babe, I’ll be at the Graphic Novels section. They have the newest book of the CardiacPauser series,” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Jonathan, his white hoodie drapping over his.

“I’ll stay. Something tells me I’ll find a book I like here.”

Jeremy kissed him on the cheek, before traversing to his section. “Okay babe.”

Truthfully, Jonathan wanted to be left alone, knowing that if he had gone with his boyfriend, he would just be standing there as he read the graphic novels. He peeked at some of the bold and brash covers of the books but none stood out to him. Some boring modern day issues and thrillers. None of that was interesting.

A strong nutty scent of macadamia nuts interrupted his picky process. It was delicious. He was enamored by it since it was his favorite syrup in his boba order. But where was it coming from? There were no bubble tea places or even a coffee shop nearby. Hopefully no one had spilled anything, it would be a hot mess to clean. All the residue would attract ants and no one wants that, especially at a book store.

The scent grew stronger as he knelt down on the floor but there were no stains or spills on the dark green carpet. Not even a droplet of liquid. His nose led him to a specific book. The cover was a simplistic black text in front of a gray to white gradient background. An amateur with a dream and MS paint must have made it. It read: “Absolute Maximum: Understanding Yourself”. The blurb revealed it was a self-help men’s book. MAXIMIZE YOUR GAINS. MAXIMIZE YOUR ALPHA. MAXIMIZE YOUR MASCULINITY. Finally, a book that appealed to him. While he read the acknowledgments to alpha males and the pinnacles of masculinity, an aggressive warmth developed in his chest but he wasn’t sweating. The book was smaller and lighter in his now larger hands.

Chapter 1: ASSERTING YOURSELF. The simple prose asserted him to realize his true self. He was a man’s man, not a flamboyant twink. He felt the glow in his body starting to spread. Jonathan failed to notice his limbs stretching and growing to fit his muscular frame. His baggy clothes were tiny on his taller frame. While he remembered being at eye level with the middle shelf, he towered over it in the present.

He speedread the first and last paragraphs of the rest of the chapters, after all everything in between was filler. His once faint abs exploded into rock, hard canyons on his stomach. Adonis belt defined enough to go skiing on them. The flat soft joke of a chest ballooned into firm pecs. He owed it from his strict dieting routine and gym sessions with the bros. But what about Jeremy? Wait who was that? His memories of his boyfriend shifted into memories at extensive frat parties and going home with hot chicks afterwards.

The rest of the pages flew by from his intense skimping. His twig arm exploded with bulging biceps and triceps. He rolled up his small hoodie and flexed the peaks of mountains that were on his arms. He felt a glowing pleasure as testosterone fueled throughout his body. He thirsted for a protein shake. His face hardened into a mature shape, his hands gliding across a chiseled jawline. His traps and shoulders spiked up, bulging out of the jacket close to bursting out. The more words he read, the more of his memories transmuted. All the times he cuddled with Jeremy with hot cocoa under a pink blanket were replaced by his new memories of flattering women in his own apartment with a bookshelf of books he curated solely from their color schemes. He hardly read anything in them besides the blurb on the cover and the first chapter. He wasn’t a fuckboy, per se. He had a more academic approach, aiming to get into women’s pants through the seductive language of surface-level literature discussion.

Jonathan Johnny exhaled a deep breath as his tight top, which constricted his chiseled pecs, turned into a loose black shirt underneath a dark beige open jacket. He outgrew his sweatpants into a dark pair of jeans, which he tightened using a studded black belt. He felt god-like but his heart started to race. A quiet part internally knew this wasn’t him— but it was. This was the real him. None of this should be surprising.

Thoughts of his boyfriend, Jeremy, dissipated into the air. He didn’t have a boyfriend. He wasn’t into men. He was Johnny, the straightest man ever known. He had been straight his whole life, recalling his first time with a hot book nerd girl in the unisex bathroom of a bookstore back in his small town. In his time as a flight attendant, he often slept with the foreign women around the airport, sneaking into his overseas hotel rooms.

The book was unnecessary, so he returned it. It no longer smelled of macadamia nuts. He didn’t need it. He already was the most alpha he had been. His once kind and feminine personality turned into a more manipulative, masculine one. He used the charms of academic aesthetics to sleep with woman, often pretending to know the novels they loved. He surveyed the store for any hotties to bang, as a red head with glasses catching his eye.

Johnny walked up to the girl, feeling like a titan over her, with a book he had picked up that was a modern retelling of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. He didn’t really care about the contents of it since it was a lure for the woman he wanted to conquer. He peeked down on her, and felt his underwear being restrictive.

He leaned on the shelf opposite to her, opening his book one-handed while squeezing his chest with the other hand. He glanced at her to elevate his mysterious nature.

“Oh hi,” The red head squeaked, rearranging her glasses. Her fingers that held her fantasy romance novel were shaking.

Turning the book down, he revealed his square jaw, “What are you reading?” He walked closer to the girl, subtly flexing his bicep.

“Nothing. It’s just a romcom. Dark broody male love interest. Strangers to lovers. Heh.”

Johnny kneeled down to her height. He whispered in his deep voice seductively to her ears, extending a hand out, “Hope it has a happy ending.”

The red head took his hand with no hesitation. Her face red from the blushing, dropping the book on the floor. She was utterly lovestruck. While walking out the store, they passed by a gay couple who apologized for bumping into him. No worries, he said. He enjoyed gay men’s existence since they took out potential competition for his women.

On the drive home on his motorcycle, the red head noted that Johnny had fit every criteria of her dream love interest: well traveled, dresses in a dark academia style, tall, muscular and drives a motorcycle.

He fucked her brains out while she felt his defined physique with the crevices between his chest and bulging six pack. Her moans were a common sound in his dimly lit apartment. After he finished his seed in her, the remnants of Jonathan and his homosexuality were shot out as well. He went to his bathroom and snapped a mirror selfie to put on his social media profiles. This was the real Johnny. No more Jonathan. He admired himself of the man he was before returning to round two.

#male tf #male transformation #gay to straight #tf story #muscle tf #reality change #breeder tf #mental change

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blgvd · 6 months ago

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AND THEY WERE ROOMATES...

TL;DR - 𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘰 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱...𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘵-𝘴𝘰-𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 contents - 𝙄𝙣𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙢𝙖 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝘼𝙐, 𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙝𝙤𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 👀 A/N - 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 !! 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 😋 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘵2 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴🤠

“Ino..?”

“...”

“INO!”

You knocked against Ino’s door, one hand rested on your hip. You could hear the bass of his stereo drown out your desperate knocks. Exhaling sharply, you pulled your phone from the back pocket of your shorts, calling his number and surprisingly hearing his somehow louder ringtone from inside his room

He swiveled in his desk chair, getting up to walk towards the door.

He groaned, twisting the door handle “ we live in the same house why didn’t you just get up and — oh”

You furrowed your brows glaring into his deep auburn eyes, a small curl from the front of your hairline curving with your angered expression

“Go in that bathroom and unclog my drain, I know all of the hair in it is from you” gesturing to Ino’s slightly dampened hair ghosting over his broad shoulders.

“Tch don’t act like you don’t add to it” he remarks, lazily leaning against his door frame

“Your hair is literally longer than mine”

“Barely!” Ino implored, “And it’s not your bathroom is OUR bathroom”

“Whose name is on the lease? Whose name got put down when we got a noise complaint? Whose—”

“Relax, I’ll clean the dumb drain” he pushed past you and into your shared bathroom. You watched him drag his slippers into the bathroom and slam the door behind himself. Living with someone like Ino was far from your bucket list this year, but by some strange and eerie fate, the universe had drawn you two together.

6 months prior, you had posted an ad for a roommate on your university’s forum board. Your previous roommate had received an opportunity to study abroad, leaving you with a two bedroom flat that you (not by any circumstance)could afford on your own. Ino hit you up on the offer and out of reluctant desperation; you obliged.

Not that you had anything against him, you two shared a major and you remembered him always walking into your 9 a.m. class late last semester. You just found it a little odd living with a guy you weren’t dating or related to.

The first few weeks were a bit awkward, but Ino slowly learned your habits and you learned his. Like how he’d always leave random lights on at night, or how you’d always leave empty cups around the house. Once you both got comfortable is when the issues sprouted.

He’d eat your takeout leftovers and the next morning you’d “accidently” spill something on his carpet. When your phone calls would stretch into Ino’s sleep, the next night he’d stay up with his amp turned as high as it could go. He knew that playing his music loud irked you, and whenever the two of you bickered, it was your eardrums that suffered.

Despite the household annoyance matches, you and Ino had a close friendship, you two lived together after all. But ONLY a friendship and nothing more, you weren’t even in the market for anything serious…right?

“Mornin’ ” Ino drawled, pushing brunette strands out of his face

“Hey,” you replied dryly from the couch, watching South Park clips on Youtube

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, sitting across from you in the tattered loveseat you owned, flashing a smirk at you before taking a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. Without looking away from the TV you recalled the events from the previous night.

“Slept like a baby thanks to your colorful gaming commentary..” referring to the cancel worthy statements Ino had been yelling at his monitor screen. He knew you didn’t sleep, he was hoping you wouldn't; as pay-back for making him clean the all mighty sink drain.

