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bbyleiah · 1 year ago

Text

smoke you out.

| just a random cheating fic I wrote about Eren stealing Connie’s girl 🫣 |

Cw: smut, cheating, bf!Connie, lots of dirty talk (eren has a filthy mouth 🫦) dry humping, riding, biting, sorta mating press, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, tummy bulge, hair pulling, scratching, fluids, pet names, etc. fem! shy sub reader & dom!Eren. (pretty good amount of plot though ☝🏽) (also it may not seem like it but the reader is def black 😭)

word count : long asf 😭

sn : I don’t know a single thing abt smoking fr so my apologies if the lingo is inaccurate 😭

part 2 🤩 : breakfast <3

You tripped over your little feet as you tried to keep up with your boyfriend Connie. He didn’t pay you any mind at all as he dapped up his friends at this house party gathering. Your feet were starting to hurt in your cute Mary Jane shoes. As you tripped, Eren caught your arm before you could embarrassingly fall on your face.

You sheepishly looked up at the tall, clearly high male. “sorry..” You muttered softly. “You’re good, little one.” Eren hummed as he let you go. You blushed and scurried off, finding your boyfriend again. He was finally not moving anymore, sitting in the kitchen with all his homies, smoking and drinking.

You honestly hated when he dragged you to these parties because it really wasn’t your kind of environment, and it wasn’t like he stayed by your side or made you feel welcome at these gatherings. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like Connie could care less about you with the way he ignored you and constantly forgot about you. But it was also confusing because he was super overprotective and possessive of you at times.

You were just his obedient pretty little girlfriend that followed him around but that role was getting tiring. despite disliking these parties, all of Connie’s friends always made you feel safe and welcomed so it wasn’t too bad. You stood quietly beside Connie, drinking water and fanning second hand smoke away from your face as he enjoyed his time with his friends.

His friends acknowledged you occasionally which was nice, but everytime you tried to talk to Connie he’d dismiss you or give half ass replies. You sighed and gave up eventually until you had to use the restroom. “Con, can you walk me to the bathroom please?” You asked him sweetly as you tugged on his sleeve. “Eh, why can’t you go by yourself princess?” He asked as he directed his attention towards you.

“Because I feel uncomfortable going alone with all these people I don’t know..” You told him, you felt like your stance was valid. Connie sighed, “I get that but you should be fine baby, everyone knows you’re my girl so I doubt they’ll bother you.” Connie said as he took another hit from his blunt. You pouted, “But..” you started but Eren interjected. “I’ll walk with her.” He offered.

“Look at that sweetheart, you got yourself a volunteer. Thanks bro.” Connie chuckled. You huffed softly and rolled your eyes at Connie’s nonchalant attitude, you honestly would rather just walk alone at this point. But you made your way through the crowd of people with Eren and up the stairs.

“thank you for walking with me even though you didn’t have to.” You said gratefully to Eren with a sigh, sulking a bit still over Connie and his lack of care for you. “No problem. I know Connie can be a dickhead sometimes.” Eren shrugged honestly. Your eyes widened at his words as you stared up at him. Eren chuckled at your reaction, “What? he’s my bestfriend. I can freely insult him. Just as he’d do to me. It’s all love you know?” Eren chuckled.

“I guess..I’d never insult Connie though. He’s a great boyfriend even though he has his faults.” You defended, Eren snorted in amusement. “Whatever makes your pretty head feel better.” He shrugged. You used the restroom and to your surprise Eren waited outside the door for you the whole time. “I-..you didn’t have to wait for me.” You stammered. “What’s the point of walking you if I don’t wait on you also?. I don’t mind it.” He said.

He had a point to be fair. “true..thanks again though.” You said. As you two began to walk again, you stumbled once more, these shoes were really starting to be your enemy. “You okay?” Eren asked you. “Yeah, these shoes are just a little uncomfortable.” You sighed as you tried to adjust the shoes.

Eren observed you before he suddenly picked you up, you yelped in shock, eyes going wide as you hit Eren’s shoulder. “Eren! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed. “Relax, I’m just tryna help” He said as he carried you back into the bathroom. He sat you down on the countertop and sat down in front of you before grabbing your foot gently.

He slipped off your shoe and that’s when you saw the bleeding bruise on the back on your heel. “Oh..” you mumbled. “You didn’t notice this until now? Wasn’t it painful?” Eren asked as he looked up at you. “It was..but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You muttered honestly. Eren sighed, “You should be more careful, or buy more comfortable shoes.” Eren said as he began to clean the blood. You hissed at the sting and kicked Eren by accident, he didn’t budge though, focused on treating you.

This was such an odd predicament you were in. Eren had paid more attention to you in a few minutes than your boyfriend did in months. You didn’t know why Eren was being so caring to you but you were soaking it up since you lacked it lately. “I would’ve worn my comfy shoes if I knew I was gonna be chasing Connie around again..” You muttered with a sigh.

Eren didn’t comment on that. You just observed Eren as he treated both of your heels. You never noticed his full appearance until now, his low bun with loose hairs framing his face, his low red eyes and sculpted nose, his black sweats and black tee combo with a small chain, the small studs in his ears. Eren was gorgeous to say the least. “Don’t look at me like that or I’ll do something bad and you’ll regret it more than me little one.” Eren said as he gently placed some bandaids he’d found on your bruises.

You were caught off guard by his words, starting to blush. “I-I didn’t mean to stare so much..I’m sorry.” You said as you hid your face in your hands out of embarrassment. Eren chuckled and pulled your hands away, “It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t mind you staring, but I meant what I said. I don’t have much self control.” Eren hummed as he stared into your eyes, his hand caressing your calf making you squirm a little.

“I uhm..” You truly didn’t know how to respond, chewing on your lip as you struggled to find words. Something about Eren’s vague words and the way he looked at you made you feel weird, the energy didn’t seem appropriate. “We should get back with the others.” You managed to say. Eren chuckled, “You’re right…or we could ditch them and hang out? I prefer smoking privately anyways. I could smoke you out real good too.” Eren suggested with a sly grin.

You stared at Eren in shock again, “Connie would kill me! Also I don’t smoke much.” You blurted. “He’s not even worried about you. plus you’re with me, his bestfriend and he trusts me. You seem like you have a low tolerance so I can still smoke you out even if you don’t smoke much” Eren hummed.

You chewed on your lip again as you pondered wether to accept Eren’s offer. Everything he said was right, and you knew Connie wasn’t looking for you or even thinking about you at the moment. You also knew that you’d be miserable following Connie around more. “okay, I’ll go with you. but let Connie know, I don’t want him thinking anything weird.” You said.

Eren subtly rolled his eyes, “sure, I’ll inform your master” Eren teased. “Hey! He’s not my master!” You huffed with a pout. Eren laughed, “You follow him like a little puppy though. You know I should start calling you pup, has a nice ring to it.” Eren only teased more, laughing harder when you kicked him this time on purpose. “I’m just loyal to my boyfriend.” You muttered with another huff as you crossed your arms.

“I get it. I’ll stop teasing. Let’s go little one.” Eren chuckled as he helped you down from the countertop. You slipped your shoes back on and then you and Eren left and made your way to his car. Eren wasn’t planning on informing Connie of shit, he felt like it was none of Connie’s business what you two were up to, to be honest.

He only told a small lie so he didn’t feel too bad about it. Once y’all got into his black vintage mustang, Eren turned on the radio, rnb starting to play lowly in the background as Eren began to roll up. “You smoke papers sweetheart?” Eren asked as he grinded his weed. You stared at him completely clueless, “…I don’t know, what’s papers? I just smoke whatever Connie gives me.” You said honestly.

Eren chuckled, “These are papers, they’re white. They aren’t brown like rellos. I smoke joints, not blunts. Although I don’t mind either. Also don’t say no shit like that ever again, don’t just smoke whatever is given to you. Make sure it’s safe first and that you know exactly what it is.” Eren said seriously suddenly. You pouted, feeling like you just got scolded a little. “I trust Connie though..but I get what you mean. I’ll take your advice.” You said, understanding his point.

“Good Girl. You can watch me and see exactly what you’ll be smoking and all the steps.” Eren hummed. Your brain short-circuited a bit at the sudden praise, hearing Eren say that felt nice..really nice and it made you want to hear it more. Those feelings felt wrong though so you pushed them away. You watched Eren closely as he rolled up; placing the grinded weed into the papers, setting it straight and then running his tongue along the seams before closing the joint.

You unconsciously clenched your thighs seeing Eren lick the joint, you didn’t know why a sight you’d seen many times suddenly seemed so attractive. “You have a tongue piercing?!” You blurted after spotting the little ball. Eren chuckled, “I do, got it a few years back. You must’ve been paying real close attention to notice that” Eren teased a little.

“I wasn’t looking that hard!” You defended yourself as you blushed slightly. Eren laughed, “You’re so damn cute, fuck.” Eren said while shaking his head as he laughed. Your eyes went wide at that comment, now blushing a lot. It was extremely flattering hearing that from someone as attractive as Eren and it made you shy.

You composed yourself though, trying to act as if the small compliment didn’t effect you as much as it did. “Did it hurt when you got it?” You asked him out of curiosity, going back on topic. You watched as Eren placed the joint between his lips, lighting it with his lighter, the flame casting a glow on his face and highlighting his features.

He inhaled, holding it for a few seconds before he exhaled with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. It was honestly the most mouthwatering sight you’d ever witnessed. Suddenly you had zero thoughts, just solely focused on Eren. “Mhm, it hurt but mostly during the healing process. I like pain though so I didn’t mind it.” Eren hummed.

His words broke you out of your sudden trance. “You like pain? That’s weird.” You said, not fully understanding how someone could enjoy pain. Eren chuckled, “Eh, it feels good. To me at least.” He said as he handed the joint to you. You tried to take a hit, immediately going into an embarrassing coughing fit. “That’s not how you do it sweetheart, you’re too harsh with it, relax I’ll help you.” Eren laughed softly.

Eren then grabbed the joint from your hands and held it up to your mouth. “Open.” He instructed, humming in approval once you listened. He gently placed the joint between your lips, holding it there. “Close and inhale slowly.” He continued. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes as Eren guided you step by step. This wasn’t your first time smoking at all but you liked how attentive Eren was, you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hold it.” Eren hummed as he pulled the joint from between your lips. “Now exhale slowly.” He said, pressing his fingers into your slightly puffed out cheeks as you obediently exhaled the smoke into his face. “Good girl, such a good listener.” Eren praised again with a small grin as he gently stroked your chin, underneath your bottom lip.

You almost let out a whine at that, Eren’s words and his presence was starting to affect you more and more by the hour. You were trying your best to ignore it but you wanted him so badly that it was getting hard to contain. “What did I say about looking at me like that?. Little one..it’s like you’re trying to tempt me.” Eren said, his eyes low and holding a look that seemed as if he wanted to tear you apart.

Truth be told, Eren always wanted you. He always had his eye on you ever since Connie brought you around. He knew that he paid more attention to you than Connie ever did and that he could treat you better. But you were always glued to Connie so Eren never made any moves. He knew it was kinda fucked up to be interested in his bestfriend’s girl but he couldn’t care less. He was no better than Connie to be honest.

“I-I’m not! I don’t mean to look at you like that..I don’t even know how I’m looking at you.” You fumbled over your words as you blushed brightly. “You’re looking at me as if you want me to fuck the shit out of you. Is that what you want sweetheart? Want to feel me in your tummy?” Eren said, continuing to smoke nonchalantly as he stared at you. You whined at his lewd words, your thighs squeezing together.

“Don’t talk like that! that’s inappropriate, and I’m with Connie.” You exclaimed. Eren rolled his eyes, “I don’t need the reminder, I know that. You say it’s inappropriate but you’re clenching your thighs and whining like a slut at the thought of me inside you. You want it so badly, don’t you?. Want me to stuff your little cunt?” Eren teased.

You let out another whine, you were honestly so wet by now at his words. You felt so ashamed that you wanted another man, especially the man that was closest to your boyfriend. “eren…we can’t..” you muttered, tears filling your eyes as you pouted up at him. “shh, it’s okay little one. don’t think about Connie just for a minute and answer me. Do you want me?” Eren asked as he cupped your face gently.

You chewed on your lip as you nodded honestly in response. “Use your words for me baby.” Eren hummed as he lightly pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb. You let out a shaky breath, “I do want you…so badly.” you finally admitted truthfully as you looked into Eren’s eyes. He grinned hearing that. “I want you too baby, more than you even know. You wanna sit on my cock?” Eren hummed.

You nodded and basically pounced on him, as if you hadn’t had any restrictions about this whole thing at all. You suddenly didn’t care anymore as you climbed onto Eren’s lap, straddling him as the two of you began to kiss messily and needily. Eren gripped your hips as you began to grind down on him like you were in heat, whining and whimpering into his mouth.

You sucked on Eren’s tongue, making him groan and buck his hips up into yours. You were so wet that a wet spot was already starting to form on Eren’s sweats. “please~” You whined as you broke the kiss, your small hands tugging at the strings to Eren’s sweatpants eagerly. “you can go ahead baby” Eren hummed as he left opened mouth kisses on your neck.

You untied his sweats and pulled them down, his hard cock coming out dribbling precum. He was so big, veins running along the sides of his cock. You wanted to drool at the sight. Eren bunched your skirt up around your waist, pushing your panties aside before he began to run his tip up and down your slit. You were a whining mess, your thighs trembling already from how sensitive and needy you were.

“so fucking whiny and wet. You’re already soaking my cock pretty baby and I’m not even inside you yet.” Eren gritted out. You only whimpered in response, your nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. Eren positioned himself and pushed the tip in, letting you sink down onto his cock as the both of you moaned in unison.

“so big…” you whined shakily as Eren bottomed out. “Mhm, you feel me in your tummy baby?” Eren asked as he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing on the bulge imprint his dick made. you moaned at the feeling and nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as your pussy gushed around Eren’s cock. “fuck..” he swore under his breath.

Once you adjusted you began to ride Eren, bouncing on his cock effortlessly as you moaned and whined nonstop. Eren was just as noisy as you were, groaning into your neck as he licked and bit at your skin. “n-no marks ‘ren” you managed to stutter out in your already fucked out state. Eren didn’t like the sound of that at all, growling in response. He understood why you said that but he just didn’t care.

“You’re mine and I’ll mark you as much as I want to. Because to be quite honest sweetheart I don’t give two fucks about your little relationship.” Eren said honestly as he began to suck harsh bruises onto your neck. You whined, Eren’s words were shocking to you but they also turned you on so much that you couldn’t even bother to fight against it. Your fingers tangled in Eren’s hair as he marked you up like he had something to prove, sinking his teeth into you and making you hiss in pain.

“hurts~” You whimpered, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure of Eren’s dick hitting your sweet spot at just the right angle and because of the stinging pain. “I know baby” Eren hummed as he ran his tongue along the bite marks and bruises to soothe the sting. “Feel so good around me sweet girl, should’ve fucked you sooner.” Eren moaned as he fucked up into you, matching your pace.

Eren bit his lip as he looked at where your bodies connected, the white ring around his cock and the amount of slick coating his trimmed pubic hairs. “shit..I don’t think I’m ever gonna pull out.” Eren muttered, mesmerized by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his thick cock. By now the car reeked of sex and weed, the windows were all fogged up, the radio was still playing sensual rnb tunes lowly in the background but you and eren had tuned it out at this point and neither of you had a clue what time it was.

“you gonna let me cum inside you baby?” Eren asked as he began to rub circles into your clit making you cry out in pleasure, your seamless bouncing stuttering a bit. “you shouldn’t..” You whined as you finally opened and focused your glazed over eyes enough to look at Eren. He looked delicious, his hair damp and the strands sticking to his forehead, his bun a complete mess from your constant tugging.

His lips swollen and red from the kissing and his work of marking you, your nails marks on his neck and shoulder blades, his pupils dilated and his eyes dazed. You couldn’t look away from him. “Mm, I shouldn’t but I want to so so badly. Wanna fill you up so good princess. You want that don’t you?” Eren said as he kissed your cheeks and pecked your lips. His sweet gentle kisses and tone of voice was such a contrast to how his dick was abusing your cervix and how his hands were gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

It was making your mind all hazy and it wasn’t helping that your orgasm was approaching, that coil in your stomach tightening as Eren played with your clit. “I do wan’ it, want you to fill me up. Please~” You whined, your words slurring as you rocked your hips and clutched Eren’s shirt between your hands. The lewd wet sound of skin slapping and your combined moans filled the car. You looked even more fucked out than Eren did.

Thighs coated in both of your fluids, drool at the corner of your lips, eyes rolled and fluttering, head titled back with your hair sticking to you, hickies and bites covering your neck and collarbone, dried tears on your cheeks, clothes disheveled. Eren thought you looked beautiful and he was completely enamored by you. “fuck, you’re perfect. I’m gonna fill you up so full baby and I’m gonna make you mine. Fuck Connie.” Eren rambled as he fucked up into you.

Eren repositioned his arms underneath your knees, holding you up and sitting himself up further as he folded your legs up and pressed you against the steering wheel. the steering wheel pressing into your back was a bit uncomfy but the new angle Eren was fucking you in was heavenly, had you seeing stars. You don’t think you had ever been fucked this good, not even by your own boyfriend.

“m’ gonna cum~” You whined out, sobbing in pleasure and scratching down Eren’s back underneath his shirt as you felt your orgasm about to burst. “you can cum sweet girl, make a big mess for me.” Eren hummed as he placed kisses on your chest and boobs. Eren’s own orgasm was approaching too, his thrusts getting more uncoordinated and rougher as he chased it.

After a few more thrusts of Eren hitting that spot that made your toes curl, and the friction of his pubic hairs rubbing up against your clit you came with a loud moan of Eren’s name. Squirted all over him as your pussy clenched and unclenched around Eren’s cock. Eren groaned at the feeling, his eyes rolling back as he fucked you through your orgasm. “shitt sweetheart. so fucking messy, fuck!” Eren moaned as you soaked him in your climax.

It didn’t take long after for Eren to cum after you, whimpering into your neck as he filled you up with ropes and ropes of his cum. Eren hadn’t cum this much in his life, stuffing you to the brim as some of it poured out the seams. Eren’s thrusts slowed and he eased back into a proper seating position with you still sitting on his dick, twitching and whining as you were completely fucked out.

Eren took a moment to breathe and process the situation and you had dozed off, completely exhausted as you fell into a deep sleep on top of Eren. You looked so peaceful and cute it made Eren grin and he couldn’t help but to sneakily snap a picture of you before pecking your forehead. Eren checked the time and realized you two had been at it for almost three hours. It was 4 in the morning now.

“Jesus..you milked me dry little one.” Eren muttered while shaking his head. Eren started the car back up and began to drive, not bothering to move you or to pull out since he didn’t want to wake you. Eren knew he fucked up by sleeping with Connie’s girl but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single second of it.

#eren x reader #connie x you #eren #fanfic #eren smut #pwp fics #aot fanfiction #aot #aot x you #x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren aot #smut #eren x black reader smut #aot x black reader #Connie #connie x black reader

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pedge-page · 5 months ago

Note

High reader x high Joel unf hell yeah we love some intox kink

New Heights

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: ya girl has never been high, never smoked da weeds, so sorry if whatever lingo i'm using is totally inaccurate.

