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bookshelf-dust · 2 months

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Hii love!! I absolutely LOVE your works and was wondering if you could write a fic where Billy finds the readers s/h scars and asks about it? The reader kinda opens about why they did and Billy is super confused about why you would purposely hurt yourself, but he swears to himself he’d never let you do that again?? If not, that’s perfectly fine, i know this topic is pretty sensitive to people🤍🤍

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,513

warnings: SH trigger warning!! please heed that. mentions of self harm (specifically cutting), scars described, areas on skin. all scars are healed and reader has recovered. please do not read this if this will make you uncomfortable. this is meant to be comforting and let you know that things do get better. it is about acceptance and change.

a/n: anon!! thank you for this idea. i just want to put it out there that i’m not taking requests for the foreseeable future, and haven’t been for quite awhile, but i got sent this and i felt really compelled to write it because it’s something that’s important to me. i felt like i could do it justice, at least a little bit, and i really hope that it will provide you with some comfort. this is something close to my heart, and my goal here is that it will reach someone the right way and encourage them to keep going. i love you all so much!! please go easy on me as i’ve never written anything like this before. also did a bit of a different format! anyway, mwah! 🥰

————

Billy knows you’re shy. Of course he does.

But he wants you to feel as comfortable with him as he does with you. He’s never felt as relaxed and safe as he does when he’s around you. Hell, he’s never allowed himself to let his guard down in this way.

Inviting you to sleep over was his olive branch, hoping you’d have a space where you could be fully you. He has the house to himself, and he knows that will help ease your anxiety. All Billy wants is to give you all that you’ve given him. And maybe more.

Billy had just stripped, pulling on sweats and an old t-shirt, not caring whether you saw him in his underwear. He’s yours anyway. Sure, you haven’t gone very far in your relationship, but he still wants you to see how comfortable you’ve made him. He’s never done this casual intimacy thing before.

“I’ll be just a second, okay?” You give him a gentle smile, feet softly padding against the worn hardwoods, sleeve brushing the door frame as you walk by.

Billy watches you walk out of his room with your pajamas tucked under your elbow. “Okay, baby.”

He busies himself while you’re gone, straightening the bed, finding the tv remote. (He’d never be allowed to roll it into his room if he weren’t home alone.) He figures you’re taking your makeup off too, maybe doing something with your hair, and heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you both to share.

In the bathroom, you take a deep breath as you pull on your nightgown. You don’t pride yourself in having nice or fancy things to sleep in, but you felt like bringing this with you because it’s one of the few things you own that makes you feel pretty. Something about a freshly washed face and the soft fabric make you all…content.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The gown is not tight by any means, and actually a color that brings out your eyes. It has little bows on the sleeves and a tiny strip of lace at the hem. You don’t tend to dress for anyone but yourself, but you do think Billy will like this. Some part of you craves that feeling.

He’s never even seen your legs before, much less your collarbones. And not because you’re trying to be modest, but because it’s been cold and any other opportunity hasn’t presented itself. Showing someone so much of yourself is harder than you anticipated. And you anticipated quite a bit of work.

You inhale and exhale deeply, shaking out your arms. You can’t help but be nervous. You’ve never slept over with a boy before. But it’s Billy. Your Billy. What is there to be worried about?

Billy returns to his bedroom shortly after you’ve sat down and queued up the movie for you both to watch. You take the popcorn he offers you, the socks that are much too big, and snuggle into the worn pillows propped up against his headboard.

You’re sitting too far away for Billy’s liking, munching on your snack and trying to focus on the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street as if you haven’t seen it over ten times. His eyes can’t stop dragging over your bare legs. This is the first time he’s seen them, and he wants you and all that skin closer.

“Baby,” he drawls.

You can feel his big blue eyes on you, but for once you really are paying attention. “Yeah?” you hum, licking butter from the tip of your thumb.

You don’t even look over at him, and Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. The noise prompts you to spare a glance in his direction, but he’s already got an arm wrapped around your thigh, yanking you across the sheets until you’re pressed against his side.

He tries not to convey how excited he is that he can feel the warmth of your skin on his, how soft your inner thigh feels. He frees you though, laughing at the “Oomph” you let out before settling yourself more comfortably.

You swing your leg over both of Billy’s, handing him your popcorn remains and resting your head on his shoulder. He happily sticks his hand in your little bowl, eating what you’d left behind.

As the movie progresses and Billy finishes all the popcorn, you shift further and further into him. It makes Billy so happy to see you act so comfortable around him. This is everything he was hoping for. He sets your empty bowls on his side table and wipes his hands clean with the wet rag he’d brought with him.

You’re engrossed in the movie, laughing every now and then at something you shouldn’t find funny, or clutching at Billy’s fingers when you get stressed out during a tense moment.

God, he’s so happy to be with you. If he could make this night last forever, he would. Billy kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. You don’t think much of the gesture, only feeling a shiver run down your spine at the contact. At his warm hand on your skin.

Your skin.

Your nightgown has ridden up a bit, and suddenly you register exactly where Billy’s hand is. You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t rub your thigh and feel what you’ve avoided showing him for so long.

You try not to worry, try to keep your focus on the movie, but you can’t. Your bubble has popped. You want to adjust your nightgown, but you’re afraid to draw more attention to the area, afraid to offend him and make him think you don’t want his touch.

Billy’s thumb starts to stroke back and forth on your skin. You can feel the exact moment he registers that it doesn’t feel the way it should. The way your arms do, the way the soft backs of your hands do when he takes them in his.

You feel him sit up slightly, crane his head to look at you. At your thigh.

Upon touching your leg, Billy had expected smooth skin. But he met ridges. Bumps. Lines of raised skin. He knew that wasn’t normal, and it sent a surge of curiosity or maybe even concern through him.

What he sees confuses him. What happened to your leg?

“Baby? What’s that?”

He’s sitting up fully now, prompting you to do the same before you fall against the bed.

The longer he looks at it, the more confused he gets. There are scars on your leg. They’re not big, but there are a lot of them. So many that it’s scaring him. Some thin, some thicker. Different shades of scar tissue and scratched skin that never returned to its original state.

They aren’t fresh, no, not at all. They are all healed. But he’s so confused because he’s gotten lots of cuts and bruises throughout his life, and they’ve never looked like yours do. They don’t look like a normal injury does. These look…deliberate. And he doesn’t understand.

You turn around and sit on your knees. I guess it’s now or never, you think. If you don’t tell yourself that, you’ll probably throw up. And if you hadn’t moved so far past this, you’d feel even worse.

“They’re scars,” you say, rubbing your elbow.

Billy flicks your knee, mainly because he doesn’t know how to react, his other hand rubbing down his face. “No shit.”

Your heart is pounding despite the fact that this is something you have long overcome and are not ashamed of. Even still, there is a part of you that hopes he won’t be disgusted with you. It’s the same part that hasn’t let the relationship go as far as you’d like it to.

“I put them there.”

Billy blinks. Even if some part of him knew that’s where this was headed, he still can’t wrap his head around that. “What?”

His eyes dart to your leg again, wondering if the scars are more extensive than what he can see. He’s scared of how badly you’ve hurt yourself. If he’s not careful, his eyes will glaze over.

“A few years ago. You know how I’ve mentioned my depression and anxiety? And how I have medicine? How it was hard for me to go on dates with you at first or how sometimes I get standoffish?”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well, you’ve been really good at reassuring me and understanding my panic attacks and stuff, and I’ve gotten a lot better at managing these things. But before all of that, before how I am now, I had no one. I was all alone, and I couldn’t deal with my feelings. So I took it out on myself. I started cutting myself as a way to cope.” You hate to admit all of this, but he deserves to know.

You start fidgeting with your fingertips and break eye contact with him. Billy’s lips have formed a stern pout, his brows knitting together in a way that shows he’s trying to understand you. To him, he really is just trying to comprehend this. But to you, that’s the look of shame you’ve been awaiting. You don’t want to be looked at that way.

You sit on your hands and stare at a string that’s come loose from your worn-in comforter.

“Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to help me. I couldn’t talk about how sad and lonely and angry I was, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a doctor. I kept it all in, figuring it was safer that way. But that got to me, and I chose to take it out on myself. There.” You touch your thigh. “Here and here.” Your fingers brush your stomach and hip. “Here too.” Your forearm. I know it’s horrible, but that’s what I chose to do. And I wouldn’t ever want someone else to choose that.”

“I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the hurt to stop. I needed an outlet for all of those suffocating feelings, and that was what I did. Hurting myself helped me feel better because at least I was expressing something. And I was able to punish myself for being so unlike everyone else. So quiet, so hard to love, so different.”

Your heart is pounding but you steal a quick glance at Billy. He can’t fight the emotion from showing on his face anymore. He feels his eyelashes getting thick with tears that are threatening to spill at any moment.

“I know this is probably hard to understand. I know you might be disgusted with me. But I guess it’s better that you know, right? I should’ve been more open about it with you sooner to avoid it being so…complicated.”

You stop, not really knowing what else there is to say. You’re hoping that this will encourage him to say something. Anything. You’d be happy to answer a question at this point.

Billy brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe his eyes. You wince, feeling awful for making him emotional over this.

He takes a moment to try and wrap his head around what he’s just heard. He’s had a habit of self-medicating with alcohol, with cigarettes, hell, even ego lifting shit he shouldn’t at the gym. But everyone copes differently, right? You wouldn’t do what he does. He wouldn’t do what his dad does.

He just can’t bear the thought of thinking that someone would physically do that to themselves. That you, his perfect girl, would be feeling so low that you’d make yourself bleed just in search of relief from the pain. He can’t understand it, but at the same time, he sees that it comes in different forms.

Billy reaches out for your hands, waiting for you to take them. The pressure behind your eyes immediately softens at the gesture.

“Don’t apologize to me, okay? I’m just trying to process.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your warm skin.

“Okay.”

He kisses each of your knuckles in turn, maintaining eye contact all the while. He straightens, not letting go of your fingers. “I don’t like to think about you being in any sort of pain. Imagining you doing that to yourself…fuckin’ breaks my heart.”

You tilt your head, scanning his face. He’s hurting for you, and you want to take it away. “It’s okay, Billy. I’m so much better now.”

“But I wish that I’d known you when you were hurting so damn bad. Y-you were alone, and I’m angry that no one was there to pull you out. I would’ve helped you.”

You squeeze his hands. “Billy, baby. I wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“Because I didn’t want to get better. I was comfortable in an endless cycle of hurt, and I had to be the one to finally change something.”

Billy leans forward until his forehead is resting against your chest. “I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, and I know you sure as hell don’t want my pity, but I just can’t have you ever be in pain.”

You weave your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “I know, Billy. I’m okay, I promise? I’ve worked really hard to be okay.”

He straightens, cupping your face. “God, I know you have. I’m never gonna let you hurt like that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Billy. That’s not a place I ever want to return to.”

He leans in and kisses you with so much passion, using his lips to say more than he could ever form into words, that it leaves you feeling dazed. Loved.

“I’m so proud of you,” Billy says.

You smile at him, and if he weren’t already sitting, he’d need to because of how weak you make him.

“Thank you for respecting me and not treating me differently. You have no idea how much that means.”

Billy’s hands slide down to rest on your collar bones. “Why on earth would I treat you differently? Have people before? If anything it shows me how much of a fucking star you are, because you got through that all on your own. You got through it and now I have the pleasure of being yours.”

You feel like someone’s poured warm water down your back. “People are usually awful about it, yeah. But that doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you’re so accepting. And I want to be more open with you.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, baby. I’m working on my patience, so I’m happy to wait and learn every inch of you. Inside and out.” He winks at you, hoping to coax out a smile. It works.

“I’m so glad I got to this point,” you admit to him. You never say that out loud.

“Fuck, so am I.” He kisses your forehead. “My best girl.”

#tw: self harm #tw: scars #trigger warning: self harm #savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction

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all-the-things-2020 · 5 months

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Late Night Talking

A Dieter Bravo x OFC fic

Notes: Title comes from the Harry Styles song. I heard it on the radio one day and the line “Now you’re in my life, I can’t get you off my mind” just screamed Dieter to me.

My Dieter is (mostly) sober and trying to put his life and career back together after hitting the bottom during the filming of Cliff Beasts 6. He is still a menace but he’s working on it. There will be comedy, angst, fluff and possibly some smut (not sure how explicit my narrator will get).

Narrator is an original female character loosely based on myself. She is around Dieter’s age, not thin, and introverted. He turns her life upside down and she’s not quite prepared for it.

Tagging @rhoorl because her Dieter in “Working Title” inspired me to start this fic!

Chapter One below the cut

I met him in a bookshop, of all places. Not exactly the environment you’d expect, but sometimes fate works in mysterious ways. Bookshops are one of the few places I frequented where it’s even remotely possible to meet a man. I’ve never liked bars or clubs; too noisy, too many creeps trying to be charming and getting too hands. As an introvert, I prefer quieter surroundings, like bookshops, museums, and botanical gardens. Not exactly hot spots for single guys, but I wasn’t trying to meet anyone. I was always open to whatever might happen, though.

I was in The Last Bookstore in downtown L.A. It was the first day of my summer break and I’d challenged myself to get out of my box a little and do things I’d never done before. I’d taken the train into the city, which I’d never done by myself. Of course, once I got into L.A., I ended up in my preferred habitat, surrounded by books.

I had spotted a book on my to-be-read list on the top shelf. Being petite (the polite way of saying I was short), I couldn’t quite reach it. I was debating whether the shelves were structurally sound enough for me to try standing on the bottom shelf to reach it when I heard a low, warm voice behind me say, “Let me.”

An arm reached up, easily plucking the book off the shelf and handing it to me. “Good choice,” the voice said. “That’s one of my favorites.”

I knew that voice. Turning to see the man who stood next to me, my suspicions were confirmed. It was Dieter Bravo. He was wearing a baggy gray t-shirt, a well-worn pair of jeans and some god-awful Crocs that had seen better days. His hair looked like he’d forgotten to comb it that morning and his scruffy beard and mustache could use a trim. But he was wearing glasses and his deep brown eyes were looking directly into mine, so that was all I saw.

“Thanks,” I managed to say, hoping I wasn’t blushing or anything ridiculous like that.

“No worries,” he said with a smile. He indicated the small stack of books in my hands with his chin. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” I said. Real smooth, doofus, I told myself. I tried to start over. “I read a ton of YA for work, so I’m trying to read more ‘grown-up’ stuff during the summer.”

He leaned against the bookshelf, his broad shoulders blocking the aisle. “YA?,” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Young Adult,” I explained. “I work in a high school library. A lot of it is really good, but after nine or ten months of dystopian love triangles and hot werewolves and teenagers with weird diseases falling in love, I find myself craving something more substantial.”

He smiled again. “I can imagine,” he said. “So, a librarian, huh? Oh, I’m Dieter, by the way.” He held out his hand and I shook it. It was huge and warm and made my knees melt.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I stammered. “I recognized you. I’m, ha, a big fan of your work.” I felt like a complete idiot as I stumbled over my words. “I’m Emily.”

“Well, Emily, this might be a dumb question, considering your line of work, but do you come here often?” He chuckled as he seemed to realize how cliched his questions was.

“Actually, this is my first time here,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to visit this shop, I never got around to it. I live out in the boondocks, so I don’t get into L.A. very often.”

“It’s great,” he said. “I don’t get here very often, though. Always too busy, it seems.”

We chatted for a bit, about the books we were buying, and favorites we’d both read (and made a few recommendations to each other when we mentioned titles the other hadn’t read). Then the conversation turned back to bookshops.

“I usually end up at Barnes & Noble,” I admitted. “There’s a good indie bookseller in Riverside, but it’s kind of small. My absolute favorite bookshop is Vroman’s in Pasadena. I don’t get there as often as I’d like, though.”

“Vroman’s,” he said, wrinkling his forehead. “I think I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been there.”

“Oh, you should go!” I said. I loved talking about my favorite bookshop and started rattling on. “They have all kinds of great stuff besides books. Plus a wine bar.”

“Whoa, books and booze? Sign me up.” He smiled that radiant smile I’d seen in a million photos, the one that always made me feel funny inside.

“Then you should definitely go.”

“Is that an invitation?”

I was stunned, but managed to speak without stumbling too much over the words. “Sure, why not?” Holy crap, he’s flirting with me!

Dieter pulled out his phone. “Let’s see,” he said, scrolling through the phone. “Um, I’m free Friday evening. I have a meeting at two, but I should be out of there by four at the latest. It’s in Burbank, I can probably make it to Pasadena by five, if that works for you?”

My tongue felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size. Was he actually asking me out? Or had I accidentally asked him? “Um, yeah,” I stammered. “Friday’s good, yeah.”

“Okay, then.” He tapped away at his phone and then slipped it back into his pocket. “It’s a date. Friday, five o’clock, Vroman’s.” He winked and now I knew I was blushing like a fool. He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have a meeting with my agent in an hour, so I’d better go pay for these and get going.” He pulled his phone back out and opened up the Contacts app. “Here,” he said, handing the phone to me. “Put in your number.”

I did and handed the phone back to him. He put it back in his pocket (oh, how I tried not to look too closely at that pocket, afraid he’d think I was checking out his crotch), then held out his hand again, wiggling his fingers. “Your phone?”

“Oh, yeah.” I pulled my own phone out of my purse and handed it to him. He opened my Contacts app and typed in his name and number. As he handed it back to me, our fingers brushed against each other and he smiled.

“See you Friday.” He turned and walked away, heading for the cash registers on the ground floor. I stood in the aisle for several minutes, staring at my phone. I had a date with Dieter fucking Bravo, and he’d given me his phone number.

I waited until he’d left the store, then went to the register myself. “Hey, you just missed Dieter Bravo,” the clerk said. “I got his autograph.”

I got his phone number, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. The kid behind the counter was thrilled to have had an encounter with a celebrity; he didn’t need me rubbing his nose in my good fortune. That didn’t keep me from texting my best friend Sam once I was back on the train headed for the IE. We’d been friends in elementary school before her family moved back East the summer before junior high. We’d kept in touch over the years, first by letters and now by text and Facebook.

Sam replied with a string of emojis and punctuation marks. <Don’t fuck with me, Em. It’s not funny>

I clicked over to my Contacts and stared at the screen. The name “DB❤️” stared back at me. It was real.

I sketched out the encounter for her.

<You’re living in a rom com, I swear. But be careful. Heard he’s a bit of a wild child. Make him wear a condom. You don’t know where he’s been>

It was joke between us that Sam had grown up to love wearing stiletto heels and clubbing while I preferred flats and quiet evenings. We always said it was a good thing we lived so far apart or we’d never have remained friends. And yet Sam was the one who was married with three kids and a job in finance, while I was still unattached and basically living paycheck to paycheck.

<I’ll tell you all about the date, I promise. Luv u>

I put away my phone and stared out the window, watching the backyards and alleys of Southern California flash by. What a world, where I woke up in my tiny condo thinking the highlight of my day would be a new book and lunch at Olvera Strett, and now I had a date with a famous actor. Only in L.A. I mused. It really is La La Land.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble fanfiction

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

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I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below

Prompt: Microwave Dinner

Billy doesn’t even hear Max until the microwave dings.

“You’re going to burn it,” she grumbles, as she waits for him to pull the crappy microwave dinner out. Billy bites back a curse as the steam singes his fingers.

“It might improve it,” Billy mutters, because the charcoal might actually add some flavor to the mounds of dry potato, carrots and turkey. That was all Neil and Susan had left behind in the fridge for them and Billy wasn’t about to waste his limited funds on grocery shopping.

He waits for it to cool before he tugs off the film and hands it to her. She doesn’t wait for him before she bolts back into the living room and whatever show she’s chosen.

Of course not.

He shoves in the second tinfoil tray in the microwave and puts in the allotted time. While it spins slowly on the plate he leans against the kitchen counter, ignoring the faint sounds of Max turning the TV volume up too high. It would be fine if her choice of entertainment weren’t such trash.

He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting but it wasn’t this.

The microwave dings again and he yanks open the door, tugging the tray out onto the counter and staring at the bland dinner that is apparently all his eighteenth birthday is worth.

He hadn’t expected a lot. But Neil and his stepmother vanished out of the door, leaving him with a microwave dinner and babysitting duties wasn’t it.

Even Max has barely acknowledged the date, instead piling into the Camaro after school, flushed and ten minutes late after the bell. There was a vaguely shifty expression on her face when he’d asked why she wasn’t on time, a defensiveness in the way she’d hauled her skateboard onto her lap. Billy figured she’d just been caught up with that boy and let it go.

At least someone has friends who care.

He grabs a fork and follows Max into the living room. She’s curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her. Her red hair is twisted into two thick plaits and that alone probably says something about how much she’s grown. When she was little, she never used to bother, keeping her long red hair loose around her face. But these days, she wears cute t-shirts, twists her hair into little knots, keeps a lip gloss on her bedside table.

“Slow down,” he mutters, carefully juggling the hot tray while he peels off the film. Max barely blinks as she shoves dry mashed potato into her mouth.

“It’s fine,” Max says, licking her lip.

“Fine, choke, see if I care,” Billy says flatly and Max smirks.

“You wish,” she retorts. She chews furiously on her last carrot and stands up, empty tray in her hands. “Can I go? I’ve got homework. Here, you can have this.” She doesn’t even wait for an answer, instead chucking the remote control down next to Billy. Billy feels oddly empty as she vanishes, leaving him alone with the jarring sounds of the TV and his rapidly cooling dinner.

He tries not to care. No one’s really given a shit about his birthday since his mom left. Neil certainly didn’t. For a few years after Max and Susan turned up, there was at least cake and a few wrapped presents. Usually shit that Neil thought was an appropriate gift, rather than Billy actually wanted but at least the day was acknowledged. There was a card waiting by his plate at breakfast this morning and that was it. No tapes, no basketball, no socks, or any of the usual shit he gets stuck with.

It would have been fine, except he’s not heard from…he’s not heard anything all day. He half expected the BMW to be waiting for him in the parking lot - not that with his expected babysitting duties, they could even have gone to the quarry like normal - but it just wasn’t there. Billy had kept an eye on the road while he was waiting for Max, just in case it pulled in late.

But it didn’t and Billy was well and truly crushed.

He gets it. The day Billy Hargrove was born was a celebration to no one.

He morosely eats his meal, barely even tasting any of it. When he’s done, he gets up, figuring that he may as well clean up. If Max is in her room for the night maybe he can watch something decent.

He gathers up both containers and retrieves Max’s abandoned cutlery from the side. He knows the drill. His birthday will not save him from a bruised eye if the kitchen hasn’t been cleaned.

Max sticks her head into the kitchen just as he begins to run the tap. He tries his best to ignore her but she walks over to him like it’s any other day.