“Anyways,” he said stretching his arms over the headrest of the seat, “I’m goin’ to this party later so don’t expect me home”

You turned to him, “You wanna be me soooo bad I swear, I got invited to a party tonight not too far from here,” you paused, “but I’ll still be sure to jingle my keys extra loud when I come back tonight so I don’t get flashed.” adding on with a small giggle

Ino raised an eyebrow at you, “First of all, that's nasty. Second of all, don’t be mad I get invited to better parties than you”. You stood up and turned to go to your room, stopping right behind Ino to dig your slightly pointed nails into his shoulder before quietly leaving the room.

The remainder of the day dragged on and on. But finally, the sun began to set, and you excitedly began getting ready for the party. The invite was on your school’s barstool account, so you weren’t exactly sure about what to wear, but you settled on a denim mini skirt with a baby tee and assorted amounts of unnecessary jewelry.

Ino had left hours before, assuming he was stopping by the gas station to get alcohol; your roommate was known to buy Freshman cheap booze in exchange for party invites.

You softly pushed open the double doors of the well known sorority house that was hosting the rager. Cheap strobe lights hitting your eyes, slightly blinding your vision.

“Hey pretty!” you heard, spinning to your left to see Yuki Tsukumo waving you over. Yuki was the closest thing you had to a sister for the past few years, you both supported each other through thick and thin, draining yourselves to fuel the other; she was your rock.

“Ugh you look stunning gimme’a 360°” you obliged, turning in a small circle to show Yuki the entirety of your outfit.

“You like?”

“No, I love”

The two of you talked and laughed, slightly tipsy. The host of the party, a bubbly sorority girl(most likely drunk out of her mind), gathered everyone’s attention and announced a game of spin the bottle. You shrugged it off, turning back to where Yuki had been sitting, now seeing her strutting over to the huge circle forming. Your friend wasn’t usually the type to participate in games like this, usually calling them “childish” and “a waste of a good party”, but her out of character action clicked once you saw her sit directly across from a guy she had mentioned to you earlier; Choso Kamo. He wasn’t really your type, but Yuki wanted him…bad. You sighed to yourself and plopped down next to Yuki, quickly scanning the circle, seeing a few familiar faces.

Unbeknownst to you, Ino was glaring at you from behind, immediately recognizing you. At first he thought you had followed him, proving your jealousy, but once he saw you mingling with the host he was able to piece together that you were both invited to the same party.

He slid against the wall to the other side of the room, not-so-discreetly looking for your face. Finally making it around to the mini-bar littered with plastic cups, his lips parted slightly; you looked different. To be fair, Ino had only ever seen you in house clothes or casual school clothes. For a while he forgot that you even went out.

He admired the way your face lit up with the dim ceiling lights, the way you rested your intricately manicured hands on your knee, the other hand picking at the patchy carpet floor. Maybe it was the liquor, or the angle you were at, but to Ino, you looked gorgeous. Ethereal at that. His first instinct was to go and join the lively circle, cheers echoing throughout the house as another pair of partygoers kissed. Ino chose to hang back, considering that he’d melt if he got any closer to you.

Your eyes wandered over the decorated living room, growing bored with the game. The bottle had yet to land on you and with such a big circle your turn hadn’t come yet.

“M’gonna grab a drink Yuki”

“Uh-huh” she grabbed your wrist pulling you back down, “isn’t that your roommate over by the bar?”

Spinning your head back towards the kitchen, you noticed his disheveled chestnut hair and lazy slouch; oh that was him alright. You swallowed harshly; what was he doing here? How’d he find you? And why’d he look kinda good…

Your rambling thoughts came to a screeching halt once he turned back around and caught you staring at him. You whipped your neck around fast enough to break it, silently pleading to whatever God was out there, that he hadn’t seen you. But then you realized; at the same time he was trying to stare at you.

Suddenly Yuki cleared her throat, breaking you out of your trance. Her boney fingers held out the bottle to you, motioning for you to spin it. You let out a deep sigh, taking the faded glass bottle and placing it on the trashed floor, gripping its body before flicking your wrist to make it whirl around. While it spun you snuck glances back towards the bar, feeling Ino’s searing stare on your back.

The bottle’s neck came to a stop on a sleazy frat boy, Satoru Gojo to be exact. No one really liked him, and to be frank he was denser than a boulder, but he never failed to get in a girl’s pants. He shot you a smug grin, sticking his hands in his pockets and stalking into the middle of the circle where you now stood, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

You took hold of his forearms, starting to regret your decision to play. He leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours, thinking it would only be a light peck on the lips you returned the kiss, puckering your lips ever so slightly. Suddenly he opened his mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, practically eating your face off. Your stomach did a backflip, not in a good way but in a “im-about-to-throw-up” kind of way. He tasted like every kind of liquor in the world, concluding that he’d already had his fair share of drinks and mixers prior to this moment.

Not too far away, Ino was watching everything unfold, his grip on his plastic SOLO cup tightening every second that Gojo’s lips were on yours. You were way too good for him, he thought. Luckily for him, he could tell you weren’t enjoying it, seeing your stomach lightly jerk from the gag you were holding in. When Gojo finally pulled off after a few seconds (that felt like years to Ino), he backed away and basked in the hollers and back slaps from his fraternity brothers. You, on the other hand, backed away and nervously laughed with the cheers from Yuki and your friends.

Once the next person got a hold of the bottle you quickly grabbed your purse, hoping to somehow sneak away from the circle.

“You ok?” Yuki questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded curtly and walked as fast as you could down the hall towards the guest bathroom. Though unbeknownst to you, Ino followed behind. When you made it inside the bathroom you sunk down on your knees in front of the toilet bowl, glossy lips quivering. You dry heaved and coughed before puking up what little you had in your system, everything felt hot and you cringed at how dumb you must've looked kissing him. Suddenly you felt a pair of hands push your bangs out of your face, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You whined in defeat, “Yuki I already said I’m alright, go back to the party I don’t wanna ruin—”

“M’not Yuki” Ino blurted out, wincing at his forwardness.

You sat straight up, pivoting on your knees to meet his gaze, he was squatting down with his head slightly tilted. He smirked at you, a hand still slightly rubbing your back.

“And I thought I was the lightweight,” he chuckled. Your gaze softened, letting out a breathy giggle. You crossed your legs and sat back against the front of the toilet. Ino flopped down in front of you, with one knee up and leaning back on the peeling bathroom wallpaper.

“What happened to getting invited to better parties than me?” you questioned, twirling your fingers around each other.

“Guess I was wrong, ‘looked like you were having lots of fun a few minutes ago,” he scoffed, “that douche can’t even kiss right”, he thought.

“For your information I wasn’t having fun at all, I know for a fact I looked dumb and now my mouth tastes like dry Twisted Tea,” you slightly shook your head, “I’d give anything to make my brain forget about it”.

Ino leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his auburn eyes. “You’re telling me you’d rather forget about kissing that guy than remember it?” He tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought. “Sounds like someone needs a better party kiss.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “What do you mean by ‘better’?”

He shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. “I mean… there are definitely better options than that frat boy.” His gaze lingered on your lips, and the air in the small bathroom felt electric.

Your heart raced, caught between embarrassment and something else—something thrilling. “Are you saying you want to show me how it’s done?”

Ino’s smirk widened, and he shrugged, the casualness of his demeanor almost masking the tension building between you. “Only if you want me to. But I promise it’ll be a lot better than whatever that was.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hanging in the air. A part of you wanted to laugh it off, to tease him for being bold. But another part—the part that had been quietly longing for something more—pushed you to lean in closer. “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” He replied, his voice dropping lower. It was a challenge, and you could see the playful determination in his eyes.

In that moment, the playful banter melted away. The space between you felt charged, and you could hear the distant music thumping, but all you could focus on was Ino. The way he looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time, made your heart race even faster.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Show me.”

Ino’s expression shifted from teasing to something serious, and the weight of the moment settled over you both. He leaned in, closing the distance, and your breath hitched. His hand found the back of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips gently pressing against yours. It felt different—soft and warm, like the world outside had faded away. You melted into him, instinctively leaning into the kiss, deepening it as a rush of warmth flooded through you. This wasn’t just a kiss; it felt like a promise, an unveiling of feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long.

Your hands wandered over his chest, nails scratching at his baggy black tee. Ino leaned back again as you, almost automatically, crawled into his lap to straddle him. His hands grazing over your hips as you cupped his face, the kiss growing sloppy. You pulled away ever so slightly, your lips still brushing against his,

“Wanna get outta here? This bathroom’s kinda cramped.” you suggested, panting slightly. All Ino could do was nod aggressively, eyes wide with shock at what he’d just done. It was as if something took over him, all of his pent up desire spilling out and over the edge. You raised up slowly, grabbing his wrist to shock him out of his trance.

Before he could react he was borderline speeding down the empty road, with your torso leaned partially over the center console, a hand of yours rested on his inner thigh.

#ino takuma #takuma ino #ino x reader #takuma ino x reader #ino takuma x reader #InoTakuma #jjk x reader #jjk x you #ino x you #takuma x you #blgvdwrites #new writers on tumblr #uhohboneralert

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queenie-ofthe-void · 2 months ago

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Tainted

Steddie || wc: 3k || rating: E || cws: DEAD DOVE DNE, steve harrington whump, Vampire!Eddie, post break up second chance, blood (like a lot of blood), blood drinking, chronic pain and illness, heavy angst, THE HAPPY ENDING IS HERE! || ao3

Part 1

Steve wakes up to someone pounding on his front door.