Warnings: FWB, unprotected sex, slight manipulative Joel, weed, smoking, drugs (?), intoxicated, cheating, dub con if you squint, Joel's pretty shady and takes advantage of reader

18+ ONLY

- - - -

His hands feel even better on you now that you’ve removed your tattered jeans and top. And with the way he’s gazing at you, with his half lidded yet dilated eyes and permanent curl to his plush sinful lips, it couldn’t just be from the shit ton of weed you two just smoked.

“You roll them better than I ever did,” he cough as he flicks his own spent joint to the tray on the table, his arm wrapped securely around your lower back so you don’t even consider whether he’ll knock you off. He settles back against the couch and resumes watching you, stroking your soft skin up and down with his tough knuckles.

Joel prides himself on being your best friend since high school. He’s always had your back, whether from boys you were dating, high stress customers at work, or even less than ideal familial situations, Joel Miller was the remedy.

Course, when he first convinced your stuck up ass to get high, he didn’t expect you to strip to your underwear and bra and sit on his lap to take a nap.

Since then, he’s been chasing that high from you any time you ‘drop by’.

“Be honest,” you hum, sifting your fingers through his hair as he takes another drag. “Did Tommy tell you I was in town?”

“Nope,” he lies casually. He rolls his tongue over his lower lip while squishing your tits in your push up bra. “Just had a feelin’ you’d be here.”

“Mhm.” You tilt your head back and breathe in the heavily fogged air. Sober you would be hesitant to have your panty clad crotch on top of Joel’s whopping bulge. But as your thoughts slow, simplify, you can’t deny: he’s got a pretty tent.

“How’s the boyfriend?”

Rolling you eyes, you lean forward, putting both arms next to his ears to rest atop the couch headrest. He doesn’t lose your gaze. Normal eye to eye contact when you’re just nose kisses apart would be so fucking weird if not completely wasted, and if not for Joel, who’s got such a different aura when he’s like this.

Or maybe it’s when you’re like this.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

“That bad, huh?”

“I wouldn’t be here if it was all great.”

“Mmm.” His eyes briefly cast down top your supply pouty lips then back up. If your boyfriend were any threat to him, he’d bother to remember the dumb fuck’s name. But if you’re still climbing up to him for a little session in his lap over and over again, he’s got nothing to worry about. “S’alright. Like it when not all is great. Get to spend more time with ya.”

You tilt your head to the side and grin. “Then kiss me.”

He blows the smoke into your mouth just as your tongues collide. All of your senses are simultaneously elevated and dulled. You’re a little more out of It then he is, which makes it easier, for his fingers to lightly trace along your bra and unclasp the band from behind, your straps falling effortlessly while you’re glued to his tongue. You pull back with a groan, eyes fluttering close as Joel cups both your breasts in his big hands and massages them.

“You like it when I take care of ya needs.”

“Yeahhh,” you sigh contently, getting lost in his expert touch.

Laying back slightly, with your palms propped on his knees, you can’t help but roll your hips, your clothed core rubbing along his bulge. With his tongue caught curled between his teeth, he stares, hypnotized, as one finger hooks in the line of your cute cotton underwear and tugs it up, pulling it taught right between your folds.

He sits forward quickly, unzipping his pants. “Let me put it in this time,” he breathes into your neck, kissing your pulse gently.

Your judgement feels more cloudy than normal, but it doesn’t seem to be having lasting effects on Joel.

“Joel, I don’t—I don’t know.” Your arm secures itself over his shoulders and back as he grinds his lap up into you with slight fervor.

“I’ll make it good, I promise.” He plants his soft wet lips atop your tits. “Always make it good for ya, don’t I?”

You nod in agreement over his shoulder just as he tugs his length free from his pants.

Despite your hesitation and trust in his words, Joel’s gotta remind his more sober self to not get too ahead of himself. He rubs his tip along your slicked entrance, biting down his growls. But when you purr so pretty in his lap, so pliant and open minded to any of his suggestions, he can’t help but want to rush you ahead.

You gasp when he slides his cock into your tight walls.

“J-Joel,” you whine. You begin to pull away, the sesation of his member splitting you open suddenly making the dog dissipate in your mind.

But he soothes it all over when he captures your lips again. You visibly settle in his slap, effectively sliding him deeper into you until he’s filling you to the brim, balls snuggly twitching against your lower ass cheeks.

“Don’t go back to him,” he rasps. the bridge of his nose nudges your cheek, urging you to listen only to him. “Stay. Stay with me this time.”

You nod again, this time seeking his lips yourself. He rocks you back and forth steadily on his dick.

Maybe the little extra something he put in your stash will stick in your mind by tomorrow morning, and for as long as he can hold on to you. - - - -

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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

Note

i sent the marauders question, tysm for answering :) could i request reader being embarrassed about her stutter and getting reassurance or maybe ordering at a restaurant? your writing always makes my day - thank you for doing it!

Thank you for requesting lovely!! I based the way I wrote this on a friend I had with a stutter, but that was some years ago so if it's inaccurate please let me know <3

cw: reader experiences anxiety/insecurity around stuttering

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 817 words

Remus can feel the tension radiating from you before the waitress even stops at your table. Your knee starts bouncing lightly.

“Hi, are we ready to order?” She glances between you, and Remus lets you nod for the both of them. “Perfect!”

Her eyes go to you, but you turn to Remus, a desperate look in your eyes. He clears his throat.

“Um, may I have the chocolate crepe?” he asks. The waitress blinks, refocusing on him.

“Sure, with bacon or sausages?”

“Sausages, please.”

“Alright. And for you, love?”

Your jaw is already tight, an anticipatory act Remus recognizes. He sets a hand on your knee under the table. You stop jiggling it, taking in a subtle breath.

“May I please have the b…blueberry p…p…” Remus glances at the waitress. There’s new awareness in her expression, but otherwise it reads of nothing but patience. He rubs the side of your leg, and you try again. “Can I have the blueberry p…”

Your hands have started to shake. Remus gives your knee an encouraging squeeze, but it’s no use. You look to him, a silent plea in your eyes.

“The blueberry pancakes,” he says to your waitress.

“Sounds good,” she says easily. “Short or tall stack?”

Remus looks at you, but you’ve turned your head down towards your menu.

“Tall,” he says. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She gathers up your menus. You don’t look up. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

He waits until she’s well out of earshot to take your hand in his. It’s still trembling gently, like a butterfly flittering against his palm.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly. “Hey, you’re okay.”

You shake your head, angling your body towards his and away from the rest of the restaurant. He’s glad when you look at him, though the shame in your expression has spiderweb cracks spreading across his heart.

“I’m s…so emb…b—” Your eyes pinch shut, and you blow out a harsh breath.

Remus hates when you do this. When your tongue gets stuck and you let it lie. There’s so much defeat about you afterwards, it floats over your head like a gray cloud. But he knows this isn’t the time to push you.

“You don’t need to be,” he tells you honestly. “You were doing great. Really, you know I don’t mind stepping in for you, but you could have handled it on your own.”

You press your lips together and try to pull your hand from his, but Remus interlaces your fingers. He can feel your pulse pounding against the butt of his palm when he presses down.

“Relax, dove.”

You take a breath. Swallow. “She was annoyed with me,” you say.

He shakes his head. “She didn’t care.”

“I was using up t…too much time.”

“How do you figure?”

“She has other tables.”

Remus smiles slightly, stroking his thumb up the length of yours. “Look around, sweetheart. This place isn’t packed. I don’t think she was in any rush.”

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your expression. Your knee starts to bounce again, but this time Remus only setting his thigh against yours gets it to stop.

“I think,” he says quietly, “that you have a tendency to assume you’re bothering people when you’re not.” Your gaze flits away from his eyes, then back, and Remus holds it there. He hopes you can see all the sincerity he feels in them. “She didn’t give a shit how you were speaking. She wasn’t annoyed with you, she was probably just thinking about the next question she’d have to ask. Anyway, everyone likes pretty girls. That’s just basic psychology.”

You snort. “If you want me to really start stuttering, keep flirting with me in public,” you say. But something about you has loosened, and Remus feels himself relaxing in response.

“If you want to keep me from it,” he replies, “you’re going to have to come up with a legitimately troublesome consequence.”

You turn away from him, but not before he sees the edge of the smile you’re trying to hide. He gives your hand a little tug.

“I have a question for you, darling.”

“No, I think you’re d…done.”

“Come on,” he urges, “it’s a serious question.”

When you turn back around, you’ve stowed away your amusement but it’s poorly concealed, shining through your eyes. “Hm?”

“Are you going to be able to enjoy your pancakes here,” he asks sincerely, “or would you rather I get us boxes so we can eat at home?”

You think on it for a minute, your gaze wandering about the restaurant. Remus can speculate what you’re looking for: gawping tables, kids turned around in their booths to listen, your waitress whispering furtively by the host’s station. You don’t find any of it.

“I think I’ll b…be okay eating here,” you tell him, turning your eyes up to his almost sheepishly, “thanks.”

Remus gives your hand a squeeze. “Attagirl.”

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cillivnz · 9 months ago

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more than what you bargained for [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 1163 (short and sweet)

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. loss of virginity, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), daddy kink, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation, slightly mean!Karl, p! in v! sex, brief orgasm denial, dacryphilia, slight exhibitionism, overstimulation, clit-play, mention of blood, spiting, cum-play, inappropriate usage of stuffed toys!

A/N — requested! i wasn’t going to leave y’all hanging high n’ dry, nonetheless, but thank you, all! (💋 for u) no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

i’ve decided to write this as a mini-series, can absolutely be read as stand-alones, the title would be “cockuette”, inspired by the coquette-ish aesthetic of the series, hence the 🎀 on Karl!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations from romanian to english]

draga esti acolo : sweetie, are you there? da, mamă? : yes, mother? da, mamă. am doar febra : yes, mother. i just have a fever.

YOUR NIGHT HAD JUST begun.

spinning you around, you were manhandled into a vulgar, shameless position— with you face squished against your pink, cum-slick duvet, and your ass up and spread for the older man.

“such a pretty pussy, baby. you’re really givin’ this ol’ man a treat,” he spread your gushing hole with both his thumbs.

you felt his hot breath fanning over your clenching cunt, whimpering like a wounded animal at how painful the anticipation from the lack of contact made you feel.

“hurts, daddy—” you moaned, your subconscious choosing your words.

“—daddy, huh?” he cocked a brow.

you looked back with widened eyes, face flushed with embarrassment.

you gulped, taking in the scars painting his handsomely aged face.

why was he even more beautiful up close?

“sorry…” you bat your lashes, pussy twitching involuntarily around his thumbs, still stretching you wide for the cold air of your room.

“nah, bunny. ‘s nothing to be sorry for,” he let go of your round ass to pull you closer, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

you felt every crevice of the metal man’s lacerated face, his soft silver locs brushing against the apples of your cheeks, pale grey eyes staring lovingly into yours only after his plump lips parted from your kiss-swollen ones.

he flipped you around, girthy cock falling heavy on your clit almost immediately.

without another word, he pushed the tip inside you, making you gasp.

“K-Karl! holy fuck—” you whined, showing hostility towards the fat penetration.

“sh, daddy’s here.

i got you, pretty bunny.”

only stopping when your hips didn’t allow him to go further, he let you adjust for a brief moment, before starting at a slow pace.

“Karl, it’s too much— too full.” you winced, eyes watery with pain.

“you’ll get used to it, bun. it’s made for you.” he grunted, eyes half-lidded, relishing in the feel of your tight cunt squeezing along his length.

“look at me when i fuck you, miss,” he grabbed your chin firmly, forcing your eyes open. the hand that hadn’t got an ironclad grip on your hip snaked its way onto your clit, rubbing vigorously. “Mama really didn’t teach you manners, huh?” he continued, thrusts gaining brute force and speed.

“that’s okay, darling girl. daddy’s here to teach you lessons. this is one of many.”

he chuckled viciously, eyes glinting with mischievous malice that once again dominated his softer side.

by now you were a moaning mess, crying over the assault of his fat cockhead on your sweet spot, and over the bruises forming on your body from his relentless groping and squeezing, his way of marking you in your most private, sensitive areas.

a reminder that you had wronged Karl earlier, and now you weren’t going to forget.

he turned you around in the blink of an eye, your returned to your initial position with the same sense of degradation; face down, ass up.

now, Karl was not holding back. not when your velvet walls were letting him glide through you.

only the sound of skin-on-skin slapping was sound, until a curt knock was heard.

“draga esti acolo?” your mother’s deep voice echoed.

you were frozen in place, life flashing before your eyes while the man balls-deep inside you only slowed his movements.

you raise your head meekly to look back at Karl, only earning a sly smirk from him.

“da, mamă?” you croaked.

“i’m sorry for leaving you alone with that bastard for so long, i couldn’t have left without dealing with those pests.” she sighed, referring to the people Mother Miranda had ordered her to deal with, but the only thing you cared about right now was Karl’s reaction to the insult.

and knowing him, you knew he was going to take it out on you.

instantaneously, he began pounding into you with brutality, using your g-spot as a punching bag for the mean shaft inside you.

you bit down on the cotton sheets, letting your sharp teeth gnaw into the floral print.

“when did he leave?” your mother’s voice was heard again.

“ah- ab-about an h-hour ago!” you grunted the high-pitched response.

silence met you momentarily.

“are you okay, dragă?” she asked, concerned.

“da, mamă. am doar febra!” you groaned.

your mother cursed under her breath, “it’s my fault for keeping you up so late. i’ll send Pasha in with remedies,” was the last thing she said before her heavy footsteps grew distant.

you moaned a sigh of relief, while the man behind you only chuckled. “bastard, huh?” he mused, still stuck on your mother’s insult.

“bet she’d chew on her words when my seed coats her daughter’s womb.” he scoffed, increasing the force of his thrusts by tenfold.

“daddy!”

your eyes rolled back, his heavy balls slapping your sensitive clit with every thrust, his large palms slapping your fat ass cheeks; could this be—

“—MORE THAN WHAT YOU BARGAINED FOR, bunny?” his hand found your clit, pinching the bud.

he looked over to your side, amused by the sight of your childhood toy, a bunny you named ‘Mina’ staring at the filth unravelling in-front of it.

he grabbed the teddy, still thrusting in and out of you, “choke on this,” he squeezed your cheeks together, opening your mouth just enough to shove the teddy bunny’s arm inside.

your cries were muffled, Karl finally able to focus on chasing his high.

pinching your bundle of nerves, he pulled out completely, feeling you sobbing fully into your sheets at the orgasm denial, cunt convulsing around nothing— the perfect moment for him to shove his cock in whole (in hole, literally) and shoot his load into the pussy whose virginity he just stripped off.

he groaned in your ears, hoisting you up by the hair to kiss you with fervency.

“that’s how a good host treats their guests.” he bit down on your lip, earning sobs from your breathless self.

pulling out, he was eager to spread you open again and see the his cum drool out of you, and lo and behold— your puffy cunt oozed out traces of blood in both of your fluids mixed. Karl stretched you wider and spat right into your hole, causing you to flinch and clench.

he chuckled, pulling Mina the bunny away from your arms, and using its saliva-soaked arm to clean your folds.

you winced at the contact, but the softness felt so good.

“milady, Lady Dimitrescu has sent some soup— OH, GODS!” Pasha the chamberlain dropped the big bowl of remedies to the ground, and charged out the same door she barged in on seeing the princess naked as the day she was born, getting her wet cunt cleaned by the most dangerous of the Lords, holding a teddy bunny in all his glory, with that goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

poor Pasha deserves therapy as compensation for the shit she sees at Castle Dimitrescu.

pt. I. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST. more from ‘resident evil: village’. main masterlist.

#coquette #karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #karl heisenberg x reader smut #karl heisenburg fanart #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil smut #smut #dbf!#age g4p #yandere!karl heisenberg #bunny girl #bunny #lord dimitrescu #cockette #cockuette

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sugar-coat-it · 9 months ago

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Body piercer! Matty

Part 2 , Part 3

May I present my pride and joy (and first AU), body piercer Matty <3, based on the 2020 NOACF mohawk era

Fem! reader

****CW! Needles, pain****

Contains: Matty piercing reader’s nipples*, lustful fantasies, praise, Matty has a tongue piercing, HELLA tension and pining, Matty being a sweetheart through the whole thing

*note, I don’t have nipple piercings lol, apologies if any of this is inaccurate.

Word count: 5313

—------------------------------------------

PART ONE- Fate lands you in Matty Healy’s capable hands when looking to get your nipples pierced. Tension ensues.

—-----------------------------------------

The thought of getting your nipples pierced had been in the back of your mind for what felt like years. It nagged at you every time you saw a pretty girl with barbells poking out under her tank top, you wanted to be her. You’d done all the research, article after article on the healing period, the pain level, and the kinds of jewelry you can get. You also knew fairly well how they enhance sexual encounters, which had a whole draw of its own. You’d done everything except actually make the appointment. That is, up until a few days ago. Fresh off of a breakup and tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d called your local tattoo parlor and scheduled a slot with a body piercer named Maddie, then hung up feeling rather pleased with yourself for finally getting it done. The anticipation of the leadup to the appointment had you biting your lips raw. You’d gotten other piercings before, but never in a place so intimate. Never one that required taking your top off, that’s for certain. But friends had been encouraging you nonstop, telling you what a “hot girl” move it was, and who were you to argue?

Finally, the day comes, and you’re swinging open the parlor door a little too hard, evidently very tense. The bell that jangles when the door opens clanks against the wall, making the man behind the counter startle. Wide-eyed and wincing, you shoot him an apologetic look, embarrassed that you’d practically ripped their front door off the hinge. Great start!

Slowly, after making sure the door is safely shut, you approach the counter, absentmindedly toying with the rings that adorn your fingers, twisting them between your thumb and your forefinger. The man at the counter is exactly who you’d expect to be working at a tattoo and piercing parlor, but an even more stunning rendition if you were being honest. His slightly sleepy-looking eyes brighten a little at the sight of you, a fluffy mohawk of chocolatey waves sitting atop his head. He’s adorned with inked patterns along his skin, a patchwork of symbols across his arms that you restrict yourself to only glancing at for a moment. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he greets you with a warm smile, offering a little wave before you start to explain why you’re here, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

“Hi, I’ve got a 1:00 appointment?” you explain before providing your name, trying your hardest to stop fidgeting.

Your mind is in about 20 places, and it doesn’t help that your heart just fluttered at the eye contact he’s holding with you. The man nods at you, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he picks up the scheduling book, sifting through the pages with black polished nails. When he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of the single silver hoop earring that he’s sporting quite well. Curiosity creeps up like a slinking cat, making you wonder what other modifications he might have. His narrowed eyes scan the book, toffee-colored irises flicking over names until he finds yours penciled in, jabbing his nail against the page.

“Yeah I see you, you’re with me then. And, you did your paperwork and payment stuff, it looks like,” he says, snapping the schedule closed definitively.

“Oh, no I don’t think…” you start to correct, tilting your head at him with confusion until you trail off into quiet.

That’s when it catches your eye, the nametag on his white tank top reads “Matty”. Then it clicks. Matty. Not Maddie. You’d scheduled your appointment to get your tits pierced with a guy. A very attractive guy that was now going to watch you squirm like a child. Your jaw drops slightly, a sinking feeling in your gut starting to fester as you realize your mistake.

“Everything alright there? Second thoughts, perhaps?” Matty prompts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

“No… no second thoughts. To be honest, I thought I had an appointment with a female piercer,” you answer, preemptively grimacing before you’d even finished your sentence.

