#they got allen wrenches

[five-crows-in-a-trenchcoat]

sure, you may be going to college. but me? im going imma going imma going to the going to the hardware going really going imma going imma going to the hard oh yes im going to the hardwareee storeeeeeee

[ryuseitai]

whatever shall i do with the rest of my day today

[dilfsuzanneyk]

i just woke up from a short nap and i dreamt i got stuck in a church of some kind and the priest wouldn't let me out unless i recited the entire fast part in hardware store

[postmanlinksbootyshorts]

my sewing machine is not timed correctly so i haven't been able to test it out yet ://// on the plus side im a pro @ threading it tho

[fantabulisticity]

I broke FOUR fingernails and cracked my phone's screen protector today. That's gotta be a personal record or something.

[punkitt-is-here]

im so sorry i had to reread ur post 3 times before i realized that you werent dressed as homestuck weird al in the drawing

i am haunted by the spectre of homestuck at all times. I did actually almost consider going as weird al for halloween, though. My hair is almost the same as his and it'd be a pretty easy low-effort costume. Might look into it in the future since I've been playing Hardware Store on loop like crazy.

[llycaons]

the reason I rolled a stupidly large and heavy package for 15-20 minutes on uncertain terrain with a shopping cart im flummoxed is still holding together was because my stinginess rears its head for the most random things and I categorically refuse to pay someone to drive me less than a mile even if it would make my life much much easier

[rejectpile]

aaaaaaaaaaAaaaaabcddddddddeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefgghhhhhhhhhIiikllllllllmmmmmmMmmnnnnoooooooooooopprrrrrrRrrrSsssssssssttTttttttttuuuuuvwyyy’’?:,;

POEM by IKEA

[bookshelf-dust]

promise to take care of my heart

carmy berzatto x fem!reader

gif by @emziess

word count: 1,830

warnings: nothing? a little swearing, but this is pure fluff and that’s all

synopsis: carmy wants to cuddle with you for the first time.

a/n: hi! new character, i know. but i’ve become rather attached to carm in the past few months and i had a cute idea for him and here we are. he’s bringing me so much comfort right now and now i’m gonna share that with you <333

————

“Why don’t you pick out a movie or somethin,’ bub?” 

“If I could find your damn remote, Carm, I would.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes on his hands where they sit deep in the dishwater below. Good luck, he thinks. 

You scan the coffee table, the rug below the shabby couch. It’s not like there’s any use checking the tv stand because it’s still a fucking table tray. You know he doesn’t even own the full set of four table trays? He’s just got the one? That knowledge keeps you up at night. Just like how he doesn’t have a ceiling fan pull and has to get tweezers to change the speed.

You find the remote nestled in a stack of freshly organized books. You helped Carmen assemble a very simple bookshelf so that his stash of cookbooks wouldn’t have to live on the floor anymore. 

Just getting to help him turn his apartment into something other than a place to sleep brought you a contagious giddiness. Carmen’s chest aches with how much he’s laughed since he met you. 

Look at all my muscles, Carm. I’m practically ready for my dick now, don’t you think? 

Where’d you even get these? He’d looked down at the little allen wrench in your hand and said I don’t know, they were just here one day. 

Now you have a bookshelf, Bear. What a grown up. 

Carmen wouldn’t let you help him with the dishes after he cooked you dinner. He’d just kissed your shoulder and said, “Let me take care of it, alright?” with that little raise of his brows and quirk of his lips telling you not to argue because you’d never win. 

And when Carmen tells you to let him take care of something, well…you listen. 

You haven’t been dating very long, but it’s been enough that you’ve both developed this rhythm, this way of moving around and with each other and you just…work. 

He doesn’t understand how you can dial his shyness, his hesitance, so quickly, how you can make him feel like a human again so easily. But you do. 

You settle against the back of the couch, flipping through the tv guide (because Carm has never subscribed to any streaming services) until you find something worth listening to. It’s already a few minutes in, but you’ve seen the movie enough times that it doesn’t really matter. 

