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justalonelyslytherin · 2 years

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Secret Family Recipe - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female Reader

Summary: Just married, Jake's mother deems her new daughter-in-law ready to learn the families secret and special recipes. All. Jake has other some more slightly different plans.

Warnings: fluff. Slightly suggestive at the end - use of an innuendo - but otherwise pg

Wordcount: 1.3k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This is part of @flufftober's Flufftober 2022 as well as my 300 Follower Celebration. Divider's are by the lovely @/firefly-graphics

When she had met and consequently fallen in love with Jake Seresin she hadn’t expected to also fall in love with the way he loved his family, even less so with his family themselves. From the moment he had introduced her to them though, the deal had been sealed. They had welcomed her with open arms, not hesitating to make her part of the family even before Jake had officially done so.

“Now that you are a proper Seresin it’s time to introduce you to all our family recipes.” Jake's mother was excited for all she could tell. The woman had wasted no time to seize her chance and drag her into the kitchen while commandeering her son to go help on the ranch outside.

Now they were here in the huge country kitchen that the Seresin ranch had. It was the dream of every baker and cook. The kitchen island in the middle was littered with assortments of bakeware and ingredients of all sorts. It was an overwhelming amount of things she recognized and things she had no clue about.

First things first, however, they had turned towards the cups and big tea selection Mrs. Seresin curated. Standing beside her mother-in-law she nestled a big cup of steaming tea in her hands, while Jake’s mother stirred her own cup.

“All of them?” she asked as Mrs. Seresin took a sip of her cup. Before the older woman could answer her, they were disturbed. In walked Ellie - Jake’s younger sister - causing both women to look her way.

“Jeez, mum, are we doing disaster prepping now, or are you trying to feed the entire Navy?” Ellie joked upon seeing the huge amount of things littering the workspace.

Jake’s mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No. But it’s time to pass down the family recipes to your new sister-in-law.”

Loudly gasping, Ellie turned towards her. “Really?” she asked excitedly, running over to her and bouncing back and forth on her feet. Smiling, she nodded at Ellie and asked, “Do you want to help too?” Ellie started to beam even brighter and nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Yes!” She squealed and raced to the sink to wash her hands, “Where are we starting?” But before Mrs. Seresin could answer Ellie gasped loudly once more and turned back around to eye her up and down.

“You aren’t pregnant are you?”

The question made her splutter and choke on the sip of tea she took. The droplets of sweet tea had made it down the wrong pipe and had her cough violently as she shook her head. Mrs. Seresin patted her on the back continuously.

“No!”, she managed to squeeze out in between the coughs and when the coughing had settled down she added, “Not yet. What makes you think that?” The surprise in her voice was clear.

Jake and she had just gotten married. In fact, they had just returned from their honeymoon, spending now the last of his military leave with his family before they would fly back to where he was stationed. They wanted kids, that was no question and no secret either. But they hadn’t made any plans yet.

Ellie shrugged her shoulders, the disappointed look on her face unconcealed, “Well mum said it’s time for all of them. But going through every recipe at once seems rushed.”

“Ellie!” Jake’s mother scolded, looking rather bashful. “I am simply excited to pass along the recipes to another daughter. She is my only daughter-in-law.”

“Who says that? What if I decide to marry a woman later on?” Ellie’s quip made her mother roll her eyes.

“Fine. She is my only daughter-in-law for now.” With that, Ellie grinned triumphantly and nodded. Satisfied she turned back towards the many ingredients.

“So where do we start?” Y/N asked, eyeing all the things on the table.

In unison both Seresin women answered, “Pie,” to which Mama Seresin added: “Pumpkin pie. I just harvested these from the garden.”

Thus they started making the dough and the filling. Jake’s mother taught her all the little tricks and tips that made the recipe so special. That made the recipe a Seresin recipe.

The first pumpkin pie was already in the oven, slowly baking and browning. The sweet fragrance of the baked good slowly spread throughout the kitchen when they heard the front door open just before the shuffling of someone removing their shoes. Just after Jake came waltzing into the kitchen barefoot. He grinned like a Cheshire cat at the look of the three women standing there together.

“Heya cowboy,” She greeted her husband - still getting used to the term - and smiled brightly up at him from the bowl she was mixing another batch of filling. Jake eyed her up and down before walking over.

He was just about to dip his pinky into the bowl when he was whacked with a wooden spoon by his mother. “Jacob Seresin you wash your filthy paws before you touch anything in my kitchen or so god will!”

Holding up his hands in defense and snickering quietly Jake obliqued. He trudged over to the sink to wash his hands with plenty of soap to get the dirt left from the work outside off of his fingers. Once he was down he came back over to her, to wrap his arms around his wife. Y/N shuddered as her shirt got soaked. Of course, he didn’t dry his hands, the cheeky little ass he was. With a groan, she elbowed him.

“Jake!” Her scolding didn’t impress him the slightest, he only chuckled into her ear and leaned his head on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and squeezing her waist.

“Baking,” she answered with pursed lips causing him to rumble behind her - he could obviously see and smell that. His innocent kiss to her neck quickly turned less innocent as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin. Goosebumps spread over her body, she nearly dropped the spoon she was holding from the sensation too. When he went so far as to even lightly bite her there, she shuddered against him, once more jabbing him with her elbow. He didn’t care. Of course, he didn’t.

“I can see that, sweets. But what are you baking?”

“Pumpkin pie.”

Jake behind her hummed, “Delicious,” he whispered. The way he said it she wasn’t sure if he meant the pie or her.

Ellie groaned and shot a murderous glare towards her brother, “Shut up or I’ll dunk the bowl of pumpkin seeds on your head, Jake.”

Jake laughed once more, “You wouldn’t dare sully mum’s kitchen like that.” Ellie rolled her eyes and grumbled. He was right. Their mother would have a heart attack having pumpkin innards and seeds strewn through her kitchen.

Once Ellie had turned back to focus on her own task, Jake turned his attention back to his wife. He pressed himself against her back and rolled his hips against her behind. Lowly he murmured into her ear, “Want to sully somethin’ else later? I got some better seeds.”

His words made her feel like she was on fire. Heat crept up her neck and encompassed her cheeks and ears. Gasping, she faltered in her movement, nearly dropping the spoon in her hand into the bowl.

“Jake,” she whined quietly, huffing about his unfairness. How could he say this right now, in front of his family, and expect her to stay calm?

“Wouldn’t you like it if we had our own little pumpkin by next year?” His hands crept around her middle, one sliding under her shirt to rub against her belly. “I’d certainly enjoy seeing you as round as one.”

#sly's 300 #flufftober2022 #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x wife!reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin imagine #hangman x reader

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dixonlvr-online · 2 years

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Pretty serious

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Challenge: At the end of their rope / POV outsider @flufftober/ "Not on my watch!"

“Hey, is Y/N single? I was thinking of askin’ her out,” Alden asked Maggie. She snorted. Alden noticed her reaction and narrowed his eyes at her. “What?”

The two of them stood by the blacksmith tent at Hilltop, going over plans for the day, when Alden dropped the question. He’d been staring at you all morning, where you were standing watch on the wall.

Maggie grinned at the clueless man. “You really don’t know?”

Alden shrugged, a nervous feeling creeping up his spine. Maggie nodded her head towards the guard tower, where you were now greeting someone with a hug. Alden shuddered when he saw who it was.

Daryl Dixon and he were friendly, now that time had passed since the war with the Saviors, but he wasn’t someone Alden wanted to mess with. He shot Maggie a look, almost pleading with her to tell him he hadn’t missed something so big.

She patted him on the back, encouragingly. “It’s alright. They don’t like to flaunt it, but they’ve been together for years now. Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

Now that she’d mentioned it, he remembered all the times he’d seen Y/N from afar, and how she was always with Daryl. The few times he’d been in conversation alone with her, she’d brought up Daryl then, too.

Alden groaned at his stupidity. “I can’t believe it either. Now that you’ve said it, though, it’s pretty obvious.”

He turned to you now, where you were casually leaning against the archer. His arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you to him. The two of you were picture perfect, Alden had to admit.

“So, they’re pretty serious, huh?” he asked. Maggie smiled, mind flashing to the early days of your relationship. How the two of you had grown inseparable at the farm, but were too scared to admit your feelings. How Maggie and Glenn teamed up to convince the two of you to confess at the prison. How the two of you were sparks ignited as soon as those feelings were shared.

Maggie was also privy to a secret you’d shared with her months ago: that the two of you had secretly married. She’d gasped when you told her, though she wasn’t at all surprised. It was inevitable that you two tie the knot, as you were going to be together forever anyways.

Now she watched the two of you hold each other close, lovingly oblivious to the admirers below you.

“Yeah,” she said, “They’re pretty serious.”

#flufftober2022 #flufftober #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #twd #norman reedus

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suntoru · 2 years

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𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢

⤷ feat. bakugo katsuki

synopsis: other people know bakugo katsuki as rude, arrogant, and bratty. but only you get the privilege of seeing his softer side during your amusement park date.

back to flufftober masterlist

⤷ he drives you there and takes you back home.

now, if you were any old friend of his, he wouldn’t have even bothered to take you anywhere, let alone drive you. but there’s something about you that makes him want to wrap you in a thousand blankets, tuck you into a blanket burrito, and protect you forever. he’ll make sure that you’re all buckled up and comfy before turning on the ignition and driving away. he’s very concentrated on driving, so you silently admire his side profile while humming to the song playing on the radio, slightly blushing at the way he puts his hand on your thigh. oh, and you and bakugo have a shared playlist you always listen to together <;3

⤷ he pays for everything.

even if you insist that you pay for some of the things, he’ll just tell you to shut up and let him handle it. he buys you the ticket, cute keychains and snacks, and even matching headbands. but if you’re as stubborn as he is, you’ll soon notice that your wallet has mysteriously disappeared! you frantically look around while he’s just smirking, before you realize it wasn’t actually missing, and he promises it’s safely tucked away somewhere. you demand it back, but your ‘scary’ face looks more like a pout than a scowl, one that makes the tip of his ears turn pink.

