#rust console

[bubmyg]

I won’t get mad abt a stupid tweet I won’t get mad abt a stupid tweet I won’t get mad

[carpediemevents]

Los Angeles Mediterranean Patio Ideas for a substantial Mediterranean backyard tile patio kitchen renovation

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

Also I was like 15 rws consistently on esea I wasn’t just getting on good teams. I’d get lucky sometimes but for the most part if I won I carried. Some little fucking loser that breathes out of his mouth exclusively will cheat in my placement games and then the fucking noobs just cheat because I must be a cheater. Why would I be here if I’m not a retard too.

[etoastie]

Anyone around here happen to know how to fix Tumblr's Discord webhook integration saying "This is not a valid URL" when pasting the webhook URL, I've searched online for those keywords and gotten no hits. After squinting at the network tab it looks like the API is hitting some sort of internal server error and the frontend just doesn't recognize it, but I've tested the webhook url independently and it seems to be working fine.

Could be activity related or something? Docs don't mention any sort of limits.

[societyfolklore]

Trapped Together

Title: Trapped Together

Pairing: Sheild!Bucky Barnes x Sheild!Female Reader

Summary:  A mission doesn’t go as planed. The result?  Bucky and you find yourselves handcuffed together without the key and no easy way out.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Accidental Handcuffs, Forced Proximity, Smut, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Soft Dom Bucky, Mild Dubcon Elements (squint), Mentions of thigh riding, Porn with min plot.. but yeah.. No Beta

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Bucky 108th Bday event – Final square! Square: A2 – ‘I didn’t do a thing’ Card Number: 4B003 The mission was supposed to be simple- just a routine investigation of an old HYDRA base. No hostiles, no active threats, just a sweep for any lingering tech or classified intel. But, of course, things didn’t go to plan.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of rusted metal as you navigated the dimly lit corridors, your boots scuffing softly against the cracked concrete floor. The remains of outdated HYDRA technology sat abandoned, wires frayed, panels dark, the remnants of a long-dead organization still clutching at relevance. It should have been nothing more than a cleanup job- catalogue the junk, confirm there were no active threats, and get the hell out.

You were scanning a particularly decrepit-looking console, fingers grazing over a series of faded HYDRA insignias, when something clicked.

A sharp snap echoed through the room as a metal cuff clamped down around your wrist.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, instinctively tugging at it.

“What happened?”

Bucky’s voice was immediate, sharp with concern. He was at your side in an instant, his vibranium hand gently gripped your forearm as he inspected the cuff. His brows furrowed as he studied the mechanism, and before you could warn him to be careful, his metal fingers drifted too close.

With a soft hiss, another cuff snapped into place- this time, locking around his vibranium wrist.

You both froze.

“Seriously?” you exhaled, staring at the unforgiving metal that now physically attached you to Bucky Barnes.

He let out a slow, deliberate breath through his nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your heart hammered as you gave the restraint a sharp tug, testing it. The metal didn’t so much as shift. You turned, twisting your wrist, but Bucky moved with you- because there was no getting away.

Panic crept into your voice. “Okay, okay, we can just take these off, right?”

Bucky pulled at his side, first experimentally, then harder. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he yanked at it, but the cuff refused to budge. His frown deepened as he examined the lock.

“No keyhole.”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘no keyhole’?”

“I mean,” he muttered, voice edged with irritation, “there’s no keyhole. No latch, no release.”

Your stomach did an uncomfortable flip. “So… what? We cut them off?”

Bucky flexed his vibranium fingers. “They’re HYDRA-made. If I try to break them, I could crush your wrist in the process.”

The realization settled between you, heavy and unshakable.

You inhaled sharply. “Fantastic.” Then, with far less patience: “We’re stuck.”

Bucky exhaled, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Yup.”

And then the inevitable happened.

“This is your fault!” you snapped, yanking at the cuff in frustration, your wrist burning from the chafing metal.

Bucky had the audacity to smirk. “Doll, I didn’t do a thing.”

“You- ugh!” You yanked again, but it was pointless. You weren’t getting out of this without cutting off his damn arm, and even you weren’t cruel enough to suggest that he try to dismantle parts of it.

Being this close to him was already annoying on the best of days. His constant 'follow my lead' attitude, the way he always seemed so sure of himself- it drove you insane. And now? Now you were literally stuck to him. Your pulse kicked up for reasons you refused to acknowledge, and you scowled, masking the unease with irritation.

You huffed, turning your attention back to the restraint. “We need to find a way to break these.”

Bucky tilted his head, looking far too entertained. “Oh, I dunno. Could be fun like this.”

Your glare could have cut through steel. “We are not staying cuffed together, Barnes.”

Bucky shrugged, tugging lightly at the cuffs again. “I’m sure Stark will get us out of these once we get home.”

You grumbled under your breath. “Great. Our extraction isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. "Guess that means we're getting real cozy till then, huh?" He glanced down at where your wrists were bound together and smirked. "Hope you don’t snore, Doll."

Despite your efforts there was no solution. The cuffs were far beyond ordinary restraints. No brute force, no backdoor override, no simple trick was going to free you. And with Bucky’s metal arm restrained, even he wasn’t willing to risk hurting you to break them.

Which meant you had no choice but to wait for Tony to take a look.

And that? That was going to be a problem.

By the time night fell, exhaustion was settling in. You both managed to find a somewhat decent place to rest- an old, creaking bed in a safehouse nearby. The mattress was thin, the sheets smelled vaguely of dust and damp, but it was better than nothing. But sleeping while attached to Bucky Barnes was proving to be a nightmare.

“Stop moving,” you grumbled, trying to get comfortable without your arm getting yanked.

Bucky exhaled through his nose. “Kinda hard when you’re sprawled all over me, Doll.”

Your cheeks burned. “I’m not- ”

But you were.

There was no way around it- his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against his side. Every shift, every twitch of his muscles, sent a jolt of awareness through you. The heat of his body, the solid weight of him, the sheer size of him against you…

You tried to shift away, but the cuffs made it impossible. Every tiny movement just pressed you closer, your body molding against his like a puzzle piece that fit all too well. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell, steady, unbothered- while your own breath was coming far too fast for comfort.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, twisting slightly, only to freeze as Bucky's grip instinctively tightened around you.

“Doll,” his voice was low, rough with sleep, “if you keep wiggling like that, neither of us are getting any rest.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. “I’m not- ” But you were, again, shifting just enough to feel the tension coiled in his muscles, the slow flex of his vibranium fingers resting against your waist.

You swallowed hard, willing your body to ignore the way he felt against you. But it was impossible- the warmth, the solid weight, the steady, controlled power that had you feeling far too aware of every single breath he took. You could smell him, the faint traces of sweat and gunpowder mixed with something unmistakably Bucky.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Just go to sleep.”

Silence stretched between you before Bucky let out a slow chuckle, the vibrations rolling through his chest, through you.

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

And somehow, despite everything, you did.

You blinked awake, mind still foggy. The sky outside the safehouse window had shifted to muted shades of gray, the first signs of dawn creeping in through the thin curtains. The air was thick with early morning stillness, broken only by the soft creaks of the old bed beneath you. As you stirred, trying to shift into a more comfortable position, something stopped you.

Something warm. Solid. Heavy. The unmistakable weight of an arm draped over you, pinning you in place. Not just any arm- his arm. The hard, unyielding pressure of metal wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him even as he slept. The sensation was grounding and suffocating all at once, leaving you hyper-aware of every shift, every breath, every slow, unconscious squeeze of his vibranium fingers against your bare skin.

But it wasn’t just his arm. Sometime during the night, you had gotten tangled together, his leg slipped between yours, pressing up against your crotch in a way that made your breath stop. The pressure, subtle yet insistent, had you far too aware of how sensitive you felt, of the heat pooling low in your belly. The way your body responded, the way the tension in the air had shifted from mere discomfort to something else entirely.

You tried to move his hold was  unyielding  so you shifted back.

Only this time your butt was pressed firmly against something unmistakable.

Bucky was hard.

Heat rushed up your spine, your senses suddenly painfully aware of everything- the solid warmth of his chest flush against your back, the slow, deep rhythm of his breathing, and the way his hips had begun rocking against you, even in sleep.

You swallowed hard, torn between panic and something far more dangerous as another slow, instinctive roll of his hips sent a spark of heat straight to your core. You should move- you should wake him up- but then a quiet, needy sound slipped from his lips, muffled where his face had buried against the back of your neck.

His vibranium hand flexed, the cooler metal splaying over your stomach. Skin to metal. Your shirt had ridden up during the night, leaving you bare beneath his touch, and when his thumb brushed the soft skin just beneath your ribs, your entire body tensed. A shiver rolled through you, unbidden, and that’s when you felt it-

Your own arousal.

The ache that pulsed in time with the steady press of his body against yours. The sharp awareness of how easily, how seamlessly, your bodies fit together, the tension stretched so tight between you it felt like a live wire.

You needed to wake him up.

But trapped as you were, there was no room to press your thighs together- only to shift, just barely, along the firm muscle of his leg between yours. The motion sent a ripple of sensation through you, what had you done in the night that had gotten you as wet you were becoming. Shifting your hips again trying to do something to make it better- Bucky growled.

His nose brushed against the back of your neck, breath hot, lips so close to your skin. His hips pressed against you again, slower, deliberate, sending a shockwave through your already tense body. His grip on your stomach tightened, just enough for you to feel it, to need more.

Then came the sharp, teasing graze of teeth against your nape.

His voice was hoarse, rough with sleep and something else entirely when he muttered, “Stop moving, Doll. You’re making it worse.”

His breath fanned against your skin, sending another shudder through you, and suddenly you weren’t sure who was torturing who.

You stiffened, before trying to move away.

"I just- "

"Said stop moving." His grip tightened, pulling you back against him, his leg pushing up harder, and you swallowed the moan that nearly slipped past your lips.

"Been teasing me all damn night in your sleep."

"I didn’t do a thing.”

"Really?" His breath was hot against your ear, voice rough and edged with something dangerous. "'Cause I can smell it, you know..."

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

Bucky's fingers flexed against your bare skin, his tone dark with amusement. "You. Been leaving little wet patches on my leg with all your grinding…"

His words sent another wave of heat through you, your breath hitching as your body betrayed you yet again. Bucky hummed, his lips grazing your neck as his grip on your waist tightened. "Drove me crazy, y'know. All those little sleepy moans while you were riding my leg. Thought I was imagining it at first, but nah- " his teeth nipped at the delicate skin just below your ear, making you jolt, "- you were using me, weren’t you?"

"I wasn’t- "

"You're always such a brat in the field, you a brat in the bed, too, Doll?" His voice was smug, teasing, completely in control now. Your fingers clenched around the cuffed hand as he slowly dragged it down your stomach, his movements deliberate, testing. You tensed, instinctively trying to pull his hand back up, but the metal was unyielding. His fingers merely flexed beneath yours, a silent warning that he could take control if he wanted to.

"Don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart…" Bucky murmured, his lips tracing a slow, heated path down the side of your throat. "Not after all the trouble you've already caused."

Bucky's hand cupped you through your pants, his palm pressing against the damp fabric, making you gasp. A dark chuckle rumbled against your neck as he felt the heat radiating through the thin material.

"Undo your pants," he murmured, the command cutting through the thick haze of tension.

You found yourself shifting, your own shaking fingers undoing the button and pulling down the zipper, Bucky’s hand sliding in without hesitation. The sensation made you arch, your body betraying you as his fingers made contact. A little whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

"All that grinding made you all ache and sensitive, Babydoll…" His metal finger barely pressed your underwear against your swollen clit, the faintest amount of pressure making your breath stutter.

Bucky hummed in satisfaction, his fingers starting a slow, teasing circle over the fabric still covering you. "Bet you've been dripping for me all night," he murmured, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "So wet and needy, and you don’t even wanna admit it."

His hand slid further, fingers pushing past the final barrier of fabric to find you bare beneath, slick and ready. He groaned at the feel of you, his grip tightening as his fingers slipped through your wetness, coating themselves in evidence of your arousal. "Fuck, sweetheart… you're soaking."

