#Replacing the Key Cap

[theesterianempire]

Can't Sleep - Spencer Reid x Y/N

When no one's heard from Y/N in over a week the team begin to get worried so Spencer pays you a visit to find out what's going on.

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Taking Anti-Depressants

Word Count: 2124

Tick… tick… tick…

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

Tick… tick… tick…

You grab your phone from the night stand and stare at the blank screen wondering when the battery died.

Tick… tick… tick…

You drop the phone next to you and sigh, yet again.

Tick… tick… tick…

You stare at the ceiling.

It was a repetitive pattern you’d fallen into most nights.  Staring at the ceiling, staring at your dead phone, sighing heavily as sleep eluded you.  The ticking of the clock becoming the sound track to your sleepless nights.

You felt your stomach gurgle… when was the last time you’d eaten? Had it been today… yesterday… half an hour a go..? Time meant nothing to you now.

You should go and eat something, or at least drink some water because who knows when you last did that either.

But you couldn’t.  You couldn’t get up, you couldn’t leave, hell, you couldn’t even bring yourself to move that god forsaken ticking time bomb of a clock.  So instead, you just lay there, staring hopelessly at the ceiling.

You were so lost in your sleep deprived mind that you missed the knocking on the door, the sound of keys in the lock, the sound of footsteps getting ever closer to your room.

“Y/N?” A voice called, a voice you knew all to well, “Y/N..?”

You willed yourself to move, to acknowledge his presence but the energy was not there and simply begging your body to move was not enough.

The shadowy figure made its way into your eye line, looking down at you, right in front of you, yet you couldn’t make out any features.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” The figure loomed closer, “Y/N, I need you to respond, just a blink… Y/N?”

You could hear the worry mixed with a sense of calm composure due to needing to address the issue at hand.

You felt your eyelids flutter closed and open again.  It was an automatic response, really, but still the movement seemed to drain you further.

“Okay, Y/N, I’m going to sit you up.” The voice explained.

The next thing you knew you were being hauled into an up right position, propped up against a pillow you didn’t even know had been moved.

“I… I’m sorry…” You rasped through dry lips as the shadowy figure filled out to reveal Spencer sitting before you.

Spencer sighed, running a hand down his face. “…Y/N…”

Spencer stood up, disappearing from your sight for a moment, you wanted to watch him walk away but you couldn’t move, even if you wanted to… which you really did.  It didn’t matter though as not a minute later Spencer reappeared in your line of sight, a bottle of water in hand.

“You need to drink something,” He spoke softly as he unscrewed the cap and slowly brought it to your lips.

As the liquid passed your lips it felt so cold and so soothing on your tongue.  

Spencer made sure not to tip the bottle too much, just creating a steady enough stream of water to satisfy you but not too much that you’d choke.  You swallowed just a few mouthfuls when Spencer slowly moved the bottle away from you, replacing the cap and putting it on the night stand next to you.

“Y/N…” His eyes looked at you with concern and pity, “What happened to you?”

You wanted to talk, to explain the state he’d just found you in but you couldn’t.  The words just wouldn’t form.

“You’ took a leave of absence from work.  No ones heard from you in over a week. We’re all worried about you,” Spencer paused, taking a shallow breath, “I’m worried about you.”

“I…” You started as tears began to pool in your eyes.

“Hey… hey…” Spencer soothed, quickly moving closer to you.

He raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, wiping away the tears that began to fall with his thumb.  It was fruitless, there were too many, yet he tried anyway.  Nevertheless, it was comforting, so comforting that you found yourself leaning slightly into his hand.

“I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…” You spoke, voice cracking as tears fell faster.

Spencer removed his hand from your face, shifting on your bed so that he was next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“It’s okay…” He soothed quietly.  Holding you firmly but not too tight as if he was afraid you might break under the pressure.

The pressure helped and soon enough your tears dried up, leaving you more exhausted than you were previously, if that was even possible.

“Oh, Y/N,” Spencer sighed.

“It was the last case,” You whispered, “All I can see if her, if I close my eyes… she’s there, every time, it’s like she’s following me.” “It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said confidently, adjusting so he could look at you as he spoke. “It was her choice to go with her husband, to warn him he was caught.”

“But I was the one that got their first, that spoke to her.” You spoke carefully, “If I had done something differently, said something different then maybe she wouldn’t have…”. You trailed off.

“Y/N, her husband was a master manipulator, you couldn’t have undone what he did to her.  It didn’t matter what you said.  What does matter is all of the lives you saved, the people you got out of the way as you ran in there.” Spencer took a breath, “When was the last time you ate?”

You paused at the unexpected question.

“I… I’m not sure.” You say slowly, “I…”

“It’s okay.” Spencer soothed, “I went to the shop on my way over.”

Spencer slowly got up, making sure you were properly seated after you’d been leaning on him.  Then he left the room returning what felt like minutes later with a bowl.

He carefully sat down next to you placing the bowl, full of soup, in front of you. Before you could move for the spoon Spencer picked it up, bringing the spoon up to your lips.  You hesitated for a moment, feeling silly about how he was spoon feeding you.  Even so you opened your mouth, letting him place the spoon on your tongue.

You slowly swallowed the warm liquid as he pulled the spoon away, swiftly bringing another spoon full up to your lips.  He repeated this action a few more times before you gently turned your head away.

“No… I… thank you,” You muttered quietly and embarrassed.

“Y/N, you need to eat.  Please, just a little more?” He asked gently,

“No… I uh…” You mutter, “I don’t feel well.”

As if all of your energy returned in one swift second you shot up, running into the bathroom and collapsing by the toilet, retching painfully.

Spencer didn’t miss a beat and was right next to you sweeping your matted hair away from your face, gathering it all in one hand and placing his other hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“It’s okay…” He muttered, “You’re okay…”

The retching continued for a few more heaves before you collapsed back into Spencer, all of your energy leaving you once again.  He moved his arms and wrapped them around you, holding you softly.

Your chest rose and fell heavily as you caught your breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” You whispered between breaths.

“It’s okay.” Spencer replied gently.

As Spencer sat there holding you, letting you catch your breath, he glanced around your bathroom.  It was quite small and simple but there were pieces of you all over it through your forest green towels, jasmine scented shower gel, a little framed picture of flowers hanging on the wall next to the mirror.  There was something else that caught his eye, just next to your toothbrush on the sink.

“Okay, we should get you back into bed.” He said softly, “Do you think you can stand?”

You nodded slowly.

Spencer removed his arms from around you and stood up, before reaching down and helping you up.  As you reached an upright position a wave of dizziness washed over you.  You would have hit the floor, hard, had Spencer not been there to catch you.  Without missing a beat he swept you up into his arms and carried you into the bedroom, gently placing you on the bed.

He pulled the covers back over you from where you’d thrown them off to run into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah…” You spoke quietly, uncertainty in your voice.

You and Spencer fell silent again before he sucked in a deep breath.

“Y/N, I uh…” He began, “I saw the bottle by your sink. You uh… I didn’t know you took anti-depressants.”

You raise your eyes to meet his.  His eyes were gentle but full of concern.

“I haven’t been.” You admitted quietly, “I got the prescription refilled when we got back to Virgina but I… I’ve not been taking them.”

“How long, Y/N?” He asked,

You look away from him, not willing to look him in the eye, you couldn’t bare his worried gaze on you when you did this to yourself.

“About a month…” You whispered, “I… one day I went to take them and I realised it was the last one.  The we got called away and I couldn’t refill the prescription.  Then we got back and I forgot all about it until…” You meet his gaze again, “Until we got back from LA and I needed them, I knew I did.  But then I was home, all alone and I just… I couldn’t bring myself to take them, to do anything really.”

Spencer gently laid a hand on top of yours.

“Y/N, you know you can’t just come off them like that.  Especially when you’re not ready to.” He explained gently,

“I know… I know… I just…” You felt tears well up in your eyes again,

“Hey, it’s okay.  I’m not mad at you.” He quickly spoke, “But you need them, okay?”

You nod.

“They’ll make you feel better.” 

Spencer then pulled out the orange tube and opened it, tipping out two white pills.  You didn’t even see him take them from the bathroom but there they were, in his hand.

“Will you take these for me?” He asked, you knew it wasn’t really something you could say no to so you held out your hand, taking them from him.

You placed them both in your mouth as he grabbed the water bottle he’d placed on your night stand earlier.  He swiftly opened it before bringing it up to your lips, letting you get a mouthful before he pulled it away.

You swallowed, allowing the pills to pass down your throat.

“Thank you,” Spencer said with a small smile.

“Why are you thanking me?” You asked, confusion lacing your voice.

Spencer just gave you another small smile, placing the bottle back on the side.

“When was the last time you got proper sleep?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“I’m not sure…” 

Spencer stood up slowly and walked over to your window, pulling the curtains shut before turning back to you.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He suggested.

As you began to move lower on the bed he moved the pillow that was propping you up so you could lie down properly.  

After you’d settled on your side, Spencer watched you for a moment before speaking up again, “I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything…”

He began to walk to the door but you spoke up.

“Spencer?” You called quietly,

“Yeah?” He turned back to you.

“Will you lie with me?” You asked.

Without another word he walked around to the side of your bed, slipping off his blazer as he did.  He gently laid it over the chair in the corner of your room before removing his tie and placing it with the blazer.  Next he rolled up his shirt sleeves before softly laying down behind you.  He gently pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you…” You whispered.

“Any time.” Spencer said gently through a small smile, “Now try and get some sleep.”

For the first time in who knows how long you felt somewhat comfortable in your bed.  The incessant ticking of the clock wasn’t bothering you, instead the sound of it was covered by the soft thumping of Spencer’s heart and the gentle sound of his breath behind you.

You let out a long sigh of content before letting your eyes flutter closed as his warmth enveloped you, allowing you to settle into a deep slumber.

[daylighted]

ㅤ ㅤㅤmy boy's a mechanic! . . . charlie baker.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you knew nothing about cars. not a thing. you put the key in the ignition, the engine started, and that was about it. being an only child, your dad thought that he'd make your life easier by never letting you struggle. that was how he ended up doing all of your mechanic work, sometimes even pumping your gas for you.

sure, it was nice; being spoiled always was. but the downsides came quickly when your parents were out of town, and your car spluttered to a stop on the side of the road.

couldn't call your dad, not wanting to stress him out. couldn't call your mom, because she'd tell your dad, and of course they would have come home to help you, but how awful would it be to be the sole reason their mini vacation was ruined?

so you called charlie. charlie was incredible self-sufficient; knew how to cook, worked maintenance on his family's cars, could fix most plumbing and technical issues around his house. all-in-all, he was a perfect choice to call in your troubles.

you stood outside in the blazing summer heat, the hood of your car propped open, and you staring inside at the engine and the mechanics, seeing a lot and understanding none of it.

"right, so you see the gas cap?" charlie's voice scratches through the receiver and into your ear. "open it, like you're fillin' your tank."

your arms cross over your chest, a little whine falling out of your mouth. "charlie, i have plenty of gas. i'm not going over there. it's somethin' with the engine or... something."

"mhm," charlie hums and clears his throat, "go to the side of the car, baby."

you bristle, slamming the hood of the car shut with your freed hand. "so, what, you want me to just look in there and see how full of gas my car definitely is?"

"i want you to look in there and make sure it's gas." he's always been patient with you, but it was clear that he had siblings, from the way it came so easily to talk back to you. "from what you're sayin', with the terrible grindin' noises and the splutters, could have been siphoned and replaced."

"hm."

charlie snorts. there's rustling on his end, and then his voice is back and clear. "hm. don't give me attitude, baby, i'll leave you on the side of the road."

the growl in your throat is entirely made up of the aggression starting to build inside of you. "you leave me on the side of the road, charlie baker, we're breaking up."

"no," charlie says, drawling the word out, and there's more scratchy sounds, like he's running the phone cord beneath his shirt and rustling it. "--you're brea'ing up. where r'you?"

"leaving the city. rural backroads or something." well, this was just great. car was maybe out of gas, engine was maybe shot, and you were without cell signal on the side of the road. you whine all over again. "charlie."

charlie sighs. "m'comin', okay? lemme grab s'tools and--" he cuts out, and then the line drops. you flip your phone shut and throw it in the open window of your car in fury. it wasn't his fault. none of this was charlie's fault. but you were definitely allowed to be angry when you were stuck on the side of the road for god knew how long.

the answer was twelve minutes. you sit in your driver's seat, watching the time tick by on the clock of your radio, and twelve minutes later you see the rusty outline of charlie's truck roll up behind you.

"supposed to have your hazards on when you're pulled off like this," he says immediately upon his arrival, and then he presses a kiss to your forehead. "hi baby."

your mouth twists into a devastated pout. "don't be sweet with me when you tried to tell me this was all because i'm out of gas."

his lips twitch, and he reaches up with the hand not holding a toolbox to adjust the brim of his red baseball cap. "'course it's not out of gas. your tire blew."

"what?" your shock is audible, leaning half out of the driver's side window to look at your two tires. sure enough, the back driver's side one was flat. charlie's dimples poke into his cheeks in his innocent grin. "why didn't you say that?"

"why didn't you say that?" charlie shoots back, bending down to drop the toolbox into the grass. "i can't see your tires over a phone, baby."

your eyes roll again, and charlie laughs. "i'll get it all taken care of, honey." he circles around to your trunk, pushing it open. "aren't you so glad now that i made you get that spare tire 'stead of ice cream a few weeks ago?"

"no." your voice is grumbly, punctuated by the pout of your mouth. "it was at least eighty bucks more than a vanilla cone with sprinkles, no cherry."

charlie gives you a look, but his eyes glimmer all the same. "i should make you change this, since you wanna have an attitude about my graciousness."

he lugs the tire out of your trunk, rolling it over to rest against the backdoor. "no, you know what?" he continues, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. "i'll teach you. come n' dirty up that dress, baby."

as much as you want to protest, it was thoughtful of him, to not coddle you like your father spent the entirety of your life doing. having eleven siblings couldn't have been easy, but it'd turned charlie into an expert on how to deal with the likes of you.

so you watch him change out your tires, explaining each step along the way, making you dirty up your hands ( and your dress ) to show him that you were absorbing his instructions.

and when charlie circles around your car to turn it on, check if the system was reading the tire pressure right or whatever it was that he'd said, you can hear it from your perch against the door. the ding of the low fuel indicator.

charlie breaks into a cackle. "go ahead and tell me again how full of gas your car is?"

"shut up," you grumble, tossing a wad of ripped out grass at him.