The overhead light in the kitchen switches off and Carmen pads out to the living room, socked feet dragging on the hardwoods. Your biggest pet peeve is people who don’t pick up their feet, but somehow it’s more tolerable when it’s him. 

He sits down on the edge of the couch. Just sits. On the edge. That means he wants to say something. You give him the time to psych himself up. 

Carmy chews on his thumb nail and rubs his nose before he turns to you, placing his hand on the couch. His blue eyes burn into yours, and the intensity of his gaze, trained on you, makes you feel like the most important person in the world. 

“H-hey, um…can we—could we snuggle, maybe?” He flushes at the fact that he just used the world snuggle. Richie would have his ass so quick if he’d heard him say that. 

Your grin is brilliant. You’ve never cuddled properly with Carmen before. Maybe a head on a shoulder or a leg tossed across another, but never a real cuddle session. “Fuck yeah, we can, Carm.” You giggle and the sound softens that bubble of fear in his chest. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, letting out the barest laugh. 

“How did you want t-to lay, Bear?” You blink at him. “Were you just gonna—” 

He starts to nod. “I was just gonna lay on your chest, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Y-yeah.”

You snort. “Lemme’ stretch out for you and then you can be a teddy bear.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Carmen shakes his head at you. He lets you pull that shit because he likes it. Secretly.

When you have a pillow under your neck and are laid out on your back, Carm slips beside you against the back of the couch and clumsily settles on top of you. He doesn’t want to crush you or anything, so he settles between your legs, only allowing the weight of his torso to envelop you. 

One arm wraps around your back, the other cradling your hip, his curls brushing your chin. He turns his head to face the tv and lets out a satisfied sigh. 

On instinct your hand threads through his tangled hair, scratching at his scalp gently and sorting through any piece that feels knotted. 

“What is this?” Carmy asks, nodding in the direction of the screen. 

“The Wedding Planner. It has Jlo and Matthew McConaughey in it.” 

“Chick flick?”

You hum in agreeance. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t hate it. Jlo’s character is like you but if the restaurant was a wedding planning business and you were, you know, a chick.”

He laughs lightly against your stomach and you can feel the puff of air over your shirt. 

The weight of Carmen’s body on top of yours is easily the most calming feeling you’ve ever experienced. You can’t get enough of him. 

“This okay?” you ask, scratching his scalp a little more for emphasis. This is a new way of showing affection. Uncharted territory. 

“Hm?” He looks up at you briefly, blue eyes fluttering closed. “Oh yeah, feels nice. I like it.”

You grin and continue to play with his hair. He’s right. It does feel nice. It is. 

The next few minutes go by without any conversation, just silence. But it’s so comfortable. Carmen’s tired gaze is on the tv. You can feel him breathing, feel the way he scratches over your back absently. You don’t know if he’s aware he does it, but he nuzzles his nose against the soft of your stomach every now and then like it’s keeping him safe. 

“You know I thought about being a wedding planner?”

Carmy pushes up onto his elbows, looking at you with the smallest smirk playing on his lips. “Really?”

You playfully bat at his shoulder and he moves to lay back down, but not before pressing a kiss to your sternum over your shirt. “Mhm. Still think about it sometimes.” You pause, but Carm doesn’t say anything yet because he knows you aren’t finished with that thought. 

“I guess I just thought it’d be nice to help put things like that together? The organization would make me feel…complete, I guess. And you know I don’t like to help people in such an extroverted way? I like to be behind the scenes.” You laugh, a little self-deprecatingly. “Does that make sense?”

Carmen squeezes your side. “‘Course it does. And then you could come home and tell me stories about all the family drama you eavesdrop on.”

You giggle, and Carmy loves that he can feel it where he lays on your chest. He can feel your joy, and that’s fucking cool. “That I could.”

He rubs your back in small, gentle circles. “And you know, I happen to have some friends who make pretty good food and would be happy to help if you ever needed.”