A strangled sound caught in your throat as his fingers circled your clit, the cool contrast of metal making you shudder. You tried to resist the pleasure flooding through you, but Bucky was relentless, keeping you spread open with his thigh between yours.

"Bucky- "

"Shh, sweetheart. Just let me feel you," he whispered, voice thick with desire. His hand moved with intent now, slow and devastating strokes that had you trembling against him. "That’s it, good girl… just like that."

His fingers slid lower, teasing along your folds, gathering the slickness that betrayed just how much you wanted this. A wicked smirk ghosted across his lips as he pressed against your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling back, his touch agonizingly light.

"So sensitive," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "So fuckin’ wet for me."

You let out a strangled moan as his metal finger circled your clit again, more pressure this time, more purpose. Heat coiled low in your stomach, each slow stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. Your hips moved before you could stop them, chasing the friction he so cruelly teased you with.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Bucky coaxed, voice laced with dark amusement. "Knew you wanted this. Knew you couldn’t resist."

You barely had time to bite back another moan before he flipped you onto your stomach, his grip firm as he pressed your cuffed hand down against the mattress. His free hand slid to your hip, tugging your pants lower, the cool air ghosting over your bare skin making you shiver.

The bed creaked as he moved behind you, the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone making your breath hitch. The rasp of his zipper sent anticipation curling through your spine, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His own pants coming down, the clank of his metal belt

"Been waiting for this all night," Bucky murmured, his hand smoothing over the curve of your ass before squeezing. You felt your hips raise back to meet his hand, instinctively seeking friction, rubbing against the heavy, hard length pressed against you.

He groaned at the contact, his breath coming out harsher as he gripped your waist, his flesh hand against your skin. "That’s it, sweetheart," he muttered, grinding his cock against you slow and deliberate. "You want it, don’t you?"

You barely had time to answer before his free hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing along your already slick folds. "So fuckin' wet for me," he groaned, his touch purposeful as he spread your arousal with slow, torturous strokes. "Bet you were dreamin' about this, weren't you? Ridin' my leg, gettin' yourself all worked up..."

Your breath stuttered, a whimper slipping from your lips as he pushed a finger inside you properly, curling it just right, making your body jolt. The pleasure was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

"Bucky- " you gasped, barely able to form the words as he worked you open, his touch both devastating and precise.

"Yeah?" His voice was low, teasing, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed another finger in, stretching you further, our cunt clenching and holding onto his fingers. "That feel good, sweetheart? You gonna admit how bad you wanted this?"

Your fingers curled into the sheets, a desperate moan slipping from your lips as he thrust his fingers deeper, stroking the spot that had you trembling.

"Fuck- Bucky, I- " you tried, but your words cut off into a whimper when his thumb circled your clit, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Let me hear you."

Bucky chuckled, dark and pleased, withdrawing his hand only to replace it with the heavy press of his cock against your entrance. "Gonna take my time with you, Doll," he murmured, voice thick with hunger. "Gonna stretch you open nice and slow... make sure you feel every inch."

And then, with a deep, steady push, he sank into you, stretching you inch by inch, until there was nothing left between you but heat, pressure, and the raw, unrelenting pleasure of being completely, utterly filled.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, the weight of him making it impossible to properly move. Your walls fluttering around him as you let out a soft whine.

Bucky’s fingers tightened against your hips, his breath ragged against the back of your neck. “That’s it, not so sassy now, are ya baby?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. His thrusts deepened, each roll of his hips sending pleasure spiking through you. “Just needed my fat cock to make you behave.”

A choked moan escaped your lips, your body arching instinctively, pushing back against him. The stretch, the pressure- it was too much and not enough, and you couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your throat.

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, his pace picking up, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. “Moanin’ like a needy little thing. Thought you hated being stuck with me?”

You couldn’t even answer, couldn’t form words between gasps and whimpers.

“C’mon, sweetheart, use your words,” he taunted, his flesh hand slipping beneath you, fingers finding your clit. “Tell me how good I feel stretching you out.”

Your breath hitched, your back arching as pleasure ripped through you. “Bucky- I- fuck- ”

He groaned, thrusting harder, deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars. “That’s it, take it, baby,” he rasped. “You’re so fuckin’ tight- so fuckin’ perfect wrapped around me.”

Your body clenched, heat coiling in your belly, the pleasure unbearable as his fingers worked you mercilessly, pushing you closer to the edge.

““Gonna come for me?” Bucky growled, his grip on your waist tightening. “Gonna soak my cock like a good girl?”

Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him, the pressure building unbearably fast. His fingers on your clit never relented, pushing you closer and closer, his thrusts turning sharper, rougher, until it was too much-

The pleasure crashed over you in a blinding wave, your cry muffled into the pillow as your body convulsed beneath him. You clenched around him, squeezing him so tight he let out a strangled moan, his grip on your waist turning bruising.

“Fuck- just like that,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering, his body seizing as he drove into you one last time before he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering groan. The heat of it sent aftershocks rippling through you, your body still pulsing with the remnants of your orgasm as he slumped over you, both of you panting, sweat-slicked, and utterly spent.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. His breath fanned over the back of your neck, warm and uneven, his heart hammering against your spine. Neither of you spoke, your bodies still tangled, still connected, the cuffs a firm reminder that there was no pulling away just yet.

Bucky chuckled breathlessly, his lips ghosting over your shoulder as he murmured, “Guess being stuck together ain’t so bad after all, huh?”

His words sent a lazy shiver through you, but you were too boneless, too utterly wrecked to argue. Instead, you let your eyes drift shut, exhaling slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Yeah, you were definitely in trouble.

By the time backup arrived, you were fully dressed again, but nothing about the tension had faded. If anything, it had settled deeper. The flight home was quiet, and you were quiet too.

Bucky hadn’t let go of you the entire time. His fingers brushed your thigh every so often, casual, like it was nothing. Normally, you would have said something- told him to quit it, nudged him away- but right now, your brain was too hazy, too fluffy to form a real thought. The ache between your legs made every small movement an unspoken reminder of where he'd been, of what he'd done.

You kept your eyes on the window, forcing yourself to breathe, to act normal. But in the reflection, you saw it-

Bucky watching you.

That same small, satisfied smile on his face.

As the jet touched down, Bucky finally pulled at the cuffed connection, his vibranium arm giving a gentle but insistent tug. Your gaze snapped up, attention pulled from the window as your fingers instinctively curled into your lap.

"On your feet, Doll. Don't wanna keep Stark waiting."

"Yes, Sir." The words left your lips before you could even think about them, your breath hitching the moment you realized what you’d said.

Sir? When had that slipped into your vocabulary?

Bucky’s smirk deepened, though he didn’t comment, just gave a slow hum of amusement as he stood, the cuffed hand ensuring you followed right after. Blinking, heat creeping into your cheeks, you cleared your throat and got to your feet, falling into step slightly behind him as you made your way toward Stark’s lab.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the sight of you and Bucky, still cuffed together. "What the hell happened here?"

"Long story," Bucky muttered, avoiding your gaze, though his grip on the cuffed hand lingered a second too long before finally letting go.

Once the cuffs were finally removed, you should have felt relief. Should have been grateful to be free. But instead… you hesitated.

Bucky hesitated, too.

You both lingered, standing too close, the air between you charged with something unspoken. His fingers flexed at his side like he was fighting the urge to touch you again, his jaw tightening as his gaze flickered over you, lingering on the places he'd marked just hours ago. And for one, sharp moment, you thought he might- might say something, might pull you back in, might remind you exactly how good you felt under him.

But then, he just smirked. Slow, knowing, dangerous.

"Don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Doll."

Your breath caught. "I’m not?"

Bucky leaned in, his voice dipping into something husky. "Not even close."

His eyes held yours, heavy with meaning, and your stomach flipped, heat flooding your face and running down your chest. You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering as he finally stepped back-

But instead of leaving, he gave your cuffed hand a light tug, guiding you toward the hallway. "C'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, his smirk deepening. "Think it's time I take you somewhere a little more comfortable."

Your breath hitched, your body still too warm, too sensitive from everything that had happened. "Bucky- "

He shot you a look over his shoulder, teasing but firm. "Unless you wanna sleep alone tonight?"

A nervous giggle bubbled up before you could stop it, and you cleared your throat, shaking your head as he led you toward his bedroom.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

[ablobwhowrites]

Could you write what the toys would do while y/n is at work? New home sweet home au It is very good. As a Brazilian follower, I love your writings.

(I can absolutely. And thanks for liking my writing, I honestly didn't think my au would be this popular)

Basically it sums up to this.

Y/n: "well what do you guys do when I'm normal gone?"

The toys: "wait for you to get back."

But mostly stay in the house or go play in the big backyard, do regular chores or something like that as y/n got out their old consoles plus they can watch TV all they want but as long as they don't break anything like the tv once because Doey got angry once and accidentally broke it. (I've also been watching to many of INUbis smiling critters animations and love watching them. Also like to think that's what the smiling critters look like in their small forms because I believe they can change their sizes like how catnap did in the game for his nightmare form but that might be because of the red smoke. But my point still stands.) dogday basically checks the window near the door to check if it's y/n coming back home after work but gets sad when it isn't like bro is that image of SpongeBob excited looking out the window to see y/n come back home. There's nothing much to do in the house other than that.

During the winter seasons, Doey likes to stay inside but can go outside to play in the snow (but in multiple thick jackets and big snow boots with a scarf) but gets upset that he can't be outside of so long in the show like everyone else (boogey bot can't because rust and the snow messing with the electrics) but y/n does try to make him feel better. Harleys being a who he is, doesn't come out of his room, he doesn't like the stink eyes he gets when being out of his room and that yarnaby prefers to be around y/n more and not being in control of Harley so yeah. Harley hates the cold, hates the heat and basically hates everything but his complaining won't get him anything so he stays silent.

Plus I do imagine when it's dinner or something. Y/n makes this system of voting for meals (if the ingredients haven't been eaten by picky piggy) and sometimes the toys disagree with each other and once bubba went to y/n with a briefcase and all and basically sets up a whole presentation on why tonights dinner should be lasagna and not meatloaf. Plus y/n puts a lot of work into their meals plus they have to make two dishes because some eat more food than others (Harley doesn't really eat nor does boogey but boogey bot gets a seat at the table and Harley being him, doesn't attend but sometimes he does but stays quiet most of the time)

I do imagine y/n is significantly more stronger after being able to rest fully and get proper food and water in their system. Cause y/n is strong on the factory when basically sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty but not like bro is 10x's stronger and it's scary cause like y/n can basically now carry a fridge full of food with some easy but like a solid 2 minutes but can fully carry those heavy TV's from like the 90's with ease and is slowly getting stronger.

Also totally imagining icky licky due to his personality. He challenged y/n to a arm wrestle and of course y/n beats him over and over again but icky is a sore loser and keeps going even if his shoulder and arm really hurts and y/n isn't even putting their full strength into it. This went on for a hour and y/n decided to let icky win cause it wouldn't stop unless they did that.