⤷ he brings homemade food.

he says the food is ‘too expensive and tastes shitty’ even though he’s loaded, so he always makes two lunchboxes filled with homemade goodies. it’s an honour to be able to taste something made by katsuki himself, but he also tones down the spiciness for your ‘weak-ass taste buds’. but in reality, he normally dumps the entire jar of spice on his food :((( but if you coo and ask him if he made yours special, he’ll deny it and curse at you, even if he spent two hours making the onigiri look like a cute bear.

he’ll also let you indulge in a couple of snacks, just as long as you give him a taste.

⤷ he holds your hand in lines and on rides.

unlike the usual over-the-top pda displaying couple, he’ll keep it to a minimum and just hold your hand. pray for anyone who bumps or tries to bud either of you, because his loud ass voice explosions will get you kicked out of the park. during rides, he pretends like he doesn’t give a fuck, but he’ll try and subtly lead you to the rides he wants to go on. oh, and if you’re terrified of rollercoasters, he’d either go on the more mild ones, like the spinning teacups or the carousel, or he’d be a bitch and take you to one of the highest rollercoasters. don’t worry, he’s there so you can cling onto him.

⤷ he wins you all of the prizes.

near the end of the day, you’re finishing the last of your cotton candy when you suddenly let go of his hand a run over to a stall. you fork over some cash and start playing the game, with him looking at you confusedly. however, after multiple failed events, you sigh dejectedly and decide to give up. “katsu, let’s just-“ you’re interrupted by your boyfriend, who unlike you, is surprisingly good at the games. you watch in amazement as he manages to pop all the balloons with a dart, shoot through all the mini basketball hoops, and toss every ring onto a pin. he even helps you win some of the games! you go home with two large bags of stuffies, much to your delight.

+ bonus!

as the day ends, you intertwine your hands with his as you rest your head on his shoulder. “thanks for the day ‘suki, you’re as sweet as cotton candy.” you whisper sleepily. “tch, you dumbass, it wasn’t that special.” he grumbles, but there’s a very obvious blush on his face. there’s also a… smile?

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flufftober · 2 years

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Hello and welcome to our second annual Flufftober 🥳

We’re so excited to be back and to once again have you here!

Let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰

You’ll find the entire prompt list - as well as a list of prompt substitutes! - at the end of this post so you can easily copy/paste it all. But first:

Rules & FAQ

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gifsets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…)

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉

You can start writing and/or arting as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

NEW this year are our prompt substitutes! These are the five most loved prompts from the previous year, and you can use as many of them as you like instead of five prompts from the original list - or even in addition, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts as long as it’s separated into chapters and the respective chapter/work is posted on the given day.

You do not have to stick to one ship or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2022

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also add @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2022 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt substitute, instead of #day [xy] tag it as #alt 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection flufftober2022 or flufftober_2022 (yes, we've claimed both because so many people added to the wrong collection last year 😅)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like last year, reblogs will become less and less and further apart the more months pass...

Prompts

1. Wearing Each Other’s Clothes

2. “You’ve told your parents?”

3. Thick as Thieves

4. Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies

5. “Oh no, you’re a Morning Person!”

6. Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

7. Movie Marathon

8. Shooting Stars

9. Game Day (Sports)

10. Love Language

11. Poetry, Art, Music, Craft

12. “You kept this?”

13. Secret Family Recipe

14. Truth or Dare/20 Questions

15. Accidents don't just happen accidentally

16. “I hate you” – “I love you too”

17. Animal Shelter

18. Soulmate AU

19. Hot Chocolate

20. Bedtime Stories

21. Kiss for Good Luck

22. “Have you heard?”

23. POV Outsider

24. All the Hugs

25. First Dance

26. Blankets

27. Reunion

28. Picnic

29. Leaves

30. Dear Diary

31. A Sweet Treat

Prompt Substitutes

Last year, many of you asked for it, this year we're delivering 😊 introducing: Prompts Substitutes!

As explained in the rules, these can be used if there are prompts in the original list that you don't like for whatever reason. No need to explain or apologize for it, simply switch them with one of the five most loved prompts from last year. Or... you know... just add these five to your list of 31 prompts that want to be written 😉

Alt 1: Slow Dancing

Alt 2: Caught in the Rain

Alt 3: Falling Asleep Together

Alt 4: Up Against the Wall Kiss

Alt 5: Winning a Teddy for the Other

We hope you like these lists, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

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scholastic-dragon · 2 years

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Flufftober Day 17: Up Against the Wall Kiss

Leonardo x Gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: turtle smootches (my favorite), established relationship, nervous and flustered Leo, idiots in love, spelling mistakes,

Summary: Leo's too shy to initiate your first kiss; you're not.

Leo was a gentleman.

Sometimes a little too much so.

He was ever so sweet and thoughtful. Always pulling out your chair, offering you a hand when climbing down the manhole ladder.

It's what drew you to him. He had a heart of gold hidden behind his strong chest and he'd given you the honor of calling it yours.

Two and a half months into your relationship and you hadn't stopped smiling. You were sure he hasn't either.

That wasn't to say it was without fault. It took a bit of work in the beginning, he sat you down and sheepishly explained how nervous he was and that he wanted to take things slow. You agreed and allowed him the time to open up about his boundaries.

After that, things only got better and better. He texted you whenever he could, sometimes thoughtful messages, others funny pictures and memes and sometimes simply 'I miss you'

You couldn't complain. You shouldn't complain. And yet....he's yet to kiss you. You can tell he wants to.

Getting ready to leave your apartment after dinner and a movie, perched on the windowsill, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

Then he bids you goodnight and ducks out of the window.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. It was clear he wanted to kiss you: so why hadn’t he?

Deciding it was time for a change, you invite him over for another dinner and movie. He accepts without question.

You feel nervous throughout the whole evening, it wasn’t a big deal, was it?

“Are you alright, love?” Leo asks, gently putting his hand over yours. His palm alone engulfs your whole hand, he’s warm and comforting and pulls you out of your thoughts.

You shake your head, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, just got some stuff on my mind,” You take a sip of your drink, hoping your face wasn’t as red as you felt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He squeezes your hand, smiling warmly: why was he so handsome?

“We probably should,” You scoff, exhaling sharply. He raises an eyebrow, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s nothing bad,” You’re quick to amend, not wanting him to assume the worst.

“What is it? You can tell me,”

“I know I can, I just, well, I’m not sure how to go about it,” You start to ramble, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks. “There’s something I want us to do and I know some part of you does, but if I’m going too fast or you feel uncomfortable you can just tell me and I’ll back off, but-”

“Love,” He quietly laughs, “Deep breaths, okay? You don’t need to be nervous,”

You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and meeting his bright eyes.

“I....I want to....to kiss you,” You were sure his heart stopped. He inhaled sharply, shoulders going back, eyes wide. He looked like he stopped breathing. “Leo?”

“I....um....uh,” He looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck. You were sure if he could he’d be bright red.

“If that’s too much right now we don’t have too,” You squeeze his hand. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do,”

He sighs, whispering as if he were saying something he shouldn’t. “I want to, I-I just,” He runs his free hand down his face, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Reaching across the table you tilt his chin toward you. “I just wanted to let you know that whenever you’re ready to take that step, I’m here,”

He smiles, a small sigh of relief escaping him. He takes your hand from under his chin and presses three firm kisses to your knuckles.

“And I’m so grateful for how patient your being, and how you’re willing to take this slow.” He opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure of how to word his statement. “I want to....to kiss you, but, I’m nervous,”

“Nervous about what, honey?” He lowers his hand, still holding yours, to the table, not meeting your eyes.

“You’d be my first kiss and I’m afraid I’m not going to do it right,” He mumbles, running his thumb across the back of your hand.

You smile, taking both of your hands and cupping his. “That’s alright, Leo, we’ll learn together, okay?”

He nods, exhaling a deep breath. Not wanting to stress him out more, you offer to snuggle on the couch with a movie. He agrees, helping you pack away the leftover food and rinse the dishes. Now you’re wrapped up in his arms watching a cheesy Christmas movie.

“Is there a reason why we’re watching a Christmas movie in the middle of October?” He mumbles into your hair.

You shake you head. “Makes me happy, I love Christmas,” Your back is pressed up against his chest, you feel him chuckle softly, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

The movie goes by quick and now you’re back to the same spot. He’s putting on his gear and shoes, telling you the schedule for the next week and when you both can hangout.

He opens your window and turns around, looming over you.

“I’ll text you later?” He gives his classic boyish smile, eyes soft and he reaches for your hands.

“Yes, you should,” You giggle, squeezing his hands, looking up into his blue eyes.

The moment happens again, eyes flickering back and forth between your lips. He leans forward; this is it, he’s gonna do it. He leans at the last second, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

Damn it.