“Oh, shit. Well, that’s not ideal. Listen, we can get you in here another day then, no problem. Tell me what works for you,” he says, already scrambling for a pencil to put your name elsewhere in the book.

“Actually, I think it’s fine. I’m already here, right?” you offer, shrugging to try and appear more nonchalant about the whole thing (your palms are sweating).

“Are you sure? Seriously, I don’t want you uncomfortable on my watch. It’s not a big deal to get you a different appointment,” he frowns, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers.

His eyes are strangely soft for someone with such an intimidating job, you can only describe the feeling they give you as melting. You can’t quite place why, but his presence alone is somehow quelling your nerves, even if it’s just a bit. Your hands start to still, dropping to rest at your sides as you decide to let him do it anyway. He looks trustworthy, right?

“Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, truly,” you say, a soft smile pulling at your lips at how keen he seems on making you comfortable.

Matty nods slowly, rising from the chair while eyeing you like he’s not sure if you’re going to turn on your heel and run out the door if he looks away. He asks you to follow him to the back, you’re trailing close behind as he pulls his baggy camo pants further up his hips by his belt. The room he leads you to is small and fairly chilly, but only in temperature. The space itself feels homey, plastered with stickers and posters of various punk bands, it doesn’t feel like some sterile hospital room.

“Stay standin’ for me, just need to get some things,” he instructs, turning to reach for his supplies, including the jewelry you’d selected over the phone, “and, whenever you’re ready you can take your top off, okay?”

Without the pressure of his eyes on you, it takes a moment before you slowly ease your shirt up and over your shoulders, setting it beside you. You take a slightly uneven breath as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra, suddenly forgetting the muscle memory from doing it for so many years. The moment it’s off, the rush of cold air instantly sends a shiver licking up your spine. You lean back against the counter, trying to appear as casual as you can as you eye the piercer. Your eyebrows slope with admiration, softening your expression as you realize that he’s now aimlessly fishing through a drawer, trying to give you time to ease into undressing while he’s still turned around. He stays with his back to you until you clear your throat, signaling that you’ve finished. His expression is unphased as he turns around on the heels of his platformed lace-up boots. God, he really is beyond cool, isn’t he?

“Right, I’m gonna put these on, and then I’ll mark the placement,” Matty explains, holding up a pair of latex gloves.

Matty pulls the gloves over his sizeable hands, the bulging veins catching your eye as he flexes his fingers to test that they’re taught. He’s taking a few steps closer to you, now only about an arm's length away as he explains that he’s not going to touch you without the gloves, though of course, your first unfiltered thought is that you wish he would. His eyes hadn’t strayed from your face for even a second this whole time, being remarkably neutral despite the fact that you were topless. Though, you suppose that sort of thing must not phase him since he’s probably pierced tons of nipples. That doesn’t stop the odd tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even glanced at your body. You swallow the feeling like it’s bile, knowing that it’s totally unreasonable to want him to gaze at you with anything but professionalism.

“Is it okay if I put my hands on you? Need to clean the area,” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, it’s making you slightly weak in the knees, he’s just so fucking gentle.

You nod, rolling your shoulders back in preparation for him to touch you while he pours solvent on a cotton pad. His disciplined, gloved hands reach out, and only now does he allow his gaze to dip down to your chest. You could swear his breath hitches just a little, the quiet room allowing for the smallest sounds to be heard. Maybe he is just a man after all. The thought makes pride simmer in your chest, but you’re not dwelling on it for long, your mind going blank the moment he starts to swiftly swipe the pad along your nipples, sanitizing your skin and also effectively making them harden from the stimulation. You tense up, standing straighter than before as you bite back any semblance of a reaction. Matty throws you a glance to assess your discomfort, soft brown irises following the slopes of your features. He places the sanitizing supplies to the side, now uncapping a purple skin marker. This was going to be a long process if he kept looking at you that way.

“Nothing's happening yet, okay? Just gonna draw on where they’re gonna go,” he says, holding it up while raising his eyebrows as if to say “Look, it’s harmless”.

Matty leans in again, his eyes narrowing with concentration, gloved knuckles brushing the side of your breast as he marks a dot on the side of your nipple. Watching Matty stare at your tits with such laser focus has your cheeks flushing just slightly, heat prickling at the bridge of your nose. He runs the tip of the marker from one side of the hardened bud to the other, marking a symmetrical dot. Tingles spread under your skin like wildfire, he’s barely touched you and yet you can feel yourself buzzing at the slightest sensations. His pretty brown eyes meet yours and he just smiles at you sympathetically, knowing how hyperfocused on his every movement you must be.

“You’re not breathing,” he whispers, playfully jabbing the capped end of the pen against your arm.

Your eyes widen as you realize that he’s absolutely right, you’d been holding your breath this whole time. You release your bated breath, your chest heaving slightly as Matty keeps looking down at you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You swear the eye contact while being inches away from him is making you more lightheaded than the lack of oxygen. With a satisfied nod, he resumes, repeating the same process of drawing the dots at the peak of your other breast. Then, he takes a step back, biting the cap of the marker between his canines while he evaluates his work. This allows you another moment to admire him as he eyeballs the symmetricalness of his markings. Your mind is wandering, perhaps trying to distract you from how intently this man is studying your breasts. You’re wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t so gentle with you. What if he touched you instead with greed, the need to satiate himself? In your head, you imagine the warm, honey tones of his eyes darkening like tinted glass as he drinks you in not as his client, but as something to desire, to want to feel flush beneath his calloused fingertips. This version of Matty doesn’t try to limit every graze of his working hands, he’s starving; groping, and mapping every part of your skin that he can reach. You’re jumping the gun now, the image flashes through your mind like a ricocheting bullet: Matty’s got you pressed up against the wall, his hands are mean as he grabs a handful of one of your tits, his thigh is hitched between your legs, keeping your thighs parted. His head dips down, his shaggy mohawk tickling at your neck as he tugs on the silver barbell through your nipple with his teeth, pain melding with pleasure till they’re impossible to separate. And, oh, fuck, does he have a tongue piercing? Your eyes flick down to his mouth now, mind reeling as you spot the silver stud on his tongue revealed by the way he’s chewing on the cap of the marker. You are losing yourself, and fast, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, looks just about even. Would you go ahead and lie down there, darlin’?” he asks, cocking his head towards the reclined padded chair next to him.

Now is where the nerves are starting to kick in, it’s all fun and fantasizing about your body piercer until you actually have to sit in the chair. You were hardly able to mentally fawn over the pet name as you took unsure strides to situate yourself in the cold, plastic parlor recliner. Matty busies himself with preparing various metal objects while you stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the fluorescent lights and wondering why you wanted your tits pierced so badly in the first place. Then, his unreasonably darling face is in your field of vision, peering down at you with a consoling smile.

“Comfy?” he prompts, a needle in one hand and a small pair of forceps in the other.

It’s not a comforting sight, no matter how lovely the man holding them is.

“Sorta. I’m actually kind of a chicken about these things,” you admit with a wobbly smile in return.

“No… really?” he grins boyishly, clearly being sarcastic with you.

You shoot him a look for that, but it melts away into a little laugh, you can’t seem to even fake a cold stare around him, it’s sort of pitiful. Standing over you, Matty raises the forceps close to your breasts but doesn’t touch you with them just yet. You bite your lip, lifting your head to get a better look at what’s happening, even though you’re not entirely sure you even want to watch.

“Now, this is just going to feel like a little pinch, shouldn’t hurt,” he says, his voice lowering a little before he slips in a: “You’re doing really good.”

The praise tears your gaze away from his hands and onto his face, blinking in disbelief at the way he’d caused a fizzling pang of desire inside you so effortlessly. That feeling doesn’t get any weaker the moment you feel the cool metal clamp around your nipple, your lips parting with a soft gasp, hands tensing with the urge to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Matty’s pierced tongue darts out past his lips in concentration, soothing over his bottom lip as he lines the needle up next to the hardened bud. You jolt at the sharp tip of the object against your sensitive skin, your hand shooting out to grab onto Matty’s bicep in a moment of pure reaction. Both of you seem equally shocked that you’d suddenly clutched his arm, your nails slightly biting into his skin amongst the spattering of pretty freckles that mark him. There’s a moment of the loudest silence you’ve ever heard, his stare feels like it’s searing you. You’re about to rush into apologizing, but then he’s placing his tools back down onto his tray of supplies, tentatively reaching to rest his larger hand over yours, enveloping it in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m just lining up my shot. I’m gonna tell you when it’s time, okay? Just breathe with me for a moment,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing tenderly over the back of your hand.

He takes an exaggerated breath, encouraging you to do the same, his chest rising beneath his white tank top. You mirror Matty, taking a deep breath in of, well… him. He smells like a dizzying combination of Marlboros and woody aftershave because of course, he does.

“That’s it, much better. It’ll be a whole fuckin’ ordeal if you pass out on me, so stay with me here. Can you do that?” he questions, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah… yeah, I can. Thank you,” you say softly, trying to disregard the sparks radiating under Matty’s palm.

You stay like this for a few breaths longer, Matty doesn’t look away from you and you’re not so sure that it’s only because he doesn’t want you to conk out. His gloved hand gives yours an encouraging squeeze before letting go slowly. The heat still lingers as he retrieves his tools a second time, the flexing of his bicep under your grasp reminds you that you should probably let go of him now. But, the moment you start to retract your hand, he glances at you and speaks in that silky tone of his.

“You don’t have to let go, s’okay. You can use me like a stress toy, or something. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, winking at you.

You just nod dumbly, your eyes going a little wider as you settle your hand over his bare arm again, right over the top of his Newcastle United seahorse tattoo. You’d like to use him in other ways too, but that’s not very appropriate, now is it?

You let out a sigh as you come to the same point in the process again, Matty lining up the needle diligently while keeping your nipple clamped with the metal forceps, but this time, you get to cling to his arm. You don’t want to distract him, because it would be your loss in the end, but there is a sense of satisfaction when you feel his bicep flex slightly as you trace your thumb along the symbol inked on his skin, following the curve of the seahorses mane with your nail.

“Okay, love. Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to do it on three, and when I say three, I need you to take a sharp breath in for me, like this,” he instructs, then shows you what he means with a harsh inhale through his nose.

You breathe out a weak “okay”, already gripping his arm harder from the anticipation building up to a high. You decide it’s best not to watch, especially since you’d promised you wouldn’t pass out. You let your head rest back against the chair, your nose scrunching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Matty begins to count down, increasing the pressure of the clamp. 1. 2. 3. You inhale sharply through your nose at the same time that an unprecedented amount of burning pain reverberates through your chest, your eyes snapping open. You’re clawing at his arm, a cry ripping past your lips while tears well up and blur your vision. It’s a feeling so intense that it’s seeping through you to your stomach, crawling like the meanest sunburn. Of all the piercings you’ve gotten, you can say without a doubt that this takes first prize for the most painful.

“Oh, fuck!” you sob, the sound being embarrassingly close to a full-bodied moan.

Matty slides the jewelry through while swiftly retracting the needle, trying to stifle the way the sound you’d made was affecting him, echoing in his skull in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He doesn’t even flinch despite the way your nails are leaving angry, red crescents marred on his skin. He quickly screws the barbell together before completely retracting his hands from you, taking one more glance at his handiwork before consoling you, his heart seemingly aching for the pretty girl in his chair.

“I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, but you’re halfway done. Doing so good, you’re alright,” he murmurs, reaching the gloved back of his hand to your face to wipe some of the stray tears on your cheeks.

You just whine, the radiating pain only now starting to subside as you keep your hold on his arm, now smoothing over the marks you’d left with your fingertips as if you’re kissing them better. His thumb grazes along your cheek for a little too long for it to be accidental. Matty’s praise while he wipes away your tears is making your mind fuzzy, it’s like he’s numbing the pain; the sweetest morphine.

Your gasps for breath are slowing, the pain like a dull pulse, easing its grip on you. Mortification is starting to sink in now that you’re not reeling from shooting pain. One of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen just watched you in one of your most vulnerable moments, and there’s still one piercing to go, much to your dismay.

“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” you admit with a breathy laugh at your own expense.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. You could’ve done much worse, probably,” he says, looking amused as he shakes his head at you.

“Like what?” “I dunno… like, socked me in the face as a fight or flight response.”

You laugh at that, a bright sound filling the room that makes Matty’s smile grow fonder as he gazes down at you with those pretty, sparkly eyes. The moment lingers on for a few beats, tension blooming between you that almost makes you forget about the throbbing ache of your left breast (almost).

“You do know I have to do the other one right? Unless you’re a bit odd and like the one-piercing look,” he reminds cautiously over the clinking metallic sound of him picking up his tools.

“I know,” you sigh, “can you do it fast?”

“Erm… I’ll do it as quickly as I can without making it cockeyed, but I reckon you’ll be fine. Besides, the second one’s always easier from what I’ve seen.”

He doesn’t seem like the type that would elude you for the sake of false security, so you take his word as gospel, settling in to prepare yourself for what’s hopefully a more tolerable experience. His next words have your heart thrumming against your ribs.

“Can you handle it?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

You nod at him quietly, absentmindedly drawing little feather-light swirls on his bicep. The incentive of his praise is becoming all too tempting. You want to handle it, you want to show him that you can do it. There’s a new, honeyed kind of heat seeping into your bones.

“Good girl. You’re a strong one, love,” he praises, sensing just how eager you are.

The next pulse you feel doesn’t come from your chest. Good girl? He has to be fucking with you. Jesus, does he talk to all of his customers like this? Does he wipe all of their tears too? Something in you wants to believe he doesn’t. He watches as your lips part slowly, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. You have to know.

“Do you call all your customers that?” you whisper, blinking up at him coyly.

“Not really, no. Only the pretty ones who deserve it.”

Your breath comes out as a shudder, it’s unfair how easily he leaves you stunned. He clicks his tongue casually before getting back to work, all too pleased by the look on your face. You know the routine by now, Matty makes quick work of clamping your nipple and arranging the prodding tip of the needle just so. You’re still clinging to his arm, or your personal stress toy, something you’ve grown very familiar to the feel of throughout your time here. The countdown starts, he’s not giving you as much time to prepare. 1. 2. 3. What was more like a shriek from earlier comes out as a whine this time, a high-pitched, whimpery noise spilling from you. You don’t curse or practically maul his arm this time, but it’s still painful, you can’t say you’re fond of how vividly you can feel the needle go in and out amidst the burning sting.

“Beautiful, atta girl,” he whispers, screwing the end of the barbell on before leaning back to admire his work, his eyes unabashedly glued to how the jewelry sits prettily on your breasts.

You have no clue if he’s talking about you, your tits, or the job he’d done, but it makes your skin warm all the same.

Finally, you allow yourself to look at your chest, gently sliding your hand off of his bicep to prop yourself up on your arms and get a good look at the two new adornments. Shit, they look good on you, better than you’d hoped, and perfectly symmetrical thanks to him. He smirks when he notices the way you’re gawking at the piercings, knowing that the pain is barely a thought in your mind now, too distracted by how newly desirable you must feel. Matty likes knowing that one, he’s good at his job, and two, that he’s just helped you feel sexier. He’s really enjoying watching you admire yourself and in turn, his work. There’s a slight stir beneath his baggy pants, which he knows should never happen while he’s with a client, but you might just be the sweetest thing that’s ever been in his chair. He’s allowing himself a pass.

“Shit, Matty, they’re really nice,” you gape, your stomach swooping when you glance up to see the smug look playing on his lips.

“Yeah, they came out mint. Suit you nicely, don’t they?” he says, daring to dance along the line of being unprofessional as he then glances down at your tits and whistles.

What a boy.

“Thank you… for everything I mean.”

“Don’t mention it, you were great,” Matty smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he waves off your gushing.

Butterflies are rampaging in your stomach, god, why does he have to be so lovely? He looks like he has something he wants to say, but it goes unspoken, rattling around in his head instead. His expression is hard to read, but would you be deluding yourself to say there’s a tinge of longing? A few beats of quiet tick by, and you’re now becoming acutely aware of the fact that you no longer have a reason to be topless, awkwardly crossing your arms. Always so attentive, Matty suddenly straightens up and reaches over your body, his chain dangling in front of your face as he grabs your shirt and bra from the counter. He places them on your lap and politely turns away as if he’s never seen you undressed, clearing his throat like that will clear the thick tension in the air.

You wince as soon as the cups of your bra meet your immensely tender breasts, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as you power through clasping it. The sensitivity is something you’d been warned about, and now you get to joyfully experience it firsthand for the next however many weeks. Your eyes are on Matty’s back as you slip your shirt over your head, taking note of how rigid he seems as he gathers the after-piercing care papers for you. But maybe it’s in your head. You haven’t known him very long at all, it’s a dangerous game to assume any of the tension of this afternoon was real when you were freaking out for more than half of it.

“Right, any questions for me?” he asks, striding over to hand you the pages.

Are you single?Can we go out?Should we make out right now?How are you real?

“No, I think I’m alright.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not woozy, you can go ahead and stand up when you’re ready,” he says, clasping his hands together as if he’s wrapping up his job well done.

With the care pamphlet in one hand, you start to slowly swing your legs over to the side, noticing the way Matty stands at attention like he’s ready to catch you if your legs give out. But they don’t, you’re able to stand with minimal wobbles, shaking out your hands to try and relax your poor, recovering body.

The walk back to the front of the parlor is quiet, the both of you trying to grapple with the tension you couldn’t quite leave behind in the chair. There’s not much else to say, is there? You’re both standing next to the door now, and Matty retracts one of his hands from within his pockets to hold it out to you. Nothing says “I just blurred the lines of professionality while piercing your tits and now this is goodbye” like a good old handshake, does it? You try to keep your expression neutral even though this all feels quite bittersweet, grasping his hand with a firm shake. It’s the first time you’ve felt his hand without the latex glove between you, they’re soft, but you can tell he works with his hands, the callouses on his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Lovely to meet you, sorry I wasn’t a chick,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you too. And don’t worry about that, I’m glad it was you,” you reply, perhaps being a little too sincere, but it feels right to say.

“... well, listen, get home safe, alright? Take care of yourself, call if you have any problems,” he says, once again seeming like he’s biting his tongue, keeping himself from saying something to you.

You reach for the handle of the door, but you don’t open it. You look back at him like you’re giving him one more chance to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, but he doesn’t, he just offers a nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Heartache.

“See you, Matty,” you nod in return, opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You evaluate your situation on the walk back to your car. You’ve rid yourself of the urge to get your tits pierced, and they look fantastic, but your new problem is that you have a massive crush on your body piercer that you’re likely never going to see again unless you get another piercing. It’d be a rather expensive hobby to get a piercing just to see his face, so scratch that. Your only option is to be reminded of him every time you take your shirt off, how miserable is that?

Little do you know, the moment the shop door closed behind you, Matty groaned with his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not asking you out, or at least getting your number. Sure, you were a client, he had to be careful, but shit, you weren’t just any client, now were you? What was wrong with him? Something about you left the body piercer stiff and tongue-tied, replaying every moment of your encounter back in his mind. Never in his life had Matty Healy felt anything for a customer.