It’s well into the night, which means he’s been out for at least an hour. Dried lube flakes from his skin as he shifts his legs to stand. He reaches up over his head and points the tips of his toes, stretching a full-body ache that finally feels satisfying instead of vaguely awful.

The pounding continues and Steve starts to wonder why Robin even bothers before it stops. Steve rolls over onto his side, landing in a puddle of something cold soaked into his carpet. He’ll have a hell of a lot of scrubbing to do in the morning, but at least this time Steve won’t have to replace the carpet of an entire room again.

He sits up to flick on the small lamp sitting on the end table next to him. A small red patch of blood is puddled under where Steve woke up, with a stream of red dots sprayed out into the middle of the floor. He wonders why the wounds from nail punctures haven’t healed yet as he reaches up to his neck. Sure enough, the top two fangs hang haphazardly from his throat. When he pulls the contraption free, a fresh stream trickles hot down his chest, wetting his chest hair next to the matted patches of dried snot and tears.

Fucking pathetic.

Steve balls the blanket up in his hands and holds it firm against the bite. Cold and sticky, he heads towards the bathroom when he hears the sound of a key slotting into his door.

In unbridled panic– the slow trickle rising to a steady flow– Steve’s never been more aware of his own body. Completely naked, covered in an array of various fluids, bright red blood soaking into the oversized white blanket. He turns and rakes his eyes over the absolute shit show crime scene in the living room, including the paraphernalia.

This is the last thing he wants Robin to see, let alone Vickie. They don’t deserve to see him like this.

“Wait!” Steve shouts, untangling a stretch of blanket from his neck to hang in front of him like a disgusting shower curtain. At least it blocks most of the horror show. “Don’t come in!”

The door swings open.

Steve can’t quite see through the dark hallway, but the lack of greeting tells him it’s not Robin. He’s frozen to the floor, legs filled with cement as he watches the person close the door behind them. Their silhouette’s shrouded in darkness. Inside, Steve’s screaming to run, even as the dark shadow rushes towards him faster than he’s ever seen.

Faster than any human.

Red eyes and a mess of curly hair cloud his vision. It’s been so long since he’s seen or touched Eddie that Steve’s skin breaks out in violent goosebumps when he feels sharp claws wrap gently around his biceps and squeeze.

“You smell…” Eddie’s ragged voice tapers off. He’s on edge, and Steve can’t help but wonder how many feedings he’s missed. Steve catches the bobbing of Eddie’s throat as he swallows the saliva Steve knows is pooling at the back of his throat. He’s hungry. But there’s also a slight tilt to his brow and a pool of tears on his lower lash line, illuminated by the moonlight filtered through the curtain.

Steve instinctively swipes his thumb across Eddie’s cheek in comfort. His own unwarranted sympathy churns his stomach. “You look awful.”

Eddie’s laugh is self-deprecating at best and pained at worse. He nuzzles into the warmth of Steve’s hand and shudders, lingering at Steve’s wrist. A slow, high-pitched whine escapes between Eddie’s parted lips as he starts to mouth up Steve’s arm.

It’s Steve’s deepest fantasies come to life. He’s desperate for Eddie’s touch, pining for mouths and hands and slick, sweaty skin rubbing together. Eddie’s whine is even more beautiful than Steve remembers and the sound goes straight to his dick, which twitches with renewed vigour.

This is all wrong. He tries to remind himself this is a reality where Eddie left him, high and dry, to move across the country and never speak to him again. The man in front of him isn’t his anymore, and maybe never was to begin with. Maybe everyone was right about Steve falling under some kind of blood spell. He can’t help wondering now if no one stopped to consider if Eddie’d fallen under his own spell, craving Steve every time hunger cramped his stomach.

Steve slowly takes a step back, lowering his hands away from Eddie’s now tear-stained face. He reaches out for Steve, reluctant to let go. So Steve decides to indulge just a little and takes Eddie’s hand as he guides them into the kitchen. He flicks the microwave light on and turns to look at Eddie, who’s perched himself on the countertop next to the sink.

“You need to eat,” Steve says, maneuvering the blanket down around his hips to give Eddie easy access to his neck. He’s at least still a little optimistic he can get out the small puddle of blood already soaked in, Steve doesn’t want to make it any worse.

Eddie violently shakes his head, reaching out a shaky hand to Steve's shoulder, holding the blanket in place. “No,” he swallows again, heavily breathing in and out through his mouth. A man in the desert, dying of thirst yet refusing to acknowledge the oasis within arms reach. “That’s not– I’m not here for that. Please, Steve, I just came to talk.”

It catches him off guard. Surely Eddie’s only looking for the same release Steve made for himself only a few hours ago, apparently deciding a four hour plane ride would be worth drinking straight from the source. Except now he’s pushing Steve away. Eddie hops off the counter and opens the fridge, rummaging for what Steve knows he won’t find. So Steve gestures back to the counter before heading out to the garage himself, grabbing three blood bags instead of the usual two.

When he comes back, frozen bags in hand, Eddie’s got a bowl waiting. Steve grabs a glass to pour them in once thawed, but again Eddie surprises him. He snatches the bags from Steve’s hands, slitting the top of the bag off with his claws and dumps the frozen mush into the bowl. Eddie shoves a crazy straw right into the middle and slurps the mess down. It’s a horrific slushie, but the man seems to be enjoying himself until Eddie squints his eyes tight and winces.

“Oh shit, brain freeze,” Eddie groans, waiting for it to pass.

What starts as a small giggle to Eddie’s very human problem morphs into a manic cackle. Steve’s bent over the counter next to him, clutching his stomach as it begins to cramp from his uncontrolled, and frankly unhinged, laughing. This has been one of the most bizarre nights Steve’s had in a long time. Nothing about it seems real, everything from the guilt at using his makeshift toys to the love of his life sitting on the kitchen counter like he never left.

“This is insane,” Steve cackles, wiping tears from his eyes.

Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Steve leans back against the counter across from Eddie and sees a man that’s more familiar yet so distinctly different from the boy he used to know. Eddie’s crimson-haloed eyes have faded back to their normal umber brown, his fangs have fully receded, even though his lips are still stained with a ruby red glisten. There’s a concerned wrinkle on his forehead that Steve refuses to reach out and smoothen.

But even through Steve’s feeble attempts to add a false shine to his memories of Eddie, he’s more beautiful than Steve’s ever seen him. There are small crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the beginnings of laugh lines around his dimples. The few strands of silver in his hair sparkle against the shitty microwave lighting every time he moves. He’s dressed down in well-worn black sweatpants and an oversized black Led Zeppelin sweatshirt littered with small holes in the collar.

He's so fucking gorgeous, and it's eating Steve alive, much like whatever Eddie’s dying to say. So Steve leans against the counter across from him and waits, admiring the man he loves but lost, as he watches Eddie stare into the middle distance to collect his thoughts.

“I just– I needed to see you, but then it just all went to shit.” Eddie starts and stops, briefly looking at Steve before his gaze flits away. “My flight was delayed. Then, when I finally found an open seat, there was a layover and they lost my luggage. They said they’d send it to the motel I was staying at, but it never came and I got so thirsty that I couldn’t wait anymore. And then I found you–” Eddie’s sentence trails off, left hanging as he rakes his gaze over the now closed wound on Steve's neck and the dried rivulet of blood trailing down his collar bone into his chest hair.

“Jesus Eddie, how long have you been in town?”

Eddie sheepishly replies, “about four days.”

Steve shakes his head. Fucking unbelievable, this guy. “So you haven’t eaten in four days.” Eddie averts his gaze, chewing on his lip as he twists the skull ring on his finger. “Eddie, when was the last time you ate?”

He mumbles something incoherent, and only after a decent shove shouts “seven days!”

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve scoffs. He pushes himself away from the counter, pacing the kitchen just to do something, to keep his body moving and stop himself from smacking Eddie on the back of the head. Steve focuses on the cold tiles beneath his feet as he tries to pull himself together. “Why would you do that to yourself? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you,” Eddie shouts at him again. Steve spins on his heel, turning so fast to face him he almost loses his balance. He catches himself on the counter as Eddie starts to rant. “I’m always thinking about you, Steve. Constantly. Every concert, every new song, every goddamn date, it’s always you.”

Eddie hops down from the counter, a fresh wave of energy and a healthy, red hue to his cheeks. Where his eyes roamed the room before, they’re now locked on Steve. Unwavering devotion rolls off him in waves and Steve feels bulldozed by the intensity of the moment. Eddie takes Steve’s hands in his, gripping tight as he continues to carve out his heart, bleeding his confession all over the floor as he places it still beating at Steve’s feet.

“I love you, Steve Harrington. I never stopped, no matter how hard I tried. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that I don’t want to stop. Even if you don’t feel the same way anymore, or if you blame me for what I did to you, I couldn’t go another day without telling you everything. I know it’s not fair, and I want to be sorry. Sorry because you deserve so much better than a monster who destroyed your entire life, all because I was selfish and hungry and in love. Now I’m here, doing it all again.

“But this time, I want to do it right. I’m not going to poison this relationship. Again.”

He raises their conjoined hands to wipe the steady stream of tears from Steve’s cheeks. Steve can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his pulse rabbiting in his neck. Even though he knows Eddie can smell it coursing through him, his eyes stay locked on Steve’s.