He sheepishly pulls back, clearly a little embarrassed.

“Leo?” He hums, not wanting to speak. “Do you want me to initiate the kiss?” He swallows hard, adams apple bobbing, he nods eagerly.

Smiling you push on the hard plates of his chest, his eyes go wide but he lets you move him until his shell bumps the wall. You take his face in your hands, gently adjusting his mask.

“Ready?” He nods again, licking his lips.

Your thumbs running along his cheekbones, you lean up on your tiptoes, tilting your face to meet his. His lips are considerably larger than yours, but are warm and soft. He’s gentle, afraid he might mess up, but you feel his shoulders loosen.

You pull away, trying not to giggle as he leans forward, recapturing your lips. His hands, shakily, go to your waist, pulling you closer. Gaining a small spark of confidence, he splays his palms across your back, holding you close.

Needing air, you pull away, panting heavily you meet his eyes. He’s smiling and panting as much, if not more, than you are.

“How was that for a first kiss?” You giggle, kissing his chin.

“Not sure, perhaps you should give me another,” He leans in, pressing his lips to yours again.

He was such a gentleman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @flufftober @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @mysticboombox @strawberrycakeblog

#flufftober #flufftober2022 #flufftober 2022 #flufftober day 17 #day 17 #up against the wall kiss #tmnt leo #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt #tmnt headcannons #tmnt imagines #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 2 years

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hey!! Can i request a spy x family x child reader?

Let's assume that Twilight needed 2 children for this mission and basically the reader gets adopted at the same time as Anya and the reader is actually a 6 year old. The reader is very smart and has a personality similar to Twilight

(you can ignore if it's too much)

This will be interesting. Sorry if I made Reader too serious

Forger family x child! Reader

Let's say you and Anya were in seperate adoption centers, and you were the last one to be adopted hence your almost always stoic expression and pretty serious manner for a 6 year old . But Loid thought you were perfect, a quiet calm child who won't cause any trouble and plus your intelligence.

And when you and anya met a few hours later she was lowkey scared of you and thought you'd be like atleast 10-12 with just a short and quite small body but when she read your mind it was mostly innocent stuff like "I really want candy right now." Or "I hope I will have a good home."

Yor absolutely adored you and Loid, when she saw you and Loid together studying she was melting at how you two were so similar in personality and appearance! (meaning your facial expression)

You two are basically. "🗿"

You are also protective of Anya and telling off Damian and his friends when they pick on her but noticed how he would blush at Anya doing basically anything. And you thought this would actually be a great chance to make them closer somehow.

And you and Anya's scores difference are probably very drastic and Loid would do the good ol' comparing like "look at Y/N's score and yours, why can't you be like them?" Ofc Anya would later get sad and gloomy and Loid would later apologize and comfort Anya. You didn't like it either.

Yor would sometimes worry at how serious you are sometimes and would think something bad has happened. But there would also be times where you assure her and smile which would relieve Yor greatly. She really wants to make a good impression for both her children so whenever you smile when she does something for you or give you something she's practically liquid.

When Yuri first saw you and your calm manner he thought you were the biological child of Loid. (If your appearances are different from Loid's then he'll just think you took more of your previous mother's genes.) And was pretty embarrassed when you weren't since he probably made a fuss about it.

Anya may or may not tell you about her telepathic abilities, very unlikely since she's scared you'll be scared of her and snitch but there's always a possibility.

You'll be stuck like glue 90% of the time and if she decides to tell you about her secret? You're stuck together 100% of the time, she'll treat you like an older sibling (because you are) and talk to you about all her problems and troubles and you guys probably fall asleep together watching TV with the dog. (Yor and Loid have both become slime.)

Oh talking about the dog you and Anya will both play with bond 24/7, and bond will protect you both from any future danger. (Good boy bond!)

You sometimes scold Anya at her risky and unwise decisions she makes when in public and then she'll be at the brink of tears because you're supposed to support her and care for her, not scold her! And then you'll also have to apologize.

Loid will treat you no lesser or better than Anya but he does leave you in charge of both Anya and Yor while he's gone because he knows Yor will to do whatever Anya says. At this point you and Loid are the head of the family.

If you suddenly cry or break down the whole family will absolutely panic. Yor would try to calm you down but she's also almost close to crying so it isn't helping at all. Anya would cry with you. Loid would try to bribe you with candy or your favorite food to stop crying because he doesn't know what the hell to do. If someone made you cry the whole family will be mad. But if it's just some accident like bruising your leg or body on some furniture you can bet your hair (or head if you're bald) Yor and Loid will baby proof that furniture.

Overall your life with the forgers are colorful and full of surprises. Very risky though.

#loid forger #anya forger #yor forger #bond forger #spy x family #anya and yor #loid and anya #spy x family anya #spy x family loid #spy x family yor #x you fluff #x you #x reader #anime x you #x child reader #platonic #loid x yor #flufftober2022 #yuri briar

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thatswhatthepoetssay · 2 years

Text

Sunshine Boy Chapter 1

Franken Kyle Spencer X Reader

Word count: 806

Summery: A typical story of girl meets boy…and maybe some trouble along the way.

——————————————————————————

When we are young we are told stories of magical castles, brave knights, and evil witches.

As I step through the doors of Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, I can feel the sweat starting to build on the palms of my hands. After the meeting with the headmistress, I have some time to explore my new home.

The portraits of previous supremes stand out on the snow-colored walls.

They look so poised and solemn, not a single smile in sight, how peculiar.

“Hey, you’re the new girl right?”Asks the brunette-haired girl.

I’m the new girl at a school for witches..right.

“Yeah actually, I just got here a few hours ago” I answer hoping to sound as nice as possible.

“Alright then follow me, you will be bunking with me and Madison.” She says as starts to walk up the curved stairs.

——————————————————————————

By sunset, I knew all of the necessary schedules, routines, and even picked up on some gossip.

After asking the girl from earlier, whose name turned out to be Zoe, for directions to the bathroom. I grabbed my things and headed toward what I thought was the correct room.

Upon entering the thought-to-be bathroom I quickly realized that it was a bedroom.

I'm instantly met with a pair of brown eyes that carry a confused expression. To my surprise, they belong to a boy with sun-colored hair.

Isn’t this supposed to be an academy for “exceptional young ladies”?

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to barge in, I was looking for the bathroom.” I explain while looking at him. Instead of replying he simply gets up and cautiously walks over to where I’m standing.

As he stands in front of me with confusion written all over his face, I see someone walking toward the room.

“Oh hi YN, I thought you were going to the bathroom?” Says Zoe as she walks through the doorway.

“Yeah I was trying to find it, but ended up here.. who’s this by the way” I eye the blonde boy in-font of me.

——————————————————————————

After Zoe’s quick explanation, I turn back to who now is known to be Kyle.

“Well Kyle my name is YN, I’m new, sorry again for barg-“ Before I could finish my sentence Kyle raises one of his hands and gently places it on the side of my cheek. Zoe quickly moves his hand away while telling him that he shouldn’t do that.

That was an oddly comforting way to say “hello.”

“Um well I guess I’ll just go now, sorry again” I quickly add as I walk out into the hallway.

——————————————————————————

The following morning instead of waking up to see my new roommates, I woke up to see a note placed on my bedside table.

“Cordelia needed us to get some supplies so we are going to be out for a bit. Would you mind bringing some breakfast over to Kyles's room? Sorry for being a bother, Zoe. Ps: There are pancakes on the counter:)”

After reading the note I quickly get dressed and head downstairs to get some food for myself and Kyle.

“Kyle? Its YN. Is it okay if I come in? I brought some food.” I say as I slightly open the door. As soon as I come into the bedroom I immediately spot Kyle sitting on the floor with some sort of cards all around him.

“F..ood?” He questions as I sit down setting the breakfast tray in front of him.

“Yeah food, there are chocolate chip pancakes today!” I reply while taking a pancake from the stack.

His eyes immediately light up as he reaches for the plate. His face scrunches up in concentration as he pours the syrup on his pancake.

Something about his golden locks falling onto his face makes me want to just reach up and brush them away.

“So Kyle.. how long have you been here?” I ask while taking a sip of my coffee.

He looks at me and starts to try to communicate his thoughts. After a few seconds, he lets out an irritated puff and buries his face in his hands.

“Hey it's okay-“ I try to calm him down by placing a hand on his shoulder “- take your time.”

At that, he raises his head and lets out a small whine. He looks so exhausted, his eyes have a tear-like sheen and his lips are formed into a frown.

“St..uu..upid” He mumbles as he points his pointer finger at his chest.

“I know you’re not Kyle. You’re not stupid, okay?” I say while giving him a small smile.

Immediately I am engulfed in a tight hug. His arms wrap around me and his head goes to rest on my shoulder. After a few seconds, my hands start to stroke his hair in a soothing matter.

——————————————————————————

PS Whenever I post Chapter 2 It will be A-LOT longer. In the meantime I will be posting different Ahs stories, one-shots, and requests. Im currently working on a Tate Langdon one that will be posted in a few days! Lmk if you guys have any requests for future stories :)

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ghost-in-the-hella · 2 years

Photo

Some heavily implied pricefield for Flufftober’s day 30 prompt: “Dear Diary.” Yes, I contemplated covering it with ridiculous stickers that don’t necessarily match the vibe like Max’s diary in canon, but it was too much of a pain.

