#especially at the ‘walking over the county line’ bit

[every-eye-evermore]

Someone please explain why this song has rooted itself so deep into my brain

[mysticmunson]

alpha!eddie and omega!reader where reader works with an asshole alpha who wants some claim over her and tries not to tell eddie because she knows he’ll be super protective (which she loves and appreciates but likes her joke and doesn’t wanna start trouble) but he comes in one day to spend her break with her, pick her up early, idk something like that and sees/hears him harassing her and steps in?? idk maybe that’s stupid but im a sucker for protective eddie so bad

covered: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

authors note: hi ur ask is not stupid at all and i loved it! i appreciate any ask i receive, especially one as amazing as this.

warnings: unwanted flirting, harassment, unwarranted touching, aggression, knives, mentions of breeding (18+ no minors)

Down on South County Road sat a quaint bookstore, the isles neatly lined, set in place based on genre and author. Receiving the job in senior year, you stayed after graduation, working between college courses. 

The owners were an elderly married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker, not up to the trends of CD’s or mixtapes, preferring the records they had collected from their youth. When you presented, they were kind and wished you well, assuring your job security when you returned. It made the process so much easier, bringing a casserole when you returned to work.

It was only a few blocks away from Eddie’s work, a local mechanic shop owned by a friend of Wayne’s, though he would’ve gotten the job without the association. He was skilled with his hand, an advantage for work and for you.

The close proximity was beneficial for you both, knowing that each other was only a walk away if anything occurred. The two of you were practically inseparable since you presented, his innate characterizations coming to life as he felt immense responsibility for your safety and wellbeing. 

However, the time apart was healthy, giving you each time to acclimate to your new way of life and, simultaneously, regaining the normalcy of the past. This plan seemed perfect for you two until you met Jack, the new hire at the bookstore.

Standing a bit over 6’2, his athletic build was helpful for reaching higher shelves just out of your reach. He had attracted a crowd of girls on most of his shifts, his dirty blond hair that swooped over his circular glasses containing his green eyes made most women light up. 

Those green iris’ of his didn’t stay on them though, they looked at you, ever since you came back from your heat. The notion that you could sense an alpha seemed preposterous until it occurred to you, immediately diagnosing his type. 

“Anything for you, gorgeous.” He’d quip at any request, flashing his marginally crooked teeth, that were sweet at first. 

Cindy, your coworker, had told Jack you were taken, but he couldn’t believe it. He felt the need to be yours and when an alpha became determined, there would be little to deter them.

His desires became more prominent as you worked together, using any and all opportunities to be in close proximity, taking control of situations that seemed slightly tense, and stating how you were ‘a perfect omega’.

Despite the uncomfort, you loved your job and didn’t want to work anywhere else. So you refrained from telling Eddie, knowing it would be a hardsell to make him relaxed with you there. He trusted you completely, but he didn’t trust other people, especially other mateless alpha’s around you. Even the thought of him with a needy omega made you physically ill.

It was a gloomy Thursday as you worked the morning shift, an old Tchaikovsky record spinning to give the room some life as you organized the bookmarks. As badly as you wished to be home, you knew this would likely be your final shift before your upcoming heat. 

As the time of the month approached, you felt more vulnerable than usual, not wanting to leave Eddie’s side. The days before made you more sensitive to everything. When music was too chaotic, when voices raised too high, and when anyone touched you felt head spinning for a variety of reasons. 

With your break at 12:30, Jack was scheduled to come in at 12, strolling in a few minutes past. His blue button up was tucked into his tan dress pants, oxfords shuffling on the welcome mat to rid of the dirt from the parking lot. Flashing a toothless smile, he made his way to clock in.

“You look beautiful today, omega.” He said softly, looking at you up and down as you adjusted the kids book section. You had asked him to stop calling you omega, just your birth name, but he always seemed to forget.

The lilac dress fit well around your bust and flowed at your waist, tied on your shoulders in small bows. Your ballet flats made the higher shelves more difficult to reach, creasing the sides as you slid a red Ronald Dahl novel in.

“Here, let me help.” Jack insisted, standing behind you and taking the book from your grasp. Placing it, you could hear the sharp inhale he took as he stood behind you, his frame capturing in.

Turning around, you were stopped by his chest as he looked down at you, an odd flash of protection, control, and lust. Your eyes widened as your back went against the wooden bookcase, hating the way your body froze.

It was unnerving to know people could sense your intimate nature, even more so when you know they wanted something out of it. As the anxiety coursed through your veins, your hands trembled, holding them within one another. 

“I know you’re scared, I can help.” Jack assured, bringing little comfort, “I can take care of you, let me.”

Shaking your head, you managed to slide away, going back behind the counter. Though free from his immediate reach, the seed had been planted in his mind, he wanted you and you could tell. 

Jack’s chest puffed out, his stature went from relaxed to rigid, back to your side in seconds. His green eyes had never felt more scorching, drilling into the side of your head as you checked the time, only 2 minutes from your break. 

“You’re gonna be my sweet omega, aren’t you? Can feel how sensitive you are right now, I can fix it.” He cooed, but his words felt painful, searing into your skin. Stomach twisting with anxiety, you swallowed the growing lump in your throat.

“I have an alpha, Jack.” You whispered, stamping the inside of a magazine about to be put out for guests to read. The covers of Cosmopolitan and People doing nothing to block the man from his intense gaze.

A condescending ticking noise came from his pink lips, “Oh omega, if they’re so good, why are you here? Why aren’t they here to help? I’m always by your side to help, aren’t I?”

The words left his mouth as Eddie walked into the store, your favorite pizza held in a to-go container as he took his break, deciding to surprise you due to knowing how susceptible you felt recently. 

He was aware of your new coworker, but only knew their name and his vigilance was sprouting. As he rounded the isles, he heard the voice becoming more intense, making his steps hasten. 

Coming into eyesight of the cash register, he saw your timid frame trapped between two firm grasps, “I can sense your heat, omega, let me help. We’d make such beautiful pups.”

A blood vessel nearly bursted inside Eddie’s forehead as he witnessed your rigid stance, tears lining your eyes with a wobbling lip. His grip went to the man's shirt as he dropped the box on the counter, holding him by the collar.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if I see you near her again, I’ll make you unrecognizable.” Eddie barked, Jack’s feet slightly off the ground as you scurried to the other side of the wall.

With a condescending laugh, Jack broke from his hold, shoving him backwards. “If we’re fighting for her, I’m taking you down, freak.” 

“Sweetheart, go to my truck.” Eddie commanded, glancing back to see you grab your purse and scurrying away. 

The man before him pushed his sleeves to his elbows, cracking his neck in preparation, but Eddie waited till the sound of the front door bell clang. As it shut, he grabbed his fringe and shoved his head against the wall. 

The grunt was music to Eddie’s ears as he grabbed his switchblade from his boot, flicking it open to hold near the, now, nervous man’s bobbing Adam’s Apple. The cool metal grazed against his warm skin, his fight gone. It was how Eddie knew Jack didn’t give a shit about you, he wasn’t fighting hard.

“You are going to finish this shift for her, work through her time off, then quit and never speak to her again. If I see your weasel-ass face, I will make sure you never have children. Don’t look at her, don’t smell her, and if you touch her? You won’t breathe long enough to beg for forgiveness.” Eddie gritted, seeing the fear in Jack’s face, the one of an alpha who hasn’t mated and hasn’t matured. 

“Okay, just get off of me, please.” He struggled to get out, feeling the blade against the soft skin of his throat. 

Dropping him, he stormed out with the box in hand, seeing your moderately more relaxed frame from inside the blue pickup. Adrenaline in his veins, he opened the door sharply and shut it just as precisely.

Cupping your cheek, he leaned in to give a heartfelt kiss, his thumb repeating calming motions. 

“Let’s go home, darling.” He sighed, his arm going behind you as he backed out of the parking spot. The action alone made your stomach flutter, feeling the burning sensation of need. Before you could fret, vocally, about the remainder of your day, he smiled, “Don’t worry, baby, I got you covered.”

hi babes! feedback, comments, and concerns are always welcomed and appreciated. thank u! :)

[allthesmutl0vers]

Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked- Chapter: 3

MDNI, 18+

Pairings: Wincest, Wincest + half sister, Implied John x Reader

Y/n

“So, will I be able to hunt too?” I ask John as he drives to get coffee this morning.

John looks over at me with a confused expression written across his face. “You want to hunt?” He asks with a hint of pride mixed with the shock in his voice.

I shrug. “Maybe, I mean, Sam said it’s the ‘family business,’ and I just thought… I don’t know,” my words falter. Am I really a part of this family? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. 

John pulls into the gas station parking lot and puts the car in park. He looks over at me with an arm behind the back of the seat. “You are a part of this family. That’s not even a question,” he says seriously. “And yes, hunting is the family business, but that doesn’t mean that you can just dive into it feet first. It’s dangerous, and you could die, y/n.”

I nod in understanding. I’m not used to having a protective father, or a father at all for that matter. But John doesn’t speak down to me when he explains the danger that comes with hunting; he just tells it how it is. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to hunt. 

“I want to,” I tell him, looking up from my lap and meeting his eyes. “I want to be able to defend myself,” I half explain. I don’t need to tell him that I’m not planning on sticking around very long, but I should learn some things before I go off alone now that I know what’s out there.

John sighs and sits back in his seat. His expression is far away as if he’s weighing the risks. And after a few moments, he finally nods. “Alright, alright. We’ll teach you what we know so you can hold your own if you get separated from us,” he looks over at me again, raising a finger and pointing it at me. “But that doesn’t mean that you can go off on your own. You stick with one of us, always, especially if we’re working on a case. Understood?”

I smile and nod. “Understood,” I respond, holding my hands up. 

“Alright then, let's get coffee and hit the road,” John says, opening his door. I follow behind him, excitement coursing through me and a little bit of nerves, too. 

By the time we enter Lawrence, Kansas, the sun has set into a pale shade of orange and pink across the sky. John pulls into an underground garage in the bunker, and I’m amazed at all of the different cars and trucks inside. Vintage vehicles line the walls as John pulls into an empty spot and parks the car. 

“Are all of these yours?” I ask, stepping out of the car and looking around.

“Yeah, we inherited them along with the bunker and everything else inside,” Dean explains.

They told me all they knew about the men of letters and explained how the society worked before they inherited it. Apparently, before John and the boys came along, the men of letters never hunted. Instead, they passed the buck to hunters and cataloged the information for their records. No hunters were allowed inside the bunker, and neither was anyone who wasn’t a member, which women never happened to be either, apparently.  

When we walk inside, I’m amazed at the sight I see. I don’t know what I expected it to look like inside, but it wasn’t this. 

The first room we walk into is massive. A long oak table in the middle of the room with chairs surrounding it. On top is a map of the entire country, with highways and city and county names. It’s incredible. 

Straight ahead is another room that resembles a library. Tall bookshelves cover the walls, filled with all kinds of books. In the center are a few tables and chairs with lamps on top. 

“To your right is the kitchen,” John says, pointing to the right side of the first room we came into. “On your left is the infirmary,” he says, pointing to the left side of the first room. “And straight ahead through the library is where all of the bedrooms are, as well as the bathrooms, armory and down to the dungeon and electrical room.”

“You guys have a dungeon?” I ask, bewildered. 

John nods. “We do, and you are not to go inside of it without direct orders from either me or the boys,” John says sternly. “We do interrogations in there from time to time, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

I nod and purse my lips. “I understand.”

“Alright,” John says with a sigh of relief and grabs my other two bags, leading me through the library and down the long hallway. “Your bathroom is right across from your room,” he says, stopping in front of a closed door. He opens the door and holds it open for me to walk in. “This is your room. You can decorate it however you’d like. We didn’t get a chance to give it a really good deep clean, but you have fresh sheets, blankets, and a couple of pillows. You also have a dresser here, a desk, and a small closet in here,” he explains, showing me around the room. 

“Thank you,” I say politely. I look around the room as John sets my bags down by the bed. The bedroom reminds me of the college dorm rooms I’ve seen on TV, small but not extremely small. Just enough room for one person. 

“You’re welcome. I’m right down the hall, and Sam and Dean’s rooms are toward the front of the hall where we came in. I’ll have them write their names and hang them on their doors so you don’t get confused, and I’ll do the same with mine if you need anything,” John says with a small smile. “Also,” he pulls out his phone. “Take their numbers and my backup just in case,” he says, handing me his phone with his contacts pulled up.

I copy the numbers into my phone and save them under their names, and John’s back up as ‘John #2.’ “Done,” I tell him, handing him back his phone. 

John nods and pockets his phone again. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. We don’t have a case right now, but a call could come in at any time from the other hunters we work with. You’ll meet them soon enough. I’m going to my room to turn in. Knock or send me a text if you need anything,” he says, walking back to my bedroom door and opening it. “Welcome home, y/n,” he says over his shoulder before walking out of my room and closing the door behind him.

Home.

The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. This isn’t home to me. My home is Washington. The green trees, the waterfalls, the beautiful hiking trails, my house. 

From what I’ve seen, Kansas is flat, dull even. It’s all valleys and flat ground. There aren’t trees everywhere like Washington, no roaring waterfalls on the cliffsides. No ocean. 

I start unpacking my bags, at least for now. I’m not staying forever, just long enough to learn what I need to defend myself, and then I’m getting the Hell out of dodge. I hang out my shirts in the small closet, put my shorts, underwear, pajamas, and socks into the drawers, and put my favorite dark romance novels on the desk. Next, I pull out my blanket from home, take off the blanket already on the bed, and put mine on, along with my sheets. Call me what you want, but silk sheets are better than any other kind. Especially for my hair, and I will die on that hill. 