“Oh, do you? Well, that’s very helpful, Mr. Berzatto. You’ll have to give me their number.”

Carmy laughs into your chest. A pure, genuine laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound, and you truly think you’d have it tattooed all over your body if that was even remotely possible. His glee makes you laugh, and then you’re both snickering like you’re teenagers doing something that’ll get you in big trouble. 

You reach for his hand, the one that’s resting on your hip now, and he lets you lift it towards your face. He bites his cheek, fighting the smile that rises when you press your warm and chapstick covered lips to his knuckles. 

“You have such pretty hands, Carmy.”

He pinches your back. “I still don’t get why you’re so fascinated by them.”

“Because they’re pretty. And, look—” You hold yours up to his. “—they’re so much bigger than mine. And I like your tattoos, obviously. I like that I know how talented you are with your hands and how capable. I’m very lucky to hold such capable hands, Bear.”

“Capable, huh?” He gives you a look, one that makes you want to both tackle him and smack him on the arm. Instead you roll your eyes and he raises up to kiss you. 

“Capable of being the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”

Carmy laughs. It’s that little chuckle, light and airy and like he can’t believe what he’s hearing but he wants to hear more anyway. He flops back down on your chest, making you let out a rather loud oomph. 

You take Carmen’s hand in yours again, rubbing over the dry patches on his knuckles, the scabs on the insides of his fingers, the scar on his palm. His whole life is written in these hands. 

You start massaging the pads of his fingers without even thinking about it. No one’s ever been that gentle with him—definitely not with his hands—and a little part of him melts at the feeling. 

You kiss the tattoo on the back of his hand and just look at his skin. You’re determined to memorize each line and freckle and fucked up cuticle he’s got. 

“At least your nails don’t look like Richie’s, Carm.”

His chest moves with the giggle that travels throughout his body. 

“Trust me, they didn’t look like that when he was still with Tiff.”

You grin, your eyes falling back on the television. Maybe Carm would be open to setting it on the bookshelf? That table tray has put in a lot of work. It deserves a break. 

Carmen can see why you’re so fond of this movie. It’s one of those that doesn’t require much thought, that has humor and feels more human than most. He knows he shouldn’t think it, but you having said what you said before makes him wonder if you’ll plan your own wedding…with him. 

Shut the fuck up, he tells himself. But maybe we’ll get there. 

You catch him smiling when they fuck up the statue in the garden and pretend not to notice. You both keep quiet now, but Carm reaches up and puts your hand back on his head.

Your fingers thread through his curls again, scratching at his scalp gently. Your other hand does the same thing to his back. You know it’s going to lull him to sleep. 

When you say it, he’s already dozed off. But you are so happy that you get to make him feel safe. That he’s comfortable enough to sleep on you like this. Lucky is an understatement. 

“Thank you for letting me in, Bear. I don’t think my life has ever been this beautiful.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[mikkomacko]

Jersey Leeds: Little Dev

Previous

Summary: Part of the Jersey Leeds storyline; reader takes baby Jersey to her dads first game of the new season

Warnings: none

~

“Neeks you don’t have to do that.”

He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he continues to twist the Allen wrench, shaking his head softly. His hair hangs over his forehead, concealing most of his gaze but under the tips of the dark strands you can see his dimples sink into his cheeks.

“Been sitting over here too long,” he calls back “need to get it out of the way. And tire myself out for my nap.”

Accepting his answer, you turn back to the counter to finish Nico’s pregame snack. The new house in Jersey was slowly coming together, slower than either of you expected but life’s sort of been like that lately. The playoff birth of Jersey and then the team’s quick exit in Carolina, followed by a flight to Switzerland with a newborn was hectic. You made it work though, at least while Nico was competing at worlds but both of you were almost thankful for the loss.

Being parents was hard. Being parents while moving, hockey-ing, and not sleeping was even harder. Luckily the summer calmed down and Nico had more time with you and Jersey, showing her around Bern and introducing her to her Swiss family. He had a lot of things to be proud of that month, but none of it sparkled in his eyes like sharing his life with his daughter did.