"more like my baby's full of shit, i think."

you lunge forward to push at his shoulder with a laugh, and charlie takes the time to grab your wrist and tug you into his lap. his foot hooks underneath the car door to shut it behind you, his other hand reaching backwards to flip the hazards on. it was the right thing to do, after all, even though the car was fine now.

they didn't need someone rolling up next to them with charlie's hands up the skirt of your dress.

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this one's to u @starzify who dared me to make more. and to u, u, u, and u, my fellow charlie baker lovebots 🙂‍↕ @deansbeer, @titsout4jackles, & @ultravi0lence14

[junhanism]

Skincare and lotion - Han Taesan

.pairing : han taesan x reader

.genre : fluff, established relationship, reader taking care of tired taesan, tiny tiny bit of angst if you squint (mention of taesan shutting off when overwhelmed) but really its full fluff

.warnings : none

.wc : 712

From your bedroom you heard the front door open then close, the jingling sound of keys was soon replaced by pure silence.

You checked your phone ; you had received no text saying he was on his way nor did you hear the familiar, cheerful sound of his voice telling you that he was home. And just from that you knew it was one of those days.

So instead of getting up and greeting him at the door like you usually did, you stayed sat on your bed, giving him the space he needed.

You’ve known Taesan long enough to know how he handled these stressful days and the answer was simple : he didn’t.

He just shuts off from the world, including you, and try to deal with his problems alone. Even though you told him many times that you were there and that he could rely on you, he simply declined your offer, insisting that he could figure things out on his own.

You respected his choice and gave him space, only interfering when you deemed it necessary or when he’s been isolated for too long. And he was very grateful for that. As bad as he felt for putting you through this you always reassured him, telling him that it was not a daily occurrence and that you could put up with it.

The door to your bedroom creaked open and Taesan walked in, dropping his bag to the floor and simply sitting next to you on the bed.

You briefly took a look at him, analyzing the situation and taking note of his tired eyes and slow movements.

It was silent, only the typing of your keyboard resonated through the room. The boy next to you closed his eyes, basking in the warmth radiating from your arm against his and enjoying the well awaited silence after a long day.

A couple of minutes, maybe ten, passed in the comfortable silence that took place. With one last click you closed your laptop and set it aside, now getting up and walking over to your shared bathroom.

You came back to the room with a few bottles in hand and sat next to your tired boyfriend, who still had his eyes shut.

Grabbing the makeup remover, you poured a reasonable amount of it on a cotton pad before carefully swiping it across his face. Your hand reached for his hair, putting his bangs aside to get better access to his forehead.

The boy physically relaxed as you removed the leftover makeup on his skin.

« Wanna talk about it ? » you broke the silence, your voice soft and careful.

His eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times before finally locking with yours for the first time tonight. He just stared at you, giving you no answer but you didn’t push it, instead you sent him a soft, understanding smile as you grabbed the lotion, twisting the bottle cap and pouring some delicately on his face. As you gently patted his face Taesan observed your face, analyzing your features —which made you a little self conscious but you tried to remain calm— before blinking slowly at you, as if speaking through his eyes and searching for yours.

« Hm? » you asked, putting the bottle cap back on and putting the lotion aside

« Thank you » he spoke, his first words since he got home

« Of course, Taesan » you smiled

He simply looked at you, eyes filled with so much love and admiration, like you hung all the stars in the sky.

« I mean it » his voice was barely above a whisper but you were able to catch it

« I know you do » you placed a small kiss on the top of his nose which caused a smile to form on his once pouty lips.

You went back to the bathroom and quickly discarded all the skincare items before joining Taesan in bed, who was waiting for you with open arms.

Sliding in his embrace you made yourself comfortable as he readjusted the covers around your bodies.

Placing a loving kiss on the top of your head, Taesan then whispers a small “good night” before letting his tired eyes close, falling into dreamland.

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part two

part one | part two

you’re strapped to an explosive and left with three minutes to convince spencer to leave you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

contents :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, death, drug injections (dilaudid), explosives, angst angst angst so much angst

word count :: 3.3k

author’s note :: it's out!! reader is so mean to spencer in the beginning, but it's all an act, i promise :( please read part one if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think!

accompanying song :: as the world caves in by matt maltese

taglist :: @myuhh8, @pleasantwitchgarden, @babyspiderling, @kitty-kei, @delusional-4-fake-people, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @themindofmoe

can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been? – jodi picoult, nineteen minutes

his voice instantly fills the deep chasm in your heart.

the woman you were – a soul eager to give and receive love – died a year ago. lynne davis replaced your smile with the expression of a self-loathing woman, fed you with humiliation instead of warmth, and made you forget the taste of human companionship. you watched yourself fall apart more and more with each passing day and you never grieved your own loss, for you didn’t have the time.

so when spencer finds you in your wrecked state, slick strands of hair sticking to your forehead and the cuts on your face begging for urgent attention with their swelling undertones of red, you instantly put your head down. hearing your name stings your skin with humiliation and trepidation.

you curse under your breath. your cap wasn’t on your head anymore, so there was no shadow under which you could hide your eyes. there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to fake. you were like a deer caught in his headlights, or like a rabbit caught in his bear trap, the shame swallowing you whole. maybe this was all karma coming to bite you in the back, its teeth sinking into your flesh so you would go cold in front of the one you once loved so selflessly.

still looking at the rocky asphalt floor, you contemplate whether you should make a run for it. for some reason, being chased down to the ground sounds more welcoming than being chased down with his words. you already knew a confession wouldn’t make up for your treason. so you turn and walk with heavy steps, steps weighed down with fear.

but spencer wasn’t willing to sit in silence for eternity. he felt a burning sensation crawl through his skin. all these months he was mourning your loss with the regret of washing the same hands that touched you. he relived your absence every day like a haunting crime, cursing his photographic memory for detailing every inch of your face as he ripped through your flesh in his imagination. he was hungry for answers.

his wide strides follow yours as the splitting sounds of the asphalt crunching under his shoes echo in your eardrums. each step pulls at the strings of your heart like a violent demand. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry.

“y/n, wait.” 

you don’t stop. the air hits your tongue like bitter regret and sour ignorance.

“please!” 

the desperation in his voice knocks the wind out of you. hesitantly, you turn around.

you know he can smell the blood on you, the dirt rubbed into your wounds, and the grime stuck to your sweat. you clench your fist. you’ve seen this ending in your dreams so many times, where he lashes out at you with his boiling rage, and you listen because that’s the only justice you deserve. but you didn’t expect it to come so soon.

“you… you’re okay,” he says with a feathery voice, and his softness feels unintentionally cruel. why is he talking to you like that?

and why is he looking at you like that? you don’t deserve to be looked at with his puppy eyes, glossy with concern for you. 

why isn’t he yelling at you like a man seeking revenge, or glaring at you with monstrous rage?

your tone, by contrast, is icy and dark. “yeah, i… i am. you didn’t have to come looking for me.” 

“your stalker. what happened to him?” he ignores your statement and his cavernous eyes dig deeper into your gaze.

so he knew. you suck in a breath slowly as you grit your teeth.

“he’s down. i got him in the leg.”

a minute into a conversation that’s overdue by a year, and you’re already lying. but you’re so preoccupied with the thoughts of getting out of this helpless situation, you don’t realize how you’re putting down your defense.

he narrows his eyes as he studies your face. you hate when he does this, because you don’t know the thoughts he’s stirring in his head. 

after a second, he pipes up with a desperate roughness in his voice. “we need to get you to the hospital, i-i’ll let them know right now. let us help you.”

the urge to yell out no dances on your lips dangerously. you will not bring the others into this, especially not the rest of the bau. sensing the danger of his implication, you realize it’s now or never.

“there’s no need. i’m fine. i… really need to get going now.” 

you wish to say goodbye, just this once, but the hesitation that’s latched onto you since last year isn’t so easy to get rid of.

he scoffs and you think you see his hazel eyes flash with a speck of red. “yeah, just go and leave me, it’s not like you’ve done this before, right?”

your toes curl and dig into the foam of your shoes. his stare bores straight into your soul.

he doesn't give you a chance to reply. “all of our lives were in your hands. you didn’t think we had the right to know?”

his question sweeps your breath away. you wish he never asked. emotion cascades over you like a crumbling rock, and you can practically hear his rage gnawing at whatever patience was left in his body. 

“i just… i was never meant to make it this far,” you whisper quietly, so faintly you ponder for a brief moment if your voice is even audible. a penitent expression paints your face as you look away.

your response is the last straw.

spencer decides to wear you down to oblivion.

“you were never meant to make it this far? i didn’t leave my room for three weeks. for three weeks, y/n, i had to find a reason to stay alive!”

his icy tone impales your heart, and it’s a thousand times more painful than the needle your stalker pricked you with. but he doesn’t stop there.

“i’ll be honest with you because you can’t. i hated myself, y/n! did anything we ever talk about leave any impression on you? because the day you walked out of my life, just like my dad did, it really made me think that maybe everyone i loved was out to ruin me!” he throws fiery jabs with his words, each hitting harder than before.

with a crack in his voice, he adds, “i thought it was something i did that made you turn against me.”

a whimper threatens to leave your mouth. 

a choking cry sounds as he spills more heart-wrenching words. “i couldn’t pinpoint what it was, so i… i injected myself again so i could feel something. so i could feel sorry. it’s nothing you would care about, though.” he wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, his chest heaving with shuddering exhales. 

you feel so stupid, so cruel, so god damned fucking stupid. his words tear your gut like it's a punching bag, knocking you down and throwing you around until you’re bruised to the bone. even the sun turns its warmth away from you, shunning you by making you face the shade. you stand like a lifeless doll, feeling your jaw clench as you bite down on the inside of your cheeks because the agony is too much to bear. 

for a year, you had to withhold yourself from running back to the office, to collapse into spencer’s arms. now that you were face-to-face with him, you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say you missed him.

“you’re right. i’m sorry that i couldn’t care. i don’t trust you, reid.” 

you shock yourself with the words that come out of your own mouth, and it feels like your body’s being controlled by someone else. the worst part, it’s not that he wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. rather, it’s that you simply don’t have the time to explain. you couldn’t afford to toy with the idea of death when it was grabbing you right by the feet. 

“you’re lying.” his quiet voice ruffles the hairs on your neck, and you can almost feel the ghost of his hands brush your face. 

you certainly are. your shaking shoulders, your reddening cheeks, your watering eyes. your twitching lips, your sniffling nose, your sweating upper lip. the forced prolonged eye contact. after a year of not seeing each other, you wish he would’ve forgotten the behavioral markers that were your dead giveaway. but you couldn’t fool anyone with an eidetic memory.

with the outward shame crawling to your cheeks with a burning flame, your hands instinctively reach to touch the back of your neck. you stop when you feel a wire peeking from under your jacket collar.

shit.

“what is that?” spencer’s voice quavers with disturbed curiosity as he lowers his head to get a better view of your clothed neck.

you try to mask the wire by turning to the side ever so slightly, but spencer never fails to let a single detail slip past his attention. he’s already making steps towards you, and you take several of your own backwards, waving your hands.

“stop. don’t come any closer. don’t!” you yell, frantically shaking your head as you hold your arms up to try and bar him from coming any closer.

but he doesn’t listen.

he grabs both of your hands with one of his, overtaking your arms with such force you worry that he’s going to tear your limbs out, and unzips your jacket.

the last of your hope splinters like a glass vial.

a tear slides from your bottom eyelid, and you watch helplessly as it drops and trickles down along the vein of his arm. you hang your head low, afraid to look into his eyes.

but you’re forced to anyway, because the timer for the bomb on your chest activates with a beep, startling the both of you.

2:59.

“fuck. y/n, you…” the harshness of his voice scathes your already-wounded heart.

you shake your head, the darkness closing in as you fight to keep a steady breath.

“i need you to leave right now, spencer reid,” you beg with the words of a desperate plea.

“no,” he responds sternly, a glare splitting your walls with such anger you clamp your mouth shut. 

he forces the jacket off of you and turns you around to get a better view of the electrical components. he reaches for his phone, but you grasp his arm before he can call for a bomb squad.

“don’t bother. we don’t have time.”

and your cover’s blown. the moment you say we, you know you’ve made a fatal blunder. if you really didn’t care, you would’ve let him dial the number.

he knows you care deep down, despite your abrasive words. 

“four wires, red, white, blue, and yellow,” he begins, and you know your denouement is set in stone. 

2:40. 

“if we cut the wire or fuse connecting the trigger and the explosives then we’ll have a chance at disarming the bomb. we still need to account for the possibility of a secondary trigger or the existence of several detonators, as well as if there’s a trigger mechanism that monitors when they’re being cut.” you can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort you while he starts his inchoate examination or if he’s trying to comfort himself. maybe it’s both.

“spencer, i’m begging you, please. go,” you say as you try to move away again, but he backs you up against the brick wall of the alleyway. he grips you even tighter, nails digging into your skin. it hurts like scalding pain.

you’re dying for him to stop trying. 

the kid inside of you cries a bitter symphony of hot, painful thoughts. you don’t want to die, not when you have decades ahead of you to redeem yourself. but you reason that you don’t deserve a good ending, and that spencer is the only one that should come out of this alive. 

but then again, survivor’s guilt is a dastardly power.

2:15. 

“spencer, please. it’s my last wish.”

he looks at you for a brief moment, locking his gaze with yours. he’s so close to you yet feels so far. 

“l-look. i need you to let me concentrate,” spencer says shakingly, lightly tracing his fingers along the blasting cap. your breath hitches in the back of your throat, and you forget how to exhale.

1:59. 

sweat trickles from your forehead, and you don’t dare move to wipe it. you hear his elevated breaths and watch as a concentrated expression overtakes his face. 

you close your eyes.

you hear the bickering chirps of the birds in the distance, the sounds of construction as steel clashes against steel, and the faint laughter of women ringing out like freedom.

it’s a beautiful rhapsody to listen to when you’re dying in the subtlety.

1:30. 

you open your eyes. in a stupor of fatigue, you decide to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, spence, i’m so sorry.”

it feels pathetic to say it now.

“i’m such a coward,” you cry, and you carry the blame with your fingers as you try to release his grip on your arm one last time.

1:15. 

“d-don’t. say. that.” the tears are now streaking down spencer’s face, merging at his chin and dropping like raindrops to the floor.

“you need to leave,” you croak out, biting back a bitter sob as he tries to look at the device harnessed around your chest again.

“please,” you try once more.

“i’m never leaving you.” his hushed voice cracks and slaps against your eardrums like whiplash.