I’m putting the finishing touches up when I hear my phone buzz on the desk where it’s charging. I haven’t turned it on since I left. I don’t want to hear people’s pity for my mom being murdered. I don’t need it. My mom was the light in my life, and when she died, the world dimmed. Nothing anyone can say can bring her back, and heartfelt texts only make me want to break down and send me down the rabbit hole of anxiety and overthinking about who, or now, what killed her, her last moments, and the last thing I said to her, which I will never repeat to another living soul. 

I push the thoughts away and pick up my phone, seeing a text from John. 

John: Settled in?

Me: I guess so, as much as I can be. 

John: Do you want to talk?

Do I? Honestly, I don’t know. 

Me: Any word from the police?

I watch the three little dots that indicate he’s typing appear and disappear a few times before his text comes through.

John: No, none yet. Want me to light a fire under their asses?

I can’t help but chuckle and smile a little. 

Me: Think it would help?

John: Maybe, maybe not. But I will if you want me to. 

The sentiment makes my heart flutter, and a smile appear across my lips. 

Me: Thank you. But I don’t think Pug Face will move any faster unless there’s donuts involved.🍩

John: Pug Face? You mean Detective Sanders?

Me: Yeah, that’s what I call him. His face looks like a pug. 

John: Come here.

What does he mean? Like, to his room? 

Me: To your room?

John: Considering that’s where I am, yes.

I sigh, stand up from my bed, and walk out of my bedroom. Why does he need to talk to me in his room? What does he have to say that he can’t just text me? I knock on the door labeled with his name and his deep voice sounds from the other side. “Come in.”

I open his door and peek inside. He’s sitting at his desk with a laptop and his journal open on top. His room isn’t really decorated, but he has maps and charts all over his walls, along with newspaper clippings, and on his dresser is a picture of a younger version of him, a baby Sam and toddler Dean, and a beautiful woman with blonde hair. They’re smiling in the picture in front of a house. This must be Sam and Dean’s mom, John’s first wife, who he said was killed by a demon. 

“What did you need?” I ask, stepping further into his room when he waves me inside.

“Shut the door,” John says, nodding his head to the door behind me. It reminds me of when I would get in trouble with my mom. Getting me off to the side so she could lecture me about what I did wrong. 

I shut the door behind me and John motions for me to come closer until I’m standing right in front of him as he scoots his desk chair back. “Okay, the door is closed. Am I in trouble?” I ask, sounding more nervous than I’d like to.

“Is there something you should be in trouble for?” John asks, not answering my question. I hate it when adults do that.

I sigh and roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t know, that’s why I asked. You told me to come in here,” I respond. 

“Firstly, watch your tone,” John warns, holding up a finger. “Secondly, I wanted to talk to you about how you talk to the police,” he sits back in his chair, looking me up and down. “If you want to hunt, you’re going to have to learn respect. We portray law enforcement most of the time, and local police don’t appreciate the attitude,” John explains. “And that includes nicknames like ‘Pug Face.’”

I swallow and nod. His tone of voice isn’t condescending, but the firmness of it makes something tingle deep inside of me. Somewhere, it definitely shouldn’t. 

“Do I make myself clear?” John asks. 

“Yes,” I mutter, trying to ignore how his low voice makes me feel ashamed and dirty. 

“Yes?” John falters as if he’s waiting for me to finish speaking.

“Yes…sir,” I respond, wondering if that’s what he wants to hear. Hoping it’s what he wants to hear.

I see a flash of darkness in John’s eyes as he looks at me. He takes a shallow breath and then blinks a few times, clearing his throat. “You know you can call me ‘dad,’ too, right?” he asks in that same deep voice that stirs something deep in my core. 

“I know…I just,” I try to explain but can’t find the words. 

John holds his hands out for me to take and I find myself instantly going into them. He takes my small hands in his and pulls me just between his knees. “You call me whatever you feel is right. I’m not going to pressure you to call me dad when you’ve only met me a handful of times in your life,” one of his hands leaves mine, and he brushes a strand of hair out of my face, cupping my cheek. “That is my cross to bear, not yours. You call me whatever you like. But when it comes to orders, ‘yes, sir,’ is how you need to address me. Is that clear?” 

His touch heats my skin where he touches it, only fueling the feeling that’s growing deep in my core. It’s inappropriate, it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself from taking a tiny step closer between his legs and letting my response come out in a breathy, bedroom voice. “Yes, sir.”

A groan escapes John’s throat, and he swallows hard. “You should go. Now,” he responds. But it’s not an order this time, his tone is almost begging me to go. And I should, I really should because I don’t know if I can control myself if I don’t. I know it’s wrong, but the way his hands hold mine and touch me ignite a flame inside of me that I don’t want to smother just yet. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” I ask, trying my best to sound innocent. “I really don’t want to sleep alone. I get bad dreams,” it’s not a complete lie, but it’s a lie tonight. A lie to stay.

John nods and stands up, pulling me against him and hugging me tightly. I lean into his touch and hug him back. “You can sleep here whenever you want,” John assures me. He pulls back, keeping his hands on my waist. “Go change into some pajamas, and I’ll clear this stuff up,” he kisses me softly on my forehead and drops his hands. 

I quickly change into some pajamas. Flannel shorts and a tank top and make my way back to John’s room. On my way back, the sound of slapping skin on skin catches my attention behind me. I tip-toe back to the source of the sound behind a door and place my ear against it. 

“Fuck, just like that,” a man moans, sounding eerily similar to Sam. 

“That’s it, Sammy, take it,” another man says with a grunt. 

My eyes widen, and I take a step back.

Was that…Dean? Are they…? No, no fucking way… Does John know?! Should I be the one to tell him?

I almost have to slap myself to bring myself back to reality. They’re definitely fucking each other. “Holy fucking shit,” I whisper. I can’t help how it turns me on either, though. This is all so fucked up. What did I get myself into? 

I walk back to John’s room with a swirling mind and a pit of fire deep inside of my core that’s only growing stronger and stronger. Maybe I should sleep in my own room tonight. No, fuck that. I mean, I’m sure John knows, and if he doesn’t care, then why should I?

Am I really about to come onto my dad right now?

No, I won’t instigate it. But, I mean, if he starts something, I won’t stop him.  Fuck, I need to douse myself in holy water. Ice-cold holy water.

Chapter Four

[bradshawsbaby]

all i wanna do is make love to you

pairing: rhett abbott x girlfriend!reader

author’s note: based on this anonymous prompt! i actually got a couple requests along these lines, so i hope you all enjoy! it’s my first time writing spice for rhett, so please be gentle.

warnings: 18+ for explicit sexual content and language; also, lots of fluff!

Walking down the hallway, your fingers laced through Rhett’s, you felt your heart start thumping a bit more noticeably in your chest and prayed that he wouldn’t notice the way your palms were starting to sweat. You knew it was silly to be getting so worked up, especially considering you didn’t even know where the night was going to lead, but you couldn’t help it.

Hours away from Wabang, this was the first out-of-town rodeo you’d attended with Rhett since the two of you had started dating. It was also the first one where you were the only one in the stands there to cheer him on, his family and the rest of your friends having too much going on back home to make the trip.

Most importantly of all, it was the first one where you and Rhett would be sharing a hotel room for the night.

You had traveled to out-of-town rodeos to support Rhett before, sure, but that had been when the two of you were just friends, and you’d always ended up bunking with one of your girlfriends. This was the first trip the two of you had taken since you’d made things official at the county fair, and the reality that you’d be spending the night with him, alone and away from the prying eyes of your families and neighbors, was suddenly hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Though you and Rhett had been together for a little over a month now, you’d yet to take that final plunge in your relationship. You wanted to more than anything, and you sensed Rhett did as well, but the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hesitating and dancing around each other whenever it came down to it. Although neither of you said a word about it, you knew what it was—there could never be any going back once you took that final step. No matter what, you’d never be just friends again. And there was something a little bit scary about that, even if just friends was never what you had wanted to be.

Those feelings aside, it was also rather challenging to get any proper alone time when the both of you still lived with your families, families who were wonderful as could be, but also nosy in every way. There’d been one blissful afternoon when you’d had the house to yourself and invited Rhett over, thinking it might finally be your chance, only for your parents to come home early from their visit to your grandparents’ ranch. They’d invited Rhett to stay for dinner, but it had been a rather strained meal, your mama making small talk with your boyfriend while your body cried out for him with unsatisfied need. There hadn’t been any other opportunities since then.

Until now.

Tonight, you and Rhett had nothing but time and no one but each other, and your stomach was in knots, wondering if it was finally going to be the night.

You knew that Rhett wanted you. After his last ride, which had put him in first place and guaranteed him a spot on the next leg of the circuit, he’d come to find you in the crowd, crushing your body to his as he kissed you deeply. He always got a bit worked up after a ride, face flushed and pulse racing and skin hot to the touch. But as he’d nipped at your bottom lip and pulled you more tightly against him, you’d also felt an unmistakable signal of his desire pressing against your stomach. It had sent instant shockwaves of need coursing through your body and had you pressing your legs tightly together during the drive back to the hotel, especially when Rhett rested one of his large, beautifully calloused hands on your knee.

He wanted you, and you wanted him. That should have made things simple, but you still couldn’t stop your heart from pounding as you let him lead you down the hallway of the small, mildly seedy hotel he had booked for the night, the only one that had had reservations available.

Rhett squeezed your hand tightly as he came to a halt in front of your room—302—and slid the key card into the panel. As soon as the lock clicked, he glanced down at you with one of those rugged smiles that made you weak in the knees, his thumb lightly caressing the back of your hand as he pushed the door open.

Holding your breath softly, you squeezed his hand in return and stepped into the room with him, reaching out for the light switch as the door swung shut behind you.

Your heart sank in your chest when the lamps flooded the room with light, revealing two queen-sized beds. Two very separate queen-sized beds.

Did Rhett not want to…? Had you stupidly misread the situation? Would he ever want to?

He must have noticed the crestfallen look on your face, the way your eyes were glued to the two beds, the way your lips involuntarily turned downward even as you tried not to let your disappointment show.

“Honeybee,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as he rested a hand on your lower back and leaned in closer. “I just…I didn’t want to make any presumptions about tonight,” he confessed, his breath tickling your cheek as he murmured in your ear.

Turning your head, you tilted your gaze upward to meet his eyes. Those gorgeous blue orbs, usually so calm and serene whenever he was looking at you, now looked more like a stormy sea, a powerful heat and intensity in them as his eyes raked your face and body. Your knees suddenly felt like a newborn calf’s and the butterflies in your stomach started flapping their wings so intensely, you were almost surprised your feet were still anchored to the ground.

In a moment, Rhett’s lips were on yours and your fingers were buried in his hair, tugging slightly on the honeyed locks as he lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and supporting your back as he pressed you up against the wall. His lips were hot and hungry against yours, his tongue stroking your bottom lip as he begged entrance into your mouth. You gladly granted it. Your mingled moans filled the air as you clung to him, his insatiable mouth moving from your lips to your chin, then to your jaw and down your throat.

Panting softly, you cradled the back of his head, whimpering as he sucked lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Rhett,” you moaned, feeling your nipples hardening within the confines of your bra and your desire shooting straight between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you sound so pretty when you moan my name like that,” Rhett gasped, pressing his face against your neck and peppering the skin he’d been biting and licking with soft kisses.

“I want you,” you whispered, biting down on your lower lip. “I want you so badly. I need you, baby,” you told him, pressing yourself more tightly to him.

“Honeybee,” he groaned, running his roughened thumb over your lower lip. His eyes darkened considerably when you parted your lips and gently took his thumb into your mouth, sucking softly and letting your tongue brush against the calloused pad. “Fuck,” he grunted harshly, immediately carrying you over to the bed closest to the door and laying you down atop the comforter. You could tell he was rock hard in his jeans as he lowered himself down on top of you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you brought his mouth down to yours and kissed him again, your back arching up as he ran his hands down your sides.

“You really want this, baby?” Rhett asked quietly, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not—”

“I want this,” you cut him off, your voice firm. “I want you.”

“I want you, too, honeybee. More than words can fucking say,” he groaned, cupping your face in his hands as he lowered his head to capture your lips once more in a heated embrace.

His mouth was all over you—on your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. His hands were everywhere, too. They were all over your body, tracing every contour as if he was trying to memorize the shape of you. He began grinding his hips against yours, the friction of his jeans and yours causing a delicious tension as you reached down and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. Rhett broke your kiss just long enough to help you pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, then his lips were on you again, making you see stars as he worshiped every exposed inch of your skin with his mouth.

It wasn’t long before his hands were sliding up underneath your shirt, tenderly caressing the bare skin underneath. Just as he had helped you, you helped him remove your top, adding it to the growing pile of clothes littering the hotel room floor. Within minutes, the two of you had shed almost all your clothes, Rhett lying on top of you in his boxers, while you were clad in nothing more than your bra and panties. You were so glad you’d decided to go with the matching pink lace set you’d purchased recently.

In this state of undress, you could feel every inch of Rhett’s stiff length pressed against your thigh, and you knew that your panties were absolutely soaked with need for him. Just as he slowly began to inch his fingers inside the waistband of your underwear, however, you suddenly gasped out, “Rhett, wait!”

Rhett froze immediately, removing his hand from your panties and gazing down into your eyes. “Too much? Too fast?” he asked, obvious concern in his voice as he stroked your cheek. “We can stop, honeybee,” he assured you gently.

“No, no,” you shook your head, immediately feeling embarrassed. “It’s not that. I just…”

“What, baby?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple and brushing your hair back from your face.

“It’s just that I—well, it’s sort of been a while,” you admitted, your cheeks growing warm as you looked up into your boyfriend’s eyes.

Rhett didn’t even hesitate before assuring you, “That’s okay.” His touch was so soft as his fingers brushed your cheek. “How long?” There was no judgment in his tone, just an honest curiosity.