You think of that look on his face as Jersey begins to fuss from her play mat, the borderline cries already making your temple throb. Plating Nico’s two peanut butter and banana sandwiches, you dust your hands off on your pants before moving into the living room.

Nico is still sitting on the living room floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he attaches the final leg to the new coffee table, but his eyes are watching Jersey intently. Her little arms and legs wiggle, kicking and reaching upwards as she softly cries.

“I could’ve got her babe,” Nico says as you walk over, his fingers wrapping around the leg he just attached and wiggling it. “She’s just right there.”

Satisfied with his work, Nico flips the table over so it’s standing over his lap. Jersey is still fussing, angry little hiccups as she waves her fists in the air and you can’t help but laugh quietly as you bend down to scoop her up.

“It’s ok,” you reply, dabbing the sleeves of your sweater over her wet cheeks. Big brown eyes peer up at you, framed by the same impossibly thick, dark eyelashes Nico has. “I was done anyway.”

Testing his handiwork again, Nico presses his palms into the top of the table and lays all his weight on it as he gets up. You hold your breath, waiting for the screws and legs to give out and your husband to go tumbling to the living room floor.

But the table is solid and sturdy. Nico smirks proudly, rapping his knuckles on the wood before turning to you. “1 down,” he sighs “a lot more to go.” You shake your head as he eyes the rest of the boxed furniture scattered around the room.

“Do it later, you need to eat.”

Nico’s hands find your hips, holding you gently as he buts his head into yours to look down at his daughter. “Let me see my baby.” He requests instead, and the sound of his voice has Jersey kicking her legs in excitement. Her tiny mouth stretches into a toothless smile, pink tongue flopping out against her chin.

Laughing, Nico sticks his tongue out just the same, right hand coming up to tickle at her cheeks. You give them their moment, your heart warming at the weird but affectionate encounter. You’re unsure of how it came about, how Jersey picked up the habit but one day you had come home from a girls day with Nico’s family to find them sticking their tongues out at each other for entertainment. It’s since become their thing and Nico will take any chance he can get to see Jersey do it.

Nico pecks a kiss to her forehead before straightening out, pressing a similar kiss to your forehead as well.

“All right, snack time for my babies.” You instruct, pressing your palm into Nico’s stomach to nudge him towards the kitchen. He follows compliantly, moving into the kitchen and digging through the cabinets for something. You fetch a bottle out of the fridge, popping it into the warmer as Nico finds the container of honey he was looking for.

Smiling, he holds it out towards you.

“What?” You laugh, adjusting Jersey on your hip.

His voice drips with sweetness when he asks, “Will you put it on my sandwich for me?” It’s an odd request considering your currently holding a baby and attempting to get her meal ready but Nico’s already reaching out for his daughter with his free hand so you obediently switch him.

“You’re being weird,” you comment, popping open the container as you peer up at your husband through your lashes. He’s mumbling sweet nothings under his breath, nose pressed into Jersey’s temple because he likes the smell of her baby wash.

If your words bothered him, it doesn’t show. “I like the way you do it.” He explains simply, turning to grab Jersey’s now warm bottle. Going back to work on his snack, you drizzle honey across the banana slices before putting them back together and quickly slicing each sandwich into two. Nico fishes out Jersey's bottle, not sparing you a glance as he plops down at the dining room table. Plate in hand, you watch him settle Jersey into the crook of his arm, her little body so small against his bicep and forearm.

He coaxes the nipple of the bottle into her mouth, waiting a moment for her to latch before shooting you an expectant look, eyebrow raised and unimpressed.

"My bad," you laugh, "I didn't realize I had two babies to feed."

Settling into the chair next to him, you set his plate in front of him. Which was apparently not the right thing to do because Nico sighs, still eyeballing you incredulously. You roll your eyes, annoyed but so utterly in love with the man in front of you that you can't help but smile as you pick up a half of a sandwich, lifting it to his awaiting mouth.