0:59. 

“i never stopped trying to reach for you, y/n.” he breaks the brief silence like waves crashing against the coastline.

“you didn't say goodbye and a part of me thought you were coming back,” he continues, and you break down, the words gutting you like a brutal kick to your stomach. the waves relentlessly lap, rumbling deep in your shredded horizon. 

“i… encountered your article in the news journal by chance,” he reveals, and your heart plummets even further.

of course. how naive of you. how could you forget that he was subscribed to every news journal, when you knew he read the news columns and the advertisements every day? you should've known you would fall straight into his hands.

“all of the linguistic features screamed that it was you. you… never moved up to new york.”

a hiccup leaves your chest between gasps.

“i confirmed it was you by asking garcia to cross-check every writers’ name and id in the database.” his knuckles are white, and the vapor from his breath fogs the silver metal of the device.

“i went to every managing editor’s residence to ask if they knew anything about you,” he huffs and you hear a click as the glass shard he’s using as a makeshift knife saws through something. you don’t look down.

0:20. 

“i eventually came across the right person, because she gave me your email address. i sent you that email 48 days ago regarding your article, the hygiene hypothesis as an explanation for the increased rates of allergic disorders.”

“that– that was you?” a breathless whisper escapes your lips as disbelief tangles your thoughts.

you remember the email as clear as day. it was the only email that complimented your style of writing among the crowded stash of spam mails, and you starred it so you could look back at it any time. to think that spencer would never reach out to you online because he hated electronic correspondence made you completely overlook the option in the first place.

but did it matter? knowing this or knowing that couldn’t change your fate — and because you couldn’t even convince the man you abandoned a year ago to leave you, you were bringing him down with you.

0:10. 

you sigh.

what a shameful ending, to seal your fate in the arms of someone who never deserved to share your pain. what a terrible ending, to have just three minutes to let the world know your time is up. and what a regrettable ending, because even after losing everything you ever had, your stalker’s still forcing you to reap what you sowed.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, i've lived with regret every day since i left you.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, maybe in an alternate universe you and i never met. 

if it makes you feel better, spencer, you won’t ever see me again.

they’re all fragments of an apology left unsaid.

“why did you go through all of this… after everything?” you ask.

you don't expect an answer.

you let your hand fall to the ground because you don’t deserve to hold his.

0:03. 

0:02. 

0:01. 

——

“because i needed to hear you say it to my face,” a shaking voice pulses from your right ear. 

it sounds too real to assume that you’re in heaven.

you open your eyes. spencer’s eyes are already fixed onto yours, radiant under the sun's golden rays. they're almost blinding.

you look down at the timer.

it’s frozen at 0:01.

a quivering exhale leaves your mouth, and you let out a painfully scratchy sob. spencer’s hands lie pressed against the wall right above your shoulders, and his hot breath fans over your neck as he leans over you. his mop of hair lightly brushes against your skin, and goosebumps scale down your body as you catch your breath.

you then feel him tear the explosive vest away from your body, the sounds of velcro crisp against the still air. 

you don’t even ask how he did it. he’s alive, you’re alive, and that’s the only thing that matters.

a million thoughts buzz in your head, and you don’t know what to say, so you just breathe out his name with panting breaths. 

“you didn’t have a choice.” spencer gives you a sorrowful smile, and his words seem to absolve you of all of your mistakes.

with an angelic stare, he takes in the sight of you. every tear, every eyelash damp with your sweat, every crack in your dried lips.

“please don’t ever leave again, y/n. i don’t want to lose you.” he says beseechingly, his face peppered with glimmering tears. the sentence burns your tenderest flesh.

“i won’t, i promise,” you whisper hoarsely, and the two of you fall to the ground slowly, taking in each other’s hold for the first time in a long time.

as you hear the sirens sound in the distance, you let yourself succumb to spencer’s grasp and whisper a hundred thank you's against his chest. 

how beautiful, the way your heart beats in unison with his as he murmurs words of abounding love and warmth, the way his arms press against your convulsing muscles to summon comfort, and the way you don’t even have to say a word for him to understand.

because in every universe, spencer will fight everything and everyone to extinguish death from your sight, even when you have nothing to return. 

[batty4vamps]

The Lost Boys Motorcycle Headcanons

From someone who lives with a biker and rides on the back of a motorcycle often lol

Includes: gn reader, possessiveness, reckless driving

Dwayne

* His bike is well decorated, but more understated than Marko’s

* To adorn the black tank, he has a custom leopard print gas cap, red pin striping, and ofc all the chrome is always nice and polished

* Because he’s so used to riding with Laddie, being on his bike is relatively safe

* Key word relatively

* He still give you little scares, but you usually aren’t fearing for your life too much when riding with him

* Unless you ask

* In which case, hold on tight

* Cus he knows every route between the boardwalk and the cave

* And he’s a good enough driver to do seriously risky shit

* So you are in for a wild ride

* He just loves the feeling of you holding onto him when he makes a turn particularly sharp and fast

* He loves laughing and hitting you with the “I got you baby, don’t worry”

* He doesn’t mind separating from the pack once in a while either, taking you on risky short cuts or the bluff’s scenic routes depending on the night

* He’ll surprise you on occasion by stopping at a clearing during a full moon to have a little moment alone

* Also, based on experience, he has you braid back his hair and tuck it into his jacket so it isn’t whipping you in the face the whole ride

(There’s some extra Dwayne stuff at the bottom teehee)

David

* He loves his bike more than he shows

* Like it’s pretty basic, solid black and chrome

* But it’s better taken care of than everyone but Dwayne’s

* He loves having you on the back of his bike

* Honestly even if he isn’t the lost boy you’re dating

* He’ll have you ride with him just to piss off whoever you’re with

* If you and him are together though

* He loves seeing people stare as you hop on, knowing you’re off limits

* He loves looking them dead in the eye as you hold tight to his back

* And you absolutely do need to hold on tight cus he drives like an absolute crazy person

* It’s not because he’s a bad driver

* He could make it a smooth ride if he wanted, he knows the area and his bike well enough

* But he likes feeling you cling to him

* He knows you trust him, that’s why it’s fun to push it a little

* You both know that nothing he does will end up getting you hurt

* So he likes to give you a little scare to keep you on your toes

* And to hear you squeal

Paul

* His bike is a sparkly mess honestly

* It’s been repaired and replaced and broken again so many times it’s wild

* Like Dwayne’s good at patching it up, but there’s a line

* But Paul still obviously still covers it in shiny stuff and puts in effort to make it look badass

* It’s mostly silver with white paneling on the sides of the gas tank, but over time it’s all gotten scratched to hell

* It’s not like he doesn’t care, he just exists at the perfect intersection of the worst driver and the one who can do the most tricks

* No one knows how, and everyone finds it infuriating

* He gets lost the minute the guys are out of his sight, he’s never aware of his surroundings, he’s distracted by everything, but somehow he picks up every stunt first try

* He shows off for you even more than Marko

* Usually he gets whatever the trick was perfect

* Then, right when you start cheering, gets distracted and goes straight into a tree

* Luckily he has the innate ability to laugh everything off, pouting for a sec so you dote on him before going right back to it

* The first time you rode with him you almost went off a cliff

* After that he slowly learned that when your human self is on the bike, he has to lock tf in

* So while he’ll do all the showing off he can when you ride with him, he also tries very very hard to focus on his surroundings

* Cus he’s fine risking his own ass, but he’d rather yours stays intact

Marko

* You know his bike is kitted tf up

* It’s bright red with decals all over the gas tank, tassels, an antenna, all of it

* He’ll look through Dwayne’s old parts and get him to put them on his bike

* As far as driving goes, he’s somehow more insane then David

* And with him it’s only half on purpose

* He obviously knows his way around the bike

* But he vastly overestimates his stunt driving skills and loves an adrenaline rush

* Plus, hearing you squeal and grip his waist is always a plus

* If you’re an adrenaline junky like him though, good god

* Y’all almost eat asphalt a LOT

* After he almost killed you doing a wheelie (iykyk) , you both decide he has to practice alone before doing a trick with you

* Once he gets it though, it’s always a great time

* He shows off for you constantly, and even when he fucks up and gets all pissed off it’s adorable

* His fav thing is taking you out for joyrides on the beach and making a game of how many people he can scare by almost hitting them

Bonus Dwayne mechanic hcs cus I love him

* He spends a LOT of time working on his bike shirtless with the rock box blasting

* Most of the boys know how to make repairs on the bikes (everyone besides Paul, which is ironic considering he breaks his shit the most), but Dwayne is the only one who works on them for fun

* Because of that, his is definitely the most comfortable ride

* He specifically makes sure the back end of the bike has good suspension so you don’t feel bumps as much

* He has a motorcycle catalog subscription delivered to Max’s that he buys custom parts from

* He’s very well acquainted with staff of the local auto-body shop

* Even if you know nothing about motorcycles he’s asking your opinion on everything he picks out

* He’ll even buy you a bike, regardless of your ability to drive it

* He’ll teach you, and start making it perfect for you with mods in the meantime

* Of course he’ll drive you around to your hearts content regardless

[jackabbotsfakeleg]

how about "relief" with Jack?

Relief, n.

A white envelope addressed to you with a return address in Afghanistan after weeks of holding your breath, brief but handwritten. Still alive and still in love with you. The honorable discharge after his injury, the military releasing its chokehold. Now he comes running home to you. Finding him in a crowded room, your heartbeat reverberating in your ears, breath hitched in a brief moment of panic before his eyes meet yours—the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There you are. His hands sliding around your waist from behind you, cheek pressed to yours in front of a camera at your sister’s wedding. It’ll be us next. Calloused thumbs wiping tears from your cheeks at your father’s funeral, his lips quickly replacing his fingers. I’ve got you. The sound of his keys in the lock of the door, bag hitting the floor, a familiar defeated sigh, arms wrapping tightly around you. Promise me you’ll always wear a seatbelt. Dark purple daffodils on the counter from the farmer’s market, your favorite coffee and a bagel on the bedside table. Thought I'd surprise you on the way home from work. His mouth on your throat, fingers holding your hips to grind against him, buried deep inside of you, coaxing an orgasm out of you. You feel so fucking good. A white stick with a blue cap. five minutes and two pink lines after months of only one. His arms lifting you off the ground to spin you around. Finally.

Send me a word and I'll write a blurb with it

[austinbutlerslovers]

Buzzcut

Label 18+

Summary You knew the day was coming and had mentally prepared for it—the day Austin would completely shave his head for a role.

You understood his dedication and how drastic his look would be, but what you didn’t expect is the difference it would make in your relationship.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austins drastic hair change • relationship dynamics •fetishism • oral on fem • interchanging positions • cowgirl• missionary• P in V• orgasms • cream pie 🔗Masterlist

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine Written by popular demand🪒 *Updated: location of where he filmed the scene-Tulum Mexico 🥰

Buzzcut

You’re in Tulum, Mexico, staying in a luxurious beachfront resort where Austin is filming his latest project.

The suite is spacious and elegant, with rich wooden accents and soft, airy fabrics that sway in the ocean breeze. 

Large glass windows and sliding doors open onto a private terrace, offering a stunning view of the turquoise ocean stretching to the horizon. 

The king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens, sits perfectly positioned in the center of the room to face the breathtaking view.

But despite your beautiful surroundings, you’ve been pacing the suite consumed with only one thing on your mind. 

Austin’s key card slides into the slot, and your heart leaps to your throat. He’s finally back. You rush to the door of the suite, nearly tripping in your excitement.

Your anticipation has been mounting all day, ever since he texted to say he’d filmed “the scene.” The one you knew was coming—the one where he shaves his hair into a buzz cut.

When you swing open the door, he greets you with his sweet charming smile that never fails to disarm you, but he’s wearing a hoodie and a cap that hide the evidence of what he’s done.

As he steps inside the door clicks shut behind him, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar warmth grounding you instantly.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear, his voice soft and affectionate.

You squeeze him back, hugging him deeply, but your curiosity is burning a hole through you. Pulling back, you look up at him with wide eyes. “Okay let me see it.”

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a thrill through you. “You’re not even going to ask how my day was?”

“Austin!” you whine, swatting at his chest. “I’m desperate, let me see it.”

“Alright, alright.” He says stepping back and with a teasing smirk he slowly pulls his hoodie down. Your breath catches as his neck comes into view, bare and smooth.

Then with deliberate care, he removes his hat. His hand runs over his scalp, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Austin…” you breathe, stepping closer your hand moving on instinct, your fingers brushing over his jaw. You trail them up to his temple, your touch lingering near his ear

His hair is shaved to his scalp in a buzz cut. Gone is the tousled golden hair you’ve always loved, replaced with something new, something rugged, and undeniably masculine.

You’re shocked, taken aback by the change. You loved when he changed his hairstyles, but this? This was something else entirely.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity as he takes your hand guiding it to the back of his head letting you feel the velvety texture.

You can’t stop staring at him the change has brought out something different in him, something striking.

His jawline is sharper now, his cheekbones are defined and everything about his face suddenly has a chiseled, rugged edge.

“You look so different,” you finally manage, your voice surprised as your palm smooths over his head, feeling the texture.

He grins, his confidence growing as he sees the way you’re looking at him.

“Do you like me different?” he teases, his grin widening as he guides your hand down to his chest.

His words ignite something in you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his.

He groans into the kiss, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you is instant, building fast as his mouth claims yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

You tug at his hoodie, and he helps you strip it off, his shirt following in one smooth motion. Your hands are on him immediately, roaming over the broad planes of his chest before returning to his head, and he groans when your fingertips graze along his scalp.

“Feels so good,” he whispers, his lips finding the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

You tug at his waistband, and he immediately unbuttons his jeans, his lips never leaving your neck. His kisses are hot and urgent, his breath brushing against your skin as he works his jeans loose and kicks them off with one swift motion.

His fingers slide to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your hips along with your panties as his mouth trails lower, leaving a fiery path across your skin.

Your hands find his head, holding him to you as he kisses along your chest, his fingers quickly unclasping your bra before he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it aside without hesitation.

You’re both breathless by the time every piece of clothing is removed, your naked bodies pressed together, heat and desire consuming you both.

His hands grip your waist, firm and commanding, as he guides you toward the spacious bed together, your lips never parting as you kiss.

His hands slide down to the back of your thighs, lifting you just enough to place you down on the bed.

You can feel the strength in his arms, the heat radiating from his body, and the way he’s so achingly focused on you, his blue eyes filled with desire as he kisses down your body.