“What do you want, maggot?” Billy grunts, because he fully expects her to ask for dessert. Which, aside from a few old bananas and some stale chocolate chips from Susan’s last happy homemaker baking binge, they don’t have any of.

“Come with me,” Max says firmly. Billy digs his heels in, because he can, because he’s had enough, because he’s eighteen and no one cares.

“Get lost, Maxine,” he says, slamming the cutlery into the sink far harder than he really needs to.

“No, you have to come with me now,” she insists and actually grabs hold of his wrist. Her fingers are thin and delicate around his skin, faint flecks of blue nail varnish on her fingers. Billy stares at her resolute face and wonders how much Susan would mind if he tied up her only child and strung her up from a flagpole outside the high school.

“And I said I don’t want to,” Billy repeats. “I have to clean up.” Max looks behind him at the few items in the sink, the discarded packaging from their dinner and makes a face.

“I’ll do that. Seriously, we only have an hour,” she says, pulling on his arm like she thinks she can move him. “Will you come on? It’s for your birthday.”

Stunned, Billy lets her pull him out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“You got me a present?” he asks incredulously, and Max raises her eyebrows.

“Sort of,” she says vaguely and Billy winces as she twists his skin as she tries to bolt headlong down the hallway. “I had to sort it, that’s why I was late. I didn’t know Mom and Neil were going out for sure until this morning and then I had to use the phone…”

To Billy’s confusion they pass right by her room. Max stops in front of his door, her eyes unusually bright.

“One hour,” she instructs, turning the door handle. “That’s all. I’ll set a timer. And I’ll put the radio on.”

“What the hell do you…” Billy starts to say, as she opens his door and pushes him inside. She slams the door behind him, shutting him in darkness.

“What the hell?” Billy starts, before his words are cut off by a rap at the window.

He nearly shits himself when he sees the face at the window.

“Steve?” Billy hisses incredulously, hurrying across to undo the latch and yank the window up. Steve heaves himself up onto the windowsill and grins.

“Happy birthday,” he says and Billy has to take a step back to let Steve slither into the room.

“What the fuck?” Billy says, because apparently his boyfriend and his sister have been conspiring behind his back all day. Steve lands awkwardly on the carpet, a tangle of limbs and hair and good humor, despite his bad landing. Billy quietly shuts the window again and turns around. But he’s not dreaming and Steve Harrington is really standing in his room. Polo shirt, denim jacket, a lump of car keys in his pocket.

“Thought I was going to get arrested,” Steve says, brushing back his hair from his face in a motion that never fails to make Billy’s stomach dip. Steve’s windswept, his face flushed from the cold and the illicit trip through Billy’s window. “I swear I was going like seventy down Cornwallis.”

“How did you…?” Billy starts, but Steve’s looking around with interest and Billy realizes that Steve’s never been in his room before. There’s a flicker of shame in his belly, because he’s been in Steve’s palatial house, slept naked in Steve’s huge bed, and his own room feels small and dingy by comparison. But Steve noses with interest at his assorted hair products, the scantily clad girls on the calendar, the leather bracelets on his dresser, like he’s actually interested in the effects of Billy’s life.

“I thought you’d forgotten,” Billy says quietly, and Steve sits down on Billy’s single bed. He smooths a hand over the plain blue cover and Billy wonders if that’s why Max was so obvious about the fact that she’d have music on.

“I was going to come visit you at school,” Steve explains.“But Max called this morning and said that your parents were going out. So we planned this instead.”

Billy drops down onto the bed next to Steve, feeling a little stunned that they went through the effort. If Neil and Susan hadn’t gone out, Max probably would have skated to the arcade to buy Steve and Billy some time. But instead, she’d arranged for Steve to come here, ensuring that they’d at least have some time together.

“Your sister is terrifying,” Steve says frankly, perhaps because he can see the gears turn in Billy’s head. He does that - fills the silence with talk when Billy starts to feel a little overwhelmed. “And I say that in comparison to my ex-girlfriend and a kid with superpowers. She called my house at fucking ass o’clock and demanded I get my butt down here.”

“Did she call you again?” Billy asks, suddenly suspicious of Max bolting her dinner. Steve winds his fingers into Billy’s, his skin a little cold from the sharp March bite outside.

“Yeah, she wanted to be sure that it would be dark and your parents hadn’t come back early,” Steve says easily. “She said I had to use the window…?”

“Mrs Haversham is a nosey bitch,” Billy says bluntly and Steve bursts into startled laughter.

“Yeah, she said that too,” Steve says, fondly. He suddenly starts digging into his jacket pocket with the hand that’s not entwined with Billy’s, finally tugging out a small blue box. Billy lets it drop into his open palm, feeling almost raw. He hadn’t expected more of a present, but here’s Steve bringing him fucking jewelry.

When he opens it, it’s a chunky silver ring, the kind that Billy likes to pick up from thrift stores. Only he gets the feeling that this one is a little more expensive and when he peers at the inside of the band, he catches a glimpse of an engraving in the dim light.

“I thought your dad wouldn’t notice if it looked like all the others,” Steve says, like he’s expecting Billy to hate it. Billy stares at the tiny writing, trying to figure out all of the letters by the slim sliver of moonlight. The delicate curve of a S, the double loops of a B, the matching twin shapes of the two Hs…Steve had their initials carved into silver, instead of into a tree, and somehow it’s just so fucking Steve.

Billy carefully slides it onto a finger and then, because it’s the only way he really knows how to show gratitude, he flashes Steve a suggestive grin.

“Max said we only had an hour,” he points out, grabbing for the bottom of his shirt and tugging it over his head. “I wonder what we can do in an hour?”

The glitter in Steve’s eyes suggests that he knows what Billy’s doing, that Billy will thank him with his mouth, even if it’s not by words. But he curls his hand over Billy’s ring finger, carefully brushing against the line between skin and silver, and smiles anyway.

“I think we should find out,” Steve says and loops a hand around Billy’s neck to pull him in.

#harringrove #harringroveweek #billy's birthday bonanza #prompt: microwave dinner #fluff #billy's self esteem issues #billy deserves jewelry and to get plowed on his single bed on his birthday #I screwed up and left this on my work computer #and had to go get it #I mean ahem I do not write harringrove during quiet afternoons #also my arms hurt from bell-ringing #not of any interest to you but my arms are sore as I type this #steve harrington #billy hargrove #Max is going to play madonna very loudly #and briefly regret her kind actions #because they're both loud in bed #I might change the title #I have to go out to see scream 6 soon and my brain is fried

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loveabledirtbag · 9 months

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1.03 - brigade

what a chill opening. we learn carmy owns a coat, AND a hat? not just a white shirt and black pants. that’s what we call character growth, gang.

it’s amazing how in episode one we see the back of mikey’s head, in episode three we hear him say “let it rip, buddy”, and when he is finally revealed later on in the season i had NO idea it was gonna be who it was (more on that later). and now every rewatch when i hear him talk, or we see the back of his head i go “how could i not realize who the actor was playing mikey before it was revealed?”

i had NO idea that was molly ringwald at al-anon for the longest time. but i saw her name in the credits and had to think hard about who it could be! it was honestly like, “well….the only character who even remotely looks kinda like her would be the woman who spoke at the al-anon meeting, but there’s no way….right???” and then i googled it. yeah. that’s molly ringwald! this show does cameos so well. joel mchale last episode, now molly ringwald. so good.

i think it’s really good writing that when carmy attends al-anon for the first time, molly ringwald (i’m sure her character has a name, but i don’t know what it is) talks about “keeping my side of the street clean”, and that inspires carmy to implement it in his own “life”, his life being the shop. however, he doesn’t have the skills, the practice, the knowledge or anything to know how to implement “keeping you side of the street clean”. so he does the best he can with what he has: kitchen systems. which to him means implementing a french brigade. i also love that in the long run doing that DOES actually help the shop, but at the end of this episode we’re kinda shown that it’s a totally shitshow flop.

“remove myself from any situation that is, or could become, toxic”…well, someone’s never worked in the service industry. and i think that’s probably the point? because to me that’s the bigger point being made in her speech, but carmy’s whole life right now is the restaurant, and the restaurant is a toxic situation, and carmy can’t remove himself from his whole life. so he chooses to focus on keeping his side of the street clean instead.

the hard cut to “remove myself from anything toxic” to what is, arguably, the most tense scene of the whole show until episode seven, is very well done. and so poignant. we go from “remove yourself from anything toxic” to jumping RIGHT INTO an extremely toxic situation: richie and sydney screaming at each other, a line out the door, people not doing their job right, the whole works.

also, i don’t want to anger any sydney stans. but i think it’s strange how many people i’ve seen saying that sydney is always perfect, and carmy is always an angry monster. because here is sydney just absolutely making the situation worse by meeting richie at his asshole level. he’s yelling at her, and she’s yelling right back. she’s actively NOT helping. in fact, carmy is the one trying to mediate, and trying to calm everyone down. i’m not trying to shit on sydney! i love sydney. but i’m pointing out that this show is very good at making everyone human. everyone is nuanced. everyone is at fault at one time or another and no one is perfect. im also not defending carmy for every instance. he makes mistakes. REPEATEDLY. but he doesn’t only make mistakes. here is a scene where carmy is trying to do it right, and sydney is at fault. obviously i haven’t even mentioned richie, but that’s because of course richie is at fault. it’s richie. the louder richie is is equal to how wrong he is in any given moment.

the man with the sysco hats orders 2 dogs with everything on them, and richie says “$5.25”…i mean, i know a dog isn’t the most expensive thing in the world, but damn. it’s not exactly a mystery why they were having money problems…i looked up a chicago style hot dog place near me and one dog is $6.25

oh damn, carmy at home, and he’s wearing a black t-shirt! so much character growth! we’re learning carmy owns other clothes!

i think it’s strange in the scene where we see carmy not able to sleep, and so he goes into the restaurant early. because manny, angel, and marcus are already there, but marcus asks “what are you doing here so early?”. that’s not necessarily the most weird thing in the world, bakers are usually the first in at a place, because dough and baking in general takes a lot of time. manny and angel could also be there early to wash dishes. typically dish washers work the hardest in a kitchen. but it is strange because this early into the shift how many dishes are there for them to do? if it’s only marcus getting his prep ready, i don’t think the shop needs to be paying for two dishwashers to wash the few dishes marcus would be making. keep in mind that the beef also only has two dishwashers when they are going through a wild and hectic dinner rush. i find it more believable that they’d need two dishwashers for a dinner rush (professional dishwashers are some of the most skilled dish cleaners you’ll ever meet. they’ll clean shit so fucking fast it’ll blow your mind) more than i believe they need two dishwashers right away in the morning when it’s just marcus prepping dough for sandwich bread. but that’s not even the weird part! marcus wonders why carmy is there early, but then sydney just happens to also be there. she’s just getting in, but she’s at the shop too and no one thinks its weird she’s there so early. and then just a few minutes later ebra is also there. if so many cooks are at the beef right away in the morning, why is it weird that carmy is there? we already know carmy is obsessed with the place and spends all his time there. and he’s also the one who is supposed to be directing everyone in their cooking, as well as helping with prep and cooking himself. so why is it strange that he’s there so early? i assume it is just the writers trying to let us the audience know that he couldn’t sleep?

i do love the sort of inspirational talk carmy and marcus have. where carmy is trying not to be triggered by thoughts of his past restaurant while looking at all the dishes he used to make, as he tells marcus stories, and as marcus is being inspired by them.

not that i’m the most knowledgeable person on cooking and kitchens, my time has been pretty limited, but TWELVE PEOPLE??? i’ve never heard of a dish that takes twelve people to make. by my best estimates with carmy explaining how to make the dish he only mentions maybe 6 people: the two chefs cooking down the plum wine. the person(s) cooking the plum consommé. which carmy says takes hours, so let’s just say it takes two shifts which means two chefs. the chef making the compressed plums. and then maybe a different chef who takes the consommé and makes it into the gelée. idk how you take six chefs and make that into twelve, but DAMN

carmy talks about these compressed plums cut into perfect squares, but there’s no square plums in the picture. which is so confusing to me. i’ve thought about this forever. i hate how much time this has taken up in my life. the plums are circular in the picture, but carmy says squares. why didn’t they write it differently? they had to have had the reference photo for the dish, right?

i like to think that the chef who cracked the plum gelée was luca from copenhagen. but as carmy tells the story we’re only getting flashbacks to his shop in new york, and we don’t have any evidence that luca worked with carmy in new york.

i’m glad that the show addressed being a woman in the kitchen. i know that being a woman in the service industry is getting better, BUT there’s still so much work and progress that needs to be made. obviously. and so we have two women in the beefs kitchen and one has learned how to be as tough as nails (tina) and the other has proved herself with talent, and is insistent that she doesn’t need any help with anything (syd).

it’s also poignant, because sydney is tiny and marcus is a giant with a golden retriever soul, and he just wants to help without even thinking of the fact that sydney is a woman. that’s obviously not an excuse, but i really believe marcus is just puppy-dogging his way forward and is just like “can i help? that thing is three feet above your head, but it’s at my eye line so i can grab it!” and sydney struggling with all her might is like “nah! i got it!” even though she clearly doesn’t got it.

the continuation of the tomato mystery!!! mikey was buying tiny little cans? even though the bigger cans are cheaper per ounce? whatta mysteryyyyyyyyyy????? (more on that later)

the short back and forth between carmy and ebra *chefs kiss*! again, ebra is criminally underused! even more so in season two (more on THAT later). but “english carmen!” “the more i understand about michael, the less i understand. rest in peace, young man” “who cares? we don’t use tomatoes anyway”. there’s nothing abundantly funny in the lines, but ebra’s delivery is just PERFECT

the conversation between carmy and sydney, specifically the conversation continually being interrupted, is just spot on. i don’t think i had a single meeting or important conversation with someone when i worked service industry that wasn’t continually interrupted by a million things. seriously, gang….management in service industry is just a fucking lot.

i think carmy’s idea makes a lot of sense, and also has some context to it. even in episode one carmy says he wants to start defining roles in the shop. i get sydney’s hesitancy because of her history in restaurants, and carmy does a bad job explaining his reasoning behind it. but if you’re dealing with a chaotic shit show, isn’t part of the answer introducing some order?

THAT BEING SAID: the moment sydney agrees to running the kitchen in this new system and carmy says let’s go is SO SHITTY. it might be one of the worst things carmy does in the whole show. reordering an entire restaurants workflow, when some of the staff have been there for DECADES, and putting the responsibility on the newest hire, and then telling her the moment she agrees that it’s gonna happen that instant and she’s going to be running the meeting where is being announced...it’s stupidity to the utmost extreme. i know carmy isn’t trying to be shitty, but FUCK dude. that is SHITTY.

“yo, carm the phone ringing” ….no shit marcus. it’s been ringing all morning, in carmy’s office. where carmy just came from. again, it’s probably a writers technique to show us that the phone ringing is something that we should have on our mind, because this shows sound design is very intentional, and it’s possible we could subconsciously think that the phone ringing is only meant to add to the chaotic sounds of the shop. but when thought of practically…carmy can probably hear the phone marcus.

once again, carmy talking about harnessing their gifts, organizing the special thing the whole team has. in my opinion he is coming from a place of respect, and love for these people (many of whom he has known for years) and wants to give them a chance that life has denied them because he knows they can rise to the occasion if given the chance. but i can also see where people could argue carmy is white-savioring, or “my fair lady”-ing, or some other toxic thing. but i do think carmy is going about this with the right intentions, and not as “i’m better than these peasants, they need my help”

what a weak pun by richie. escoffier/scoffi-gay. weak. i mean, yea, also homophobic and offensive. but what a crime to name puns. come on richie.

i wonder if it means anything that as richie makes the joke, the camera is on angel and he looks sort of annoyed and displeased at richie. we’re two seasons in without knowing much about angel, it could just be a camera cut to make the scene more interesting and dynamic, but for some reason angel is looking at richie and he doesn’t look happy

“i was in a brigade once” “what happened?” “many people died” GOD, EBRA! so funny! but also, fuck, that’s tragic dude! but then carmy’s “…o-okay, this is gonna be different”. is delivered so well. just the air of “i didn’t think i’d have to be telling people that a french cooking brigade would be different than a somalian army brigade…”

“like hierarchy!” “more like a regular chill-archy…” syd is so awkward, and this is one of those scenes where you close your eyes and groan because you wish she was anything but awkward. the writing, the acting. god, so good!

“i’m the sous, right? which means i just follow orders even if it leads to tension, and chaos and resentment and ultimately doesn’t work. but yeah, that’s what i do.” is SO GOOD. if any good person has ever been in a management position before, they KNOW that’s the eternal power struggle between owners and staff. and is also why i think the service industry desperately needs to unionize. because far, far, far too often managers have to voice something from ownership that fucks over the staff because part of their job is just to do as they are told, much like how staffs job is to follow orders from management. and it sucks! and if a good person is not careful, they follow orders and ignore their conscious and walk right off a cliff and suddenly they’re in a viral video talking to camera’s about how their staff deserve to work minimum wage without being allowed bathroom breaks for 12 hour shifts and how child labor laws are ruining this country, all because they’re just doing what the owners are saying and they forget that they’re in charge of actual human beings.

“chef de partie?” “yes” “…i accept!” GOD EBRA!!! i would die for ebra.

i love with the camerawork that from richies face we know something isn’t quite on the level with niko. we don’t know what (yet) but his face says “damnit niko, why are you calling? don’t mess this up for me and get me in trouble.” that’s added to by the subtle “i’ll hit him” from richie. he means “i’ll hit him back” as in “i’ll get back in touch with him and talk” but by cutting out the “back” it sounds a little more threatening: “i’ll hit him”, “i’ll punch him, because he’s gonna get me in trouble.”

also, it’s so beautiful and sad that carmy can’t see richie’s face. because he says that it felt like mikey was alive for a second. and richie looks like “i know exactly what you mean” but richie also looks like he’s saying “i can’t deal with that right now; because i’m barely holding on myself, so i can’t carry you too.” so richie says “no thanks” and carmy is just left to believe richie doesn’t care about him. just more assholery from richie. but we the audience know, oh, richie is broken.

i think the show does a decent job of showing anxiety and panic this season. BUT i think they go above and beyond in season two. the ringing and grabbing his heart is good, but season two really helps channel the anxiety

peep the crisp white sneakers on carmy’s feet as he walks into the church for al-anon. i know jeremy allen white is a sneaker boy, and i wonder if those shoes are just jeremy’s, or if they also wanted to give carmy some sick sneaks to go along with his denim love

quick peep at syd’s japanese knife. much like carmy’s japenese knives. i don’t know if anyone reading this knows about different countries knife philosophies and how their knives are designed to suit that philosophy (maybe philosophy is too strong a word…), but it’s interesting that carmy and sydney share a similar knife

ah, hiding in the walk-in because you need a moment to yourself to stop yourself from crying. i miss it and also don’t miss it. you know? maybe that’s ptsd? the scene is all the better because syd goes into the walk-in talking to the team with the most empty cadence a person can have. she’s saying what she’s supposed to be saying but she doesn’t believe a word of it herself. which also means the team doesn’t believe a word she says

ok. there’s very few good things to say about tina up to this point, which is probably why i haven’t talked about her much. but the fact that she clearly has so much beef with syd, but still she goes into shop-mom mode the moment sydney gets a cut. i just love it. every shop has a shop-mom and every shop needs a shop mom. tina is one of my favorite characters, of all time, and her journey is so well done this season.

and of course sydney doesn’t help anything by getting defensive and once again trying to prove how good and tough she is, instead of just accepting the care and help she needs.

and….of coooourse tina goes from trying to help sydney to then immediately turning the heat up on her stock and sabotaging her. because tina might be the shop mom, but sydney is annoying her, and trying to change everything, and so shop mom goes mama bear on her and fucks with her.

sloppiest “assumed” drug deal ever between richie and niko. like they’re looking around and trying not to get caught and somehow they miss that carmy is RIGHT THERE

here again with syd’s burnt stock, carmy is a little bit of an asshole. obviously we think he’s being more of an asshole than he is, because we know sydney is having a hard time being the sous in the shop with everyone against her, but carmy doesn’t. to carmy, he put the only highly skilled chef in charge while he left, and he gets back and no one is doing what they should AND sydney is (seemingly) making rookie mistakes which she should know better than to make. so he does get a little angry at her, and even from his prospective he could have been less intense, BUT from his view it’s like “how did you mess this up? this is cooking 101”.

again too, when sydney’s trying to explain that tina should be on onions, but tina’s on lemons and carmy just wants her to say “yes, chef” and do the onions…i have mixed feelings on. because, once again, we the audience know that carmy is being an asshole and not helping sydney’s already shitty day. but carmy doesn’t know about sydney’s shitty day (which is also his fault), and to his credit sydney trying to explain that she has tried to get tina to what she’s been told and tina isn’t listening sounds a lot more like whining than explaining. there are times and places, and right after being scolded for burning your stock is not the time to try and explain that the real problem is actually not you, but tina. is carmy ultimately way in the wrong? yeah! but he’s asking syd to say “yes” and in the moment she should have just said “yes”. your bosses makes mistakes, and when they’re telling you something, it’s not the best time to show that they’re wrong and you’re right. sometimes you just gotta say yes, and hate them in your head. and if they’re a good boss (like carmy is) you then go and talk to them when things are calmer. they have that moment later in the episode when things are calmer.

i’m not trying to say that people just have to put up with angry shit from their bosses…but in a moment of stress, ESPECIALLY when you’re in the service industry, sometimes you just gotta nod your head, take whatever they say, and curse them in your head. because in a heated and hectic moment in a shop, you’re not gonna convince them of the nuanced issues going on. that has to come later when things calm down and they have a clear head.

knowing that the hands that are prepping the food are actually syd’s and carmy’s hands (i know the actors have names, i’m sticking with syd and carmy) never ceases to amaze me. especially in the scene where syd preps the onions, because you can really tell she got skilled at it. with carmy they cut back and forth and so they can make us think he’s moving faster than he is, but they had a long shot of sydney just cutting, and she was zooming through. (the gif below is carmy because i was struggling to find a gif of syd cutting)

i always wanna know why the suqaar isn’t good? like, it’s so bad that sydney is near revolted. because ebra says it with such pride and confidence, carmy seems excited by it. but then when sydney tries it she’s so disgusted. was it actually that bad? or was sydney just in such a bad place that nothing could taste good?

those lowboys are SO gross. i have nothing else to say, really. just real bad.

it’s rather unprofessional that when “someone” took sydney’s onions she bursts out of the kitchen to the front of house, WHILE richie is hanging out and talking to a customer, to yell at him asking where her onions are. richie is working. obviously hanging out with customers might not seem much like working, but that’s front of house (FOH) shit right there. and to yell in front of a customer (which she and richie have been doing a lot in this episode) is just unprofessional from someone trained in the way of fine dining.