It makes you laugh, him munching on the snack with honey smeared on his lips, bobbing his head to entertain Jersey while she eats. She watches him with curious eyes, blinking sluggishly. By the time you've finished feeding Nico, she's finished most of her bottle and is sinking further into Nico's arm as sleep pulls her under. He slip the bottle from her, and you take that and the empty plate to the sink while Nico props her up on his shoulder to be burped.

"All right," you sigh after cleaning everything up, "nap time for you two." Nico smiles lazily as you lead him and Jersey down the hall with a tender hand on his lower back. Jersey has already begun to drool into his chest, and he's careful to lay her in the middle of your king size mattress.

You stay long enough to watch him crawl into bed and take the time to tuck him in under a throw blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He attempts to lift Jersey onto his chest, wincing when she wakes up with an annoyed screech, but she's soon settling into the softness of his abdomen. Nico coaxes another kiss out of you, sleepy eyes all soft and warm as you leave him and Jersey to nap while you get everything together for dinner later tonight.

~~~~~

The Rock makes you emotional, not only because the last time you stepped foot in the arena you welcomed your baby girl into the world, but because of how much this night means to Nico.

Impatiently waiting for warm-ups to start, you adjust the crocheted ice skate slippers on Jersey’s feet, making sure her ankles are covered. Then you tug down the sleeves of her little jersey, smoothing a finger over the tiny C patch Nico had custom made for it. The sweater had been a gift from the organization, handed to Nico in a little bag before there first game of round two last season. He almost blubbered over the thing when he presented it to you at home, choking back tears as he babbled about the name daddy on it and his number and how it was just like that baby shirt he loves but better.

Knowing how much he loved the jersey, you’d elected to save it for her first game in person. One where he could actually see her in it. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you at the glass.

Jersey wiggles away when you adjust the headphones over her ears, making sure they’re not on too tightly but aren’t slipping off. You’d spent all summer working on them for her, acquiring cute little stickers to put her name on one side and a 13 on the other. But the real kicker had been getting the two little devil horns on top. It took a lot of different emails and calls, even some instagram messaging to find someone who could make them. And even though Nico laughed and teased you about it, you were glad with the outcome.

Jersey looked adorable and passionate, all things the captain’s daughter should be.

She’s kicking her feet at you in annoyance when the first horn goes off and the players start trickling onto the ice. Almost leaping out of your skin, you press up close to the glass, turning Jersey so her back is to your chest and she can look onto the ice.

Almost immediately her little legs start wiggling, big brown eyes watching red jerseys fly by and you laugh, believing that she’s trying to skate with them in her mind.

You know Nico has his warm up routine so you’re not expecting him to bang on the glass as soon as he does. Not that you need the little taps of his stick to know he’s there. Jersey recognizes him immediately, her hands reaching out as she coos excitedly.

Looking up from Jersey’s smiling face, you’re stunned by the look of utter joy on Nico’s face. His eyes crinkled, smile so wide you think it might fall off the sides of his face if it weren’t for dimples keeping it in place. He’s waving at Jersey, hitting his gloved knuckles to the glass.

You nudge Jersey closer, allowing her to press her own hands into Nico’s as she screeches excitedly. Out of the corner of your eye a phone slips into view, capturing the precious moment for you two. You make a mental note to ask the social media admin for the video later, turning a bit so the camera has a better view.

Nico looks up at you, that beautiful smile of his shining. “That’s my baby,” he shouts excitedly, voice muffled by the glass but loud enough to make you laugh. You nod in agreement, picking up Jersey’s arm so you can help her wave to him.

His gaze returns to her, waving once more before he sticks his tongue out. Like routine, Jersey does it back, giggling and bouncing in your arms at her daddy. You can hear him laugh, the sound so full of delight it makes your whole body flush with love.