By the time his lips find your clit, you’re already wet with need, your body trembling in anticipation. His hands spread your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as his face lowers between them.

He pleasures you with his mouth, his tongue moving with precision, swirling and flicking, while his hands hold you firmly in place as you writhe beneath him lost in pleasure.

You can’t stop touching him, your hands constantly moving to his head, grazing the skin.

“Austin,” you gasp, your voice breaking as he groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop.” you whisper.

Your thighs tremble against his head, and he grips your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his mouth works you over with unrelenting focus. The tension builds, spiraling higher and higher until the pressure finally snaps.

You cry out, your hands holding his head down as you push against his face, your release crashing through you in waves. His mouth doesn’t stop, his tongue unrelenting as he groans, devouring every ounce of your pleasure until you’re shaking beneath him.

As you try to catch your breath, he moves up your body, his lips brushing against your stomach, then your breasts, until he hovers over your face, his eyes filled with pride and desire.

Before he can pin you down, you press your palms firmly against his chest, catching him off guard. His eyes widen slightly with surprise, but then a look of understanding crosses his face, allowing you full control as you gently roll on top of him.

You straddle his hips, sliding your hand between your legs to guide his hard cock into you. The sensation makes you both gasp as you slowly glide down on him, his head tilting back as his hands grab your hips.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice deep with unrestrained pleasure as his fingers dig into your skin. “You feel… so perfect.”

You begin to move, your hips rolling back and forth, overwhelmed by the pleasure of him stretching and filling you completely.

His eyes flutter shut when your fingertips graze over his head again, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his fingertips dig into your hips, urging you to move faster.

You lean in, kissing him deeply, your movements syncing perfectly as the intensity builds between you. 

His hands slide up your back, gripping your shoulders tightly as his hips buck up, thrusting his cock into you. 

You feel the pressure of him hitting the perfect spot inside you of over and over again until you orgasm, your cries of pleasure filling the suite, blending with the faint sound of waves crashing outside the open balcony doors.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he flips you onto your back, his eyes filled with determination.

He holds your wrists above your head pinning you as he kisses you deeply, his hips sliding between your thighs. 

When he thrusts into you, hard and deep, the stretch is almost unbearable, making you cry out in pleasure as his hands slide to your hips.

Each thrust of his cock feels deeper and more intense as you moan for him your hands caressing the back of his head. 

Your fingernails graze down the base of his skull and he shudders violently as a guttural groan rips from his throat.

“Fuck  … you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice rough and incoherent, completely lost in pleasure. “I… I need to be deeper, I need to feel all of you.” He whispers his words raw and desperate.

His hands move beneath your hips, tilting them up as he thrusts even harder. His lips and tongue trailing  over your throat as you gasp, your body arching beneath him from the onslaught of overwhelming stimulation. 

Your nails drag down the back of his head as you begin to orgasm, making him groan as he thrusts into you faster.

His grip under your hips tightens, almost bruising, as his thrusts become wilder, harder, deeper, driving you closer to the edge with every snap of his hips. 

The tension in his body is undeniable, his muscles straining with each powerful thrust, completely consumed by the feeling of your walls fluttering on his cock.

Your moans turn into desperate cries as the pleasure builds to an overwhelming peak. 

The tension snaps, your body shuddering uncontrollably as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails gripping his head as you scream his name.

The sound of your pleasure sends him spiraling, his thrusts growing erratic as a deep groan escapes him, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me come,” he rasps, his voice trembling, the word's breaking off as he tilts his head back, his eyes squeezing shut in pure ecstasy.

A deep, guttural groan rips from his chest as he thrusts deeper, his release surging through him with unstoppable intensity.

You feel the sudden warmth of his come, his cock twitching with every pulse. He lets out a soft, broken sound with each spasm, his hips jerking slightly as he empties himself, filling you completely.

His breaths are short and uneven as his body trembles, until finally, he collapses against you, his weight pressing you into the bed grounding you in the hazy afterglow.

His heart pounds wildly against your chest as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I guess you’re… okay with the buzzcut” he says breathlessly, his voice laced with exhaustion and a hint of teasing.

You laugh between breaths, your fingernails trailing lightly over his scalp. “I’m going to enjoy every  moment of this until your hair grows back,” you pant, your voice soft but full of playful affection.

He grins, shifting just enough to look at you. “I could live with that,” he says, leaning down to brush a lazy kiss against your lips and you smile, gliding your palm over the back of his head.

🪒 End

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesficsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @jjubilee-fluff @stars-remain2

[aeth-eris]

★ the physical essence of venus ★

★  aries  venus  ★ the  scarred  helmet  hanging  on  the  back  of  your  door  that  you  won’t  replace,  even  though  it’s  scratched  beyond  repair,  because  it’s  been  with  you  through  every  wild  decision  you’ve  made.  the  sneakers  at  your  front  door,  caked  with  mud  from  an  impulsive  hike  you  dragged  your  friends  on  last  spring—still  laced  tightly,  ready  to  go  at  a  moment’s  notice.  your  jacket  pockets  always  seem  to  hold  something  random—keys,  an  old  receipt,  or  a  coin  you  found  that  felt  like  it  could  bring  good  luck,  though  you’d  never  admit  it.  even  your  wallet  looks  battle-worn,  stuffed  with  notes  you’ll  never  throw  out  because  they’re  pieces  of  a  past  that  make  you  feel  alive  when  you  touch  them.

 ★  taurus  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  bedside  table,  burned  just  enough  to  release  the  scent  of  wildflowers  but  still  pristine,  because  you’re  saving  it  for  “when  it  feels  right.”  the  blanket  on  your  couch  is  perfectly  folded,  even  though  you  use  it  every  day,  its  edges  slightly  frayed  because  it’s  older  than  you’d  care  to  admit.  your  collection  of  tea  blends  isn’t  about  drinking  them—it’s  about  the  ritual  of  opening  the  tin,  inhaling  the  scent,  and  deciding  what  fits  your  mood  that  day.  even  the  wooden  cutting  board  in  your  kitchen  feels  sacred,  smoothed�� from  years  of  careful  use,  holding  the  quiet  memories  of  meals  shared  with  people  who  make  your  world  feel  steady.

 ★  gemini  venus  ★ the  pen  you  always  lose  but  somehow  manage  to  find  at  the  exact  moment  you  need  it,  its  cap  chewed  and  its  ink  running  dry  because  you  use  it  for  everything—doodles,  random  notes,  grocery  lists,  and  the  occasional  half-baked  love  letter.  your  phone  case  has  a  faint  crack  from  being  tossed  on  a  table  during  an  animated  conversation,  and  there’s  a  tiny  keychain  charm  dangling  from  it  that  you  picked  up  during  a  trip  you  can  barely  remember.  your  desk  is  a  mess  of  brightly  colored  sticky  notes,  most  of  which  have  cryptic  one-liners  that  no  longer  make  sense,  but  you  refuse  to  throw  them  away  because  they  “might  mean  something  someday.”

 ★  cancer  venus  ★ the  slightly  faded  Polaroid  stuck  to  your  fridge  of  a  moment  you’ll  never  stop  replaying  in  your  mind,  its  corners  curling  just  enough  to  show  its  age.  the  quilt  on  your  bed,  soft  with  time,  smells  faintly  of  lavender  and  home,  even  when  you’ve  been  away  for  too  long.  your  jewelry  box  holds  treasures  you  don’t  wear  but  can’t  let  go  of—a  broken  bracelet,  a  ring  from  someone  you  loved,  or  a  single  earring  that’s  lost  its  match  but  not  its  meaning.  there’s  a  jar  of  seashells  on  your  windowsill,  each  one  tied  to  a  memory  you  can’t  explain  but  would  defend  if  anyone  tried  to  move  it.

 ★  leo  venus  ★ the  golden  compact  mirror  in  your  bag  that  you  flip  open  with  a  dramatic  flourish,  even  when  you  don’t  need  to  use  it.  your  favorite  jacket,  velvet  or  sequined,  hangs  at  the  front  of  your  closet,  waiting  for  its  next  moment  in  the  spotlight,  no  matter  how  rare.  you  keep  a  framed  photo  of  yourself  from  that  one  perfect  night,  sitting  prominently  where  you  can  see  it  and  be  reminded  of  your  glow.  even  your  perfume  bottle  looks  like  art—half-full  because  you  save  it  for  moments  when  you  want  the  world  to  remember  you  by  its  scent.

 ★  virgo  venus  ★ the  planner  on  your  desk  is  immaculate,  with  color-coded  tabs  and  neat  handwriting  that  looks  like  it  belongs  in  a  design  catalog.  your  favorite  pen  is  a  gel  pen  with  just  the  right  flow—you  buy  them  in  bulk  because  losing  one  feels  like  losing  a  limb.  your  kitchen  has  a  perfectly  organized  spice  rack,  alphabetized  not  out  of  compulsion  but  because  it  just  makes  sense.  even  your  plants  thrive  in  an  oddly  perfect  way;  they’re  pruned  regularly,  sitting  in  matching  pots,  as  if  they’ve  agreed  to  reflect  your  careful  attention  to  detail.

 ★  libra  venus  ★ the  antique  hand  mirror  on  your  vanity,  slightly  tarnished  but  impossibly  elegant,  next  to  a  bottle  of  rose-scented  perfume  that’s  more  art  than  utility.  your  coffee  table  has  a  stack  of  perfectly  arranged  art  books  that  you  flip  through  during  lazy  afternoons,  marveling  at  the  balance  of  beauty  and  creativity.  your  wardrobe  holds  a  silk  scarf  or  pair  of  perfectly  pointed  flats  that  you  wear  when  you  want  to  feel  effortlessly  polished.  even  your  favorite  mug  has  an  air  of  charm—delicate,  with  a  tiny  chip  that  only  makes  it  more  perfect  in  your  eyes.

 ★  scorpio  venus  ★ the  leather-bound  journal  hidden  in  a  drawer,  its  pages  filled  with  raw,  unfiltered  emotions  you  wouldn’t  dare  share  aloud.  the  black  candle  on  your  nightstand,  burned  down  just  enough  to  release  its  smoky,  mysterious  scent,  but  not  finished,  as  if  waiting  for  the  right  moment.  your  ring  drawer  holds  a  piece  you  never  wear  anymore,  but  every  time  you  pick  it  up,  the  memories  it  holds  flood  back  so  vividly  it  takes  your  breath  away.  even  your  favorite  book  has  underlined  passages  that  feel  like  secrets  only  you  could  understand,  the  kind  you  re-read  when  you  need  to  feel  seen.

 ★  sagittarius  venus  ★ the  worn  leather  backpack  leaning  by  your  door,  its  zippers  jingling  faintly  every  time  you  grab  it  to  head  out.  your  passport  is  scuffed,  its  pages  stamped  with  memories  that  still  bring  a  grin  to  your  face  when  you  flip  through  them.  you  keep  a  jar  of  foreign  coins  from  places  you’ve  been,  not  for  their  value  but  because  they  remind  you  of  café  conversations,  train  rides,  and  sunsets  you  swore  you’d  never  forget.  even  your  favorite  shoes  are  battered  from  countless  adventures,  soles  worn  thin  but  still  too  full  of  life  to  be  replaced.

 ★  capricorn  venus  ★ your  desk  holds  a  fountain  pen,  heavy  in  your  hand,  its  ink  flowing  with  precision  as  you  jot  down  plans  that  matter.  the  watch  on  your  wrist  is  timeless—its  leather  strap  softened  with  wear,  a  quiet  symbol  of  discipline  and  style.  your  planner  is  sleek,  every  page  carefully  filled  with  tasks  and  goals,  because  each  moment  of  time  feels  like  an  investment.  even  your  scarf  is  understated  and  elegant,  folded  neatly  by  the  door,  ready  to  shield  you  from  the  chill  as  you  head  out  into  the  world  you’re  steadily  building.

 ★  aquarius  venus  ★ the  slightly  offbeat  earrings  you  wear  almost  daily,  their  mismatched  charm  drawing  compliments  wherever  you  go.  your  favorite  gadget—a  smart  device,  a  quirky  invention,  or  something  DIY—sits  proudly  on  your  desk,  a  blend  of  utility  and  rebellion  against  the  ordinary.  your  coffee  table  holds  an  art  book  or  zine  from  an  obscure  creator  you  discovered  before  anyone  else  did.  even  your  favorite  lamp  is  asymmetrical  or  futuristic,  casting  light  in  ways  that  feel  just  unconventional  enough  to  reflect  your  unique  vision  of  the  world.

 ★  pisces  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  desk  smells  like  sea  salt  and  mystery,  burned  down  to  a  waxy  puddle  but  kept  because  it  reminds  you  of  a  fleeting,  perfect  moment.  your  dream  journal  sits  beside  your  bed,  pages  filled  with  poetry  and  fragmented  thoughts  you’ve  scrawled  in  the  dark,  barely  legible  but  emotionally  potent.  you  keep  a  jar  of  glitter  on  your  shelf—not  for  any  practical  purpose,  but  because  it  catches  the  light  like  magic.  even  your  blanket,  impossibly  soft  and  slightly  worn  at  the  edges,  feels  like  a  portal  to  the  dreamscape  you  create  every  time  you  wrap  yourself  in  it.

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

[summercourtship]

WASTE NOT (18+)

or, the reader is travelling with the Ghoul when he discovers she's never fucked before. You figure out what comes next.

cooper howard/the ghoul x reader | warnings/notes: loss of virginity, masturbation, exhibitionism, piv sex, oral sex, barely proofread | side note: i might end up reusing this general plot for a longer multi-chapter fic, we'll see

read on AO3

Five hundred caps, two hundred upfront.

That’s how much it took for you to get out of the gilded cage that was your hometown, a decent sized settlement inside of what used to be a Rodeo stadium and aptly named for it. That’s all it took for you to escape your father, the mayor of said town who kept you under lock and key, both literally and figuratively. You’d tried to escape before, attempts that had been thwarted before they even began. It only led to you being locked in your room and only allowed to walk the town with a bodyguard, someone hired to make sure you didn’t run for it. 

Some people might say that it was a privilege to be cared for so much that you didn’t have to constantly fight for your life. You thought it was a surefire way to get you killed when you finally did leave his grasp.

Since running away, you’d done many things for the first time that most people did before they were even ten years old. Held a gun, caught your own food, killed a man. 

And the man you’d paid to take you through the wastes was the first ghoul you’d ever met. Your settlement didn’t ban them from entering, but they weren’t exactly welcoming either. But you’d been immediately drawn to him, which you at first chalked up to the novelty of meeting a new kind of person, the kind you’d only read about.