(Hope you like my yap session. Please if you like this and want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[cozmiccass]

ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ : sᴍᴜᴛ ☠︎︎

ᴀғᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ!ᴍᴇᴄʜᴀɴɪᴄ!ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴsᴏɴ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴀɴ, sᴇᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : sᴜʙ/ᴅᴏᴍ ᴄᴏɴ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ғ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), sʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, sᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴋɪɴɢ, sᴘɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ғᴀᴄᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ/ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ ɪɴ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴀғᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ, sʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ, ᴀǫᴜɪɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs sᴇʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ɴᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʏᴘᴇ/sᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ/ʟᴏᴏᴋs ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ : ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴇʟғ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ... ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀʙsᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ sʟᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴄʜᴀɴɪᴄ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ sᴏʀʀʏ. ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴅᴏᴡɴʀɪɢʜᴛ ғɪʟᴛʜʏ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ! ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴀɪᴅ : ᴛʜɪs ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴀғᴛs ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴏ ɪ'ᴍ sᴏ sᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 7ᴋ

ᴄʀᴏss ᴘᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ : ᴄᴏᴢᴍɪᴄᴄᴀss

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

   

OF COURSE YOUR CAR had to break down on the hottest day of the year. this was just your luck and honestly, you were tired of it. you just wanted something to go right, just for once! it was bad enough that you found out you were cheated on, so you had to buy a whole "new" car because your ex took the vehicle you bought together. this new one was a piece of shit.

and he was an even bigger piece of shit.

you stood by your broken-down rust bucket on the side of a barely-traveled-on dirt road right outside of your hometown of hawkins, indiana in a cute, little pink dress and flats. your hair was a mess in its updo and you were dying of heat exhaustion. you just needed someone—anyone to drive by!

you were just about to give up, so you started walking towards town because at least then you knew you'd be in the cool air soon enough. you got about five feet from your vehicle before seeing a dark blue tow truck that you knew was none other than eddie munson's turning down the road. he was the town's best and most affordable mechanic and he just so happened to be incredibly dreamy. he was a bit of a trouble maker and you found that to be downright tempting.

eddie was about fourteen years older than you, but you still knew about what he was known for. things that he probably wouldn't even think about doing to you, but you sure hoped he did. just about every week for the past two years, you would see him at the grocery store or family video, both of you making polite conversation, even going as far as light flirting and (you didn't know, of course) eddie would ogle your figure every time you'd walk away, always thinking about what he'd do to that 'innocent' body of yours.

eddie's truck was nearing, so with desperation, you used your hand to flag the truck down and your knight in shining armor slowed down to a stop.

he rolled his window down on his passenger side and with that signature smile, he leaned over his middle console to talk to you, "well, hey there, sweetheart. what's going on?"

his hair was pulled back into a low-hanging ponytail and he had a wife-beater tank top on. if you hadn't already been sweating, you would've been at that holy sight.

"my damn car broke down!" you huffed, " is there any way you could give me a lift home, mr. munson? i'll pay you," your bottom lip popped out as you looked at him. eddie was trying his best not to get worked up over your politeness, let alone the state you were in. your sweet clothing made it hard for his mind to stay clean. damn, i'm a pervert, he thought.

eddie had a crush on you too, but it kind of made him feel like a creep, so he never acted on it... unless you made the first move, of course. there was always a loophole.

"d'ya want me to take a look? i won't charge ya," his eyes were squinting from the summer sun, sweat beads rolling down his handsome face from the short amount of time the heat was pooling into his cooled truck.

you nodded gratefully and eddie pulled the vehicle in front of yours and got out. you could really see him then; his blue coverall sleeves from work were tied around his waist, covered in oil and other car fluids and a dirty rag was hanging out of one of his pockets. he looked damn good and you tried to get a good eye-full without being caught.

"first lemme see if i can just..." the hood popped open with a grunt from him and he took a quick look inside. "yeah, this is gonna be a minute. i'll have to take it up to the shop, sweetheart. but i'll run ya cheap, i promise." his eyes wandered down your body and you felt the heat rise both to your face and down to your core. thank goodness you were already very red from the summer sun, but surely you'd tell on yourself in other ways. that much you were sure of.

you were just thankful eddie had been out there when he was and you've had that silly, little schoolgirl crush on him for years, so of course you agreed without hesitation and waited eagerly in his air-conditioned passenger seat. he was surprisingly quick to attach your vehicle to his and met you in the truck.

the ride was filled with sexual tension that you weren't sure if you were imagining or not. his muscular, tatted arm rested on the middle console, daring you to touch it, but you couldn't bring yourself to do such a thing. you felt like you barely knew him, but the temptation was there all the same.

when eddie pulled up to your house, he made sure to take your number down and told you he'd let you know if there was any development on fixing it. you hoped that wasn't the only reason why.

"or if you wanna come by the shop and see me, i'll be there," you couldn't help but feel like a piece of meat dangling in front of a ravenous lion with the way he looked you up and down. you could practically see the drool coming from his cynical smile.

you didn't want him to leave yet, so you did what any logical, slightly horny person would do in your situation: talk him into staying. you look up at him through heavy lashes, and your voice comes out just above a whisper, "so how much do you think this'll cost me, mr. munson?"

when you called him that, eddie could barely contain himself. the way your little voice trembled slightly as though you were a little scared of him, but he knew better. he had known of your little infatuation with him, so he figured he'd shoot his shot. to hell with that previous statement of you making the first move. you seemed too shy, he'd have to give you a little... push, just a bit of pressure to your soft and vulnerable exterior.

a chuckle rose from his chest sending shockwaves to your cunt, "well, i'm not sure of the whole problem yet, darlin', but i'm sure we can figure somethin' out."

eddie was coming onto you; you didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as you leaned against his truck checking him out again, this time with every intent of getting caught.

thankfully, he wasn't shy and played right along.

"you oughta' invite me in so we can discuss payment options though," his head nodded towards your house and a cheshire grin spread across his face, traveling right up to his sparkling brown eyes.

usually, you'd never let someone you'd hardly known in your house so quickly, but eddie munson would be the exception every time. so with an innocent smile, you nodded; the condition of your shitty car was no longer a concern to you as you eagerly dragged him through your front door.

as soon as your feet hit the entryway of your home, eddie made it abundantly clear what his motives were. the door slammed shut with your back against it, a rough hand wrapped around your pretty little throat. a tingly sensation rose up your body like goosebumps, but better. you leaned into his grip with no shame, wetness forming in your panties.

"and here i thought you were this sweet lil' thing, always tempting me with those bright eyes and pretty smiles." eddie's hold on you tightened only slightly, causing you to let out a shaky moan and your eyes to flutter open. his eyes flicked down to your lips as he licked his own, "i'm glad i was wrong."

"oh, i'm still very sweet, sir." you teased, smiling at the pressure he added to your neck.

he laughed darkly, a villainous grumble rising out of him. "and i fully intend to find out just how sweet you are, or maybe i'll just leave you here: pathetic and deprived."

you pouted dramatically, but you knew you'd get what you wanted just as eddie did. with his big hand still secured on your neck, he took his thumb from his other hand and pulled at your bottom lip, "open." he was going out on a limb here and seeing just what all you would do for him. he learned very quickly that he wouldn't be disappointed one bit.

even though you had never been one to follow rules, you believed you would follow this man to the ends of the earth. so your mouth opened slightly, never once breaking eye contact with the handsome guy in front of you. his rugged appearance made you that much more eager to please.

"wider." he yanked your chin harshly and you complied, your tongue falling flat. you knew exactly what he was about to do. "that's a good fucking girl," an ornery grin appeared on that beautiful face of his and then he spat in your mouth. "that's right, now swallow."

you closed your mouth and the warm substance rolled down your tongue and down your throat. it tasted of spearmint and cigarettes; you didn't know what you were supposed to expect from someone's saliva, but it had you questioning your sanity. you wanted him to do it again. and again and again. so you swallowed, just as you were told. like a good girl, his good girl.

a little spit dribbled down the side of your mouth and you were quick to swipe it up and suck it off your own finger. you felt absolutely filthy; swallowing a man's spit before even kissing him? you ate that shit up.

"mmm, i'm going to have fun with you," he intently gazed in your eyes and rubbed your neck almost lovingly, but you knew better.

then, eddie hastily picked you up by your plush hips and set you on your perfectly white kitchen island behind him, placing himself between your soft thighs. your cotton panties were already seeping.

"at any point during this, just say 'mercy' and i'll stop or change things up, okay? i want you to feel comfortable with me." your eyes widened as you just realized what you'd gotten yourself into. he slowly dragged a long calloused finger from the collar of your dress to the very end of the feeble fabric. his hand hovered near your core and he could feel the delicious heat radiating off of it.

you nodded your head hastily as you watched him, incredibly worked up. you just needed a little bit of friction.

"and if i'm gonna do anything, i need your words, okay? you're a big girl, right?" you nod your head again already too fucked out without him even doing anything.

"ah, ah." he turned to your sink to wash his hands before he defiled you. eddie munson might've been a pervert, but he wasn't gross.

"yes. i understand. words, mr. munson." your cheeks turn a bright shade of red. this was all very new to you, but you couldn't get enough of it. everyone always treated you as this meek, innocent person and you were not that at all. not really. you were thrilled it was eddie that got to find out firsthand.

"good girl, i'm gonna start touching you now, yeah?" his words came out breathy as he leaned back into your body.

"yeah," you nearly moaned.

eddie raised your dress above your head in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed minus the thing he wanted most. his index finger met the crotch of your underwear and moved them to the side. your core was throbbing in anticipation when he finally took two of his fingers through your slick, a quiet mewl leaving your mouth. his digits were covered in your arousal, so he brought them up to your mouth and you took them without him even asking. eddie reveled in this, a gruff moan escaping him as he watched you closely.

your tongue swirled around his fingers before sliding your mouth from his hand. you leaned back, elbows supporting your shivering body, legs thrown over eddie's strong shoulders.

"fuck, so needy, baby." another moan left your lips as eddie bit your shoulder before sending his two most middle fingers into you. they were precise and careful, knowing exactly what areas needed to be touched and how much pressure to put on your spongey spot. the curl of his digits was heavenly; stars clouding your vision along with a few tears from the intensity.

after a mere two minutes, you couldn't believe you were about to cum, "i-i.."

"shh, i know." his thumb joined in at the tip top of your cunt, circling that sensitive little nub with vigor. you came with a spasm of your entire body, legs shaking, your body nearly flailing off of the counter, a salacious scream leaving your sweet lips. "you did such a good job for me,"

eddie set your legs down with a smirk, "i need you to wrap your arms and legs around me, sweetheart." and so you did very obediently, your clothed cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of his clothing making you all the more hungry. he asked what direction your bedroom was in before taking you there with urgency; your heart pounded the closer he got.

this was actually happening and you couldn't believe it. all those years of pining after and dreaming of eddie munson, he was about to take you however he saw fit and you were going to let him.

he placed you on the bed and you started to lean up to kiss him, but stopped you with a hand to the top of your head, pushing you down, "ah ah ah, down. on your knees for me, baby." his gruff voice melted you down to your bare knees fully accepting the carpet burn soon to come.

you knelt in front of the beautiful man, gazing up at him like he had put all of the stars in the sky. just the thought of his dick in your mouth made your poor pussy quiver and your mouth water.  your hands reached for his coveralls eagerly, dragging them down his legs to reveal his erection secured loosely in his boxers. blue plaid. cute.

for someone who acted like he was in control, eddie sure was fucking losing it on the inside. seeing you all lovely and disheveled underneath him without his cock even being inside you made his ego way bigger than it should have been. he roughly ran his ringed hand through his unruly hair that wasn't in a ponytail anymore, looking up at your ceiling so he didn't bust right then and there.

your lips were pouty, skin glistening from the sweat, and god, he just wanted to fuck you up. make you forget your own name, forget his name even. he wanted to make you a puddle on the bed when he was done with you.

you took his boxers down to his ankles too and eddie stepped out of them in all his luster. a slight gasp came from your lips at the sight of him; pink, pretty and big. wasting no time at all, your mouth attached to his leaking tip. a slight swirl of your tongue and eddie had your hair in his hands, guiding your head down, down, down until he hit the back of your throat and groaned the most beautiful, guttural moan you've ever heard from a man.

"fuck, sweetheart, i just might have to make you mine if you keep taking me like the dirty little thing you are." he pulls you back and slams his cock into your throat, drool spilling from your pretty mouth. your humming only guaranteed his thrusts he started, the vibration encouraging him.

you wanted to be his so bad, you would gladly do anything he asked of you if it meant he'd keep you. just at the thought, one of your hands found its way to your clit and you couldn't help it, you had to have some sort of release.

he was salty from a hard day's work, but it made him even sweeter to you. you bobbed your head up and down, your nails were digging into his thighs as his rammed himself in and out. both of your hands came up to accompany your slick mouth, pumping his perfect dick. something about two hands on his cock made him come undone.