They’re interaction draws in Jack and Bratter, both boys squishing Nico between them as they stop to say hi. You can’t make out what they’re saying to each other as they wave and tap at Jersey but Bratt motions to Jersey’s headphones before shooting you a thumbs up. You laugh, shrugging in thanks before he’s off to finish warm-ups. Dougie takes his place, shoving Jack back so he can lightly jump into the glass.

Jersey jumps in shock, staring at the large man in stunned silence for just a moment. You since, waiting for her to burst into tears and you can already see Nico about to scold his teammate. But then Jersey is laughing gleefully, those bubbly baby giggles making everyone breathe out a sigh of relief.

You linger a little longer, letting all the boys stop by the stay hi and admire they’re little captain. They’re all enamored with her, eyes going soft just as they did the moment they all met her in the hospital. She has always had this team in the palm of her hand, most of all her daddy who has spent all of warm-ups watching her. He chats with whoever filters in to see her, blushing and smiling when they tap him on the helmet with their sticks.

The time comes to head to your seats, even if Nico is trying to get you to stay by making faces and wiggling his fingers through the glass. You know he’ll never actually warm-up if you don’t leave first so you give him your best demanding wife look.

“Say bye to daddy,” you tell Jersey, making her wave one more time. Then you’re tucking her into your chest and holding your knuckles to the glass. Nico does the same, winking at you just once before he slowly skates backwards.

You blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it and place it over his heart. Finally he joins the team to get some practice shots in, you moving away from the glass where you can still see him but not be a distraction.

For just a moment you admire him, let yourself adore him for all he is. A good person, a talented player, a strong leader, a brave role model, a loving husband, and the best father a child could ever have.

Jersey’s cry of annoyance drags you back into the moment, peering down to see her mouthing at your shoulder as tears well in her eyes. Her father's eyes.

"I know baby," you murmur, "let's go feed you. We'll see daddy again in a bit." You head back through the tunnel towards the family room so you can pick up the baby bag.

"He's gonna win you a game tonight." You promise Jersey, "and if he doesn't, he'll definitely play his heart out for you."

If there's one thing you could be certain about, it's that Nico will always give his all for his babygirl.

[unnonexistence]

friendship ended with phillips-head screw. now robertson-head screw is my best friend.

really fun to be able to put "drill holes in wall" on your to do list sincerely

[megamindsecretlair]

Hiii so ik Halloween is coming up! So I wanna know if you could do another jack the reacher fic! (Love that man) Basically y/n spend every single day with your bf except for Halloween. Y/n has been with him for 2 years now and it’s kinda getting old. So ofc this year like always he tells y/n to stay away from him on Halloween. He’ll suggest visiting your parents or hanging with friends at party just something to keep her busy until his little spell is over. Though what y/n doesn’t know is every Halloween he turns into a werewolf, demon, orc…. (Anything you want! Your choice of monster!) He definitely doesn’t want his precious gf to see that! He just can’t control anything while he’s in that mode and he definitely doesn’t want to be near y/n while this happens. He doesn’t wanna hurt or. ….break her. Buttttt y/n doesn’t listen and goes to see him anyways, she acts like she’s leaving when in reality we stayed just to see what goes on. At first the speculation was cheating…ofc our loving bf wouldn’t do that to us right..?? So the reader sneakily finally finds out what her boyfriend is hiding and BOY IS SHE IN FOR QUITE THE RIDE! *I have a cnc kink and manhandling kink, and I would love for the reader to just be bratty in general! Cause as you can see we don’t listen! 🤭 He should definitely put reader in a full nelson….sigh me and my delusions

Ps. Can the reader be black! And plus size thank you!

General Note: I do not, have not, and will never write non-con.

Pairing: Werewolf!Jack Reacher x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. PWP, PIV, Cursing, SMUT, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, cum play, primal play, bratty reader, Sorry if I missed others. No spoilers for the show.

Summary: See Ask. With the exception of non-con. Halloween happened to be your favorite holiday and you wanted nothing more than to spend it with your sweet boyfriend, Reacher. However, Reacher had other plans that didn’t involve you. Upset with your plans ruined, you decided to disobey his strict order to stay at your parents’ house. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, you only knew that you wanted answers. Patience was never your strong suit.