the small detail of syd having her overwhelmingly bad day, and when she goes into carmy’s office he’s just sitting there, and then the first thing he says is “we should be outsourcing bread”, which was 1) in her 30 page packet last episode, and 2) talked about just a few hours ago in the team meeting carmy skipped out on. it would be beyond frustrating. and we know that carmy is actually working, like, the guy stays late to hand scrub the floor, so he’s really working. but it just looks like he’s chilling while syd is running around, and that doesn’t help her boiling rage and panic.

the most painful thing is the world is sydney yelling at marcus about him offering to help her with something again, to the point that her hand is shaking and her eyes are bulging…and then he leaves and she dumps it all over herself. i’ve never been a woman in a male dominated workspace, but i have been someone who really wants to prove themself, and to then have it blow up in my face, especially if it LITERALLY blows up in my face like it does to syd, and the added shame of knowing you wasted a bunch of money (veal fat isn’t free), is stay-awake-at-night-reliving-that-moment kind of painful.

but, it’s also so sweet, and so relatable of marcus to come in after hearing the spill, to sydney standing there covered in her own mistake, and to wordlessly leave and come back with towels and help her. everyone in the world needs a marcus.

that first inkling of seeing HUGE payments to KBL electric! my brain was just like “oh shit, mikey was laundering HARD”

i love the scene where marcus tells syd that family dinner is ready, when syd walks out of frame we stay for just a moment on tina. tina cleaning her station. because to me i think it’s easy to assume, well, she obviously has to clean her station at some point while working, so it’s now. but after having a few back and forth moments with syd in the episode, where syd specifically asked her to clean up, i think it means something that tina is finally cleaning up. and knowing the arc she goes through in the next episode, i think this is like a seed being planted showing us that even tina is slowly being changed by the new system that carmy and syd are implementing in the beef.

i know that this is like the tiniest detail, that has also been talked about SO MUCH by people in the restaurant industry. but carmy drinking out of a plastic container hits to good every time i see it. i’m 29, i haven’t worked in food-food in like 8 years, and i still love using those containers as water glasses. THEY HOLD SO MUCH, plus you get them for free if you order pho from my favorite restaurant (and most restaurants where you’re ordering soup to go) so it’s like an added treat with my pho.

i do think it’s important that carmy can tell something is wrong with syd. only because he’s been so single minded for three whole episodes. missing cues from the people around him about the pain they’re in. i know there’s a lot of discourse on here about if the relationship between syd and carm is moving towards romantic, or showing the depths of a truly deep and trusting friendship/business partnership, either way i don’t care if the writing and performances are good. but it’s important to note that this is the first time carmy has looked outside of himself/the restaurant at someone else and noticed them for real. he went to find syd, and upon seeing her body language asked her what was wrong. obviously, most of what was wrong is because of him, but he still tried to make it better and showed that he’s the kind of boss who actually cares and is trying to create the best working environment for his staff as possible. he’s just human and struggles at doing it.

i’ve read a few people say it’s shitty that carmy admits to being harder on sydney than everyone else in the shop, but i really don’t think so. no one else has gone to school for cooking. no one else but syd can comprehend most of what carmy says or even understand his vision for the place. syd has been at the beef for a few days/weeks/maybe a month or so? and she’s now the number two over people who have been there for decades. so i don’t think it’s outrageous that carmy holds sydney to a higher standard. or is more upset when she sinks to richie’s level to yell at him, or when she isn’t able to properly make a stock. once again, i’m not trying to excuse carmy’s bad behavior, but my first day in a kitchen i was treated with baby gloves, but when i was a supervisor, and in charge of training people in, i would never hear the end if i messed up something simple. because i knew better, and carmy knows that sydney knows better.

i think it’s worth noting that sydney says “i think this place could be so different than the other places we’ve been at.” she says “we’ve been at”. not “i’ve been at.” she’s assuming, and assuming correctly, that carmy has also been in some terrible kitchens. and she’s assuming, and assuming correctly, that carmy is also really tired of it

i think it’s probably only really tv magic that we’re in episode three and sydney feels comfortable to tell carmy that she wants to partner with him in making the beef better, but that he also has to listen to her ideas. that’s a lot of trust in the emotional maturity and headspace of a boss that you haven’t really had any previous emotional connection with. like we haven’t really seen her and carmy connect or have a mutual understanding of the other. we haven’t seen him give syd a reason to think that he wants her to partner with him in improving the beef, or that he’s all that interested in listening to her ideas. HOWEVER this scene works because we know carmy so well already, and we know syd really well, and their chemistry sells it. so she basically says she wants to talk freely with her boss and be heard and listened to and instead of him shutting her down like 90% of bosses would do, he says “you’re absolutely right, and i agree.”

and for her leap of faith, we see carmy open up to her! carmy opened up! he’s trying to work through his gunk! it’s so good!

FUCK BRUNCH

ok. i love brunch. but i hated working brunch. it’s the worst shift in the world.

the scene where carmy comes out of the beef on a break, cigarette hanging from his lip, his hair a particular kind of wild, to listen to sugar’s voicemail…that is the vibe and look i have wanted to replicate from the moment i saw him, and i have no idea how to show the person who cuts my hair because the look is just “sweat and grease” and that’s a hard ask in a salon chair.

i like the flow of learning its michael’s birthday, with us returning to the beach with carmy. because it makes the fact that carmy heard mikey say “let it rip, dude” more powerful. carmy is thinking of mikey on his birthday, carmy’s been thinking of mikey all day, and it’s been nagging at him and weighing on him and everything he has said and done has been because today hurts worse than most other days have.

the question then becomes: timeline-wise, is carmy at the beach the same scene that started the show? we know that only a day has passed, did carmy wake up and go to the beach, and then after work go to the beach again? i’m sure someone with more attention to detail could tell me if the sun is in the same position in both scenes, or if the sun is on the opposite side of the sky in one from the other. but it mirrors the opening so much that it kinda feels like we opened on either the beginning of the day, or the end of the day, and now we’re closing on that same visit to the beach, to remind us of that trip and to put the day into a greater context with mikey’s birthday. if i had to bet, i would bet that both scenes happen at sunrise, because we have a shot of the shop while the dinner rush is happening and it’s dark outside. like past sunset dark. we know they close late, like 10/11pm late. which is far after sunset. so if carmy is walking outside while there is a sliver of light, it’s probably sunrise.

UFFDA, i love this episode. i feel like it slowed way down (except for that one scene during a lunch rush), and amped up both the emotional ante, and the comedy. the next episode to me is like a mid-season finale, because it wraps up some major themes and storylines and opens up some new ones, but we’ll talk more about that in episode four!

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #marcus the bear #sydney the bear #the bear tv #tina the bear #the bear review #the bear series #carmy the bear #richie the bear #liveblog #live-blogging #the bear episode three #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto

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unholy-obeyme · 2 years

Text

STOMACH CHURNING

Note: This was done as a request for @iamtiredfinalsistheworst

TW: Blo*d mentions, Gore, torture, red room, if I left anything please let me know, it means a lot <33

Note 2: I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope this is to your liking!! Im sorry once again <33

You stared at the carnage in front of you being shown on your laptop screen. The room was red. The sight in front of you was unlike any other sight you had seen. It was positively, stomach churning. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the carnage in front of you.

A MONTH EARLIER :

“Mc?” “Yes sir?” “We have an ongoing investigation about the deep web, you may be aware” “I am aware sir, how am I involved in this issue though sir, if you do not mind me asking” “well, since you are in the cyber security department I’m handing this case over to you. I need you to alert us immediately incase anything, even remotely alarming, let us know immediately.” You merely nodded and walked to your desk as you opened your pc, ready for another round of browsing the potential dangers in the dark web. Hearing about it was one thing, but browsing it? It felt illegal. You even forgot you were a member of the cyber security department and that this was your job. The brothers and the royals, and the other students of RAD had been kind enough to let you off the hook since they knew how important this was for you. The brothers, and the prince and his butler were sitting with you, helping you find any suspicious links, or illegal sites while Simeon and Solomon were keeping Luke away from the carnage you all were about to witness. It was then Leviathan pointed on a link which seemed extremely suspicious despite the innocent url. Nothing could have prepared you all for what was going to present itself on the laptop screen. When you clicked on it, it asked for all of your details, which you filled, as you gave it false details to remain undercover. The screen loaded for a while, as the screen read:

ll WELCOME TO THE RED ROOM ll

Your stomach dropped as you immediately understood what you were getting exposed to. “Mc?” Asked Lucifer worriedly, as you immediately started trembling lightly. “I-it’s nothing.. I-I’ve seen plenty of t-this, I-it’s my j-job you k-know” you stuttered as you clicked the link and it led you to a room. It illuminated red, a man was tied to the centre of a bed, naked, while the wall was decorated with all sorts of knives and machetes you never knew existed. “Hey human…” Mammon stated as he and the others knew where this was going. You watched as the man was screaming in fear while there was another individual watching him scream in fear while asking the viewers their weapon of choice. The prince had a serious scowl on his face as he watched each and every one of those viewers and their sick chats. The carnage soon started as the individual dragged a rake all over the naked man’s body drawing blood and creating open gashes. To say you were scared, was an understatement. You were witnessing a live murder, that had existed much much before you were even notified of it…. How many people died at the hands of this man? The demons, however, were furious. Each and every viewer would be dragged to the deepest pits of hell as they watched the innocent man was killed, then his wife, and his kids…. It was then Mammon snapped out of his anger as he noticed you staring at the screen, frozen in fear, as your eyes, with tears prickling at the corners as you were trying to process everything happening in front of you. He immediately notified others about your distressed state by which the prince immediately closed the pc. Clearly you did not expect this. The others too, suppressed their anger and helped you calm down from your hysterical state.

Belphegor lulled you to sleep as he immediately held you close as you slept with small dried tears. “Why must you do this to yourself Mc..” he asked tenderly as the others bitterly retreated to their rooms. Your task can wait. What mattered the most was your mental and physical health and that’s what everyone focused on. You were granted a holiday to recover and the best therapist was on speed dial incase you ever needed help. But everyone could agree on one thing.

While, the entirety of the human race may not be as bad or twisted, this one was particularly

Stomach churning

#<33 #answers #obey me x mc #obey me #dark obey me

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flutternozzle · 2 years

Text

ok, thoughts on the new doctor who episode now i’ve had time 2 let it sink in a bit!! 🥳

first of all, that was fucking brilliant!! definitely the most i’ve enjoyed a new doctor who episode in a while, and i’m so glad jodie got to have a good send off, apart from some wonky writing i’ve rly enjoyed her portrayal of the doctor, and it’s what she deserves 🥹

but it’s hard to say that without also saying that it’s frustrating in a way, cos it goes to show that chris chibnall rly Can write good doctor who.. so it’s a shame i haven’t enjoyed all the rest of his era that much, like it could have been So good if it was all on that level!! like, i haven’t Hated this era, but it’s just disappointing how it didn’t all fully live up to it’s potential 😔

but onto the good stuff: first off, dan’s departure was done v well, it felt v realistic for him to leave after that, and i suppose it was never gonna be the biggest thing in the world cos he hadn’t been a companion for long 😅

altho one more negative, again, dan’s departure after just a few episodes did So much more for me than when ryan and graham left, and they’d been companions for 2 whole series?? like their departure was just.. so flat to me, and even after 2 series i still didn’t feel emotionally connected to them all that much 😬 but yeah, ugh, that’s not rly got much 2 do w/ this episode 😭

ace and tegan’s return was handled rly well, and it was great to see them back!! i was a bit worried like, with So many characters in this episode that it’d feel too bloated and messy (like some of the other episodes this era w/ too many characters in 😅) but no, it worked well, and was all i could ask for!!

storywise, it was Incredibly fun, which is what i want most from doctor who, and also well paced imo, much better than some of the frenetic flux episodes, and the trainwreck of “legend of the sea devils” 😭

the master was fantastic, as he has been in all his episodes, sacha dhawan was Genius casting and i hope we get to see his master again someday

peter davison, colin baker and sylvester mccoy returned was leaked months ago, so i wasn’t surprised by their return, but it was still a joy to see them back, especially w/ 5’s interaction with tegan, and 7’s with ace 🥺

david bradley returning as the 1st doctor was a surprise tho, and so was fucking PAUL MCGANN??! 🤯 i will Never not want more of 8 🥹

the only one minor criticism i do have is the doctor’s death wasn’t.. anything especially special?? 😅 i’m not even fully sure what happened, the master had a remote control that.. turned the laser to blast at her i guess?? but still, not that much of a biggie 🤔

yaz’s final scene with the doctor rly hit the mark too 🥺 i wasn’t sure exactly how they were gonna get her to leave satisfactorily?? but nope, that did it!! and it’s always open for her to return one day, which is nice 😌

it was also nice seeing graham again, even if i didn’t enjoy his departure before that much!! and his scene w/ ace and the psychic paper in the volcano was gr8, they had a surprisingly good dynamic in that little scene 😭

i wonder where ryan was tho?? i thought he was rumoured to be in it too, but nope, not in it at all?? 😧 i wonder if tosin cole was just unavailable or s/t??

and that support group scene!!!! mel!! jo grant!! ian chesterton!!!!! fantastic they finally managed to get william russell back, considering he’s 97 now 🥹 obviously a little fanservicey cameo fest there, but it’s still always so nice to see classic who companions back again 🤧

so finally.. the regeneration into tennant?! 🤯 i called it about 7 months ago, when it was first rumoured david tennant was returning that it was gonna end with “what?? what?! WHAT??!” 😅 but what’s interesting to note is that after the episode aired, the bbc posted an article saying he’s actually gonna be The 14th doctor, and ncuti gatwa will be the 15th?? 😧 so that’s a surprising development, i’d assumed ncuti was gonna be the 14th, and david was just gonna be like, an unnumbered doctor, just around for the specials?? but then it looks like ncuti is gonna be in the specials too so..?? lots to think abt there 😳 just a shame they’re so fucking long away, i was hoping there’d still be a christmas/new year special, and the other 2 specials would then be spaced out over 2023 😔

and.. that’s abt all i think, or at least all i can think of rn?? might add more if i think of anything else, but all in all, rly enjoyable and a gr8 final episode for 13, which i’m rly happy abt!! 🥰

#dw.txt

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banqdanfnfic · 3 years

Text

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

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thebluenoteblog · 3 years

Text

Chasing After You

Summary: Matthew just can’t let you go, no matter how hard he tries. Unluckily, you have the same problem.

Player: Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: I don’t know... a lot of drinking. A few bad words.

Authors Note: Be gentle, this is the first thing I’ve written in a really long time. It might be (probably is) a dumpster fire.

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Matthew had finally reached rock bottom, he had to admit that, though to no one other than himself. Sitting home alone on a Friday night. No game to play, no practice to keep his mind busy, no friends to hang out with. Just him, a beer, the temptation of something stronger, and nothing on the TV.

It was really pathetic. The guys wouldn't believe it if they saw him right now. Or maybe they would. Maybe pathetic was his new style, it was certainly starting to feel like it after all.

He grabbed the remote off the couch beside him and began to flip channels, eventually settling on a baseball game. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the game to tell you the score, he wasn't sure he even knew what teams were playing.

Just a few minutes into the game that he was sort of watching, there was a knock on his door. He checked his watch, 10:34. You were earlier than usual.

He pushed himself up off the couch and made his way to the front door of his apartment. He knew it was you. You were the only one the front desk let up without calling him. He still didn't know how you had managed that. Did you sweet talk the workers? Probably.

He pulled the door open and there you were, bottle of wine in hand. “I finished one already, but I thought you might be open to having a drink with me.”

There were a thousand alarm bells going off in his head, but he stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You kicked off your shoes in the entryway and followed him into the living room. Neither of you bothered with grabbing glasses, you uncorked the bottle and took a sip before passing it to Matthew.

He knew where this was going, he always did. He couldn't tell you why he never stopped it. Or maybe he could. Maybe he knew and he didn't want to admit that even after everything you had done to hurt him over the years, he was still unbelievably, irrevocably in love with you.

Then I wake up with you on my chest

You got a way of making me forget

Girl, with you the answers always yes

Every time you call

He was warmer than usual. It took him a minute to register you in his arms, head positioned comfortably on his chest. The way you used to sleep almost every night but now reserved for nights that you’d downed your alcohol a little to quickly.

Matthew was afraid to move, he knew that as soon as he stirred you, you’d be out the door just as quickly as you'd walked through it the night before. Just like that you would burst his bubble all over again. Just like you had a hundred times before.

Eventually your eyes fluttered open and he watched as you scanned the room, taking in where you were. “Morning,” he said.

You smiled, “Morning.”

The smile gave him hope that he squashed down just as quickly as it appeared. “Stay for breakfast?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Do I have to cook it?”

“I’ll order in,” He laughed softly. He would never let you cook for him again if that was all it took for you to stay. It wasn't, but he could dream.

You nodded, “I’m going to take a shower. What time do you have practice?”

Matthew glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I’ve got a few hours still.”

You pushed up off his chest and he immediately missed the warmth of your body. He wanted to tell you to come back, just for a little while longer but he knew better. So he let you go, because having you in his shower was better than having you in an uber on the way back to your apartment.

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

You stretched up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s lips. It was soft, barely there. “I’ll call you.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

He nodded, “Text me when you get home safe.”

You nodded. “I will.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

You turned away from him and he watched as you disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator. When he couldn't see you anymore, he pushed the door closed and made his way back to the living room.

Here he was again, a fucking idiot with a broken heart and nothing but time to kill.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

Matthew glanced down at his phone, tuning out the guys as he scanned the message, What are you doing tonight?

He typed out a response before anyone could realize who he was talking to. Nothing important.

Your response was almost immediate, I’ll be over in an hour.

Matthew rose from his seat and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Hey guys, I’ll catch you later.”

Johnny sighed, “Don't do it man, you're going to regret it.”

Matthew shook his head, “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

They looked at each other before turning back to him, “Man, this is getting ridiculous. She isn't good for you.”

“How do you know what's good for me?” Matthew asked, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “I think I can protect myself, I'm a big boy.”

Johnny sighed and waved a hand in his general direction, “Whatever, do what you want. Just don't come whining to me when she disappears again.”

Matthew snorted, “I don't plan on it.”

Then he was gone, phone in hand calling an uber.

Listen

Wish I could quit you but it feels too good

If I could turn it off, you know I would

But somethin' 'bout you makes me think we could

Make it after all

There was nothing in the world that made you angrier than your inability to walk away from Matthew. After everything the two of you had put each other through, there was no reason to keep going back. Yet… here you were. Standing outside his apartment after what was essentially a booty call.

You almost wished that Matthew would tell you to fuck off just so you could move on with your life. He wouldn't do that though, you knew Matthew too well and he knew you too well too. That was the problem. You had been with each other on some level for so long that you couldn't remember what it was like to be apart.

You hadn’t knocked yet, you could still leave. Go home and do the responsible thing for once.

“Y/N.”

You turned toward the elevators, and there was Matthew. He looked amazing, t-shirt tight over his chest and shoulders, hair just a little bit in his eyes, the way you loved. There was no chance that you were leaving now. You were in this for the night now, not that this was bad news. You had never intended on leaving without seeing him.

“You’re early.” He said, running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” You said, “I was bored.”

He nodded, “I can fix that.”

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

Why did he always think it would be different? Why was he always so determined to let himself think that there was a chance things would work out this time or next time or the time after that. There was no logical reason to believe that after all this time, anything would change, yet here he was, once again, surprised on some level that you had left him high and dry.

He closed the door, you had long since disappeared into the elevators, and he collapsed onto the couch. There was no way he would be hearing from you again for a while, so he buried his face in the throw pillow and decided to take a long nap.

After all, he had gotten no sleep the night before.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

You were always the one to end things. You had never, in your life, had your heart broken. You never let things get that far. You loved love, but you hated the idea of being hurt. So you kept everyone who tried to love you at a distance. Matthew was no exception, in fact he was the blueprint. There was no way you could ever give him your whole heart, there was no way you could ever trust him with a part of you that you had never given to anyone.

Oh, but you wanted to. More than anything, you wanted to give him every part of you in every way. You knew he loved you, on some level you knew that he would never hurt you, but here you were, three years into a mess of your own creation with no idea how to fix it.

“Y/N, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

You glanced up from your hands, eyes scanning the massive wall clock hanging above your therapists desk. Your appointment would be over in twenty minutes and you had yet to say a word to her. “I don’t know where to start today.”

She nodded, “What is bothering you today? Let's start with that.”

You sighed, “Matthew.”

“What about him?” She asked, tapping her pencil on the notepad that rested on her crossed legs.

You resisted the urge to sigh again. “I just…” You looked down at your hands, “I wish that I could let myself be happy with him.”

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Two firm raps on the door had Matthew freezing as he poured his drink. He set the bottle down and made his way to the living room. He pulled the door open and there you were, beautiful as ever. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, hands in the pocket of your coat. “Hey, Matthew.”

Matthew smiled his eyes wondering over you, memorizing every inch as he stepped out of the way to let you into the apartment. “No wine this time?”

“No, no wine tonight..”

He laughed as he pushed the door closed behind you. “It's okay, I have some.”

You kicked off your shoes by his front door before turning to face him. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could try this sober tonight.”

Matthew stared at you, his expression some strange mix of confusion and hopefulness. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You wanted to tell him that you were working on your shit, that you were trying to be less scary and damaged, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to share that with him. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a joke, “What, do you have to be drunk to enjoy my company?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “No, not at all.”

He followed you into the living room and took a seat beside you on the couch. Like always he gave you space. This time you scooted closer to him. His eyebrows rose for a split second, then he put an arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote from the end table. “Want to watch a movie? I hear there’s some new Netflix original thats really good.”

You nodded and sank into his side as he scrolled through the selections.

Maybe this wasn't so scary.

Maybe you could get used to this.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

Friends with Added Benefits

Part one of ?

Warnings - smut / daddy kink / breeding kink

You and Cillian had been working together on Peaky Blinders since the beginning- it had become a FWB situation at the end of Series 4 after a drunken kiss at the wrap party. Both of you had kept it completely secret, hooking up solely while you were filming series 5 and living out your own lives the rest of the year, but what happens when things take an unexpected turn as series 6 begins filming?

A/N - Cillian is single, and has no children. Reader is in her early 30s, and plays Tommy Shelby's wife.

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby

You sat on the floor of the bathroom and took a deep breath. Now or never y/n... A sudden voice jolted you from your thoughts.

"Y/n, you in there?" What the fuck was he doing here? How did he get into your apartment?

"Sorry, yeah.. I'll be out in a minute..." You flushed the toilet and quickly hurried out of the bathroom.