—---One month later—----

After a hellish month of healing, scabbing, and getting your piercings caught on things, you’ve decided that there’s no real point in having nipple piercings if no one gets to see them but you. You’d like to tell yourself that you don’t think about Matty as much anymore, but that would be laughably dishonest. Dating apps are just about one of the most aggravating wastes of time ever, and you’ve had no luck meeting people naturally, so here comes the next best thing: blind dates. Your close friend fancies herself to be somewhat of a matchmaker, she’s been talking up this guy to you for days now, telling you how funny and totally your type he is, and nothing could possibly go wrong if she set you up. You have your doubts, but still, you find yourself in a cafe waiting for your mystery man to sweep you off your feet with his supposed punchy one-liners. What you don’t expect, however, is to watch a very familiar mohawked man stride into the place, the eyes that have patronized your dreams every night scanning across the cafe until they lock onto you.

—----------------------------------------------

Don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging with just tension, ofc there’s going to be a smutty part two <3

Thank you very much for reading, I hope it wasn’t underwhelming! And thank you to any other writers that I reached out to to consult about my ideas, ily, mwah!

#oh god I’m nervous about this one #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #body piercer!Matty

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tsukimefuku · 4 months ago

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THE FOODIES & GOODIES EVENT MASTERLIST — JUJUTSU KAISEN

Bento Box Blunder (by @pmpmyread) Pairing/Characters: Kento Nanami x f!Reader Tags/cw: None, barring the gratuitous mentions of food. Summary: You’d always admired Kento Nanami from a distance, even harbouring a small crush on him, sentiments you’d only allowed yourself to indulge within the safe sanctuary of your discretion. Then one day, you stole his lunch.

Tuna Mayo (by @redlikerozez) Pairing/characters: Inumaki Toge x gn!Reader Tags/cw: Canon typical descriptions of violence, dealing with loss of limb, probably inaccurate description of making rice balls. Summary: Inumaki Toge tries to make rice balls in the aftermath of Shibuya. Reader helps him out. Or an Inumaki Toge-centric fic about dealing with the events of Shibuya while also being absolutely whipped for GN!Reader.

Get that bread, Sir (by @rahuratna) Characters: Nanami Kento. Ijichi Kiyotaka. Tags/cw: fluff, comedy. Summary: One assistant. One sandwich. One ruthless adversary in the quest for quality bread.

Love you a latte (by @kentocalls) Pairing/characters: Fushiguro Toji x f!Reader Tags/cw: Fluff. Summary: Lazy mornings with Toji and a passion for coffee.

Lollipop kiss (by @tsukimefuku) Pairing/characters: Kusakabe Atsuya x gn!Reader Tags/cw: comedy, fluff, this man is completely clueless but reader isn’t making things any easier. making out and happy ending. there is a bartender very invested in the drama. a little suggestive if you squint. Summary: your workplace crush, kusakabe, is pretty dense when it comes to romance, so you try to ease things out with a bag of lollipops.

My Cinnamon Girl (by @actuallysaiyan) Pairing/characters: Nanami Kento x f!Reader Tags/cw: smoking, general fluff Summary: Kento is your regular customer and one night when he really needs you, he ends up finding you outside smoking and you offer him some pastries.

Love you a waffle lot, you know? (by @senseifupa) Pairing/characters: Higuruma Hiromi x f!Reader Tags/cw: sfw with smoochin, fluff, established relationship, soft Hiromi. Summary: Hiromi and you share warm moments over waffles.

My "Batter" Half (by @seireiteihellbutterfly) Pairing/characters: Nanami x f!Reader Tags/cw: saw, fluff, cuteness. Summary: You decide to make one of your favorite South Indian recipes while accompanied by Nanami.

Good Enough to Eat (by @fattybattysblog) Pairing/characters: Mahito x Female Original Character Tags/cw: Smut, inappropriate use of food and cursed techniques, temperature play, Mahito is his own content warning. Summary: "Can't I just visit a friend?" he asked slyly. "We'd have to be friends first," she grumbled. Mahito's laughter echoed through the room, a sound that made Hairi's skin prickle. He sat upright and rested his arm on his knee. "Touché," he said, licking another drip of ice cream. "But, you know, we're not so different. We could be friends." Hairi raised an eyebrow. "Friends don't usually show up unannounced and uninvited." "Isn't spontaneity the spice of life?" he leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Besides, I think we both know there's more between us than just animosity." She scoffed, taking a defiant bite of her own cone. "In your dreams." "Actually... in yours," he purred, his gaze lingering on her lips.

Egg Fried Rice (by @tiny-wooden-robot-fics) Pairing/characters: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Tags/cw: Fluff, Mentions of food and alcohol, Flirting, Pre-established friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, There is some suggestiveness near the end, This is part of a series Summary: “I was,” she admits, “but I realized I didn’t feel like working out tonight and decided to make greasy food instead.” She raises an eyebrow, taking his spoon from him and helping herself to his bowl of fried rice. “And anyway, I’m allowed to eat and drink whatever I want, Suguru.” “The point of cooking enough for both of us is so we can each have our own… is it not?” He looks pointedly at the spoon in her hand. “It tastes better when I take it from you,” she laughs. She holds a spoonful of rice up to his mouth. He hesitates only for a moment before letting her feed him. “You’re definitely different,” he chuckles once he’s done chewing. He doesn’t realize he’s said the words aloud until she goes quiet, her brown eyes wide and staring.

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cannibalisation · 19 days ago

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i. lady grinning soul

sirius black/reader (no gendered pronouns, mentions of reader having 🍒)

shocking your friends, you bite the bullet and book a tattoo appointment with a new artist, turns out you have a lot more in common than thought before. or, you and tattooist!sirius bond over your shared love for David Bowie. (2.6k)

caution. modern au, tattoo needles, blood, slight nudity(?), i’ve never been tattooed before so the procedure might be inaccurate, reader is down bad for a man they just meet, pretty unprofessional work environment, crack ending.

i’m new to the marauders fandom and have limited knowledge, sorry for any character inaccuracies.

IT’S exceedingly rare for you to shoot from the hip.

More often than not, the bullets stay lodged in the barrel of your metaphorical gun (in other words, your prefrontal cortex), where it’s safe and close to you.

Most of your close companions would consider you to be a level-headed individual, not the kind of person to go to when it comes to profound decisions.

Lily Evans knew this well, so it’s safe to assume that she was dumbfounded when you shared thoughts with her about your pivotal choice to get new ink.

“You’re cheating on McKinnon? She’s never going to forgive you.” She verbalised with an airy voice.

It was a joke; you weren’t cheating on Marlene—she’s done most of your tattoos, and she would forgive you. At least you think she would.

You snort at Lily’s statement, trying to focus on the tweezer in your hand and her russet-coloured eyebrows.

She sits on the small stool of her vanity, and you lean over her. It’s a position too close for comfort, but over the years you’ve known Lily, its no dilemma for either of you.

“If she hadn’t gone on that so-called platonic girls trip with that Meadowes girl, I wouldn’t have to cheat on her, and it’s not even cheating!”

The corner of Lily’s mouth had curled up at your comment on the topic, and you mirrored it. She eyes you playfully in silent agreement.

Marlene did try and write off this weekend getaway as a friendly affair between her and Dorcas, but you could see past her act effortlessly. She hadn’t been subtle, not when her eyes had lit up so brightly when she heard the doorbell ring.

Leaning back from where you were hunched over the red-headed girl, you try to assess your work done on her eyebrows.

As usual, they’re plucked to perfection. You smile and throw the tweezer aside; it clatters against the other beauty products situated on the surface of your vanity. Lily flinches at the noise and lightly punches your arm in retaliation with a shallow laugh.

“Where have you booked it? Is it local?” Lily questions, trailing after you as you walk away.

“A parlour in the city; wonder if Marl knows them.” You reply as you stride into the kitchen. Flicking on the kettle, you begin to prepare a cup of tea. Turning back to where Lily stands behind you, you shake the box of teabags in offering. She nods and moves to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Is it not like, sacrilege? What if they’re tattooist arch-enemies or something?”

“Then perhaps I’ll be the tattooed Judas.” It was a poor attempt at a joke on your part, but fortunately it lands and Lily lets out a snicker.

You ponder the thought for a moment while waiting on the kettle to boil. Is a fresh set of ink a symbol for the thirty pieces of silver? Is Marlene saintlike, and is it even worth betraying her? She’s always been a good friend, and you’d feel terrible if she actually was heartbroken over your actions.

As if she had a second sense for sniffing out negative reasoning, Lily sounds out a low whistle to gain your attention. It works, and you turn to look at her.

Her head is tilted to the left slightly, curls brushing against the countertop. She always had an unnatural ability for reading your body language like a book, now even more so. A small smile graces her features, one of tenderness she only sets aside for those closest to her—and probably stray cats.

“It’ll be fine; you can always hide it from her.” She murmurs, as if it were a secret.

“I’m getting it done on my ribs.”

Lily grimaces, and you don’t know if it’s out of the idea of the pain or how quickly her secretive plan was soiled.

A bell chime makes a racket when you open the front door of the tattoo parlour.

You wince at the noise and slowly close the door behind you. Inside the shop is an interior similar to what you had already imagined.

Tawny-coloured bricks line the back wall; it reminds you of Lily’s hair.

Framed pictures of artworks and musicians decorate the brickwork; you take note of the recurring portraits of your favourite classic rock stars, maybe this place won’t be too bad; maybe you were stressing for nothing.

There are five sets of tattoo stations, with one of them being occupied. A burly man lies against the leather of the chair as another, much slimmer man has a tattoo gun to his bicep. The man has deeply contorted facial features, most likely due to the pain.

It’s laughable, almost, seeing such a stout individual in such a situation.

You are broken out of your stupor by a figure that appears before you. Another man, with wide brown eyes hidden behind crimson-coloured glasses, stands in front of you. He has a bright-eyed look, one you recognise as the typical customer-service guise. Taking a brief moment, you admire the dark ink that lines his brown skin.

“Afternoon love, Did you have an appointment for today, or are you a walk-in?” He questioned, voice orotund to ensure you had heard him over the buzz of the tattoo gun in the corner of the room. He presses his upper body against the front desk to lean over it and grab a spiralled notebook.

You assume it’s a booking schedule, as Marlene has something similar in her flat, so you offer your name. He flips through the book before he lands on one page. He nods to himself and lets out a small noise of recognition.

“Well, it looks like you’re with Sirius today; I’ll go fetch him for you. Please make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the small shag settee behind you before walking into a back room hidden behind a beaded curtain. You do as he says and perch yourself down on the crimson-coloured couch.

Toying at the textured fabric you sit upon, you return to admiring the decor of the shop. One poster in particular catches your eye.

A grayscale portrait of David Bowie sits behind a sky blue frame and sea foam glass. The blackened scratching of an autograph leaves you feeling a slight sense of jealousy.

A loud brush of the beaded curtains interrupts the fresh grudge you had formed on whoever it is that got a signed picture of the Goblin King.

Graced with the presence of yet another man, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the matter. Maybe you should’ve stuck with Marlene. This one’s just as pretty as the original guy you spoke to— alabaster skin and cropped jet black hair. He smiles softly when you stand to meet him halfway.

“Hi. You’re my canvas today?”

You nod, and he motions for you to follow him to a tattoo station. This man, Sirius, you recall, dons a frayed shirt with imagery of a black metal band you hardly recognise and navy blue wide leg jeans. He has two different coloured Converse shoes on; is it a fashion statement, or did he seem to displace the other half to both pairs? From what you can see when you walk behind him, his forearms are patterned with cluttered designs of tattoos.

You settle onto the tattoo bench as Sirius prepares his equipment.

He’s practically hovering over you now, eyeing the length of your body. Your face grows warm, and you pray that he can’t feel the heat. It’s clear he does though; a hint of a smile crawls up on his features. He really was quite pretty.

“Alright,” he says, “what are we doing today?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly set on a particular subject; I was hoping you might have some designs you’ve been wanting to try out.”

Sirius smiles much more softly now. He looks alluring like this. The sterile lighting would do nothing to help the beauty of others, but for some reason he looks otherworldly.

“Stunning, I can work with that.” You could too if he asked for it. “Is there a position in particular you were leaning towards?” He asks while pulling a beige Manila sleeve. You nod and gesture in the general direction of your upper rib cage. His face contorts as if he were experiencing the soon-to-come pain.

You spend the next few minutes with your head leaning awfully close to Sirius’ shoulder. Finally, you land on a particular design that you like the concept of and ask him to tweak some parts of the composition.

Having already been subjected to being a canvas for Marlene, you are already familiar with the spouts of pain experienced when being tattooed.

There are enough sweets and sugary drinks stuffed into the pocket of your bag to last you days; you can only hope that Sirius has the peace of mind to go easy on you. Spending the next several hours whining into his ear in pain seems less than charming.

“Cool. You can take your shirt off now.”

Just as you expected, he did not go easy on you. Fortunately, it had taken less than half an hour to finalise the exact location and composition of the piece. Normally, it would take yourself and Marlene several days to even figure out a basic idea. Perhaps it was the air of succour that Sirius gave off, or maybe you had just wanted to make an impression on him.

Either way, you find yourself with your back flat against the chair as Sirius holds the tattoo gun to your flesh. The pain is strong on the surface of your rib cage, and the buzz of the tattoo gun makes it feel like your ribs are rattling against one another.

Sirius has been heartwarmingly kind throughout this exchange, taking the time often to ask if you had wanted any other snacks to eat at or if you needed to take a break when he notices the contort of pain in your face. But obviously these are just standard business qualities; it’s best not to assume otherwise. The faint brush of his hand against your shin or the hushed praises under his breath are just common practices, right?

Bravely, you choose to ignore these thoughts that occupy your mind and instead focus on studying the dark lines embellished on Sirius’ forearms.

A mixture of bright and monochrome ink circulates his veins and stretch marks. It evokes an image of a summer’s breath of wind. Flower petals and leaves curling in the breeze.

A series of gentle pats against your shoulder rids you of your state of languor. He has terribly soft hands, yet callouses run deep all the same. You wonder what it would be like to hold his in your own.

“I think I’ll turn you over now. Just to make the tattooing a bit easier for you.” He began, urging you with a gentle tug on your bicep. “Is that alright, love?” You nod and string out a grumble of agreements.

He has you embraced a lot closely now that your on your side. His unoccupied hand grabs a flurry of paper towels from the dispenser behind you. He rests them and his hand between the juncture of hip and upper thigh. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume the new blush of red that he dawns on his face was derived from such proximity.

The insistent buzz of the tattoo gun continues, and you try to centre your mind on the noise. With your eyes closed, you cannot see the serpentine path formed by coffee brown eyes. As Sirius watches you, a lump forms in his throat.

It’s laughably notable that this is unprofessional, the way he’s been acting for the last several hours. Sirius is surprised that Remus hasn’t said anything to him as he types away on the front desk computer; has he even noticed? The all but necessary intimacy between the two of you was stark. If James was still clocked in, he’d be having a field day.

Your body language isn’t telling him that you’re uncomfortable, and he most definitely hasn’t pushed at any clear boundaries. He sees the way your chest rises and falls. You look content almost, which is odd given the fact that he is currently holding several needles in your skin.

Something catches Sirius’ eye, something he recognises all too well. He draws a sharp breath, and you flinch.

“Hey, we have matching tats!” He marvelled. With a flutter of blinks, you hum in question, clearly shocked by the sudden volume of his voice.

Sirius turns the tattoo gun off and moves it to the small side table to the right of you. He pulls up the fabric of his weathered shirt and points at a specific work on his lower stomach. It’s then that you make the connection and try not to redden at the reveal of his lean form, like a Victorian gentleman would at the slip of an ankle.

Nestled upon his waist is a red lightning bolt with blue shadowing. Aladdin Sane, 1973, David Bowie.

You have a matching David Bowie tattoo with one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen.

You’re spiralling now; is the autographed photo his? Was he truly blessed with the presence of a musical genius before he passed on? You don’t know if you should break down in tears or kiss him.

The tattoo you have is much smaller and located on the side of your left breast. Normally it’s quite hard to see, hidden beneath your underclothes or your arm. It was one of your first, a drunken decision but you don’t regret it. Lily had cringed when you first showed it to her, criticising the rash, permanent commitment.

The following weekend, she did the same thing in an almost blackout haze. A set of lily flower petals rests on her shoulder.

“You a Bowie fan? What’s your top song?” The presence of Sirius once again breaks you out of your thoughts; he’s really good at that.

“Uh, probably The Prettiest Star.”

“Yeah. That’s a good one.”

The smile on his face is a coy one; you can’t help but feel left out of an untold joke. Sirius says nothing and returns to working on your skin. In your mind, you pray to whoever’s listening (hopefully Bowie) that this tattoo won’t take much longer. You are unsure of how much more you can take of this determined teasing.

Another hour passes before you’re finally done. Plastic wrapped like leftovers and a decent sum drained from your bank account. Safe to assume that leftovers are all you’ll be eating for the time being.

Sirius hands you a receipt and bids you a flirty goodbye. Breathless, you exit the parlour, though not before becoming flustered at the wink he gives you as you walk out the door.

You turn the crumpled invoice in your hand and stifle a shout of elation. A phone number, his personal one, you hope. Beside it is a scribbled sentence that reads: Text me and i’ll tell you all about my favourite songs. - S.

When you finally limp your way up the stairs to your flat, you are faced with the one thing you feared. Lily sits tense on the living room couch, with Marlene right beside her.

The red-headed girl turns to look at you with a frightened expression, she knows. You mentally brace yourself and tiptoe over to the two. Gazing meekly at the subject of your fears, her face is unreadable. Your breath turns heavy.

“So..” she starts, “You’re having an affair?”

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runa-falls · 1 year ago

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Soo, (reffing to fluffer ff) how do you think the boys would react if they couldn't request you because you're working with somebody else or if they see you working with someone else?

ooooh shitttttt 🫢 alright, let's explore that shall we?

a/n: uhhh….i’m so sorry that this took so long omg 😭 i love you nonnie, i just forgor~ i'm making a second part to this where they find out reader was an amateur porn star before she became a fluffer :3 it's mostly all smut ngl, so anyway...

cw: explicit smut w/ jake only.. sry marc/steven hoes (18+), jealous!marc [angst, fluff], soft!steven [fluff[, out-of-pocket!jake [straight smut], inaccurate depiction of sex work, dirty talk, not proof-read!!

w/c: 1.7k [my baddd]

Fluffing for Others:

Being a fluffer was your job before you met the boys and you continued to do it after. The thing is, after you met the boys, you were so busy working with them that your already limited work schedule had no space for other clients.

But occasionally, one of your earlier clients will request you months in advance for a big project, and you have no reason to decline them (that is, until the boys convince you to stop working).

Marc [slight angst, fluff]:

"Sorry baby, I can't make it Tuesday, I have another client--"

Marc was just telling you about his next production that's set to film in the next few days.

Of course, he springs the gig on you just as it's about to happen.

He always does this, assuming you'd be free, and happy to join him. He never gives you more than a week to prepare, and usually you're fine with it. But this time, you're busy.

"Wait, another client?" You nod, but he's still not getting it, like he can't believe his ears. "Like a different client? Like an 'outside of this body' client?" You sigh.

Of course, he's reacting like this.

"Yes Marc, an old friend called and booked me for the week. I put it on the joint calendar, didn't you see it?" His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words. "He's doing a movie length exclusive, so he called way in advance."

"But...but what about me?" He pouts -- literally pouts -- as he walks closer to you, backing you against the kitchen counter.