[Image ID: Digital drawing that mimics the style of Max Caulfield's diary in Life is Strange season 1. It features a line drawing of Chloe Price laying on her stomach, apparently naked but tastefully covered by a sheet wrapped around her waist. Her hair is rendered in watercolor splotches of blue and purple. Text in Max's in-game handwriting reads: "October 30. Dear Diary... So... Um. Yeah. So that happened."]

#flufftober #flufftober2022 #flufftober 2022 #flufftober22 #flufftober 22 #pricefield #chloe price #max caulfield #life is strange #fanart #ghost draws #implied nudity #tw nudity

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boldlyinnocent317 · 2 years

Text

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Found' and @flufftober day 8 prompt 'Shooting Stars'

~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco examined the book in his hands with an unsettling curiosity.

It was like the worn hard bind cover with rusted metal tipped corners was desperately trying to attach itself to his clammy skin.

Something in him was oddly afraid of lifting the cover and seeing the pages. As if a key would slip from between the pages unlocking something he knew he wasn’t ready to accept yet.

He turned and gave Harry Potter a veiled glance over at the crimson sofa by the fireplace.

He frowned.

Without a conscious thought, his head snapped towards the window to see if it was snowing. It wasn’t. Why wasn’t it? Why should it? It was October, after all.

A star shot across the sky instead, leaving a glittery wisp behind that vanished in a blink of his unfocused eyes.

.....It had been snowing…..then....

Then? …..When? ….What.....

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Potter asked, turning away from the window from where he’d come to stand and took a sip from his cup of cocoa.

Draco suddenly craved a cup of cocoa too.

Draco, however, never asked for things from Potter. Why should he? He was imposing as it is despite Potter always telling him that he wasn't imposing; ‘don't be ridiculous, it's your home too, isn't it?’

Potter gently took the book from his hands and smiled when he looked at the title on its spine. He looked up and Draco, like ever since he had come back from the hospital, tried not to stare too deep into those piercing green eyes. It was difficult not to and he often failed much to his displeasure.

"Find Me" Harry read in a soft voice, letting his thumb stroke the fading title on the cracked spine.

Pott - Harry had a nice voice, Draco had noticed during his time here; deep and smooth during day and low and silky at night.

And something inside him wanted to hear more of it, more of this book which he was scared to open himself but that beckoned him with all its frayed pages and maybe set aside his pride and also ask for that cup of cocoa he so wished to drink while sitting on that plush sofa with crayon scribbling under the warmth of the fireplace with its coral red brick work and the beige rug with soot spots and the cinnamon candles that never ran out and perhaps - perhaps Harry.

Harry......

"Harry."

Draco had no idea why he had just blurted out the other man's name out of nowhere.

So he quickly added, "I'd like that. The book I mean, if you want that is."

Harry blinked for a second, his lips parting, then slowly turned to look out of the window with eyes just slightly wide if you looked close enough – which Draco always ended up doing - before facing Draco back again.

And Harry's face glowed under the soft shimmer of the fireplace as he, all at once, grinned one of his wide, bright grins that made the glasses on the bridge of his nose shift up with his flushed cheeks.

Draco immediately received a cheerful, "of course!" and aah, the hot mug with steaming cocoa, the mug that had a crooked creature printed on it which looked a mix between a dragon and a peacock. It was somewhat creepy but Draco was getting used to it.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the snow.

“To me it proves that life and time are not in sync.....” Harry began to read from a dog-eared page and yeah, Draco could definitely wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ik I'm late for the day 8 prompt but i was waiting for the right inspiration and it came! the last line that Harry reads is directly taken from the novel Find Me by Andre Aciman. And the title is also a phrase from there. I've been reading this amazingly moving novel currently and I simply simply had to incorporate it here for this. So I indulged myself :p

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco/harry #harry/draco #microfic #rating: unrated #@drarrymicrofic #@flufftober2022 #day 8 #prompt #Harry Potter fandom #harry potter fandom #all mistakes are my own #drarrymicrofic #boldlyinnocent317 #my writing #CW:Memory loss #bi317writes

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greymoonfeelings · 2 years

Text

flufftober day 20: bedtime stories

pairing: hangster x fem!reader

word count: 980

warnings: poly relationship, kissing

•••

You kick off your shoes at the entryway, not bothering to check where they land. You’re too tired to put your things away where they belong and while you know you’ll regret that tomorrow morning when you’re anxiously searching for your keys, you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

“Sweets, is that you? You’re home late.” Your boyfriend, Jake, calls from the kitchen.

“No, it’s a robber and I’m here to rob you.”

“That’s a shame. If you were my girlfriend I was going to offer you some pasta, but if you’re a robber I’ll have to knock you out.”

“I think you’re girlfriend would appreciate a nice knockout too. Take me away from this cruel cruel world.” You answer back, heading towards the room where his voice was coming from.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

You shake your head. “I just want to forget about it for now.”

“Let’s see if I can help you with that, baby.”

“Where’s B?”

“Planning his lesson for tomorrow, he’ll be home soon. Why don’t you sit on the couch and relax while I finish the food.”

You obey, shuffling over to the worn brown couch. You flip through the channels on the tv before landing on the 31 days of Halloween program. The movie of the hour: Beetlejuice. Not before long, Jake comes over with two bowls of his “famous” Tuscan chicken pasta. It was his famous dish simply because it was the only thing he could make without burning the house down, cooking was more of Bradley’s forte.

“Here you go, princess.” Jake hands you a bowl, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking a seat next to you. The two of you sit, enjoying the movie with dinner as you wait for your other partner to come home.

A half-hour later, Bradley finally arrives home, yelling down the hallway to make his presence known. He enters the living room to find you and Jake cuddled up on the couch. You’re sitting on his lap with your head in his neck and his strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Hey, babe. There's some pasta left if you haven’t eaten. We’re watching Beetlejuice.”

Bradley nods in acknowledgment, but his focus is on your sad demeanor. You’re looking up at his with soft eyes, the kind that say “wrap me up in your arms and take me away forever”.

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” His voice is soft as he comes to caress your cheek.

“Bad day,” you shrug.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Some ice cream?” You look up at hopefully.

He gives you a loving smile, “Anything for my girl.”

Bradley returns with a bowl of your favorite ice cream, topped with everything you love. He feeds it to you as if you were incapable of doing it for yourself, but it's his way of taking care of you.

“Gimmie some.” Jake holds his mouth open waiting for his boyfriend to spoon him some.

“No, it’s not for you.”

“You don’t mind if I have some, do you, sugar?” You shake your head. “See?”

Bradley rolls his eyes before shoveling some into his boyfriend’s mouth, making sure to smear some all over his chin unbeknownst to Jake. You laugh out loud causing Bradley to share a smile with you.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Jakey.” You mutter before wiping his chin with your thumb and licking it clean.

The three of you finish the movie and decide it’s time to get ready for bed. Jake carries you to the bedroom, helping you into your pajamas, a tank top and a pair of fuzzy bottoms with llamas on them. You move to the bathroom to brush your teeth alongside Bradley. He wraps you in his arms, watching you in the mirror with a loving expression on his face. When you’re finished, he carries you out and playfully throws you onto the bed.

Bradley picks up Pride and Prejudice off the nightstand, recently you’ve been reading books together as a way to wind down before bed. He joins you in the bed, propping himself up against the headboard.

“Are you feeling any better, pretty girl?”

You smile up at him, “Always when I’m with you.”

Your boyfriend kisses you. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.”

“Hey! Where’s my love?” Jake pouts as he climbs into bed on the other side of you.

You turn to give your other boyfriend a sweet peck on the lips. “I love you, Jake.”

“Damn straight, baby girl.” Your boyfriend pulls you back in for a deeper kiss.

“I love you, Jakey.” Bradley teases, puckering his lips dramatically for his boyfriend.

“Fuck off, Bradshaw.” Jake grabs his boyfriend by the neck, pulling him in for a loving kiss. Bradley hums in satisfaction, knowing that his usual tricks of getting on Jake’s nerves still have the desired effect even after a year of dating.

You settle against Bradley’s chest again, getting comfortable between the two men. Jake’s nose presses into the grey cotton of his boyfriend’s t-shirt, inhaling the fresh scent of laundry detergent. He presses a soft kiss on Bradley’s shoulder before laying his head on it.

Bradley’s deep voice flows through the room, reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to his lovers. Jake rubs your back, soothing you after your long day. As you drift to sleep you can’t help but be filled with warmth and love. These two men cared for you so much and being with them made all of your troubles melt away. With them by your side, you knew you could make it through anything.

#heather writes #flufftober2022 #flufftober day 20 #tgm fanfic #hangster x reader #hangster fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader x bradley bradshaw

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when-wolves-howl · 2 years

Text

Can't Fight The Moonlight

Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: Feelings are revealed

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Haven't written in a while. Inspiration struck and this happened. I'll get back to Resurrection soon. I am using the taglist for that series though.

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours*

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As she leaned against the railing of the porch, you noticed how the moonlight illuminated her porcelain skin. Even the moon knew she was beautiful. What you knew, was that she had thought that no one had noticed but in a house of Shield agents, spies, ex assassins and super soldiers, someone was bound to notice. But it seemed like you were the only one who did. Everyone else was enjoying the party. You always notice her. You watched as she tightened her cardigan around herself, the chill in the air taking a visible effect.

Politely removing Natasha's arm from yours, her eyebrow raised in question to your movement. You nodded your head to the window, pointing out the only other redhead at the party. Natasha grins and winks at you, subtly pushing you towards the front door. You feign annoyance with an eye roll but follow Nat's silent instruction.