Cillian greeted you with a warm smile, sat on your sofa with the TV remote in his hand already flicking through the channels.

"You left the door unlocked - came in to make sure you were okay, you seemed a bit off onset today?" He patted the sofa next to him for you to sit down.

"Sorry... Just a bit tired I guess, only been back a day and I'm done already!" He lifted an arm to pull you into and you happily accepted the invitation.

"So series 6 then.. the last one," you sighed, curling your legs over his.

"Yep. Only gotta put up with me for another 16 weeks and you're free to do as you please. Or who you please at least," he kissed the top of your head and chuckled, you feigned your own chuckle in response. You knew this was just a 'filming only hook up', but you couldn't help but feel a bit sad. You'd looked forward to Peaky restarting again the second each series had finished. You knew though, that there was no tying Cillian Murphy down - other women had tried, but he was a happy, carefree bachelor. You'll make the most of the next 16 weeks together and move on.

Before long his fingers made their way over your hips, circling slowly as they crawled over your stomach.

"Does our agreement still stand or do I need to stop?" He whispered, sending a shiver down your spine.. that fucking accent...

"I'm single again, if that's what you're asking me.."

"Again?"

"I was seeing someone.. I ended it a month ago." He pulled back slightly.

"Sorry y/n.. were you with him long?"

"Just a few months, nothing serious it was just a casual type thing. He decided he couldn't compete with Thomas Shelby."

"You told him about us?!"

"No, the rumours have been flying for YEARS Cillian! He wouldn't believe me when I told him it wasn't true.."

"That's because it is true, and you're a terrible liar!" He smirked, before pushing your body down on the sofa, covering it with his own.

"He'd certainly have his work cut out for him wouldn't he?" You smirked back. "You gonna show me what I've been missing Mr Murphy?"

"I absolutely am Miss y/l/n... But let me shower first? I'm still wearing the makeup from earlier and it's pissing me off!" He kissed you lightly on the nose before grabbing one of your towels out the cupboard and heading into the bathroom.

He came out 10 minutes later, towel wrapped round his waist and stood next to the sofa, brow furrowed.

"What's this for y/n?" You looked up and your heart sank. In his hand was the pregnancy test box you'd hidden in your cabinet - clearly not hidden too well.

"Well it isn't for baking cakes Cill..."

"Are you pregnant?"

"I don't know yet, I haven't taken one.."

"Well what are you waiting for? Come on." He took your hand and handed you one of the tests. "Go do it. Now." You couldn't help but laugh at his insistence and went to pee on the stick.

Coming back out with the test in your hand two minutes later, you held it up to show him, tears in your eyes as your chin wobbled. He was pulling his jeans back on as he took the test from you.

"Okay well now I'm confused? It's negative - why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, I'm fine.." you choked, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

"Come on, y/n... What's wrong?" He pulled you over to the sofa and sat you down, squeezing your hands, worry written all over his face.

"You wouldn't understand Cillian, just leave it okay?"

"Did you want it to be positive?" You looked into his eyes and burst into tears, nodding. "You wanted his baby?"

"It wasn't that.. Cillian I'm 32 years old. Kinda thought I'd be married with a kid or two by now you know? I'm sorry okay, I'm just being stupid..."

"What's stupid about wanting children of your own?"

"Because I'm never going to have it am I?"

"Says who?" You took a deep breath.

"Look it's crazy okay, I'm just hormonal and crazy..."

"Okay you're not crazy y/n. Pretty sure it's normal to want children and marriage, I'm just an oddball!" He laughed. He'd made no secret of the fact he had no paternal instincts at all.

"Thing is... I don't want marriage. Not even a relationship.. just a baby. Still think I'm normal?"

"You might struggle there y/n.. I don't need to have 'the talk' with you, do I?" He smirked.

"No Cillian I'm well aware.. I was thinking of adoption maybe, or a sperm donor?"

"Admirable for the adoption route. Terrifying for the other one, you could end up with anything..."

"True. Kinda leaning more towards all of that though.. the feeling of carrying my own baby is just.. it's exciting I guess. I'm freaking you out, aren't I?"

"Strangely.. no. In fact, I have an idea."

"What?"

"You want a baby, but not a father, right?"

"Right."

"The dad doesn't need to be involved at all, ever, yeah?"

"Nope, never. I don't need help emotionally, financially, nothing."

"Well let's make a baby then." Your neck nearly snapped with the force you looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?!"

"I have exactly what you're looking for, right? I have decent genes, copious amounts of sperm as you know very well," he smirked. You weren't laughing though.

"You're insane, you can't possibly think this is a good idea?"

"Why not? You've made it clear that you're not interested in a relationship - that's one of my boxes ticked. I get to have sex with you without a condom - second box ticked. I get to fuck a pregnant woman - third box ticked. Kinda been a fantasy for a while..." You raised an eyebrow at his last admission.

"Do we have a daddy kink, Cillian?"

"Yeah, without the desire to actually be a Daddy. Just the thought of you.. swollen belly.. breasts overflowing... Fuck y/n you'd look sexy as hell..." He made his way over to you, the bulge in his jeans evidence of his arousal at the thought of you being pregnant.

"And you'd sign over all parental rights to me?"

"Just tell me where to sign..." His hands cupped your face gently as he pushed his body against yours, backing you up towards your bedroom.

"No weirdness... No one would know the baby was yours?"

"No one..." He pulled at your t shirt, lifting it over your head before crashing his lips against yours, both of you falling onto the bed together as he pushed his erection against your core hard. Unhooking your bra and throwing it across the room, his lips found your nipple, sucking and nibbling on it as he pulled your jeans and underwear down your legs.

"Fuck.. Cillian.. you need to be sure about this..."

"Never been more sure of anything y/n.. I'm gonna put a baby in you... Let me put a baby in you..."

You gave in when his fingers entered you, pulling forward finding that one spot inside that only he could find. Your hips bucked against his hand as your eyes closed, mouth open gasping his name.

"Fuck I've missed this... Don't stop..." His lips were on your neck, leaving marks that your makeup artist wouldn't thank you for tomorrow but you didn't care in the slightest, the need in you too much.

"I need to feel you on me y/n... Come for me girl..." his fingers pulled harder and faster, sending you over the edge while his voice whispered in your ear. Within seconds of your orgasm he pushed his length inside you with a hard groan, lifting your leg over his elbow. Your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust his hips, hitting that sensitive spot over and over again.

"Yes... Fuck yes baby fill me up..."

"You want this huh? Fuck you feel good bareback... I can feel all of you..."

"You feel so good Cillian... Filling me up... So fucking deep..."

"Fuck.. I'm gonna come... Jesus y/n..." The sensations too much, he spilled into you, you could feel ropes of his cum deep inside as your walls milked him for all he had. He fell onto your chest, pushing himself as deep inside as he could.

"I'm not letting any of this fall out... Need it to take... Stay on your back." You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him softening inside you.

"You really want to do this, don't you?"

"If it makes you happy, yes. You want a baby, I want to give you a baby. You don't want a father, I don't want to be one. I see no problem with any of this."

"And if the baby looks like you?"

"Crazy coincidence."

"If you change your mind?"

"About what? Being involved? I won't, trust me."

"Reckon we've made a baby tonight?"

"We may well have done. I still get to fuck you if we have, though, right?"

"Damn right you do - you're giving me a baby, least I can do is give you a pregnancy fuck to say thank you," you laughed as he pulled out slowly, kissing your lips then down to your belly.

"You better hurry up in there, I've got a fantasy to cash in on..." You batted him away laughing as he moved over to collect his clothes. He never stayed overnight, it would raise too much suspicion. He winked at you as you lay on the bed, and headed out the door smiling.

This might just work out, you smiled, curling under the sheets and drifting off, dreaming of your blue eyed baby.

#cillian fanfic #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x pregnant reader

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localgenius · 3 years

Text

The Romance of the Pear

Sorry I’ve been mia for the last couple of months! I’ve just finished high school so that has been taking up most of my focus, but in the meantime I’ve been working on this! I don’t really know what it is tbh, but I’ve enjoyed writing it and I hope that you’ll enjoy reading it!

A story about Spencer being in love with the reader, and the reader being in love with Spencer

tw: mentions of rape, murder, horrific actions towards women, swearing

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (13.2k) (the app might crash, so it can be an idea to read on a browser!)

The sky outside of the windows was painted a gloomy grey, raindrops falling and hitting the glass of the windows, making them the only noise in the otherwise quiet office.

Y/N was sitting at her desk, her hand fiddling idly with one of her pens as she read over one of the cases she was designated to counsel on. The knitted cardigan around her shoulder helped her to not feel the impending chill from the poor weather, and her feet had abandoned the heels and had found purchase under her body on her chair.

“Good morning sunshine,” a voice pulled her eyes away from the details of horrific killings of prostitutes in the case files.

“Morning Emily,” she smiled back, feeling her mood brighten just the slightest.

“Why are you in so early on a Monday?” Emily asked as she dropped her things down by her already cluttered desk, before she made her way over to take a seat on the edge of Y/N’s desk.

“Oh, I had to talk with Knightly down at sex crimes about this case,” she pointed down at the open case file, not protesting when Emily moved to lift it up to have a look. “And he’s going to Texas at nine, so I had to come in earlier.”

“He carves hearts into their chests?” Emily asked with disgust in her voice after she placed the file back down on the desk.

“Yeah,” Y/N dragged out the word, as she leaned forward to rest her face in her hands. “But not before he rapes and sexually mutilates them. Charming fella.”

“Sounds like a real prince charming,” Emily laughed before she moved to the kitchenette.

“Good morning Prentiss, Y/L/N,” a third voice entered the conversation as Hotch made his way through the glass double doors, rain droplets decking his coat, in a way that reminded Y/N of the way flower petals looked after a storm.

“Morning sir,” Y/N smiled at him and watched him close himself into his office for the day.

“Why hearts though,” Emily said as she came back to reclaim her spot on the edge of the desk.

“I really don’t know,” Y/N grumbled while she leaned back in her chair, “there’s the obvious correlation with love, but the way he treats them screams anything but love and affection. So, my guess is that it has something to do with the view of prostitutes and sex. You know, maybe he believes that sex is a sin, and the only right way to have sex is in marriage, and these prostitutes just throw out their love every time they’re with a new john. But I’m honestly as lost as you are.”

“That’s a good theory,” Emily bounced back, “many people do call it ‘making love’, so if the unsub thinks that the prostitutes are just selling their bodies without a care about love, he might do it to symbolize the love that they could never have.”

“Right,” Y/N was quick to scribble it down on the page as a possible motive for the signature, “thanks Em.”

“Did you know that the shape of the symbolic heart as we know it today originated in the bottom corner of a manuscript called ‘The Romance of Alexander’ dated around 1340?” a voice spoke behind them, as it moved across the room.

“Good morning Spencer,” both Y/N and Emily said, Y/N’s eyes still locked on the file she was scribbling in. “And no, I didn’t know that” Y/N said when she was done writing, letting her eyes meet his across the divider between their desks, as Emily scurried back to her own desk to avoid being a part of the incoming info dump.

“Yeah, and the first illustration of the amorous heart was in 1250 in a picture called ‘The Romance of the Pear’, where a pear, eggplant or pinecone, there is some debate, is an allegory for the heart,” he continued as he dropped his satchel by his desk and sat in his chair before turning on his monitor.

“A pear?” Y/N asked softly, letting her fingers start to mess with the pen again.

“Hm,” Spencer continued, his honey eyes meeting hers. “In western culture the pear is also a symbol of female erotic.”

“Ooh,” Derek’s voice interrupted the quiet moment, breaking the sweet gaze between the two profilers. “Female erotic, my field of expertise.”

“Jesus,” Y/N laughed and turned away from Spencer to face Derek as he draped his jacket over the back of his swirly chair. “Have you just dropped chivalry all together now, or what?”

“What?” Derek asked, as Emily joined in Y/N’s laughter, “I’m just being honest. What are you and pretty boy doing speaking about female erotic at 8:30 on a Monday morning anyway?”

“I was just telling Y/N the symbolism of pears,” Spencer said, not removing his eyes from the monitor, where he was checking his emails against his will.

A smile tugged on Y/N’s lips when she remembered him coming back from being called to Hotch’s office and telling her that he was being forced to get an email account by the bureau. Both Y/N and Penelope had helped him set it up, and he had countless times sheepishly asked Y/N to help him write out a reply.

“Ah yes,” Derek teased as he took a seat in his chair, “symbolism of pears. Just a regular conversation topic on this gloomy Monday morning.”

“I don’t even want to know how on earth you got around to that topic,” Rossi added when he came walking past the clutter of desks.

“It was just-“ Y/N started to explain the obscure conversation topic as Rossi moved up the short flight of stairs.

“No! Don’t wanna hear it,” Rossi called back as he closed his office door.

The four agents shared a look of amusement as they all started on their designated work for the day, the raindrops still trailing down the planes of glass of the windows.

After an hour of silence, only occasionally being interrupted by an agent coming or going or a phone call, Y/N felt herself becoming more and more disheartened by the case on her desk. After having worked at the BAU for approximately a year now, she would have thought that she would have gotten used to the evil the team faced on a daily basis. But something about this guy, ruthlessly raping and killing innocent women, hit her a bit different than she had anticipated.

Letting her feet down from her chair she put them back in her shoes before walking over to the kitchenette to make herself a cup of tea as a comforting hug.

As she stood idly twirling the spoon around in the hot water while waiting for the sugar to dissolve, she heard the signature sound of heels thumping against the floor.

“Good morning my dear angel,” Penelope greeted cheerfully as she came in with her pink octopus mug. Penelope had seemingly decided to take it upon herself to be the sun on the gloomy day; her bright yellow dress making Y/N smile and momentarily forget the case that was patiently waiting for her back at her desk.

“Good morning Pen,” Y/N said and leaned against one of the cupboards as she watched Penelope make her daily green tea. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she exclaimed as she poured hot water into the mug, “I babysat Henry which is always a blast, and then I went shopping and I found the cutest earrings in this small shop. I have to take you at some point!” Penelope said, letting her words come out a mile a minute, only making Y/N’s heart grow lighter.

“I would love that Pen,” Y/N said as they started to make their way back to Y/N’s desk.

“Morning baby girl,” Derek said as he swirled his chair to look at the two girls coming back.

“Morning chocolate thunder,” Penelope said as she perched herself on the edge of his desk. “What did my wonderful Captain America replica do this weekend?”

As the two of them lost themselves in their daily flirtations Y/N made her way back to her desk, only to find the dreaded file missing from its place. She looked around confused, before seeing the familiar pictures over on Spencer’s desk, where he was writing at lightning speed.

“Spence?” Y/N asked softly, but before she could continue, he closed the file and handed it back over to her. He simply gave her a quick, tight-lipped smile before he turned back to his own mountain of paperwork.

Slowly, not taking her eyes from the genius across from her, she opened the file, and saw how he had completed the file for her. His chicken scratches took over where her handwriting had stopped. The time pressure he had been under was clear in the simple short sentences he had scrawled down at the bottom.

Before she could exclaim her gratitude, a bimble came from Penelope’s cell phone and she let out a sad sigh before getting up from her seat on Derek’s desk.

“Duty calls avengers,” she said as she moved to Hotch’s office, while the others started to go to the briefing room.

Before Y/N could get up, Spencer had already bounced up the flight of stairs and was quickly making his way to the briefing room.

“We have an icky case on our hands this time, my dear crime fighters,” Penelope said as she stood by the screen, remote ready in her hand. “Last night, a civilian found a leg wrapped in garbage bags when she took out the trash in central Indianapolis. The leg belonged to Louise Obsen, a 28 year old accountant. The remaining parts of her body were found wrapped in a similar way, dumped in various dumpsters around the block.”

The silence stretched across the briefing room as everyone took in the gruesome details of the murder.

“The dismemberment could be a forensic countermeasure,” Spencer said as he glanced over the file, “it’s easier to hide parts of the body than a whole body.”

“Do we know how the unsub dismembered the bodies?” Emily asked as she flipped through the pictures.

“Yes,” Penelope said as she swallowed harshly as she pressed a button on the remote. “The coroner says the limbs were removed with a standard saw, nothing special. But all of this happened postmortem, the COD was a gunshot to the back of the head.”

“Execution style,” JJ mumbled, “is this the only victim?”

“No,” Hotch said, eyes focused on the case file, “two weeks ago the Indianapolis PD found a young woman, Emma Day, dismembered and discarded in the same way. She was 29”

Penelope clicked on her remote, but she kept her eyes looking straight ahead. Y/N noticed the clear look of discomfort in her eyes, and silently reached down under the conference table and gave her hand a gentle squeeze of comfort.

“They certainly look alike,” Derek chimed in as he looked at the two women on the screen. “Pretty girls with black hair in their late twenties; they’re probably surrogates for the unsubs' real target.”

“What did Emma do for a living Pen?” Y/N asked, her hand still wrapped around Penelope’s.

“She worked as a caretaker at a residential facility, by all accounts she was very well liked there. Both of them were, in fact.”

“Both low-risk victims,” Rossi pondered as he closed his file, “that means that he probably doesn’t appear as a threat.”

“Which makes him all the more dangerous,” Hotch said as he collected his files, “wheels up in 30.”

The plane ride was mostly silent after the team had gone over the case once more.

Y/N was sitting by the window, book laying open in her lap, but her mind was flying with the fluffy clouds outside of the window.

One of her hands was fiddling with the pendant of her necklace as she observed the way the ground was moving underneath the jet.

“Metamorphoses,” a gentle voice pulled her out from her reveries, and her eyes drifted away from the window to see Spencer take the seat across from her, holding a cup of strawberry tea out to her.

“Excuse me?” she asked softly, still a tad too lost in her own head to be able to catch up with him.

“Your book,” he said, gesturing to the book in her lap. “You’re reading Metamorphoses.”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, moving to shut the book and rest it on the table in between them. “I uh,” she started as she straightened up in her seat, “I took a class in classics at university, and I found my notes a few weeks back, and I remembered how much I loved Ovid’s writing and his stories, so I went and bought it this weekend.”

“Which one is your favourite?” Spencer asked softly, taking a sip from his own mug, undoubtedly filled to the brim with a concussion of coffee and sugar.

“Do you promise you’re not going to judge me?” Y/N asked, as she teasingly raised her eyebrows as she also took a sip of her mug.

“I promise,” Spencer laughed incredulously, “I would never judge anyone who voluntarily reads Ovid.”

“Okay fair enough,” she said and let both of her hands wrap around the mug to get some heat into her hands. “It’s probably ‘Apollo and Daphne’, very unoriginal, I know.”

“No, no uh-,” Spencer was quick to sit up straighter and lean on over the table while I cleared his throat, “that one’s really good. I love it too actually.”

“You do?” Y/N asked, unconsciously leaning in closer to Spencer.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, “I find that there’s something beautiful in loving someone who will never love you back.”

“Beautiful?”

“Yeah, you see, it’s kind of like the oldest story known to man. Unrequited love. And I don’t know, I guess I just know the feeling. To love something that’s so far out of my reach,” he explained softly, letting his eyes fall to the coffee in his mug.

“Spencer,” Y/N mumbled softly, letting her hand creep closer to where he was gripping his mug tightly. “Nothing will ever-“

But before she could finish her sentence Emily popped up and interrupted the two of them.

“We’re landing in ten, Y/N you’re with me, we’re going to go to the different dumpsites.”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N said breathlessly, as she watched Spencer quickly regain his posture and leaned back in his seat as he fastened his seatbelt, pretending that he hadn’t just shared something that would now be permanently engraved into Y/N’s brain.

“What were you and Reid talking about on the jet?”

The question pulled Y/N out of her thoughts as she was reading over the case fil once more before they arrived at the first dumpsite.

“Huh?”

Emily turned her head to quickly glance at the younger agent next to her, her sunglasses covering her mischievous eyes.

“On the jet,” she further went on, “you both looked like you were seconds away from imploding from feelings.”

“Oh,” Y/N laughed awkwardly, straightening up her back, trying to square up a bit unconsciously. “We were just talking about this book I’m reading. He just gave an interesting input on one of my favourite stories.”

“Really,” Emily teased, carefully driving into the parking space next to the alley.

“Yeah, just talking about books,” Y/N said as she jumped out of the SUV, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The gloomy weather had thankfully stayed behind in D.C., leaving the team to soak up the lovely spring sun that shined overhead in them in Indianapolis.

“What was that about unrequited love then?” Emily continued to press on as they walked over to the group of policemen standing by the dumpsters.

“It’s the theme of the story,” Y/N grumbled before swiftly putting on a smile as a young man headed towards them.

“You must be with the BAU,” the man started as he held out his hand for the two of them to shake.

“Yes, agents Prentiss and Y/L/N,” Emily said as she shook his hand, “Are you the lead detective on the case?”

“Yes, detective Michaels,” he said as he lifted the yellow police tape for the three of them to step under.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N said softly smiling at him, while Emily softly laughed and shook her head to herself at the young agent when she saw Michaels already developing what the team had dubbed ‘Y/N eyes’.

One of the things that the team noticed when Y/N Y/L/N had joined the team was her extreme kindness. It challenged even Penelope’s something that they hadn’t thought was possible. When they all first had been introduced to each other Y/N had made sure to look at each individual team member like they were the sun, her attention focused solely on the profiler in question. On every case the team had worked Emily hadn’t once experienced Y/N kindly greet the detectives working on the case, and often gave them her sweet smile that made everyone melt in their spot – often resulting in them giving her ‘Y/N eyes’ the rest of the case.

Her kindness had especially seemed to do a trick on the resident genius of the BAU; a fact abundantly clear for all of the team members except for the two of them. While the remainder of the team never was rude or unkind to him, they never seemed to engage with him the same way she did. There was a willingness to hear him ramble on about the most obscure things, a gleam in both of their eyes when they would talk about their favourite books in hushed voices on the jet when they thought everyone else was asleep.

“How long had the leg been out here before it was found?” Emily asked, breaking the detective out of his gaze locked on Y/N.

“Uh,” he said as he started to fumble with the notepad as Emily and Y/N shared a quick smile as they survived the dumpsters littering the area. “The coroner says about 24 hours.”

“So he dumped it in the evening the previous day,” Y/N said as she glanced around the alley. “How many buildings have access to the alley?”

“Three, these two facing this street,” the detective said as he pointed to the street Emily and Y/N had come from, “and then the other one facing that one,” he said as he pointed down the alley to the street at the other end.

“There’s a good chance that he owns a van,” Y/N said as she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head as they got deeper into the alley where her vision wasn’t obscured by the sunlight. “He could back in, get out, take the limbs out from the back and discard them quickly before being on the move again. It would just look like a guy throwing out trash for anyone passing by at that hour.”