You raise a brow, "What about you?"

"What am I gonna do?" His hands hold you by the waist, pulling you close while he nuzzles his nose against your neck. He does this when he's trying to comfort himself -- buries his face against your body and holds you close.

He's so dramatic.

"Don't be so whiney, Marc. A girl's gotta work too." He hmphs in discontent as he hoists you onto the edge of the counter. You loop your arms around his neck easily and make him look at you. His soft brown eyes shyly meet yours, "I don't complain when you fuck your co-workers."

"That's--"

You send him a warning look, "I swear to god if you say it's different..."

"No, you're right, honey..." He's sheepish when he looks at you, realizing how his jealousy got the best of him once again. "I just...want you all to myself sometimes." You peck him on the cheek, then his jaw, then his neck, suppressing a smile as he leans into you with a sigh. He's so easy.

"I'm yours, baby." His hands squeeze at your waist at those words. He loves hearing you say that. Loves that you're here in his kitchen, always ready to receive his needy affection.

"So... are you free next week?"

You snort.

"Marc, you can't keep moving your productions for me. You could always find another back-up fluffer..."

"Not doing it without you." He mumbles, lips brushing against yours.

You lean into him and your noses nudge against each other. You're not quite kissing him, but when you're looking into his eyes like this, it feels just as intimate.

"Yeah, I'm free."

He grins, "Good. It's a date." He captures your lips in his and you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

---

Steven [fluff!]:

Telling Steven was pretty easy. He knew about it before you even told him, seeing it on the 'family calendar' that you forced each boy to join.

"You need a ride to production Monday? I could call you an early cab as we don't have a car and all. Don't want you to have to catch the bus."

Steven is lying next to you, having woken up in the body this morning. He's always been more of a morning person compared to the other boys, despite looking perpetually tired.

"Aw, thanks honey, but I'm fine. Their sending a company car since it's such a long filming schedule." You snuggle up closer to him, craving his warmth from the morning coolness that blows through the flat. He lets you settle against him, wrapping an arm around your torso.

"A company car? ...fancy."

"Anything is fancier than our usual walk and transit ride." You giggle against the thin fabric of his shirt, slightly muffling your words with how closely you cling to him.

Steven is dressed in Marc's pajamas: a tight undershirt and briefs, clothes you rarely get to see Steven in when he's fronting. Usually, he prefers looser clothing made of soft and comfy materials.

You can't complain though. Seeing Steven (unintentionally) show off his built body while acting all cozy and sweet makes you heat with want.

"You don't mind I'm working for other clients again?"

He tilts his head as if he's just now considering it.

"No, why would I? It's your job, just like how I have mine."

You pause, surprised by how cool he is with it.

"Oh...yeah."

“I actually thought you'd be doing this more often..." You look up at him, meeting his soft and sleepy gaze, "I mean, I thought everyone would be requesting you." He whispers, unsure if you'd appreciate his comments.

You hum, "I only had one company that hired me as a general assistant and only three regulars." You smile at him, remembering the first time you met him, "But then I met you guys, and you took over my whole life."

"...Then we met you, and now you're our life." Your heartbeat picks up at his words. It feels like something is squeezing at your chest in the most pleasant way possible.

Steven never realizes how poet and sweet he can be. You truly believe he just says whatever is on his mind.

"But you still work, and I still need to work..."

"You’re so beautiful, sweetheart, anyone would be lucky to be in your presence, let alone touched by you.”

You bite your bottom lip, hard.

How can he say such wonderful things? Make you feel so tender and loved that you could fall apart under his gentle gaze?

Intense emotions tighten in the back of your throat and all you can do is hold him closer, clutch him until he can feel what you're unable to voice.

"I love you, Steven. You know that right?" It's barely rasped out, but he hears it.

"Of course, darling." He pecks the top of your head, "You know I love you more, though."

A smile pulls at your lips, "Impossible. I love you so much you can't even comprehend it."

He chuckles before offering his rebuttal, "Well actually..."

---

Jake (NSFW 18+):

Jake took it as well as you thought he would...

His hand squeezes lightly at the sides of your throat, testing the waters as he continues to rapidly thrust into you. You wince as his fingers dig into the fresh bruises that he suckled into your skin earlier.

“Bet they wish they could fuck you like this...feel you quiver around their cock," You groan as he angles his cock to drag against the walls of your cunt, expertly nudging against that explosive spot inside of you. "But they can’t, because your mine, right honey?”

You nod wordlessly, barely able to comprehend what he said.

He buries himself deep inside of you with a huff and holds himself there until you're squirming under him. "Right?" He grits out, frustrated with your lack of response.

Your body shakes as his cock continues to press flush against the back of your cunt, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure all over. You feel so full, completely stretched, and filled to the brim; you can barely move without crying out.

"Yes, yes, please, Jake, I'm yours--"

He pulls out briefly before swiftly pushing back in and it feels like you had the wind knock out of you. "That's right, baby, take it. Show 'em who you belong to."

You shutter out breathes as he works himself into your body, holding you down so you can't move a muscle without him knowing. Sloppy sounds remind you just how needy you are for him, how much you love it when he treats you like this.

Jake lets you go and work for clients, but he'll be damned if you go without his mark on you. Without a physical reminder that you're his.

It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just doesn't trust them.

You're the perfect woman, someone he couldn't resist when he was just a client to you. So how can he be sure your other clients won't try to woo you like he did?

"Fuck, honey," He growls, grinding his hips against yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible so he can cum deep inside of you. "You're so good to me, letting me do this when you gotta be on set in an hour..."

Your head is tilted back, and eyes are closed tight as you desperately try to hold back your orgasm, waiting for him. You whine as he rubs your clit, legs trembling around him.

"Please, Jake, cum for me...c-cum inside..."

"You gonna keep it all in for me, baby? Keep me stuffed inside of you as you jerk some loser off?" You cry, clenching around him as he coos at you, unable to hold back anymore.

"Mm... that’s right, honey, let go. Go ahead, soak me." He grunts when he feels you flutter around him and pushes in deeper, enjoying how tight you get when he talks dirty to you.

You writhe pathetically under him as you ride out your high, whimpering as he sharply fucks a few last thrusts into you before painting your walls with warmth. He fills you so much it starts to drip out of you as he pulls out.

His fingers push it back in before anymore could escape and ruin the couch under you. He hums thoughtfully as he fingers you, making sure you're all filled up for the day.

"Looks like you're ready for work." His eyes drift over your lust bitten lips, the marks covering your neck, and the mess at the center. He smirks, proud of his work.

"Thanks, baby." You smile sweetly.

You really do have the best boyfriends in the world...

#anon #pornstar!moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant fluff #jake lockely smut #marc spector fluff #too many tags

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mikareo · 1 year ago

Text

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does.

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers.

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk.

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him.

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other.

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears.

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth.

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know.

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good.

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things.

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard.

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!”

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along.

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you.

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago.

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you.

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back.

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him.

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before.

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?”

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right.

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls.

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay.

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased.

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it.

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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stvolanis · 1 year ago

Text

Broken Heartstrings

(one shot)

warnings : dom & sub dynamics, Elvis is kinda abusive, age gap, INACCURATE TIME LINE, angst, Elvis is suspected of cheating,pet-names (baby, doll, darlin’, satin), a hint jealousy (Elvis and OC), manipulation, toxic relationship, OC is naive and kinda (not really) innocent, smut includes degradation (slut, brat), praising, dubcon-ish I guess, spitting, p in v sex, oral (f receiving),size kink, slapping (not hard enough to hurt), man handling, overstimulation, spitting, house wife kink (if you squint), stomach bulge, make-up sex, and overall rough sex. Sorry if I missed anything <3

this is my first story I’ve written for Tumblr, so it won’t be the greatest and might be poorly written to some, but I had fun writing it so enjoy to those who are interested :)

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the days grew longer as the nights seemed to be getting unbearably shorter. Lucy was sitting on a tall bar stool swinging her little frilly sock covered feet back n’ forth as she waited for her husband to get to their shared home. It was late, ‘round 12:30 and he hadn’t shown up to the dinner she had graciously prepared for the both of them. The food was getting cold and her appetite was fading, being replaced by a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t seem to pin.

The couple had their ups and downs, as any other, but lately it seemed to be more downs. he’d come home late, his hair and clothes disheveled. sometimes he’d smell like cheap women’s perfume and other times he’d smell like gin and whiskey. he’d come home with an attitude, and take it out on Lucy since she was the closest one around. She knew he was struggling, but Elvis Presley was not one for opening up and receiving help.

the drinking and coming home late started happening after his mother passed away. he didn’t know how else to cope, so he did what he’d see his father do. he’d been chasing a high he’d never be able to reach, but his determined mind wouldn’t falter. one more drink. one more show. one more hit of whatever he was on in the moment or could get his hands on. anything to help relive the aching in his chest. It was like a poison that spread through his body, draining his energy and overtaking him. but he kept on falling deeper and deeper

but there was her. Lucy. the sweet little 20 year old who kissed his worries and pains away. Lucy, who made him feel like a young school boy all over again. Lucy , who batted her pretty eyelashes up at him when she needed some loving. Lucy, who’d perch herself on his lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he was exhausted from shows, telling him everything he already knew, but it was coming from her, so he’d hear it a million more times if he could. Lucy, who was so sickeningly sweet and naive, she didn’t realize that not everyone wanted wanted to be just her friend.

Elvis didn’t like that.

Elvis knew he scored with Lucy. He knew that she was the purest thing he’d ever be able to obtain in his lousy life. the freshest, kindest and most beautiful little daisy in a field of weeds. Sure, people were throwing themselves at him left and right, but they weren’t real. Girls always on his arm, yet they only cared for his charm, fame and money. Only cared about fucking their way to the top just to be a nice trophy wife on the arm of some rich piece of shit. Running them dry. But Lucy was never like that.

Lucy was from a small town. A southern bell, and a hard worker who took care of her sick mother for as long as she could remember. She always seen the good in people, even when it seemed invisible to others. Her hearts too big for her delicate body, or at least that’s what her momma used to tell her. Lucy worked at a busy diner on the outskirts of her town, and traveling people were always in and out. So it was no surprise to her when Elvis Presley had shown up in a white button down, dark jeans and polished dress shoes with his friends following behind him.

Ever since that day, Elvis made it his mission to be with her. attached at the hip since they laid eyes on each other, and neither of them would have it any other way. But once her husband started touring again, their honeymoon phase was soon ending and arose more arguments, aggression and finger-pointing.

Elvis had promised to have a nice, civilized dinner with his wife as long as she cooked the food and not one of the maids. For hours, Lucy had been feeling waves of excitement as she cooked all day, creating a nice big meal for them to enjoy together for once. It had been so long since they sat down for dinner together. But alas, he was no where to be found.

She looked down at her hands that were between her thighs as she felt her eyes begin to water and her breathing uneven. of course he wouldn’t have come. what was she thinking? as tears began to fall, it seemed as though they wouldn’t stop. The girl wept as she began to throw away the food she had worked so hard to make.

Soon, that sadness and disappointment turned into a bubbling anger in her core. How could he do this to her? Why did she always have to be the one waiting around? She hated feeling reliant on him for the smallest things. Time, attention, love. Things no one else had ever cared to give her, but Elvis had so happily. She hated that they always fell into this routine of cat and mouse. And always, just when she’s about to call it quits, he smooth talks his way back into her arms.

Mumbling words of affirmation to her. How much he loves and cares for her, and how no one else will ever love her as much as he does. How she’s such a good housewife for him, always keeping the house together and waiting for his return like a good girl. How beautiful she is, and the things he loves most about her.

as the anger bubbled in her stomach, she could hear the booming laugh of Elvis through the halls as he cracked jokes with his choice of friends for the nights and all Lucy could feel was disgust. how could she have been so dumb?

In that moment, Lucy decided she’d had enough. She slammed the door open to the kitchen and marched her way through the long halls till she got to the entrance of the house where Elvis stood in all his glory. Oh, how pretty he looked. His smile becoming bigger as he laid eyes on his wife who wore a white, off the shoulder sundress and frilly white socks. she seemed so small and frail compared to him.

But his smile soon faded as he took notice of her puffy red eyes, red nose and trembling lips and worry consumed him. “Woah, darlin’, what’s goin on?” He asked as he took off his coat and laid it on a small round table. Lucy scoffed. “Are you fuckin’ serious, Elvis?” She said dryly as she squinted her eyes.

Elvis clenched his jaw, clearly displeased. “Watch ya mouth when ya talk to me, ya hear?” He said sternly as he pointed a finger at her. Lucy rolled her pretty green eyes. “Where were you? Huh? You were out with women, weren’t you? I can smell them on you Elvis!” She shouted as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

He groaned as he lazily dragged a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout, Lucy? I ain’t been with no women other than you!” He shouted back as he flared his arms out with a dry laugh. “I’m done with your lies, Elvis.” She said as she harshly wiped her tears and turned to leave.

Elvis made quick work of grabbing her arm and spinning her back around, harshly pushing her against the wall as his hand snaked up and snugly wrapped around her neck. Lucy was taken aback, Elvis had never put his hands on her in a way she didn’t like before.

“Dammit, woman, what’s it gonna take for you to calm down and stop accusin’ me of bullshit every damn day?!” He yelled out in her face. Lucy’s body wracked with sobs, and only then did Elvis realize what he’d done. He shakily removed his hands, but didn’t move away from her and instead caged her body in with his slender arms.

Lucy pushed harshly against his chest, trying to create some distance between them but Elvis wasn’t having it as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Let me go, Elvis!” She said, her voice hoarse and broken. “Need ya to calm down first, baby.” He replied as he watched her body tremble

“Oh I need to calm down? How fucking funny coming from the man who just choked me out!” She laughed out dryly as she shot him a look of disgust and anger. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with this attitude you got. After everything I do for you, this is how you wanna act?! Huh?!” He yelled as he began dragging her up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Stop it Elvis, you’re hurting me!” Lucy weakly yelled as his grip tightened around her wrists, surely to leave marks the next morning. Elvis played deaf as he harshly threw her onto their bed, slamming the door shut and swiftly locking it. Lucy’s body bounced as she made contact with the bed before sitting up, ready to speak again till Elvis cut her off.

“Strip.” Was all Elvis said. His voice thick, deep and velvety. Such a sweet sound. If only the words coming out weren’t laced with disappointment and dissatisfaction towards the helpless girl on the bed. Her eyes widened and her words got caught in her throat. Again. Why does this always happen? right when she’s about to stand up for herself, she always backs down the very last second and the cycle continues and worsens each time. But it’s addicting.

Sickeningly enough, she thrives in it. She’s become so accustomed to it, she wouldn’t remember how to live like a normal couple again. The toxicity of their relationship kept her on her toes, and deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. How boring it would be. She knew Elvis wasn’t with other Women, because if he was it would be the cover of every times magazine and she wouldn’t hear the end of it from her friends and family. She knew the perfume she smelled on him was his mommas favorite.

As her shakey hands met the fabric of her white dress and began pulling it off of her body, Elvis rolled up his sleeves and drunk in the sight in front of him. almond green eyes, plump lips and a cute button nose that’s still slightly reddened from her crying. long chocolate brown hair. Full breasts with perky, sensitive nipples that sat ever so perfectly. slim hips and meaty thighs with a round ass to top it all off. But god, how he adored how small she is compared to him.

How tiny she is, is one of his favorite parts about her, and oh, how he used it to his advantage in the most vile ways. it was so easy for someone as big as him to completely destroy her. and that’s exactly what he does.

“Please,Elvis, m’ sor-” she tried, but Elvis wasn’t having it. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ thing from ya, baby.” He said roughly as he gripped her hair at the base and craned her neck up to look at him. her hands gripped his shirt and she felt her slick between her thighs at his tone.

Elvis brought his hand up to her mouth and Lucy stuck her tongue out, welcoming her husbands fingers that harshly hit the back of her throat, making her gag and eyes water. Elvis clicked his tongue. “How can ya take my cock when ya can’t even take my fingers, darlin’?” He chuckled out.

Her mouth closed around his fingers and she began to suck them seductively and Elvis felt his pants tighten at the sight. Pretty eyes staring back up with him, trying to prove she can.

Always a hard worker, huh?

Elvis smirked at the thought as he removed his fingers and instead harshly pushed her upper body down onto the bed, spreading her legs as he dropped to his knees. his mouth watered at the sight. Her cunt was puffy and pink, bud swollen with need and begging for attention. Her slick was seeping out, and there was a wet patch on the sheets of the bed where she had been sitting that was dark and visible. It was such a pretty sight for a starving man.

He spread her lower lips and dragged his tongue between the welt folds, gathering all of her essence. He hummed at the taste of her on his tongue before savoring it for a moment. Then, he sucked her clit into his mouth with such force, her back painfully arched. His tongue skillfully played with her overly-sensitive bud, teasing and sucking as her thighs closed in around his head.

Elvis was pussy drunk. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of his sweet girl. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t care about anything besides making Lucy come as many times as she could on his tongue. He prodded a finger at her sopping entrance before slowly sinking them in, letting them sit before pulling out and harshly slamming back in. Lucy let out a gasp at the intrusion as he began to finger fuck her tight cunt with no remorse.

The small girl felt the coil in her stomach tighten as her fingers gripped his mop of disheveled hair as she pushed her cunt further into the dazed mans face. Elvis curled his fingers in her before sucking her clit harshly one last time, and that’s when it snapped. “Oh my god—Elvis!” She moaned out as she tried to shove his head away from her overstimulated clit, but Elvis wasn’t listening.

“Sucha good girl, satin.” He mumbled against her clit as he felt her juices drip down his chin. God, how sweet she tasted. His entire chin and chest were covered in her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d fuck up a million more times if it meant he could come back home to this.

Lucy panted, out of breath underneath him as he crawled above her sweaty body. He laid the gentlest kisses upon her skin, so tender and sweet. The flutter of his lips against her stomach had her insecurities seeping away into the cracks of the floor boards. The suckle of her nipples, and the releasing ‘pop’, followed by the countless hickies laid where they both knew only he would be able to see had her blushing madly. The caressing of her neck and the soft kiss against her lips made her forget the reason this all started to begin with.

“Ya with me, baby?” He asked. “Yes, Elvis. ‘M here.” She softly replied. Elvis took that as his sign to tighten his hold around Lucy’s neck, lifting her slightly to better look her in the eye. “Good, ‘cause I’m gon’ show ya what happens to ungrateful brats when I’m done with ya.” He said harshly as he slapped the side of her cheek with his free hand, but not hard enough to actually hurt. Just hard enough to know he was gonna fuck her into oblivion.

He spread Lucy’s legs, slapping her puffy, over-sensitive cunt. She softly moaned at the impact, making Elvis chuckle. “Fuckin’ slut.” He muttered as he lined his throbbing cock to her entrance. Elvis inhaled deeply as he slowly pushed his tip in, teasingly pulling it in and out a few times. Lucy whined. “Elvis-” she began. “Shut up, ya take what I give ya, brat.” He said sternly as he gripped her hair. Lucy nodded I obediently as she whimpered out a small ‘sorry’.

Suddenly, the larger man bullied his way inside her wet cunt and she could feel his hair against her throbbing clit. She moaned out as her hand grabbed the arm Elvis was holding her leg up with to ready herself. Elvis spared no mercy as he ruthlessly began bucking his hips into hers, not waiting for her to adjust to his size. She felt like heaven to him, after all, he’d trained her pussy to perfectly fit his cock since the night of their wedding, but after so long of going without being inside of her, she’d tightened up again. Elvis hissed as her walls squeezed him before throwing his head back and letting out a deep groan.