"oh sh-shit," you feel him throbbing and twitching and you take him out of your mouth, his white, hot ropes spilling all over your mouth, face and chest.

with your finger, you scooped up some from your cheek into your mouth, "mmm, so sweet, mr. munson."

eddie let out a staggered breath, "you dirty thing, you like my cum all over those pretty tits?" you nod. "yeah? i bet you like it in your mouth even more, huh? go ahead, lick it all up for me."

your hand sultrily dragged through the sticky substance, chest heaving from the filthy things you knew you were going to do. it dripped down your hand as your tongue lapped it up, making sure you were watching his reactions the entire time, those big brown eyes observing you so carefully, mouth agape, practically drooling himself.

you were so beautiful like this, on your knees, covered in his cum.

"i want you to take it all, slut." his bottom lip was between his teeth and you moaned. "are you my slut, baby?"

you nodded earning a firm slap in the face from him. the sting was bittersweet and you knew a handprint was sure to form, but you were more than okay with that.

"what did i tell you about using your words?" eddie's eyes grew dark, making you shiver in both excitement and fear. "try again. are you my slut?"

"yes, eddie, i'm your slut. i really am, i promise," your bottom lip stuck out at him, trembling. "i wanna have you inside me, all of you." you made intimate eye contact with his weeping slit. such a pretty cock.

a low snicker rose out of him, "not until you're all clean. can't have too dirty of a girl, can we?"

"no sir," you shook your head quickly. you licked up pretty much every drop of that yummy, gooey stuff before eddie decided to let you up off of your now carpet-burned knees with a harsh yank of your hair.

"such a good listener, aren't we? think i should reward you?" eddie threw you onto your bed on your back, a pathetic whimper coming from you.

"i've been so good, please."

"awe, and so respectful." he cooed and crawled over to you on his hands and knees, truly looking like a lion with that wild mane. you were his prey and you were honored. never have you been so infatuated with anyone, let alone a male, but damn, he had a way about him.

eddie sunk down to his elbows to kiss your bare thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin causing goosebumps. with one sudden movement, he brought the back of your thighs flush to his shoulders again. only this time, he was going to use more than his hands.

eddie slowly took your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere long forgotten. he kisses up your thigh, right on a sensitive spot. you twitch because of the sensation; you had no idea you'd be so sensitive, but he had a hunch. he looked at you as a smirk crept upon his face.

if you weren't in such a compromising position, you'd smack that smug look right off his pretty face... but you were, so you just loved in it. his bouncy curls tickling the inside of your thighs, plush lips like clouds gracing your skin, rough fingers drilling into the squishy cellulite. you could live and die here.

well, maybe not before you got to feel eddie's cock burying inside you.

eddie came face to face with your pretty opening and blew lightly, the warm air earning a yelp from you. "you're already soaked, baby, did you get off making me cum? hmm?" a whine escaped you and he ran his finger through your folds. "you didn't even ask, did you? naughty girl."

truthfully, you hadn't even noticed, you were so preoccupied with making sure he felt as good as he made you feel, that it was even a surprise to you.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to... i just—please touch me, eddie," your legs slightly tightened around his neck.

thankfully for you, eddie was feeling generous tonight, so without another word, he took that lengthy tongue to your cunt. if you thought his fingers felt good, you weren't even close to prepared for the talent that man had when it came to his mouth. a flat stripe down the middle made you moan out before he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. not too hard, but not too soft. he flicked it around, side to side, watching your every facial expression. eddie wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life and damnit, you knew you were.

"you taste so fucking good, you know that?" your head fell back into your pillow dramatically when he licked his lips.

as he worked his tongue through your folds and up into your soaked pussy, your hands found a home in his curls, using them as reigns. a gruff sound came from eddie, making his nose bury deep into your clit and just... thank god for big noses.

eddie's face shook from side to side like a ravaged dog, your juices slinging all over his face. with another pressurized lick all the way up to your clit, he let go of your right thigh and brought two fingers to his mouth. the same two he used earlier that were still just slightly pruned.

a pop echoed through the room when he took them out of his mouth, "i'm going to absolutely ruin you, baby." the look in his dark eyes made your breath hitch in your throat, but his fingers in your cunt had you back to breathing heavy in no time at all.

with his fingers now inside you, eddie brings his saturated mouth back to your clit. circles and little figure eights, maybe even his name? whatever he was doing was working wonders. his non-dominant hand came around your legs to press onto your tummy somehow speeding up your orgasm faster than you had anticipated. the build up ever growing until you couldn't take it anymore.

"fuck, eddie. fuck! please, please, i wanna cum so bad," you were surprised you could even form a coherent sentence with how fucked out you'd become.

"do ya? do you wanna come, pretty girl?" he stopped giving your clit attention to look up at you. "do you deserve it, hmm?"

you felt like you could cry and you almost did. spite is what kept you going because you were a fucking brat.

"i do, i-i deserve it." the words came out breathlessly, barely audible to him, so he bit the inside of your thigh. hard. "ow!"

"i can't hear you, i need you to beg me. beg me for that sweet release, sweetheart. i know you can do it for me." the taunting was almost unbearable, almost, but it turned you on even more with his lips mockingly pouting and captivating eyes blinking up at you. he moved his fingers achingly slow along your g-spot as he watched your legs tremble on either side of him.

you were embarrassed, but you just wanted him inside you and if that meant pleading with him, you'd sure as hell do it.

"please, eddie... i'm begging you, make me cum, i need it, i need you." you were so overstimulated that tears were welling up in your desperate eyes and eddie was losing his mind again. he dove back into your clit with his unforgiving tongue lapping you up. his fingers pumped in and out, curling at the most divine speed and angle. you were floating.

you could feel the dam nearing its inevitable burst, a hot sensation coming from deep inside you begging to be set free. just as suddenly, it broke. you knew you were making a mess, but your body had gone limp long before your orgasm. how you were going to be any fun going further was beyond you.

a scream so pornographic left those satiable lips of yours. you felt yourself dripping down your things, but then you looked up at eddie... like an angel, he glistened with your sweet release, a devilish grin upon that sexy face of his. you could easily cum again at the sight of him. 

"i don't think i've ever come that hard in my entire life," you whispered to yourself and of course he heard it, a sly smirk appearing once more. your head fell back onto the pillow with a loud sigh.

"that sounds like a challenge, sweetheart. let's see if i can make those legs shake again." eddie took his fingers and sucked the slick off slowly.

"a-already?" your voice was shaky coming out. you sat up on your elbows and looked at the man in front of you with a very small touch of fear in your eyes. not that you were scared of him at all, but you thought you'd have some recovery time. apparently, that wasn't on eddie's agenda for the day.

"is that going to be a problem?" he crawled up your body leaving whispers of kisses, his dark eyes boring into your very soul. you gasped as he bit down slightly on your side, scraping his teeth across your skin and leaving a dusting of goosebumps.

"not at all, eddie..."

"mmm," he bit a little deeper, humming into your skin. his lips suctioned harshly, a deep red and purple bruise appearing in their wake.

eddie peppered a few more hickeys along your stomach and left a trail all the way to your breasts before taking the left nipple in his mouth. his tongue swirled delicately around the tip, leaving a little bite as he switched to the other tit. whichever one wasn't in his mouth was being fondled by his hand, twisting and pulling hard enough to make you moan out his name.

"fuck, say my name again," eddie tugged a little harder on your right nipple and your mouth formed an "o", silently screaming. god, you were just so stubborn. you couldn't just give him what he wanted after all that teasing he had put you through.

"awe, don't get all shy on me now, baby. i wanna hear that pretty mouth scream my name." he released your breast long enough to tease you before he was on them again.

"you might have to try a little harder than that— oh!" eddie sat up and ripped your body flush to his, the tip of his dick lightly grazing over your soaked center.

"you don't get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. you're here to listen." his hand wrapped around his cock and it made it look even bigger than it already was. he slapped the head on your abused clit a few times before running through your folds wet with creamy slick. you were trying so hard not to moan his name. it wasn't a matter of not doing it at all, more so a game to see how long you could hold it together. you did not have high expectations for yourself considering just looking at eddie munson made your thighs clench together.

eddie smirked as he heard the wetness each time he teased your entrance. "see, now i'm going to need you to beg for it," he stated plainly.

your mouth fell agape in slight annoyance, you were definitely over not having his dick in you. "just fuck me!" you tried to grab him but he slapped your hand and then your face.

"did i fucking say you could touch me? now lay back like a good little slut, would ya?" he positioned himself at your weeping hole and pressed slightly. "beg." his dark eyes glared at you through heavy lashes.

"no." you pushed back tauntingly.

"beg or i'm leaving." he was completely bluffing but you didn't know that. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him if not more.

"fine," a huff exasperated from you as well as a comically unenthusiastic, "please."

eddie barked out a rash laugh, "are you kidding? what the fuck was that?" his hand wrapped around your throat, "i said to fucking beg, beg for me to put you out of your misery, huh? beg me to destroy you like you wanna be." his voice was low and raspy and it had you clenching down on the nothingness in your pussy.

an inch of his cock entered you and just as quickly, it was out. "fuck! you're so mean!" you pouted as your hands gripped onto the bedsheets in frustration.

"no, if i was mean, i'd have left you at the door, baby." another chuckle came from him before he ran his tongue up your throat in a thick strip. the wetness being accompanied by the coldness of the air made your nipples turn pebbled.

"look at her down there, she's so lonely. don't you want me to fill her up?" a thick finger ran through your folds and sunk into your hole and you gasped. "or i can just keep barely touching you, is that what you want, you fuckin' brat?"

towering over you with your legs in the air, eddie let his spit fall from his mouth to your clit and rubbed it in. it didn't need the extra lubricant, but eddie liked watching you squirm under him from every single move he made. you made him feel so powerful. you finally gave in.

"eddie, please, have mercy."

his eyes grew the darkest you had ever seen them. you knew you were in so much trouble and you couldn't wait for the consequences of your actions. with your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched eddie sink himself into you. inch by inch he made you feel fuller than you had ever before. you squeezed him involuntarily.

"jesus christ," he whispered. "i thought if i got you warmed up, i'd go in easier, but damn sweetheart. tight little thing you got here," his rough thumb plays with your clit in the slightest. your cheeks flushed at his words, but he just relishes in the feeling of how warm and taut you are. "just suckin' me right in."

he threw his head back as he bottomed out and you let out a small squeak. you were scared to try to speak due to your brain being absolutely empty of anything but him.

"s-so fu—" was all you mustered before eddie pulled out and slammed the full length of his cock into you and you let out a scream. another slam and another. he was laughing and relentlessly fucking you into your poor mattress. your head spun as he pounded into you, the slick sounds echoing in that blank brain of yours.

"this pussy was fuckin' made for me, wasn't it?" he asked with a sly smile. your thighs were bouncing off of his making a loud smack! with every thrust.

"yes, yes, it was m-made for you," your head was shaking back and forth, eyes shut and your bottom lip now bruised and swollen from biting down so hard.

eddie then crossed your legs against his chest making you tighter for him, a little rag doll for him to use and abuse. you could feel yourself start to topple over, his dick caressing your sweet spot flawlessly. you let go without a noise; your head was thrown back and you clutched his hands that were gripping your hips.

"atta girl, how many more can you give me?" his grip tightened again, fingernails digging into your plushness and causing your breath to hitch in pain. you fucking loved it.

"more, please?" another pathetic whimper came from your mouth and eddie just wanted to slap you again, but you were using your manners like he asked.

"you want more, baby?" he roughly flipped you onto your stomach. "on your hands and knees." his hands guided you and put a pillow under you. "now relax."

and so you did. your ass was in the air and you took a deep breath before a hard smack came across your ass and you could feel your skin rising and burning from the welt that was forming. a few more strikes had you pleading and whining under him before he finally decided you'd had enough(hardly).

nails scratched down your back as he leaned down and growled into your ear, "you want it rough, sweetheart? is that what you want? someone to put your bratty self into your rightful place: under me?"