“Almost two years,” you stammered, suddenly feeling horrendously shy and self-conscious. “It’s just that—well, in all honesty, I haven’t been with that many guys to begin with and there just hasn’t been anyone—and it’s so hard to meet people—and I guess I just haven’t—”

“Honeybee,” Rhett whispered, pressing a finger to your lips to silence your rambling. He softened the gesture by pecking your lips tenderly. “You don’t have to explain yourself. And you don’t have to be embarrassed,” he added, noting the way your skin had grown warmer beneath his touch. “Do you think it matters to me?”

Lower lip caught between your teeth, you covered your face slightly with your hands. “No. But it’s just that—baby, I know you have more experience than me. And I know that shouldn’t matter. I don’t care about the other women you’ve been with. But I just hate the thought of—I don’t want to disappoint you,” you confessed.

Rhett’s breath caught in his throat. He was quiet for a moment, just staring down at you, an intense, but unreadable expression on his face. The silence stretching between the two of you was just starting to make you nervous when he suddenly reached up to cradle your face between his hands.

“I want you to listen and listen good, you hear me?” he asked, clearly waiting for a response. When you nodded slowly, he continued. “You could never, ever disappoint me. I don’t care how many guys you’ve been with or how long it’s been or how inexperienced you think you are. And I don’t care about any of those girls I’ve been with either. You know why? Because I care about you. I want you. You and nothing but. Do you understand me?”

You felt tears pricking the backs of your eyes as you nodded again, your throat too clogged with emotion to speak.

“Baby, we’re only going to do what you’re comfortable with here tonight. But please don’t ever think you could let me down because that’s just not possible,” Rhett assured you, running a gentle hand down your arm.

“Rhett,” you whispered, lifting a hand and resting it against his cheek. “Oh, God, baby, I need you. Please,” you begged, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh, baby, believe me. I’m gonna take such good care of you tonight,” Rhett promised, leaning in and kissing you.

The kiss started out tender and sweet, but soon it was deepening once more, your tongues swirling in tandem with once another as Rhett’s hands began exploring your body just as they had been before. His fingers once again traveled down to the waistband of your panties, but you didn’t stop him this time. Instead, you let out a soft gasp of pleasure as his fingers began tracing your bare slit, slipping through the slickness that had already gathered there.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he grunted in obvious approval, his fingers tracing lazy circles around your bud as you pressed yourself against his hand.

“Mmm, feels so good,” you sighed, your eyes fluttering half closed.

“Yeah?” Rhett whispered, his lips ghosting a kiss over yours as his fingers continued their gentle exploration between your legs. “How about this?” he asked, slowly, gently, carefully slipping one finger inside you. He moaned under his breath when he felt you clench around him.

“Yes, yes,” you nodded furiously, mewling delightedly when he began easing his finger in and out of you in a rhythmic fashion. Your lips parted slightly, your breaths starting to come in short spurts.

“You look so fucking gorgeous, my beautiful little honeybee,” he murmured against your ear. Lowering his head down, he began pressing kisses to your breasts through the fabric of your bra, his hand still moving at a steady pace between your thighs.

“Oh, baby. Oh, yeah, just like that,” you moaned, your hips bucking slightly as his finger began pressing deeper inside you, hitting that sweet spot. “Can you…oh, shit, baby. Can you add another finger?” you asked, wanting to feel him filling you up even more.

Rhett smiled at that, chuckling softly as he nodded and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you want,” he told you, slowly adding a second finger inside you. “Damn, you’re so tight, baby. Feels so good,” he breathed out, his fingers starting to pump into you at a faster pace.

You threw your head back in pleasure, your moans getting louder and your legs starting to tremble as Rhett’s work-roughened fingers had you chasing a high you’d never experienced before. Whimpering out his name, you reached up and tugged at your bra until your breasts spilled out, your nipples hard and heavy. “Mouth on me. Please,” you begged him, arching your back up off the bed.

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Within seconds, you felt Rhett’s warm mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue flicking out against the pointed nub and then flattening out across your breast. He wasn’t at all afraid to get in there, showering your breasts with as much tender affection as he did the rest of you. As soon as his mouth pulled off one with a wet little pop, it was attaching to the other, driving you wild with the way his tongue swirled around your sensitive nipples. Resting your hand on the back of his head, you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging sharply every now and then as a signal of your appreciation and approval.

The band of desire was tightening in your stomach and you were certain that at any moment, it was going to snap completely. “Rhett,” you moaned out, your legs beginning to shake even more violently. “Rhett!” you gasped, crying out loudly when his thumb began brushing against your swollen clit.

“That it’s, honeybee,” Rhett whispered encouragingly, lifting his head to gaze down at you. “Let go.”

Writhing underneath him, you panted and moaned as he brought you closer and closer and closer, until finally—finally—that band in your stomach snapped and you found yourself coming hard and fast, all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

“Rhett, Rhett,” you babbled out his name, reaching for him as you rode through your climax.

“I’m right here, doll. I’m right here,” he soothed, holding you close.

When you were finally finished, he slowly removed his fingers from you and lifted them up to his lips. Your eyes widened in shock when he slipped them into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. No guy you’d ever been with had ever done anything like that before. No guy had ever even managed to get you off with just his fingers.

“I—you—holy shit,” you laughed breathlessly, your head falling back against the bed.

“That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Rhett grinned, kissing you. “Watching you fall apart like that? Truly nothing better.”

“Felt pretty damn good, too,” you giggled, kissing him again. You could taste yourself on his lips, which was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant.

Rhett shifted beside you, trying not to crush you with his body weight, and you could feel his erection, so hard it must have been almost painful for him, brushing against your thigh. Gazing into his eyes, you slowly ran your hand down his chest, following a trail until you were slipping your way inside the waistband of his boxers, reaching down to grasp him gently.

He grunted involuntarily, twitching in your hand. Just as you moved to begin stroking him in earnest, however, he suddenly stopped you with a hand on your arm.

You looked at him in surprise, eyes widening. “Don’t you want me to—?”

“Of course I do,” Rhett chuckled, though his breath seemed to catch in his throat slightly. “But there’s plenty of time for that. Right now, it’s all about you, honeybee,” he told you, his tongue snaking out and brushing across his bottom lip.

“What? Baby, no,” you insisted. “You made me feel plenty good. It’s your turn now.”

“I’m gonna show you,” Rhett began, gently removing your hand and rolling you fully onto your back, “that you don’t have to earn anything from me, baby. I want to make you feel good again and again.” Winking, he lowered down and began sprinkling kisses across your collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of your throat.

“Rhett,” you whimpered softly, letting out a little sigh as he unhooked your bra and threw it to the floor. Clutching your hips in his large hands, he held you tightly as he began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body, licking and nipping at your skin as he went. “Oh, fuck, baby,” you moaned, burying your fingers in his hair. You were already wet and needy for him once again, even after the explosive orgasm you’d just experienced.

“Gonna take care of you,” he whispered against your skin, pressing kisses to each of your hip bones. “Gonna take such good care of you, beautiful girl,” he murmured, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs with an almost painful slowness.

“Rhett,” you nearly sobbed, reaching up and cupping your breasts in your hands, squeezing slightly just to feel some sort of relief from the pressure that was building up inside you.

“Shh, honeybee, I’ve got you,” Rhett said gently, sitting up on the bed and lifting your legs slightly as he tugged your panties down to your ankles and then slipped them off completely, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. When he ran his hand over you, you thought you might climax again right then and there, clenching around nothing and biting down roughly on your lower lip.

“Need you, Rhett,” you gasped, your skin feeling flushed and overheated as you lay flat on your back, staring up at him pleadingly.

Rhett could tell you were serious from the look in your eyes. Nodding, he dipped his head to press a kiss to your lips, his hand brushing against your breast. “Alright, baby. Alright,” he whispered huskily, kissing his way back down your body until he was settled between your legs, spreading them wider. His hands were so large that they took up a huge expanse of your inner thighs, a sight that somehow managed to arouse you even more than you already were.

“Baby,” you sighed quietly, sliding your fingers through his soft, silky hair once more.

You let out a gasp when, without preamble or warning, Rhett suddenly shoved his head between your thighs and pressed a kiss directly to your center, causing your grip on his hair to involuntarily tighten.

“You taste real good, honeybee,” he told you with a wink, looking up with pride at the dazed look on your face for a moment before his attention was redirected once more.

Breath catching sharply in your throat, you looked down just in time to see your boyfriend spreading you open with his fingers, his nose pressed against the bud of your clit as his tongue darted out and ran a lazy stripe up and down your slick entrance, lapping up the wetness that he found there.

“Fuck! Rhett!” you cried out, your hips bucking instinctively. His tongue was already driving you insane, and he had barely started.

Rhett chuckled slightly against you, the vibrations of it coursing through your body and making your legs quake. Gripping one of your thighs tightly in his grasp, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, granting him even greater access to your aching core.

Your boyfriend devoured you like a starving man, his face buried so deeply between your legs that you were almost concerned he wouldn’t be able to breathe. His tongue was hot and rough as it swirled against you, his lips occasionally wrapping around that tiny, sensitive bundle of nerves at your center and sucking softly.

“Rhett! Oh, oh! Baby!” you practically screamed, lifting your other leg over his shoulder. It felt so good, you almost couldn’t stand it. In the haziness of your mind, you weren’t sure if you should beg him to stop or keep going. Ultimately, however, pleasure won out. “Don’t stop! Don’t—oh—don’t stop!”

His mouth still on you, Rhett lifted his blue gaze to rest on your face, his eyes softening at the sight of your pleasure. He slid one hand up your body, fumbling for your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. He squeezed gently, as if wordlessly encouraging you to let go and enjoy.

“Rhett, baby, I’m gonna—oh, I’m—Rhett!” you moaned loudly, your legs clenching tightly and then spasming with release as you achieved your second orgasm of the night.

Rhett helped you ride through it, his head still pressed between your thighs as he nuzzled you and pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs. When he finally felt the trembling in your body pass, he pulled back and held onto you as he dropped a kiss onto your stomach.

“You’re delicious, honeybee,” Rhett smirked affectionately, licking his lips. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, curling up beside you and pulling you into his arms. “How are you feeling? Everything okay?”

You smiled at him, loving the way he kept checking in with you to make sure you were alright. “More than okay,” you nodded, cupping his cheek in your hand. “That was…mind-blowingly incredible, baby. I’ve never—I mean, you really—damn, that tongue is amazing,” you finally laughed, gripping the back of his head as you pulled him in for a kiss.

Rhett grinned, softly running his knuckles up and down your arm. “You’re gonna give me an ego, honeybee,” he teased.

“You already have one, cowboy,” you smirked, rolling your eyes playfully. “But,” you added, pressing your body closer to his, “I suppose it’s well earned.”

Laughing, Rhett reached out to stroke your cheek before kissing you, a kiss that was slow and meaningful and left no questions in your mind about how deep his feelings for you ran.

When he finally pulled back, the two of you lay gazing at one another, so much passing between you without a word being spoken.

“Make love to me?” you asked in a small voice, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, my sweet honeybee,” Rhett groaned desperately, his mouth hungrily seeking yours once again. His arousal was more than apparent as he shifted on top of you, subconsciously grinding his hips against you.

Yearning to feel him finally inside you, you began tugging at his boxers, attempting to pull them down as your lips molded against his, your kiss growing more passionate with each second that ticked by. When you found that you couldn’t manage to budge them more than an inch or two, you let out a little growl of frustration, which caused Rhett to lift his head, grinning.

“Someone’s impatient,” he joked, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you blame me?” you demanded, blowing a lock of hair out of your face.

“Not at all,” Rhett murmured, reluctantly climbing off you so that he could pull his boxers off, revealing his full, naked glory.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes raked him up and down, a fluttery feeling erupting in the pit of your stomach.

“Gimme one second, honeybee,” Rhett murmured, holding up a finger as he hurried over to the jeans he’d left flung on the floor, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Opening it up, he pulled out a condom, and then hurried back over to you, already tearing it open.

“What happened to not wanting to make any presumptions, hm?” you teased, licking your lips as he pulled the condom out of the wrapper.

“A man can dream, can’t he?” Rhett shot back, his face splitting into one of those gorgeous grins you loved so much.

“That he can,” you nodded, holding out your arms to him.

His breathing becoming a bit more labored, Rhett deftly rolled the condom on, then stretched himself out over you once more. Laying atop you, he stroked your hair back from your face as he stared into your eyes, mesmerized by you. “You ready, baby?” he asked quietly, the air between the two of you suddenly feeling still and silent.

“I’m ready,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him softly, tenderly, as he lined himself up with your entrance, guiding his head through your folds and slowly running it up and down. “Oh, Rhett,” you breathed out, suddenly overcome with emotion as he began to rock his hips gently, slowly pushing his way inside you.

“I’m here, honeybee. I’m right here. I’m with you. Always,” Rhett cooed, holding your face in his hands as he thrust in and out, sinking deeper and deeper into your tight walls until he was buried all the way inside you, your hips pressed flush against each other. He stayed there for a moment or two, the sound of his and your ragged breathing filling the space between you. “Oh, baby, you feel so good,” he grunted, his eyes rolling back for a moment. “So good for me, my sweet girl.”

Hooking your leg over his hip, you silently invited him to begin moving again, signaling that you were ready. Your joint movements were slow and languid at first, the two of you getting used to the feeling of one another’s bodies. You fit together so well, and you knew in that instant that you would never know pleasure in the arms of any man but Rhett Abbott for the rest of your days.

Rhett seemed to be able to anticipate every one of your needs, rolling his hips sharply when you needed a bit more force and then slowing it down when your whimpers told him that you needed a break. Considering he’d already driven you to two orgasms, he didn’t want to overstimulate you to the point of displeasure or pain. His hands were everywhere, guiding you, supporting you, pleasuring you. It was like your body had become an extension of his own, and he knew how to read every signal like a well-loved book.