Steve hears Eddie’s words, but he can’t get them to settle in his heart. He hasn’t really eaten anything all day, he drained a full bag, then shot himself full of venom as he fucked himself to exhaustion and passed out on the living room floor in a puddle of his own fluids.

This could all be some fucked up fever dream he concocted to torment himself with on the worst day of the year. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a nightmare this vivid.

A small prick to the back of his hand jolts him from his ruminations. Eddie’s still gazing at him, concern woven between his scrunched eyebrows. He knows Eddie’s waiting on him to say something. The silence draws on, the small light of hope shining in Eddie’s eyes fading every second it takes Steve to wrap his head around the concept that Eddie is here, right now, in the kitchen and we’re holding hands.

“Look, Steve, I– I’m sorry. This is so fucked up,” Eddie’s voice cracks. He drops his hands from Steve’s and takes a measured step back. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m– I’m just gonna go.”

It’s not until he’s turned away, rounding the kitchen island that Steve calls out and rushes after him, managing to grab Eddie’s wrist just as he turns back. They’re left standing close, almost nose to nose.

“How will–” Steve clears his throat around a strangled whisper– “would it be different. You know, if we tried again.”

Steve sees the moment relief hits Eddie like a lightning strike. He gasps, ragged against the hopeful tears brimming to fall down onto his wide smile. Long, sharp fingers gingerly slip between Steve’s like they’ve always been there and Steve squeezes back.