"y-yes, please! please, eddie!" he lined himself up to your entrance again, slamming into you. his large hand clamped over your mouth and pulled your back to his chest. a bite to your earlobe distracted you before he mercilessly drove himself into you. slick and wet sounds filled the room once again, sweat clinging to both of your bodies. you had never felt so used in your life.

eddie shoved you facedown into the mattress, his veiny cock sliding in and out with grace and purpose. your hair was soon balled up into his fist stinging, making you lightheaded and seeing spots in your already fuzzy vision. your moans grew shorter and louder with each thrust, knowing you were coming undone yet again.

the slight curve of eddie's dick hit your g-spot just fucking right over and over before he reached down and his adept fingers went to work on your already throbbing clit. eddie would admit that this particular position was not the best for that, but he made it work. and holy shit did it work.

with a loud moan/scream and some intense body shakes, you came all over his cock and lost all movement for a few minutes. your legs and arms tingling—even your face felt like pins and needles. you had never felt such pleasure from someone else, or even yourself for that matter!

luckily, eddie was nice this time, giving you some time to recover before his decided final go. he was proud of himself; for an older man, he had quite the stamina.

he laid you on your side, rather gently for the previous actions, and spooned you. his dick was digging into your back, wet from your cum and arousal. in one swift motion, he slid himself into your slick folds not entering you just yet. he wanted to tease a little. the tip of him nudged at your clit deliciously.

"you ready, baby?" eddie's breath hit your ear and sent pleasant shivers down your spine. he definitely noticed and loved the reactions he got from you.

"yes, i'm ready, please, fill me up!" you sobbed pathetically.

"fuck," he lined his head back up to your seeping hole, slipping it in with such ease.

you thought the other positions were good? this was your favorite by far. the intimacy as he held you close and slowly slid in and out of you felt like he might actually call you after this.

one hand held tightly onto your waist while the other was tangled in your hair, pulling ever so slightly. it was more like he was playing with it than anything. a sweet kiss was laid under your ear and you moaned quietly.

he yanked your head back by your hair suddenly and his breath tickled your ear, "come on, sweetheart. you can do better than that, be louder for me, huh?"

a harsh thrust made you scream; a yelp was let out with every slow drag of his dick against that spongey spot. you knew your eyes were rolling back into your head. it was so intense and you never wanted it to end. eddie, cocky as ever, couldn't contain his sly smile as he continued to slide into you.

such a mess was being made and you couldn't be bothered to care, where on the other hand, eddie was laughing coyly in your ear. he was so proud of himself for making you come undone.

"atta girl, gonna cum for me one more time? make a big ole mess of me, hmm?" eddie sunk his teeth into your neck and sucked on the spot he found earlier knowing it would make you lose all control(like you even had it from the beginning).

your cunt squeezed him tight while you came, throbbing all around him. your walls closing in on him had eddie swearing into the crook of your neck.

"fuck, fuck, holy shit... where?" he was biting your shoulder again, trying desperately to hold out.

"i'm on the pill, eddie," your voice came out cracked and weak, completely fucked out.

without needing any further explanation and one last drive into your abused cunt, eddie came with a quiet but husky moan and you don't think you'd ever heard anything more fucking sexy.

you two lay in that position for a moment; his chest was slightly sticking to your back every time he exhaled and your legs were intertwined. when he finally decided to pull out of you, you got sad. you had no idea what this meant and you already missed his touch. no doubt you were an absolute goner.

eddie left the room for a while, putting his boxers on before. when he came back, it seemed he had made himself right at home. a glass of water and a warm rag were in his hands, a small smile graced you as he leaned down to give you the water.

"figured you'd need this. you're all tuckered out, little one." his eyes were a vast contrast from ten minutes ago. once hungry and lustful pits of black were now kind and gentle brown orbs searching your face for regret or fear. to his surprise, all he found was pure adoration and maybe a touch of something else.

"thank you..." you whispered as you sat up and took a grateful drink. cool water flowed down your throat and soothed the hoarseness from the noises that came out of you prior.

"here," eddie took it out of your hands when you finished and gently turned you to your back and spread your wobbly legs. "let me take care of you, okay?"

the way he looked at you with concern had your head spinning. the warm rag glided against the plush of your things and up capturing all of the mess you two had made together.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you didn't mean for it to come out like that, but it did.

eddie looked taken aback, but he understood why you were confused. "just because i'm rough on the outside, sweetheart," he paused to kiss up your thigh. "doesn't mean i'm rough on the inside."

a wide, genuine smile invades eddie's features and yours alike. he looked down to your lips and then back up to your already pleading eyes. the urgency with which he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his was impressive.

the kiss was softer and longer than you had imagined it would be and it was the best kiss you ever had. no competition.

he lightly tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth when he finally decided to pull back from you. your face was still in his hands as he touched your noses together softly. he was looking into your eyes so intently that you felt like you needed to hide, but you trusted him for some reason.

"so you think you'll call me after this?" you laughed lightly, still trying to figure him out.

"oh, hell yeah. i gotta get that shitty car fixed up for ya'!" he laughed and you smacked his arm.

"but no, seriously, are you kidding? you think i'm gonna let you go after all the filthy shit we just did? you're mine now, baby."

a squeal left you as he pulled you down the bed to plant another passionate kiss to your lips.

"besides... i've seen the way you look at me. you couldn't leave me alone anyway," he smirks at you with annoying confidence.

"me? why do you think every time you've seen me, it's been in something small and skimpy, mr. munson. you're a dirty man, i know how to reel you in."

a groan left his mouth and he threw you back on the bed, "oh, you're gonna pay for that, sweetheart."

 

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

ahhhhh!! it's finally done. jesus christ.

i started writing this in august :,)

sooo, merry early christmas, i guess (> u &lt;)

i'm thinking about a part two? lemme know!

also, thank you all so much for sticking with me ❤️

i appreciate each and every one of you!

-cass

[zerosbubble]

Stay here.

Tim Bradford x Rookie!Reader [PLATONIC] — ONGOING SERIES: Like Father, Like Rookie.

Summary: After responding to a particularly gut-wrenching call, you find yourself struggling to shake it off. Tim doesn’t do hand holding or pep talks, but the way he subtly keeps you grounded reminds you that maybe he does care—just in his own way.

Warnings: Reader & Tim take a domestic call gone wrong, mentions of blood, derealisation.

You weren’t sure why this one stuck with you.

You’d seen worse. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You’d handled chaotic crime scenes, violent arrests, situations where adrenaline took over and left no room for emotions to settle in. But tonight—tonight was different.

It was a domestic call gone bad. The kind that started with a 911 hang-up and ended with shattered glass, blood on the floor, and a kid too young to understand what had happened but old enough to know it wasn’t right. You did everything by the book. Secured the scene. Called for medics. Reassured the child the best you could, even when their small hands clung to your uniform like a lifeline. You did your job. And then you left.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But one thing couldn’t get out of your head — Your uniform was awfully stained.

The blood wasn’t yours, but it didn’t matter. It had splattered across your sleeves when you helped the woman up from the floor, smudged onto your hands when you picked up the crying kid. You hadn’t noticed it at first—too busy, too locked into protocol. But now, sitting in the shop under the dim glow of the streetlights, it was all you could see.

You rubbed your palms together, as if you could scrub the feeling away, but the red didn’t disappear. It had already dried, darkened into something rust coloured and permanent. Your breathing slowed, the noise of the city fading into a dull hum as a strange weight settled in your chest.

You didn’t even realize you were staring at your hands until Tim spoke.

“Hey.”

The sharpness in his voice cut through the haze. You blinked, finally looking up, and he was already watching you—brows drawn, head tilted just slightly. You hadn’t even noticed that the shop had pulled over to the side of the road.

“You’re here,” Tim said evenly, like he was reminding you of something obvious. “Stay here.”

You exhaled, shaking your head as if that could clear the static in your brain. With stiff movements, you reached for a napkin in the center console, scrubbing at your hands even though it wouldn’t do much good. Tim let you, didn’t say a word until your hands stopped shaking.

Then, after a long beat, he reached behind his seat and tossed you a fresh department hoodie.

“Put that on,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the road.

You hesitated, then pulled it over your uniform without question. The fabric was warm, heavy, grounding.

You weren’t sure if it actually helped, but somehow, you didn’t feel so lost anymore.

You pulled the hoodie over your uniform, the scent of worn fabric and faint cologne settling around you. It was grounding in a way you didn’t expect. But then, Tim reached over and—

His thumb swiped against your cheek.

You stiffened slightly, not because of the touch, but because of what he was wiping away.

Blood.

You hadn’t even realized it was on your face too.

Tim’s movements were calm, methodical. He pulled another napkin from the glove compartment, wetting it with his water bottle before dabbing at the smudges across your jawline. His touch was firm but not rough, like he knew you needed something tangible to focus on.

“You’re doing fine, kid,” he said, voice low, steady. “Stay with me.”

You nodded slowly, still silent, but compliant. Your breathing was shallow, but you matched the rhythm of his movements—each slow pass of the napkin against your skin, each flick of his eyes scanning for anything he missed.

When he was done, he studied you for a moment. His usual sharp, assessing gaze softened just slightly, like he was trying to gauge if you were still floating somewhere outside yourself.

“Talk to me,” he finally said.

Your lips parted, but no words came out at first. You swallowed, forcing out something—anything.

“I didn’t even feel it,” you admitted. “Didn’t notice the blood was there.”

Tim nodded, like that answer made sense. “That’s because you were running on instinct.” He tossed the used napkin into a small trash bag near the console. “It’s not a bad thing. It means you did your job.”

You let out a slow breath, feeling the weight in your chest shift—still heavy, but not suffocating.

Tim didn’t push for more. Instead, he rested his arm against the center console, glancing at you like he was about to say something but changed his mind. Then, after a beat—

“Let’s get some coffee.”

The abruptness of it almost made you laugh. Almost. But the offer was exactly what you needed—something normal, something routine, something that wasn’t blood and sirens and silence pressing in too hard.

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

Tim hummed in approval and put the shop in drive.

The coffee shop stayed quiet between you and Tim for a while, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Just… steady. Like the weight of the last call wasn’t pressing as hard anymore. Like you could actually breathe again.

Your coffee was still too hot to drink properly, but you held onto it anyway, fingers gripping the cup like it was some kind of lifeline. Tim didn’t comment on it. He just sat across from you, sipping his own, gaze flicking out the window every now and then, like he was still half on duty even while sitting down.

You let the silence sit a little longer before finally speaking. “So… you’ve done this before.”

Tim glanced back at you. “What?”

“This whole ‘walking someone out of a breakdown’ thing,” you said, raising a brow. “You’re kinda suspiciously good at it.”

Tim scoffed. “It’s not a breakdown.”

You gave him a look. “It was getting there.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve done it before.”

You nodded, waiting.

For a second, you thought he wouldn’t say anything else. But then, his fingers tapped lightly against the side of his coffee cup, and he spoke again.

“I had a T.O who did the same thing for me,” he said, voice lower now. “When I was a rookie, fresh out of the military. Thought I could handle anything.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

You blinked. Tim didn’t talk about himself much, and when he did, it was usually wrapped in sarcasm or some kind of tough-love lesson. But this—this was different.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

Tim exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Bad call. Domestic. Ended ugly.” His fingers flexed once against the cup before stilling. “My T.O. knew I was barely keeping it together after. Took me out for coffee, let me sit with it. Didn’t push, didn’t lecture—just reminded me that it wasn’t my job to carry it forever.”

You swallowed, watching him.

Tim glanced at you then, eyes sharp and knowing. “That’s what I’m doing for you.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling like he could see straight through you. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though even you weren’t convinced.

Tim’s brow lifted. “Sure. That’s why you haven’t taken a sip of that coffee yet.”

You scowled at him but finally lifted the cup and took a hesitant sip, more out of stubbornness than anything else. It was still too hot, and you made a face, setting it back down.

Tim smirked. “There. Progress.”

You rolled your eyes but felt the tightness in your chest ease just a little.