AO3 Link

Word count: 5,847k

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive!! LOL.I have no excuses for myself other than WHEW!!! This broke me. I need to go hose myself down. Happy Halloween-Eve everyone! Enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Something was wrong with your boyfriend. 

You eyed him as he grew more antsy during the week leading up to Halloween, only your favorite time of the year. You loved the costumes, the makeup, the scares, and thrills. It spoke to your soul in a way no other holiday did.

Similar to last year, Reacher grew more agitated. Little things pissed him off. When he wasn’t working a case for the Army’s Military Police, he walked around like a bear with a thorn in his paw. 

He was never mean to you. Never snapped. Never treated you as anything other than his adorable girlfriend. Even now, on the actual holiday, he was putting together a bookshelf for you because your old one broke from all of the books you had. 

You sat on the floor beside him, handing him different screws and allen wrenches whenever he asked. You loved days like these. Loved seeing him domesticated. 

“I was thinking you might go with your parents again today,” Reacher said, unprompted. 

You blinked your eyes at him and tilted your head. “For…Halloween? Again?” You asked. 

“Yeah. You said you had fun last year so…” he said, letting the sentence dangle while he studied the instructions once more. He made it sound innocent, but your warning bells went off instantly.

Your mind trailed to the slutty nurse outfit in the back of your closet. You had…plans. You had an entire night planned of passing out candy to the kids until it got too late. Then you were going to take him to your room and give him some tender love and care. 

All of that flew out of the window…again. Last year, he made the excuse that he was in the middle of an important case and wasn’t able to spend the holiday with you. You knew dating someone in the military would have its ups and downs but you figured that living close to the base meant that he’d be around more. 

This year, however, you made sure that he hadn’t taken on any new cases. You gently steered him to take the time to rest. Not that the big brute knew the meaning of the word. He was like a machine, always moving forward. Never settling. You never wanted to dim his wanderlust but…didn’t you deserve to spend your favorite holiday with your boyfriend?

You could deal with everything else. You could deal with the missed nights, the long cases, the confidentiality. You trusted him. Yet…was he cheating? Was that it? Why this specific night? 

“Reacher, I’d kind of like to spend the holiday with you. I had a few surprises planned actually,” you said.

Reacher looked up from screwing in a shelf and looked at you. He was always so severe. Mouth pressed into a thin line and eyebrows raised like he wasn’t in the mood for any lip talk. He smoothed out his eyebrows and his mouth drooped into a smirk.

“I’m sorry. I know how much this holiday means to you. I have something important to do,” he said. 

“Like? Is there a reason I have to leave my own home for this?” You asked. He held out his hand for the next screw and you handed it to him. His palm was hot to the touch, hotter than normal. 

You looked back at him and really looked him over this time. Your boyfriend always ran hot but he was scorching. He was sweating a bit too even though the temperature outside was below sixty and dropping by the hour. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked. You leaned up onto your knees, letting your fluffy skirt settle around your thighs, as you placed the back of your hand to his forehead. You snatched your hand back with a hiss and rubbed it.

“You’re burning up! Do you need to go to the hospital?” You asked.

“I don’t get sick,” he said, his mouth lifting into a smirk. 

You huffed. “Everyone gets sick, Reacher. Even you,” you said. Though, come to think of it…you’d never seen him so much as sneeze. 

“I don’t get sick,” he said, leaning over to peck your lips. His lips were warm too but you welcomed the kiss and wished he’d ditch the bookshelf and come play with you. Ever the stickler for accomplishing his honey-do list, he leaned away from you and went back to assembling the bookcase. 

“I’d feel better if you were with your parents where your father can look after you,” he said. 

You sat back on your knees and huffed. “I don’t need a big strong man to look after me, Reacher,” you said. The last thing you wanted was to spend the best holiday of the year around your boring ass family. 