Eddie relaxes, leaning into Steve’s space until their foreheads are pressed together, curls curtained around them. “Oh don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got some ideas.”

~~~

It turns out Eddie did, in fact, have quite a few ideas. Some good, like taking it slow by not moving back in together right away. Start out slow with a few dates, catch up on each others’ lives, and find their way back to friendship before anything else.

Eddie also had some bad ideas, like throwing himself prostrate on Robin’s front stoop only for Vickie to open the door and scream as she tripped over him in her hurry to work. It was just one more log Robin got to add to Eddie’s funeral pyre. Steve’s not quite sure what happened there, neither of them willing to go into detail. All Robin had said to him, a wicked smirk stretched across her face, was that she handled it. On the other hand, Eddie with wide, terrified eyes just assured him everything’s fine now.

Their ultimate saving grace was for Eddie to keep drinking from the bags. Steve fought him on it, defensive and heartbroken that they’d be giving up one of the most intimate parts of their relationship. It was their hardest conversation, but in the end Steve realized Eddie was right.

“Stevie, this all happened because we were both so wrapped up in feeding that we never cooled off long enough to figure anything out. I want to show you that I love you for who you are, not for what you can give me.”

Eddie swipes a stray lock of hair across Steve’s forehead, away from his eyes. Steve cranes his neck behind him, pushing the back of his skull into Eddie’s chest just to get a good look at him. The low evening sun shines through the living room window and lights a golden fire in Eddie’s eyes. They’re warm as they gaze down at Steve, full of love.

Eddie’s been in Hawkins for almost two weeks, and he’s spent every evening at Steve’s for dinner. Some nights they just catch up, others they eat side by side on the couch watching old nerd show reruns.

This is the fourth night they’ve talked about their future, and only the second time it hasn’t turned into an argument. There was too much left unsaid for it to not blow up at some point, and Steve assumes it’ll happen again. But every night ends the same, perfect way.

Eddie wears Steve’s old sweats, leaning back against the arm of the couch with one foot on the ground and the other leg wrapped over Steve laying between his legs. Steve can feel the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his back as he blindly grabs for Eddie’s hand. He spins the ring around and around, tumbling in time to his churning thoughts.

“I know you’re right,” Steve concedes. “Plus, it’ll be nice for everyone to see that it’s not your love venom tricking my brain into doing stuff I don’t want to do.”

“Steve, we don’t have anything to prove– wait,” Eddie shifts back, the shock in his voice causing Steve to sit up to face and turn to him head on, “what do you mean love venom? What the hell is that?” Steve snorts at his high-pitched screech. It’s been years since he’s seen Eddie, but thankfully, some things never change.

Steve throws his hands out in front of him, a picture of innocence as he defends himself. “That’s just what Robin called it?”

“Jesus Christ, it sounds like you’re talking about drinking my–” Eddie lets his sentence fall dead on arrival as he dramatically gestures to his crotch. Steve rolls his eyes, but now that he’s thinking about it.

“You know, she might actually think it’s come.” She doesn’t.

Eddie gapes at him, eyes bursting to pop from his head, mouth flailing like a fish out of water, until Steve finally cracks. He’s never been great at poker. A dangerous grin spreads across Eddie’s face as he chides, “oh you’re so dead, sweetheart,” before tackles Steve onto the living room floor.

Happiness sings in his veins. Hope fizzes in his chest and yeah, he knows they’ve got a long road ahead of them. They’ve got some shit to work through, trauma to hash out and years to catch up on. Steve’s willing to give it a shot if it means Eddie’s back in his life– either as a partner or even as a friend. And as Eddie pins him to the carpet– sans bloodstain– he can’t help but see the same hope in Eddie’s crinkled, brown eyes shining back at him.

Header graphic kudos!

#a happy ending <3 #I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I loved writing it!#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas!eddie #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington whump #blood drinking #blood and gore #but just a little this time #second chance romance #getting back together #it starts hot! but our guys are both in a weird place #queeniewritesstories #tainted fic

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lifeofpriya · 6 months ago

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Stolen Slice of Time - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this fic was inspired by the convos I've had with both @2manytabsopen and @pyotrkochetkov about Jack's scruffy look and how we all are here for it. besties, this one is for y'all ❤️🫶🏼

summary: why have just a cozy night in when you can add a little zest to the evening too....

"Your hair's getting so long, babe," you quietly murmur, running your fingers through the soft, brown strands that cascade down Jack's neck. "And the scruff is really suiting you."

Jack, lounging comfortably in a worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants, flashes a grin in your direction. "You think so?"

You nod, watching as Jack's eyes light up with a hint of shyness. The room is dimly lit, only the flicker of the TV providing a soft glow. The faint scent of pine from the candle on the mantle fills the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the takeout dinner you both ordered. Raindrops tap-dance on the windows, casting shifting shadows on the plush carpet. The quiet evening stretches out before you, a welcome reprieve from the chaos of your respective careers.

"I find it quite charming, actually," you admit, tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb. His cheeks flush a bit, and he leans into your touch, eyes closing. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips is a stark contrast to the coolness of the evening.

Laying your head on his chest, you slightly lifted the left sleeve of Jack's shirt to expose the muscular arm beneath, tracing his lightning bolt tattoo with your index finger. The thump of his heartbeat syncs with the rhythm of the rain outside, a gentle reminder of life's steady pulse amidst the calmness of the moment.

Jack's hand comes up to cover yours, stilling your movement. He opens his eyes to look into yours, a silent question hanging between you both.

You smile and give his hand a squeeze, feeling his thumb stroke the back of your palm. "Just enjoying the quiet," you explain, voice barely above a whisper.

Jack nods, understanding. His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. The fabric of his shirt is warm and slightly damp from his earlier workout. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. His eyes refocus on the TV, but you know his mind is elsewhere.

"I know the last few weeks haven't been easy for you," you say, the words barely louder than the patter of the rain. "With you losing the semifinal at the US Open and then the Davis Cup…it's been tough, but I'm proud of you."

Jack's expression softens, and he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a silent gratitude. "Thanks, it means a lot," he says, his voice rumbling in his chest. His hand moves to your shoulder, gently squeezing in response.

"You're going to get back to winning, I know it," you reassure him, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his neck. His pulse flutters beneath your lips, and you feel his body relax a fraction.

Jack's hand comes up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours. "I hope so," he murmurs, his voice a blend of hope and vulnerability.

Your hand finds its way back to Jack's hair, gently playing with the ends as you sit up a little to look at him. "You know what some of my favorite things about you are?" you ask, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Jack raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What?"

You lean closer, your voice a warm whisper. "Your dedication to your craft, the way you light up when you talk about it. Your resilience in the face of setbacks. And of course," you add with a smirk, "how incredibly cute you are when you're all sweaty and focused on the court."

Jack laughs, the sound deep and genuine, a rare moment of carefree abandon. "Cute, huh?" He playfully pokes your side, making you giggle.

You nod, your smile never fading. "Seriously though, I've never seen anyone work as hard as you. And you know what else?"

Jack tilts his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What?"

"Your humility," you reply, leaning in to kiss him gently. "You're so talented, but you never let it get to your head."

Jack's smile turns a shade more serious as he looks at you. "Thanks for being there, for understanding what this all means to me," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the tension in his muscles start to ease.

"Always," you promise, resting your head back on his chest. The TV drones on in the background, but the real show is the steady beat of his heart, a comforting lullaby that seems to sync with the rain's rhythm.

"On second thought, maybe I should shave," Jack says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You know, clean up a bit before the next tournament."

"Don't you even dare think about it, Draper," you laugh, swatting at his arm. "I like the rugged look. Besides, it's not like you're not clean-shaven all the time."

Jack chuckles, his chest rumbling under your ear. "Fine, but only because you like it," he says, nuzzling into your hair. The warmth from his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

The TV's volume lowers as one of you reaches for the remote, the sports commentary fading into a gentle background hum. The rain outside seems to match the tempo of your conversation, a soothing rhythm that fills the quiet spaces between words.

As you trace the outline of the lightning bolt tattoo once more, Jack's eyes follow the movement of your hand, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. You both sit in companionable silence, the only sound being the rain outside.

"We haven't really had a chance to experience Tokyo, have we?" you muse, watching the droplets slide down the window.

Jack nods, his gaze drifting to the city lights beyond the rain. "No, not really. Just the hotel and the tennis courts."

You sit up, energy sparking in your eyes. "Let's do something about that."

Jack looks at you, surprise and excitement fighting for dominance on his face. "Now?"

"Yeah, why not?" You say, a hint of challenge in your tone. "We're in one of the most amazing cities in the world. We can't just stay cooped up in here all night."

Jack's eyes widen, and he sits up, his body language shifting from relaxed to eager. "But it's pouring out there."

You shrug, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "So what? It's not like we'll melt."

Jack looks at you, then back at the rain-soaked street, and sighs dramatically. "Alright, you've twisted my arm."

You both laugh and jump up from the couch, the sudden movement sending a rush of cold air through the room as you disrupt the warmth of your cocoon. The excitement of the impromptu adventure fills the air, pushing away the lingering shadows of his recent defeats.

Jack grabs a black hoodie and pulls it over his head, the material stretching over his broad shoulders. You watch, amused, as he searches for his sneakers under the coffee table. "Do you think we should take an umbrella?" he asks, holding up the collar of his hoodie.

"Where's the fun in that?" you reply, already feeling the thrill of the surprise outing. You slip into your own shoes, a pair of well-worn boots that have seen their fair share of adventures. The rain is a gentle crescendo against the windows, a siren's call to the night beyond.

Jack's smile widens, and he nods, the light in his eyes mirroring your own. "You're right, let's live a little." He grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door, his grip firm and reassuring.

The hallway outside the hotel room is quiet, the plush carpet muffling the sound of your footsteps. The elevator doors slide open with a gentle ding, and you both step in, the sudden enclosed space feeling electric with anticipation. The descent to the lobby is swift and silent, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator's mechanical workings.

Stepping out into the lobby, the warmth and dryness of the hotel are replaced by the cool, damp embrace of the Tokyo night. You both pause for a moment, the sound of rain a steady drumbeat against the pavement outside. The hotel's doorman offers an umbrella with a knowing smile, but you decline with a laugh, pulling Jack out into the rain.

The droplets are cold and surprisingly large, splashing against your skin and soaking through your clothes in seconds. You run down the street, hand in hand, the world around you a blur of neon lights and shimmering wet surfaces. The rain seems to cleanse the city, washing away the day's bustle and leaving only the vibrant nightlife in its wake.

Jack's laugh echoes through the narrow streets as you dodge puddles and rush through the rain. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are flushed with excitement, the stress of the last few weeks momentarily forgotten. The feeling of his hand in yours is electric, a connection that grounds you both in the here and now.

You spot a cozy ramen shop tucked between two buildings, the steamy windows beckoning you with the promise of warmth. You tug at his arm, pointing towards it. "Let's get something to eat," you shout over the rain.

Jack's eyes light up, and you both sprint the remaining distance, laughing as you're enveloped by the warm, spicy aroma of the restaurant. The door chimes merrily as you shake the water from your clothes, the sound mingling with the low murmur of conversation and the clatter of bowls and chopsticks.

Inside, the atmosphere is inviting. The walls are lined with wooden panels, and a row of colorful lanterns casts a warm glow over the counter. The chef nods in greeting, his apron dotted with the evening's culinary endeavors. You slide onto the stools, the vinyl sticking slightly to your wet legs.