After a moment, Tim leaned back, stretching his shoulders. “You don’t get used to it, you know,” he said, voice softer. “The blood. The way people look at you when they realize you can’t fix everything. You just learn how to live with it.”

You nodded slowly. “And coffee helps?”

Tim shrugged, smirking slightly. “Doesn’t hurt.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, finally taking another sip of your drink. This time, you didn’t grimace.

The weight of the last call still lingered, but it wasn’t crushing you anymore. You weren’t fully back yet, but you were getting there.

And Tim—without making a big deal out of it—was making sure you didn’t have to get there alone.

[sleepyserenssims]

Cantina Collection

Straight from Oga's Cantina comes this cobbled together industrial set.

A bit later than planned but finally here. All items are very low poly as they are all frankenmeshed from the original bar back counters.

The textures are all composites and rearrangements of the originals, as a result they are not seamless - but we'll say it just adds to the look that they've just been made from whatever scrap metal was around!

Also as the cabinet doors all have the same rust pattern, it looks odd/repetitive on very big kitchens but works fine for small spaces.

There is only one swatch for all items except the seating, which comes in the same colours as the originals.

All items are base game compatible, except the resized bar backs which require Journey to Batuu.

See below for further details, pictures and download links.

Comfort (5 items):

Industrial Bar Stools x 2 - Low Back & No Back

Industrial Dining Chairs x 2 - Low Back & No Back (shown with original JtB high back chair)

Metal Dining Chair (shown with original JtB bar stool)

Surfaces (16 items):

Kitchen Counters & Islands

Bar Table

Dining Tables x 2

Coffee & End Tables

Console Tables x 3

Smaller Replicas of the original Cantina Barbacks x 5 - resized to match the height of regular counters NOTE: You'll need to use bb.moveobjects on to align these properly. JOURNEY TO BATUU PACK IS REQUIRED.

Industrial Shelf

Decor (2 items):

Metal Splashbacks x 2

Activities & Skills (3 items):

Oga's Bars x 2

Sabacc Game Table NOTE: BGC but JOURNEY TO BATUU is required in order to change the game type to Sabacc. Without this it will function as any other base game card table.

Download All (Downloads ZIP file from Google Drive)

Pick and Choose (Opens Google Drive folder)

If there's any problems with any of these items or you have any constructive feedback, suggestions or questions, please just get in touch, I'm still learning every day!

My TOU

Credits

All textures and meshes are edited or frankenmeshed from in-game EA assets.

@myshunosun - for their gorgeous sona dining chair which I cloned in order to have an object with the necessary transparency for the chair and bar stool - can be downloaded here.

Lizbot3000 - for their base game bar tables, which I cloned for my bar table and can be found here.

@ravasheencc - for her Crop It Like It's Hot Backdrops which I used to take some preview photos and can be downloaded here.

CC created using Blender, Sims 4 Studio & GIMP. Preview images using Canva Pro.

Everyone on the S4S forums and the Creator Musings discord group for all the tutorials and advice/help.

[l1vingd3adg1rl-05]

Join me in Death pt1

Thomas Hewitt X Fem! Reader

Sorry this is very short, I have work in the morning. Not proofread

The old, bumpy road feels like it stretches on forever; there are no winding turns, no large hills, and just a long Texas roadway. The bright, sweltering sun beats down on you through your truck's windows. A few weeks have passed since your grandfather's passing, you found out from receiving a note in his will, in which note revealed he left you his old property in the countryside of Texas. You have a few memories of the place from when you were younger. Your grandpa was a reserved man, which reflected on his home. It was in the middle of nowhere, you are positive that there wasn't a town in any direction for at least 30 miles, and he only had one neighbor that lived a mile away from his home, on the other side of the forest that was on the edge of his property in the back. He didn’t live with anyone in the years leading up to his death that you know of.

Your gaze flicks over to the map laid out on the console now and then, looking to see if you're still on the right track. After another hour of driving, you see your tank is slowly running out, with just barely any gas left. You hope you can find a gas station soon. After a few miles pass by, you see a decrepit building on the side of the road, it appears to be a rundown gas station, at least you hope. You pull into the lot and let out a sigh of relief as you see gas pumps. You park alongside one of the rusted pumps and get out of your vehicle. Scanning the pump, you see a large sticker on its side. ‘NO GAS’ in bold red lettering.

You groan in frustration, gazing around the parking lot at the other pumps you see most with the same or similar stickers on them. Some were out of order, and some with no gas as well. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you decide to head inside, pushing open the shabby doo,r you enter the rundown store. There isn’t a lot on the shelves, just some old cans with a layer of thick dust on the tops, and a lot of car parts. A few bikers are in the store, scanning you as you walk in. You’re definitely out of place here. An older woman sits behind the desk, a worn-out book in her hands. Her gaze lifts from her book to glance at you, giving you a once-over before ultimately returning to her book. A nervous smile stretches along your face as you walk over to the front counter. “Ma’am? Do you happen to know when there will be gas? My truck is almost completely out.” You quickly try to explain yourself.

“I’m afraid there isn’t any more gas until this evening, maybe even as late as tomorrow,” she tells you in her shaky voice, her tone soft and quiet. This is the last thing you need, after being on the roads for hours, all you want is to get to the property to check it out. “Do you think there is another gas station nearby?” you ask with your voice filled with hope, but it’s quickly shattered when she shakes her head no. You look outside at your truck, the heat and humidity are appalling, just the thought of going outside in this weather makes you shudder. The older woman picks up on your distress and speaks up once more. “I got a place nearby, not too far from here, how about after I close up, you can spend the night with me and my boys?” she offers up. It sounds like a blessing right now, considering your situation, but you can't help but feel a pang of uneasiness, like a gut feeling about it. The lady seems kind enough, so you shake off the feeling. “Well, I wouldn't want to intrude.” She smiles at your hesitancy, waving you off. After a bit of chatting, you both introduce yourself. “M’names Luda, you’re new to these parts ain't ya?” She has a big grin on her face, making your anxiety and nervousness disappear. “Yes, ma'am, my grandfather passed away and has recently left me his property. I was going to check it out.” She nods her head as she listens to your story, saying her condolences about your grandpa.

A couple of hours pass, and the sun sets, making the sky a deep orange with a deep red along the horizon. You sit upon an old bench outside the store with Luda. Her leg bounces repeatedly up and down. It's clear she’s waiting for someone. Just as you’re about to speak up about her impatience, an old police cruiser pulls into the parking lot. The old cruiser’s door creaks open, and an older man steps out. “Where the hell have you been, Charlie!? You’re half an hour l,” she scolds the older man, but with no real malice behind her words. She rises from the rickety wooden bench as the man walks over. “It’s Hoyt,” he’s quick to correct her, standing tall and rigid, and then his gaze falls on you. His brows furrowed, looking you up and down. His eyes stay a little too long on your chest, then meeting your eyes before turning back to Luda Mae, he begins to speak, clearly about to question you, but he’s cut off. “Her truck’s out of gas, told her she can stay the night at our place.”

It It becomes quiet, an awkward silence as they stare at each other, silently communicating something that you can’t quite understand, their eyes falling on you before they both quickly straighten up. “You’ll have to ride in the back.” Hoyt’s words cut through the silence, and the thick tension still lingers in the air. You nod your head quickly, moving to follow them and get in the cruiser. The door groans and creaks loudly as you open it up, the hinges are rusted, and there aren't any handles on the inside since it's a police vehicle. The two settle in the front, the engine roars to life, and he begins to pull out of the gas station’s parking lot. You gaze out at the vast Texas terrain, and the conversation they're having in the front begins to fade as you get lost in thought. You just want this day to be over so you can get back on the road, But that will have to wait until tomorrow.

You’re snapped out of your daydreaming when the cruiser begins to slow, hitting every bump and pothole on the dirt road. Looking outside you can see a very old farm house. Hoyt, or whatever his name is, roughly opens the door to let you out. Eyeing you up once again. As you walk up the beaten path you make sure to follow closely behind Luda. The stairs to the small porch wobble at the littlest amount of weight applied to them, you make sure to watch your step. Luda opens the door for you and signals to walk in first, and you quickly do so. Whispering something to Hoyt in the background. The home is dark, only a small light bulb flickering on the ceiling. As you turn to look into the hallway, your body collides with someone firm, you look up to see a large man, dark curly hair falling over his face, a face that’s hidden away partially by a black mask. He roughly grabs you and you gasp. His calloused hands rough and his grip hard like steel on your shoulders.

“Tommy quit fucking around with the guest.” Hoyt yells at that man, his hands quickly fall from your shoulder as you move a few steps back, Luda Mae shuts the door and walks over to you and the large man. He backs away as well, eyeing you up silently. “I’m so sorry honey, he wasn’t expecting you is all, we don’t get much people around here. Here why don’t you join us for dinner now? It’ll be real quick” after your heart settles down you let out a sigh, agreeing to her words and let her guide you to the kitchen.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 ( cause you've never missed )

synopsis: boothill never misses his targets, however, sometimes, he wishes he did.

side comments: I had to get this out of my drafts... forgive me.

extra: gn reader, angst, violence with a gun, IPC hunting reader, subtle boothill spoilers word count: 315

"Cause lovin' ain't easy cutie. You either get it or-"

"You don't, yes Boothill, I understand."

Boothill pauses, his eyes gazing at yours. The classic smirk on his face rusting and falling. "Then why are you asking me to do this? I'd hunt down the person-"

"There is no person to hunt Boothill, you know that" you mutter softly, gingerly cupping his cool face in the palms of your hand. "There never was another person," you mutter gravely, "I won't let the IPC have me."

Boothill sighs, his eyes flickering from your darling face to the dust stains of your leather boots.

"I can't do that cutie."

You share a rueful smile before replying woefully, "I wouldn't let anyone but you do it."

You then plant three tender kisses: the first on his hands, the second on his cheek, and the third on his gun.

The reflection of the moon wavers for a split second while the stars flicker above. Sleep follows the creatures who slumber and not a sound is made under the spell of such a tranquil night.

From there, Boothill observes the tender movements of your body: how its warmth slipped away, how you turned your back against him and let your arms loose by your side.

You were ready, you told him. Your heart is conditioned and your mind is set at rest: far from the empty desert to which your foot trod on, far from the toils of the universe, of the IPC.

Tenderly does Boothill raise the gun, his arms stretched out as he has hundreds of times before, his head tilted slightly. Boothill's finger quivers, yet you remain still: an image etched into the metal plating of his being, formed from consolation and words of solace that were ultimately derived from you.

"You won't miss, I promise."

A bang echoes through the desert, and the spell is broken.

"Sometimes, I wish I did-"

"Cutie."

masterlist.

[lanaroff]

House of Broken Hearts- Chapter 15

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: ANGST, Blood, Knives.

They had found him. The place was cold and bare, buried beneath layers of concrete and dirt, with dust coating long-abandoned consoles and rust biting at old tech. It’s not exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find the most elusive man in intelligence. But when the biometric door unlocks with a hiss and opens to reveal Nick Fury standing in front of an array of monitors—arms crossed, jaw tight—Steve knows they’ve finally reached the end of a very long trail.

Tony steps in first. “You son of a bitch.”

Fury doesn’t flinch. “Took you long enough.”

“You disappeared,” Steve says, voice calm but sharp. “You left us blind when everything started falling apart.”

“Not everything,” Fury mutters, not facing them yet. “You still had each other.”

Tony doesn’t wait. He walks straight up to Fury, slamming the thick folder Sharon had given you—the same one they showed Ross—onto the metal desk in front of him.

“Did you even read this?” he spits. “Do you know what you let them do to her?”

Fury’s eye lingers on the file. It’s already opened—he’s seen it. And he says nothing. That silence only sets Tony off more.

“She was tortured. Experimented on. Treated like an animal. And while she was out there breaking herself apart for this damn country, you were sitting here in a hole pretending to be dead again. Tell me, Fury—was it all part of your brilliant long game? Let your agent rot while you play spy games in the dark?”

Fury looks up slowly, and there’s something different in his face. Older. Worn.