However, as you’d continued traveling with him and the novelty wore off, you quickly realized that the draw you felt to him wasn’t just because of culture shock. 

The Ghoul, which was the only thing you called him because he’d given you nothing else to call him, was sitting by the fire he’d built, a slow curl of smoke drifting from the cigarette hanging in his mouth. You looked over at him, observing how the light from the flames reflected off of his worn and imperfect skin. It was a sight you’d seen almost every night this week, but every time you felt like it was the first time you were seeing him. 

Your week was almost up. When you’d hired him, you’d told him you only wanted to leave your town for a week, just to experience the Wastes before returning to your “ivory tower,” (his words, not yours). It had taken some bargaining on your end (and you had to give him chems in addition to the caps) but it had worked. You were out of the clutches of your father, you were finally experiencing life for the first time.  

And you had no intention of going back when the week was over. 

You were sitting across the room, perched on an old bed that was still standing in the half-ruined house, though shack might be more accurate. An entire wall was missing, letting you look right into the starry night sky from your seat. But mainly you were looking at the Ghoul, who was looking after one of his guns. You brought the drink you’d been nursing- just a Nuka-Cola you’d found on your journey and saved for this moment- taking a deep sip of the fizzy drink when he spoke up. 

“Stop starin’ at me.” 

You choked, sputtering up the Nuka-Cola in your attempt to catch your breath. In your coughing, you only managed to spill more of the drink on yourself, an unfortunate chain of events that left you with a soaked through shirt. You cursed under your breath, looking down at the brown liquid that would surely stain the fabric. Did you even have a clean replacement in your bag?

Leaning towards your bag, you placed the almost empty bottle on the floor before flipping the flap, peering inside. 

“You might wanna take that off before the flies smell the sugar.”

Your current task forgotten, you stared up at the Ghoul, who wasn’t even looking at you when he said it. But the idea of taking your shirt off around him when you knew that he could see it was terrifying. However, he was right when he said you’d need to get the shirt off of your body soon and put it into your bag. Who knows how much sugar was in Nuka-Cola, how far its sweet scent would travel if it was out in the open. And you certainly didn’t want to attract any bugs your way. 

Sitting up straight, you cleared your throat. Your fingers worried at the hem of your shirt.

“Could you turn around…” Your voice trailed off at the look on his face, a brief glance your way. 

“It’s nothing I ain’t seen on other women.” 

“Okay, but I’ve never-” You stopped yourself from finishing your sentence, realizing exactly what you were admitting, but the damage was already done. The Ghoul leaned forward and you tightened your grip around yourself, as if the shirt still being on your body would protect you from his judgment. 

“You’ve never…?” The pregnant pause hung in the air between you, but you weren’t going to clarify. You didn’t move, which must have been enough of a confirmation for him because he whistled low in his mouth. “Why am I not surprised? You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

As if shooting a gun naturally came before losing your virginity. (Maybe it did, you wouldn’t know). 

“Can you stop?” You huffed, your face hot. “If I had wanted to, I would have.”

But it seemed that any of your attempts to get him to drop the subject wouldn’t work, because he was looking at you intensely, an unreadable look in his surprisingly human eyes. Not for the first time, you wondered what he looked like when he was human. You’d tried before, to imagine what it looked like when his skin was smooth and he had a nose and hair, but nothing seemed to match his demeanor as well as being a ghoul did. 

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“I-” You swallowed nervously, your heartbeat in your throat choking you. “I didn’t see the point, not when my dad is probably going to marry me off to some geezer who can’t get it up anyway. And I don’t need your judgment about it.”  

You were now trying to hold onto any semblance of dignity you had left. Pretending like you’d made a conscious choice to not lose your virginity instead of it being a result of your virtual imprisonment by your father. Like you hadn’t yearned for the touch of someone else. (And, of course, like you hadn’t yearned at all for him over the course of the past week.)

“Do you touch yourself, at least?”

You froze, looking across the room at him like he was a Deathclaw. He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. Like he could smell your apprehension, or worse, your burgeoning arousal. 

“Do you touch yourself?”

This isn't something you had talked about ever with anyone. But you couldn’t help answering him. “Y-yes.” If he looked surprised that you actually spoke, you couldn’t tell over your own embarrassment. 

“Show me.” When you didn’t respond, still sitting there staring at him like he had grown two heads, he sat back in his seat again, his hat dipping low. “Or don’t. I’m not going to force-”

You cut him off before he could continue, suddenly not wanting this opportunity to pass you by. After all, you only had this last night with him and then you would go your separate ways. If you horribly embarrassed yourself, it would only be for tonight. “Okay.” You think that this is your biggest streak of surprising the Ghoul. But he recovered quickly, a sly grin sneaking onto his face. 

“Take your shirt off first.” 

Nodding, you slowly reached down to the hem of your shirt, trying and failing to will your hands to stop trembling. Then, quickly, you peeled the sticky fabric off of your skin. You were a bit annoyed that you had managed to spill so much onto the shirt- it was a nice shirt, a rare find on the surface. But it didn’t matter now, considering where it had led you. 

You dropped your shirt onto the floor, unable to look at him as he surely looked at your chest. 

Suddenly feeling bold from his gaze, you did more than just take off the glorified rag from your chest- you divested yourself of all of your clothes, placing them into a messy pile by the mattress. You were now exposed to the elements and to his gaze, heavy as he looked over your body. Once again, he didn’t betray any of the surprise he might have felt. 

“Should I-”

“Lie down.”

You stared at him before you slowly lowered yourself, trying to keep your eyes on him. When you couldn’t anymore, you closed your eyes. If you couldn’t see him, it wouldn’t be nerve wracking to be watched. But even as you thought it, you could feel the heat of his gaze on you. 

“Touch yourself.” 

At his surprisingly gentle command, you exhaled shakily. Gently, you dragged your hand down your body, your breath quick. After a moment of teasing yourself, you pressed the pads of two fingers against your clit, rubbing a slow circle against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Immediately, you sighed, relieving tension you didn’t know had been building. While you had masturbated every night at home, you certainly needed the relief it gave you after a week of stress and almost dying. You were surprisingly wet, though not enough to qualify as dripping. your fingers circled your clit, your hips sudden bucking slightly. 

Across from you, the Ghoul groaned, and you tilted your head up, looking at him. His eyes were entirely focused on your cunt, watching the wet slide of your fingers over your folds. His teeth were clenched together, and you gasped at the sight of him watching you so intently before you bit your lip to muffle the sound. Then his eyes moved from your fingers, looking you straight in the eyes as he started to speak.

“I bet you touched yourself all quiet, trying not to let daddy hear you fucking yourself. But your daddy ain’t here, and I want to hear the noises you make.”  

You whined, his words going straight to your cunt. What was more painful was that he was correct- many nights you’d bit your pillow as you’d fucked yourself with your fingers, trying to keep quiet. 

“Go ahead, slip a finger inside-“

You stopped moving, looking at him again, taking the moment to catch your breath. 

“I’ve never really done that-“

The Ghoul cursed, and before you could blink he was off of his chair, moving closer. He was now knelt in between your legs, his gloved hands on your knees and staring up at you. 

“I gotta fuckin teach you everything, don’t I?”

Swiftly, he removed his gloves, throwing them onto the pile of your clothes. Then he swatted your hand away from your cunt before replacing it with his own fingers. At the dramatic shift in skin texture you gasped, immediately grinding against his rough fingers mindlessly as your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your cries. 

“None of that, I told you I’m gonna hear the sounds you’re making ‘cause of me.”

He moved down your body, pressing kisses and delivering brief bites to your flesh. With each nip of his teeth you gasped, torn between the desire to push his head away or beg for more. Then he reached your sex, pausing for a moment and letting his warm breath fan over you. You squirmed, unsure if you wanted to beg him to touch you or if you wanted to run away from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.

Then his mouth was hot against you, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, and you wondered why you’d ever thought about not letting him do this. With no nose in the way, he was able to press his face fully against you. He dipped his tongue into your opening, flicking it against your walls and thrusting a few times, the movement of his tongue in addition to his fingers overwhelming. 

He groaned against you as he lapped up your wetness, sounds of a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis. 

With a final wet sound, he removed his tongue before moving to suck on your clit, his hand moving from your thighs to return to your core. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He murmured as he pressed two of his fingers inside of you. You’d tried before to fuck your self like this but always found the feeling unsatisfactory. But his fingers were larger than yours, able to hit the places inside of you that you had begun to think were myths. 

It was overpowering, and any thoughts that weren’t about him quickly dissipated. 

Every indent and ridge of his skin dragged along your cunt and the sensation of being filled combined with the attention he was giving to your clit started to build you towards your peak. 

“Come for me, cmon.”

But even though you’d never come before at the hands of another, you knew what you wanted. You were afraid that if you came now, he wouldn’t actually fuck you. And if you were taken back to your rinky-dink town, you wanted to at least say you’d been fucked by someone you wanted. 

“I want to feel you- hm- inside me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His teeth were gritted together again, like he was so entirely focused on making you come that he didn't want to hear anything else.

“Yes, I do.” You raised your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. “I want your cock, I need you to fuck me-“

“Fuck.” He murmured, eyes lidded as whatever shaky resolve about actually fucking you he had broke. “For someone who never killed before this week, you’re dangerous.”

With swift movement, he pulled himself out of his pants and climbed up your body, pressing his hips against yours. He hovered above you, the head of his cock rested heavy on your clit, his hips rolling once to grind the length against your wet cunt. 

“Please.” You murmured, raising your hips to meet his cock. He gave you a dark look, and if he had eyebrows you’re sure one of them would be raised as if to say ‘you ready?’

Then he started to press in, his thick head catching before he pushed through the tight ring of your opening. Your mouth was slack, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on relaxing for every inch that was slowly pressing into you. When you looked at him, he was entirely focused on watching his cock disappear into your wet heat. 

He was slow, but you didn’t think it was due to any care for your comfort. No, from the look on his face, you would hazard a guess that he enjoyed slowly taking your virginity, feeling each inch of you give way to his thick cock. He liked the surrender. 

When his hips finally nestled against yours, he rested for a moment, his breath heavy. 

“Ready?”

Okay, maybe he cares slightly about your comfort- the thought was quickly erased when he pulled out and slammed back in, filling you quickly. You cursed, your hands flying to the bed to scramble for something to hold on to. But there were no sheets on the filthy mattress. So instead, you reached up to him, grasping the back of his duster for dear life as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He lowered himself as you wrapped your naked legs around his hips, bracing himself on his elbows above you. 

“So fucking tight.” He murmured against your face. One of his hands slipped from where it was braced above you to circle around your clit, the pressure just enough to send you back towards your peak. “This cunt belongs to me now, y’hear?”

“Yes- fuck.” You babbled, and when he whispered against you to finally come, you did so with no hesitation. Your legs gripped him tighter against you, his thrusts shorter but more forceful with the constraint. With your cunt clenching around him as you sighed through the aftershocks of your orgasm, he removed his hand to suddenly grab your chin, looking you in the eyes.

“Where should I-“

“Inside me, inside me please.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with you. But then you clenched down on his length again and his hips stuttered against you, a low groan escaping him. Reinvigorated, he began fucking you even harder, which had seemed impossible. 

“Take it, take my cum like a good girl- that’s it-“ his words left him as he finally finished, his hips pumping as he cursed and spilled his warm spend inside you. You hummed at the feeling of it, the tiny thrusts as he pumped you full of him dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. 

When he finally pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your opening, he looked back at your face with a sly smile. 

“I hope you have some RadAway at home.”

____

The Ghoul didn’t bring you back into the city. He seemed to think you were experienced enough to handle the last hundred yards of desert without him. I’ll come back later for the rest of my caps, I have some business I need to deal with. Did you feel a little bad that you were cheating him out of three hundred caps? Yes. But you hadn’t thought this far when you’d paid him the first time, and now it was too late. 

You barely said goodbye. 

Once you were out of sight, you took off running in the opposite direction, only looking behind you once to make sure no one was watching or worse, following. 

You were free.

____

Well, you were free for about two days. 

Then, one evening, you sheltered yourself in an abandoned house. Two stories, though you only peeked in the upper story to see if there was anything worth grabbing. You didn’t want to risk the floor falling out from under your feet. 

A noise in the doorway draws your attention upwards, to where the Ghoul stands, silhouetted in the setting sun, like he had just left for a second, not for days.

You’re allowed a split moment of happiness at the sight of the familiar figure before you recognize what's in his hands. You barely have a second to try and escape before, like a flash, he whips the lasso around your torso, drawing it tight and pulling you closer as you struggled against the rope. But it held fast, and with every passing second you were losing ground. Finally the pressure of the rope was too much and you collapsed to the ground, the sun bearing down in your eyes until a shadow fell over your face. 

“Y’know, when I went back to your little… Rod-e-o to collect on the final portion of my payment, I really expected to see you there. Tellin’ people you regret ever leaving. Maybe I’d have to rough you up a bit for the caps, though I’m sure you’d enjoy that. So imagine my surprise when I find out your father has put up a reward for whoever finds ya and brings ya back.”  He laughed, a cruel and humorless thing. “I’ll get paid for takin’ you out and takin’ you in. And the word around town is that there’s a man there willin’ to take you off your father’s hands.” 

His last words made your stomach sink, more than anything else he had said. It was something your father had threatened, even if he hadn’t meant it as a threat. Maybe he thought it was your dream to marry and have children. But you knew that whatever man he picked for you to marry would be powerful, powerful enough to ensure that your father would remain in office until he died. 

And powerful men were cruel. 

“No-” You gasped out, suddenly out of breath. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” The Ghoul tuts softly, leaning down. “D’ya really think a week is enough experience to survive out here?”

“I won’t go back.” You spit, renewing your struggle against the rope. “You can’t make me.” 

If you were a complete idiot, you’d say: I’d rather die than go back. Because while, in spirit, it was true, you knew that he would take your word for it. And you really didn’t want to tempt him to put a bullet through your brain. 

You may have fucked him, but you certainly weren’t anything special to him. 

“You don’t have much of a choice, sweetheart.” 

“He wants to marry me off!” You said, like saying it indignantly would change his mind about taking you in as a bounty. “I refuse.” 

“And what’ll you do when I drag you back?” 

Find a way to escape again, even if it takes years. 

Like he read the answer in your eyes, he stood up straight. 

“I sympathize, I really do-” You sincerely doubted it, but let him keep talking, “but unless you’ve got something better to offer me, I’m afraid you’re going in.” 