"Two shoyu ramens, please," Jack says to the server, his British accent a charming contrast to the local dialect. The server nods and scribbles something on a pad before disappearing into the kitchen's steamy embrace.

You both watch the rain from the warm sanctuary of the ramen shop, the droplets racing each other down the windows, creating a blurry mosaic of the streets outside. The air is thick with the smell of umami, and you can feel the heat from the kitchen seep into your bones, chasing away the chill.

Jack turns to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can't remember the last time I just… did something like this," he says, his voice barely audible over the sizzle of the woks and the pitter-patter of rain.

You lean in, whispering, "That's what I'm here for. To remind you to live in the moment."

Jack's smile is a warm embrace, his hand finding yours again on the counter. The minutes tick by as you both watch the rain, the occasional giggle escaping when a particularly large droplet splashes against the glass. The anticipation for the warm bowls of noodles is palpable, a delightful hunger gnawing at your stomachs.

The chef slides two steaming bowls in front of you, the broth's aroma wafting up to tickle your nostrils. You both lean in, inhaling deeply before taking your first slurp. The rich flavors dance on your tongue, a symphony of salty, sweet, and umami notes. You watch as Jack's expression morphs from curiosity to pure bliss, the warmth of the ramen spreading through his body, a stark contrast to the cold rain outside.

As you eat, the conversation flows freely, bouncing from shared memories of past travels to the quirks of your favorite movies. You laugh, the sound mingling with the sizzle of the kitchen and the patter of the rain, creating a symphony of joy and comfort. The warmth of the food and the coziness of the little restaurant wrap around you like a blanket, a brief but welcomed reprieve from the world's expectations and pressures.

Jack wipes a stray noodle from the corner of your mouth, his touch gentle and playful. "You had a little something there," he teases.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up. "Thanks," you murmur, taking another slurp. The rain outside seems to be letting up a bit, the tempo of the drops slowing to a lazy rhythm.

Jack leans in closer, his voice low and intimate. "This… this is exactly what I needed tonight." He pauses, a rare moment of vulnerability passing over his features. "I've been so caught up in the game, I've forgotten how to just… be."

You smile warmly at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You're more than just a tennis player, you know," you say, your voice gentle but firm. "You're Jack Draper, the man I fell in love with, and this is just one part of who you are."

Jack's eyes search yours, finding comfort in the sincerity of your words. "I know," he whispers, his grip tightening around your hand. "But sometimes it's hard to remember that."

You lean over, placing your chin on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. "I'm here to remind you," you murmur, your breath warm against his skin.

Jack's eyes hold yours for a moment before he nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You always do," he says, his voice filled with affection.

As you finish your ramens, the rain outside turns into a gentle pitter-patter, the intensity of the storm giving way to a calmer evening. You both pay the bill, the chef bowing in appreciation as you leave a generous tip. The cool air outside feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out onto the now-deserted street.

The neon lights reflect off the wet pavement, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the surfaces. The city seems to breathe a sigh of relief, the rain having washed away the day's grime and stress. Hand in hand, you and Jack wander aimlessly, the cobblestone streets guiding you through a maze of alleys and side streets. The air is alive with the sound of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a car.

You stumble upon a small park, the trees whispering secrets to each other in the cool evening air. The rain has transformed the area into a tranquil oasis, the puddles shimmering like mirrors in the soft glow of the streetlamps. "Let's sit for a bit?" you suggest, leading him to a wooden bench under a large, leafy canopy.

Jack nods, and you both settle down, the rain-soaked bench cool against your backs. The air is filled with the scent of wet earth and blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the sterile hotel room. He pulls you closer, sharing his body heat, and you lean into him, feeling his heartbeat under your cheek. The rain taps a gentle rhythm on the leaves above, creating a soothing melody that seems to sync with your own pulse.

You sit in silence for a while, the city's noises a distant backdrop to the intimate moment. The rain slows to a drizzle, leaving a misty veil over the park that makes everything seem more mysterious, more romantic.

Jack sighs contentedly, his eyes closed as he soaks in the peacefulness. "You know, I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you," he says, his voice a low rumble in the quiet night.

You lift your head to look at him, the warmth of his body seeping into you. "That's because you're finally letting yourself live," you reply, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

Jack's eyes open, meeting yours with a look of understanding. "You're probably right," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly. The rain has dampened your hair, leaving it in soft waves around your face, and the coolness of the night air makes his skin feel like a warm embrace.

You both sit for a while longer, watching the rain's final whispers kiss the ground, before deciding to make your way back to the hotel. The streets are empty now, the city tucked in for the night, and the only sounds are the echoes of distant footsteps and the occasional splash of water as a car passes by. The dampness clings to you both, but the chill is forgotten in the warmth of your shared experience.

As you enter the hotel lobby, the contrast of the dry, warm air feels almost alien after the freshness of the outside world. You shake the water from your clothes, droplets flying like glitter in the lobby's soft light. The concierge gives you a knowing smile, and you can't help but feel a little like two kids who've snuck out past their bedtime.

The elevator ride back up to the room is quiet, the only sound the faint drip-drip of water from your clothes. You lean against Jack, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His arm is around your shoulders, and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours, the excitement of the spontaneous adventure lingering in the air.

When the doors slide open, you step into the dry, warm embrace of the hallway, the rain-soaked world of the city outside a distant memory. Inside the room, the cocoon of your earlier sanctuary awaits, the scent of the pine candle now mingling with the faint aroma of damp clothes.

Jack walks over to the windows and pulls the curtains aside, revealing the now calm night outside. The rain has left a glossy sheen on the buildings, and the city lights sparkle like jewels scattered across velvet. He turns back to you, a look of wonder in his eyes. "Thanks for this," he says, his voice sincere. "It's exactly what I needed."

You smile, standing up from the couch to join him. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the chill that lingers on your skin from the rain. You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his back, and together you watch the city breathe its nighttime sighs. The moment feels intimate and perfect, a stolen slice of time just for the two of you.

#jack draper #jack draper imagine #jack draper imagines #jack draper fic #jack draper fics #jack draper x reader #tennis imagine #tennis imagines #tennis fic #tennis fics

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mcfarlandsonflooring · 4 months ago

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Carpet Stretching Solutions for Everyday Problems

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eduardoscarpet · 3 months ago

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Carpet re-stretching en Garfield | eduradoscarpetnewjersey.com

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20dollarlolita · 9 months ago

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What are notches and how can I pirate them?

If you've ever used a commercial pattern, there's a good chance you've encountered notches. They're little markings along the edges of your cut pattern pieces, and you use them for identifying the pieces and aligning them with each other.

Notches are important for a lot of things. First of all, sometimes parts are not easy to tell apart from each other, so notches make similar pieces visually distinct. They help you know which parts align, so that you don't accidentally sew something to the wrong edge of a piece. They also allow you to align parts that might not otherwise line up. If you're connecting an inside curve to an outside curve, or you're connecting a gathered piece to a flat piece, or you're connecting two similar pieces made out of different fabrics, notches help you make sure you're lining pieces up.

However, as much as I love using PDF patterns from indie brands, sometimes a small pattern company will, <screams internally> just not use notches.

We add notches to the pattern piece, and not to the fabric, for a few reasons. We cut most garments on the fold, so when you add notches to the pattern piece, the notches will be symmetrical across the garment. It's also easier to manipulate paper without distortion than it is to manipulate fabric.

For many reasons, one being a lack of notches, I started a blouse and had to scrap the entire thing and start over. The fabric that I was working with was relatively fragile, and couldn't stand to be ripped and re-sewn too many times. Since I'm making this again, from a new size of the pattern, I thought I'd take the time to show everyone how I add notches:

The basic technique for this is called "walking a seam." You're going to need a tool to use as a pivot for your pattern, and a surface where you can stab through. Carpet, ironing boards, and big pieces of cardboard all work well for a work surface, and you can use a push pin for your pivoting tool.

To walk a pattern seam, the first thing you need to do is to draw your seam allowance onto each pattern piece. When you walk the seam, you're going to be aligning the actual seam lines, not the edges of the fabric. If your pattern won't tell you what included seam allowance is on every piece, ask for your money back. That's basic information you should always get.

Start at the top of the seam, and stab your little stabby tool through both layers, so that you line one seam line up with the next one. You can now use that point as a pivot to swing either pattern piece around.

It's hard to see what's happening in photos, so here's an illustration.

In this illustration, the red dot represents your pivoting tool. In the top row, you a) place the pivoting tool at the end of both lines, so that they overlap. B) turn one of the lines/pattern pieces. so that the lines overlap. Due to the curves of these lines, it only overlaps for a little bit, before they start curving apart again. Now C) You move your pivoting tool so that it's at the point where the two lines diverge.

Second row: You now, using your new pivot point, move one of the lines so that it overlaps the other line. You can now move the pivot point to the spot where the lines start to come apart again. Once you've moved the pivot point, you can rotate the seam lines to once again make them line up.

It makes a little more sense in video form, though GIMP was being uncooperative and not saving this as an animation properly.

Anyway, the point of all of this is that it's an accurate way to make sure that two curved lines are the same length.

Now, if you're walking a seam, and you put a mark at a point in the walk, the mark will be at the same length on both pieces. This is how you use marks to make sure that two pieces line up if they're curved in different directions.

For example, these two pieces are different shapes, but they're the same length. Because fabric is weird and it stretches, if we don't put a mark in the same spot on each piece, when we match them up, we can't know for sure that they're actually meeting up evenly on both spots.

For princess seams like this, I like to do one notch above and one notch below the big curve.

If you're making a pattern to sell to other people, it can be really helpful to look at where notches are supposed to go in modern pattern making convention, and to stick with that. For example, a lot of the time notches are meant to line up with base foundation lines such as bust or natural waist.

If you're just doing this because you got a pattern with no notches and you fucked it up last time, the only thing that matters is that you give yourself help.

You'll see that I have a single notch above the curve, and a triple notch below. This is because on the front, I had a double notch below, and that would look too similar if they were the same number of notches.

Okay, so other pattern making convention here: see how the side back and side front both face the same side? This is technically wrong.

The reason this is wrong is that you should be able to put your pattern together like a puzzle and get half of a garment. Fronts and backs face opposite sides so that you can line them up on the side seam. When I wanted to walk these two pieces so that I could add a notch, I had to turn one upside-down and work on the back. That was really annoying.

Walking patterns is really important for complicated pattern pieces, like this rectangular collar that goes onto a very curved neckline. To ensure that this collar fits correctly, I wanted to add notches on the bottom that would line up with the shoulder seam. To walk that line, I had to place all four of my bodice panels together, so that the collar was all in one place. Again, you can see how half my pieces are wrong side up, and that's just becuase that's how this designer made this pattern.