You knew his orgasm was imminent, could feel it cresting in the way his body tensed and his grip on you tightened. Your own body responded in kind, your breathing becoming shallower and your legs shaking where they were wrapped around Rhett’s waist.

Groaning sharply, your back arched itself up off the bed, your head thrown back so that your neck was vulnerable and exposed to Rhett’s greedy mouth. His lips were on your throat in an instant, sucking soft hickies into your skin as he began to thrust harder and faster into you, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his climax.

“Rhett,” you gasped out, clinging to him and trying to meet him thrust for thrust. “Rhett—oh, baby, I’m so close,” you confessed, knowing that you’d be spiraling over the edge in another minute or two.

“Fuck,” Rhett moaned, grunting as he felt you clenching around him. “I’m right there, too, honeybee. Just—let go. Just let go,” he gasped, his words sounding like they were as much for him as they were for you.

Within seconds, the two of you were crying out each other’s names, clinging to each other as you rode through powerful climaxes and fought tooth and nail to catch your breath. Rhett collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy as he buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Gently carding your fingers through his hair, you held him close and pressed kisses to his forehead.

The two of you were silent for a while, soaking in the gravity of what had just passed between you. Just as you’d always known, there would be no going back now. But thank goodness for that. You were his, and he was yours, and there was nothing more in this world that you wanted.

As the minutes passed in the comfortable silence, your senses returned to you more fully and you became aware of the sweat dripping down both your bodies, the dampness of the sheets underneath you, the smell of sex that still permeated the air.

Rhett seemed aware of the same. He suddenly lifted his head to look at you, cradling your face between his hands. “God, honeybee,” he whispered, his calloused thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks. “You’re so perfect. So unbelievably perfect.”

“So are you,” you replied, still a bit breathless. Lifting a hand, you brushed your fingers through his hair, which was a bit damp from all the energy he’d been expending.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Rhett murmured, his voice rumbling in his chest in a way that had you wondering if you might not just be able to go for another round. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, making sure to slide off the used condom and dispose of it before lifting you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom.

Settling you down on the countertop, Rhett grabbed a washcloth off the rack and ran it under some warm water, gently cleaning you up as your eyes fluttered closed and you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“How you feeling, doll?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he held you.

“Like I’m real glad that I traveled almost four hours to come with you to this rodeo,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking him on the lips.

“Funny you say that. I’m feeling the same,” he chuckled, dropping the washcloth on the counter and resting his hands on your hips.

“I’m also feeling like I could use a nice, hot shower,” you smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist. “What do you say, Abbott? Care to join me?”

“Honeybee, it’s like you can read my mind,” Rhett smiled, lifting you back into his arms as he carried you into the bath.

A couple hours later, you were safely ensconced in your boyfriend’s arms, his breathing soft and steady in your ear as he slept soundly beside you. And there, in the darkness, in the bed where you’d made love for the very first time, you whispered aloud the words that had been buried in your heart for so long, the words neither of you had ever uttered out loud, but you knew were true all the same.

“I love you, Rhett Abbott.”

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Creepy Bill makes an appearance and you learn something new about Jake.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Chapter 3

Chapter 4: BDE

It's a peaceful lazy Sunday morning. The perfect time for you and Jake to sleep in a little and mess around before you get out of bed. Before things get too intense, there is a sharp knock at your front door.

Jake and you break the kiss and you mutter,

"Who is at my door at this time of day?"

You roll over and pull back the curtains, your front porch is visible from your bedroom. You look through and see a surprising face.

"Fuck, it's creepy Bill," you say in a whisper.

Jake is on high alert now, looking out the window behind you.

"Your restraining order is still in effect, what is he trying to do?"

You shrug and before you can say anything else Jake is out of bed has formulated a plan.

"El, you call the police. I'll keep him distracted until they get here, it shouldn't be long."

"Don't do anything stupid," you say as you slip on a short silk robe to make the walk to the kitchen where you keep your phone on the charger. Jake follows you out and is answering the door as you call the police. You step into your kitchen enough to be hidden behind the wall.

You call 911.

"San Diego County 911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher coming into the line.

"I have a trespasser who is also violating a restraining order," you state calmly. You're more annoyed than threatened by Creep Bill, especially since Jake is here.

"Okay, ma'am. Do you feel safe?

"Yes, you do. My boyfriend is here with me."

"What's your address?"

You give her the address.

"Okay, the police should be there in 3 minutes, there's a patrol car nearby. Can you help I you with anything else?"

"No thank you, you've been helpful."

"Call us back if your situation changes at all."

You hang up and slip your phone into your pocket and look around the wall to the front door. You are absolutely gobsmacked. Jake is completely nude, leaning on the door frame with the other hand on his hip like he's talking about the weather with a neighbor and not confronting a creepy stalker.

Once you shake the shock out of your brain you run to the bedroom to get something for Jake to be decent by the time the police show up.

Their conversation filters into the house.

"Billy Boy, I didn't think I'd see you around here after our little talk."

"It's you, what are you doing here? Where's Elsa?" Bill stutters out.

You frantically search your room and eventually find a longer robe that will at least cover the minimum on Jake, despite its obnoxious floral pattern.

Running back to living room and the front door you overhear Jake as he says,

"Well, Billy Boy, I am a special invited guest of Elsa's. Especially because I'm her boyfriend."

There is just a tiny worried,

"Oh," from Bill as the response to Jake's statement.

You tap Jake on the shoulder and hand him the robe,

"Put this on quickly,"

you hiss. He looks over his shoulder and puts together that the police will be arriving shortly.

"That sounds like a great idea honey,"

he says loudly for effect as he grabs the robe. It is mercifully long enough to cover the bits that need covering, but not by much.

On cue the police roll up to the curb and get out. One officer ushers Bill away and the other asks if she can step inside.

Jake and you move back from the door and she enters, closing the door behind her. Jake is standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders.

"We had a report of trespassing and violation of a restraining order. Can one of you explain what happened?" she asks in a business tone.

You take the lead.

"Yes, I have a restraining order against that man in the yard, Bill Wilson. I have a copy if you need to look at it. He showed up this morning," you say to her.

"Can I get your names?"

"I'm Elsa Matthews and this is Jake Seresin,"

Jake cuts in,

"Lieutenant Jake Seresin, Navy."

"Is this your house, ma'am?" the officer asks.

"Yes, it is.

"Can you get your IDs to fill in some information on the report?"

Jake and you turn and go opposing ways to get our IDs, your purse is hanging on the coat rack next to you and Jake's wallet is in his pants in the bedroom. You hand them to her.

"Okay folks, sit tight for a little bit while you discuss what's going on with my partner. I'll be back with your IDs shortly."

She goes back outside and Jake and you sit on the couch, silent. He has his arms around you as you wait for the officer to return.

The officer knocks and opens the door and walks around to sit on the armchair.

"Here's the situation, Mr. Wilson has violated the restraining order and will be booked on criminal trespass and violation of a protection order. He will likely post bail if it's his first criminal charge. We will add regular patrols of your block for the next week or so, Ms. Matthews. Mr. Wilson is claiming that you, Lieutenant Seresin, should be charged with public indecency as you answered the door in the nude? Can you clarify that for me?"

It's Jake's turn to speak,

"I did answer the door in the nude as I was reacting to what I perceived as a threat to myself and my girlfriend."

There is the barest hint of a small smile from the officer as she hands your IDs back to you.

"Okay, that's about all I got for you folks, you may get a call from the DA's office if they need more information. Here's my card if you have any questions,"

she hands you a card as she stands up,

"Have a nice day."

She's quickly out the door, as soon as it shuts you sneak over to the window with Jake right behind you to see Bill being put in the back of the patrol car in handcuffs. The female officer gets in and the car pulls away.

"What a weird way to start the day," you say as you sit back down on the couch. Jake moves into the kitchen still in your flowery robe and says "I'll start some coffee."

"That sounds good, thanks," you reply.

You sit there for a while as the coffee brews in the kitchen, when an absurd thought occurs to you and you burst out laughing. Jake slides across the kitchen looking mildly concerned.

"Elsa, are you okay?' he asks gently.

You are starting to lose it and are laughing like a maniac. You manage to get out, between gales of laughter,

"You literally went at Bill with Big Dick Energy. Did you plan that on purpose?"

"Umm, no. I did realize when I got to the door I forgot to put on clothes, but figured that it could be a tactical advantage and catch him off guard," he answers.

"Well it worked, plus I think he's going to have second thoughts about showing up here again and a lot of insecurity trying to measure up to you."

He laughs and comes over to you on the couch and hugs you close.

"I'm just glad I was here to bring that Big Dick Energy and help keep you safe," he says.

"Yeah, it made you feel less creeped out by the whole thing having you here with me."

Jake starts to walk back into the kitchen for coffee when you're struck with a question.

"Jake, how did Bill recognize you and what was that about a talk?"

He pivots on his heel and turns back to you, his face is slightly pensive.

"I went and warned him off the first time, when he left the roses," he says sitting down as he takes your hand into his.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, your eyes searching his, "That day or now?"

He sighs,

"That day, because I was serious about respecting your space, unlike that dipshit." He waves a hand towards the front door and presumably Bill.

"Later, we got together and I didn't want to make you feel obligated or owe me anything. I did it because I wanted to do at least one last good thing for you, maybe make myself feel better for epically fucking things up."

You place your free hand over your clasped hands,

"You're a good man, Jake. Most guys would have marched over here as my knight in shining armor expecting something."

He snorts,

"I knew you well enough, even then, to know that would have been a terrible idea and just pushed you away harder."

"Jake, you took care of me for no other reason than you wanted to," you whisper,

"There's not a lot of people in my life who have done that."

Jake's big hand comes up and cradles your cheek,

"El, I'd do anything for you, even if I wasn't in your life. Know that, okay?"

Nodding, the barest hint of a tear forming at your lash line,

"I love you so much, Jake."

He thumbs away the stray tear and leans in to kiss you.

"I love you so much, El, always," he says, brushing his lips against yours as he talks.

The depth of your feelings for Jake and knowing how deeply he loves you turns the kiss passionate quickly. Jake's hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair. The other landing on your hip as you mold your body to his.

Jake's hand on your hip pulls you close to straddle him, the satin of your robes making the slide easy.

You waste no time in opening the silly floral robe Jake is wearing to expose his chest, running your fingers down his chest hair and sternum.

Jake mirrors the gesturing pushing your robe over your shoulders, allowing him to dip his head to your chest. His attention of lips, tongue, and a hint of teeth causing you to buck your hips against his growing bulge, the slip and easy slide of the satin robes against each other doesn't provide the friction, the pressure, or relief you're looking for and you whine in frustration.

Jake huffs out a laugh.

"Need something, El?" he asks, looking up from his efforts at your nipples.

"Yes, you," you answer, lifting your hips enough to pull the satin away from you and Jake. His breath catches as the silky fabric slides over his hard cock.

As soon as the barriers between you are gone, you position your hips and slide your wet pussy down his dick. The relief and connection is almost instantaneous. You pause when you're fully seated, enjoying the stretch. Jake wraps his arms around you and you duck your head into his neck. Together you let out a sigh, acknowledging the depth of this intimate moment. You try to hold it as long as you can, this bubble of time, but the need to feel Jake everywhere is starting to overwhelm you and you clench around Jake. He groans at the sensation,

"Fuck, El, you do need me and I need you now, baby."

And that is all you need to start riding him.

You roll your hips and start a slow and smooth rhythm. Jake's hands slide down to your hips, helping you on each movement up and down.

Leaning back you plant your hands on Jake's pecs as a firm base to increase your leverage and lengthening each stroke. Your pace is starting to speed up and Jake's hand slides from his grip on your hip to your clit. The first press of his fingers on your clit makes your eyes roll back in your head.

"Just like that, Jake, feels so good," you pant out, enjoying how Jake's rhythm on your clit syncs with yours as you ride him.

"Getting close, El?" he asks, voice slightly strained,

"Can feel your pussy squeezing me, don't know how it can get any tighter."

"So close, so close Jake. Wanna come, please," you whine on the edge of begging.

"Shh, I got you," Jake replies, sliding down on the couch to plant his feet firmly on the floor. This is the leverage that he needs to fuck up into you, each thrust hitting your cervix. This new position throws you off the cliff and you come hard around Jake.

"There you go, El," Jake rasps, his hand gliding from your clit to your hip. His grip on your hips is strong as he practically lifts you up and down as he fucks up into you. The waves of pleasure from your orgasm are still breaking and crashing around your body as he chases his pleasure. Each thrust of his multiplying the sensations.

"Fuck, El, gonna come."

"Come for me, Jake, fill me up," you beg. Jake's grunt, the way his head lolls back on the couch, and his slowing pace let you know he has reached his peak.

You don't get off him, instead lying down on his chest, listening to his rapidly beating heart. You tuck your head into his neck and he wraps his arms around you, still inside you, mimicking your moment from earlier.

Minutes pass as you both return to earth, finally when your stomach growls, you lean back to look at Jake. Jake is looking at you with utter adoration in his emerald eyes.

"I love you so, so much, Jake Seresin," you say as you cup his face in your hands. With quick peck to his nose you say,

"And I'll always be here to appreciate you and your Big Dick Energy."

Jake lets out a loud guffaw and quickly rolls you on to your back.

He gives you a sloppy kiss as he says,

"I love you, El, and you get all my Big Dick Energy."

"Lucky me, shower and then brunch?"

"Sounds perfect, El."

Chapter 5

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

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@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

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[darry-rules]

Bloody Bones

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair, funny eyes – one yellow and one green – and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted.

Old Betty’s house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read; her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her the skill as part of her magical training.

Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place. It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he’d seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Betty’s porch, chattering away to her while she stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine.

“Raw Head” was the name Old Betty gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Hog-Scald Hollow. The razorback didn’t mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Betty around her little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He’d even walk to town with her when she came to the local mercantile to sell her home remedies.

Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Betty around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Betty came to the mercantile without him.

“Where’s Raw Head?” the owner asked as he accepted her basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Betty said: “I ain’t seen him around today, and I’m mighty worried. You seen him here in town?”

“Nobody’s seen him around today. They would’ve told me if they did,” the mercantile owner said. “We’ll keep a lookout fer you.”

“That’s mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway,” Old Betty said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over her weekly pay.

Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home. It wasn’t like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home, she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.

“Where’s that old hog got to?” she asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Betty saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn’t belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then she saw him taking the hogs down to Hog-Scald Hollow, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then she saw her hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.

Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend. It was murder to her, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was her friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but she knew the dark secrets too. She pulled out an old, secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page. She lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then she began to chant: “Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones.”

The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Betty’s cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummeled the treetops.

“Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones.”

Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out through the window, heading in the direction of Hog-Scald Hollow.

When the silver light struck Raw Head’s severed head, which was piled on the hunter’s wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter’s wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: “Bloody bones, get up and dance!”

Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.

Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.

It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft.

The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.

“Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?” he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.

“To see your grave,” Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.

“Very funny. Ha, ha,” The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bears claws could clearly be seen.

“Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?” he snapped. “You look ridiculous.”

“To dig your grave…” Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter’s neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.

Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.

When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: “You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o’ Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?”

“To sweep your grave…” Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced past the old well-house, past the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head’s gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon’s tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.

“Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?” he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.

“To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!” Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.

Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Betty. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter’s horse through town, wearing the old man’s blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.

[creative-splurges]

Bodmin & Wenford Railway

I am partial to a heritage railway. You might have noticed that with my trips to the Swanage Railway, the Bluebell Railway, and the time I took a walk just to see 60163 Tornado go past. There’s a lot to love of course – the lovely details of a steam engine are great to photograph, especially in monochrome, and the sight of a steam train chuffing plumes of smoke in the countryside is a classic photograph. There’s often old artefacts around and about a heritage railway station too, full of interesting textures and surfaces. Luckily there’s heritage railways all over the country, with various trains to see and ride.

So of course, whilst we were on holiday in Cornwall in 2018, we figured it was worth taking a trek over the county to see the steam railway in Bodmin. And before you ask, yes: these photos were shot in 2018, edited during lockdown in 2020, and are being posted in 2023. Another reminder I didn’t want about how quickly the last five years have just disappeared.

Being five years ago there won’t be much recollection so we’ll just be focussing on the photography. Which is probably for the best if I’m honest.

On steam that day was 4247.

1/200sec, f/4, ISO 100, 28mm

And as is proper, the staff were dressed in traditional, period-accurate clothing.

1/640sec, f/4, ISO 100, 100mm

To emphasise the oldness of it all, I put some of the images through Analog Efex Pro to make them look a bit more old-fashioned.

1/250sec, f/4, ISO 100, 35mm

Some of those textures I mentioned at the start: these old milk jugs.

1/1250sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

Something else I’m partial to when photographing railways, new or old: the perspective lines when shooting along a platform (this one has been put through Analog Efex too).

1/400sec, f/4, ISO 100, 92mm

1/80sec, f/8, ISO 100, 24mm

1/200sec, f/4, ISO 100, 32mm

I am also partial to a lot of the machinery and mechanical detail of a steam railway. From the mechanism of the wheels to the valves and gauges of the driver’s cabin, I love how they look, especially the textures and details when they’re dirty.

1/50sec, f/4, ISO 250, 60mm

1/160sec, f/4, ISO 100, 75mm

1/320sec, f/4, ISO 100, 105mm

Some of these textures come from the old tatty luggage. My parents used a suitcase like the one at the top of this pile until well into the 90s.

1/200sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

Eventually we got on the train for a ride.

1/1000sec, f/4, ISO 400, 24mm

On board there were still some amazing perspective shots and textured surfaces to be had.

1/40sec, f/4, ISO 500, 45mm

1/80sec, f/4, ISO 500, 32mm

We rode the railway to the other end of the line, and then alighted to get some more photographs of the railway at work. Unfortunately, whilst the volunteers generally kept themselves dressed in a way appropriate for the age of steam, they still afforded themselves some modern luxuries. So whilst at first glance this image might look largely accurate – he’s even drinking his tea out of a lovely metal 60s mug – you’ll probably soon notice the massive anachronistic digital watch.

1/160sec, f/4, ISO 320, 50mm

Although his tea mug was a lovely shade of green.

1/125sec, f/4, ISO 320, 105mm

There was also the opportunity to get a few more mechanical shots of inside the cab.

1/25sec, f/4, ISO 250, 58mm

1/30sec, f/4, ISO 250, 105mm

At this end of the line, there were a lot of opportunities to get some perspective shots of the trains, this time with some engineers at work.

1/640sec, f/4, ISO 100, 55mm

1/400sec, f/4, ISO 100, 95mm

1/250sec, f/5, ISO 100, 180mm

1/320sec, f/4, ISO 100, 67mm

1/640sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

On the train back I snapped a few shots of the trackside scenery.

1/160sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

1/200sec, f/4, ISO 100, 40mm

When we got back to Bodmin, the signal box was open for viewing.

1/320sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

1/640sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

1/15sec, f/4, ISO 100, 32mm

It also allowed for a slightly more elevated view of the train on the platform.

1/400sec, f/8, ISO 100, 24mm

As you can see, I had the sense back then to shoot at f/8 to get more of the train in focus – an example of the sort of thing I’ve started to forget over the last few years of not shooting so much.

One of the other textures you find a lot around heritage railways is old advertising signage. Most of it was metal signs so over the decades they’ve usually picked up a bit of patina or rust making them far more interesting.

1/160sec, f/4, ISO 100, 45mm

1/200sec, f/4, ISO 100, 35mm

Right at the end of our visit, we left the station itself, and headed towards one end of the car park, where we could get a bit of a look at the train yard I photographed from the train earlier.

1/320sec, f/4, ISO 100, 24mm

1/320sec, f/4, ISO 100, 82mm

1/250sec, f/4, ISO 100, 88mm

1/250sec, f/4, ISO 100, 55mm

That was the end of this trip to the railway. It was also the last thing we did on our 2018 trip to Cornwall, but thanks to the odd way I’m releasing things there’s plenty of images still to come from that holiday, once I figure out how to categorise them.

We’ve also been back to the Bluebell Railway since as well, so there’ll be more steam train photos too at some random point in the future.

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[cherienymphe]

all of my writing explores dark themes such as non-consent, dubious-consent, and a/b/o subjects. if any of this offends you, this has been your warning!

➯ dividers by @firefly-graphics​ | @straywords​​

➯ banner by me

Country Club Chronicles

They say when a boy teases you, he likes you, but what does it mean when he enjoys leaving his mark? You and Rafe Cameron have a bit of history, but you never realized just how twisted it was.

Friends Like These

As the only female friend of Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, your princess treatment is envied on this side of the island. But your whole life is turned upside down when you’re betrayed in the worst way possible. Who needs enemies with friends like these?

Brother May I

Sarah was the sister he resented, Wheezie was the sister he adored, but even after years in the Cameron household, you still didn’t know how Rafe felt about you. {stepbrother!Rafe}

The Hills

Unable to watch JJ look at someone else the way you wish he’d look at you, you start to distance yourself from the Pogues. In an effort to numb the pain, you make a drunken mistake, but nothing is coincidental, and you learn better than anyone that Rafe Cameron always gets what he wants.

Wicked Games

Rafe refuses to let you go after your abrupt and disastrous breakup {ex-boyfriend!Rafe}

Only For Tonight

Rafe’s ego outweighs his jealousy when he decides to show you off one night, proving that best friends really do share everything.

Do I Wanna Know?

You and your boyfriend’s best friend just can’t seem to get along, and your world is turned upside down when you discover he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

Pretty When You Cry

If anyone has a right to Kelce’s sister, it’s going to be Rafe Cameron. Not some Pogue.

Amnesiac 

“There’s something wrong with your love story, baby...”

After a surfing accident leaves you with little to no memory of everything that happened before that day, you start to wonder if the blond in what little memories you do have is the same one who claims to be your boyfriend.

When The Party’s Over

Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

Sugar Rush Series

The life of a bimbo girl in Rafe Cameron’s world.

Southern Charm (feat. Chase Andrews)

Privileged assholes always want what they can’t have. Or, alternatively, you turn down the wrong guys one too many times.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

I Know What You Did Last Summer

When your friends start dying one by one, you’re not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who’d want to hurt them. You do…but he’s dead. You know this because you buried him.

His Father’s Son

After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house. {stepson!Rafe}

White Lines & White Knights

You and Rafe are using each other until you decide that’s not what you want anymore, and the spoiled rich kid will do whatever it takes to have his expensive toy back in his bed.

Pity Party

You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County  the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

➥ Just the tip!

Wicked Games

➥ That night

   ➥ Part 2

➥ Rafe’s reaction

➥ Happier times

➥ The morning after

➥  When you lost your virginity to Rafe

➥ The Pogues find out

➥ As a boyfriend

➥ Jealous

➥ Ex Boyfriend

➥ As a dad

➥ Rafe’s reaction to a pregnancy

➥ Rafe gets cheated on

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

Cantina| Tech

Note: no thoughts just horny

Warning: 18+, Bathroom intercourse, multiple orgaisms, lots and lots of intercourse, and Tech Horny

Reader: Female

Y/n smiled as she wore the tight dress charcoal in color with a red choker the small skull charm hanging from the necklace.

Couples passed by her in the small back hall, most likely going into the alley way or back rooms to get off with one another.

She had been waiting for her partner, he had filled her thoughts before hand via message that he would be all her's tonight, and whatever she wanted she would receive it.

So she dolled herself all up, pushed a shot of the finest space whiskey she could get at the bar down her throat and waited.

Finally the wait was over and Tech pushed himself through the crowd, making his way over to the usual meeting spot deep in the small hallway.

"Sweetheart. Finally!" Y/n spoke with a sigh, he made his way over as she reached out her arms for a hug.

"Mesh'la."

She smiled as he placed a hunger filled kiss on her lips, both filled with apology and longing.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too babe." Y/n spoke.

Tech chuckled watching her legs squeeze together from the bottom of his eye.

"Me? Or my cock?."

She chuckled, "well when you tell a girl she can have whatever she wants, especially in the way you told me."

He chuckled, he knew he had riled her up before hand and even riled himself up, the idea of his seed filling her multiple times had filled his head, she begging for even more as he fucked her so much the cum coating her outer pussy walls and his cock became a frothy white.

"Then what is it? That you want tonight?" He hummed as she bit her lip, "Tell me every detail."

She chuckled as he kissed her, she responding with a kiss as she pulled away biting her lip.

"Well...is it bad that I want it all?" Y/n responded.

"All of what Princess? Tell me." Tech teased.

"All of your cock...all of your cum in me." Y/n told him, "for us to fuck so much that neither of us can walk."

"Odd." He spoke, kissing her softly, "that's exactly what I was thinking."

She hummed a chuckle, kissing him he kissed back, his hand falling onto her leg as he slowly pushed her closed legs open, his hand finding his way between them and slightly going up her dress, rubbing a curled finger against her lacy panties as she hummed softly into the kiss, gripping his arms as her legs spread open more.

Pulling away from the kiss Tech removed his hand from between her legs.

"Let's go to a back refresher babe." Y/n told him grabbing his hand as he let her lead the way, taking him back to the singles bathroom, she was close with the owner, and always had herself a clean refresher when she needed or wanted.

They were ment for actual bathroom use.

But the cantina knew what they were mostly be used for, as the bar doubled as a nightclub during late hours. The bar even making money off them, many would have to pay to use the back "refreshers".

She pulled him in and as soon as the door was closed she was pinned against it with Tech locking it in the same moment. He trapped her further with a kiss, pressing her agaisnt the door as he pushed his tounage inbetween her lips, her hands at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Tech pulled away causing her to whine, and try and pull him back in.

"Pouty little thing aren't you?" Tech teased as he grabbed the front of her dress yanking it down releasing her breast from confinement.

He leaned down giving each nipple a wet kiss, swirling his touange around her senstive buds with flicks of his touange. She groaned heavily, as he pleasured her breast she lifted up her dressing, the bottom half pulled up to her stomach as she slipped her hand into her panties, rubbing her clit.

She groaned throwing her head back, Tech's hand joining her in her panties.

"Doing that will get you no where." He told her as he slipped his middle and ring finger inside her soaked pussy.

"T-tech!" She cried as he fingered her.

He bit his lip, watching her come undone was pure bliss, and not only did it make her feel good it made him feel good as his hard covered cock pressed up against his cod piece.

"F-fuck..." he groaned softly, the speed of his fingering increasing.

What he would do to be inside her right now. Her begging for him to dump his balls in her, filling her with cum just to want to bust another one in her. Fucking her senseless, her grabbing his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin marking her as his, calling him baby, or sweetheart as he busted another load into her, forcing her to keep track of how many times he filled her with his seed.

"I-Im cumming!" She cried.

"M-me too." He groaned.

She cried out in pleasure as he followed, squirting on his fingers she meweled in pleasure, his thumb rubbing her clit as well as he came in his blacks and armor.

He pulled his hand out of her, licking his finger's clean as she stood in a daze, both with heavy breath.

"T-tech...please..." she begged, pulling at his armour.

He removed his armour as quick as possible, tossing it aside and out of the way, his blacks having a wet stain on them, if they hadn't gotten into the moment so quick he would of been ashamed getting off to pleasuring her not even having been touched, but he didn't give one fuck.