“I didn’t know they’d get to her,” he finally says.

“That’s your excuse?” Sam says now, stepping forward. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I knew something was wrong when S.H.I.E.L.D. files on her suddenly vanished,” Fury continues, ignoring the venom in Tony’s voice. “The intel she gathered—everything we had to protect her with—was gone. And when I dug deeper, I realized someone inside was rewriting history.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “You mean they framed her.”

Fury nods once. “Someone high up. Very high. Someone with enough clearance to not only access her files but alter them. Strip away every trace of the operation.”

Tony laughs bitterly. “So that’s it? You just disappear? Hide away and let her take the fall?”

“I’ve been tracking them,” Fury snaps, his voice finally breaking through the ice. “Every senator, every agency name. Someone is pulling the strings from within, and if I stayed in the open, I’d be next. They wanted me quiet. So I gave them what they wanted—just long enough to find out who’s really behind this.”

“And did you?” Steve asks. “Did you find them?”

Fury exhales, turning to one of the monitors and tapping a few keys. A screen flickers on. Photos. Redacted files. Surveillance stills. “Not all of them. But enough to start drawing lines. A name keeps popping up—General Claiborne. Tied to funding black ops, shell companies, and, conveniently, the person who gave Ross the go-ahead to pursue Y/N without a trial.”

Sam leans in. “That’s how they did it. They made it look like she flipped.”

“Because they needed a scapegoat,” Tony mutters. “And she was the perfect one.”

There’s a long beat of silence. Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told us, Fury.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” Fury says, looking at him now. “I knew if I told you, you’d tell her. And if she knew… she’d go straight to them. She’d walk into the fire just to prove herself.”

“She did walk into the fire,” Tony says, eyes hard. “And you let her burn.”

Fury doesn’t respond.

“And then Ross,” Steve says darkly. “He didn’t believe a damn thing we said. The proof, the testimonies, the files—he called it a setup.”

Fury’s jaw clenches. “Because he’s in on it. He’s part of the cover-up.”

Tony slams a fist on the table. “You know what Maximoff did in that meeting? She threatened to tear the whole system down if they laid another hand on her.”

Fury looks up at that. Something flickers behind his eye.

“She stood between Y/N and the entire government,” Steve says quietly. “She didn’t care about protocol. About diplomacy. But you? You are a coward, you used her for your own good. And throw her at the wolves when you didn’t need her.”

Fury lowers his head and doesn’t say anything. He knows they are right. But he can’t admit it, not to them.

Tony moves closer again, quieter this time. “We need to end this. If you have any intel that can clear her name, you give it to us. Right now.”

Fury nods. “Everything I’ve got is in this bunker. Names. Contacts. Locations. I’ll upload it all.”

Steve looks at him. “You’re coming with us.”

“I will,” Fury says. “But first, we tie the noose. This goes beyond Y/N. It goes to the core of what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D., and maybe even deeper.”

Sam looks at the screen. “Then we find Claiborne.”

“And anyone else standing in the way of clearing her name,” Tony says.

⸻

Back at the farm, the kitchen is warm, filled with the scent of rosemary and roasted garlic. The windows let in golden evening light, casting soft shadows across the counter where you stand beside Wanda, sleeves rolled up, carefully slicing carrots for the stew. It should feel like peace. Like home. But there’s something restless under your skin. You try to ignore it—try to focus on the rhythm of the knife, the feel of the cutting board under your fingers.

Wanda hums beside you, soft and melodic, something Sokovian and low. Her hair is up, her face flushed from the heat of the stove, and when she leans over to stir the pot, her arm brushes yours. You close your eyes for a second and let yourself feel it. Warmth. Familiarity. Love.

But then the knife slips.

It’s the tiniest thing. Just a slip. Just a line of red across your palm.

And the world collapses.

You don’t hear the knife clatter to the floor. You don’t hear Wanda say your name. You don’t feel the kitchen anymore.

It all fades.

The scent of rosemary is gone. The golden light from the window collapses into a flickering, sterile blue. You blink, but your vision blurs at the edges—walls melt away, replaced with icy concrete and blood-stained steel. The air thickens, colder, harder to breathe. You can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. The metallic clink of chains you haven’t worn in weeks. The soft shuffle of boots echoing in the hall.

You’re back there.

You’re back there.

You see the knife in your hand, stained red, and suddenly it’s not a kitchen knife anymore—it’s a scalpel, a tool, an extension of their hands. You look down at your bleeding palm and everything tilts. Your stomach churns. The cut—small, innocent—burns like acid. Pain flares behind your eyes, and a low whimper slips from your throat.

You’re slipping under.

You don’t even realize Wanda is talking to you.

“Detka?” she says softly. “You okay?”

Your head snaps up. Your eyes lock on hers—but you don’t see her. You don’t recognize her. You see someone wearing her face, standing in your cell, speaking in her voice. It’s a hallucination. It’s a trap. They’ve done this before—used her face to break you down.

Your breath goes shallow. Your hand tightens around the handle of the knife.

“Don’t come any closer,” you whisper, eyes wide. “I swear, I’ll use it.”

Wanda freezes, her blood running cold.

“Y/N,” she says carefully, her voice soft, terrified, “baby, it’s me. It’s Wanda. Look at me. You’re not there anymore.”

You take a step back, trembling. “No. No, this is wrong. This isn’t real. You’re not her. You’re not Wanda. She’s dead.”

She chokes on a breath. “No—no, she’s not. I’m right here. I’ve always been here. Please, baby—please come back to me.”

But your eyes are wild, lost, flicking to the corners of the room like you’re expecting someone to come in and drag you away. You can’t hear her. You can’t feel the floor beneath you, or the warmth in the air. You can’t remember the farm, or the kitchen, or her touch.

Your hand shakes, and you raise the knife, pointing it at her, voice trembling, cracked with panic. “Stop it. Stop lying to me. Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

“I’m Wanda,” she whispers, tears in her eyes now, hands shaking. “Please, Y/N. Please remember me.”

You take another step back. “I don’t know who you are. The real Wanda would never be here. She’s gone. She left. She never came.”

And something in her breaks.

Her voice wavers, but she doesn’t step back. “No. I didn’t leave you. I fought for you. I died for you. I searched the world for you. And I’d do it again.”

“I don’t believe you!” you scream, the sound ragged, barely human. “You’re not her! You’re just something they built in my head to break me again. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

She’s shaking now. Her eyes burn red at the edges, not with power—but with pain. Her hands hover, helpless. “Please,” she begs, voice raw. “Please don’t do this. Please come back to me. I can’t lose you again.”

But you don’t hear her. You’re too far gone.

You’re in the cell. You’re bleeding. You’re alone.

You don’t even see Natasha enter until it’s too late.

She freezes in the doorway.

Blood on the floor. Your hand clenched white around the knife. Wanda’s trembling frame, standing inches away—her hands raised in surrender, eyes brimming with tears. Your voice cracking with panic as you scream that this isn’t real, that Wanda is dead, that none of this is real.

And Natasha—

She breaks.

You don’t see it, but Wanda does. The subtle stagger in her step. The way her eyes go wide with horror before she forces herself forward. This is not the battlefield. This is not a mission. This is you.

And she couldn’t protect you.

“Y/N,” she says softly, voice trembling with something she’s never let herself feel in front of you: grief. “It’s me. It’s Nat.”

You spin, wild and disoriented, and you point the knife toward her, too. But Natasha doesn’t flinch. She moves a step closer.

You blink at her, confused, flickering between timelines—unsure if she’s real or another ghost conjured to torment you.

You flinch at the sound.

“No—stay away—Don’t touch me!”

Natasha’s heart cracks in two. She swallows, her eyes burning, and crouches down slowly, holding your gaze.

She moves fast. Her hand wraps around the back of your neck, firm and practiced, just enough pressure to disarm, to bring you down. You try to fight, a choked cry escaping your throat, but your body gives in.

And before the black takes you, you hear her whisper:

“I’ve got you.”

Then you fall.

And Natasha—

She sinks to the floor beside you once you’re out. The knife clatters uselessly away. Your blood stains her hands as she holds them to your chest, steadying your shallow breaths. Her forehead drops to yours, and she presses her eyes shut.

Wanda collapses beside her, arms wrapped around herself, unable to stop shaking.

“I should’ve protected her,” Natasha chokes. “I promised her I would.”

“You did,” Wanda whispers, her voice barely audible. “You still are.”

But Natasha doesn’t believe it.

Not when the person she swore to protect lies unconscious on the floor, after nearly forgetting her own name.

⸻

The night is quiet.

Too quiet.

It shouldn’t feel like this—this stillness should be peaceful, comforting. But to Wanda and Natasha, it feels like a silence forged from something broken. Something spilled open that neither of them has been able to stitch back together.

You’re still asleep on the couch, breathing slow and shallow. The bandage on your hand has been redressed, and your body has stopped trembling, but your face carries the ghost of what happened. Wanda sits beside you, curled in on herself, her fingers intertwined with yours. Her eyes haven’t left your face in over an hour.

Natasha stands by the window, arms crossed over her chest, jaw tight. She hasn’t said much—not since she brought you down. Not since she watched the person she’d sworn to protect shatter in front of her.

“I almost didn’t recognize her,” Wanda whispers.

Her voice is hoarse. It’s the first time she’s spoken in minutes, and the sound of it cuts through the quiet like a blade.

“She looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I was the thing hurting her. She thought I was part of it, Nat.”

Natasha turns slowly, her face pale, strained. “I saw.”

“She pointed a knife at me,” Wanda says, almost to herself. “And I didn’t even care. I just wanted her to see me again. I didn’t care if she hurt me. I just wanted her to know I was real.”

The silence stretches. Natasha walks over to the kitchen island and leans on it heavily, her voice quieter now.

“I’ve seen people break before,” she murmurs. “Hell, I’ve broken before. But that… what she went through, what HYDRA did to her—I wasn’t there, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

Wanda looks at her, eyes wide and red, almost glowing with emotion. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I know,” Natasha says, then shakes her head. “But that doesn’t stop the guilt. Doesn’t stop the part of me that wishes I had found her sooner. That I had ripped those bastards apart before they did this to her.”

Wanda swallows. Her voice shakes. “She’s terrified of me sometimes. Like I’m a dream she doesn’t trust. I don’t know how to reach her when she’s like that.”

“You stay,” Natasha says softly. “That’s how. You stay and you love her. Even when she can’t see you.”

They fall into silence again, both of them watching you breathe, their hearts heavy and twisted in their chests.

⸻

You stir in your sleep. The world feels foggy when you start to wake, and the first thing you see is Wanda—curled beside you on the couch, still holding your hand, her head resting against the armrest. Her lips are slightly parted in sleep, lashes damp from tears.

She looks like she hasn’t slept at all.

Your eyes sting.

Memories slam into you with cruel force—blood on your hand, the knife, her face, the fear in her voice when you didn’t recognize her. The way your voice shook when you asked her who she was. The way you almost hurt her.

A sob claws its way up your throat before you can stop it.

Wanda wakes instantly.

Her eyes find yours, and she’s on her knees beside you in seconds, brushing hair from your face, cradling your cheeks in her palms.

“Hey, hey,” she whispers. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I hurt you,” you gasp, choking on the words. “I didn’t recognize you. I—God, Wanda, I thought you were part of it. I thought you were just… in my head.”

She shakes her head fiercely, her hands trembling as they cup your face. “You didn’t hurt me. You were scared. You were in a place you didn’t choose to be.”

“I’m broken,” you whisper. “I don’t even know how to stop this. I keep going back there, and I don’t know how to come back sometimes. I can’t do this, Wanda. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me,” she says, her voice cracking. “You’re here. You’re trying. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

You press your forehead against hers, the tears falling freely now.

“I want to get better,” you whisper. “I want to be okay. For you. For Natasha. For me. But I’m not ready to go back. Not to the city, not to the compound. I can’t face the world right now.”

Wanda’s breath catches. “What do you need?”

You look at her then, really look at her—eyes soft with love, with heartbreak, with the kind of devotion that could level buildings. You reach for her hand and intertwine your fingers.