“How many caps is he offering you?”

“600.”

“I have more saved.” You laughed, though it lacked any actual humor. “Every cap he gave me for years, I’ve squirreled away. Not letting me leave my room really helped me save money.” 

“And how, exactly, are you going to get to your stash without your daddy finding you?” 

You tried to find kindness in his words and were surprised when you did. Though he may not have meant it, he had already given you a perfect out the night before. 

“No self-respecting man is going to want to marry a woman who fucked a ghoul. And no mayor will tolerate his daughter making a fool of him like that.”

For a moment, you think he takes offense to this. But then a smile creeps across his face, hot and hungry.

“Well then, I think we can come to an agreement.” 

[simplepotatofarmer]

c!rivals duo au that i've been spinning in my head.

techno moves into a new home. the previous owners said it was a bit strange, especially the old shed that's flush against the house, looking out of place. it's locked, has been for years, but it's never felt right to them. when techno cleans it out, he notices a loose board. behind the board, a missing brick, and inside the hole: a stack of papers.

reading them, they seem to be pages of someone's journal. some pages carry multiple entries. they mostly talk about how many days have passed, the sound of birds or rain outside, how the person writing wishes they could go outside, just for a bit. techno assumes they must've come from some shut-in, maybe someone bedridden. he doesn't throw them away for some reason but weeks go by before he remembers to replace the brick and fix the board.

when he goes to do so, there's more pieces of paper.

something strange is going on. how did they get there? no one's been on his property, he's certain. the dogs would've known. and the entries.... they read less like someone shut-in because of illness or disability but like someone who is being held against their will. it's not the kind of weird techno signed up for.

he buys a couple cameras to put up around the yard and he checks the footage in the morning. nothing. a rabbit that dug in under the fence but hurried away when it smelled the dogs but nothing more. except there's more pages. he pulls everything out of the shed. he checks the crawlspace under the house.

part of him feels bad for filling in the hole because if it's not a prank, then whoever is writing these entries is going through a heck of a time. but he fills it in. he doesn't check the next day despite wanting to. he reads the news. a body was found about thirty miles away. john doe. it happens.

the next morning, curiosity finally gets the best of him and he goes to check the shed. it's locked, just like it was when he first moved in. he never had the key so he had to cut it off but it's the same lock. when he cuts it off again (the bolt cutters slip just like the first time and leave a mark in the door just like the first time), the pages are there in the hole. the same ones.

he thinks he has to be going crazy, right? he goes to compare these pages to the ones he saved but they're gone. checks the date. that can't be right. did he just hallucinate an entire month? the next day, he checks the hole first thing in the morning. another piece of paper.

on a wild whim, techno takes a piece of paper, writes a short message, and puts it in the hole.

he doesn't expect a reply. but he gets one: 'sam? is this a trap?'

techno begins communicating with the person writing the letters. he asks them what their name is. what's happening. dream explains he's being held captive. he doesn't know where. he makes jokes sometimes and draws smiley faces and once the only response techno got to his message was the word 'idiot' in caps. underlined.

he pours over everything dream tells him, looking for clues. missing persons turns up nothing. it's like dream never existed. then one day, there's a news article. a body found. john doe. dumped around thirty miles away from where techno lives.

the next morning, techno wakes up and goes to the shed. it's locked, just like it was when he first moved in. he never had the key so he had to cut it off but it's the same lock. when he cuts it off again (the bolt cutters slip just like the second time and leave a mark in the door just like the second time), the pages are there in the hole. the same ones.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Machinist 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible bullying, misogyny, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your new boss sets his sights on you. (short!reader)

Characters: August Walker

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your forehead pinches and your eyes singe. Your brows dip as you focus on your tasks, your hands firm on the small cylinder as you smooth the edge. Your work is tedious and precise, but you work off muscle memory. It all comes naturally. 

You lean in as you finish off the small piece, slowly pulling it away from the spinning wheel. You hit the stop and admire your handiwork briefly and label it before putting the piece aside in its coordinated container. You keep your space as tidy as you can, as organized as possible to avoid anything missing or overlooked. 

You lean on the tall stool you never use; it’s too high and this job isn’t really made for sitting. You take off your safety glasses and pull the bandana down from over your hairline to sop up your sweat. Your shoulders are tight and sore and your lower back tugs from your half-bent posture. 

You fix your bandana and near the work table again. Your old station was too high and now this one somehow is too low. It’s like a cruel trick. 

You pull the next blueprint up on the screen, clacking on the keys to zoom. It’s simple. You’re sent the schematics and you make whatever’s needed. It is a less than exciting job but it pays the bills. 

As you put your materials out in front of you and ready the borer, the noise of the factory forms a calamitous wall around you. You’ve learned to tune it out, you hardly notice when Bill swears at his lathe or Joe and Sakir argue over one thing or another. You keep to your work. You keep to yourself. 

Before you can start your next job, you sense a shift in the air. Voices quiet, machines slow and some stop. You peer over but can’t see much from your vantage in the corner. You claimed the station even though the air flow is crap. You prefer that you’re not center among the chaos. 

You begin by shaping the steel into a flat circle, then bore a hole in the middle. You’re going to have to be careful with how thin the sheet is but any thicker and it will impinge the hinge in the blueprint. You’ll have to make that too. 

The odd lull seems to flow across the factory floor like a tide. You peer up only as the air seems to stagnate. You see a man approaching. You don’t recognise him but he’s not very much different than most men you work with; ball cap, plaid shirt, that overly macho stance. 

Unlike most factory men, he isn’t built like a noodle or with an extra pouch around his middle. He’s tall and lumbering and his shoulders broad. Across his upper lip, he sports a dark mustache, and his blue are somehow bright and dark at once. 

“Hello,” he approaches as his bold tone rolls like thunder, “machinist?” 

Your brows knot together curiously as you shut off the borer and set aside the parts. You turn to him completely, “yes.” 

“Ah,” he reaches into the bin and takes out the cylinder you just finished, “fine work. Detailed. The labeling is clever.” 

You’re wary. You’re used to the men talking down to you. It’s not that unusual but something about him is loftier than you’re used too. 

“Engineer?” You wonder. He has to be. Their degrees seem to overload their egos in a certain kind of way. 

“Supervisor,” he puts the part back in the green container, “first day. Did you not receive the notice?” 

“I did,” you assure him. You read the notice on the lunchroom wall but it didn’t matter much to you. He isn’t the first replacement to pass through the position, especially since the buyout. 

“August Walker,” he offers his large hand. 

You eye it and reach with your glove, mindless of the darkened fabric, and dully recite your name. He squeezes, in the way that men do, trying to prove their strength. You simply allow him his little display before rescinding your hand. 

“How long have you worked here?” He asks. 

You look around. You notice Bill watching and a few others trying to act like they aren’t. You know what they’re thinking. If fat needs to be trimmed, naturally it should be the girl. 

“Three years,” you answer. 

“Really? Work like this, I’d have guessed longer,” he muses, “by looking at you, though, I might have guessed you just started.” 

“Mm,” you grumble and turn back to your parts. 

“Compliment,” he says bluntly. 

“Right,” you utter. “Got work orders.” 

“So, you do,” he agrees, “but I’m your boss.” 

You hesitate and pull your hands back from the table. You face him again as he stands on the other side of the table’s arm. You step up to your side and look up at him. 

“Is there something I missed? A task I should focus on first, sir?” You ask. 

He snorts and one side of his mouth lifts up in amusement, “not much for water cooler talk, huh?” 

“With due respect, I’m on the clock.” 

"Due respect," he echoes.

His eyes flick up and down and you withhold your discomfort. It isn’t unusual. Your coworkers are more often in miserable marriages or eternally single. They all can’t help but ogle you now and again, even if you dress exactly like them. Nothing special. Not the girls at the bar or the wives they once loved. 

“Well then, maybe I’ll run into in the lunchroom and you can tell me all about yourself,” he plants his hands on the table and leans over just slightly, “I’m dying to know how someone like you ended up in a place like this.” 

You tweak a brow and cross your arms. Right. He’s one of those. Just like the rest of them. This isn’t your place, you’re an intruder. 

“I mean, why would you come here and sweat over all this dirty work when you could be put up in a kitchen, huh?” He wonders with a smirk, “but I’ve seen the men around here, none of them got the guts to put you where you belong.” 

Your chest rises and falls as a swell of anger comes over you. You know the best way to react is not to. So, you don’t. 

“Sir, I’m right at home right here,” you assure him and turn back to your station. 

You ignore him as you adjust your glasses and adjust a setting on the lather. What you wouldn’t do to put his face to the grinder. He isn’t worth the damage his thick skull would do to the wheel. 

[lvnleah]

Marry Me | Leah Williamson

Leah proposes to you but it’s a little all over the place…

word count: 1k

Leah sat nervously in the changing room, twisting her water bottle cap off and on while her mind drifted away. She’d been thinking about proposing for what felt like forever, but every time she imagined actually doing it, her hands would sweat, her heart would race, and her words would tangle up in her head.

She had no clue how to propose.

You’d been together for three years and before that, you were friends for a while. She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous, all she had to do was pull out a ring and ask three words.

Beth, Lotte, and Kim sat in the corner of the locker room after training, laughing about something, but Leah didn’t hear them as she walked up. She was too busy rehearsing her words in her mind. Beth noticed Leah’s quiet approach and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s with the serious face?” Beth asked, smirking. “You look like you’re about to give us bad news.”

Leah sighed, sitting down next to them and leaning back against the wall. “I need your help. It’s… big.”

Kim’s eyebrows shot up. “Big? As in, ‘I’m moving to Spain’ big? Or ‘I’m going to quit football and open a bakery’ big?”

“No, no,” Leah waved off Kim's playful exaggerations, though the thought of running away from the moment did cross her mind. “It’s just… I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Lotte’s face lit up with a grin. “Finally!” she said, nudging Beth. “We’ve been waiting for this.”

“Yup, three years, and you’ve taken this long? You’ve gotta step up your game, Le,” Beth teased with a wink.

Leah rubbed the back of her neck. “I know, I know. But now that I’m actually going to do it, I don’t even know how to start. What if I mess it up?”

“You won’t mess it up,” Kim reassured her. “Just speak from the heart, and she’ll say yes. No one’s gonna turn down Leah Williamson.”

Lotte nodded. “And you don’t have to do some crazy over-the-top thing unless that’s what she wants. Keep it simple. You’ve got this.”

Leah smiled softly at her friends, their confidence giving her the push she needed. “Thanks, I just… I want it to be special, you know? She deserves that.”

Beth clapped a hand on her shoulder. “She already thinks the world of you. You’ve got the hard part sorted.”

Leah spent weeks planning the perfect proposal. She wanted it to be meaningful, something that would make your heart race the way hers did every time she looked at you. Tonight, it was finally happening.

The living room was unrecognisable. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, magical glow across the space. Dozens of white roses filled the room, their soft fragrance mixing with the faint scent of candles flickering on the mantle. Leah stood in the centre, nerves buzzing in her chest, waiting for you to come home.

As soon as she heard the key turn in the lock, her heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath, rehearsing her words for what felt like the hundredth time. You walked in, pausing in the doorway as your eyes widened at the sight before you.

“Leah…” you whispered, your voice laced with wonder. “What is all this?”

Leah stepped toward you, her usual confidence replaced with a nervous energy that made her stomach flutter. She had rehearsed, prepared for this moment, but standing here now, seeing the love and surprise in your eyes, the words felt caught in her throat.

“I, um, I wanted to do something special,” she began softly, her hands fidgeting before she quickly shoved them into her pockets. “You’ve been everything to me these past three years. More than I could ever put into words, really. And I wanted tonight to be something you’d remember forever.”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding as you glanced around the room, then back at her. “Leah… this is beautiful.”

Leah swallowed, feeling her pulse quicken. “You’re beautiful. And you make every day better just by being in it.” She pulled out a small velvet box from her pocket, her hands trembling ever so slightly. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for so long, but I kept waiting for the right moment. Then I realised… any moment with you is the right one.”

She took a step forward, her voice growing steadier as she gazed into your eyes. “Take my hand.”

You blinked, not fully understanding as your heart raced in your chest. “Why?”

Leah’s lips curled into a soft, nervous smile as she lowered herself onto one knee. “Because I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand!”

Your breath hitched, the weight of her words sinking in as you covered your mouth in shock. Leah held out her hand, and you reached for it, tears welling in your eyes.

“Is this really happening?” you whispered, a smile breaking through your disbelief.

Leah nodded, her gaze never leaving yours. “It’s happening. You’re the love of my life, and I can’t imagine spending a single day without you. Will you marry me? Be my wife?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. It was just the two of you, in this perfect moment, surrounded by flowers, lights, and the warmth of each other’s love. You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you dropped to your knees in front of her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice catching as you held her close. “A thousand times yes.”

Leah laughed softly, her tears slipping down her face as she pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger. The diamond sparkled in the candlelight, but it was nothing compared to the way your eyes shone with happiness.

“You didn’t mess it up,” you whispered, laughing through your tears. “You always joked you would.”

Leah smiled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I was terrified I would.”

“Well, you didn’t,” you whispered, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. “This was perfect. You’re perfect.”

[gunnerfc]

Replacement? | Steph Catley x Matildas!Reader (18+)

Summary: You get called up to the national team for the first time after making big waves in the women’s A-Leauge. After hearing just how good you are, Steph feels like her position on the team is threatened.

Warnings: age gap (R is early twenties/close friends with Kyra), fingering (r receiving), oral (steph receiving), pet names for R (“good girl”, “pretty girl”), Steph being called ‘captain’ during sex, Steph being kind of mean, thigh riding (Steph)

WC: 3.4K

AN: in honor of Arsenal's win in front of 60K! 🤪

Steph ignored the notifications from Instagram and Twitter, knowing it was the squad announcement for The Matildas’ upcoming friendlies against New Zealand. She knew her name was on the list without having to look. It was Kyra’s voice that pulled her from her thoughts as she was eating. 

“Y/N finally got a call-up! It’s about time,” the midfielder all but shouted. Steph’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Y/N? She hadn't heard your name before but you were seemingly close with her younger Arsenal teammate.

Before Steph could ask who you were, Caitlin beat her to it. “Who’s Y/N,” the forward asked in between bites. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, we played together in the youth teams! She’s a left back just like you Steffy,” Kyra explained, directing her last statement towards the defender. 

“Where is she playing now? Back Home,” Caitlin asked, more interested in knowing about you than Steph was. 