“You’re right,” Emily said as she walked back over to Michaels and Y/N. “He discards them like trash, no signs of remorse of any kind.”

“What does that mean?” Michaels asked as they walked out of the alley and on their way to the next dumpsite.

“That he hates women,” Emily and Y/N said in unison, as they continued their tread down the silent street.

“It would be a good idea to have your officers make a door to door on the surrounding buildings of the two dumpsites,” Y/N said as she and detective Michaels walked into the precinct.

“Why?” He asked while holding the door open for her.

She shot him a small grateful smile as they made their way to the conference room the team had made their office for the coming time. “There’s a chance that some of the residents saw or heard something without knowing its importance, so just have them ask if they remember seeing or hearing anything on the evening of the 15th.”

“Will do agent,” he smiled back at her, and held the door to the conference room open for her as well.

As they walked into the room, they saw the entire team sitting around it, all with their heads deep buried in their case files, or in Spencer’s case, a map, and a plethora of coffee cups covering the table.

“What did you get from the dump sites?” JJ asked when she lifted her head to take a generous sip of her coffee.

At the sound of JJ speaking the entire team turned their heads to see who had joined them in their small room.

Y/N smiled and moved to take a seat in the chair between Rossi and Spencer. “We think he might own a van; the alleys are big enough for a van to back in there and block the view from the street. Emily stayed back to interview a woman that said she remembered a loud noise that evening.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said without lifting his eyes from the case file. “He might work as a carpenter, if he has a van and that his preferred method of dismemberment is with a saw.”

“But wouldn’t that still be a huge number?” Morgan asked as he sat back in his chair while twirling a pen between his fingers. “In a city like Indianapolis the number of carpenters must be quite significant.”

“You’re right,” Rossi mumbled before pulling his phone out, before pressing the familiar buttons.

“The oracle of Quantico at your service sir,” the chipper voice of Penelope blasted through the speakers of the phone, making everyone around the table break out a small smile.

“Garcia, how many carpenters are there in the hunting zone of the unsub?” Rossi asked.

“Uh, quite a bit sir,” Penelope said as she typed her fingers off on her end. “Do you have any other parameters so I can narrow this down?”

“Based on victimology he would be in his late twenties to early thirties, white and would own a dark van.”

“I will do my best sir,” she said as adieu, before she hung up.

The team went back to looking over the case files after Hotch directed Michaels to start door-to-door, silence taking over the room as they all looked over the clues hidden in the papers.

“Guys,” Emily said when she hurried into the room half an hour later, “I talked to a woman who said that she heard a noise the night the unsub dumped Louise’s leg, and she said she saw a dark van just like Y/N theorized, and she said there was a logo on it. So, I called Garcia and she tracked down the carpenter firm to be ‘Better Builders’.”

“Okay,” Hotch said, going up the board before looking over the collected evidence. “Reid, Y/L/N could you go talk to the owner of the firm? Go see if there are any employees that match the profile.”

“Yes sir,” they both said in unison as they started getting up from their chairs.

Spencer held the door open for Y/N when they walked out of the room, shy smiles exchanged between them as they moved through the precinct. The sun was still shining bright when the two of them exited the station, silence stretching thin between them, leaving them trapped in the space of their own minds.

“Have you gotten something from the geographic profile?” Y/N asked to break the silence between them as Spencer turned on the car and started to drive away from the station.

“Huh?” Spencer asked, seemingly too lost in his own head to having registered that he had been asked a question.

“The geographical profile?” she asked softly, letting her eyes trail over his profile.

“Right,” he exclaimed softly, “and no, not really. Just uh, that he probably lives or works in the area between the two dumpsites, but unfortunately-”

“We won’t be able to be more specific until we have another victim,” Y/N finished for him, letting out a sigh before turning her gaze out of the windshield.

“Yeah,” Spencer said softly, letting them drive in silence for a while.

Y/N sat with her head leaning against the headrest as she saw the city of Indianapolis pass them by, visions of mutilated women flying through her mind. She thought that after a year of working at the BAU she would have developed a thicker skin, just like the rest of the team. But she was still feeling nauseous every time she saw women being brutally mutilated and felt her heart break and tears press on when a child fell victim to the horrible desires of adults.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly when he noticed how silent she had become on the drive.

“Yeah,” she mumbled back softly, mind still sifting through the awful images haunting her mind. “Just thinking about what kind of monster could do this to innocent women.”

“That’s the question that keeps us in business,” Spencer joked light-heartedly, trying to get rid of the tension inside of the SUV.

“You’re right,” she joked along, “as always.” She felt the corners of her lips twist upwards when he barked out a laugh. “And I guess,” she continued softly, “I’m just wondering when I will stop being so soft.”

“What do you mean?” he asked genuinely when they stopped at a red light, cars piling behind them.

“It’s just,” she tried to gather her thoughts to the best of her abilities, feeling the pressure of his gaze on the side of her face. “I’ve been with this team for almost a year, and I still feel sick on cases like this. I still sometimes cry in the bathroom,” she laughed, hoping to reduce the melancholy air in the car. “I wonder if I’ll ever develop thicker skin like the rest of you guys.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment too long for her liking, before Spencer cleared his throat.

“Y/N,” he started softly, gently starting to step on the gas again, “you don’t have to develop thicker skin. You don’t have to do anything. Your gentleness and kindness are great virtues, that makes you who you are. Your empathy and love for everyone around you makes you the wonderful person that you are, and I think that they make you such a good profiler,” he explained, never letting his eyes stray away from the road. “I think sometimes the rest of us become immune to the monstrosities that we see, but you, and Penelope,” he interjected quickly, making a burst out a small laugh while her eyes glazed over with tears, “reminds us what it’s like to be human. To just want to make the world beautiful for everyone else.”

She kept her eyes fixed on him as he spoke. His gentle eyes still fixated on the road before them, his hair curling delicately around his ears. His lips had formed a kind smile as he spoke, and his hands were gripping tightly on the steering wheel as he navigated through the foreign city.

“That’s very nice of you Spence,” she whispered softly, “thank you.”

“There’s no shame in being soft,” he continued while he drove around to find a parking spot. “It’s a gentle reminder that you’re human, that we’re all human. And I’m very happy that you are the way you are, and I wouldn’t want you to change yourself for anything.”

He parked the car and the two agents just sat in the car for a moment longer. Each one basking in the softness of the love filled moment, each pair cheeks flushed red and fingers tingling with amorous sparks.

“Can I hug you?” Y/N asked gently, breaking the delicate silence.

“Uh,” Spencer cleared his throat before nodding his head, “yeah, yeah you can.”

She slowly undid her seatbelt before cautiously moving over the centre console and let her arms wrap around his shoulders.

She felt his arms slowly but surely slither their way around her waist, before he let his head fall and rest in the crook of her neck. His hazel curls were tickling her soft cheek, emitting a small giggle from her from the joyous sensation. He started to giggle softly along with her, their laughs dancing together in the vast space of the SUV.

“Thank you for finishing my consultation,” she whispered into the fabric of his cardigan, letting the scratchiness bring her comfort. She felt him scrunch up the fabric of her cardigan, before he nodded against her shoulder.

“Of course,” he mumbled before starting to release her from his grip, “any time.”

“We should go out there,” she said when they had pulled away, dopey smiles painting both of their faces. “And find that monster.”

“Yeah,” he said and opened his side door, “let’s get him.”

“It turned out that there weren’t any carpenters working for ‘Better Builders’ that matched the preliminary profile, yet the owner of the firm could confirm that one of their vans had been stolen about two weeks prior to the first murder,” Spencer said as he and Y/N walked into the room where Hotch and Morgan was sitting.

“Did they report it?” asked Morgan with his hands resting on the back of his head as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, as she took a seat on one of the swirly chairs, “I asked Michaels if he could pull up the report to see if there are any leads.”

“Good,” Hotch said before the sound of his ringtone cut the conversation short, “what do you have Garcia.”

“Sir,” she started, the sound of her clicking on the keyboard clear through the mic, “I found something funky regarding the two victims. So at first I couldn’t find any connection between Louise and Emma, but then I did some sleuthing and I found out that in the days leading up to their deaths day had both gone on a date. Not so weird you probably say, I say it’s weird when the date is with the same person, and from the looks of it they both met him on a dating app.”

Silence took over the room as the four team members processed the information.

“Can you find out who the prince charming is, baby girl?” Derek asked as he leaned on closer to the phone.

“Oh, I’m already ten steps ahead of you sugar, and the prince charming is Sheldon Green, but here’s the kicker. It’s not Sheldon Green.”

The room was once again silent, the puzzle pieces laying spread all around them, refusing to be put together. The silence was broken when an officer came in and handed Spencer the case file on the stolen van.

“What do you mean Pen,” Y/N asked, confusion clear in her voice.

“I’ll tell you what I mean sweetums,” Penelope continued, the tapping stopping on her end of the call, “I did my thing and pulled up the profile from Louise’s phone and quickly matched the person on the profile to Mr. Green, but the actual Mr. Green has a very legit alibi for both times because the first time he was at his boyfriend’s parent’s house for family dinner and the second time he was at a work conference two towns over.”

“So someone has used Green’s identity to lure the victims onto a date?” Y/N asked, still confused.

“It would appear so. I have successfully hacked into the account, and I have tried to track down the phone the creep has used but have come up blank. He is using some weird firewall, incognito thing that I have trouble working my way around it but trust me I’m trying.”

“Okay,” Hotch mumbled, deep lost within his own head. “Can you see if he’s arranged any upcoming dates on the app?”

“I can’t see any based on the messages he has on this app, but sir he could be on a lot, there’s so many dating apps and websites out there, and I have no way of knowing if he uses Sheldon Green as an identity on those as well, or if he uses another one,” she said already back to tapping away. “And by the way, all the women he has matched with look very similar to both Louise and Emma, so he definitely has a type. They were just the unlucky ones,” she said with sadness seeping clearly through the speaker

“Keep taps on the Sheldon Green profile and let us know if he starts to talk to anyone on there.”

“Aye aye captain,” she said before hanging up, leaving the room in silence once more.

“Fucking creep,” Y/N mumbled before standing up and abruptly leaving the room, an uncomfortable chill running down her back. The precinct was buzzing with phone calls and voices trying to talk over each other. Y/N was quick to move in and out through the clutter of desks and officers milling around, before she finally got outside.

The sun had set, in its place the moon was shining bright over head of her, a few stars visible from the bright lights of the big city. There were cars zooming by; fathers desperate to make it home and kiss their babies goodnight, mothers tired from an evening of soccer matches, husbands buzzing with flowers in the front seat and wives crying searching for refuge at their friends’ houses.

All so blissfully unaware of the monsters hiding out in the night. A blessing she didn’t have anymore.

She let her back rest against the cinderblock wall behind her and let her eyes drift shut for just a moment, letting her pretend she wasn’t in the midst of hunting down a monster. Pretending that she was 19 again, somewhere, still like the rest. Still so wonderfully naïve.

“You okay?” a voice pulled her from her silent reveries, and she quickly opened her eyes to see JJ, Rossi and Emily before her, all three of them with concern in their eyes.

“Oh yeah,” she brushed their concern off with a swift, dismissive wave of her hand. “Just tired.”

“Well,” Rossi started, moving forward to get a good grip on one of her shoulders, “it’s been a long day, hopefully we can all head back to the hotel soon.”

“That would be great,” Emily said as she and Rossi opened the door to the station, leaving Y/N and JJ out in the open air.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” JJ asked, leaning against the wall as well, hands folded together in front of her.

Y/N let out a deep sigh before letting her eyes fall shut again. “Penelope discovered that he uses a guy’s identity to get them to go on dates with him via dating apps,” she started to explain. “And she has no way of knowing if he uses the same identity on other dating sites, so we basically don’t have any way of getting to him.”

“But we will,” JJ encouraged softly, her hand rubbing up and down Y/N’s shoulder softly, “just like we always do.”

“You’re right,” Y/N smiled gratefully, before quickly taking her phone out of her pocket and checking the time. “If you hurry, I bet you have enough time to call Henry and Will and read a bedtime story.”

They profilers shared a small laugh before JJ took her leave and moved inside, already pulling Will’s number up on her phone.

She let herself close her eyes for the third time, feeling how exhaustion was slowly making its home in all of her limbs.

“I brought you some tea,” a voice said gently, as if careful to not startle her too much.

She peeked one of her eyes open to see Spencer standing bashfully by her side, a paper cup filled with tea in one hand, and his worn, wool blazer in the other.

“They don’t have strawberry tea, so it’s just earl grey,” he said carefully as he carefully handed it over to her, making sure she didn’t spill any in the transfer.

“Thank you, Spence,” Y/N smiled sweetly, before giving the beverage a gentle blow before taking a sip.

“And uh,” he continued, looking down at his converse that seemed to try to bury themselves in the cement beneath them, “Emily said it was pretty chilly so I thought you might like a coat, and I know that you’ve said that yours isn’t very practical for chilly nights so I thought you might like mine, but it’s totally fine if you don’t, I just didn’t want you to be cold-“ he said, his mouth running 100 miles a minute, flustered cheeks blazing under the pale moonlight.

“Spencer,” she said, laying a careful hand on his forearm, “that’s very sweet of you. I would love to borrow your jacket if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” he was quick to exchange the jacket in his hand for the cup in hers so that she could put on the coat. He handed her back the cup silently, letting himself loose himself in the vision of her standing under a combination of streetlight and the gentle glow of the moon, all the while wearing his coat.

“Did you get anything from the police report?” she asked gently before moving to sit on the curb, he knees up to her chest and the cup resting on one of her kneecaps.

Spencer followed, looking apprehensively at the curb before joining her by her side, with his knees in the same position but his arms wrapped around his legs and his hands clapped together in front of his shins.

“There was a witness that had said that they saw a man lurking around the street for about an hour or so in the time frame of when the van was stolen,” he explained looking at her as she took sips of the tea while looking at the passing cars. “They gave a description, so we have turned that over to Garcia.”

“That’s good,” Y/N mumbled before taking another swig of her tea.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, scooting an inch closer to her on the dirty curb.

“Yeah,” she sighed, her eyes meeting his gentle ones, “this case is just hitting a bit close to home, I guess. No idea why though.”

“We all get those,” he said, letting his eyes rise up to look at the mighty moon.

“Thank you for bringing me a cup of tea Spence,” she mumbled, scooting an inch closer to him on the dirty curb.

“It helps you calm down,” he mumbled, eyes now no longer on the moon but rather at the shrinking space between their bodies.

“It does?” she asked, breath caught in her throat.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes flickering up to her face, “every time you drink tea you become calmer, and generally when you hold a warm cup, no matter the beverage, you pulse slows down.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said, letting her eyes flicker over his face.

Spencer just shrugged with a small smile before letting his eyes fly down to briefly take a glimpse at her lips before they went back to her eyes.

“Is that why you always bring me tea?” she inquired, letting her own eyes fly down to his lips, where his tongue is gently poking out.

“Yeah,” he laughed gently, subconsciously leaning into the heat that was radiating off of her.

She leaned into him as well, their noses barely brushing, their soft breaths mixing together, “that’s incredibly thoughtful.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat before he dared to speak, “it’s what you do for the people you care about.”

They both leaned in closer, their noses now brushing up against one another, lips only a breath away from touching, “it’s what you do for the people you lo-“

His words were caught short from the sound of the door to the station bursting open, resulting in them pulling away from the moment in time they had created together. The team came bustling out, all of them looking mere minutes away from collapsing on the pavement from exhaustion.

“Y/L/N, Reid we’re done for the night, we all need to get some rest,” Hotch said when he noticed the two young agents sitting together on the curb.

“Oh,” they both said, hurrying to stand up and brush away any dirt from their time on the ground.

“I need to go grab my satch-“ Spencer started to say, already moving towards the door, but Derek was quick to lift up the worn satchel that he was carrying in his hand.

“Nope,” he said, turning Reid around and directing him to one of the SUVs as Emily linked her arm through Y/N’s and led her to the other one holding a bit further down.

“Nice coat,” Emily mumbled into Y/N’s ear, laughing quietly when the young agent’s ears started to turn red.

“Shut up,” Y/N said, hiding her smile behind the paper cup of lukewarm tea, as she watched Spencer pile into the black after Derek, a small smile shared between them, only for them to know about.

Her boots were clicking against the floor of the station as she made the first stop of the day at the coffee station. A few officers and detectives were there at the early morning hour, and the team was already setting up in the conference room, bracing themselves for the day to come.

She poured four packs of sugar into a cup, quickly dozing it in the hot coffee stirring it as she started to walk through the room to get to the team.

The weight of a blazer was heavy on her arm and the heat from the coffee cup warmed her entire body in the early morning hour as she discreetly opened the door and moved to take a seat next to Spencer as Hotch was talking.

“We need to go over victimology again,” Hotch started, and the team started to list all of the facts of the two victims.

“Here,” Y/N whispered softly, sliding the paper cup over to Spencer.

He averted his eyes away from where Emily was talking about the unsub having had a relationship with a woman that bore a resemblance to the victims.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his eyes drifting over her still sleepy features.

She nodded down to the paper cup between them, steam flying up and dancing between them. “Don’t worry,” she smiled at him, still keeping her voice low, “I made sure to put loads of sugar in.”

He smiled softly down at the cup, before looking up at her again with his lips pressed tightly together in a smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled back, finally letting the conversation between the rest of the team get her attention.

Unlike Y/N, Spencer’s attention was now nowhere near the conversation about who knows what. All he could focus on was the warmth radiating from the cup between his slender fingers and from the person sitting next to him.

He could still perfectly see her face and her sleepy morning smile as he stared down in the coffee. He could feel a smile pull at the corners of his lips as he went over the sweet interaction multiple times in his head.

An elbow to the ribs from his other side was what brought him out of his daydreams, and he lifted his head to see the entire team staring him down.

“What?” he asked, taking a sip of the steaming brew.

“Have you come further with the geo profile?” Hotch asked from where he stood by the bulletin board.

“No,” Spencer said, sitting up straighter in his chair, “I’m waiting for Garcia to look into the night where the van was stolen.”

Hotch made a sound of approval before he started to give out orders for the team. Y/N and Emily were to go join the officers in the door to door rounds along with the local officers, Morgan and Reid would go and take a look at the crime scenes and visit the morgue to see if they had missed anything and JJ, Rossi and Hotch would stay put and look through the details again.

Spencer caught the eyes of Derek over the table as they all started to move around, a teasing glint in the older agent’s eyes and a mischievous smile on his lips.

Spencer furrowed his brows in question, which only deepened when Derek nodded to the coffee in Spencer’s hand. Derek simply shook his head and laughed silently to himself as he shared a quick glance with Emily, who was sitting on the other side of Spencer. She also simply just laughed and waited for Y/N to finish the conversation she was in the midst of with JJ.

Derek was quick to walk around the table, grab Spencer around the shoulders and direct him out of the stuffy conference room and out of the station.

“Now,” Derek said as they had made it halfway through the precinct, “is there a reason why Y/N brought you, and only you, a cup of coffee?”

“Uh,” Spencer fumbled over his words as he stopped in the midst of a step at Derek’s words. “What do you mean?”

Derek simply laughed as he took a stance in front of Spencer, efficiently blocking Spencer’s only escape route. “Now don’t get me wrong, Y/N is a very sweet girl, but in the year that she’s been on the team, she has never brought a coffee for just me, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course not,” Derek just laughed again, and nodded his head to a thing over Spencer’s shoulder. When Spencer turned his head to look, he was met with the sight of Y/N that was still talking to JJ. “Did anything happen between the two of you last night?” Derek tried to reiterate his question when Spencer turned his eyes back to his friends after a moment off blatantly staring at Y/N.

“No,” Spencer said, brows deeply furrowed.

“Are you sure?” Derek continued, “there was nothing going on between the two of you when we went home last night? When you were sitting on the curb?”

“Oh, that,” Spencer said, a red flush covering his cheeks and ears at the fact that the rest of the team had witnessed the intimate moment that he had thought had been strictly between the two of them.

“Yeah,” Derek laughed and clapped his hand down on Spencer’s shoulder as he started to guide the younger agent out of the doors.

“She was just feeling a bit out of it, so I brought her some tea,” Spencer started, his mind running faster than his mouth could compete with, “she calms down significantly when she drinks tea, or just generally has a warm beverage in her hands. Actually a study has shown-“ Spencer started to ramble on as they got out of the precinct, the early morning sun shining down on them.

But before he could distract Derek any further, a voice called out behind them, cutting Spencer short.

“Spence!” she called as she hurried out of the double doors, with Emily tailing behind her with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah?” Spencer said and both he and Derek turned towards the other two agents.

“I uhm,” she started, slightly fumbling over her words, anxiously glancing from Reid to Morgan, who was also standing with a big smirk on his face. “I forgot to give this back to you yesterday.”

She reached her arm out between them, offering him the battered blazer. Spencer looked down at it for a minute before slowly taking it into his hand that wasn’t holding the coffee, images of her wearing it the prior evening flying through his mind.

“Right,” Spencer said, nodding his head.

“And I just wanted to,” she trailed off, quickly looking at Derek before looking back at Spencer.

Derek seemed to get the hint, because he silently made his adieu and joined Emily, who was standing and waiting by the parked SUVs.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday,” she said, her voice light and feathery in the spring morning. “You were very sweet, and it made me feel a lot better.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” Spencer said, the blush returning to his face.

“Still,” she continues, taking a miniscule step towards him, “it meant a lot to me.”

“You’re my friend,” Spencer said softly, letting his eyes glide over her face, letting himself bask in the way the sun made her eyes gleam. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” she was quick to reply, sparing a quick look over to the two older agents that were watching them like hawks.

“I’m glad,” Spencer smiled down at her, tightening his grip on the blazer in his hands.

The spring wind was ruffling his hair around, making locks fall into his eyes. Before he could let a hand run through his curls, an unfamiliar hand beat him to it.

Her hand ran gently through his hair, making the curls fall back into the righteous place. She let the hand glide down to the side of his face, holding gently onto his soft cheek. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, she was throwing her arms around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. She pressed a quick kiss to the cheek she had previously been caressing, before she pulled away from his body, his arms still hanging rigidly by his sides.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, before hurrying over to Emily.

Spencer watched her walk away, eyes following her retreating form as she dragged Emily into one of the SUVs, flipping Derek the bird when he called out a comment after her that Spencer didn’t hear because of the ringing in his ears.

“Pretty boy,” Derek called out, a know-it-all look painted all over his face, as he watched the young agent standing baffled in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you sure nothing happened?”

Spencer could still feel the ghost of her arms around his neck, could still feel the pressure of her body against his and the softness of her lips against his cheek. His ears, that were a colour of red that challenged roses, were ringing, and his eyes were firmly locked in the place she had previously been.

“Reid!” Derek called out again, a loud laugh on the verge of spilling from his lips.