Lucy gripped the sheets below her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the beast on top of her used her cunt like she was a rag-doll solely for his pleasure. “Tight fuckin’ cunt, all for me, mama. Takin’ my dick so well, just like I taught ya, baby.” He said between breaths. Her chest fluttered at his praise, and her cunt squeezed tighter around him. “Ya like that, hm? Like when I tell ya how good you are to me. How nice you fit around my cock. My good girl.” He muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed her hips with such force, they’d be sure to leave a mark.

“Yes, Yes, fuck—yes Elvis. ‘M your good girl. All yours.” Lucy replied through loud moans, her breasts bouncing with ever rough thrust he planted. Something snapped in Elvis at that, and he threw her legs over his shoulder, hitting a new angle. Just the right spot to make her vision blurry and seeing stars. Her back arched as his fingers found her clit, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing it just the right way that made that familiar coil tighten again.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Elvis! p-please mm- lemme cu-cum!” She stuttered out through moans. Elvis reveled in her satisfying sounds, every thrust sent him into orbit as he became pussy drunk, completely consumed in her. He could feel her everywhere. Her soft hands all over him. Her cunt squeezing the life out of him as she was on the brink of an orgasm. the pleas of her crying aloud. Her eyes watering as she stared up at him, overstimulated.

“Hold it, ‘m almost there, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” Elvis replied as his hips shot further into hers. The sound of their sweaty skin echoed through the room, and surely could be heard through the halls. Elvis took notice of the prominent bulge on her stomach, groaning at the sight of him filling her to the brim. He pressed his hand against it. “Feel that? ‘M right here, doll.” He said, his voice laced with desire. Lucy merely whimpered, still trying to hold back on her orgasm.

The sudden pressure on her lower stomach made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she felt the coil once again snap, releasing all her juices on Elvis’ lower stomach for a second time. But Elvis wasn’t done yet as he kept his pace of pounding into her. “Please, I can’t-” she moaned out, Elvis slapped her cheek. “I told ya to fuckin’ wait, but you just hadda be a slut, huh? you’re done when I say ya are.” He hissed. Lucy moaned at the contact of his hand against her cheek before nodding her head vigorously.

Elvis felt his stomach grow tighter as he was closer and closer to finishing. “‘M almost there, j-just ho-hold on f’me, mama.” He stuttered out through the waves of euphoric feelings. All of his senses were overwhelmed and his body felt hot to the touch like it was on fire as sweat dripped down him. He slammed his cock into Lucys overstimulated cunt a few more times sloppily before his hips stilled inside of her.

Elvis soon pulled out and watched as cum dripped out of her sopping, pulsing hole before taking two of his slender fingers and stuffing it back in. “Don’t want it to go to waste, now do we?” He said with a smirk as Lucy’s body wracked with spasms as his fingers penetrated her. Lucy’s hand reached out and stilled his movements with a small whimper. “No more Elvis, ‘s too much.” She whined.

Elvis sighed. “Alright, satin, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he got up and went into their shared bedroom to retrieve a wet cloth before coming back and gently wiping off both of their juices from her sore cunt. Lucy sighed contently as Elvis pressed a few lingering kisses on her thighs and stomach. “You did so good.” Elvis said against her lips before softly kissing her.

“Want you to hold me, please, Elvis.” She muttered back with a cheeky smile. Elvis let out a small laugh, eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Whatever you want, Lucy.” He replied as he laid in bed next to her, bringing her closer and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. She drew small patterns on his naked chest and smiled contently when she felt his hands begin to massage her scalp.

“Yknow I love ya, right?” Elvis said as he glanced down at her in his arms.

“I know, Elvis. I love you too.”

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#70s elvis #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fandom #elvis fans #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n

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mediocre-writerr · 2 years ago

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hiii!!! Congratulations on 2k! Can i request a wandaxfem!reader where r feels like wanda doesn't love her the same way she does. then r gets terribly injured in a mission and all her insecurities washes away when she wakes up in the med bay with wanda holding her hand... “i’ll be fine for tonight with you by my side, but don’t you know you’re my lifeline) - (lifeline, joshua bassett)

lifeline [wanda maximoff]

warnings: stab wounds, explosion, mentions of breathing tubes, mentions of hospitals, slight mention of throwing up, a few curse words, tried to be accurate, but probably inaccurate medical terminology and scenarios

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

*not my gif*

“Nat?” Wanda asks. Her phone pressed against her cheek as she stirred dinner for the rest of the team.

She could hear the sounds of beeping and mumbling from the other line. The ex-assassin clears her throat, “Wanda something happened on the mission,” her heart dropped into the pits of her stomach. “Y/N got injured…really bad, actually. Her injuries are so severe that Fury recommended we go straight to the hospital. We had to take her to hospitall. I think you should fly out here as soon as you can.”

There was a pause of silence. Neither of the two girls really know what to say. Wanda’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to find words. Nat cleared her throat again, “You may want to hurry. Doc said she may only have twelve hours.” Natasha’s voice cracking rings in the witch’s ears.

All of a sudden the phone felt heavy, like she was holding the weight of five elephants in the palm of her hand. The phone crashed onto the floor with a soft thump, catching the attention of Clint and Steve who were setting up the table for dinner. Their eyes land on the distressed girl, “Wanda? What happened?” Steve asked, stepping hesitantly closer to her. His blue eyes searching her green ones, trying to read what had just happened.

The girl couldn’t form words though. Her throat felt tight as tears started to build like towers. Clint picked the phone from off the floor, hearing Nat’s voice speak muffled against the line, “Nat? What’s going on?” His confused expression slowly turns into an urgency as he looks at his Captain. He hangs up the phone quickly, “Steve get the quinjet ready, we need to go. Now.”

Clint wrapped the younger Avenger into his arms, holding her tighter than ever before, “She’s going to be okay.”

It was a simple mission, really, to stake out the Hydra infested warehouse, once it's empty, get in there and steal intel. A mission you and Nat have done countless times. You should’ve known that it would end in disaster when you thought to yourself ‘Oh this is easy! I could be home for dinner!’ Whenever someone says that, it never ends well.

The warehouse was set up in a series of buildings, so it was hard to tell if it was fully cleared. Maybe that’s how you should’ve known it wasn’t going to end well. But honestly, during the stakeout you were falling asleep at the wheel. Your best friend’s arm nudged your side with her elbow, “Usually you’re bouncing off the walls, annoying the crap out of me. What gives?”

You rub your eyes, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “Wanda and I had this huge fight before I left,” you let out a soft sigh, crossing your arms over your cloth and spandex mashed suit.

Natasha’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “But you never leave each other on a sour note before a mission.”

You nod, letting out a soft sigh, “I know hence why I could not get any sleep on the way over here.”

“Are you guys okay?”

“No, I don’t know. I hope so. It was a pretty rough one. So rough that we didn’t even say goodbye to one another before I left. ”

She squeezes your shoulder, “Do you want to talk about it?” Which you just merely shook your head in response. It wasn’t something you wanted ingrained in your head as you were about to fight loads of Hydra agents, “Alright, well, let’s just hope you don’t have a web block when we’re in there. I know how you get when the two of you fight. Now c’mon let’s get in, so we can get home for dinner!”

You throw on your mask, opening your arms up for the Russian, “C’mon little spider,” she rolls her eyes at you. Muttering under her breath about how your powers are literally ones of a spider before she clung onto you, as you swung the two of you onto the roof of the warehouse.

The warehouse was huge, as you and Nat snuck in through the air ducts. You and Nat glance at each other, already discussing earlier how you want to split up the search. She extends her hand out for the two of you to do your secret handshake, in your own way telling one another to be safe, before she splits in the opposite direction from you.

Towards the back of the building, there was one of these hallways leading you into the next building over, so you quickly made your way through. You froze in your spot, your spidey senses tingling, and you could feel someone’s presence around you. Before you could dodge out of the way, the HYDRA agent launched himself at you, tackling you into the crates behind you, pain shooting through your spine. The shock of the attack paralyzed you for a second, before your spidey senses kicked in and you dodged the punch that was coming. You kicked the agent square in the chest, lifting yourself up in the process.

From the corner of your eye you could see a bomb strapped onto one of the SHIELD agents who recently joined, pressing your finger to your ear piece, “Nat! There’s a bomb! They knew we were coming! You need to get out of here!”

“There is no way I am leaving you!” She shouts, “Where in the warehouse are you? I’ll get to you!”

A sharp pain shot through your body, as the HYDRA agent pulled a knife out your side. You let out a yelp in pain before you webbed him onto the wall, “Y/N! What was that noise?!” Nat yells.

You shook your head even though she couldn’t see you, “Never mind that! Call Fury, tell him we need someone who can disarm this. There’s an agent strapped to it,” you rushed over to the panicked agent with his mouth covered in duct tape. Inspecting the wires and the time that read 4 hours, you didn’t notice the way he was thrashing about, like he was trying to warn you about something.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise filled your ears, causing you to flinch back. The red numbers, quickly turning to 30 seconds. Your eyes flickered to the trapped HYDRA agent who had the explosive trigger in his hand and a smug smirk on his face, “Hail Hydra,” he repeated, resting his head against the wall as he accepted his fate.

“Nat! You need to go now! Run! Please!” you frantically looked at the wires, trying to figure out how to disarm it. The SHIELD agent in front of you sobbing as he shook his head, looking at the time.

“You need to go too, Y/L/N!” Nat screamed into your ear piece., “Please, Wanda will never forgive me if you blow up right now! I will never forgive you!”

You pulled off the agent’s duct tape, “Hey! I need you to take a breath for me!” you rushed out, trying to get his attention, “Do you know how to stop this thing?” He shook his head frantically.

20 seconds.

“Alright, well I’m going to get this off of you and we’re going to get out of here together!” you quickly tried to untie the ropes that surrounded his wrists, mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a weapon other than your webs. Your side became more and more painful, but you needed to get both of you out of here.

15 seconds.

You frantically start to rip off all the duct tape that strapped the bomb to his clothing, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” you muttered to yourself over and over again.

“Y/N! I’m coming to you! Where are you?!” Nat’s insistent screaming in your ear piece only causes your heart to race more. You rip the bomb off of him and he exhales out a sigh of relief, as he stands up next to you, but immediately falls onto the ground.

You didn’t even notice the way his legs are bruised and broken, most likely from all the torture he endured from HYDRA. You wrap his arm around your shoulders, lifting him up with all the strength you can.

10 seconds.

In the corner of your eye, you notice how fast the clock was trying to tick down. The pressure of him leaning against your little wound caused you to hiss out in pain. You scramble towards the hallway, desperate to try and get out of this side of the warehouse. Your vision slowly became more blurry, yet the sight of your own blood staining your torn suit was so vivid.

4 seconds.

You hadn’t been able to get very far, even though it felt like you were miles away from the secluded corner. You had barely made it out of the room it was trapped in. It was as if a lightbulb went off in your head, and you stopped in your tracks. “What are you doing?!” your fellow agent yells at you, “Why are we stopping?!”

“There’s no way we can escape the bomb in time, but I can try and limit the explosion,” you tell him, trying to explain as calmly as possible.

You turn your bodies around, extending your wrists toward the bomb in the corner. You shoot your web…but nothing comes out. You flick your wrist again and again and again. Each time growing more frantic.

“You’re joking!” you exclaimed.

3 seconds.

“What?! What’s going on?!” the agent yelled.

You shook your head, “Forget that idea! We need to leave now!”

The two of you turned back around and you tried to run towards the end of the hallway as fast as you could. Ignoring the burning pain in your side and the weight of his body against yours. But it was too late.

It was the loudest thing you had ever heard. The echoing boom rang in your ears, as you collapsed onto the other side of the warehouse, as debris started falling all around you. Everything felt too bright as a hot stinging pain ripped through your whole body. You tried to get up, but felt a sharp sting in your leg. A piece of rubble that was on fire rested on the top of your leg, too heavy to move it out. Your eyes fluttered open and closed, slowly becoming heavier and heavier. A thick liquid pooled from underneath you. Nat’s red hair came into your blurry view.

Nat let out a soft gasp as she noticed how part of your face was burnt, “Hey Y/N, come on keep your eyes open for me, okay? The ambulance and the fire department are here. They’re gonna get you out of here,” she whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. But her rare soft voice did the exact opposite as it made your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

When the firemen got you out of there, you were hardly alive. Your breathing could barely be seen or felt, your throat and lungs burnt that you could barely inhale any air. Your heartbeat was irregular and often skipped. Your spandex suit was burned into your flesh and it was surprising that you could even be recognized by how severe some of your burns are.

Honestly, it was a miracle that you were still alive. Something the paramedics and firemen could barely understand.

Nat could barely look at you, she tried her hardest to stay strong, but an overwhelming sense of fear seeped into her bloodstream. While the paramedics struggled to keep you stable on the helicopter, Nat let tears fall onto her lap, looking out at the view. Only looking at you when a deafening beeping sound could be heard, right before you landed.

Your heart stopped beating.

Wanda’s knee bounced up and down all throughout the flight in the quinjet. Natasha hasn’t been giving them updates, there wasn’t much to give after she called you.

They managed to stabilize you, but it was all about if you were going to survive the night. Joining the Avengers came with loads of paperwork. One of them being, what would you want if you had extreme injuries. Basically a DNR form. You were indecisive, so you wrote out what you wanted. If something were to happen to you, you give the doctors 24 hours to do all they could, and if it didn’t work, well that’s when you call it quits.

SHIELD actually follows it very well, like the agent you saved? He wanted them to do everything they could to keep him alive. Everything. He did not want them to stop trying. So, after the doctors managed to stabilize you, they tried to take you off the ventilator to see if you would breathe on your own, but you crashed. You couldn’t do it. That’s when the countdown began, if they couldn’t get you off and breathing by yourself in 12 hours, per your request you want them to pull it.

A muffled sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she thought more about it. In 12 hours, she could lose the love of her life and the last time she saw her ended poorly.

Wanda takes the elevator up to the tower. Her breath smelling slightly of alcohol from her spontaneous night out with Vision. The two have been on mission after mission lately, so Vision thought it would be nice to have a break. She was going to go straight to her room, but she figured it would be best to get an Advil and water in her before she regretted the drinks in the morning. The elevator dinged and she stumbled through it and to the kitchen, where she found you. You were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the window sill. A couple plates of food sat in front of you as you sipped slowly on a glass of wine.

“Love? What are you doing? It’s late,” Wanda asked, snaking her hands around your neck from behind. She flinched back as you stood up, looking at her with a hard glare that she has never been on the receiving end of, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Last week, you promised that we would have a date night for my birthday. You and I have been so busy with missions and training, so when you didn’t show, I just assumed that you were running late with training. Then hours ticked by, and our teammates would come in and look at me with such sympathetic eyes because they knew how much this meant to me because that was all I would talk about for the last week. Peter even came by with a cake and sad eyes because he heard about what happened,” you ranted to her and Wanda looked to the ground in shame. “Yesterday was my birthday Wanda. Yet, you go out with Vision! Of all fucking people! You didn’t wish me a happy birthday, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t see me all day! All because you were with Vision! And we all know how much you love his attention!”

The words fell from your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying, Wanda’s shame quickly turned to defensiveness as she stared at your tear stained cheeks, “I may have forgotten your birthday and I’m sorry, but is this really about forgetting your birthday or is this about Vision? It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“Yes, I’m jealous Wanda! And I have every right to be! You and Vision have some sort of connection because of a fucking stone implanted into his head!” You scream.

She shook her head, “He’s my friend, Y/N! Am I not allowed to have friends?”

“I never fucking said that you can’t have friends! Jesus Wanda do you hear yourself?” you bring your voice down to a softer tone, realizing that a screaming match isn’t gonna help fix this, “You forgot my birthday…the Wanda I fell in love with would have never done that. I don’t ask much of you. I just want to spend a couple days with my girlfriend and for her to remember my birthday. All I wanted was a kiss from her and for her to tell me that she loves me, yet you haven’t said that to me a lot recently. Look, I’m going on a mission with Nat in a couple hours. While I’m gone, I guess just think if you really want to be with me still.”

And you walked away without another word.

Of course, Wanda loved you. It was just the fear of the unknown that has made her put a wall up between the two of you. Everything and everyone she has loved, she has lost. Her parents, Pietro, it was only a matter of time before she lost you too. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she loses you.

Wanda bursts into the waiting room, met by several confused eyes from the staff and patients. Steve and Clint followed right behind her, the two of them more rational than she was. They ask for your room number and as soon as she hears the answer she sprints down the hallways and straight to your room.

Natasha sat in the corner of the cold room, watching distantly, like she was off on another planet. She didn’t even notice the Sokovian bursting in. Wanda’s eyes flash to you, your frail body lying in bed. All the color was drained from your face and a burn lingered along your cheeks. She inspected you further, noticing the burns that lingered all over your body. The beeping from the machines echoes in her ears as a wave of nausea overcomes her at the sight of a tube stuck in your throat. All she wants is to hold you, but she’s afraid that if she does you’ll crumble.

She took a seat next to you carefully reaching for your hand. She wanted to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, and that she was sorry, “Hey Wanda,” Nat finally came to her senses, noticing her teammate sitting next to you.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” her voice cracked, as hot tears blurred her vision.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t-“ Nat took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I couldn’t find her in time. I was trying to find her, to help her save the other SHIELD agent, but before I could, the bomb went off and she…I’m so sorry Wanda. I should’ve protected her. I couldn’t protect her.”

Wanda reaches for her hand, squeezing it, “It’s okay, Nat. You couldn’t have known,” Clint and Steve finally burst into the room. Clint immediately goes over to console his best friend, while Wanda turns her attention back onto you.

The doctor knocks on the door, giving all of you sympathetic smiles, “Hello everyone. Agent Y/L/N is in very critical condition. The injuries she endured have taken an enormous toll on her mental and physical health. It’s an absolute miracle that we were able to stabilize her. However, the burns and the stab wound are the least of our worries. The smoke inhalation caused her vocal chords to swell which may cause some permanent damage, but we had to do a tracheotomy to help her breathe.”

Wanda’s heart stopped, the reality and severity finally catching up to her. All of the things she dreamed of doing with you. The life you wanted to share with her. Another wave of nausea hit her like a freight train, “And per Agent Y/L/N’s paperwork with SHIELD, later tonight we’re going to try and see if she could breathe on her own and if not, she has asked us to pull the plug. If there’s anyone who’s not here, who you guys think would love to see her, I suggest calling them now,” he clears his throat, trying to stay professional. “I recommend trying to talk to her, coma induced patients tend to be more responsive when they hear their loved ones.”

With that, he leaves the room, a tense air filling the room once more. Steve clears his throat, ignoring the tears trying to swim in his ocean eyes, “I’m going to make some calls and ask if anyone would like to see Y/N. Tony will get them here as soon as possible.”

And just like that Avengers started swarming in like wildfire. Clint called Laura and brought the kids along with her, whenever Clint and Laura needed a date night you’d be there to help babysit the kids. So, to say you were an important part of the family was an understatement.