He had removed his bottom armor, and now was removing his top armor, and as he did she dropped down to her knees, seeing her dropped to her knees he quickly pulled off his chest peice which blocked his vision, tossing it to the side her watched her pull down his blacks down barely enough to release his cock and balls.She drolled at the sight of it, so cock and cum hungry, his cock dripped with his cum.

"Fuck yes..." she spoke softly, licking his tip and dragging her tounage along his shaft cleaning up his previous mess.

Tech groaned as he watched her deep throat him, just to pull out and lick her lips.

"Please mouth fuck me." She begged as he flustered.

"Whatever you want baby girl."

He grabbed her chin as she looked up at him with needy eyes, his tip pressing against her closed lips.

"Open."

She did as told and wide, he slipped in her mouth and down her throat as he bit his lip, a hand at the back of her head holding a wad of her hair, and started thrusting in her mouth, a groan at the back of her throat sent a vibration up Tech's cock and spine, he released a massive moan as his hips sped up.

"Baby girl...what a slut taking my cock like this...oh fuck."

Tech hit deep down her throat, attempting not to be so rough with her as he mouth fucked her.

He pulled out giving her a breather as he jacked himself off as she did, her panting heavily a hand in her own panties as she opened her mouth again for him to countie mouth fucking her, he happily slid back in her, balls deep in her mouth as he pulled groans from her throat only increasing his pleasure.

"Baby girl..." he muttered pulling out of her mouth as he painted her face with cum.

She was surprised none the less an eye closed to not get cum in it as she licked any that fell on her lips.

Usuing his thumb he cleaned her face, his seed dripping down his palm as Y/n grabbed his wrist licking his hand clean, and sucking his tumb clean.

A few fingers under her chin lifted her head up to look at him, her cheeks flustered with the idea of sex clouding her mind as she looked up at him in lust.

He couldn't help and returned the look, helping her stand up as he brought her into a passionate kiss.

Groaning into the kiss Tech held her hips.

"Maker what a pretty little thing..." he moaned into the kiss, Y/n's core throbbing to let another release out as Tech removed her panties.

He pulled away from her helping her remove the snruched up dress rolled up on her abdomen as she wiggled out of the tight ring of chlothing, then helping Tech with his black's pulling them off all the way.

Pushing him back, Tech pulled her along, he was sat on the toliet seat as Y/n pulling away from the kisses.

He leaned forward, kissing her stomach softly as Y/n chuckled her hand raking through his hair. He looked up at her as she kissed him, Y/n carefully lowering herself above as his hand held his cock as he helped her line his tip up with her folds.

Lowering herself onto him, his tip pushed in her as she bit her lip a hand braced on his shoulder The two groaning together, as she sat herself on his lap, his cock deep in her as she brought him into a sloppy kiss.

His hands with a tight hold on her, he kissed back, white filling his vision.

Her ontop riding him was the sexiest thing in his mind, and everytime she did it made him melt like putty, loose between her fingers as she controlled him.

Tech pulled away, groaning heavily, her hips raising up and down, he griping her thighs in pleasure.

"oh...maker..." he groaned, Y/n pulling him into another sloppy kiss, her walls squeezing tight around the base of his cock.

Tech pulled away causing to Y/n chuckle at him, his forehead resting on her shoulder as she countied to ride him, his breath heavy and needy as he moaned heavily, she leaning into his ear meweling his name, her finger nails gripping onto the back of his neck.

"You want me to cum on you? Hmm? Tell me slut."

"P-please..." he groaned, "please cum on me- Oh!-"

Tech watched as she rode him, bouncing up and down, throwing her hips occasionally. His nerves were putty, all of them seemily rewired to his cock.

His cock accidentally slipping out, just to readjust and sit herself back on it.

"M-maker...oh..." Tech meweled, drool running down his chin, his head rolled back along with his eyes.

How was someone so fucking good like this, her tight walls squeezing even harder around him earing a heavy groan.

"P-please cum..." he begged softly, "please cum on me!"

She gripped his shoulders slamming down on him a final time as she moaned squinting onto his cock as her walls uncontrollably tightened around him.

Tech released a mewel, Y/n having to force his head on her direction as he had let himself go, basking in her release.

Y/n kissed him passionately as Tech tried to bring himself from cloud 9. He kissed back, his hands on her hips both moaning into the kiss, Y/n pulled away, Tech whined as she lifted herself up and off his cock.

She chuckled kissing him, returning him back to earth, his cock still hard. He stood up following her, pushing her against the nearby wall as he lifted a leg up and to his hip.

"Tech..."

"I know baby girl me too..." he moaned as she kissed him, he kissing back and lining his cock up with her folds once more

"You wanna cum with me huh?" Tech spoke a hand braced on the wall besides her head as he slipped in her, pushing deep in her.

"T-tech-" she groaned.

"Fuck... still so fucking tight..."

Y/n bit her lip as Tech started thrusting into her, her head falling back as she groaned, her own hips taking partially over as she grinded on him with each thrust.

Tech groaned, his speed increaseing as he lifted her leg higher.

"Right there! Tech! Oh- Yes! Mhmmm-"

Tech contuined to fuck her senseless, and in no time she was begging to cum.

Demanding she keep it in he sped up his pace she whinning in pleasure as he groaned, feeling a final snap coming along.

"T-tech I- I can't- Please!"

"Oh Baby! Baby Im gonna cum."

"P-please!- fuc'mmmm..."

He kissed her passionately, filling her with cum she came on him, the two moaning into each others mouths as Tech held her close.

The pulled away for air as he carefully pulled out of her, dropping her leg as her knees gave in, he luckily catching her and pushing her up agaisnt the wall to keep her steady.

"I fuckin love you..." she told Tech, melted hearts and stars in her eyes as she held onto him, her cheeks flustered as he smiled weakly.

"I love you tok baby girl." He told her kissing her temple as she smiled her head resting on his shoulder.

Best Cantina Ever.

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH 

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands. 

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything. 

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed. 

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet. 

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied. 

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible. 

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted. 

“As you wish princess.” 

...(The Next Day)

   You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents. 

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back. 

“Hey Y/N...” 

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive. 

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair. 

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.” 

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe. 

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you. 

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!” 

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever. 

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website. 

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way. 

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan. 

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

[aceghosts]

oooh I, M, Q, T, W for the fanfic asks?

Thanks for asking! I rambled a little on some of these answers.

[Fanfic Ask Meme]

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Not really? I’ve kinda given up on considering anything a guilty pleasure, and I have just decided to read or write whatever the fuck I want. I think it's working out for me pretty well so far, considering I'm having fun.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I don’t really have a lot on the back burner; I’m trying to spend my time working on the Five Years Later AU, Blue’s canon, and prompts. These are a few ideas that I would consider on the back burner:

Rooney’s Canon: This is for my Shepard from Mass Effect. It is going to happen, but I think I need to take an afternoon and just plan it all out. I have a few ideas here and there, but I would like something more concrete.

World Ender: This is a recent idea, but oh boy, this one is gonna go full-tilt horror. Essentially, Blue dies at the hands of the Seeds and is buried in a shallow grave. But Surprise! They came back from the dead, and something isn’t quite right with everyone’s favorite goofball. It's heavily inspired by Lord Huron's The World Ender.

Batman (2022) Longfic: I would love to write a longfic for Blue’s DC canon, but I just don’t have any specific ideas right now. I figure after I write a few prompts for them; I’ll figure it out. That’s how it usually happens anyway.

And all my original stuff.

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

Essentially any fandom that isn’t Mass Effect, FC5, or DC. I’m just generally not really interested in those projects anymore, but I may revisit them at a later date. I have two Fallout oneshots, a Cyberpunk 2077 oneshot, and a The Outer Worlds oneshot that are unfinished at the moment.

I also have a few discarded scenes from the Werewolf fic. Originally, Blue wasn’t going to know the werewolf who was attacking Hope County, but I thought it would make it more interesting if they did. Also, the scene where Blue and Joseph are having tea in the Church, was originally a scene where Blue accidentally runs into Joseph and his siblings while in their wolf form. While adorable, I didn’t think it fit the fic well. Unfortunately, for y’all, you missed John getting knocked over by Blue’s wagging tail.

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I wanna preface this with a 'Mutuals, none of this is about you.' As far as I know/remember, I don't think I've seen anyone do this.

I don’t know if this really counts as a trope, but I immediately nope out of a fic if a writer starts being weirdly fucking aggressive towards a character that is either (a) a potential rival love interest for their ship or (b) a character’s canon love interest. It is 20-fucking-22; you do not have to hate on that character. Also, there is a double layer of awfulness because the character is usually female, and some writers feel like they have to make that character an Evil Woman™. And not to be the pettiest fucking bitch alive, but the dude they’re fighting over isn’t worth it.

In general, I’m not a huge fan of when a writer demonizes another character unfairly, especially when the characters they’re writing about is equally shitty. I’m not saying the character shouldn’t be a bastard; I actively encourage that. Sometimes, a writer's biases show, and it can kinda ruin the fic. I find the FC5 fandom can be kinda egregious about this. For example, I find they can demonize Joseph a bit unfairly, but John, the man who fucking skins people, is a poor soft boy who must be protected. They’re both bastards; just let them be bastards.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

I feel like I walk a fine line with this. If a prompt is too general or too specific, I think I struggle a little bit. I usually find I work best off of Dialogue prompts or action prompts. Most dialogue prompts are pretty general and I feel like I can work them in some way. Although, if someone sends me a prompt, I'm always willing to give it a try.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Collared.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus/Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Malleus’ biggest mistake was treating you as a lover would, rather than as a captor. Unfortunately, his patience is limited, and he can only spend so much time waiting for you to adjust before he resorts to stricter methods.

TW: Graphic Violence, Burning, Mentions Of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Bondage, Use Of Morally-Grey Magic, Emotional Manipulation, and Slight Victim-Blaming.

Your head was beginning to hurt.

It was the pressure, more than anything, the weight of a crown that you’d never wanted to wear, a crown that hadn’t been designed to accommodate someone without horns or wings or enough strength to make the strain bearable. It was a beautiful piece, objectively, a gift from a diplomat hoping to establish a relationship with Malleus shortly after his coronation, but the jewels were heavy, carved into ornate shapes and perched on top of needle-thin peaks, and although you’d been enthralled by the idea of wearing something that looked as delicate as ice, that swirled in impossible ways and curved angles human hands wouldn’t be able to attempt to achieve, the thin base dug into your scalp, and fashion in the Valley of Thorns was so layered, so limiting, the tiara only served as another annoyance you had to bear, another thing to push the air from your lungs and make your vision blur and force you onto the line between discomfort and active agony.

You’d tried to remove it while he met with his advisors, while Malleus spoke and all the attention was on him rather than his disagreeable human companion, but he’d caught you by the wrist the moment you tried, forcing your hand back into your lap before any of his courtiers could notice you’d move. He’d always been particular about the way you presented yourself, in front of him, in front of your subjects. It might’ve been because he took so much pride in doting on you, insisting on dressing you himself every morning and interpreting any refusal as willful disobedience. He might’ve just enjoyed making sure you were as aware of the power he had over you as he was. The latter was more likely, knowing the demeanor he’d taken on after he’d whisked you away to his kingdom, after he’d taken the throne and all the power in the county, with it. That would explain why he felt the need to keep an arm draped over your shoulders, now.

It would explain why he wouldn’t let go, despite your attempts to shake him off.

“They don’t mean you any harm,” He muttered, the voice kept low in order to escape the notice of his guards, trailing after him like ever-present shadows. “No one in this castle wants to see you suffer. You don’t have a reason to act as if they do.”

No one wanted to see you suffer, expect him. Malleus always seemed to forget that, when looking for the source of your irritation. “Everyone here treats me like your consort.”

There was a blink, then another. You could’ve groaned. “But, (Y/n), you are my consort--”

“Not because I want to be.” It was a hollow mantra, something you’d said time and time again. At your side, Malleus grimaced, and you tried to walk a little faster, fixing your eyes on the stone floor to avoid the concerned glances of the guards. “I’m a prisoner here, Malleus. Nothing you try to do will make me less of a prisoner, not when your methods are so…” You trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Not when everything you do is so confining.”

“Everything I do, I do because I care for you,” He explained, taking on that indignant, scolding aire you’d always hated. He was never careless, but he’d never been so richeous, either. Not until he’d gotten an excuse to be. “If you think of yourself as a prisoner, there’s nothing I can do to remedy--”

It was moment of impulse, more of a fleeting idea than a genuine question. You might’ve regretted asking it at all, if something in the back of your head hadn’t started hammering against your skull at the thought of carrying on this conversation. “If I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

There was a slight pause, an alien silence as he stopped moving, his arm falling from your shoulders. “It would destroy me,” He mumbled, by way of excuse. “I don’t know if I’d be able to go on if you--”

“Would I be able to leave?” This time, you tried to be more forceful, more instant, but it came out wrong, brash, frustrated. One of the more devoted members of Malleus’ entourage took half a step towards you, but he was quickly waved off. “Would you let me go, or would you stop me?”

It was his turn to sigh, now. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to pity him. “If it came to that, I wouldn’t have another choice, my love.”

That was all you needed to hear. By now, Malleus’ guards knew better than to stop you, only separating and letting you pass, your pace now fervid and your hand already in your hair, tearing at your crown, working at clasps and combs until the ornament came free and you could hear stone collide with metal, until it hit the floor and shattered, falling apart more suddenly than something so finely made should. “Then I’m a prisoner,” You snapped, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you fled down the hall. “And I don’t see a reason to listen to my captor’s advice.”

He didn’t move to follow you, and for once, you were thankful for his disregard.

At least you’d be able to deal with his scorn from a distance, for the rest of the day.