“Huh?” Spencer was finally pulled out from his reveries, making him acutely aware of the fact that Derek and Emily, and potentially many others, had witnessed the small moment between the two of them.

“Nothing happened between the two of you huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer mumbled as he quickly walked over to the car, hopelessly hoping for a silent car ride, his mind already drifting back to just a moment before.

The room was cold.

She could feel her colleagues’ eyes on her from behind the one-way mirror behind her as she leaned back in her chair.

Her heels were clicking on the floor as she tapped her foot as she kept a firm gaze on the man in front of her.

Emily was sitting beside her, flipping through a folder as she was repeating the rights to the person in front of the two of them.

“Do you understand?” she finished, and her eyes joined Y/N’s and looked at the man on the other side of the table.

The silence stretched across the room, the only sound being Y/N’s heels and Emily’s ruffling through the file.

“Do you understand your rights?” Y/N repeated, brows furrowing as she stared down the man.

He continued to stay silent, his gaze locked on where his hands were cuffed to the table. His dirty-blonde hair was a mess and the glasses on his face were slightly broken from the run-in he had had with Morgan.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Emily sighed and let the folder drop down onto the table surface.

“So, Elliott, do you know Louise Obsen?” Y/N asked, her hands folding together in her lap.

He continued to stay silent, eyes never drifting away from their safe spot as the two agents continued to stare him down.

His baby blue button-down was wrinkled and the more Y/N continued to observe him the more she thought about how un-special he was. Nothing about him was noteworthy and she wouldn’t give him a second glance if he were to pass her in the street.

A murderer hiding in plain sight.

“What about Emma Day?” Emily took over and leaned across the table to get closer to him. She slid two pictures across the table to him; the faces of the two young, beautiful women staring back at him from where he cowered within himself.

“Nothing?” Y/N asked and stood up to get rid of the restlessness that was starting to sink into her bones and started to walk around the room slowly.

“Never heard of them before,” he finally grumbled but his eyes remained downcast.

Emily and Y/N’s eyes met from across the room, both pairs of eyebrows lifting in disbelief.

“Oh really?” Emily prodded.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, and Y/N moved to stand behind him and glanced over his shoulder at the two pictures.

“That’s a shame huh,” Y/N said with her arms crossed across her chest, “they’re two very beautiful women.”

“Oh yeah,” Emily agreed as she leaned back in her chair.

“Actually,” Y/N said as if the thought had just hit her, “they kind of look like you Em.”

“Yeah,” Emily laughed a bit, “they kind of do.”

They waited for Elliott to react. From where Y/N was standing she could see the tenseness in his shoulders. His leg was bouncing up and down with a rapid pace and she was sure she could see a small bead of sweat trail down his temple.

Y/N glanced up at the one-way mirror that was behind Emily and could almost feel Spencer’s eyes catching her from the other side.

“But it doesn’t really surprise me,” Y/N continued and moved from her place behind him to lean up against the chair that she had previously been sitting on, “that you don’t know them I mean.”

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly, taking the bait just like she had hoped.

“Oh, you know,” she sighed, lifting her head up to glance at the ceiling quickly before letting them fall back to the man in front of her. “Why would two young, beautiful women know you? You’re just an engineer at a random tech company.”

“You’re right Y/N,” Emily continued and looked up at her colleague.

“Like, would you pay him any mind Emily? If he came up to you in a bar or something?”

“No,” Emily laughed loudly and glanced at the man that was slowly starting to simmer in his own anger.

“Not even entertain him for the fun of it?” Y/N continued, knowingly rubbing salt in the newly created wound.

“I have standards Y/N,” she played along, her eyes also locked on the man.

“That’s a shame,” Y/N said as she moved to sit down again, “I think you’re his type.”

From across the table the two agents could see the way he was gritting his teeth together and how his hands were wringing together in anger.

“I bet you would love nothing more than to take agent Prentiss home,” she continued slowly leaning across the table to get into his personal space. “Lure her with the promise of a good time.”

“And, when I would turn him down,” Emily started to participate and mirrored Y/N’s pose, “he would spend the rest of the night watching from afar.”

Elliott finally lifted his gaze and was met with two agents fake smiling at him from the other side of the table.

“He would wait until you were alone,” Y/N continued, making sure to maintain the eye contact that she’d finally established.

“But he wouldn’t have the guts to confront me,” Emily drawled on, fiddling with the many papers in the file.

“So he would attack you from behind,” Y/N took over, “like a coward”

“And he would put me in a car,” Emily said as she pulled out a photo of the ‘Better Builders’ van, “one that wouldn’t be able to be connected to him, because despite being a coward, he isn’t stupid.”

“Then he would take you somewhere isolated,” the other agent mumbled, letting her hands run through her hair. “Like a cabin or something.”

“Something like this?” Emily asked and pulled out another photo, this one of an isolated cabin they had been able to connect with Elliott.

“Yeah, exactly,” Y/N laughed and pushed the picture towards him. “Do you recognize this place, Elliott?”

“No,” he grumbled, eyes refusing to look at the pictures in front of him.

“Are you sure?” Emily asked, “because that cabin belonged to your father, and from what we have been able to find, said cabin now belongs to you.”

He just shook his head as Emily talked, eyes burning holes in the table beneath his hands.

“So he would take you somewhere isolated,” Y/N tried to get the conversation back on the prior path, “somewhere no one would hear you scream.”

“And then he would play around, terrorising me for God knows how long,” any kind of playfulness or teasing had left Emily’s voice and a sadness and anger had taken their place.

“And then, to finish it off,” Y/N said, her voice low and sad, “he would shoot you in the back of the head.”

“But he knows a body is too difficult to get rid of and even though the cabin is isolated the body would be found if he were to just dump it,” Emily continued, hard eyes looking at the suspect.

“So he would have to cut you up,” Y/N mumbled, “and discard the limbs and only hope that they won’t be found.”

Silence stretched across the room again. The two agents staring down the man before them. The man, who was shaking and whose face had become beat red.

“See Elliott,” Emily said, starting to collect the pictures that were laid out on the table before them, “that’s what we think you did to Louise Obsen and Emma Day.”

“And when we get a search warrant for your cabin, which is in the process, we will find something in there that confirms that you did this.” Y/N said moving to lean back in her chair. “A hair, a piece of a nail or a little drop of blood that confirms that you killed two innocent women.”

“And when that happens,” Emily continued, “you will get locked away for a long time. And trust me,” she paused and leaned in closer to him, “you won’t survive long in a federal prison.”

“But,” Y/N drawled out, “if you cooperate we could do something for you.”

He continued to stay quiet, eyes still not looking at them.

“Well,” Emily sighed and moved to stand up, Y/N following suit, “suit yourself.”

The two agents moved to walk out of the interrogation room, before a voice stopped them.

“I’ll tell you,” he said slowly, causing them to turn around and look back at him staring at the two of them. “But only you,” he stared at Emily with intent.

Y/N glanced at her co-worker and was met with a confident nod as she moved to take a seat once again.

Y/N looked back at the pair one final time before leaving the room to watch from behind the glass.

Once she stepped out into the hallway she was met with Rossi and Spencer shifting their gazes from the interrogation room to her as she closed the door behind her.

“Good work kiddo,” Rossi said, walking away from the glass and clapping her gently on the shoulder before moving past her, probably to find Hotch and inform him of Elliot being willing to cooperate.

“Thank you, sir,” Y/N mumbled as she watched him walk back into the hectic precinct.

“You did really well,” Spencer said as she moved to stand beside him and watch Elliott talk with Emily.

“Thanks Spence,” Y/N said, looking up at him as he looked down at her at the same time.

They stood there for a while, just listening to the confession that was pouring out of Elliott. From where she stood beside him Y/N could feel the heat radiating from Spencer. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his dark purple tie matched the light purple shirt perfectly.

Y/N shifted her eyes back to the interrogation but could still feel his eyes on the side of her face. As they stood side by side Y/N could feel a soft motion of a finger slowly moving across the back of her hand.

As she glanced down, she saw Spencer’s pinkie moving slowly across the plain of the back of her hand; she could feel the heat slowly spread across her face.

She slowly manoeuvred her hand around so she could rub her finger against his as well, before a loud voice forced their hands apart.

“Y/L/N,” Derek called from behind them, walking across the precinct and the two other agents turned around to see him approach them. “Rossi said that you got him to cooperate.”

“Yeah,” Y/N coughed as she cleared her throat and moved to fold her arms across her chest to try to delete the prior moment from Derek’s mind.

“How’d you do it?” he said as he moved closer to the pair and stood between Y/N and Spencer as he spied into the room with a knowing grin on his face.

“We just tried to get under his skin,” Y/N explained as she looked back into the interrogation room again and saw Emily scribbling down notes as Elliott spoke. “Showed him how much of a coward he is.”

Derek laughed and laid an arm around her shoulders and gave her arm an affectionate clap.

“Well, at least this one went pretty smoothly.”

Both Spencer and Y/N hummed their agreement, two pairs of cheeks burning from an erased moment in time.

“Garcia said that you were hungry,” Spencer said, making Y/N’s attention divert from the case file in front of her to the genius standing with a paper towel in his hand, “so I thought you would like this.”

He gently placed the paper towel on her desk, making sure that it didn’t land on one of the many files that were scattered on the desk. The paper unfolded and inside was a pear, cut up in four pieces, just waiting to be eaten.

All the while she gathered the pieces of fruit and tugged the paper towel closer to her, Spencer was standing, more like hovering over her, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. His hands were tangled together in front of his body, eyes following her every move as she started to munch on the cut-up fruit.

“Thank you, Spence,” she said, half a piece of pear already in her mouth, “this is just what I needed.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a big smile on his face, before he gathered a case file from his desk and bounced up the stairs to Hotch’s office.

“He’s never brought me a pear,” a voice pulled Y/N’s attention away from the now closed door, a smile ever so present on her lips as she slowly chewed on the piece of fruit.

“What?” Y/N asked, confused, turning to see Derek and Emily sitting with shit eating grins on their faces.

“Pretty boy,” Derek elaborated gesturing to Hotch’s office, “in the many years I’ve known him, he has never brought me a sliced-up pear.”

“Me neither,” Emily said as she twirled around in her chair.

“Well,” Y/N started to say, very much confused at where the direction of this conversation was going, “maybe he doesn’t know that you guys like pears.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” Derek laughed, throwing the pen he had been playing with in his hand down on his desk.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked unconsciously, reaching for another piece hidden in the paper towel.

“What are we discussing?” Penelope broke into the conversation, a happy smile on her pink painted lips.

“Nothing,” Y/N was quick to say as she turned her chair back to face her desk, in hopes of ending the conversation before it even began.

“Pretty Ricky had heard from you that dear Y/N was hungry, so he cut up a pear for her,” Derek said, and even with her back to them she could practically hear the smiles on all of their faces.

“I haven’t talked to Reid all day,” Penelope said, happiness practically radiating off of her by the news.

“You haven’t?” At this revelation Y/N was quick to turn her chair around, confusion clear on her face.

“No,” she dragged out the word, letting a giggle slip out at the end.

“Then why would he say that?” Y/N asked as she chewed on another piece, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Because,” Emily dragged out as she got up and moved to sit on Y/N’s desk, “he needs a middleman.”

“A middleman?” Y/N asked, even more confused.

“Someone to make it seem like he wasn’t noticing that you were hungry based on your behaviour,” Derek explained, sliding his chair closer to Y/N’s desk.

“He’s a profiler,” Y/N mumbled to the rest, “if my behaviour was showing that I was hungry, why would he be embarrassed to just give me something to eat. We’re friends.”

“Actually,” Penelope piped up, finally seeing it as her time to make an input into the conversation, “giving snacks to someone is something many consider a love language.”

Y/N choked on the last piece of pear in her throat and turned around to cough down into the paper towel that was still laying on her desk. Emily laughed as she clapped her between the shoulder blades.

“Guys!” she exclaimed once she had gotten everything under control again, “he just gave me a pear. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Emily sighed as she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears as she looked down at the younger, oblivious agent. “I remember a guy saying that once the pear was an allegory for the heart.”

Silence took its place between the four agents. Three of them with giant smiles on their faces as the fourth was simply staring out in space, trying to solve a puzzle that she didn’t even know existed. Her ears were ringing from the realisation, cheeks heating under the scrutiny from the three others as her mind slowly started to fill to the brim of all of her shared moments with Spencer.

“You think he likes me?” she asked quietly, only daring to let her eyes fall on Penelope, whose face was almost splitting in half from the giant smile on her face.

“Oh, I think ‘like’,” Penelope said as she brought her hands up and made citation quotes around the word, “is an understatement.”

“He said,” Y/N started, keeping her eyes locked with Penelope’s as she started to fiddle with her hands that were resting in her lap, “He said that he knows what it’s like to love something that’s out of reach.”

The group fell silent as they took in the revelation, the three of them waiting for Y/N to continue. “Do you think he was talking about me?”

“Duh!” Penelope practically yelled, which gained the attention of the agents dutifully working around the quartet. “That boy has been in love with you since you first joined the team. And I may not be a profiler,” she continued making her way over to stand next to the chair Y/N was sitting on, “but I think that his feelings are reciprocated.”

Before Y/N had the chance to say anything, the sound of a door slamming shut brought them all out of the small moment they had created between themselves. As she looked up to the landing, she saw Spencer walking down the stairs again.

“What’s going on?” he asked curiously, letting his eyes flicker from Derek’s smirk, to Penelope’s sparkling eyes, to Emily’s suppressed grin and finally to Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Oh nothing,” Penelope was quick to say, “just talking about the upcoming weekend.”

“Oh,” Spencer said as he took a seat in his chair, and let the folder he had with him drop to the desk, “do you have any special plans Garcia?”

“Uh,” she sputtered, clearly not ready to talk herself out of her lie, “yes, I’m going to go antique shopping with Emily.”

“We are?” Emily was quick to but in, disdain clear in her voice from the mere thought of going antiquing.

“Yes! Remember we talked about it a while ago,” Penelope mumbled before dramatically gesturing to the watch hanging on the wall, “would you look at that, I have to go back to my office to do,” she dragged out the words, as the four profilers looked at her with amusement on their faces, “to do hacking things. Bye!”

And before they knew she had hurried out of their eyesight, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she moved as fast as her heels allowed her to.

“Weird,” Spencer said, sharing a quick smile with Y/N before they all went back to their work. Or, three of them went back to their work.

Y/N spend the rest of her afternoon sifting through every interaction she had ever had with the young doctor, from the moment they had met in this very bullpen, to the first time she had made him laugh over a joke, to the time she had successfully dragged him out to celebrate a successful case with the rest of the team. In the small year they had known each other they had created so many small moments together, so many fond memories that lived in her heart.

And at some point, in the small year, Spencer had managed to worm himself into a part of her heart that she herself didn’t even know existed. Sparks flew out of her finger tips every time they gently touched him. Her heart started to beat faster every time he would smile at her or she would hear his joyous laughter. She started to get lost in the depth of his warm eyes every time they made eye contact, drowning in a sea of honey that she refused to get saved from.

And, unknown to her, she had made herself a home in Spencer’s heart. Her gentle touch seemed to light a fire in him, making him burn to the bone every time her delicate fingers grazed his skin. His smile had become more frequent, and his laughter more boisterous ever since she had joined the team; her mere presence lightening up any gloomy day.

So, there they sat the rest of the sunny afternoon; a boy and a girl so oblivious about the love that flowed so effortlessly between them. She could still taste the lingering taste of the fruit, and she swore her heart fluttered in her chest every time. He could still see the joyful look she had given him when he had handed her the folded-up paper towel, and his heart sang every time it flowed through his mind.

And without either of them noticing, the sunny day ticked by minute for minute. The bullpen had started to empty out for the day, leaving them some of the few agents left.

She could still hear Derek and Emily typing away on their monitors and have occasional chit chat, and out of the corner of her eye she could still see Hotch and Rossi in their respective offices.

As she was finishing up one of her last files, she noticed how Spencer slowly started to pack up for the day.

After a year she had learned his routine for when he would start to head home. Firstly, he would turn off his computer, secondly, he would stack all of his files into a neat pile, ready for when he came in tomorrow, thirdly he would start to pack his bag, double checking he had everything, before finally rising from his chair, putting on his coat and saying goodbye to those who stayed longer than him.

He was in the midst of the fourth step, coat being ready to be put on when they made eye contact over the divider between their desks.

He slowed his actions, taking his time to adjust the lapels on his jacket and picking up his satchel. It was as if everything that had been left unsaid by the two exploded in that moment. All of the gentle touches and the burning fires. All of the loud laughter and the timid smiles. A year worth of love combined into just a five second glance.

“Have a good night,” she said softly, eyes firmly locked with his.

“You too,” he said as he slowly walked by her desk, “see you tomorrow.”

She smiled at him, feeling all of the air leave her lungs when he smiled back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow as well genius,” Morgan called after him loudly, making Spencer walk faster out of the bullpen, and even from where Y/N was sitting, she could see the tips of his ears turn red.

“Y/N,” Emily said firmly when Spencer was out of ear shot.

“Emily,” Y/N said back, refusing to give the two cocky agents what they wanted from her.

“Go after that boy,” she said, walking over and hovering over her with her hands on her hips.

“What?” Y/N asked, still looking down at the paperwork in front of her.

“Are you kidding me? I just saw the two of you practically declaring your love for each other with just one look! And for some reason, you refuse to accept the fact that you two are in love with each other,” she said, one of her hands coming down on the younger agent’s shoulder. “Look, okay, I’m no expert at love or anything, but what the two of you have is something special. And I get it, okay. Love is scary, and with our job we see how easily our loved ones can be torn away from us, so I get it more than anyone that it’s scary to succumb to it. But, and this is just my opinion, it would be foolish to let a love like the one the two of you have go to waste.”

After her monologue Emily made her way back over to her own desk, eyes locked with Morgan, desperate to get him to help him. But before he got the chance, Y/N spoke up timidly.

“If I don’t come back will you finish my paperwork?”

“Yes,” both Emily and Derek said without hesitation, smiles spreading wider and wider when they saw the girl hurrying to grab her back and coat before quickly walking out of the office.

“Fucking finally,” Derek mumbled, letting his eyes follow the young agent out of the double glass doors.

Y/N stood by the elevator, repeatedly pressing the button in hopes of making the machine work any faster. When the doors finally opened, she was greeted by an out of breath Spencer, who looked like he had just run across the parking lot.

“Hi,” he mumbled softly, slowly stepping out of the box as she took a few steps back.

“Hi,” she said, “did you forget something?”

A moment of silence hung between them, both unsure of how to approach the inevitable conversation.

“I-“ he cleared his throat into his fist before continuing, “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling the burning stare of two pairs of eyes on her back.

“I,” he started, his hands hidden in his coat pockets and shoes shuffling around nervously on the floor, but she was quick to interrupt him before he could go on.

“Emily just reminded me of something,” she said, her voice small but confident. “Someone once told me that the pear was an allegory for the heart.”

At her words Spencer’s eyes widened the slightest, and a pretty blush started to paint over his cheekbones.

“That someone would be correct,” his voice was low but clear, intending to keep the conversation strictly between them.

“And you gave me a pear,” she continued, her hands wringing together in front of her. “And someone would say that means that you, in some way, gave me your heart.”

They both stared at each other, oblivious to the gathering that was happening in the bullpen behind them. Emily and Derek had now been joined by Penelope and JJ, all eyes set on the two of them, and even from their distance they could feel the tension between the two almost lovers.

“That’s one way to understand it,” he said, taking a miniscule step closer to her.

“Is it the right way?” she asked, mimicking him and tipping a millimetre closer.

“I think,” he started, letting his hands come up from his coat pockets and let them slowly intertwine with hers. “I think that I gave my heart to you a long time ago.”

“Really?” she moved closer towards him, letting her fingertips spark at the feeling of his gentle touch.

“Yeah,” he nodded, curls falling into his gentle eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispered, squeezing his hands before removing them from his when he nodded his head nervously.

She let them slide up his arms before they found their place on his jaw, soft skin meeting her cold fingers. His arms found their purpose around her soft waist, giving him the opportunity to pull her in closer. She let her eyes roam his face for a second, before she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. His nose was cold against hers, his lips chapped from the colder weather, but none of it mattered. They stood no comparison to the way his hands were grasping at her waist, or the way she could feel a smile on his lips against hers.

They pulled apart slowly, both of their eyes still closed, both of them just existing in the moment they had created between them.

“I gave you my heart a long time ago too,” she whispered to him, letting her arms wrap around his neck and gave him a tight hug. “But I will be happy to give you a pear as well.”

He laughed at her comment, before he pulled her into another kiss, letting himself taste the sweet taste of pear that lingered on her lips.

“Pears cannot ripen alone. So we ripened together” - Meridel Le Sueur

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

186 notes · View notes

goldencherryhazz · 3 years

Text

Work from home

A/N: first smut piece, let me know your thoughts, pls don’t copy my work, feedback and notes would be much appreciated!probably some mistakes 🤍

daddy!harry x sub!reader

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, oral, spanking, fluff. Pure filth basically.

WC: 3k

Harry hated leaving y/n, just so that he could endure countless meetings on zoom with his team, producers and whatnot when he could be spending time with his girl, after having to spending so long away from each other whilst he was on tour, but he knew it had to be done due to the ongoing pandemic, and the world basically coming to a halt. He loved his job and his fans, so he was going to do anything he could remotely, to try and bring some normalcy to this whirlwind.

Now Harry was a hard working man, and once he was in the zone, he didn’t liked to be interrupted until he was finished. He had left a kiss to her head when he left to go to his office a mere 2 hours ago which made her stir from her slumber. She wanted more, and had fallen back to sleep with the thought of being stuffed with his cock, leaving her to wake up again with the feeling of emptiness and need.

She tried to snap out of it, but doing that didn’t stop her from falling into subspace, she genuinely tried to get herself off, to satisfy herself, she started by lifting he shirt up, hissing as the chilly air came into contact with her nipples, hardening them, she pinched each one, twiddling them between her forefinger and thumb, before venturing lower down her stomach, tracing her hands over it until she touched the band of her sleep shorts, she wasted no time it taking them off and flinging them over the side of the bed, she then touched over her damp pussy, starting to rub light circles onto her clit, getting even wetter at the thought of Harry teasing her little cunt then fucking her into oblivion, she then teased two fingers over her entrance before pushing them in and curving them so that they hit her sweet spot, pushing them in and out, but getting no closer to cumming, she eventually gave up after about 5 minutes, and then made a decision, which led her to where she is now...

Stood outside Harry’s office, clad in one of her best sets of lingerie, that she knew Harry loved, as a lure to try and convince him, she took in a nervous breath, she hoped that he wouldn’t decline her, she couldn’t wait any longer. Y/n was willing to do anything in order to be able to have Harry make her cum, she just wanted the tingling sensation in he clit to be dealt with.