As you manoeuvred your way through the crowd, a strong hand upon your shoulder stops you in your tracks. Luckily for you, the super soldier serum that Bucky was forced to inject into you, still poisons your veins, so the rough grip takes no effect on you. However, the serum doesn't stop the irksome voice that follows your pit stop.

"Have you seen Wanda? I've been looking for her everywhere," Simon asks, disappointed as he scanned the room. Not wanting to out her, you pointed in the opposite direction.

"I think I saw her head to the garage for more wine," you replied convincingly. A tight lipped smiled followed your answer and Simon disappears as quickly as he appeared. That was your cue to quickly head to the door, making sure to grab your coat on the way out.

As you step onto the porch, the crisp fall air fills your lungs with a new breath. But the sight of the red head, warms everything else in your body. Your silent steps bring you closer to the shivering witch, your eyes never straying from her face as she stares up at the stars. When you reach her, you place your coat over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers. She turns to look at you, her eyes glistening from the star lit sky. She wraps your coat around herself and offers a small smile.

You swallow the lump in your throat, only just now noticing how nervous you are. You stay silent and instead offer your hand for her to take, which she does so instantly. You lead her off the porch, across the yard and to a seat that overlooks the acres of land that Clint and his family call home. The moonlight allows you to bask in the ambience of what a 'normal' life could look like. It's a beautiful sight. But nothing compared to the woman who takes a seat next to you, who still holds your hand. After a moment, Wanda speaks.

"I've always wanted this." She gestures to the view before you. "But I'm not sure that it's in the cards for me anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't have a normal life like this. I'm not normal and I never will be. I can't have this," Wanda protests. You know she think she's a monster. You think of her as anything but. You can see the weight of the world weighing on her shoulders. You just wanted to help her carry it.

"Yes, you can," you assure her.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you deserve it. Maybe more than any of us. I'm not normal either. I don't think I ever will be, but I know I also want this kind of life. Eventually. You've just got to reach out and take it." Wanda sighs sadly and your heart breaks for the woman who think she doesn't deserve good things. You spend the rest of your life trying to give her these things. If she let you.

"I tried to be normal. Do what normal people do. That's why I said yes to being Simon's date tonight. I just wanted to feel like a normal girl who was being asked out by a nice guy."

"But?" you ask cautiously.

"But he kissed me tonight. It just felt so wrong."

"Why?" You ask once again. Trying to hide your jealousy.

I haven't quite put my finger on the reason yet." Wanda answers teasingly. You don't notice her tone or the glint in her eye.

"Wanda. I know in my heart that you deserve this. All of it. You deserved to be kissed everywhere. In the corner of jazz clubs. On the shores of beaches with your toes dipped in sea. On the sidewalks of cities that show you in fall leaves. In the aisles of libraries, surrounded by the most beautiful literature. In the halls of art galleries, where the only thing more beautiful than the art is you. In the back rows of movie theatres that only feature black and white films. On the balconies of buildings in foreign countries. Sitting on the lap of the person you love., talking about anything and everything. But only with the right person," you blurted out, your eyes widening at your outburst.

"Who would be the right person then Y/N?" Wanda asked curiously, her eyes boring into the side of your head. You hadn't looked in the eye yet.

You shrugged in response, too nervous to talk. Wanda rose from her seat and let go of your hand. You mentally scold yourself for being so abrupt with her, not wanting to ever make her feel uncomfortable. She instead, took a place in your lap, her arms encasing around your shoulders. Before you could weakly protest, Wanda presses her lips softly against yours. You immediately brought your arms around her waist and brought her body closer to you. Sharing body heat with Wanda was an amazing feeling, but when you feel Wanda slide her tongue into your mouth, you'd happily give her all the warmth your body has to keep her in your arms. A soft moan from you makes Wanda pull away but you chase her lips. She breaks into a smile but asks you a question.

"Why haven't you told me yet?" she whispers into your mouth, her forehead resting against yours.

"Told you what?"

"That you're in love with me?" Your blood runs cold but only for a moment. Wanda somehow brings you closer without your lips touching. She's just looking for an honest answer. You sigh heavily, wanting to give her anything she asks for. You close your eyes when you feel her hot breath on your lips.

"I'm scared that you won't love me back. How did you know?" It's Wanda’s heart that breaks this time. She places her finger under your chin and makes you meet her eyes.

"That speech you just gave told me everything. Plus, you think you're subtle, but the lingering stares were no longer lingering. How long have you been in love with me?"

The first time we sparred, and you punched me in the face. I was a goner," you say with a giggle that Wanda shares with you. She kisses you quickly but thenpulls back with a frown.

"I need you to know that I'm not quite there yet. My feelings for you are true. But I just don't think I've allowed myself to explore them properly. You've always been so kind and caring towards me and that's when it started for me. But if you just give me some time and more of those kisses, I know it won't take me long. I'm still just trying to figure myself out, but I want you there when I do." You cup her cheek in response and feel her lean into it. Your stomach flips at the private moment you're sharing with her. Her stare is so intense that you know she's telling the truth.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise her. This wasn't what you were looking for when you joined her tonight. You just didn't want her to be alone. Wanda stands up from your lap and holds out her hand. You take it and intertwine your fingers together. She begins to lead you back to the house when she stops and turns back to you.

"Wait. What about you and Nat? I saw you two inside earlier. It looked like she was all over you," You just laugh at Wanda's insinuation, but she lightly slaps your arms. You hold your hands up in surrender.

"Me and Nat? No way. I was just holding her up because she's wasted."

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Taglist

@inlovewithfaberry @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @nr-enthusiast @kermy48 @whhyyynottt

@sherlockstrangewolf @the-camilucha @lorsstar1st @maximoffwitch @thefoxandthepenguine

@holiday-house-of-m @poptartpoppyy @blackxwidowsxwife @snowdrop1026 @afuckingshituniverse

@snowtrova @wildnightuniverse @lainjupi @d14n4ol @fayhar

@a-laufeyson @pawiie @lizlikespoems @rainbowmess-blog @jedi-luca @mrswidowjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @me-uglypretty @ninaahs @iliketozoneout @mmmmokdok @fxckmiup @diaryoflife @sayah13 @thought-of-you-and-me @messedupfan

@how-to-disappearr

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda fanfic #marvel fan fiction #flufftober2022

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dixonlvr-online · 2 years

Text

Kiss the cook

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: Swear words

Genre: Fluff

Challenge: Breaking bones / Secret family recipe @flufftober / "I don't want you to do that."

A/N: THIS GIF!!! THIS SCENE!!! I lose my mind

Daryl was a mess in the kitchen, but you were having a great time watching him.

The two of you were a sight: big, burly, tough guy running around the kitchen with his hands full, trying to stir at the same he chopped. You, on the other hand, were lounging at the kitchen table, chin resting on your hand, smiling gently at his movements.

In one fluid motion, he dropped both a towel and the spoon he’d been stirring with. He cursed, reaching for them, only to bump his head on the oven handle. You stifled a laugh.

It’s not that you enjoyed his torment, but he’d been so insistent on cooking for you tonight, you had to have your fun.

“Need some help?” you asked, laughing at the glare he shot you.

“Nah,” he said, throwing the dirty spoon in the sink and grabbing another. You stood from your spot, needing to catch a glimpse at the dish he was making. You shuffled up next to him and leaned over, studying the concoction in the pot. It was brown, and thick, and bubbling…

“What…is this?” you asked gently. Daryl groaned.

“None of yer business, woman. Secret family recipe. Now get out of my kitchen,” he scolded, playfully swatting you with a towel. You giggled, running away from him.

Daryl stole one last meaningful glance at the food before him, the mess he’d created in the kitchen, and you, looking adorable at his side. He switched off the stove, emptying his hands of cooking utensils.

You shot him a confused look, but within moments he’d pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground and swinging you through the air. Your laughter was uncontrollable, the surprise and joy of the moment overtaking you.

“Daryl! Daryl! What are you doing?” you laughed, prompting him to set you down. He grinned back at you, enjoying the dazed look on your face and the sound of your breathless laughter.

“Ain’t cookin’ no more. It’s shit anyway. Let’s skip dinner tonight,” he said. You bit your lip.

“And do what instead?” you asked, already looking him up and down. He pulled you closer, resting his hands on your hips. The two of you were dangerously close now, and all urges to laugh were replaced with a low burning sensation throughout your body.

“I can think of a few things,” he said, and then he was kissing you. You reached for his face, pulling him impossibly closer. His grip on your waist tightened, sinking into you, drinking in every ounce of your figure.

You paused to breathe, leaning your forehead against his. Gasping for air, you leaned in to press a swift kiss to his cheek.

“Honey, I’m starving," you whispered. Daryl shook his head, smiling at your comment. Swiftly, he pulled you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Me too," he growled, and placed you on the counter...

#flufftober2022 #flufftober #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #twd #norman reedus

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cherri--soda · 2 years

Photo

oops he got tangled in fairy lights

DCAtober 6- silent sunny ,, flufftober 6- fairy lights

#sundrop #sundrop fnaf #sb sun #sb sundrop #fnaf security breach #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #dca inktober #flufftober2022 #flufftober #fnaf

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bogusboxed · 7 months

Text

Boxtobier ⊗ Day 2

"The Big Picture.”

Pairing: Helen Otis X GN!Reader

Theme: “Forbidden Love." & "Family, Friends, Love Ones."