“Yeah, for Perth I think,” the midfielder responded as she picked up her phone again to text you ‘congrats’ on getting called up for The Matildas.

“She’s really good, I’m surprised it took this long for her to get called up,” Kyra added after sending her text. “Might have to watch out for her, Steph,” Kyra joked as she stood to go join Alessia and Vic at their table. 

Steph lightly chuckled at the younger girl’s words, trying to ignore how Kyra was singing your praises about how good you were. The thought of you, who she didn’t even know, plagued her thoughts the rest of the day. 

Steph would be lying if she said Kyra's words didn't affect her. She knew the young midfielder was just joking but her words sent her into a spiral. The Matildas’ captain spent the next few days before they had to leave for Sydney watching any and every video she could find of you playing. 

And Kyra was right, you are good. Normally she would be excited for new call-ups, wanting to see everyone get the chance to represent Australia and bask in that feeling of getting their first cap. But something was different with you, something Steph couldn't place her finger on. 

After a long flight from London to Sydney, the three Arsenal players were finally headed to the team hotel. They were some of the last to arrive, having a later game than some of the others. A staff member met them in the lobby with room assignments and keys for the stay and Steph thanked god when she was given a room to herself this camp. It meant she could be deep in thought about you without having someone question if she was okay. 

It was late when they arrived, most of the team had already eaten and retired to their rooms for the night knowing tomorrow would be full of nonstop training. It wasn’t until the next morning at the team breakfast that Steph saw you in person for the first time. The defender couldn’t spot you right away but she heard your voice that she immediately recognized from the numerous post-match interviews she watched of you.

Steph subtly looked around the room as she fixed her plate, following your voice to a table with Kyra and Mary. The three of you were deep in conversation about something Steph had no knowledge of and she had to force herself to look away from you to find her seat at a table with Caitlin, Hayley, and Alanna. 

“Why do you look so pissed this morning,” the Man City player questioned almost immediately after Steph sat down.

Steph’s eyes were wide at the accusation, having thought she was keeping her expressions under control. The defender went to answer but her Arsenal teammates beat her to it. “Her replacement is here,” Caitlin laughed, receiving a glare from Steph.

“Who? Y/N,” Hayley spoke, nodding her head in your direction. Caitlin answered, telling her she was correct which drew a laugh from both Alanna and Hayley. 

Steph ignored the trio making jokes about you taking her place, hoping to get on the field as quickly as possible. She was determined to show Tony that he didn’t need to consider someone else for the friendlies, that she had it covered.

Steph opted to sit by herself on the bus ride to the pitch, tuning out her teammates and thoughts about with music. During all the warm-ups the training staff had the team doing, Steph’s eyes never left you. You caught her eye a few times, sending her a friendly smile each time but only getting a glare in response. 

You weren't sure why Steph was seemingly annoyed with you, you hadn’t even officially met her yet. Tony had split the team into different groups based on positions to run through different drills and you took this opportunity to introduce yourself to Steph.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, you’re Steph right,” You had a bright smile on your face as you spoke to her while some of the other defenders ran through the drill. 

“That’s nice, but you should be focusing on what we’re doing,” Steph gave you a pointed look, nodding toward your teammates. Steph didn’t look at you long enough to see the confused look on your face and it didn’t help that you could hear Alanna snicker behind you.

You shook off Steph cold attitude and did exactly as she said. You focused on what the staff were saying and how your fellow defenders ran the drill. You noticed slight mistakes they made that allowed for a goal from the forwards and took it upon yourself to correct them when it was your turn. 

You did exactly that as you tackled the ball from Hayley, allowing Lydia to safely collect the ball. As your foot connected with the ball, you could hear encouraging shouts from Kyra and Mary on the sidelines, cheering you on. You were the only defender that kept one of the forwards from scoring.

“Good job, kid,” the Real Madrid player praised as she offered you her hand to help you up. You took her hand, sending a small smile as a thank you before joining the other defenders.

Steph had a scowl on her face as she watched you successfully tackle Hayley. She knew you were good, she spent the last few days analyzing everything about your style of play. What pissed her off was that you seemed to not realize how good you were, that everything you need always worked out in your favor without you really having to apply much effort. 

“Still think she’s going to take your place,” Alanna quipped from behind her, laughing at the captain’s face. 

For the rest of the training, Steph tried to ignore you. Each time you did something well, the staff and players were cheering you on and it was getting to her. Training finally came to an end a few hours later and everyone was ready to get back to the hotel for showers and to relax. Throughout training, you got closer with Alanna and Ellie, and from Steph’s point of view, she saw it as a connection forming that might translate on the field.

Steph found her seat on the bus but before she could get her headphones out, Caitlin joined her in the seat next to her. “Y’know, if you weren’t being so closed off, you would see just how nice she was,” the forward teased, earning a laugh from the two who sat with them at breakfast. 

“Fuck off, Caitlin,” the defender growled, hitting play on a song to tune everything out. Caitlin laughed at her before getting up to sit next to Alanna. Steph was pissed at the idea of you starting over in the first game and considering how well you did in practice, that seemed like a possibility. 

Returning to her hotel room, she quickly headed for the shower, needing to wash away every thought from training. You had gotten under her skin without meaning to and it was driving her crazy. Steph quickly got dressed before heading to the conference room for dinner, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to her. Though it wasn’t many given that they could see the anger on her face. 

She didn’t want anyone to question her so she bit the bullet and sat down at the same table from this morning, though this time Ellie had joined the group. This time she had to listen to the four of them talk about how good you were, which she knew they were just trying to mess with her.

From your table with Kyra, Mary, and Charli you kept looking in Steph's direction, hoping she would look up from her food and make eye contact with you. She might have brushed you off the entire day for no reason but for some reason, you felt drawn to her. You watched as she finished her food, not bothering to stay after she was done as she quickly stood up from the table to dispose of her plate. 

You watched her quickly leave to head back to her room and you took this as an opportunity to speak to her alone. You told your friends goodnight and were out the door just as quickly as Steph was. You found her room and stood outside, debating whether or not you should knock. 

The part of you that wanted to confront your captain won out as you lifted your hand to knock on the door. On the other side of the door, Steph groaned at the sound not wanting to face anyone again. Without looking through the peephole, Steph jerked the door open, coming face to face with the one person she couldn't stop thinking about.

“Hi,” you mumbled as you locked eyes with Steph. Her jaw was clenched and you'd be lying if you weren’t a little turned on at the sight of her pissed off, especially with you.

“What do you want,” the defender huffed, annoyance lacing her words as she spoke.

“Um, I just… I just wanted to say I was sorry if I did something during training to make you mad. It wasn’t my intention to do so,” you stuttered, finding the carpeted floor much more interesting. 

Steph watched you fiddle with your hands as your eyes stayed locked on the floor. Steph lightly scoffed at your words, of course, you came to apologize for something you weren't even sure you did. 

“Look at me when you’re talking to me. I’m your captain,” Steph had never pulled the captain card with anyone before, but something about this was different. 

You quickly looked up at the older woman, your face heating up from your slight embarrassment. You nodded your head, letting her know you understood. Steph’s eyes scanned up and down your body, before her eyes locked with yours again. Without saying anything, Steph pushed her door open further and stepped to the side, allowing you into her room.

You felt excitement fill your body at what might happen once you stepped through the threshold. The door was closed quickly behind you and you were roughly pushed against it. Lips were on yours before you could realize it, kissing you harshly. You moaned into the kiss, your hands coming to rest on Steph’s neck as hers kept your hips pressed against the door.

Your lips moved against each other roughly, lightly biting each other’s lip as you made out. Steph pulled away first, her eyes dilated as she took in your dazed state. Your breathing was heavy as you locked eyes, letting her dictate what happened between you.

Steph pulled you further into the room, stopping at the foot of the large bed. “Be a good girl and strip,” the older woman instructed, eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded as you quickly undressed, throwing your clothes off the side. Steph’s eyes took in your naked form, licking her lips as she did so. You could feel that you were already wet and Steph hadn't touched you yet. The defender took her time undressing herself and it was your turn to check her out. 

Steph pushed you onto the bed, nodding her head up to tell you to scoot up the bed. You listened as your breathing picked up, watching as Steph climbed up the bed before straddling one of your thighs. You both shuddered at the contact, the room growing warmer as the seconds ticked by.

You felt yourself growing wetter the longer Steph went without touching you, attempting to rub your thighs together out of instinct but failing as Steph’s thigh was in the way. “You listen well, pretty girl,” the defender teased watching your chest rise and fall rapidly. 

“Please,” you croaked out, needing her to touch you, to make you cum. The pet name makes you feel weak.

Steph smirked down at you, raising her pointer ringer to your lips, pushing in on the for you to suck. You did as she wanted, sucking on her finger as you held eye contact with her. Steph’s brain short-circuited as she watched you suck on her finger before adding her middle finger as well. Steph pulled her fingers from your mouth with a quiet “pop,” a string of saliva connecting your lips to her two fingers. 

She trailed her fingers down your torso, leaving a wet trail in their wake. When she reached your dripping cunt, she smirked to herself at how wet you already were. Tentatively, she pushed both fingers into you, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. You moaned at the feeling, your head falling back onto the pillows that were propped on the headboard. 

“Faster, p-please,” you whined below her, needing more from her. Steph loved hearing you beg her to fuck you and she listened to you, speeding up her fingers slightly. 

Steph watched from her place on your thigh as two of her fingers thrust into you, feeling herself grow wetter at the sight of her fingers glistening with your cum. You could feel how wet she was against your skin, wanting to make her feel the way she was making you feel but your mind was preoccupied with the pleasure she was giving you.

The wet sounds of her fingers fucking into you mixed with your low moans filled the room, driving the defender crazy. Her fingers sped up again, needing to hear you get louder, she needed to see you fall apart. Her two fingers that were pushing inside you hit that familiar spot, drawing a loud moan from your lips. Steph's fingers continued hitting that spot as a familiar coil tightened in your lower stomach, you were so close to cumming for the first time.

"P-please, Steph. I've been a good girl, please let me cum," you croaked out in between moans, your eyes welling up as the pleasure. Hearing you beg became one of Steph's favorite sounds in that moment and she was determined to make you beg again.

"Are you sure you deserve it, pretty girl, I don't know if you've been good enough," the defender husked, fingers curled inside you.

Steph took in the sight of you spread open for her as her fingers fucked into you. Your back arched as you threw your head back against the pillows, hands gripping the hotel sheets beneath you. Your hips bucked up to meet her thrusts, helping her fingers go deeper.

You locked eyes with your captain and she could see the desperate look in them. "I've been good, I promise! please let me cum, p-please" you choked out, eyes screwed shut as a few tears escaped from the sides. You weren't sure you could hold out for any longer. 

"Cum for me pretty girl," Steph instructed as she drilled her fingers into you.

You came on her fingers hard, your eyes tightly closed as your hips bucked. Steph watched as you fell apart, keeping her fingers moving inside you, helping to ride your high. You could feel a second orgasm quickly approaching.

Steph's hips were grinding against your thigh as she placed her free hand on your lower stomach, pressing down on your skin as she thrust her fingers. You came again around her fingers as you chanted her name, filling the hotel room with your moans.

Steph pulled her fingers out of you as her hips moved against your thigh, chasing her own high.  She brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting you on her fingers as she moved against you. You opened your eyes slightly and watched the defender fuck herself on your thigh as she sucked her fingers clean. You let go of the sheets to place your hands on her hips, guiding her to her first orgasm. Steph fell forward, catching herself with one hand beside your body, the other holding yours that rested on her hip.

The feeling of her clit hitting your flesh was almost enough to make her cum. You watched as she chased her high and flexed your thigh to help her. It was Steph's turn to moan loudly as she made a mess all over your thigh. 

Steph kept her hips moving slightly as she came down from her high, not wanting to lose contact just yet. You sat up so you were face to face with your captain, pulling her into a deep kiss. You moaned at the distant taste of yourself on her mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. Steph's hips came to a stop on your thigh as you broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily.

"I think that's two to one, pretty girl. Care to make it even," your captain teased, a smirk on her face. You matched her smirk as you flipped the two of you over, leaning Steph against the pillows that rested against the headboard. 

You left harsh kisses down her torso leaving marks to form in your wake, pulling away as you reached her bellybutton. "Is that order from my captain," you looked up at her with hooded eyes, seeing a deep look of arousal in her eyes. 

"Yes," the older woman husked, watching as your smirk returned to your lips. You placed a quick kiss right below her belly button and a few nips on her hip bone before sliding further down the bed to face her still dripping core. 

With your right hand, you held her thigh open, stretching her out for easier access. Your left held her thigh that was now placed over your shoulder. You blew lightly against her, the cool sensation making her jolt and her jaw fell open with a quiet groan. 

Steph moved her hands to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head closer to her. You gave small nips to clit before sucking the bud into your mouth drawing a loud moan from the woman above you. Her hips were moving again as she moved against your face in an effort to gain more pleasure. You pulled away from her clit with a loud noise before quickly thrusting your tongue inside her. 

With the way she was fucking herself on your face and holding your head against her cunt, you hardly had to do anything. The taste of her made you moan, sending vibrations through her that made her bite her lip to quiet herself. The sounds of you fucking her echoed off the hotel walls, driving you to go faster. 

Steph could feel herself getting closer to her orgasm and she fell over the edge when you looked up from between her thighs through hooded eyes. She could see the teasing glint in your eyes which was enough to let go. The defender came all over your face, soaking your mouth and chin.

You would have stayed there longer but the sensitive feeling was too much for the captain as she pulled your head back with the makeshift ponytail. The sight of you with her cum coating your mouth and chin drove her crazy as she sat up to pull you into a searing kiss. 

You both moaned at the taste of her, before pulling away when air became a problem. Both of your breathing was heavy as you stared into each other's eyes.

"Looks like we need a tiebreaker, captain," you teased with a playful smirk, knowing it would get under her skin. Her eyes darkened once more as she flipped your positions.

This was never how you pictured your first call-up to the national team would go. But as you and Steph went back and forth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other, you weren't complaining. You weren't sure what this meant for you and your captain but every part of you hoped that it was something that would continue whenever you saw her next.

[lostreverb]

is it new years yet?