She knocked twice, opening the door as soon as she heard a gruff ‘come in` , she took two steps into the room, shutting the door behind her, before waiting patiently for Harry to stop typing and look up at her.

‘What the fuck are you wearing darling` he uttered already knowing the already obvious answer.

She took in the way he looked her up and down, almost hungrily, he was trying not to just give in to her which was quite impossible most of the time, he could feel his cock stirring in the loose fabric of his sweats, but he knew that she knew that he didn’t like to be disturbed whilst he was working, if she wanted him that badly, he was going to make her work for it.

‘Really need you daddy' she said without hesitation.

‘Aww baby, you feeling subby today` he cooed.

‘Yeah, tried to make myself cum, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same as you, my clits tingling daddy’

‘Well unfortunately for you daddy’s working, how bad do you need me baby, tell me’ he questioned, resting his head on the palm of his hand.

‘Need you to fuck me daddy, need to feel you inside me, I want you to choke me, be a little rough with me, I’m just feeling really empty` she choked out, her eyes glazing over in frustration.

The sudden sound of an incoming zoom call made its way through the room, he looked at her dead in the eyes ‘I’ve got an idea baby, how about you get yourself off on the corner of my desk, you’ve got to be quiet though, don’t want anyone to knowing what my naughty girls doing, and no cumming, you understand baby?’

‘Yes daddy` she said, walking over to his desk, her knees slightly weak.

He answered the call, greeted his team, trying not to get distracted by y/n as she hovered over the corner of his desk, before bending her knees slightly, her clothed clit coming into contact with the cold surface of the wood, making her hiss quietly, she braced both of her hands on the desk, before starting to slide her pussy back and forth, creating a delicious friction that she couldn’t get enough of.

Harry managed to focus on the meeting for the majority of it, flicking his eyes back to her every so often, watching as she traced he dainty fingers over her bare tummy, toying with her breast, he could feel himself getting harder and harder under his desk, to the point where he could feel his cock throbbing, y/n had managed to get through the call without making too much noise, only received a few warning glares when she moaned a little to loudly when she could feel herself on the brink of a release, knowing that she couldn’t cum, it was torture basically, the mixture of friction, Harry’s voice and knowing that he would probably he rock hard by now, but she knew that it would be worth it if she kept it up for a bit longer.

A little while later Harry was uttering goodbye’s to his team, sighing in relief as he practically slammed his computer shut, y/n was lost in pleasure , soo much that she hadn’t taken any notice that Harry had finished his call. He palmed himself to try and releave some of the building pressure in his cock, he knew that he would give into her eventually, but he was going to mess with her a little more before that.

‘Baby, come over here` she obeying like a little puppy, instantly walking towards him, becoming giddy at the thought that she might finally be getting what she wanted, more like needed.

Harry patted his thighs, signaling for her to straddle him, he could see that her panties were practically soaked through as she sat directly on his cock, making him hiss, she placed her hands on his shoulders, before Harry placed his hand on the back of her head, bringing her in for a hungry kiss, teeth clashing, thier tongues dancing with each other, the desperation making them both impossibly hornier.

Harry broke away from this kiss first, both of them gasping for air, she ran her thumb over the smooth skin of his jawline, his ringless fingers grasping at her hips.

‘Are you going to fuck me now daddy` she says out of the blue, really wanting the ache in her pussy to be dealt with.

Oh darling, didn’t think I forgot that you interrupted me whilst I was working did you, moaning whilst I was talking to my team, my friends, they could have heard you, ya know, you know daddy doesn’t like to share, dont you baby, think I need to teach you a lesson first.’

‘But I was a good girl daddy` she whimpered

‘Yes you were, still doesn’t excuse you from interrupting me though.’

She huffed ‘no baby, don’t get all huffy and puffy with me, you decided to walk into my office in your bra and panties whilst I was working, could’ve waited you know, and if you did I would be fucking you right now, but we’re here, so baby, how about you get my rings out and put them on for me, think someone deserves a spanking.

She slowly turned in his lap, reaching into the second draw in his desk to retrieve his rings, shakily placing them on thier own designated finger.

‘How many spanks do you think you should get today doll’

‘4’ she said hopefully.

‘Only four baby, best make it five then, an extra one for good look, ey.’

She rolled her eyes which Harry caught, ‘I can make it 6 if you want baby` he said gripping her chin lightly.

‘No, I’m sorry daddy’ she whimpered

‘You better be, you’re lucky that I’m even considering letting you have my cock today’

Y/n knew she had to tred carefully now, so she stood up and faced away from him, before bending over his desk, bracing herself, and willing to take whatever Harry had to offer. She secretly loved when Harry spanked her, the feeling of his hand crashing down onto her ass, his cold rings making little indents on her skin, the dominance he had over her as he marked her, she loved it and Harry did too.

Harry had stood up at this point ‘are you ready doll, want you to count each one for me.

‘Okay dad-fuck, daddy’ she squealed in surprise as his hand came crashing down, the sound of the slap reverberating through the room, his hand running over the supple flesh.

‘One’ she whimpered

*slap*

‘Two’

*slap*

‘Three’

‘Doing so good baby, only a couple more’ he smirked loving the control he had over her.

*slap*

‘Four’

*slap*

‘Five’ she cried, small tears in her eyes from the intensity, Harry marvelled over his work, as he could see what looked like two red handprints over both her ass cheeks, he smoothed over the skin lightly not wanting to cause her any more pain.

‘You okay baby’ he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t actually hurt her, they had already made a safe word, but he would never forgive himself if he hurt his girl.

‘Yeah, I’m okay daddy’ she sniffled slightly.

‘Think you deserve my cock now baby, took that soo well, such a good little slut for daddy aren’t you, went through all of that, just so you could get my cock.’

‘Oh I’d do anything for your cock daddy’ she says making him go wild, he instantly gripped her shoulder, making her stand up straight, before turning he around to bring her in for another heated kiss. ‘Jump’ he muttered between kisses, to which she obliged, wrapping her legs round his waist and her arms rounds his neck, practically like a koala bear.

He slowly back up to the desk again carefully laying her down not breaking the kiss, y/n being quiet relieved as the cool wood soothed her sore ass, Harry pressed himself into her, wanting to feel every inch of her body, she could also feel his hard cock dig into the side of her thigh.

She starts tugging at the end of his t-shirt, hinting for him to take his clothes off in which he happily obeyed, he had opted for no boxers today making the process even quicker, she saw the way his thick length sprang into his bare belly once he had taken his t-shirt and sweats off, throwing them not caring where they landed, the sight made her mouth water, she could see the large head of his cock was a shade of angry red leaking pre-cum, and the large protruding purple vein on the underside of his cock, which she couldn’t wait to feel against her walls.

Harry then wastes no time in ripping her underwear off of her, her juices now coating the inside of her thighs, she looked delicious and Harry could resist having a taste, so he dipped his head down, holding her legs apart, licking a large stripe through her folds which made her buck her hips up into his mouth.

‘Holy fuck’ she moaned, her clit being a little sensitive, but she honestly didn’t care right now.

He continued swirling his tounge around her pussy, dipping into he weepy hole occasionally, making her squirm in his grip, he couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste, he could stay between her legs all day if he could.

‘Feels so good daddy, but I really want your cock’ she whimpered.

‘Yeah, you want my cock baby, you can have my cock’ he finishes with a kiss to her clit, before trailing sloppy kisses up her belly towards the valley of her breasts, reaching one hand beneath her to unhook her bra, in which she arched he back slightly, helping him remove the lacy fabric, once she was completely bare beneath him, he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tounge around the pebbled nub, doing the same to the other. He eventually made his way back to her lips, after leaving multiple hickeys on her collar bones and neck, marking her as his ‘you’re so beautiful darling’

He put his hand on either side of her head, her hands roaming over his beautifully inked arms, tracing over certain tattoos, making a shiver run up his spine, loving the gentleness of her fingers, ‘m’gonna fuck you now baby’ he says lining his cock up with her entrance ‘please, daddy’ she begs, he finally slips into her in one long thrust, making her arch her back and her eyes roll into the back of her head ‘Daddy Fuck..holy shit, you’re so big’ she cried feeling her walls stretch around his cock.

Harry also a groaning mess ‘so tight for me, s’like you were made for me’

He regains his composure before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting sharply into her cunt, starting to set a steady rhythm ‘not gonna last long doll’, her legs wrap around his waist, wanted him to be as close as possible, her hands find home on his back, her grip starting to make tiny red scratches, which he would later be reminded of when he took a shower.

Harry was now fucking her hard and deep, hitting her sweet spot with every thrust, the only sound in the room was skin hitting skin, the squelching sound of he pussy as he fucked her, breathy moans, and the occasional ‘daddy fuck yes’. He felt like he could burst with how good he felt, her warm, wet walls completely engulfing him, ‘who does this cunt belong to pet.’

‘You daddy, it’s all yours’ she breathes out, making him moan into her mouth as he kissed her plushy lips, her stomach flipping at the admittance.

‘Fuck baby gonna make me cum, you close, want you to cum with me’ she threw her head back at a particularly deep thrust, the pleasure becoming overwhelming ‘no baby’ he said gripping her chin, making her look at him again ‘want you to look at me when you fall apart, can you don’t that for me’

‘Yes daddy, m’so close, I’m gonna cum round your cock, so hard’ she whimpered

‘Oh baby, fuck’ her words making hit topple over the edge, his thrusts turning sloppy, ‘I’m cumming, cum with me pet. At this command her limbs turned limp, her head spinning, toes curling, screaming ‘daddy’ like it was the only word she knew, she didn’t think she had cum that hard in her life, Harry painting her walls, his release starting to leak out of her weepy hole, he eventually collapsed on top of her, still maintaining eye contact with her, trying to hold his weight up with his hand, so that he wouldn’t squash her. Harry hadn’t stopped thrusting into her to merely ride out thier highs, basking in both of thier releases, her cunt fluttering round his cock, milking it dry, he rested his head on hers, kissing her softly.

She tried pushing him away after a while when here muscles started spasming, in which he instantly stilled inside her, not wanting her to black out or anything. ‘You good baby, did soo well for me’

‘Don’t think I’ve cum that hard in my life’ she whispered hoarsely, her voice sore from screaming.

‘came hard too baby, can’t get enough of your cunt, m’gonna pull out now, hold my hand might sting a little’

She gripped into his hand, he slowly slipped out of her making her whimper at the loss of contact, starting on feel his cum drip down her thighs, Harry groaning at the sight, ‘looks so pretty with my cum dripping out of you’ he said leaving a soft kiss to her clit ‘can you stand baby’

‘cant feel my legs H’ she smirked knowing that this was fuelling his ego, a lazy smile spreading over her face, slowly starting to slip out of her subspace

He chuckled with her, ‘well I was thinkin’, how about we get cleaned up and take a nice hot bath, and then we can put a film on and cuddle.’

‘Mhmmm’ she hummed ‘that’s sounds perfect’

‘Wait, do you still have meetings’

‘No baby, that was the last one’ he smiled

‘Yayyyy’ she cheered her head still slightly fuzzy

He reached his hands out for her to grab so that she could sit up, hissing as all of her weight went onto her still very sore bum, that she would be reminded about for days to come.

‘We’ll get you an ice- pack as well darling’ he smirked

She managed to stand up on very shaky legs, falling into his bare chest, his arms wrapping round her so that she wouldn’t fall, kissing the top of her head ‘are you going to interrupt me whilst I’m working again baby’

‘Oh definitely daddy’ she whispered into his warm chest!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles hot #but daddy i love him #hs fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles is an angel #hazza styles #harold #hs1 #fine line #daddy!harry #work from home #dom!harry #harry smut

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pure-kirarin · 3 years

Text

Slow & Steady [P1] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

Hey bishes. I snapped and decided to publish first chapter of my current project. This was inspired by @glitterfreezed playlist . Honestly I am so thrilled for this story. It’s different from everything I have written so far and I am excited for how it will turn out. Genre : Romance - Smut - Bestfriends to lovers General warnings : Alcohol consumption - Dark themes - Swearing - S m u t - possessiveness - Mention of ex-relationships - jealousy

Synopsis : Isn’t love a matter of timing after all ? That’s what Sabo has always thought. It was about finding the right tempo, making the right moves and hitting the right spot. Patience is a virtue after all, and he had a lot of it. It all started when your ex cheated on you. You were heartbroken, you needed someone and he was there. Was he always that hot ? You didn’t know. But after that night you have never seen him in the same way. Part II -

Part I :

“(Y/N)…You should really stop drinking. Said Nami as she took the cup off your hands.

-Leave me alone ! I wanna drink some more…Come on…Let me drink“ you said as you reached weakly for the cup in her hand but ended up stumbling and almost falling.

You were quick to feel an arm encircle your waist. Your intoxicated senses could still pick up his scent, a mixture of mint and cologne. His gloved hand held you a little tighter against him so you don't fall.

« Sabo ! Glad to see you here. I didn't know what to do with her...She's been drinking non-stop.

His hand tightened possessively around your waist. He only knew too well what happened, yet he still asked Nami for confirmation :

« -Hey Nami, What's wrong ? (Y/N) isn't used to drink this much. -Oh...I don't know if I'm technically supposed to tell you but... » she bit her lower lip « let's say that she broke up with (ex). »

You started hysterically laughing as you heard you now ex's name while trying to escape from Sabo's firm grip.

« Eeeeeeeh ? Saboooo~ ? Whatcha doin' here huh ? Oh gosh are you following me ? Why do I always see ya everywhere ? Come're...Let's dance together~ Saboo.. » you screamed so he could hear you over the music.

The nightclub was extremely crowded but you needed all these faces, all these bodies almost crushing you on the dance floor. You needed to drown your pain in alcohol, the pain of being used and discarded, of being betrayed.

You didn't talk about this to Sabo, your bestfriend. You didn't want him to see you in this pathetic state. Seeing you like this made the blood pump into his veins. His fist clenched, but he tried to keep his calm. He slid a hand in his blond locks, sighing and rocking his head back.

He had to keep it in, if he lost his temper, it was going to be the end for your ex.

« I'm going to take her home » He says to Nami as he holds you by your arm.

« 'kay ! Here, she gives him your purse. Take good care of her okay ? I'm counting on you. » She seemed really worried.

-What are you guyyyz on about ? I don't wanna go home ! I wanna drink some more...Come on Sabo, you're no fun. It's good to loosen up from time to time. You're always so uptight...Come on...Lemme go...

-There is no way that I am going to let you in this state, (Y/N)

-That's none of your business ! Let me go....It has nothing to do with you.

Your words hurt but he was used to them, his role as your « best friend » meant that you were always blunt with each other, and usually it amused him, but not tonight.

« You're coming with me.

-Namiiiiiiii, you traitor! »

Sabo ignored your loud whines taking you to his car, eyebrows tied together, his blood on fire. He felt guilty ; he didn't prevent you from this hearbreak, he didn't protect you, his dear princess. He was too fooled by how happy you seemed, by the way you spoke so eagerly about that bastard, making him wish that it was him instead. But that was going to change.

You fell asleep while on the backseats of the car. Your dress was slightly up, showing your beautiful legs. It was extremely painful for Sabo to concentrate on the road, his head fuming because of anger and because of seeing you so vulnerable at his side. As you were sleeping and he didn't want to leave you alone, he decided to bring you to his own appartement that he shared with Ace.

He held you like a princess as if you were as light as a feather. Once inside, he put you on the couch. You slowly opened your eyes ;

-Sabooo...Ohh...We're at your place...Where's Ace ?

-Ace is spending the night with Thatch. You can stay here till tomorrow. I can't leave you alone...Well...Like this.

You rubbed your eyes together, sitting on the sofa. He found your flushed face extremely cute.

-Ohhh...’kayy...Gosh I'm nauseous..you put your hand over your lips. You looked at the glass of water on the table and got up to reach for it, but you stumbled and dropped the glass on the floor.

-Oh goddamnit...I'm sorry...you bent over to collect the shattered glass but Sabo's hand held yours ;

-It's fine, I'll take care of it. Are you hurt ?

You look at your hand some blood was dripping from the fresh cut. You instinctively put your finger in your mouth while looking into his eyes :

-Uh-uh it's fine...I'm really sorryyy for the glass.

-It's okay. I'll bring you another one, you just wait here, and don't touch anything. He says as he collects the pieces of glass to throw them away. Then he disappears into the kitchen only to come back with a glass of water.

You were sitting there, on the couch, in your underwear ; a simple set of black bra and cotton panties. Your dress was on the floor and you reached for the remote control to turn the T.V. on. Sabo blinked many times. He knew that you were bestfriends, and that you probably only thought of him as a brother, yet, you have never stripped in his presence. He almost dropped the glass of water but thankfully he managed to keep his cool. You were drunk. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially not tonight.

« Here, drink up. » He sits next to you and you put your legs on his ;

-Thank you~ Ahh, I took off my dress because it was wet. You said as you gestured to the said black dress. I didn't want to get your couch wet...Also it's kinda hot. You don't mind huh ? It's not like you've never seen me in a swimsuit before...Duuh. Wait ? Are you looking at my chest ??? Eh Sabo, stop right there you're looking at my chest ! I'm sure you're doing it haha.

You said playfully. You had a point, you were to the beach together before, but something about seeing you in underwear was different, and he hated himself for looking at you that way while you were so vulnerable.

-I'm not looking. As you said, it's not like I've never seen you in a swimsuit before. You're going to get a cold though. I'll get you a shirt.

He moves your legs out of the way and gets up.

-Okayyy~ But don't make me wait blondie.

-Blondie ? He stops and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, which makes you laugh super hard. - You know what ? Nevermind.

He proceded to ignore you and comes back with a shirt and some shorts. He took advantage of the situation to change into a white shirt and gray sweatpants. He takes place next to you on the couch as you were too focused watching cartoons and laughing at every not-so-funny joke.

You managed to put the black shirt on which was too big for you, reaching your thighs. You just threw the shorts away because the shirt was long enough to cover your panties.

-Thankyou~ Wha, your clothes really smell good. Kinda smells like you. You smell good.

He knew that your words were innocent, and that you were much more open because of the alcohol, however, he couldn't help but find you extremely adorable wearing his shirt. The thought of what your ex did made him extremely angry. How could he hurt you this way, you, almost an angel ?

If only you let him love you, he would never hurt you that way, he would cherish and protect you. You’ll never need anyone but him.

An hour passed, with you laughing extremely loud and him trying to keep his calm as you teased him -unconsciously-, putting your head on his shoulder or messing with him. Then, as you were starting to get a bit sleepy at one in the morning, you let your head fall on his lap and said ;

« Thank you for taking care of me Sabo. You're always here for me...Youuu always help me, you really are an amazing guy.

You were getting emotional so you put your hands on your face, a bit uncomfortable while talking about your feelings this way. Even though you were bestfriends, you weren't the kind to open up about her feelings so much. You hated being perceived as weak. He ruffled your hair lovingly, taking your hands slowly away from your face. His eyes were extremely gentle, it almost melt your pained heart. You couldn't help but think of your ex, and what he did.

-It's normal (Y/N), I wish I could've prevented all of this. I am sorry for what happened.

-Why are you sorry Sabo ? It's not your fault...It's just me, it's like I'm a fuckboy magnet or something...You said with a bitter laugh, trying to dedramatize the situation.

You sat down again on your knees on the couch, he turned a bit so he was facing you. He didn't know what to say to ease your pain. He didn't know what to say without betraying his emotions, without giving himself away.

-It's like...Everyone I meet plays me and breaks my heart. I'm so done...I really...What did I do wrong huh ? Why did he have to cheat on me ? Am I not enough ? Am I not pretty enough ? Am I not good enough for him ? What's wrong with me... ? Tell me Sabo what's wrong with me...

You did your best at holding your tears. Sabo gently placed his hand on the back of your head, this gesture was even better than words for you. You just snapped and started crying, your mascara staining the white shirt.

-You are more than enough (Y/N). He is just a bastard. You are extremely pretty..You are kind...Every man dreams to have you by his side. Shh..Don’t cry...he gently caressed your hair

You jolted back, looking him in the eyes and sniffing. He hated to think that in this moment, you were adorable, like a little puppy that was only asking to be protected :

-You're so kind Sabo...Why can't I attract guys like you huh ?

His eyes darkened, he never expected you to say anything like this. He knew it was the alcohol, he knew you didn't mean it, yet, it lit something new inside of him : a hint of hope. And if this wasn't better, you kept going on :

-I mean, you're handsome...You're kind, you're smart...And you make me laugh...you laughed a bit, hell you've seen me at my worst haha ! You really are amazing~I’m so lucky to be your best friend.

you moved yourself a bit because you were getting uncomfortable sitting on your knees on the couch like that. You just slipped onto his lap, and it wasn't the first time you did that. Actually, you had to sit on his lap many times when you were teenagers and you didn't have enough place in the car. But this time was different, you were both adults, and you were drunk and heartbroken.

-I'm sure that a lot of girls are into you...

You look down at his shirt, it's true that you have seen Sabo many times before, but you have never noticed that he was this attractive. You run your hand in his hair as if you were discovering his face for the first time, and you felt some kind of electricity between both of you. He was letting you go too far, almost to the point of no return, but you kept going on and on without leaving him the time to even process one thing.

-Why don't you tell me about anyone huh ? Don't you like girls ? What about that girl, Koala, I'm sure she's into you ! She's pretty cute and...Ahh...Don't tell me you're gay Sabo ???!

You put a hand on your lips simulating a shocked reaction. You knew him for so long and you would be offended if your bestfriend was gay and never told you about it. He held your hand and took it away from your lips. Looking at you with eyes you've never seen before. A serious look, you could've sworn that it was the look of yearning :

-I am not.

His voice firm, just like his grip on your wrist. You could've sworn that you saw something mirrored in his black eyes, something that disappeared as fast as it first appeared. And this thing, that little flame that you almost saw thrilled you. You wanted to understand this change in atmosphere, and why he wasn't laughing along with you. You felt a bit intimidated.

Did you go too far?

Probably.

But you wanted to go too far.

You wanted to feel something, to forget the stinging pain, to do things that you would regret.

You wanted to sabotage yourself, as a form of punishment.

But for what? And what did he do to deserve this?

Those questions didn't even cross your mind, adrenaline rushing through your veins making your mind blank. You were defying him with your eyes.

« Oh » you said, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. He didn't like this at all. He didn't like how you took all of this as a game while he was serious. But he was that desperate to see your next move.

The game has just started. It was the perfect timing.

«-Prove it.

-This is getting ridiculous. You should go to sleep as you are saying nonesense.