You'll also notice that, for notches, I clip an actual notch in the pattern paper. I'm using a special hole punch for this, but you can use all kinds of different things. You can just cut a slit in the paper, or use a pen or something to draw in your notch.

Anyway, there's a way to just give yourself a few clues about what's the proper side of things in this crazy world of patterns.

#20dollarlolita #sewing #sewing patterns #notches #it's gottahavenotchesandgrainlines yall

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strawbeerossi · 2 years ago

Text

Fearless

Pairing: Unsub!Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Part Description: Weeks after the incident with Cat and her death, Spencer is left with vivid dreams that make him question his job, his morals, and the path he took to protect the innocent.

Content Warnings: Coarse language, night terrors, mention of masturbation but nothing explicit, unsub!Spencer makes an appearance, violence, death, ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part one || Part two || Part three

Navigation || Masterlist || Request

Highly anticipated part three and the end of a very brief series. I’m confident it’s gonna leave y’all wanting more for the way I ended it soooo feel free to message/ask for scenarios and one shots regarding Unsub!Spence

Lightning strikes, lighting up the alley where Spencer had doubled over, hands on his knees while he took in a deep breath. Blood splatter was on the side of the abandoned brick building, a body slumped in place.

This wasn’t something that went according to plan, the feeling of rain soaking the suit stained with crimson. He didn’t know what came over him. It was like he was.. He was a shadow of his former self.

He enjoyed pressing the blade of the knife deep within his victim’s neck, the way blood managed to spurt onto his face. It gave him a rush, a hit of adrenaline that was stronger than any drug he could’ve done.

There was an awakening inside of him, a burn deep in his gut that was almost arousing. He didn’t have any erectile issues, so he was curious on how stabbing a man could bring out such animalistic feelings.

The man who made an oath to protect innocence, the man who worked for fifteen goddamn years of his life to rid the world of darkness now falling into a dangerous addiction that not even the BAU would be able to stop.

Spencer’s eyes were popping open, a thin veil of sweat covering his face as he was quickly sitting up on the bed, head tilting to the side to look over at the bright light of the alarm clock.

3 A.M.

His eyes were shifting over in the direction of the body in bed beside him, Y/N’s body stretched out as the moonlight was giving a pale light into the quiet bedroom. Spencer let his hands come up to rub his face tiredly.

Pulling the duvet off of himself, he was quietly getting out of bed. Last thing he needed was to wake his girlfriend up and be at the risk of being questioned. His feet were quietly shuffling on the carpeted floor in efforts to quietly get to the bathroom.

A shower won’t hurt.

These nightmares had been consistent for the past few weeks, ever since the incident with Y/N and Cat. Spencer had killed unsubs before, people who had given him no other choice. They always haunted him, a once young man who was struggling with facing the darkness of his career. As he got older, his empathy and emotions stayed intact.

Until he went to prison.

Prison made him have to survive in whatever means possible. He’d gotten beaten, he watched another inmate who became his friend have his throat slit in front of him, he was even tampering with a batch of drugs he had to distribute. He had to be strong, not show his fear or weakness.

When he found out that Cat was behind the absolute hell he endured, he wanted nothing more than to kill her. He wanted to watch the life drain from her eyes when he choked her to death, to have that smug bitch succumb to his bare hands. He wanted to outsmart her and win this whole game once and for all.

Well, he managed to do that, a bullet to the brain being something that he had to settle for. Instead of seeing her face, instead he was faced with yet another dilemma; Y/N. She was a murderer, darkness looming behind her sweet exterior. She lured men in, using her charm and sex appeal to catch them at their weakest. He’d learned it very early on in their relationship, it being too obvious.

No normal woman disappears at all hours of the night wearing the best clothes and looking like a delicate, beautiful doll. He let her do it, as horrible as it was. He loved her and refused to lose her, no matter what the circumstances would be. Prison was hell, he’d been there. He wouldn’t send the woman who he’d fallen in love with to the wolves. There was a sick part of him that loved it. Loved the idea of her brutality coming out with another man and then her quickly getting cleaned up to come home to him.

As he was recalling the night in question, Spencer sucked in a deep breath as he was turning on the shower head. He still couldn’t believe he’d killed Cat. He thought that it would haunt him, that the whole ordeal was going to be nothing but another bucket of trauma dumped in the bottomless pit in his brain.

However, it awakened something different inside of him. He loved that he killed her, he loved watching her body fall like dead weight, he loved the sight of the blood on his girlfriend's face as she looked at him in pure shock.

There was a low groan that left Spencer’s lips, cock hard at the thoughts of taking care of the one woman who tortured him for years. It took thirty minutes before his thick ropes of cum were going down the shower drain, his sins being washed away for the time being.

After cleaning himself up, it wasn’t long until he was quietly sneaking back into the bedroom. He didn’t bother with clothes, just sliding under the sheets while his gaze was on the alarm clock again.

4:25 A.M.

Insomnia was starting to set in. Six hours worth of sleep isn’t the worst thing.

The movement in the bed had the other body shifting under the sheets, a soft yawn leaving the woman’s lips as she was slowly rolling her body over to face her boyfriend. “Nightmares again?” She asked in a hushed tone, her soft touch bringing him out of his thoughts. “Yeah, you can say that.” He said softly while letting an arm drape around his girlfriend’s smaller frame.

“Mmm, I’m sorry.” She spoke softly, face nuzzling in his chest as her eyes were fluttering shut. She wasn’t aware of his urges and Spencer felt that was best. He’d warned her that he’d kill her himself if he found out she was going back to her old ways, yet here he was developing a thirst for blood that he couldn’t quench.

Spencer was a lot of things but a hypocrite wasn't one of them. At least, he liked to believe that to be the case.

The next few weeks were the same. Although the nightmares got more vivid, his blood lust worsening the itch became more urgent to scratch. He felt like he was losing his mind, the need overshadowing any form of reasoning.

That’s how he found himself here, at a bar. He told Y/N that he was going out with the guys for the night, the idea of sneaking behind her back to do the very thing he chastised her for made him feel a new rush.

Getting caught by the police wouldn’t happen but getting caught by Y/N; That could definitely be a possibility.

After years of being the good guy who caught the notorious serial killers who ruined lives, it was his turn to use every ounce of knowledge he had to avoid getting caught. He knew establishments that didn’t have cameras, even some where you can pay to remain anonymous.

He’d chosen a place where he could keep his anonymity, the woman at the front taking the payment and letting him through, not getting a name nor number. Spencer covered his bases, an oversized hoodie covering his head as he walked into the building. It was a bar, a dimly lit bar that was any murderer’s dream.

He had made it to the bar, ordering a drink for himself as his gaze was scanning over the faces in the bar. It was mostly men and women looking for affairs, there being another building down the street that offered rooms for the night. Now, Spencer couldn’t be seen in the area after they left, so he had his own plan. Tonight was going to be the night.

However, his mouth ran dry when he heard a familiar voice, head snapping over to see his girlfriend at the same bar. What the fuck? Did she learn nothing? Why was she here?

Like Spencer, his girlfriend had urges that needed to be fulfilled. She’d found out about this man in particular from police reports. She stalked him for weeks, learning his routine and secrets. That’s how she landed here tonight.

The couple briefly locked eyes, Y/N’s eyes widening from surprise as she was staring into the familiar honey colored irises. Instead of coming over to profusely apologize, a smirk was pulling onto her lips as she grabbed her drink from the bar while she was leaning over to the unknown man beside her, the two talking quietly amongst one another.

She’d giggle, put her hand on his upper arm, even lean in closer to whisper sweet nothings. There was a burning sensation inside of Spencer. There was jealousy and anger beginning to bubble over the surface. Was she doing this on purpose?

The male was pushing the glass he’d been nursing away as he approached his girlfriend and the man sitting beside her. There was a feeling of power that Spencer felt when he was heading over. “Hey, I noticed you two from across the bar.” He began, that awkward tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m not used to things like this but I was wondering if you two wanted to come with me to the next bar?”

Y/N was playing along, a gasp leaving her lips as she gripped the bicep of the black haired man beside her. “We should! Who doesn’t like making friends?” She asked, an eyebrow raising as she let her tongue run over her lower lip in a slow and deliberate motion.

Spencer wasn’t gonna do what she thought he was going to do. There was no way.

Like the idiot that this guy was, he was shrugging and agreeing to accompany the two to another bar. “It can’t be so bad, right?” He asked as he let an eyebrow raise, a smile on his face.

Oh. If he only knew.

The couple and the unsuspecting victim were heading out of the bar together, the woman letting her arm link with the attractive stranger’s beside her. The night brought a quiet atmosphere, the streets being empty. The side of town they were in wasn’t too sketchy but things happened there plenty of times.

As they were walking past an alley, Y/N and Spencer shared a glance; one where she was almost daring him to make a move. He took up the dare, quickly grabbing the male by his collar before shoving him against the brick wall closest to them. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to blindly trust strangers?” The woman spoke up while shaking her head in faux disappointment. “Sweetheart, you had such a promising chance!” She taunted while glancing up at Spencer, anticipating his next move.

While reaching into her bra, it wasn’t long until the woman was holding up a switchblade. “Are you gonna be a man or do I have to show you how to do this?” She taunted her boyfriend, smirking as his darkened eyes were focused on her. “You better watch your mouth or you’ll be the next one in this position.”

She should've been the one in this position. After all, she corrupted his mind. She made him push himself into being a man that he feared he would become, the woman being the driving influence of all of this stress and all of these violent thoughts.

As the blade was gripped in his hand, his knuckles were turning white. There was a small voice in the back of his mind begging him to be rational, however it was being overshadowed by the feeling of sheer power the moment that the blade punctured the skin.

“Stabbing someone thirty times would actually be quite tiring,” Spencer inferred, balling up his fist as he was hitting his thigh thirty times to emulate the stabbings in the intensity of the story told through the stab wounds. “You’re right. This would have worn anyone out.” Gideon agreed, the sheet being pulled back as they were inspecting the victim in front of them.

“The question is, what pushes someone to violence of this degree?” Elle was asking, her arms crossed as she was combing over any reasoning in her mind.

“We need to figure that out.” Jason stated as he was looking between the two young agents. “What causes a psychotic break?

Trauma. Anguish. Pain.

Fifty stabs and slashes did the trick for Spencer, the knife finally falling out of his hand the minute that the lifeless man was falling like a weight. Did he really just do that?

“Wow, Spence.” Y/N brought him out of his trance as she was bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “You said that I was brutal but look at-”

She was cut off as her body was being slammed up against the wall behind them, eyes widening. Although before she could plead for her case, she was cut off by a rough kiss, one that was enough to knock the wind out of her entirely. With his bloodied hands falling on he hips, the woman was letting her eyes flutter shut as their kissing got heavier, displaying a dark realization.

Spencer liked it.

As he kept her planted against the brick wall, he pulled from the kiss and let out a huff of air. “We need to go.” He murmured, stopping to pick up the knife he’d previously dropped before grabbing Y/N’s hand. It was only a matter of time before some drunk asshole was stumbling upon the dead body and he’d rather avoid the issue.

Running through the night, the two had intertwined fingers, laughter filling the quiet night air as the realization of their actions had set in.

The world had scarred Spencer for far too long, it was his turn to scar the world back. This was his chance to reclaim his power and strength after many years of having it slowly stripped away from him.

This was the start of his story.

This was his turn to act in self indulgence, to enjoy himself for what he liked.

The best part was?

He’d never get caught.

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dawnoftime22 · 9 months ago

Text

sensory.

| T.S

Warnings: slight sensory problems, self soothing by wearing accessories (watch, bracelet), and sitting on the floor

Summary: It was a planned date day for you and Taylor, but you had seemed off the entire day, until a realization comes across that you were missing something.