--

(luke cooper x fem!reader) can christmas parties still be fun while heartbroken? kinda.

content: fluff, underage drinking, kissing

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays! here's a little present for you all (loosely based on 2x10 of the office and 'is it new years yet' by sabrina carpenter <3)

--

the dunder mifflin christmas party... was proving to be as boring as you expected it to be. the walls were half-heartedly draped in limp tinsel and cheap decorations that screamed 'we tried, but not really.' and as your aunt phyllis dutifully dragged you from co-worker to co-worker, you were forced to engage in the most awkward small talk. some of her colleagues were polite, while others were... interesting to say the least. the second you were done making the rounds you scurried off, finding a secluded desk in the back a perfect hiding spot from the draining festivities.

finally alone, you checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. scrolling through instagram, you were greeted with another post from your ex looking infuriatingly cozy in matching holiday pajamas with someone new.

"so which one of these sad-sacks are you related to?"

you nearly dropped your phone as you snapped your head up, meeting the dark, curious eyes of an unfamiliar curly-haired boy. his demeanor made him appear as though he only wandered into this tragically depressing event for the free cookies.

"uh, phyllis," you replied, thrown off by his sudden appearance. where the hell had he come from?

"venus? no way." he snickered.

"phyllis," you corrected, unsure how he even got venus from that. "she’s my—"

before you could finish, the boy’s response was cut short by the arrival of your aunt’s boss, michael, who swaggered over—santa hat crooked, digital camera in hand. he threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder.

"luuuuke! lukey luke, my duke!" michael exclaimed, with sickening enthusiam "sneaking around, huh? making out in the back room? classic christmas partayy"

you looked over at luke, who simply let out a nervous chuckle. "no we're not-"

"picture!" before either of you could articulate your protest, the flash went off, blinding you momentarily. "you guys keep it up and you might end up on the front page of the newsletter- naughty naughty kids!" michael beamed at his impromptu masterpiece, ruffling luke’s hair like a proud uncle before wandering off, humming an off-key christmas carol in search of his next victim.

"well, that’s who i'm related to"

"hmm?" you murmured absentmindedly, distracted by another notification. your ex again—this time, a family picture, the both of them grinning like they’d been handpicked for a hallmark card. "yeah uh-"

there was a sudden burst of cheering from the main party room, loud enough to shake the flimsy tinsel on the walls. you and luke exchanged a glance before heading over to investigate.

michael was at the center of the commotion, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery, surrounded by a precarious pyramid of vodka bottles—fifteen of them, to be exact. it was hard to say where he’d gotten them or how he’d managed to sneak them in, but judging by the energy in the room, no one was asking questions.

the party had clearly turned a corner. people were singing, dancing, and chattering animatedly, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a chaotic, boozy camaraderie.

it sucked.

not the party itself, but the fact that while everyone else seemed to be having a good time you were still wrestling with the dull ache of everything you’d been trying to ignore. with a resigned sigh, you strode over to the pyramid and swiped one of the bottles, ignoring michael’s thumbs-up and exaggerated wink as you made your way back to luke.

he was leaning against the desk where you’d left him, arms crossed, a faintly amused expression on his face.

"i hate christmas."

"you ever watch die hard?" luke asked with soft laughter, eyeing you as you unscrewed the cap with a little more force than necessary.

"die hard?" you repeated, the vodka scorching its way down your throat as you took a swig. at least it distracted you from the other kind of burn. "like the bruce willis movie?"

"yeah. the bruce willis christmas classic" he said, leaning back like he was delivering a hot take.

"oh… i guess i forgot about that part" you handed him the bottle, watching as he tipped it back for a drink.

"forgot? it’s literally what the plot revolves around," luke lowered the bottle, giving you a look like you’d just failed a pop quiz.

"yeah okay whatever" you shrugged. "how old are you again?"

"twenty," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"perfect. i’m going to kiss you now."

his eyes widened, but only for a second. "what? uh—cool."

you leaned in, closing the gap between you, but just as your lips met his, a blinding flash lit up the room.

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @evanbabybear @vi0l3tluvsu

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #7

Feb 23-March 1 2024

The White House announced $1.7 Billion in new commitments from local governments, health care systems, charities, business and non-profits as part of the White House Challenge to End Hunger and Build Healthy Communities. The Challenge was launched with 8 billion dollars in 2022 with the goal of ending hunger in America by 2030. The Challenge also seeks to drastically reduce diet-related diseases (like type 2 diabetes). As part of the new commitments 16 city pledged to make plans to end hunger by 2030, the largest insurance company in North Carolina made nutrition coaching and a healthy food delivery program a standard benefit for members, and since the challenge launched the USDA's Summer EBT program has allowed 37 states to feed children over the summer, its expected 21 million low income kids will use the program this summer.

The US House passed a bill on Nuclear energy representing the first update in US nuclear energy policy in decades, it expands the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and reduces reducing licensing fees. Nuclear power represents America's single largest source of clean energy, with almost half of carbon-free electricity coming from it. This bill will boost the industry and make it easier to build new plants

Vice President Harris announced key changes to the Child Care & Development Block Grant (CCDBG) program. The CCDBG supports the families of a million American children every month to help afford child care. The new changes include capping the co-pay families pay to no more than 7% of their income. Studies show that high income families pay 6-8% of their income in childcare while low income families pay 31%. The cap will reduce or eliminate fees for 100,000 families saving them an average of over $200 a month. The changes also strength payments to childcare providers insuring prompt payment.

The House passed a bill making changes to the Small Business Administration’s 8(a) program. The 8(a) is an intensive 9 year program that offers wide ranging training and support to small business owners who are socially and economically disadvantaged, predominantly native owned businesses. Under the current structure once a business reaches over 6.8 million in assets they're kicked off the program, even though the SBA counts anything under $10 million as a small business, many companies try to limit growth to stay on the program. The House also passed a bill to create an Office of Native American Affairs at the SBA, in order to support Native-owned small businesses.

The White House and HUD announced steps to boost the housing supply and lower costs plans include making permanent the Federal Financing Bank Risk Sharing program, the program has created 12,000 affordable housing units since 2021 with $2 billion and plans 38,000 additional units over ten years. As well as support for HUD's HOME program which has spent $4.35 billion since 2021 to build affordable rental homes and make home ownership a reality for Americans. For the first time an administration is making funds available specifically for investments in manufactured housing, $225 million. 20 million Americans live in manufactured housing, the largest form of unsubsidized affordable housing in the country, particularly the rural poor and people in tribal communities.

The Department of Energy announced $336 million in investments in rural and remote communities to lower energy costs and improve reliability. The projects represent communities in 20 states and across 30 Native tribes. 21% of Navajo Nation homes and 35% of Hopi Indian Tribe homes remain unelectrified, one of the projects hopes to bring that number to 0. Another project supports replacing a hydroelectric dam in Alaska replacing all the Chignik Bay Tribal Council's diesel power with clear hydro power. The DoE also announced $18 million for Transformative Energy projects lead by tribal or local governments and $25 million for Tribal clean energy projects, this comes on top of $75 million in Tribal clean energy projects in 2023

Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg put forward new rules to ensure airline passengers who use wheelchairs can travel safely and with dignity. Under the planned rules mishandling a wheelchair would be a violation of the ACAA, airlines would be required to immediately notify the passenger of their rights. Airlines would be required to repair or replace the wheelchair at the preferred vendor of the passenger's choice as well as provide a loaner wheelchair that fits the passenger's needs/requirements

The EPA launched a $3 Billion dollar program to help ports become zero-emission. This investment in green tech and zero-emission will help important transportation hubs fight climate change and replace some of the largest concentrations of diesel powered heavy equipment in America.

the EPA announced $1 Billion dollars to help clean up toxic Superfund sites. This is the last of $3.5 billion the Biden administration has invested in cleaning up toxic waste sites known as Superfund sites. This investment will help finish clean up at 85 sites across the country as well as start clean up at 25 new sites. Many Superfund sites are contained and then left not cleaned for years even decades. Thanks to the Biden-Harris team's investment the EPA has been able to do more clean up of Superfund sites in the last 2 years than the 5 years before it. More than 25% of America's black and hispanic population live with-in 5 miles of a Superfund site.

Bonus: Sweden cleared the final major barrier to become NATO's 32nd member. The Swedish Foreign Minster is expected to fly to Washington to deposit the articles of accession at the US State Department. NATO membership for Sweden and its neighbor Finland (joined last year) has been a major foreign policy goal of President Biden in the face of Russian aggressive against Ukraine. Former President Trump has repeatedly attacked NATO and declared he wants to leave the 75 year old Alliance, even going so far as to tell Russia to "do whatever the hell they want" with European NATO allies

[kabr0ztrousers]

There's this tired worn out guy and he can't help but fantasize about how nice it would be to be a hucow that spends his days getting his chest and dick milked, but everywhere only seems to hire women since it's much easier to induce lactation. He's sitting at this boring desk at work when a mysterious email shows up inviting him to trial run the newest technology in the hucow field!! When he arrives it's better than he can even fathom. Little does he know that this trial run is aired on TV for the entire world to see. People can send in money and control just how fast, slow, hard, or soft the machines milk or fuck him.

Kabr0z Writes episode 63: Reality TV

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: intox; dubcon; implements; restraints; humiliation; coercion; overstim;

A/N: This wasn't requested to be another Chitinid story, but there's only 2 continuities I have ongoing where hucows feature, and this is the one where it isn't an underground practice. I'm not against spinning out another continuity, but couching it where things are already set up helps streamline the process

########################################

A month ago, the old library had been flattened. That was the last interesting thing that had happened in this city, and since then Mike's life has been an unending sequence of cubicle walls and tedious emails. He sighed. Half the world spirited away to be milked stupid, spending the entire remainder of their lives in chemically induced ecstasy to harvest their sexual fluids, and he managed to wind up behind a desk.

Not that Mike hadn't tried, he wrote to his city supervisor, even tried going above his head to regional governor, but was met with the same response every time: his best place was where he was, sat behind a desk so Chitinid anthropologists could study him as the drab monotony of the passing days slowly drove him mad. No wonder they got resistance cells, even if they didn't admit they existed. Of course, everyone knew there was a resistance, libraries don't get demolished via high-caliber autocannons because of termites.

A notification pinged in the corner of the screen Mike had been ignoring for the last hour. A half page of corporate lorem ipsum left behind by his train of thought. He opened the email and scanned it, finger poised over the delete key.

"You have been Selected" came the subject line

Weird, spam didn't exist any more. Nobody had anything to steal, companies didn't have any information to pillage, there wasn't even anything worth destroying. He read on

"Congratulations!

You have been selected to take part in a viability study involving human livestock material harvesting. You have been selected because either you have registered interest with your city supervisor, or your usefulness has been re-evaluated"

Well, he'd definitely made his interest well known. The rest of the email detailed where to go, what to bring, when to be there. One final sentence capped off the message, reminding the recipients that this is in fact not optional. Mike would either go willingly, or he would be taken. That's one way to deal with people not reading their email.

There wasn't much required to bring. Civilian travel documents, ID card, and the clothes on his back. Only he turned up, either everyone else was trying to hide or nobody else was selected from his area, either way, he probably wouldn't find out. Transparency was never at the top of their lists of priorities.

A gunship swung down low, the silent engine didn't even disturb the treetops as the vessel passed within inches of them. A voice came over the loudspeaker, a Chitinid speaking English

"Citizen Lewis, Michael. Identity recognised. Stand by for transfer"

Stand by for transfer. Sounds like he wasn't about to be atomised by weapons fire at least. Always a plus

A confinement field engulfed him. The tingling blue light surrounding you before the world disappeared, replaced with a holding cell. Exactly as expected.

There's no way to measure time in a Chitinid holding cell. The walls are blank, the lighting flat. This one didn't even seem to have a door.

Mike tried to sleep, without success. Chitinids never seemed to realise that blue light stops humans going to sleep, either that or they just didn't care. So he sat on the floor. The ship could be anywhere, going at any speed, there's no way to know. Mike had an idea of where it was probably headed, the human farms were kept in great facilities on the moon. They were visible even without a telescope, even if the ship traffic to and from wasn't.

The lights in the room brightened, the air becoming charged. The whole room was filled with a confinement field. The world flipped, beaming the hapless man down, completely nude, onto a metal table.

He couldn't move, he must have been sent from one confinement field to another. This didn't match what he'd been told about these facilities. Normally the people in these facilities would be held in huge spaces, hundreds of them plugged into machines with little to no conception of privacy. The room Mike found himself in was small, with only the table he was held to and only one device on the ceiling for company. A screen flickered to life, covering an entire wall of the room. Mike could see himself in it, the blue light of the containment casting him in a sickly pallor as the machine on the ceiling whirred to life.

A cup suctioned itself to his crotch as tubes carrying drugs attached themselves to his arms. A voice filled the room "Welcome, citizen, to the game of your life! You're live on channel nine!"

What?

A sound effect played. A number appeared on the screen and drugs pushed into Mike's bloodstream. He gasped as his skin flushed, turning red and immediately glistening with perspiration. Another noise, more drugs. His cock was achingly hard now, starting to throb into the tube surrounding it. The field parted his legs, bringing his knees upwards as a probe pushed against his asshole. Another noise and it pressed in, the cold metal making him wince before a tingling electric current ran through his prostate to the tip of his cock. The noises were speeding up, each one driving more drugs into him. Mike's chest became heavy, tits starting to bud, already leaking creamy milk as his cock dribbled precum.

A different noise, louder, more discordant, accompanied by the quick chattering of a Chitinid. The gentle electric pulsing from the probe in Mike's ass intensified for a moment. His hips bucked as his balls clenched, a rope of cum jetting from the tip of his cock. Then another, and another. The cocktail of alien aphrodisiac flowing into his body kept his cock hard and cooperative, but did nothing to stop his balls aching or the shaft burning as another noise jolted him again. His tits were leaking more now, probes fixing themselves to his nipples to collect the fluids, pumping and sucking the liquid out as the new tits kept growing at an alarming rate.

He groaned, partially from the exertions of the repeated orgasms, partly from the growing pains on his chest. The vocalisation caused a flurry of noises, the drugs hammering into his body causing him to twitch and convulse as a stream of thick cum pumped from his cock, getting thin and watery as his balls emptied out.

Mike's groans grew weaker, turning to wheezing sobs as the stimulation took its toll. His cock was still throbbing, trying to pump out ever more but nothing came, only the clenching of his drained nutsack sending painful lances through him.

The screen went dark. The stimulation stopped.

"Good show! Same time tomorrow!"

####################################

Well, I'll admit I'd lost faith in this one at about the halfway mark but feel like I pulled it back at the end

As always, any requests, ideas, scenarios, lore questions, etc, send an ask. I try to answer non-request asks quickly but if you bundle a question or something with a req, it'll get answered when you get your story