He knew that you were drunk, but pushing his buttons like this ? It was out of the question for him to take advantage of the situation. His feelings were sincere towards you. He didn't want to do something and betray your trust. He was better than your bastard ex.

If something was meant to happen, he wanted more than a hookup, he didn't want to abuse of the girl that he has always knew and loved and that saw him as a brother, even if she was half naked on his lap.

It took every ounce of control he had. Every drop of patience in his system to not block you on the couch and kiss your glossy lips.

-You're such a coward...Really...You scared huh ? You're scared ! Say that you've never been with a girl~ Come on, admit it...Who would've known huh ? Sabo you're always so cool~ But in reality you're juuusttttt a virgiiin. I'm so gonna tell Ace ! It's over for you blondie~

You playfully said unaware of the effect of your words, and of how dangerous they were, awakening something almost feral inside of him, just for a few seconds he lost control, pinning you against the couch fist on the side of your face. His face was so close to yours, his hair caressing your cheek and almost making you giggle.

You have never been this close to Sabo, physically speaking. You felt his leg between yours and you instinctively closed rubbed against it for friction. You just wanted to numb the feelings away. In that moment, you wanted to taunt him, you would've wanted anyone to fuck you. In fact, has he left you in that night club, you would've definitely ended in someone's bed.

But he took you here, so it was his fault, right ? So now it had to be him. He had to numb out the pain.

He was serious.

Sabo, your sweet blondie. Sabo the good friend. Sabo that was always here to pick you up everytime your heart was shattered in million pieces on the ground.

«-Don't try me. I think I'm really close to reaching my limit (Y/N) »

You felt thrilled to see him being serious. You wanted to push his buttons and make him mad. More mad. Because you were broken and you needed some intensity to forget. In that moment, you closed the gap between your lips and encircled his neck with your arms, leaning into a kiss: a desperate, sloppy, drunken kiss. Sabo's eyes opened wide as he felt your soft lips on his. He would have never expected this moment to happen. He never imagined his first kiss with you to be this way. You were so eager, so desperate, and the way you kissed him reflected your conflicted emotions. You kissed him like you needed him, not like you wanted him.

And that made him full of tenderness.

He sustained your back, bringing you a bit closer to his chest as you pulled down, eyelids heavy, eyes full of tears :

-Sabo...Kiss me back...Please...I need you. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad that it angered him, but the taste of alcohol on his lips reminded him of your state. His lack of reaction made you even more desperate ; -Sabo don't you want me ? Am I not pretty enough ?...Tell me Sabo...Am I not good enough ? You started nibbling on his ear, and he couldn't help but get hard, he was human after all, and he has loved you for so many years. You whispered into his ear ;

« Saboo I want you to fuck me »

That was it. That was enough. He got up leaving you there on the couch. Trying so hard not to lose it. He wasn't that guy. If anything, he was mad at your ex, seeing you so hurt that you would initiate something with him, thinking that it was only because of the heart break and alcohol. He held you in his arms like a princess ;

«-Enough playing now, you're going to sleep.

-B-but ! This wasn't what I asked for....You're really a coward after all...You virgin... »

He carried you to his room, putting you on the bed and sitting next to you.

«-I'd love to prove you wrong. However, it would be better if you were in a state where you'd be able to recall how good I am. If you want me to fuck you this badly then maybe ask me when you're sober. »

- Please support me by leaving feedback <3 it motivates me to keep going ! I am tagging people who asked to be tagged or exepressed interest. If you wanna be tagged, ask me ! Enjoy~

@vemuabhi @glitterfreezed @mwls-garden @soanywaysistartedsimping @tsunderedoctor

#Sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #sabo the revolutionary #one piece imagines #nami #sabo x y/n #one piece scenarios #multichapter fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece sabo #sabo #ace #vivi

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sserpente · 3 years

Photo

A/N: Request by @sparxxy. Loved this idea! Enjoy, everyone! ♥

Words: 1409 Warnings: fluff and… falling off the roof I guess?

You should have brought your gloves. It was freezing cold, especially now that you were fiddling around with tiny cables and light bulbs on a wobbly ladder. Hypothetically, Tony could have done this in his suit and hypothetically, he wouldn’t run a risk of suffering from hypothermia in the process covered in layers of metal but if there was one thing you were both naïve and proud about, then it was setting up Christmas decoration all by yourself—and that included colourful holiday lights on the roof.

You could do this. It was fun, even more so with so much snow around you. In that hindsight, you were even okay with numb fingers.

You were so focused on setting up the lights that you never heard someone approaching you, even on the crunchy snow. But then again, Loki usually moved with the grace of a cat. Being around him felt like circling a bomb—you never knew if or when it would explode but overall, you were glad the Avengers and eventually even SHIELD had accepted the God of Mischief sticking around after Asgard was destroyed even though everyone but Thor met him with suspicion or even hostility; even you did, for the most part. With Loki, you just never knew. So while the God of Thunder had begun wearing Christmas sweaters, baking horrible gingerbread and asking every single one of the other Avengers what it was they wanted for Christmas to buy them presents with Tony’s money, Loki appeared utterly irritated by the festive season.

“What in the nine are you doing?” He asked, head tilted slightly.

You flinched, holding on to the gutter frantically to not fall off. “Geez, Loki… clear your throat or something!” The God of Mischief only chuckled. “I’m putting up the holiday lights.”

“Whatever for?” You could practically hear his frown.

“So our headquarters will look more festive?” You suggested. “Actually, can you tell me if this is straight?”

“These quarters are in the middle of nowhere. No one will be able to see it.”

“I will. Now is this straight or not?”

“I suppose it is.”

“That is not reassuring.” You retorted.

“Well, what is it supposed to look like? You are only going to injure yourself. This ladder looks rather unsafe and the rungs are frozen.”

“Yes, I know that, Loki, which is why I’m asking you if they’re straight so I don’t have to climb up here again! Don’t be such a Scrooge.” You had gotten him a present—it was nothing too fancy but you had seen him taking notes on a stack of paper he had presumably stolen from your office a lot. Apparently, Loki was quite the scholar. You usually spotted him surrounded by books whenever the Avengers didn’t make him join life-threatening missions. In this aspect, you were quite glad you were only an assistant.

Anyway, you had decided to buy Loki a beautiful notebook bound in real leather along with a fancy green and gold pen with black ink but if he kept going like that, you might reconsider giving it to him after all.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Loki frowned, making you sigh. You were done anyway. All you had to do now was climb off, switch it on with the little remote and see if you had indeed hung it up straight if Loki wouldn’t give you a proper answer.

“Scrooge is a fictional character in ‘The Christmas Carol’ and he hated Christmas. It’s written by Charles Dickens, one of the greatest—argh!” An ear-piercing scream escaped your lips, heart skipping a beat when you slipped on one of the rungs on the frozen ladder, your hands failing to grasp at the cold metal again in time. You hurtled backwards through the ice-cold air so fast you were hardly able to process you were going to kiss the hard ground and likely break your neck in the process, brazing yourself for a painful impact—which never came. Your eyes flew open when you landed in Loki’s arms instead. The God of Mischief, so you realised, must have darted forward to catch you.

Panting, you looked up at him with wide eyes, not even quite able to catch your breath in return.

“I told you so.” He said quietly. Oddly enough though, there was no scorn in his voice—quite on the contrary; you had never heard Loki speak so softly before. His warm breath ghosted over your lips as he talked, his blue eyes glued on your face, likely reddened from the cold.

“T-thank you…” You whispered. Oh Heavens… Had he always been this handsome?

Neither of you moved. Instead, you remained in your awkward position, with Loki still carrying you bridal style and his face only mere inches from yours until a thundering voice ripped you both from your weird trance.

“Loki, have you seen my gingerbread pop tarts? Oh… oh? Am I interrupting something, brother?” He asked with a sly grin. He was standing in the doorway, right underneath a mistletoe and he was holding up an empty box of pop tarts.

“No,” Loki said quickly all the while sighing and rolling his eyes. You only swallowed, finally managing to move your limbs again and struggle just a little so he would put down again. You did not fail to notice that even once your feet were on the ground again, his left hand lingered on your waist just a little bit longer than absolutely necessary—and you would be lying if you claimed it bothered you.

“If I recall it correctly, you ate them all last night.” He continued, clearly unimpressed.

“I didn’t eat all of them.” Thor raised an eyebrow. “Did you eat them?”

“No,” Loki emphasised. “I may be the God of Mischief, brother but I do not have a death wish. Perhaps you should ask one of your mortal companions. Stark likes to steal food quite regularly as far as I am concerned.”

You smirked when Thor pointed at him in a threatening manner. “I am going to rub snow in your face if I find out you’re lying.”

“You do realise I am a Frost Giant, brother?” Oh, yes, you had almost forgotten about that. That must have been the reason why he wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

“M-hm. I’ll leave you two to… whatever then.” Loki rolled his eyes once more. You could hardly complain about his reaction. Thor could be rather sneaky if only he wanted to be and the fact he had interpreted Loki basically saving your life to be something… something… well… what exactly?

You and Loki? He couldn’t possibly think you would… or would you? You cleared your throat once the God of Thunder had disappeared inside again and closed the door, if anything to not make matters even more awkward than they already were.

Then, to distract from the embarrassing situation, you finally grabbed the remote of the holiday lights and pressed the button. Dozens of little bulbs lit up at once, some green, some red, some blue, some yellow, some purple, all blinking away happily. It was beautiful—and it definitely was straight.

You hummed in silent triumph.

“I admit, it does look rather pretty.” Loki suddenly said.

“Come on, it looks amazing! Is that really the best you can do?”

He gave you languid look. But nothing could have prepared you for what he did next. “Oh, what a masterpiece you have created, my dear. This is a truly marvellous sight. You must be a sorceress to have constructed such beauty for this Midgardian holiday they call Christmas. What would the Avengers do without your talent and your skilled hands?” Sarcasm was dripping from his voice, along with a downright theatrical tone not of mockery but pure amusement and teasing.

“Okay, okay, stop it.” You laughed, wouldn’t admit, however, how your heart jumped when he called you ‘my dear’. It took you quite a while to recover from your laughing fit. And if that wasn’t enough already, Loki was actually smiling too. “I’ve got two others to hang up, one on the balcony and one on the terrace.” You announced then. “Do you… would you help me?”

There it was again. His blue eyes locked with yours, capturing you both in another moment full of tension and… fascination. Eventually, the God of Mischief nodded.

“I might as well.”

Huh. Perhaps, Christmas miracles were real after all.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood/violence and language Genre: Action with a lil bit of fluff Warnings: Lil bit of blood Notes: There's an unnamed character in here who may or may not end up as recurring in my stories. I don't really have anything in particular planned for her, she's kinda just here to fill a role/allow for some easter egg type shit in the next chapter. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1, Pt. 2

{Wounded Love 3: Bloody Valentine (No, not that Valentine)}

“Mother Miranda, I must insist, if these lycans stray any further they might start feasting on the village as well! Pray tell, who will you use for research then? We can’t just-... Forgive me… Mhmm. Yes, I understand. Of course… Have a good night, Mother Miranda,” Lady Dimitrescu said, before setting her phone down with a loud thunk. Her hands shake a little, and for a moment you worry that her vanity won’t survive the coming moments. Then you make eye contact with her reflection, giving her an encouraging smile, watching as her gaze softens. “I’m afraid there’s nothing she can do, my dear. I cannot allow Heisenberg’s negligence to go unpunished, but we will have to take care of it on our own, without Mother Miranda’s support.”

“Is that wise, love? To go behind her back like this? I can’t imagine she’ll be terribly pleased if we cause chaos for one of her favored few,” you replied, clicking your tongue as you thought things over. Again you see anger cloud Alcina’s face, though she makes sure not to direct it at you.

“We are not the ones who started this mess,” she reminded you, through clenched teeth. “But we will be the ones to end it, one way or another. I don’t care if I have to gut that wretched man-thing and bring Miranda his corpse as proof of his incompetence! He has shown his lack of loyalty hundreds of times… and now he will pay.” Gulping, you rise to your feet, wanting to comfort your girlfriend. While you had understood that your injury angered her, you hadn’t (until this moment) realized the sheer intensity of that rage. How much blood would be shed before this was over?...

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Crimson drips down the beast’s side, across matted fur, before hitting the wooden floor. A stench as awful as you had ever found filled the air, only made tolerable by the nearby presence of scented candles. What a mess, you think, glad that you wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. Why had the girls insisted on bringing the damn thing inside? Couldn’t they have simply snatched a few teeth from its jaw as a prize? Somehow you doubted that the thought had even crossed their minds. Violence was a passion of theirs, and they preferred their trophies to be as large as the effort they put into getting it.

“How close to the path did you find it?” You asked after finishing your examination of the lycan. Next to you, the eldest daughter is rapidly taking notes in a leather-bound journal. Both of her siblings stand near the fireplace, hands held out next to the flames, needing to warm up after being outside for so long. It wasn’t even that cold of a day, with temperatures averaging around eighteen degrees celsius. All the snowfall from the prior week had now melted. While you knew of the family’s weakness, you also knew that they had bundled up before leaving, and had even taken a torch with them in the hopes of using it on a lycan. Their powers had taken somewhat of a hit, temporarily, but not nearly enough to prevent them from killing a single lycan.

“Heard it howling almost as soon as we left the castle. We couldn’t smell it until halfway to the village, though. Once we could we tried to track it, only for the stupid thing to come charging at us. Must have been eight, maybe ten, meters away by the time we collided,” Cassandra answered. There’s a bit of a shiver to her voice, and you can’t help the rush of sympathy you feel in response. Being out on the path, wearing little more than a dress and scarf, had been absolute hell for you. Even if it was warmer outside now, you imagined that being weak to the cold just about made up for the difference. “There was a little more howling once we started walking back here. Louder, if not closer. Heisenbitch isn’t even trying to keep these fucking things in check.”

“Cassandra, language!” Came a voice in the distance, making everyone present look up at once. Strutting down the stairs was a clearly miffed Alcina, eyes narrowed, body tense. “Did you three really have to bring the mutt inside? Surely you advocated against this, Bela? Or did you think I wanted new bloodstains right by the entrance, where everyone can see them?” Next to you Bela winces, but doesn’t respond, too worried about angering her mother further. “And you, my dear, what on Earth are you doing on the floor? You should be resting, in an actual chair, if not lying in bed awaiting my return. There’s enough for me to worry about without you limping around on a useless leg!”

Now it was your turn to wince.

“Please, love, I know you’re stressed, but I can still help. Given enough time I could help ascertain these things’ weaknesses. At the very least I could pass on what I learned during my fight with one,” you pleaded. Then you tried to stand up, wanting to prove yourself, only to stumble, barely avoiding a faceplant- and only doing so because of Bela’s quick reaction time. She helped you to your feet, letting you lean on her, then lead you towards a bench. Begrudgingly you sit back down. “You’re only doing this because I got hurt. Helping you in your endeavor to avenge me is the least I can do.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Alcina snapped, now just a couple meters away from you. Even with that space between you, her presence was intimidating, and you almost felt like a child being scolded. “Were you to get hurt again, how would we avenge you? If you fall by your own hand, there will be naught I can do other than lock you away somewhere without any dangerous elements. What sort of existence would that be for you? I simply can’t allow it, no exceptions.” At this you pout, feeling rather disappointed. It’s not as if you were asking to carry a gun and shoot Heisenberg yourself! Not that you would be opposed to doing so, of course. “Try to put yourself in my place, my dear. Could you live with yourself if you failed to protect me?”

“I suppose I could not, love. Very well, I shall simply root you on from here, and kiss away any injuries you return with,” you replied, at last giving in. Then you found yourself smiling… and on the receiving end of a very soft forehead kiss. “Nothing will separate us, my love. None can tear apart that which the universe has stitched together.”

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“Like I said, my Lady, I already want him dead. Did you really think that your family was the only one to suffer because of his machinations? I know half a dozen people who would love to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull, bare mims,” the huntress said, white teeth showing in her half-smirk. There was an odd coolness to her voice, like this whole ordeal was just another job, and you couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her. Could she really be the solution to Alcina’s problem? You couldn’t even judge her arsenal, considering she had been instructed to come unarmed. After all, she was a hunter of monsters, with a sizable history to her name. If not for her hatred of Heisenberg, you would never have felt comfortable letting her come within two hundred meters of your girlfriend.

“How can I be sure that you’ll succeed? The last thing I want is to have that wretched man-thing come crawling out of the filth he lives in, angry and coming for vengeance,” Alcina responded, scrutinizing gaze locked on the huntress.

“Didn’t Duke give you my file? Or at least read the good bits out loud? I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, with all sorts of bioweapon mutant freaks. Besides, I don’t plan on leaving any receipts behind. If he manages to survive, which is already one hell of an if, there’s no way he can prove that you asked me to do it. Considering he’s already seen my face, and knows I want him dead… yeah, he won’t bother accusing you, not when I’m in the picture, and certainly not when you’ve got such a big reputation for following Mother Miranda’s word down to the very last letter. So, you gonna make this official, or what?” The huntress asked, gesturing her arms wide. Although you’re still not convinced, Alcina nods quietly, seeming ready to make her decision. Regardless of how you feel about the stranger in front of you, you’re more than willing to support your girlfriend in whatever she planned.

“Very well, huntress. Show us just what you’re capable of.”

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

Flames licked at her heels, even as she charged forward, tickling like hot breaths against her skin. Behind her half a dozen lycans roared and screeched in unison. Smoke and ashes flew upwards, into the air, but could not poison her lungs, not when she had come prepared. Still, the mask was not as easy to breathe in as she had hoped, making her chest heave with effort at each intake of air. Good thing I’ll be gone soon, she thought, sparing a glance behind her as she ran. Dozens of trees were aflame, and countless glowing eyes watched from between the branches. They wouldn’t be there for much longer, not with what she had done.

Soon enough an explosion would shake the Earth. Then, finally, both the lycans who had killed her father and the man who desecrated the remains would be dead. And if a certain countess happened to pay her for her services? All the better, really. Funerals could be expensive, especially in such a remote village. More than that… there was no guarantee that she’d be able to outrun Mother Miranda on her own. A little money would make the flight out a hell of a lot nicer.

Assuming she made it that far. There was another scream behind her, this one more human, though somewhat warped by mechanics. It wasn’t a pained cry. No, it was filled with rage. Clearly Heisenberg had come out of his lair, hearing the fireworks, finding his scrap metal and werewolf army in chaos. From the sound of things- metal against metal, electricity crackling- he was coming her way.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” She muttered, desperately trying to get to higher ground. Even if the lycans succumbed to the overwhelming fire, it wouldn’t be hard for their leader to overcome. But the huntress was still too close to her explosives to risk activating the detonator. Just a bit farther, she thought, ignoring the way her lungs ached. Rocks kicked up with every step, loud enough to be heard from a distance, and made traction harder to keep. In the end she had to scramble to get up the side of a short cliff. A few scrapes appeared on her hands, making her curse under her breath.

But with one last movement, pulling herself up with both arms, she was finally far enough to be relatively safe. In one clean second she turned around, pulled the detonator out of its pouch and clicked the trigger. Just like that, a forest blazing turns into a mushroom cloud of pure hellfire. The setting sun makes for a beautiful backdrop, and the sight almost brings a tear to the huntress’ eyes. For a few moments she just enjoys the view. Then, without hesitation or remorse, she starts to walk away, mentally congratulating herself for a job well done.

Until something shoots past her head with terrifying speed. Before she can react another sharp piece of metal flies past her, grazing her arm, and there’s a blood-curdling roar from behind her. Then she’s running, fast as she can, pulse pounding harder than it ever has. One hand goes to the rifle on her back, pulling it out as quickly as she can. The area is rocky, with plenty of outcrops, perfect to hide behind (assuming there weren’t any hidden metal deposits). Quickly she ducks behind one, crouching to keep her head out of sight. Mere milliseconds later another metal spike slams into the ground just beyond her cover.

In the distance, more screams pierce the air, and something heavy drags itself across the ground. It almost sounds like a tank rolling through the woods. The thought alone worries the huntress, but she had never been one to let her fear control her. So she double checks her rifle, adjusts the scope, and pops out of cover. Less than a second later she has her target in her sights. It’s Heisenberg, for sure, more metal than man, but dripping with red. One press of the trigger sends a bullet straight for his ugly head. Unsurprisingly, it’s not enough to pierce his cranium, instead making him mad as hell.

Which is why automatic guns were invented, probably. The huntress holds the trigger down this time, though briefly, before dashing to the next piece of cover. She repeats the process a few times, hoping to kill the man before he could climb the cliff she stood on. If he managed to get up there with her… no, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had to focus.

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

Hidden among the trees, the Dimitrescu sisters watched as plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Even though they had been aware of the huntress’ plan, they hadn’t expected this much carnage. It was certainly exciting! But they really couldn’t see much from where they were. Getting closer was probably a horrible idea, and yet Cassandra shared a meaningful look with Daniela. A split second later they were forming a swarm, rushing into the trees, leaving their elder sister to yell after them.

“Mother’s going to kill me,” Bela said, before rolling her eyes and following. Maybe she could at least keep them out of trouble?... Probably not.

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Metal hands wrap around the huntress’ throat, squeezing hard, but do not twist or otherwise break their prey. No, Heisenberg does not intend to end this that quickly. This rodent had taken so much from him, set his plans back by decades. He was going to kill her slowly. When she still fights back, pulling a knife from her boot and trying to stab whatever she can reach, he does little else but laugh. It’s a crazed cackling that echoes through the surrounding rocky hills.

Just barely loud enough to drown out the sound of insects buzzing.

“Fuck that guy!” Someone shouted, right as a sickle descended upon the monstrous Heisenberg’s neck. The first slice isn’t enough to sever the connection, which is why it’s immediately followed by a second, from another sister, then a third, from the eldest, that finally does the job. Just like that the hands release from the huntress’ throat, and she gasps for air. Coughs leave her distracted as the sisters move to surround her. “Good thing we wanted to see the show up close and personal, eh?” Daniela asked, twirling her sickle with a little giggle.

“You idiots are just lucky I followed you,” Bela added, glaring at her sister. Internally, she was relieved that the end result was a success. Still, she worried about what her mother would think, and certainly didn’t intend to voice her satisfaction at delivering the killing blow. “Now let’s get back, before mother assumes the worst and comes to get us herself.” Sighing, she extends a hand to help the huntress up. Though their mutual enemy had been defeated, there was still much to be done. Who knew how Mother Miranda would react? Who, if anyone, would take Heisenberg’s place? There was plenty to be unsure about, and Bela let her mind wander the whole way back, hoping that things would only get better from here...

#lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #I know the reader didn't have a big part in this #but don't worry next chap will have a bigger part #partially cuz reader's leg will actually be a bit better by then #gotta give time to heal!!!

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