Rating: (PG-15+)

Words: 6k

Trigger Warning(s): Brief Vulgar Language, Minor Mentions Of Criminal Deviance, Depictions Of Gore, and Psychological Disturbance.

This is recommended for ages fifteen and up; reader discretion is advised. The rights to this character, "Bloody Painter," fully belong to DeluCat.

This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.

Tom E. Stevens is not a real person, he's fully fictional and only serves as a reference from Bloody Painter’s original story. Any correlation to real victims is NOT intentional.

The breeze was glacial against your warm-blooded skin; it bit your nose with a numbing sharpness. You should’ve worn more layers in this type of climate, but you were in a hurry, which led to skipping a few steps in your typical routine.

Your brass keys jingled around like golden bells attached to a decorative holiday ribbon. They created an off-putting metronome sound when they clattered viciously against the steel buckle.

Your mind adapted to the noise, senselessly focusing on the sparkly ring. But, still, you pulled yourself from it, fighting it.

You tried your best to keep your head straight by prioritizing the need to reach the building because only the vultures knew how dangerous this line of work could be.

You couldn't help but question your choices from months ago because if you knew what you know now, you wouldn’t have signed up for that internship.

Working tirelessly alongside the forensic department had taken a toll on your health unlike anything else. Currently, your body felt like shit, as if every limb had been yanked from its socket, resembling the way taffy is stretched beyond recognition.

You stiffly shifted your back, feeling the aches rise and fall in an agonizing unorganized harmony. You let out a bottomless exhale, the puff of warmth diffusing in the tempered winds.

You hated clocking in earlier than what was ordered, but you also knew the piles of work they had planned out for you. So it’d just be better to get it over with at dawn and have plenty of "free time" during the day.

However, yesterday, you hadn’t been as clever and had to fight the collisions of cars. What was even worse than that was the fact you came in late, barely having the proper time to study the files.

But what was weirder was the number of cases.

Over the months, winter had finally broken out, and when it did, so did the bodies. They practically doubled in the short time frame, heightening, unlike any other season.

But it wasn’t anything you could control; you could only try to prevent it.

It was bleak; your fingers felt lifeless, suffering from the hazardously low temperatures. Your lungs were repressed, taking subtle amounts of polar oxygen inward.

Breathing seemed to only bring a sub-zero chill, dulling your system in a torturous manner.

Your watery eyes caught a detailed glimpse of the illuminated station a few meters away from you. Uniform glass windows lined the front. Icy white spiderwebs seemed to dust the rims, only having the middle of each glass plane defrosted.

The light beige building was around two stories high and was more expansive than a typical station due to housing an accompanying forensic department.

You tilted your head at the closer police cars, which were lined right at the front. The vehicles were predominantly white, marked with bold and contrasting black and blue stripes running along their sides.

A tinge of envy surged through your veins, with the wish you didn’t have an entire marathon to walk each time you went to work. Passing the oversized rides, you followed the guiding light closer to the department.

Powdery snow crunched under your soles, compacting with each movement. Every step sounded high-pitched, squeaking like a dog toy. The wintery molecules had recently fallen, barely printed on by animals or other people.

Unfortunately, though, you were leaving tracks with the way you moved your figure.

You didn’t feel secure being this out in the open, especially with the surrounding area’s reputation. A warm light glowed from the windows, refracting onto the concrete sidewalk you walked on.

Safety was near.

You should’ve been more attentive to your surroundings instead of beelining it straight to base. But you’d rather speed up than patiently get hypothermia from the Alaskan air.

Moving your weight at a timely pace, you soon made quick work of the built-in parking lot. But it wasn’t just the Fahrenheit that made you move this way; it was the added pressure of the latest murders.

The fresh kills from the man on the loose—his existence was blowing up on the internet. Hundreds were prying at the case, no matter how much your local department tried to keep it under wraps.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for some thirsty news articles to try to dig too deep. But this instance was different because the officials knew he stayed in one spot, and they didn't need the public to scare him off to another city.

However, in your personal opinion, he’d gotten worse. Not in the way he became clumsier, but in the way he’d gotten smarter. Because now he was starting to grasp the concept of covering up his tracks.

For the past three months, you've seen multiple carcasses.

It wasn’t anything new to see animalistic amounts of chewed-out corpses daily. But these recently submitted physiques always had one horrifying thing in common with one another.

An extended incision two inches right below the jaw.

The likeness of each mark always left an abyssal pang in the roots of your abdomen. Forcing you to churn and gush profusely, like all your acids had come together to form a nauseating butter.

Though it wasn’t like you weren’t prepared for this, you’d trained for months in college, studying what you could. Because essentially, you had sold your soul to the corporations. So in your mind, it was for the best to just stay reticent about your discomfort.

But, still. The imagery of the wounds was haunting. You were sure that if you were asked to recall how the incision appeared, you’d have no trouble.

Because the cut was always the same.

Why did it have to be the same every fucking time, and why couldn’t you get used to it? It was just a slice above the collarbone and below the human mandible.

It wasn’t like their head had been blown to bits.

The repetition, however, was appalling. You couldn’t accept that someone out there liked the fluency and the never-ending pattern left. Did they know how it kept you up at night? Could they ever reflect on how personal each cut felt?

Did they even have the capacity to comprehend the hole they left in the lives of those they harmed? Or maybe this is what they wanted. To make others feel like shit?

You just wished the mercy of the world could spare you and take away this aching remorse. You exhaled, the weight of your thoughts having the same drag of an anchor.

It was difficult to be at ease, though the closure you brought to families seemed to help.

Your dense shoes felt like they were grating against the battered concrete. Every simple scrape seemed ten times more deafening than it was. To say you were on edge would’ve been a heinous understatement.

You kept your digits stuffed in your layered pockets, no longer wanting to contend with the arctic currents. You felt your body at work, trying its best to keep you thawed and snugly toasted.

With preferable timing, you had finally completed your route.

You could feel a different torridity, leaving the parking lot unscathed. Swiftly, you began your brief climb up the compressed staircase.

You swore you didn’t need the handrails, forcing your figure to prance up the case without the added support. In the back of your mind, you knew that if you clutched onto them, you’d only get frostbite or an open, rusty lesion on your palm.

Following the gleaming lights, you hunted down the entrance of the building.

Pastry beige walls and reflective, frosted-tipped windows made most of your peripherals. Your eyes devoured the sight with the knowledge that you wanted nothing else but to be inside.

Silently, you merged, heading to the entrance of the department.

Your plush, silky lanyard bounced with each quick action, and in no time, you found yourself standing in front of the lackluster glass door. Your heated breath fogged up the float glass while you humanly debated whether or not to doodle shapes on the surface.

But you unwillingly compelled yourself to move on to more pressing matters. After a few seconds of inner turmoil, you begrudgingly retracted your hands from your fleece cavities. With your balmy clutches, you invaded the sleek metal door handle.

With an unenthusiastic heave, you hauled open the burdensome door.

A flushed breeze tenderly nuzzled your visage, completely changing your groggy attitude that’d grown from the bitterness of the cold. Taking a few unnoticeable steps inward, you let go of the door.

The heft of the gate automatically sealed the space back up, enclosing the heat from the ruthless outside.

You had no more icy waves to come crashing down on you. So, you felt the lack of need to shield your skin; taking a brief gluttonous puff of well-tempered air, you could faintly taste the macchiato that was lingering.

The smell felt almost stereotypical in the way it reverberated off each wall. You hated to admit just how many of those movies were right about the police.

Getting back on target, you looked around the foyer, and as always, it wasn’t anything special. The room was semi-upper-class, having fancy connecting hallways, an undersized reception desk, and a cramped, cheap waiting room.

Along the barren, pale walls lay a handful of plastic chairs, a box for dropping off prescription drugs, and overly artificial plants. The department strived to make the place look as welcoming as possible, but it mostly came off as out of touch and condescending.

Turning your attention to the cut-off front desk, you saw a distant coworker. Her face was slim, enhanced with sculpture-like features. A rich mixed skin tone painted her and only brightened her overall beautiful complexion.

However, what stood out most was her blinding, superstitious golden badge titling her "Lt Sara."

She currently seemed to be diligently managing inquiries and various calls. Though you’d heard various rumors of what she did before, she joined the department. (Something along the lines of British special forces?)

A dense panel of plexiglass seemed to cage the mid-toned operator inside. She didn’t pay you much mind, keeping to herself; her rich, murky eyes seemed to be glued to her rather expensive work-issued laptop.

You decided not to put your nose where it didn’t belong, ignoring your deepening innocence to ask what she was typing.

Taking a few fleeting steps toward your branch, pitter-patter-like footsteps began to tap throughout the once-muted room. Humbly walking, you were perceptive to the irritating buzzing of the incandescent lightbulb above.

Management should’ve changed it out weeks ago upon regulation, but who could arrest literal law enforcement?

Step by step, the stillness of the fruitless office was betrayed by the sound of parroting taps. The department seemed desolate and liminal in the sense that you were the only one creating any commotion.

It was almost uncanny how much the towering walls were devoid of life.

You kept your posture professional, keeping an unrushed pace down the enclosed hallway. Neutral-colored file cabinets were mindlessly lined, seeming to camouflage with the chipped beige wall. You took your regulated turns, passing by the same identifiable tables, worn-out navy chairs, and other miscellaneous decor.

You could feel a slight burning sensation in your nose, probably caused by the over-the-top cleaning supplies the facility always used.