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: fluff, comfort

A/N: I am once more, not a professional, I'm only writing this from my own experience :]

| Started on 29/04/2024, 2:10 PM |

| Finished on 06/07/2024, 11:40 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

seven days of comfort.

"To be loved is to be cared for."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Sun streams into the room with the gentle look of the curtain lining, sending light in to illuminate the glass vases that held any flowers, a beautifully mixed bunch given from you to Taylor, or from her to you.

You let out an exhilarated sigh, staring up at the living room ceiling. Your arm hung off the side of the couch, and the other was on your stomach.

As you count the ceiling lights, you feel the air entering your lungs when you take a deep breath in, and you let it out as a slow exhale. Something was off. But you couldn't place on what it was. Yet, no amount of deep breaths could help you relax.

You felt too light. Almost...too free. The wind touching your skin was too cold, but if you covered yourself up with a blanket or jacket, it would be too warm.

Your hand ran over your face, bothered by it all. Even the urge to simply roll over the couch would not fix the problem. Oh well. You definitely did not do that, but you did roll to your side, your eyes searching the entire room.

The tv on the wall was on, playing an animal documentary. It showed videos of orcas, penguins, lions, and toucans. It got you transfixed upon it for a few minutes, but then you had started trailing off your gaze to your hands, or the small patterns on the wood of the coffee table.

You take a look to the windows, but then saw the absolute brightness of them from the sunlight, so you grimaced and squinted your eyes, quickly looking away from it.

The black spots that scattered on your vision from being blinded needed to be blinked away, and you focus on the floor instead, a small huff escaping you.

Once you got your vision back to normal, you were back in reality. It was then, you realized another thing. It was awfully quiet. The space was only filled up by the commentary on the tv, explaining the description and facts of a sea turtle.

Not that you hated it, you just couldn't focus on anything specific, and it frustrated you. You weren't even bored, it was just...like you were floating. In a bad way. Every position you change into on the couch wasn't enough to satisfy a comfortable feeling either.

Meanwhile, Taylor was in the bedroom, getting ready for your date, sincr it was getting nearer to the time you both had planned for. You already got ready after breakfast, so now you were only waiting for her.

One of the cats, Meredith, jumps up to the couch, curling up next to you. You raise your eyebrows curiously and props yourself up in a sitting position using your arm, seeing Benjamin over by the edge of the carpet, perhaps having been asking her to play with him. But Meredith craved some laziness more than playfulness, so she joins you.

Olivia? Olivia was nowhere to be seen, but she could very well possibly be in one of the other rooms, or in the bedroom with Taylor.

You reach out your hand, and the cat's nose goes near it, sniffing it lightly before you were accepted to pet her. The fur was soft. So soft. Now this, this could be something you can do forever without breaking focus, but that could be because it didn't really need any at all.

Since the couch was starting to make your body ache, you decided to switch to sitting down on the floor. Your back goes against the couch, and your legs moved into a comfortable position.

When you've settled yourself down, your hand reaches up to pet Meredith again, but now it was a stretch to reach her. The scottish fold also didn't seem to move from her current position, so you gave up on trying to pet her again.

In your luckiness though, Benjamin came to save you with his black brown-ish ears by padding over to you and flopping on the floor in front of you, his floof of a belly in visible view.

He gratefully took the way your hand gently ran through his soft fur, and he presses his head into your palm when you got closer to it. The action lightened your heart, and you smile softly, for once getting some type of relief from what you seemed to be missing.

As you were caught up with Benjamin and his fluffy body, over in the distance of your bedroom, Taylor had finished getting ready. Her steps were quiet as she went into the living room, in search for you.

Her eyebrows furrowed when she didn't see you on the couch or the kitchen, a little curiosity setting off in her, but just as she set her arms on the back of the couch, she finds you sitting on the floor, your hand in Benjamin's fur.

Finding such a sweet sight had warmed her heart, and her lips raise up as she gazes at you. You didn't know she was there at all, and you were utterly adoring the little cat, your touch gentle as it purred.

Taylor sees the tv being on, the animal documentary still present upon the screen. She blinks and trails her eyes back down to you, the smallest worry swelling in her heart. She knew you mostly only kept it on when you really needed it in the struggle of anxiety, or wanted comfort, but she decides to not question it for now.

The gentle rattle of some keys led you to turn and look behind you. In your vision, appears the blonde you were waiting for. You could see the softness her gaze holds, just the same as the one you held on the cat you're petting, which now had its eyes closed.

"You ready, or do we have to grab Benjamin with us?" Taylor asks, a giggle softly sounding out from her as she pushes herself away from the couch.

A bright smile quickly raises up on your face and you giggled too, moving to stand up, needing to reluctantly leave Benjamin laying on the floor, who was quite possibly descending slowly into a nap.

You bit your lip, taking one last look at Benjamin before going to your girlfriend. "...Buut...can we sneak him into the restaurant?" You ask, making your way to her. Taylor's eyes flicker from Benjamin's sleepy pose, then to you, a smile gracing her lips.

She shook her head gently, "No, baby," she chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as she looks at the cat once more. "And he'd be more comfortable here."

You hum softly, your gaze lingering, before you bury your face in her shoulder and your arms wrap around her waist in a side hug. The nuzzle she felt was gentle, but it was one for comfort.

She stares down for a moment, unable to see your face. But her expression had faded into a gentle look of concern. A small somber hum from you like that wasn't something she could just ignore.

It couldn't be because of Benjamin, since you were usually fine with having the cats at home unless it was a big trip or vacation. But today was just a date out. And she couldn't help but let her eyes wander on the tv that showed the animals.

There were currently penguins on the screen, sliding across ice and waddling on the snow, and as much as she wanted to look at it or point it out to you, she can feel your pout in her shoulder, and she instinctively wraps her arms around you, looking down at you.

"...Hey...you okay?" she whispers softly just above your ear, her hand rubbing up and down your arm. You fiddle with her shirt, your fingers brushing across the fabric. Taylor's mind takes note of it, and she tilts her head, peeking at your eyes that didn't seem to make eye contact.

You start off in a hushed, quiet tone. "I don't know...I just feel so..." You trail off, trying to find the words to it. But there was not a single word that could describe it. You simply felt off.

Your shoulders tensed and you let out a breath. "I can't describe it." The slump in your stance against her was a clear sign of your defeat at trying to explain. Her eyes soften, and she smiles gently, her hand continuing its soothing motion.

Now, as her eyes trail over your appearance to figure out what was wrong, she starts to notice something. You were indeed missing something. Your hands were empty of any accessories you'd usually wear. Or any part of you, really.

It seems you had gotten entirely too focused on waking up and being on time for the date, that you had completely forgotten to grab your usual things. No wonder you couldn't see why you felt off. You hadn't even realized it yet.

Taylor thinks about it for a moment, but doesn't tell you just yet. Her hand on your arm goes down to your wrist, feeling it to be empty and seeing it being, yes, indeed bare of anything when she pulls back.

She breathes out a chuckle. It was simply a silly situation, but she leans down and kisses the top of your head as you look up at her, confused as to what made her huff out a laugh.

Your wireless headphones; She had seen you charge it last night, and your watch was left on the nightstand. She smiles softly, then led you to the front of the couch, having you sit down.

"Wait here," Taylor says, giving your hand a squeeze before walking off back to the bedroom, leaving you blinking at her vagueness.

You waited patiently, yet curiously, your eyes traveling to the doorway of your bedroom, but the wall was concealing what she was grabbing, so, instead you watched Benjamin sleeping until she came back.

The wooden floorboards of your home gently creaks when Taylor comes back, walking towards you with just a few footsteps, her heart light with love and care.

"Here, love," she said quietly, standing in front of you. In her hands, she reveals that she had brought you your watch, your headphones, and some...friendship bracelets?

She held your items carefully, making sure they don't fall. Your eyes widen in realization at the sight, and her smile grows wider, glad that the problem came to light easily.

"Oh...thank you," you whispered, looking up at her gratefully and grabbing them one by one, wearing your watch first, making sure it was on correctly. Not too loose, but not too tight.

She watches as you slide on the bracelets, and you notice each of them have a different tightness or heaviness to them, so you had a way of choosing which one you wanted on your wrist, or none at all, to which she didn't mind whichever you chose, only wanting you to be comfortable.

When you moved your hand, it made a light and quiet sound of the bracelets hitting each other, and you were in absolute awe, your mouth opening as you look at your wrist in surprise, then to Taylor, who giggled at the sight of you now moving your hand up and down to hear the light clinks. You had tried the bracelets before, but it was only one of them, so it wasn't much of a surprise.

She moves her hand up to the bracelets, hovering right over it as you pause your movements. She looks to you to see you smiling at her, and she continues on with her movement, her finger stretching one of the bracelets slightly, just enough so that the string keeping the beads together was visible, and she shows that you can slide the beads across the string; a small bonus fidget of sort with the accessory.

You, on the other hand gasped again. Taylor pulls her hands away, letting you try it out. The beads did slide across the string when you stretched the bracelet, and would go to whichever side you tilted it to.

Then, the headphones, she helped you by putting your hair back from your ears and placing it on your head. She makes sure it was connected to your phone afterwards, putting on some gentle music. Nothing too loud or upbeat in case it would interfere.

Taylor checks on your face, and sees how its grown brighter, your grounding items being rightfully back to where they belonged. You were adjusting things here and there, but she was happy you were feeling like yourself again.

She also had given you your earphones for a choice, just in case the headphones on your head felt like it was putting too much pressure. Your heart was almost about to burst at the amount of care and thought she gave to you.

"Feeling better?" she asks with a gentle gaze. Her hands were now on your shoulders as she smiles, hoping you can ease back into the world again.

You nodded gently, and relief flows into her that she was right. You always needed something to keep ahold of you, to steady you, and have you grounded for anything that could easily poke your nerves. Which is why you always took them off during nighttime; for the sake of letting go and to melt into being relaxed. But you forgot to put them back on this morning.

You smile back at her, speaking up again for once. "...I love you," you whispered, gently moving to pull her into a slow hug with your arms wrapped around her waist.

She feels the fuzzy loving feeling grow in herself, her arms going up to your shoulders to return the embrace. "I love you, too, sweetheart." She replied back, having just as much softness as you did. Her lips meet the top of your head in a loving kiss, hoping it'll help calm you down further.

"Are you ready to go, or do you wanna stay?" she asks softly, pulling back just slightly to look at you, her eyes searching yours in case you still felt like you needed to relax.

"It's okay if you wanna stay, love." She said quietly, caressing your cheek with the back of her hand. You were about to melt into a pool of puddle right in front of her with her touch and gentle voice.

"Of course, I'm going...its date day..." You say, and Taylor's eyes squeeze in happiness with her smile. You mirror her expression, moving up to kiss her on the cheek.

She smiles even wider and returns the gesture softly, her lips lingering before she gently pulls you up to stand next to her an lead you to the front door.

"Just tell me if you need anything else, okay?" She says, glancing back at you as you follow her. She holds the keys in her hand, ready to lock the front door once you were out and open the car.

"I will, baby," you whisper, your gaze on her gentle as you look at her with pure adoration, your heart full with love for her.

In the car, on the way to the date, You gently play with the bracelets in your passenger seat, seatbelt buckled in and Taylor driving steadily.

Taylor looks over to your side when she could, seeing the movement. She smiles softly, glad they could elicit some kind of comfort for you, especially since one of them was actually given by a fan, and one was made by her.

The date goes on without another problem, only with loving conversations and soft laughter.

---------------------

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