Tony and Pepper showed up with Peter. Tony and Bruce tried to talk to the doctor as much as they could, asking a million questions about what they’ve tried and what they haven’t tried to help your condition. Thor and Valkyrie even showed up from Asgard, just in case this was the last time they’d see you.

Wanda took a step back, allowing everyone who came to visit you to talk to you, to possibly say their goodbyes. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to you just yet. She watched as some people weren’t afraid to shed a tear, retelling some of their favorite memories with you. While others tried their best to stay strong, demanding you that you’d breathe on your own.

She watched as your room piled up with flowers in the worst way possible. Peter even brings you a small stuffed spider he got at the zoo. Her breathing became more uneven as she watched a usually strong Yelena shed a few tears for her chosen sister, Kate and Natasha, even having to console the younger Russian.

Wanda needed an out, she needed to get some air. Luckily, Bucky came around, “C’mon, let’s go for a walk. I think you need it.” The witch didn’t even hesitate as she just followed him through the door and out of the hospital. As soon as the cool air hit her face, she ran as quickly as she could to the nearby bush and started to empty whatever she had in her stomach.

Wiping the corner of her mouth, she sat next to Bucky on a nearby bench. Neither of them said anything and honestly it's what Wanda really needed. All Bucky did was rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, before they sat and watched the cars zoom by.

They didn’t know how much time had passed before someone cleared their throat behind them. Steve had a sympathetic smile on his face, “Wanda, it’s almost time doctor said. If you wanna say something to her, now is the time.” Wanda turned to Bucky and he merely nodded in encouragement.

The Sokovian followed back to your room. Everyone must’ve gotten the message that Wanda was coming back, so they were all waiting in the waiting room when she walked in. She took the seat next to your bed, grasping your unusually cold hand.

“Y/N…” she trails off her voice immediately cracking, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I should’ve remembered your birthday. If you wake up, I promise I’ll remember everything. I’ll remember your beautiful eyes looking into mine, like we have our own secret club. I’ll remember the way you turn up the music on the weekend when I’m trying to sleep in and the way you’d jump on the bed and dance to wake me up. I’ll remember the way you’d squeeze my hand three times whenever you realize how anxious I’m getting or to just tell me that you love me.”

Her emerald eyes met the sea as tears filled them. She cupped your cold cheeks, smiling sadly, “I should’ve been honest with you and I should’ve just told you I was scared. I was scared to fall and lose you. But that does not beat how petrified I feel right now, Y/N. I prayed, Y/N. I never pray, I prayed to a God I stopped believing in when my parents were killed. I’m not saying goodbye to you, just yet. I just need you to know that no one else could ever save me, like you did. Not Vision. Not anyone else. You. You saved me and I can’t do this on my own. So, breathe Y/N. Please. You’re my lifeline.”

Yet another knock interrupted her thoughts as the doctor walked in. He smiled sympathetically with Steve, Clint, and Natasha right behind him. “It’s time,” he walks over to your bedside, throwing on gloves as he gets ready for extubation, “Just to explain what we’re looking for, if she can breathe on her own her breathing will look like she’s just sleeping. If her oxygen levels are normal, it means she’s okay. On the other hand, if she isn’t breathing on her own, she’d be gasping for air, and her mouth will be opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her oxygen levels will also be very low.”

All four of them nod, Nat grasping on to Wanda’s free hand, squeezing it tightly. The doctor slowly starts pulling out the tube and Wanda squeezes your hand three times, muttering a quiet please under her breath. All of them hold their own breath, which is ironic. Each one of them watches your chest rise and fall in anticipation.

For what felt like an eternity, the Sokovian felt a weak three squeezes come from your hand, causing her head to shoot up to look at your face. Your eyes flutter open as you stare into the eyes of the love of your life, “You made it,” she whispered under her breath and a tiny smile crossed your lips as you ran your thumb over the back of her hand.

“Hi Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you,” your doctor introduced himself. “We’re gonna recommend you can’t talk until directed to. We’re working on reducing the swelling in your vocal chords.”

You gesture for a pen and paper, your hands shaking slightly. He nodded, handing you a pen and a piece of paper before promising to check up on you later. In the scratchiest of handwriting, Wanda watched as you wrote a little note. A small gasp leaving her lips as you showed her, ‘You’re my lifeline too.’

Wanda rested her hand against your stomach as she cried happily into it. Your free hand that she wasn’t grasping reached for her head, running your fingers through her messy hair, in hopes to let her know that everything will be okay.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered to you.

And all you did was squeeze your hand three times.

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #a mediocre 2k party

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i-wanna-write · 7 months ago

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Never Again - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Prompt: Reader was at work when the outbreak happened, leaving them separated from their spouse. But, through luck and survival, they find eachother

Takes place during season 1

Warnings: some cuss words. Probably some inaccurate timelines cause I haven’t watched season 1 in ages. Awkward Glenn. Crying Daryl.

All the Flufffff

Word: 2170

————————————————————————

You stare at the flames in front of you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders while you fiddle with your knife in your hands. The group you joined only hours ago talk quietly among themselves, wise to keep their voices low to not attract the dead. Rick, the small town sheriff you met a week ago, sits next to his wife with his son in his lap, whom he was finally reunited with, details of his time away from them.

Just a day ago you were fighting for your life in Atlanta, killing the already dead with the small town sheriff by your side. You’re grateful for your past and your knowledge of weaponry as that is a needed skill for survival now. The hunting knives and guns you found now act as an extension of your body, allowing you to protect yourself and stay alive.

You never thought a day would come when those who die would not stay dead. That you would have to stick a knife in your coworkers or patient's skulls to put them down. That you’d hear the crack of their skull as you punctured it to reach their brain so they’d stay down. That you’d be separated from your family, separated from your person.

Yet here you are.

“New girl,” a voice sounds from your right. You turn your gaze from the flames to meet Glenn’s eyes, they Asian kid you owe your life to. “Tell us a little about yourself. I feel like we only know your name.”

‘That’s cause that’s all I shared.’ You think to yourself.

His statement causes the whole group to look at you and you feel a little anxious at all their eyes. You were never one to be the center of attention. You always enjoyed talking one on one and were never a fan of groups. You’ve always been closed off and hesitant to open up to others, yet now everyone seems to want to know more about you.

“Um,” you begin. “Well, you all know my name is Y/N and I found Rick a week ago. Before than I was just on my own trying to survive I guess.”

You’re not really sure what to say, not knowing what information these people want. You just met them today. Sure, you trust Rick and Glenn, but feel so out of place compared to them. Glenn seems to know and get along with everyone and Rick has his family and best friend with him. You don’t have anyone.

“What’d you do before all this?” Shane asks. Ricks best friend, small town deputy, and appointed leader of this group.

You sigh, figuring that the sooner you answer their questions, the sooner the attention is off you.

“I was a Physician's Assistant in the ER at a hospital.” You reveal.

Shane whistles. “Damn, so you're a doctor then?”

Everyone seems to get excited at the idea of having a doctor in the group.

You shrug. “Not formally but I guess. I would treat those that came into the ER and had past rotations in the OR, assisting with surgeries. But I always liked the front line and helping people get to the surgery. Not during or after.”

Everyone seems to nod at that answer, seeing the sense

It’s quiet for a moment and you’re glad, hoping the conversation is over and a new one will be picked up.

“What about your family?” A blonde asks.

You look over at her and think it’s Andrea who asked it, or Amy. You’re not quite sure but know they're both blondes and sisters.

“I’m an only child and both my parents have been dead awhile.” You state, not getting into the details.

“What about a boyfriend? Fiance? Husband?” The other blonde asks. Now you think this one is Amy, the younger of the sisters. “I mean, you’re so pretty. Were you single before all this?”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you even more, if that is possible. You begin to feel your heartbeat increase and your throat begins to feel as if it’s going to close. This is the question you didn’t want to be asked.

“Yeah, you mentioned you were looking for someone.” Rick chimes into the conversation.

Your hand automatically flies to your necklace, fiddling what’s around the chain. So many memories come back to you at once and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

“I-“ you clear your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay before taking a breath to calm yourself. “Yes. I mean no, I wasn’t single before all this. I’m married.” You reveal.

“What?” and “You’re married?” and “I’m so sorry.” are heard all at once.

You close your eyes to take another calming breath, opening them to only stare back at the flames.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m married.”

You can't stand it. You know that if you look away from the fire you’ll see it - the pitying glances. Their looks of sympathy. Rick just reunited with his wife and son and you can’t help but feel jealous, wishing it was you and your husband who were cuddled around the fire instead.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You say, rising to your feet and walking away, needing to get away from the group.

You walk towards some tents, not quite knowing where to go but knowing where you currently don’t want to be. You feel so jealous of Rick and shame fills you because of this. Rick risked his life to help you and vice versa. He’s not only a husband but a father. He deserved to find his family again. He was a sheriff before all this and was shot for Christ sake. He deserves to have found them.

But you still wish you found him.

“Hey.” A voice says.

You turn and see Glenn.

“You probably don’t wanna talk, but I’m here if you wanna…” he trails off.

You smile gratefully, now know what to say.

“You can crash in my tent tonight - not with me of course! I’ll sleep in the RV. Cause, you know, you’re married. Well obviously you know your married but I just mean-“

You cut the rambling kid off, smiling again but this time in amusement.

“Thank you Glenn.” you say, raising your hand. “I appreciate it.”

The kid smiles back and guides you to his tent where you step in and lay down, sleep immediately taking you.

————————————————————————

You wake up to raised voices and immediately grab your knife from under your pillow. You open your eyes and see blue, the past day coming back to you. Atlanta. Wearing a dead man to blend in. The group in the woods. The conversation by the fire.

You sigh, bringing a hand to your face and wiping the sleep from your eyes. You don’t think you should stay with this group. While everyone is nice and open, you feel - you know - that your husband is still out there. You know you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t find him. Whether walking alive or walking dead.

“Hey.” A voice sounds, causing you to quickly turn, knife raised. “Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You’re face to face with Glenn, his head pooping into the opening of the tent, his eyes wide and arms raised. You lower the knife quickly and swallow, glad you didn’t almost kill the poor guy.

“We let you sleep through breakfast since we figured you’d be so tired.” He begins to explain. “I figured the fighting may have woke you up, guess I was right.”

“What’s going on out there?” You question, pulling the blanket off of you and beginning to rise, your back popping from the night of sleeping on the ground.

“I forgot you weren’t with us yet when we were on the roof.” Glenn begins to explain, motioning for you to follow.

You stand up and exit the tent with him. You’re both standing away from the main clearing where all the action is and you’re glad, never being a fan of drama.

“We were on a roof to escape the dead and handcuffed one of our group to it. He was a real ass. And racist.” Glenn starts. “His brother was out hunting and just got back so we had to tell him we left him behind.”

“You saying you left a racist asshole cuffed to a roof surround by the walking dead,” you question, eyebrows raised and hands on your hip

You have no idea how these people were still alive. Their survival levels are next to non existence.

Glenn’s face turns pink and he ducks his head. “He was high out of his mind!” He starts to defend. “You never met Merle but he -“

“Wait who?” You ask, your heart beginning to pound so loud you hear it in your ears.

Merle. Racist asshole. High. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.

“Merle.” Glenn says cautiously as he notices your reaction and starts to get nervous. You can’t possibly know this guy, right? No way this guy is the husband you’re looking for, right? That’d be bad. Not only would they have an angry Daryl to deal with but and angry you as well.

“And his brothers name is…” you trial off.

“Daryl.” Glenn says, motioning for you to follow him towards the fight.

Daryl. Daryl. Daryl.

Merle, racist asshole high out of his mind with a brother named Daryl who was hunting. Hunter. Your Daryl is a hunter with a brother named Merle who also happens to be a racist asshole that's always high.

This is just one large, almost comical, coincidence right? There’s no way this groups Daryl could be your -

“Daryl?” You whisper to yourself as you reach the clearing.

There, in the middle of the commotion, is your husband. Looking just as he did when you saw him weeks ago, only dirtier. Wearing a green tank top and jeans, his hair is still just as short, reaching just long enough to curl near his ears.

‘Hes here.” You think to yourself. ‘He’s alive.’

…And he’s being held in a chokehold.

“Chokehold’s illegal!” He yells and you can’t help the sob that escapes you at the sound of his voice.

“Best file a complaint.” Shane growls back at him.

You don't care what they’re fighting about as you start running towards them. Your legs move the fastest you ever think you’ve ran, so happy and oh so grateful he’s here. He’s alive.

“Daryl!” You yell as you run towards as Shane lets him go.

His head moves faster than you think humanly possible as his eyes lock on you.

“Y/N?” He questions, as if he’s hallucinating and this is just a nightmare. His brother left behind for dead and his wife finally here and safe.

But he soon realized it is real as your body collides with his.

“Daryl!” You sob, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck and jumping into him so your legs can wrap around his waist.

You burry your face in his neck as sobs now escape you freely. Weeks of not seeing him, not knowing if he was dead, walking dead, or alive have finally led to this moment. You finally have your husband back in your arms.

You take a deep breath in and breathe only Daryl. Gasoline mixed with vanilla and spice. You can feel his skin stick to yours due to the heat but you don’t care and just squeeze tighter. Arms wrap tightly around your waist and you feel every inch of Daryl’s body against your own, so happy he’s in your arms again.

The onlookers watch in confusion, happiness, and shock as Daryl Dixon - who was just screaming at everyone in anger - drops to his knees with a women in his arms. They watch as the usually grumpy man appears to cry tears of joy as he buries his head into the neck of the women in his arms.

“Y/N.” Daryl whispers as he squeezes tighter before pulling away to look at you.

Your eyes meet light blue, more gorgeous than the sky during a sunset and you see the tears running down his face, knowing you match his expression. His hands reach up to cup your cheeks before one of his thumbs moves down to stroke your lips.

“You’re here.” He breathes

“You’re here.” You repeat, a bright smile on your face.

“I looked for ya. I did. I wanted to stay at the house for ya but Merle-“

You cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. Cause you’re here. And I’m here. And we’re here. And I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

Daryl leans in, his lips crushing against yours in a kiss that makes your toes curl. You don’t care that everyone is watching. You finally found the person you were looking for. The person that's been there with you through good times and bad. Your person.

Daryl pulls away, his eyes staring into yours as he whispers with your lips so close you can feel his breath upon yours.

“Never again.”

•••

Please lmk how it was!!!

💜 Kenzie

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #Daryl #dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #fluff #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #rick grimes #please read #lmk how it was #hope it’s good

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bananaman-mp3 · 9 months ago

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[ID: A screenshot of a reblog with the blog's url and profile picture scribbled outin red that reads: "...conditionally and only if you never disagree with them? O.o"

the tags underrneath read: "#it never stops baffling me #how fandom turned these two into some idea of love #when the story is literall Naruto obsessign over Sasuke who is not interrsted #and then beating him almost to death because Sasuke doesn't think genocide is good pooitcal move actually #like FFS pls read more mangas people" End ID]

are you serious... if naruto only loved him conditionally why did he risk everything to save him, even when everyone else was set on killing him for being a traitor to konoha?

the guy threw his dignity away, in the eyes of everyone, to defend public enemy #1

he always called sasuke his friend, he never stated that he would only consider him a friend only if he returned as a konoha ninja.

loves him conditionally my ass.

and like- the idea that naruto can only love people that never disagree with him is so fundamentally against his character it's almost comical. if that were true naruto wouldve simply killed nagato. he wouldn't have tried to understand him or talk him out of it the way he did, once he heard his story. he wouldn't have tried talking to obito either. or even neji, konohamaru and inari, as small as those moments look in comparison.

the obsession part would make more sense, given how much he thought about him and wanted him back, to the point even his friends and the girl who was in love with sasuke thought it was too much.

yet the part about naruto beating sasuke up is... weird. they do realize naruto was fighting him because sasukes idea of a revolution meant to martyr himself for the sake of peace, the way his brother did, right?

they do realize that sasuke wanted to kill him at that point too, right? that it wasn't naruto beating a defenseless sasuke, right?

if anything, naruto was leaning on the defensive side and sasuke was the one trying to beat him up. but the were pretty fucking tied in terms of power. thats why he came close to killing sasuke (and viceversa. stop treating sasuke like a weakling.)

now, that doenst mean naruto is completely in the right to simply undermine or ignore konohas wrongdoing just because it only fuels the cycle of violence. naruto himself is victim of konohas shit system, and he has acknowledged many of the problems it caused. he promised to nagato that hed help amegakure when he became hokage.

of course you could argue that narutos methods may not be as effective for change as sasukes more aggressive plan, since systemic change is rarely if ever achievable by working within it. but im not that good with politics so i dont think im the best to talk about it, and that already goes beyond the topic here.

sasukes violent reaction to konohas mistreatment of the uchiha was completely understandable and anyone in his place wouldve don the same. lets make that clear here. i think saying he was highly justified is not a controversial take, at least here. konoha and the shinobi system ARE fucked up.

also, love that 'sasuke is not interested' bit. op, why did sasuke want to kill naruto? tell me.

me when im not interested:

so yeah i think that's a pretty inaccurate take on sasukes feelings towards naruto.

#i know other people would probably do a better job counterarguing but i read that and was so pissed off i just had to run my mouth lmao #sasuke and narutos relationship has consumed me im beyind saving #sns #sasunaru #narusasu #naruto analysis #kinda.....?#sasunarusasu #naruto x sasuke #sasuke x naruto #banana bluhs #sasuke uchiha

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cecedownbad · 1 year ago

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Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 1.

Warnings: Death of a child, made up case, made up case numbers, abusive mother, absent father, no Y/N, there is a last name: Cyrus. Hurt/ Comfort. A two part fic, Spencer is a supportive friend here. Pretty much a whole episode of CM. Probable inaccurate science facts, not that great at writing mysteries, I think, don't mind the weird conclusions. Self indulgent in all it's glory (minus the fem part), my apologies. Proof read but I'm blind so lmk if there are bothersome errors.

Word Count: 4.7k

Based on very sad songs that I won't put up cause we deserve better. Binged all 16 seasons in 2 weeks, it was worth it.

Enjoy

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise."

-Anaïs Nin

"Mom, where's Steven?" A dark room, with nothing but a single bed, and a desk that contained one clock furnished the surroundings. The ticking of the clock resonated within you, each tick causing you to step forward to a door ajar, light seeping through it.

Not too bright, not too dark, moonlight streaming in through the cracks much like a distant scream in a faraway place. "Sweetie? Go back to bed, you have to go to school tomorrow." A still voice poured in, the voice echoed in almost engulfing you but your feet already brought you face to face with what caused all your nightmares. "Steven has not come back from his play time. Where is he, Mom?" Your voice is so soft yet embroidered in concern. "Steven is okay, go back to bed." The woman in front of you smiled, her smile was stretched. Her eyes harboured nothing as if you stared right into the abyss.

Yet, her face was...gone, her eyes were full, her smile, so impeccable but where was her face, why couldn't you remember?

"Oh my sweet girl, you look just like me." She beamed but you stood there confused, to which you backed away from the room and entered your bedroom.

Nothing was out of place, everything remained as it was, like that day, what day was it?

When your eyes took in the room you noticed a small juice box, the very same one Steven had drunk, right after he...wait, who was 'he'?

Then you heard her, "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?" The anger that seethed from her caused nothing but fear to blanket you. She towered over you, whispering, "I took Steven to a better place."

That was when you knew, your little brother, was never coming back from his play time, he was never going to drink his favourite juice again. That was his fault, he just didn't listen to Mother. This is what happens to children who disobey.