You wordlessly questioned the janitors on why they put their entire heart into their job, but you only found yourself wishing you could have the same enthusiasm as them.

Your shoes clicked on the polished, stony-colored tiles as your eyes traced down the doors carved on either side. You glazed over multiple shiny labels, all too familiar to you at this point.

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times you’d seen these signs. The time you spent here seemed to blur together at this point.

Who knew an internship could be this catastrophic?

The walls only seemed to bring you closer and closer to your destination, with every ridge of the painted-over brick wall now recognizable. Pursuing your common area, the doors began to seem to become more robust and excessive compared to the previous.

However, it wasn’t anything too shocking given that all the information locked inside those rooms was highly sought after. However, what was surprising was that interns (college kids) had access to some pretty sensitive records.

Speaking of your rookie classmates, they unfortunately recruited yet another intern, and worse, they were assigned to sit right next to you. Funnily enough, that was one of the reasons you got here so early.

As of right now, your desk looked like the result of a hurricane, and it didn’t help that you used the once-vacant desk next to you for storage. You internally cringed, caught up in the swirly emotion that’d be their initial impression of you.

You let out a swallow exhale upon recollection. Hopefully, they weren’t going to be the verbal bane of your existence, pestering you with lackluster questions all year.

Focusing once more, you reached for your silky, smooth lanyard. Fingers fumbled looking for your QR code identification card, given with the lowest human access possible.

You slouched downward, folding yourself. You took the sturdy card and pressed it against the laser sensor. Having pressed the densely laminated plastic against the puny square-shaped metal box, the door made a short beep.

Your hands briskly moved to the glistening door handle, now heaving it down with no resistance. A click came from the frame, letting you know the hardened lock had finally released its restless hold.

Soon, you wedged yourself inside the room, shutting the high-tech door behind you with a thunderous thump. Luminous fluorescent lighting helped to display the expansive classroom.

The space featured a variety of lengthy, soulless desks, placed as close as they could be to one another. While accompanying cheap plastic chairs were uniformly paired underneath each table. Files seemed to be anchored in stacks close to the windows, which were curtained by opaque sheets.

It was almost childish the amount of priceless work just lazily left out. Your eyes scanned the trivial room again, passing various foreign areas until you shadowed your own.

You paused.

Nothing was missing, and that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the man nonchalantly working between the brochures you left on your previous shift, and if things couldn’t get worse, you recognized him.

This wasn’t just any typical guy, however. This was the college’s award-winning artist, Helen Otis. (Someone whom you found yourself admiring a little too much.)

You’d seen his works plenty of times, each one better than the last. You didn’t know how many art competition trophies he had tucked under his belt, and you didn't know how he had so much room for them.

Sweat was building under your metaphoric shirt collar, leaving you wanting to pull it like a cartoon character. Out of everybody, why'd it have to be him? However, even with the distaste bubbling in your mouth, you could still sense a puppy-like heart race thumping in your chest.

During the years you’d been in school with him, he’d always been a recluse. He had never been the type to do a vast presentation or be among big social groups. But he had been the art kid, inaudibly crafting away in a scenic spot where no one would bother him.

Though it was still surprising, you’d never thought he would be the one to take up this line of work. You always thought he’d do something more along the lines of comical animation or abstract commissions.

But here he was at your doorstep, doing the same thing he always did: wordlessly painting strokes on a page.

Even though he wasn’t paying you any mind, you felt yourself appreciating his personal portrait. You knew neither of you had spoken to the other throughout your college years, but still, some idiotic part of you found his mysterious aura appealing.

From his murky ink tuft of hair to his cerulean stone-shaded eyes, all his facial features seem to drag you further like a fish to a hook, line, and sinker.

If your heart hadn’t been auctioned away for his looks already, his personality had to be the nail in the coffin. He was hushed and polite, always mindful of those around him with a tranquil gaze plastered on his face.

All these things combined made it unfathomable to wonder why he was in such a gruesome line of work. He never did seem capable of harm; at least that’s what you thought.

At the moment, you found yourself fixating on him more than you should’ve, promptly getting lured in by the bait of his serene features. But you hastily shut that down, making it imperative to keep it strictly professional.

All he was was your co-worker who incidentally resided right next to your seat, and it was no big deal; he was just a fresh hire, and that’s all these feelings were. (Keep telling yourself that.)

You shuffled yourself further in. Each step felt like a chain and cannonball attached to your ankle, dragging you down from getting any further. You took an unnoticeable puff before giving in to your sullen movements.

Your shoes barely squeaked on the flat, tiled flooring, efficiently making it to your spot. You did everything in your power to ignore him, which proved difficult when he was now in front of you. Though, thankfully, he didn’t seem to peer up from his current task.

You subtly began taking the diverse portfolios you abandoned the night before and neatly placing them in a lanky stack on your side. Cautiously, you continued to take back your leftovers, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions about your actions.

Luckily for you, each rustling you made was always covered by either a light tap or an oppressive rub back and forth. Pages of newer and older cases grazed your plushy palms as you needily grabbed them covertly.

The scent of vanilla seemed to leak out of the paper each time you ruffled it onto the stack. Your eyes tracked your borrowed files as you mindlessly counted their shared total.

Once you finally piled all of your belongings onto the corner of your desk, you seized a few files from the top, taking out an oh-so-familiar beige folder. Even with how flimsy the printer paper was, it still managed to send a falling sensation deep into your intestines.

Because the case inside had to be one of the most extreme and unsettling you'd seen in a while.

Taking a hasty breath outward, you knew you had a job to do, and you knew that involved making a move. Your emotions were all wack, both agitated by the folder and anxious by Helen.

But restlessly, you still made a move against the odds.

The chair creaked naturally under the sudden weight, adding even more layers to the need to die. You hate this feeling. You hated that the one person you found interest in was sitting this close to you.

You didn’t know why every breath you took felt like an arrow spearing your heart—was it him? Was it the case? Or was it a mix of both?

Being immobilized by gushy chords, the graphite scratching next to you came to a momentary halt before swiftly returning to its ordinary irregular pattern. The pause left a prickly ache and an immeasurable abyss in your soppy organs.

Snapping out of the abnormal haze, you made it mandatory to remember that, at the end of the day, this was an internship. A job that both of you didn't want, and if you did, neither of you intended to be sociable (specifically him).

You got back on track; your hands glided more rigorously on your pivotal file; delicately, you unfolded the restricted document. The folder had a presentation page, making it seem more personalized and human than it was.

In a blueish-black color, a jagged handwritten name embellished the originally empty soulless template.

“Tom E. (Enzo) Stevens.”

You found yourself drowning in thought on the marked page. He was relatively close in age to you, lived in the same area, and for an unbeknownst reason to you, that title rang a bell. You could’ve sworn you’d heard it before, but yet again, that name wasn’t all that unique.

In regards to his death, it was virtually the same as the rest of the victims. He had the staple of the slit two inches below his jaw, but instead of his corpse being on display for the world to see, he’d been shoved off the sixth floor of an apartment complex (that wasn’t too far from your college).

Tom’s death was rushed in comparison and was not nearly as time-intensive as the others. The report drew it down to the realization of eyewitnesses, and if he had taken any longer, the law would've caught up to him.

Interestingly enough, a few regular drunks had seen the man’s figure on the building minutes before the murder, and due to this, it caused his biggest slip-up yet.

Unfortunately, they all made a few vastly different statements, going from brown to blue hair, then to pale to dark skin.

But there happened to be one consistent variable: they said without a doubt he’d worn a paper-mache mask that'd been laced with a crimson grin.

Flipping the page, you are greeted with degraded photos of distinct items. Each object picture had mini-notes stapled underneath it, indicating what evidence was linked to it.

You examined each sunburnt print systematically, trying to find any correlation between them, but to no avail. You leafed pages. You spent more time thoroughly inspecting each discolored paragraph. Your glistening eyes traced each victim and the corresponding articles that died along with them.

You could feel the air trapped in your throat as you swallowed faintly. The similarities, the rate, and the age ran shivers up your spine.

You were more than a perfect candidate.

You were shaken up by the realization. Your breath was off its typical route; you prevailed and kept a stone-cold demeanor. The chances of you being caught and killed by the murderer were low, (but never zero).

You just had to be strong; you had to be for this field of work. No matter how your hands twitched, you needed to find that strength for the people who couldn’t.

Browsing through the thin pages, you could sense something was off. You were missing something from the case. You skimmed through the entire folder once more before you put your finger on it.

You were missing the composite drawings.

Your mind readily changed from the haunting cases to the fellow peer next to you. Inches away, and you’d get your answer, but you weren’t sure how to ask, considering he shouldn’t have been messing with that folder in the first place.

Your curiosity brushed itself against you like a cat; you needed to know if he had it before, you started to panic. It wasn’t like you were asking for a pencil you’d never return; you were asking for the missing drawings on a report.

This was serious, and you had to take it that way, no matter how accusing it felt. You turned from your desk to his. He smelled of graphite; its earthy and metallic aroma clouded up his station.

He seemed to be completely immersed in his work like he was in an altered reality of his own. The more seconds that flew by, the more you realized how lost in his artistry he was. You considered speaking up, not realizing he’d already noticed you in his peripherals.

As you began to open your mouth, he exhaled, stopping his precise charcoal brushing.

“Yes?”

He kept his voice conservative, not raising his tone above a whisper.