“I want to stay here. Somewhere like this. Somewhere far from everything. I want us to start over. I want a life with you. Just us. I want to build something with you. A place that isn’t haunted.”

Wanda’s lips part. Her eyes search yours, and you see it—the flood of emotion, the sheer weight of it.

“You want us to leave?” she breathes.

“No,” you whisper. “I want us to begin. I want to move to a farm nearby. Just you and me. I want mornings in the quiet. I want to fall asleep beside you without fear. I want to find myself again. And I want to do it with you.”

Wanda exhales, trembling, and pulls you into her arms. You bury yourself in her warmth, letting the pieces of you find something solid to rest against.

“I would follow you anywhere,” she murmurs into your hair. “If this is what you need… then we’ll build it. Together. From scratch.”

You close your eyes. For the first time in what feels like years, the future doesn’t terrify you.

You can still feel the bruises. The scars. The trauma clinging to your bones.

But in Wanda’s arms, you can also feel something else.

Hope.

A beginning.

Tag list: @seventeen-x @womenarehotsstuff @redhoodte @ayrtonwilbury @justyourwritter69 @casquinhaa @womenarehotsstuff @justarandomreaderxoxo @yelldontwhisper @raven-ss @chickenlittlsblog @username23345 @justyourwritter69 @ayrtonwilbury

[zoeykallus]

In His Crosshairs

Crosshair x Fem!Reader (Enemies To Lovers)

Warnings: Cat and mouse tension/A bit of violence/Strong language

Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Prologue

This is a Crosshair x Female Reader story, slow burn, sharp edges, and a storm of tension that doesn't let go. Enemies to lovers? Eventually. But not before distrust, fire, and silence have carved their place.

You’re a pilot, independent, stubborn, always walking the line between law and survival. You don’t pick sides. Not until the Empire’s deadliest marksmen sets his sights on you.

It starts with a warning shot. And it doesn’t stop there. ______________________________________________________________

AC:

Been gone for a long time, but I'm back for now. With a lot of help from my friend Lena, I started to write again. She's not on tumblr, but I still want to mention her here, because she did translate my stuff into English, plus a few inspirations and some dialogue parts came from her. So she had/ and probably will have, quite some influence on this project and future projects. She also wrote the Prologue, because I suck at Prologues 🙂 BY THE WAY I LOST MY TAG-LISTS! So if you want to get tagged here or on any other projects, let me know in the comments or asks!

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 1. Through the Scope

The cold bit through your jacket like teeth, relentless and sharp, even inside the rusted-out cockpit. One of those damn planets where it either rained or snowed, and of course, you’d landed on a day when it did both. You cursed under your breath while slapping the console, trying to coax power back into the battered system.

Something felt off. The job had been too vague, the contact too late. Cargo was supposed to be waiting, “harmless replacement parts,” they’d said. You didn’t care what was in the crates. You just needed credits. But now the signal had gone dead, the drop site was empty, and your gut was twisting in that way it did right before everything went to hell. And your gut was right, 99% of times.

Suddenly, you felt it. Not heard. Not seen. Just felt... a shift in the air, a weight on your spine. Something was off.

The first shot hit half a meter from your head.

Not a miss. Rather a warning.

You’d run. Blaster in hand, boots slipping over wet metal and cracked stone, breathing hard as you bolted through ruined buildings and abandoned outposts. But he, whoever he was, was always behind you. Not close. Just there. Like a ghost made of precision and patience. His shots almost forcing you into a dance.

And now, you’re tucked between two rusted-out cargo containers, breath fogging in the cold, fingers wrapped too tightly around a blaster you barely know how to use. You've never been much of a combat girl. You don't know if you’re sweating or freezing. Maybe both.

“You’re holding the trigger too tight.”

The voice comes from behind you. Smooth. Controlled. Deliberate.

You spin, heart leaping, gun raised. And there he is.

Shadowed, quiet. The long sniper rifle in one hand. Helmet under the other arm. Dark armor, almost lost in the dim light of the ruined compound. But his eyes are something else. Gold. Sharp. Measuring. He looks at you, and it feels like he's looking right through you. That tattoo around his right eye.

Crosshair.

You’ve heard his name. Whispered. Warned. The sniper who doesn’t miss. That imperial sharpshooter.

“You…” Your voice cracks before you can stop it, but you bite down, force your chin up. “You’re not a very good shot, missed me a couple of times"

There’s a flicker in his eyes. Barely. The edge of a smirk that doesn’t quite make it to his mouth. He steps forward, deliberate and quiet.

“I don’t miss,” he says. “I just wanted to see how fast you run.” Dryly and bolder than you feel, you say, "Well, fuck you, Sir"

You don’t know whether to laugh or scream. Maybe both. Your fingers ache around your blaster grip.

“What do you want? I’m not worth anything. I’ve got no intel, no connections. I'm nobody.”

He watches you. For too long. Like he's reading something behind your eyes.

“Not entirely true. Someone wants you. And I was sent to collect.”

“Are you going to?” you ask, sharper than you intend. Fear always comes out as sarcasm when you’re tired.

Another pause. Finally, he lowers the rifle, slow, deliberate. He wants you to see how he does it.

Not a gesture of safety, not a real compromise. A message: You’re still not safe.

“Not yet.”

He turns. Walks away. No rush. No explanation. Just the heavy weight of his presence fading from your line of sight, leaving you alone, your heart hammering, your lungs burning. "What the fuck...", you whisper to yourself.

And for the first time, you realize: You're being hunted.

You made it back to your ship by sheer luck and bruised knees. The hangar was quiet, far too quiet for a place that used to hum with generators and merchant shouts. Now, only the dull sound of your own heartbeat echoed between steel walls.

You'd thrown yourself into the pilot seat, hands flying over switches and controls. No power. Of course not. You muttered a curse under your breath. “Come on, you stubborn piece of sh... ”

A warning chirp lit up the console. Motion sensor: external perimeter breached.

You froze. "Give me a break!" Your breath hitched. Then, instinct took over. You dropped from the seat, grabbed your blaster, and pressed yourself against the side panel near the entry ramp.

Silence.

You heard something, footsteps. Slow. Measured. Unhurried. Like someone entering a party, making a dramatic entrance, by being casual.

The ramp hissed open. Fog rolled in around tall black boots. Armor, scuffed but maintained. A long-barreled rifle, cradled loosely like an extension of his body. And that face, sharp lines, distant, unreadable.

Your gaze caught on it again, the tattoo. A black crosshair, inked clean over his right eye, the center aligning exactly with his iris. It didn’t feel like body art, it felt more like a threat. A mark of identity and purpose.

That eye found you instantly.

“You're not good at hiding.”

You forced your voice to hold. “Kiss my ass. You’re not good at knocking.”

He stepped inside slowly, gaze never leaving yours. “Didn’t think you'd answer.”

You leveled your blaster at him. He didn’t even blink, nothing.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice low. “Shoot. See how far you get.”

You didn’t. Of course you didn’t. Because you could see it in his stance, the way how still he stood, how his hand rested casually near the rifle, but not on it. He didn’t need it. He could take you down without blinking.

“What do you want?” you snapped. “I told you, I don’t have anything worth your time.”

Crosshair’s gaze flicked toward your cargo hold. Something about his gaze told you, he knew something you didn't.

“You’re transporting unauthorized supplies. Sealed crates with no tags, no serials. You know what that means.”

“Well... actually I don't” You faltered. Because you didn’t know. You hadn’t asked. And now that he’d said it, you realized… you hadn’t seen the usual logs. No standard freight clearances. No pickup codes.

“What did I bring?” you asked quietly.

He tilted his head, just slightly. “Explosives. Medical stims. Weapons. Rebel caches.”

Your stomach dropped. You felt it, not guilt, not really. Just dread. That creeping, cold sensation that everything you’d touched had just gone radioactive from one moment to the other.

“I'm just the pilot,” you said nervous, “I... didn’t know.”

His expression didn’t change. But something in his voice tightened.

“That's what they all say.”

You bristled. “I don’t work for them, or the others... or whoever. I didn’t sign up for anyone’s war.”

“No.” He took a step closer. “You just flew straight into it.”

You backed up instinctively until your spine hit the edge of the console. He was close now. Too close. You could see the wear on his armor, the faint scar just beneath the tattoo. The way his mouth stayed a hard, straight line.

“You gonna turn me in?” you asked, voice low.

He looked at you for a long moment. That gaze, sharp, cutting, intense, felt like it went straight through you once more.

Then, finally: “Not yet.”

You paused, a little confused. What was going on?

You swallowed. “Still not? Why?”

He leaned in just enough for you to hear his words like a whisper.

“Still deciding.” A shiver running down your spine, almost making you shudder. Your body was making many weird things right now under its surface. Things you didn't really understand right now.

And with that, he turned again. Like he hadn’t just peeled you open with a glance. Like he hadn’t just cracked something in your chest you didn’t even know was there.

He walked toward the exit, paused, and spoke over his shoulder.

“Ship’s grounded. Power’s dead. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

You blinked. “Hey, wait a minute...”

“There’s a shelter in the old comm tower nearby.” A pause. His gaze holding you in place for one more second, “I’m staying there. You can freeze out here. Or not." "Um... did you just invite me to your place or something like that?"

He didn’t wait and didn't answer. He was already gone. Leaving you behind again. A soft, resigned sigh out of your lungs. You hesitated, just a second.

"Damn it!"

Finally, you followed him. Because the hangar suddenly felt a hell of a lot colder.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

[withered-tears]

June walked into the main room to find Ratchet staring at various humam anatomy diagrams displayed through the monitors.

Bones, muscles, nerves, etc.

All of them focused sorely on the arms, wrists, and hands.

"Doing some human research, Ratchet?"

The autobot hums in affirmation.

"I believe Rafael's arms to be damaged. I'm researching possible treatment."

"What!? Raf is hurt?! What happened? Where is he?"

"Relax, he's not injured, just damaged. I suspect it is either an old injury acting up or poorly maintenance."

"He shouldn't have any old injury like that, I believe. Is he in pain?"

"No to my knowledge. But I've seen him manually recalibrate his servos way too often for it to be healthy."

June blinks, confused.

"Recalibrate his servos?"

Ratchet scoffs. "You know, when he," Ratchet holds his hands in front of his body, and after a slight pause, he flaps them in a quick (and loud) motion "does this. If Rafael was a bot, the only reason to do that would be to loosen up rusted joints and recalibrate his motors. It's not a particularly bad habit, but Rafael does it multiple times a day. His joints, human or not, should NOT de-align so fast. Something is clearly wrong, so -"

"Ratchet." June interrupted, sounding relieved.

"Raf's arms aren't damaged. He's just stimming."

Ratchet resets his optics, baffled. "What's stimming?"

Later that night, Ratchet finds himself working side to side with Optimus on the main console.

"I learned something new about humans today."

"Oh?" Optimus intoned, optics still focusing on his work, but voicing his curiosity.

"You know that thing Bee does, where his doorwings will flap in place when he comes back from a mission to find Rafael in the base? Or how Smokescreen's wheels start spinning when Ultra Magnus makes him stay in place too long for a lecture?"

The way your headlights would start blinking in sync with your voice, as you excitedly explained to me a new document you found in the archives, before you trained yourself out of it, because it was unsightful of a Prime.

"Turns out humans have a word for it. They call it stimming."

Optimus eyes brighten with interest. And as he starts babling theories about possible evolutionary needs for this stimming (a release of excess energy caused by low activity? or perhaps a smaller body than usual, or maybe it had nothing to do with energy and was instead a way to signal other nearby humans about their emotional state?) Ratchet couldn't help but steal a glance towards the Prime's headlights.

He couldn't help but feel disappointed to see them completely dark all through his tirade.

---

@quetzalpapalotl dunno if you recall but i made a lil post talking about this, that you liked, and i turned it into this lil thing!

(Btw, i hope its okay to keep @ u when i write this lil things that i think youd like? I dont wanna come off as spammy kydkgdkgd)