~

Your wrist was going to be sore, tomorrow.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was your own fault. You’d agitated him, and by bringing up the fact that you didn’t want to be here, that you didn’t love him, you’d made him paranoid, jealous, clingy, in the way a predator might cling to prey it couldn’t bring itself to kill. It must’ve comforted him, to keep a hand pressed against the small of you back or an arm around your waist, a fist wrapped around your forearm and his pointed, painted nails burrowed so far into your skin, you were scared he might draw blood if you tried to pull away. You should’ve been used to it, by now, the possessive way he held you. You’d had more than enough time to learn to tolerate it.

You’d had more than enough time, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

You’d had more than enough time to come to terms with how little you wanted to tolerate it.

To your credit, you didn’t try to tear yourself away from him, not at first. All you did was slow down, tripping over your own feet on the uneven terrain of his courtyard before coming to a stop. You tried to avoid paying too much attention to the scenery whenever Malleus saw fit to take you farther than the castle walls, knowing how little you’d see of the outside world and how easy it was to miss, but you forced yourself to glare down at the weeds forcing themselves through well-worn cobblestone as Malleus glanced towards. It’d be easier if you didn’t meet his eyes. And, when he failed to ask, all you did was voice your thoughts, your tone as neutral as you could manage. “You’re hurting me.”

There was a beat of silence, a quick glance towards your wrist. When he let out a quiet, breathy laugh, you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating. “You should’ve said something,” He chastised, playfully. “It’s easy to forget how fragile humans can be, especially when they’re so rare. Silver would sooner bleed out than let Lilia fret over his injuries, and I can’t say you’re much better.”

And yet, he let you go. If anything, his grip only grew tighter, a pulsing ache soon forming under his palm. “Malleus, that’s nice, but--”

“Silver is considerate, though. If he bites his tongue, it’s only because he knows speaking would be more alarming than keeping quiet. I’m not sure where he picked up the trait, but that’s thoughtful of him, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, only clamping down, watching with a small smile as your free hand shot to his wrist and you struggled not to cry out. Pulling away wasn’t an option, anymore. It was all you could do to keep your fingertips from going numb, let along tug your way out of his iron-clad grip. “I don’t really expect you to understand. You’ve been too unreasonable to see the point in sacrifice, lately.”

“I don’t have anything to sacrifice.” It was true, he wouldn’t have been able to deny that. What little you’d once had, he’d taken away. What you tried to keep to yourself, he pried from your arms without the slightest bit of shame. You knew that, and so did Malleus, somewhere in the back of his twisted, deluded mind. But, judging from the way his eyes narrowed as you went on, he didn’t care for the reminder. “You’re hurting me, is that what you want? Am I just supposed to grit my teeth and let you?”

There was the shortest hesitation, just a moment’s worth of reluctance. He opened his mouth, but you already had your answer. By the time he thought to lie, you were reeling back, digging your heels into the pavement and struggling in vain to wrench yourself away from him. “Let me go!” You didn’t try to keep your voice down. You didn’t care when a passing couple pretended not to stare and the nearest soldiers edged away from their post and Malleus scowled, his patience worn thin enough for his frustration to show. “You’re a monster--”

The air hitched in your throat before you could process why. Malleus hardly moved, but all it took was a click of his tongue and a glare only slightly more malicious than his usual glower and then, something white-hot and burning was searing itself into your skin, little more than a spark of what you knew he was capable of. It only lasted a second, most likely less than that, but the pain didn’t lessen as Malleus released you, allowing you the mercy of drawing your arm back into your chest and cradling your injury. The wound was raw, throbbing every time it made contact with the chilled air, your vision blurring at just the thought of touching it. If you hadn’t known better, you may’ve gone running to a healer out of instinct alone, but you had a feeling Malleus wasn’t in the mood to deal with that kind of defiance.

“Take this as a lesson,” He spat, the warning dripping with a venom you’d never heard from him. “I won’t be this kind, in the future. The burn will heal, but next time you insist I’m so awful, the damage won’t be as temporary. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to nod, earning an unimpressed scoff from Malleus. He accepted your lackluster submission, though, turning away and signaling you to follow with a slight, nonchalant wave. You moved to comply, but you hesitated before you started after him. You couldn’t help it.

You were injured, but he wasn’t holding onto you, anymore. He wasn’t dragging you around like a loyal mutt, forced onto a lead by an optimistic master. You were injured, but it’d worked.

Any amount of pain would’ve been worth it, if you’d finally found a way to get under his skin.

~

He was going to kill you.

You really hadn’t meant to lash out. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he’d startled you, caught you off guard while you were trying to fall asleep in a bed that was too soft and too decorative to appeal to faeries and the sparse, scattered hours they spend asleep. He’d put his hands on you, and you’d panicked. You’d felt his teeth on your neck, and for a moment, you hadn’t been able to think.

You hadn’t meant to, but now there were three thin, ragged scratches running from his cheek his jaw, the bottom-most still bleeding, and Malleus was going to kill you.

You tried to remedy the situation, while you still could. You’d never hurt him before, never affected him in a way left such tangible evidence, and to be honest, part of you still couldn’t believe you’d managed it. Malleus seemed to be stuck in a similar mindset, his lips parting slightly as his hand drifted from your hip to his cheek, tracing the jagged wound. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the contact, but that didn’t matter. Whether there was pain or not, you’d done something to harm him. That wasn’t an offense he was going to forgive easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” You cut yourself off, sitting up before you could say another word, before you could make things worse for yourself. There was a dip in the mattress, a small shift in his posture, but you tried not to linger on the way his shoulder squared as you cupped the unmarried side of his face. “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, you just… I didn’t know what you were doing, and you know I don’t like it when you... I don’t like it when you touch me.”

“You cut me.” He sounded surprised, more shocked than he should’ve been. It made sense, for Malleus. He’d never liked to acknowledge that you could hurt him, let alone the possibility that you’d try to. “You cut me.”

“I-I know,” You tried, settling onto your knees in front of him. Suddenly, you were thankful he’d chosen wait until you were in bed. “But, it’s alright, you just need to--”

This time, he didn’t wait for you to finish. Before you could finish, his fingers were tangled in your hair, the heel of his palm pressed against your forehead. You almost wished their had been some kind of magic word - a spell, an incantation to give you an idea of his intentions. Instead, there was only the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp, a sourceless sense of confusion, and exhaustion. Pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

He didn’t even bother to catch you, as you collapsed.

~

Your throat was on fire, when you woke up.

It was a dry, cracked, excruciating sort of pain, the type that had curling into yourself and clutching at your neck and wondering if you should try to drink something or close your eyes or scream. You might’ve tried to. If you did, though, you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel it, not underneath that blend of acid and rust that seemed to coat your vocal cords. It was all you could to roll onto your side, to try to focus on something, rather than letting your vision blur and fade around the edges every time you thought about straining yourself. But, you’d regret that, too, when the thing lying beside you came into focus.

Or, the person, rather. If you could still call him that.

Malleus was awake, you had to assume he’d always been. Faeries didn’t need sleep, not like a human might, meaning he was conscious and aware and, when he noticed you staring up at him with an expression best described as ‘petrified’, he was able to smile, to smirk, to meet your eyes with all the composure he’d lacked, the last time you’d shared his company. It might’ve been hours ago, it might’ve been days ago, but you had no way of being certain. The black, satin sheets underneath you were still the same ones you’d crumpled onto, under his spell. The hearth on the other side of his bedroom was still lit, but it always was, an eerily green fire left to burn constantly in an effort to fight the pervasive darkness of his homeland. The only thing that might’ve changed was his appearance, his spotless white tunic now unbuttoned, his hair brushed away from his face, and in his hand, he toyed with something. A handle, maybe, a strip of dark strip of leather that, when you thought to check, led back in your direction. Reflexively, you brought a hand to the base of your neck, where the pain was at its worst.

Huh.

You really should’ve seen this coming.

A choker. That’s what it felt like, at least. A circlet of cold, polished metal pulled tight against your skin, made to swirl and branch out in a way that, almost ironically, made you think of the thornbushes Malleus had always been so fond of. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t a buckle, no latch or pin that’d let you remove the contraption without freeing yourself of your head, in the process. You couldn’t see its color or its size, but you were thankful for that. Just imagining the way it must look, a collar and a leash and the pathetic, weakened mortal forced into it…

Quickly, you decided not to linger on the thought, and to concentrate on finding a way out of it, instead.

You held onto your side of the tether, hoping beyond hope that you’d just jumped to the wrong conclusion. “What is this?”

The words came out soft, just bordering on inaudible, but Malleus was close enough to hear. At first, he only hummed, scanning over you idly, evaluating your current state. You must’ve been unconscious for more than a day, at least. Clearly, his rage had time to cool into something much more dangerous than impulsive wrath. “I thought this would be… appropriate.” You hated the way he spoke, with rehearsed inflections and a practiced stiltedness. As if there was a reason to pretend he wasn’t satisfied with his work. “I didn’t have another option. You’ve been acting out so often and… What’s the phrase mortals are so fond of? Biting the hand that pets you?”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” You muttered, absently. The numb realization came first, but the anger was quick to follow. Quick to overwhelm, despite your better judgement. “I’m not a fucking dog--”

As soon as you started to raise your voice, he pulled your cord taut, jerking you forward and causing the metal around your neck to contract, just enough to press into your skin. You didn’t even get a chance to ask what he’d done. It wasn’t just pain, anymore. It wasn’t just a flame being held against your arm, or your thigh, or whatever part of you Malleus decided he loved the least, that day. It was a puncture, an injection, something that forced itself into your body and refused to withdraw. It was something driving itself under your skin and writhing, a parisite curling around your collarbone and biting. Your hands shot back to your collar, clawing at the seamless metal, but as far as you could tell, it hadn’t moved. It hadn’t done anything. There was nothing to fight against, nothing to dig your nails into, no blood or bruise or mark. Just the slightest bit of warmth and Malleus hovering over you, rubbing small, shallow circles into your shoulder and making your lungs tighten in your chest, making it more impossible to breath with every passing second.

It was almost worse when it stopped, when Malleus sighed and dropped your leash and you were able to gasp for air. This time, Malleus was there to catch you, to guide your head against his chest as he cooed sweet, contented nothings. You’d almost forgotten how cruel magic could be, in the wrong hands.

 You’d almost forgotten how sadistic he could be, with the right incentives.

“It’s not that bad, is it? There’s never going to be a wound, but I tried to make sure it would hurt. Just enough to let you see how I feel, every time you find a new way to break my heart.” There was a languid sigh, a shake of his head. You had to lock your jaw into place just to keep from calling him another awful name, just to keep from earning yourself another pull and another minute of whatever method of torture he’d come up with. “I can’t trust you to behave for the sake of your own safety. This was the only way, my love. If I can’t trust you to love me…” There was a brief pause, a light kiss pushed into your temple. Regretful, but not remorseful. Apologetic, but more sorry he chose to imprison someone so stubborn than for the lengths he was willing to go to, if it meant controlling your temper. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but your disappointment would’ve been impossible to ignore.

Although, you didn’t have much time to linger on the feeling as Malleus took up your cord, wrapping it around his fist as he went on.

“You’ll just have to learn to fear me, instead.”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

****************

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Farmer Ted

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Regardless of where the two of you have your first conversation, Ted probably knew of and had a crush on you before you were even aware of his existence.

- He’d probably seen you around school and thought that you were really pretty but just didn’t have the nerve to introduce himself while you were with your friends/around people. But now was his perfect chance. 

- You’d been sitting outside of the school, waiting for somebody, when he’d slinked up to you all dorkily suave. Considering you were somewhat distracted by a book, you probably didn’t realize someone was approaching you until they’d; or rather he’d, sat beside you. 

- Somewhat surprised and curious, you looked up and over at him, meeting his eyes as he gave you a smile. He greeted you, making small talk as you sat together before asking if you “wanted to go out Saturday night”. 

- You found him sort of endearing and cute in a wimpy sort of way so; much to his genuine surprise, you actually said yes. 

- For your first date, the two of you went to the movies. He kept sneaking glances at you throughout the night and held his hand open on the armrest like halfway through the movie, waiting to see if you’d take it; which you probably did. 

- He probably rushes to go tell Bryce and Cliff about everything that happened after the two of you say goodbye. 

- You have your first kiss about a week after your first date. You were sitting together in his bedroom and he’d mentioned how “it may come as a surprise …but you’re the first girl he’s ever gone out with.” before telling you how he really likes you and is wondering if you’ll be his girlfriend. 

- Obviously, you agree and after an almost instantaneous “really?!”, he all but smashes his lips to yours. When the two of you pull away, he shyly apologizes but you just laugh and tell him it’s fine. 

- And there you have it, the geek finally gets the girl. 

- Lots of pda. He wants to show off and flaunt your relationship; particularly because he knows that no one would automatically assume that the two of you are dating whenever you’re together. 

- His arm around your shoulder. It makes him feel like a stud. 

- Handholding. 

- Hugs from behind. He does occasionally give you an actual squeeze but, more often than not, he just wraps his arms loosely around you while the two of you stand together. 

- He loves kisses on the cheek. He always tries his best to play it cool but his heart skips a beat whenever you give him one. 

- Clumsy kisses. You’re probably going to be his first kiss so expect him to be a little bad at it for a while; and possibly scrape you with his braces. 

- Soft kisses. 

- Sitting in his lap. He likes wrapping his arms around you and  looking up at your face or whatever you’re doing in front of him whenever you do. 

- He loves cuddling and enjoys doing it in any way that you can. Spooning? Great! You laying your head on his chest? Even better! Him laying his head on you? Wowza!

- You’ll probably catch him staring at you a lot. He’s just amazed that such a wonderful girl like you is giving him the time of day. 

- He calls you pet names more than your actual name, particularly in front of people because; once again, he likes showing off that you’re a couple. He must have at least a dozen different terms of endearment that he calls you interchangeably. 