His digits remained intertwined with the slender soot utensils. He began to subtly tap at his wooden desk with the edge point like he was counting the seconds between each of your shared words.

Though he kept his face sharp and still, like an unmarked canvas.

“Do you know where the Bloody Painter composite drawings are? My folder seems to be missing them." You exhaled your words, trying to be as cushy as possible and not seem interrogative.

His melodic clicks ceased, and his clench on the pencil faltered. His pallid features stayed remote, trying to ignore the swift glint that glowed in his somber eyes.

“I took them from your file earlier this morning for reference. I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were confidential.” Tragically enough, you were unperceptive to the inflection in his voice.

He soon turned his wooden pencil horizontally, gently caressing the wood. He dotted his sea creature's eyes with yours. He seemed to search for yours like a pirate on a treasure-ridden island.

“You’re with forensic arts, right?” The second you began to speak, he retracted his vision back down to the smooth, polished floor.

He allowed the conversation to grow dry, mindlessly making his leg bounce his weight. “Mhm.”

You felt your chest being squeezed. You didn’t mean to mess up his art session, but you needed the composite drawings back before you could return the folder to the officials.

Your eyes traveled down from the side of his head, down to his triangular jaw, and then to the papers scattered on his side of the table. A certain sketch, however, stuck out to you; it varied in hues of charcoal and was dented with professional marks.

He looked around his late twenties, having semi-long strands of dark pecan hair framing his face. His eyes were dull, unlit with a murky, mud-like shade.

“Are those the composite drawings?”

An acute exhale came from his side as he now entirely rotated himself from his work to you. He didn’t keep his eyes locked on you, but he seemed more engaged, having a light rose tinted at the height of his cheeks.

He allowed the words to sink in: “Not exactly. They’re only my interpretation.”

You briefly hummed while he spoke, continuing to stare at his overly perfect works of art. It was immaculate. Of course, it didn’t compare much to the other pieces that he had full liberty over, but still, it was unbeatable.

“They look so good, though; you’re extremely talented,” you complimented, not knowing how your eyes sparkled when appreciating the craftsmanship.

Your words were more than honest and the exact thing you were thinking, but you hadn’t taken into account how he’d react to something like that. You silently huffed; he’d probably heard it a million times before, but you couldn’t help it.

Unannounced to you, he’d been gazing at you directly (for once) with no sign of retreat. Helen was taking in your eyes, and the way they glistened was full of reverence. He found himself soaking in it. He’d heard plenty of praise for his arts before, but the way you looked set the sail.

He’d need to sketch that later for better practice. He made some effort to take a detailed mental photo of it.

Stupidly enough, he stayed idly facing you, studying your features. Time passed easily, and you glanced back instinctively. He smoothly flicked his sight right back to his personal (inaccurate) composite drawing.

Unknown to him, his posture recoiled and formed an unhealthy "C," which was odd compared to his typical ruler-straight stance.

“Thank you," he gritted his teeth; like he was offended, the words even dared to come out of his mouth.

A smile found its way to your face. He was grateful that he enjoyed your appreciation, even with how passive-aggressive it seemed. You could see yourself becoming friends (or more) with Helen if he went any further with forensics.

You pulled away from your unusual lovey-dovey behavior, getting back on topic. “You do have the originals, right?”

He seemed taken aback, his once pensive expression leaving you. He tampered with his pencil; he pressed his fingers on the wood. His eyes now seemed fixated on a distant point.

He reformed his gentlemanly persona, trying not to lose concentration on the purpose of this conversation. “I do.”

You didn’t know what to make of his current wreck of emotions, but you decided he was just having a rough morning. Though you didn’t like how his interest fled again, you didn’t mention it, but you just wished he hadn’t deserted the conversation.

Helen moved his figure, reaching toward the feeble stack of paper centimeters away from him. His delicate fingers began flipping through assorted works and notes, trying to track down the originals.

The light of the class-like room reflected on his furrowed expression, highlighting his brow bone. The sound of rustling and separation seemed to recite throughout the room as you patiently waited for results.

He gradually made his way to an inked-out document, his facial features wavering.

You could see a darkly printed facade of someone’s face. It must’ve been the original, going on the new assumption that the department didn’t trust college students to not fuck with the authentic piece. Maybe they were fearful that they’d spill something on it or try to steal it to sell on eBay.

He assertively separated any remaining sticking papers before hastily handing you the official print.

You respectfully put on an artificial professional smile, being polite to the artist. As for rule-breaking, his decision was for unintentionally stealing the reprint; you decided against reporting him to the higher-ups.

He was passionate, with an amiable soul and a gullible desire to redraw composite drawings. Sure, he was naive, putting his nose where it didn’t belong, but you couldn’t fault him.

He was just an overzealous painter, and that was all.

Your sight indeliberately flocked back to his side, mindlessly trying to ensure yourself that you hadn’t forgotten anything else. You glanced over a few pencils, pens, and squishy erasers before seeing a different, tougher sheet of paper featuring a distinctive man's physique.

It was a spot-on illustration of the lengthy description you had received of the Tom S. case. Just how much had he looked into your assigned folder? The peculiar portrait could’ve been compared to his actual face; it was uncanny how close he’d gotten your mental image of Tom on paper.

“That’s a drawing of Tom, right? From Tom Steven's murder?” You found yourself intrigued more and more by his virtuosity.

You speculated on the time Helen had lost to etching out victims from the infamous “Bloody Painter” case. You understood he was a part of the forensics art department, but how much graphic painting could one take? Plus, it seemed out of character for him to drain his morning by willingly outlining something that gruesome.

There was a wordless pause as your eyes watched one of his knees buck up and down at a similar, relentless pace. You could feel a pit of solicitude gush in your lower abdomen as if you had crossed a line. That case must’ve struck a nerve, and having to draw the victim probably made the distaste in his throat more drastic.

He had a short, delayed response to your words, losing his energy to keep this chatter going. “Yeah.”

You tilted your head while studying the image’s graphics further. There seemed to be a vital mistake, leaving the drawing inaccurate and fruitless. While most of it had been on point, even having an abbreviated listing of how he was killed, Helen still managed to miss one important factor.

The constant marking, the slit that was supposed to be under his jaw

You wanted to keep it to yourself; you really did, but something in your soul ticked. You thought it over a few times, but it was futile as your compulsive behaviors made the words leak from your mouth.

“You forgot something. Bloody Painter left a laceration two inches under his jaw before pushing him off."

Like a magnet to a refrigerator, he snapped his sights back to his drawing. His neverending cavern of navy blue eyes thoroughly inspected his graphite marks. His salmon lips parted, charcoal eyebrows pressing against one another.

You knew it could’ve come off tedious and knit-picky, but you couldn’t help that nagging feeling that he’d appreciate your insight.

As you closed the space between you both to provide further aid on the unnecessary addon, he brought his attention to you. His dangerous mako eyes locked onto yours, making you feel stuck in an inescapable trance.

This was the first time he’d made eye contact with you.

He hummed one unnoticeable syllable that resembled a “hm” as he leaned an inch closer with the intent to absorb every word that came out of you. A clear indication of how deeply engaged he was.

Now that the spotlight and praise were on you, you couldn’t seem to do anything like a person getting stage fright in front of an impressive crowd.

You felt your body linger on autopilot. No person could handle this stimulation; at least that's what it felt like due to the chemicals pumping through your body. There was no need to react like this, but here you were at the mercy of his prestigious eyes.

Harboring and pleading your jittery breath away, you failed to take note of his defined hand nonchalantly creeping up on your mandible.

“Something like this?”

His pointer and middle were soon firmly planted against your flesh-covered artery. You could feel the pressure build on your sensitive throat, leaving a valley caused by his callous fingers. By this point, you were sure he could feel the way your pulse battered out of your chest.

The only solution to this was that he must’ve been a visual learner. That was the only viable explanation, but still, you found yourself warm to the touch. The air shared felt solid, palpable, and able to be cut.

But being so intertwined with your own cords of emotions, your brain glossed over the fact that he was pressed precisely where the killer always cut.

“Yeah, something like that." Your words fumbled over one another, not being able to tell if he could sense the tension he inadvertently created.

A mischievous smile was firmly tucked into his features. But before you could even pry into his preceding actions, a heightened beep buzzed from his pocket. He instantly backed his hand away from your neck, letting it rest on his thigh.

His light appearance was brought down by a sudden weight as he withdrew a slick gray phone. You caught a glimpse of the vibrating screen as he haphazardly let it ring.

"Masky. (Ignore if possible.)”

He huffed as his skinny face expeditiously contorted into a solemn deadpan. His leg went right back to a musically animated bounce before leaving your proximity.

He dragged the cellular device to his ear; his sight darted down to you with a velvety expression and whispered, "Sorry– I’ll be back.”

You reverted to your senses, getting back into gear. You affirmed him instantaneously with a nod. His mood was upended by your assuring movement as he departed from your shared space, heading for somewhere more secluded.

Once his presence dissipated, you fully accepted the circumstances. Your breath was still uneven, and you even felt way too comfortable in your once-itchy chair. Your flushed state progressively cleared up; however, you were still bubbly from the previous altercation.

Without much thought, your perception picked up on the Tom Stevens illustration once more. You didn’t notice it previously, but there was a creative liberty added to his special composite.

A tattoo. You didn’t recall the description ever stating he had an emblem on his collarbone.

Especially one with an O and an X.

Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)

Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)

Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342

A/N: It's been proofread :D

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