You turned around and smiled at her, "Mother," you called out, "I'll be a good girl, I'll never disappoint you."

All the while you quivered, knowing that your little brother was gone for good, "Steven, I'll find you, I promise."

'I promise, Steven...'

'Who's Steven?'

Your eyes shot awake like you'd been shot with a bullet to your gut, 'Ugh, what?' The sudden rush of light filtered in, waking you from your short nap and making you rub and squint your eyes, then you felt how sticky your back had felt, the palms of your hands damp from sweat. 'You were calling out to someone just now, you said, "I'll find you, I promise, Steven" in your sleep.' Spencer questioned you, his eyes gathering that you showed signs of having a bad dream.

'Uh, nothing, it's nothing, just haven't got much sleep, is all.' You brush off the question, looking around, you get up from your seat, taking in that you were returning from a case in Wichita and the team was on the jet back to Quantico. You excused yourself to the bathroom, the size of it and the dim light were not ideal but you needed to freshen up.

Twisting the faucet, you let the water run and washed your face, the cold water woke you up right away. A sudden rush of relief had hit you, a sense of comfort knowing that your bad dream could not seep into reality, the safety of it was that you knew nothing could get to you when you were surrounded by the best agents you could ever meet.

It happened not too long ago when you were invited to join the BAU, thanks to a recommendation from the Criminal Investigation Division.

Grabbing a tissue from the dispenser by the sink, you wiped your hands and face, throwing the used tissue in the slot made for waste disposal right below the sink. A sigh sounded out of you, with one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straightened your clothes and walked out of the loo. 'How are you doing?' Spencer asked you as you sat in the seat before him, his right hand holding an open book, which you presume is written in Russian. 'Yeah, I just had a bad dream, nothing big.' You once again dismiss him.

It wasn't exactly an alarming thing to have a bad dream. On the contrary, you were accustomed to having nightmares and bad dreams but this one was different, recurring in all its forms. The sounds, the sights, were familiar but all the more terrifying, there wasn't a feeling so twisted as this one. 'I don't think it was just a bad dream, your breathing rate increased from the normal 12 to 18 breathes per minute to 25 to 30 in the three minutes after you woke up and you were sweating profusely. Are you sure you're okay?' He breathed out, his eyes already reading your every movement, catching how you twitched when he caught that you were not telling him the truth. 'Reid...thank you for worrying but I—'

'Alright, crime fighters, how's everyone doing, all tucked in?' Saved by the bell as it goes, Penelope popped up on the jet's screen, 'Yeah, can't wait to get some sleep.' JJ groaned.

'Uh about that, I'm really sorry for putting this on you guys, I know you guys are tired and I hate doing this right after a case and- I have some bad news.'

'What is it, Garcia?' Emily asked

'Okay so you have another case, it's a missing child case in Bakersfield, a 6 year old boy named Stephen Turner, last seen in his, oh this is so sad, in his room. A report was sent 12 minutes ago.' The name made you freeze, you could hear your heart beat quickening, the way it felt like it could run for miles was a pain you were sure you put behind. 'Garcia is that Steven or Stephen?'

'Oh I'm pretty sure it's Stephen, my love.'

'Okay, thanks...' it wasn't relief that washed over you, but the name carried a heavy weight.

'Bakersfield, California, Right?' Luke clarified. 'Yes newbie, I'll have the files sent to you immediately on your tablets and the rest should be at the local Police department there, Good luck guys!' Garcia signed off immediately after.

'Okay, we know the drill, we only have 24 hours or we'll be looking for a body. I'll inform the pilot to change course. When we land, JJ and Rossi go to the Turner house and speak with the parents. Reid go with them, we need to know how he was taken from his room. Luke and Tara, I want you to scout the neighborhood, maybe someone saw something.' She turned to face you, 'Cyrus, you'll be with me, we'll speak with the Chief there.' Emily gave everyone their designated tasks.

Everyone exchanged nods with their partners. You exchanged a glance with Emily, standing up from your seat, you chose to stand all the while till it was necessary to be seated when the jet landed.

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

'Chief Marks, this is SSA Cyrus, I'm Unit Chief Prentiss, What have we got so far on Stephen Turner?' She quickly shook hands with the PD Chief, You took it as a chance to observe the department, a missing child case gave you little time for formalities. 'So far, zilch, I have some of my officers posted around the neighbourhood, even questioned across the street, said they saw nothing.'

'My Agents are already there, let's hope they turn up with something new.' Emily informed the chief and led you both to an empty conference room, informing you that this was the only available room at such short notice. 'Chief Marks, would you mind bringing in prior missing child case reports, preferably going back 20 years.' You asked before he got the chance to leave, there was still one nagging question that you had to rule out.

Could your mother be involved? Or was it your paranoia getting the best of you? but a job was a job, if an MO matched with an old case, narrowing down suspects was a huge load off.

'Anything you need.' He answered in the affirmative after a pause.

'Something in mind?' Emily asked you.

'This is my hometown, I've read my fair share of missing child cases but if there's a chance one of them bares any similarities, we might be able to narrow down our search.' You explained, opening boxes of the gathered information on Stephen.

'Yes, I'm sorry I forgot, after the case maybe you can go see your folks?' The thought was so lighthearted but you had gulped in guilt at the words, 'No, we need to go back to the Academy...my folks and I aren't in good terms.'

'Oh, let me know if there's anything I can do?' She asked softly, which you smiled to in response, 'Of course.'

Emily was always a friend before a Unit Chief when she caught on to indications of a slight change in behaviour, it made it a whole lot easier to speak to her about things you wouldn't bother about with your old Unit Chief.

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

'What have you got so far?'

'Nothing solid, of the two stacks of cases brought in, 2/3ds hardly match the MO and, the remaining few, let's say it didn't end well for the kids.' You gritted your teeth at the last sentence.

JJ, Rossi and Spencer walked in right at that moment, 'What did you find?' Emily asked the three.

'There wasn't a sign of struggle in the room, it's likely the UnSub and Stephen knew each other or he could have been drugged, there was no sign of a break-in either but the spare key that was left under one of the plants was missing, UnSub definitely planned the kidnapping and was aware of the layout of the house.' Reid informed.

'Mom and Dad are worked up, said they didn't hear anything from the kids room upstairs, hasn't gotten into any fights at school or kids around the area or within the family.' Rossi states.

'Yeah, Joy, Stephen's mom, said he was well liked, got good grades, knew not to trust strangers,' JJ took a deep breath, 'He's a healthy 6 year old boy and apart from not being athletic, he's just one normal kid in a family of 4.'

'Wait, 4?' You stopped JJ.

'Yeah...he has an older—'

'Sister? Say 11 or 12?' You completed, the fear inside you built. 'Yes, 12, how, how did you know?'

That same empty feeling drained out of you, fear blanketed whatever memory you recalled from this place. 'Good guess, I think, is the family here I, uh, I want to speak with them, maybe the sister even.'

'I can ask them to come in but why?'

'I think she might know something or maybe even the UnSub.' You breathed, 'I'm gonna go out for some air, Emily?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Thanks.' You nod slowly and walk out of the conference room and out of the PD. You leaned back on the wall, sunlight barely visible due to it now being autumn, orange-tinted leaves lightly grazed the pavements. Passersby walking hand in hand or holding on to a warm drink. It's a pleasant scene for the beginning of the most painful nightmares.

'...Steven.'

'You said his name again.'

'Ah! Jeez, Reid! You scared the crap out of me, don't do that again!' Stepping back you raised your hands ahead of you in defense.

'Sorry, I brought you coffee.' He offered.

'Thank you, what are you doing? Out here, I mean.'

'I know it's a little bit of an unspoken rule that we don't profile on the team but-'

'But, you profiled me,' you sighed, this was expected, you knew he was only worried about you but it never occurred to you that he'd come looking for you. Being in the BAU for more than a year doesn't make you chummy with each other, especially with Dr. Spencer Reid, or so you've heard.

He was cautious around you, he was not afraid, just that he could tell you preferred solitude compared to the average population. But he never took the chance that when you displayed more emotion than you would otherwise, to walk away. Always asking if you were alright, leaving you small treats at your desk knowing that it helps you. You kept to yourself and he respected that, in turn, so did you. Not many catch on to your subtle way of pulling back from too much physical contact, or the way you'd always make the person before you speak, knowing they had no chance of asking you about the details of the life you lived.

In a way, admiring his skills as a profiler was easy to come by. More so his little actions that left you thinking that he was one of the few people you'd consider opening up to. So listening to his observations was, if not intriguing, worth betting on.

'Okay, tell me what you got.' You let him have at it.

'Well, I would go into statistics but I'll keep it short. You have been on edge from the moment Garcia mentioned your hometown and judging by the way you keep mentioning this person's name, who I'll assume is someone you know from here and bad...things happened, causing you to have nightmares now more frequently maybe due to an anniversary.' He laid out like you were an open book. Who were you kidding? Where would he be if he wasn't good at his job?

Your brows knitted and you let out a painful chuckle but you knew that wasn't all he figured out. 'What else?'

'You had also correctly estimated Stephen's sister's age simply based on the fact that they are a family of 4, which tells me that this isn't the first this has happened here, in fact the very first time it did, it was very close to you or maybe you were involved.' He finished the last of his deduction and looked at you, searching for a mistake in his findings, it concerned you after all.

'You got me, ha. That name, Steven, he um, he was—' you tried completing your sentence, your lips began shaking and you looked away from Spencer because other people seeing you cry was never on your bucket list. 'Steven was my little brother.' You bit the words but it spilled out in all it's shapeless glory.

'Was?' Spencer questioned.

'He went missing, 20 years ago...he was 6, just like Stephen and I was...11, just like that little girl.' It took everything in you, every bone and muscle to let out what you couldn't for 20 years. 'Do you know what happened to him?' Spencer quietly asked. 'All I know was that my mother had brought him out to play and he never came back, whenever I asked all she would do was look at me like maybe I should've been the one that was gone.'

'Does anyone know? Someone had to be searching for him—'

'Reid, no one knew my brother, they...forgot him, or chose to. I couldn't ask what had happened or go to the police station because my mother, she would tell me he was okay.' The warm streaks of salty tears had left your eyes, you wanted them to stop, it was shame and regret that filled your mind. 'Four days from now would be his anniversary of the day he disappeared.' Wiping your cheek and turning to face Spencer, you caught a glimpse of a man that looked like he knew.

Knew how much you were hurting, how that showing this side of yourself was only making it worse.

'I—'

'I'm sorry to interrupt but the Turner family is here.' An officer from the department had called you in. 'Yes, I'll be right there...Reid, thank you for the coffee and for uh, listening, I'll fill you in on the rest if you want.'

He subtly nodded and you both ushered inside.

You spotted the family and exchanged a quick greeting, expressing your apologies and understanding of the situation you began asking questions and later focused on asking the little girl, who was shaken up but put on a brave front to stay strong. Braver than the parents, you note.

'Hi, Tina, right? How are you feeling?' you bent down to meet her eye level. 'I'm fine, it's Stephen I'm worried about and you should be too.' She strongly expressed. Her concern for her brother was what made you smile inwardly, 'We are, Tina but we're going to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?' Quickly gaining the quiet approval of the parents you proceeded.

'Are you and Stephen close?'

'Yeah, he's very clumsy so I have to look out for him a lot, and because he's so short, I don't like people thinking they can pick on him.' She answered true. 'That's very good Tina, you're a wonderful sister, tell me, lately has there been anyone you know who's been close to Stephen besides you or your parents?'

'No not really, he's got two friends but they both moved away...oh!' The girl had a moment of realisation. 'There's this lady that visits our house sometimes. My mom and dad usually say hi to her, and she keeps asking me if Stephen's been studying well.' She completed.

'That's Rosa, she's the head of the neighbourhood watch, she was with me even when I was in labour at the hospital here, suggested the name too, you don't think?' The mother's face contorted a little as her mind raced.

How could you forget your mother's name, she flaunted it for as long as you stayed with her. Rosa Cyrus, a symbol of hope so domineering, it paralysis any that gets too close to its core, that's who she was, or who she saw herself as.

'We can't say for sure ma'am, but you should stay here. Thank you, Tina, what you said was very helpful. We'll find your brother, I promise.' You stuck your hand out and she grabbed it quickly, giving you a wobbly handshake her little hands could gather. 'Uhm, Ms. FBI Agent ma'am, I really want to see my brother again, please.'

You sucked in whatever painful thought you gathered and gave the family a smile.

'Thank you, please find him.' The father could barely put up a brave front, his face already riddled with tear stains. 'We will.'

'Good job.' Rossi was outside the door, he gently patted your shoulder. 'Hmm, we need to find him.'

'And we will, after all, with a team like ours and not to mention boy genius, we'll find the kid.' Rossi's words brought comfort.

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

You immediately called Garcia once you entered the conference room where everyone was gathered, 'Find the location of Rosa Cyrus, any properties in her name and any known associates, She might have moved to this neighbourhood 10 years ago, also I need you to trace her past phone calls and bank transactions.' You felt your patience running thin, you knew this woman from the moment her name-dropped, she was your mother after all. Now all you wished for was that you got rid of all traces of her, including her last name.

'Um Hi?'

'Garcia, now.'

It wasn't your intention to be demanding, or sound angry, emotions getting in the way of work has rough consequences. 'O-okay, I'll be back as soon as possible.' You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your forehead. 'Who is she?' Tara asked you, and you paused and looked at her, it was then that you caught on that everyone in the room had a torn look of concern directed at you.

'My mother.' You took your chance and here spills the truth.

'Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?' Emily asked, she wasn't asking as a friend but as your chief. 'Tina said that Rosa Cyrus had been visiting their house every now and then, checking in on Stephen, claiming that she was only doing her duty as the head of the neighbourhood watch. The mother said she was even present when he was born, and gave him his name too.'

'But why—'

'Okay guys, this is very suspicious,' Garcia checked back in right on time.

'Rosa Cyrus, born and raised in Bakersfield, once married to a construction worker named Daniel Carter. Later she gave birth to one, oh uhm, little girl-' you shut your eyes at the mention of your name, '-and she went into labour once again... the only thing specified about the baby was the gender, it was a baby boy, no records after that, hospital records don't mention a name, date of birth is listed but it looks like at the time they didn't stay in long to mention details. It was like this boy didn't exist.' Garcia sympathetically continued on, you knew she would want to be there for you right now, 'She got a divorce 6 years after her son was born but from her contact history, it looks like Daniel and her never lost touch.'

'That sorry bitch.' You whispered, more so as an undertone, it was loud enough that Luke and Spencer looked up at you.

'Okay this is where things get weirder, she started frequenting the Turner house since the birth of Stephen. A camera feed shows that she was on the way to the Turner's house the day before he went missing.' She finished up.

'Yeah, I asked the neighbours across the street if they saw anything but they hadn't, they did hear a car leave the scene at roughly the same time Reid narrowed down the time he was taken.' Luke filled in. 'Roughly between 11:30 pm to 2 am, which was around the time Joy went to check in on Stephen. Based on the time they heard the car fleeing, he was missing at around 12:35 pm.' Emily gave a quick nod at Spencer's deduction.

'Thank you Garcia, any known whereabouts on Daniel?'

'Searching now and there, the last known location was the police—He was right there. Okay uhh, sending you his address and Rosa's current address, please catch these a-holes!'

'Oh that's a done deal. Garcia?'

'Yeah?'

'My little brother's name was Steven, please, don't forget.' That was a plea. A plea that she understood right away, one that also was directed to everyone in that very room.

The two of you might be at a distance but you could tell she smiled on the other end, 'I won't, sugar.'

With Garcia hanging up, now things have increased in pace, you have a name and a face to give to your unsub all that's left now is to find them and the boy.

'Tara, I need you to tell the chief to pull up an APB on Rosa and Daniel.' Emily handed out orders, and Tara was just as quick to respond, 'Luke and JJ, head over to Daniel's address, If he's there, bring him in and be careful, he is likely on alert since he visited the station. Rossi, Reid and I will be on our way to Rosa's, Cyrus—'

'I know, I'll stay here, I'm too close to the case now.'

'Yes but also, if Luke and JJ get back here with Daniel, he'll demand to see you, There's a chance he knows you're here and that might convince him to assume you would be on his side if he asks for you, you'll only meet him with Tara or Reid in the room with you, can you do that? I need you as level-headed as possible.' She looked you straight in the eyes, which caused you to pause for a good minute to assess all possibilities.

Would you be okay seeing someone you haven't in 20 years? Someone who pretty much played a part in your brother's disappearance?

You took that one minute to take a breath, record all scenarios and with a tight chest you gave Emily your response, 'Yes, if it will get him to talk, I'll play my cards like I always do.'

'Good, let's get moving then.'

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching your team leave the PD, getting armed and ready as they darted out but you didn't notice one more lingering figure. He was quiet but he didn't startle you again this time.

Spencer gave a single pat on the shoulder, but before he could leave the interaction, you placed a hand over his and held on to him. Though the touch startled him, from his gatherings, he noticed that you didn't look at him, you hung your head low but latched on to his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel comfort. Your bad dream suddenly seems to stray from your head and bend the strings of reality, nestling in unrest you didn't want to feel again.

You let out a quiet sniffle, with a daft smile you let go of the hand that brought you safety. 'Go.'

Moreover, he did. The fading figure of your colleague and now close friend, caused you to huddle into yourself.

You're going to be okay. A silent notion of sanity.

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

'Hey, got you something to eat.' Tara walked into the room and sat next to you, she carefully placed a package of Choux Pastry before you. Eyes darted to indicate a grateful gesture was about to be appreciated. Tara required no words for the way you'd carefully taken out the plate, digging in right away to know that this was the little thing that might keep you going, thank yous fell out of your mouth after a good bite. 'Take your time and eat it though, can't have a good agent choking on a choux pastry on a Tuesday.' She chided.

'So no dying on Tuesdays, duly noted doc.' A light breathy laugh left you. It was the small things, nobody asked or pleaded for an offer of gold to feel better about themselves, if anyone knew that, it was everyone at the BAU. 'We're all here if you need us, okay?' Her voice said it all, that was enough. 'I know, it's why I'm still here.'

Silence had fallen in the room, it wasn't heavy, not at all, but that didn't make Tara's fumbling with case files any quieter. 'You can ask me, you know?' You broke the silence, and the rustling of papers stopped.

'What?'

'I know you want to ask me something so go ahead, don't believe I have anything to hide...at this point anyway.'

She sighed and rose from her chair, 'I just, okay, she waited exactly 6 years to take Stephen, she named him, tried to intervene and raise him like he was her own. She named him after her—your brother, who no one knew existed. Clearly she's reliving an event. So, why Steven? What happened to him?' she began, 'She couldn't have simply waited for another child to be born in the right circumstances, there has to be another boy, that no one knows about who's missing, or maybe a person, an adult who would match Steven's description? This woman needs a trigger to have to wait to do something like this.'

'So you're saying, there's a chance Grace is a...serial killer?'

'She would know how to take care of the bodies, a place or method she knows well enough so that nothing odd would ever turn up.' Tara walked over to the pile of missing persons reports, looking through them with brows crossed. 'Wait, I think there was one case, a 16-year-old boy. He looked exactly how I'd imagine Steven to, check case number 000612-M5-034.' You got up from the chair, standing right by Tara with arms crossed. 'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.'

Part 2

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