- Lame pick up lines. He still tries to flirt with you; even though he’s arguably bad at it. 

- He likes making you laugh at his absurdity, especially if you’re noticeably upset; either with him or at something else. 

- Singing along and lip syncing to the radio together. 

- Dancing with each other. 

- Giving all of his geeky interests a try. 

- Letting him explain floppy disks and computers and all that to you. He’s actually sort of brilliant if we’re being honest here. 

- Pizza dates. 

- Movie dates. I can’t tell you why but I feel like Ted would enjoy watching old movies, movies with like Frank Sinatra in them and all the other golden age of Hollywood stars. 

- Taking walks around the neighborhood together; maybe walking a dog together if you’re interested in that. 

- Going to the park. You usually sit on the swings together and talk whenever you do. 

- Arcade dates.

- County fairs, carnivals, and amusement parks. He likes taking you to those types of things, he thinks they’re really fun.

- Having “his dudes” interrupt and tag along with you guys a lot. He’s quick to tell them to scram but you usually feel kinda bad and just tell them they can stay if they’d like to.

- He definitely tries to get you a bit out of your comfort zone but never minds if you just don’t feel like doing something. The two of you could just be standing and doing nothing and he’d be completely fine with it purely because he’s with you.

- He said it himself: he’s a total pushover for pretty girls. You can convince him to do pretty much anything because he’s too twerked up to say no.

- Doing his makeup. Did you see his lid space? The clean close shave? He’d probably outright refuse at first but he’d give in easy enough and you’d get to make him gorgeous.

- He loves the smell of your perfume. He’ll never admit it but he sprays himself with it before he leaves your house so that he can smell like you for the rest of the night. It’s comforting to him.

- He definitely messes around with your stuffed animals whenever he’s bored, you’re not paying attention to him, or just to make you smile.

- Making you laugh is one of his main missions in life. He loves hearing the sound; even if it’s at his expense. 

- Helping him clean up the messes he makes when he’s a total klutz, or just silently helping him when he’s awkwardly and cluelessly fumbling with something. 

- Standing up for him; especially if you’re higher on the social hierarchy.  

- Walking to class together. 

- Sitting with him at lunch; even though it’s sort of social suicide. You get a lot of stares and weird interactions from the other geeks but Bryce and Cliff have gotten used to you and have become pretty good friends of yours. 

- Him carrying your things, or you; he’s surprisingly strong for such a little guy. 

- You’re like 90% of his impulse control and one of the only reasons he’s still alive. You keep him in check because he desperately needs it sometimes.

- Sharing secrets. 

- Having earnest conversations. Most of the time, he feels like he needs to put up a front to seem cool but the longer you're together, the more he realizes you like him for him and that he can just be himself. 

- He can act like a bit of a jerk sometimes but he does genuinely care about your feelings and is actually pretty good at making you feel better when you’re feeling down. 

- He’s definitely pretty jealous. You hang out with him and a bunch of geeks who are constantly ogling and trying to get close to you. Not to mention the fact that you’re really pretty and could bag a boy who’s much higher on the social ladder than he is. 

- He’s not overprotective of you but he does care enough about you to put his weeny ass on the line. He may not be the most helpful in a dangerous/scary situation but he’s fully ready to get his ass kicked to defend you; he’s gotten it bruised for less than that. 

- You don’t fight a lot but the two of you do get into a few good arguments and fights. You’ll argue for a while until you move to just leave, he’ll stop you and calm his tone down while trying to reason with you and explain his point of view. He has a habit of saying the wrong thing or doing things without thinking so that may be part of the reason you’re moving to leave. 

- He is genuinely sorry whenever he’s blatantly messed up but he’ll usually apologize for his attitude regardless of who’s in the wrong and say “but you have to admit x” and you will have to admit it no matter how stubborn you are. 

- He likes when you tell him that you love him but he’s a bit too shy to say it back in fear of messing up his “stud persona”. He’ll usually just give you a kiss and tell you he loves you when you’re alone. 

- You’re his first love so he has that naive, “we’re gonna last forever” mindset; even though he doesn’t talk about it all that much. That’s not to say that you won’t though, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life together. 

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O'Brien - NME Magazine Interview

Dylan O’Brien: “I was in this transitional phase – close to a quarter-life crisis”

From YA heartthrob to legitimate leading man – how the 'Maze Runner' star hit his stride after a whirlwind decade

Definitely!” hoots Dylan O’Brien when NME asks if he still has to audition. “I’m not Tom fucking Hanks, bro.” He’s clearly amused by our question, but forgive us for thinking the 29-year-old actor gets cast on reputation alone. A decade into his career, and he’s making an impressive transition from teen TV star and YA franchise hero to charismatic leading man.

New York-born O’Brien cut his teeth on MTV’s hit Teen Wolf series, before landing the lead in the Maze Runner film trilogy based on James Dashner’s hugely popular novels. Leading a band of bright young things that included ex-Skins tearaway Kaya Scodelario, Game Of Thrones’ Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Will Poulter, he honed his craft while racking up nearly a billion dollars at the box office. “My career is a constant acting class,” says O’Brien. “To be able to do the Maze Runner movies simultaneously with Teen Wolf was amazing in terms of getting in reps and working my [acting] muscle.”

Now for the sometimes tricky bit. Many actors struggle with the post-breakout period, but O’Brien is making it look easy so far. This year’s Netflix hit Love and Monsters proved he can carry an old-school family adventure, and new film Flashback (out next week) reveals an appetite for weirder, more cerebral work. He stars as Fred Fitzell, a young man reluctant to buckle down to life as a nine-to-fiver with a boring corporate job and a long-term girlfriend (Mindhunter‘s Hannah Gross). When he runs into a freaky-looking acquaintance from his teenage years, Fred becomes obsessed with finding an old high-school friend he used to drop a mind-bending experimental drug called Mercury with. It’s difficult to say any more without entering spoiler territory, but Flashback is a wild ride underpinned by the idea that we can exist in several realities at once. Even if you follow every plot twist, you might not fully understand the end. “Oh, it’s definitely a headfuck,” O’Brien agrees. “There’s not totally an answer to figure out. There’s a lot of different things that people can take from it.”

Speaking over Zoom from his LA home, O’Brien is bright, thoughtful and really good fun to talk to, especially when he relaxes into the interview, but he clearly knows where his line between public and private lies. When he first read the Flashback script, written by the film’s director Christopher MacBride, his “mind was blown” by just how much he related to Fred. “I felt like I was in this transitional phase of my life that was, you know, sort of close to a quarter-life crisis type thing,” he says. “For whatever reason, it was like me and this script were meant to be. I remember reading it and thinking: ‘I am this guy right now.'”

“There were a lot of things in my personal life that were neglected for a while”

When we ask why O’Brien felt as though he had reached a “transitional phase”, he gives an answer that’s vague but not exactly evasive. For understandable reasons, he doesn’t mention the incredibly traumatic motorcycle accident he sustained while shooting the final Maze Runner film in March 2016. O’Brien suffered severe trauma to the brain and said in 2017 that he underwent extensive facial reconstructive surgery after the accident “broke most of the right side of my face”. Tellingly, he’s never really revealed what happened on set or how it affected him.

Today, O’Brien dances around the details of the accident and other issues he was dealing with at the time, but doesn’t shy away from discussing his inner conflict. “You know, it was a lot of personal things combined with at-a-point-in-my-career things,” he says after a brief pause. He says he’d have been going through some of this stuff anyway, simply because of his age, but it sounds as though success intensified it all. “It was like this whole fucking storm of shit,” he continues. “I was simultaneously so fulfilled and happy about these, like, otherworldly and surreal things that I had experienced in terms of where my career had brought me. I had all this confidence and fulfilment and beautiful people [in my life] – such amazing things to experience at a young age. But at the same time, there were a lot of things in my personal life that were unchecked and sort of neglected for a while.”

O’Brien says that in time, he realised he had to “stop for a second” and “re-explore how I wanted my life to look going forward”. In fairness, you can see why he needed a breather: his career took off while he was still a teenager. After his family moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles County when he was 12, O’Brien contemplated a career as a sports broadcaster – his Twitter bio still bills him as a “no longer suffering Mets fan” – then began posting YouTube videos as moviekidd826. A funny, slickly edited skit titled ‘How to Prepare for the SAT in 45 seconds’, shared when he was just 17, shows he was a born performer and storyteller. YouTube success led to him getting a manager, but his breakthrough role in Teen Wolf still came out of the blue. At the time, he was treading water at a local community college and taking auditions on the side.

Still, he has since taken a rather fatalistic view of this career-making moment. “It’s totally weird because, when I think about it now, I don’t see how it could have happened any other way. I can’t picture myself doing anything else now,” he told Collider in 2011. “It was really sudden and a little random, and not provoked by anything. It was just out of nowhere. It wasn’t my intentional doing.” Today, O’Brien summarises his skyscraper career trajectory succinctly. “I guess I just graduated high school and started acting,” he says. “And then I felt like I was just flying by the seat of my pants and never got a chance to stop.” Thankfully, straight-out-the-blocks Hollywood success hasn’t taken away his sense of perspective. When I say how easy social media makes it to compare yourself unfavourably to others, O’Brien jumps in: “Yeah, that’s very true. I was watching the Billie Eilish doc the other day, and I was like, I’ve done nothing. I’m not an artist at all!”

“No one thought ‘Love and Monsters’ was going to be good!”

O’Brien is also self-deprecating when he talks about being cast in Flashback, suggesting it happened because he had such an intense connection with Fred. “I was honestly like, ‘Who is watching me right now?’ That is the best way I can describe how I was feeling when I came across this script,” he says. “Chris [MacBride, director] and I had this conversation that went so well in terms of [my] understanding this script that I think he’d sent around a lot and [that] very commonly wasn’t understood. I think Chris has even said that the night before shooting, he suddenly had this thought, like, ‘Wait, do I even think he’s a good actor?'”

Though O’Brien has firmly ring-fenced elements of his private life, he’s actually pretty frank about his acting vehicles. He readily admits he was expecting a snobbish response to Love and Monsters, a CGI-heavy hybrid of post-apocalyptic action and romcom that dropped on Netflix in April and topped the streamer’s daily most-watched list. “It means so much that Love and Monsters has gotten the response that it’s gotten,” O’Brien says. “No one thought this movie was going to be good.” His blunt honesty makes me laugh out loud. “No one did though!” he says in response. “And so, fuck that. You know, most of the people who say something to me about the movie, they’re like: ‘I watched Love and Monsters, and it was… good?’ And honestly, that just cracks me up.” For obvious reasons, we hastily decide not to share our response to the film – namely, that it was a whole lot better than expected.

In Love and Monsters, O’Brien plays Joel, a survivor of a so-called “monsterpocalypse” that has bumped humans to the bottom of the food chain. Though he’s known in his colony as a bit of a coward, Joel sets off on a treacherous 80-mile journey to find his high school sweetheart Aimee (Iron Fist‘s Jessica Henwick), which means evading the hungry clutches of various supersize grizzlies including a giant monster-frog hiding in a suburban pond. It’s a simple but pretty out-there premise that wouldn’t work if O’Brien’s performance was even slightly condescending. Instead, his unselfconscious sincerity really sells a film that has as much in common with the family-oriented Robin Williams movie Night at the Museum as darker fare like The Walking Dead.

His obvious affection for the project really comes across during our interview today. “When I read the script, I just thought it was so sweet and funny and smart and unique, but at the same time reminiscent of all these movies that don’t really get made any more,” he says. That’s a fair point: Love and Monsters is neither a fail-safe superhero movie nor a slice of classy Oscar bait. “And when they were talking about how to market this movie, it was so funny hearing all these conversations like, ‘How do we actually get people to watch it?'” he adds. “But that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to do this movie: because it felt like something I missed seeing.”

“I’m lucky to be surrounded by people who want to make something out of love”

So in a way, Love and Monsters was a risk for an actor seeking to establish himself outside of a bankable movie franchise and a hit TV show. O’Brien has only made four films since his final Maze Runner outing in 2018, and insists he hasn’t been tactical with his choices. “I don’t have anyone saying, ‘We need to get you in an Oscar vehicle’, or any of that kind of shit,” he says. “I’m really lucky to be surrounded by people who think like me: that you should do what you’re drawn to, and make something out of love.”

He’s recently finished shooting a mysterious crime thriller called The Outfit in London with Mark Rylance. Directed and co-written by Graham Moore, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game, O’Brien calls it “quite possibly one of the most special pieces of writing I’ve ever experienced”. He first read the script on a plane and says he “actually stood up and clapped” when he got to the end. Considering O’Brien probably wasn’t flying Ryanair, this reaction presumably attracted a few baffled glances.

Anyway, it must be pretty intimidating walking onto set with Rylance, a multi-award-winning actor revered by his peers – Al Pacino once said he “speaks Shakespeare as if it was written for him the night before” – but it sounds as though O’Brien took it all in stride. He says he’s confident in his abilities, but admits to having a slight wobble whenever he begins a new project. “I’m always sort of re-questioning everything – like, ‘Can I even act?'” he says. “But I think there’s something very natural about that. I think even Rylance could relate to that feeling. Acting is like starting a new year at school every single time.”

At this point in his career, O’Brien has made peace with the fact that some people will have preconceptions about him based on what he’s known for: Maze Runner and Teen Wolf. “People will put you in a box no matter what,” he says. “There was definitely a time when that would get to me, especially when it felt like somebody had a perspective on me that in my soul, I just felt wasn’t accurate.” Still, there’s no doubt he wants to show us what’s really in his soul with more films like Flashback. “If anything,” he adds bullishly, “it just makes me think: ‘Right, I’m really gonna show them now’.”

‘Flashback’ is out on digital platforms from June 4