Your father had also been in the military and his hard ass didn’t understand anything he couldn’t see. Trying to carve out time for spooky shenanigans in a cold house full of rules and expectations was hard enough growing up. You always felt like a toddler retreating to your parents’ house, where your larger than life father treated you like his baby girl. 

And Reacher knew that. He stopped working and looked at you. “I just want you safe when I can’t look after you myself,” he said.

“Because…?” You asked. You needed a reason. He had to give you a valid reason. Because if this became an every year type of situation, you’d have to sit and talk with him about it. You didn’t ask for much. Reacher rarely denied you. So what was the problem? 

Reacher smiled and wiped his brow. He could claim he wasn’t sick all he wanted but he sure looked like it. Since when he did he sweat like this, inside the house, wearing nothing but a black T-shirt and sweats? 

“You know I can’t tell you,” he said.

You pouted and turned doe eyes on him. Reacher sighed and chuckled, looking away from you finally. “Please?” You asked. You scooted closer, sidling up to his big, thick body and placed your head on his shoulder. 

“Don’t,” he said.

“Pretty please?” You asked, biting your bottom lip. You dialed up the cuteness, making your eyes as wide as they would go. 

“It’s not going to work,” he said. But you already heard the resolve in his voice weaken. He tried to work with you on his shoulder but you rubbed your cheek against his bare arm. He sighed and pulled you into him, kissing your forehead. 

“You know being a brat doesn’t work on me. Come on, help me put this up before it’s too late,” he said.

“Too late? Got a hot date somewhere?” You asked, leaning away from him. You were only half joking. You wouldn’t seriously be with someone if you thought they had the capacity to cheat. Reacher was loyal through and through, almost doggedly so. 

“Smart ass. No. I want to get you to your parents before it gets too dark outside,” he said.

He was really adamant about that. You deflated, sinking onto the floor and handing him the next screw. Reacher glanced at you and sighed. “Please don’t hate me. I’m only looking out for you,” he said.

“I know, Reacher,” you said. You would just have to…make do. You’d leave the bowl of candy outside and let the kids take whatever they wanted. You could watch kids on the ring camera and scare them when they least expected. It wouldn’t be the same but at least you’d get to see some kind of excitement tonight. Too bad it wouldn’t be by riding your boyfriend until the morning light. 

You continued to help him with the bookshelf but your heart was no longer in it. You handed him screw after screw, letting the whir of the fan be the only sound in the room. 

Reacher thrived in silence so you didn’t expect him to fill it with useless conversation. Now you just felt stupid sitting in your costume. If he knew that he wanted you to go to your parents’ house, couldn’t he have said so before you dressed up? 

Sure, you had hours to go before nightfall. Before the kids and adults began walking around the neighborhood in their cute, creative outfits and bags or bowls of candy. But…this sucked. 

You pouted as he finished the bookshelf. You kissed him to thank him but swiftly retreated to your room to get ready. You already knew the drill. You removed your costume and threw on your own pair of joggers and one of Reacher’s shirts. It fit you like a dress but it was comfy and smelled like him.

Reacher got dressed in record time, damn near whistling now that you agreed to go to your parents’ house. You watched him move stiffly, like he was in pain but would never admit it. Things just weren't adding up. Your intuition was screaming at you, warning you that something wasn’t right here. 

You watched him carefully as he continued to wipe his brow or sniffle. If he were sick, he would tell you, right? He swiftly locked up the house, practically kicking you out of the house. He opened the car door for you, ushered you inside, and then hopped into the truck himself.

You still eyed him as he flew through traffic, making it to your parents’ house in twenty minutes flat. 

“You’re being weird,” you said when he parked in the driveway. Your parents’ house was in the middle of a cul-de-sac. The perfect environment for trick or treaters. Yet, this was the most geriatric neighborhood with only one young couple living at the end of the block and they didn’t have kids. 

You’d be lucky if anyone stopped down this street tonight. It was usually dark, lacking decorations, and no one turned on their porch lights. It was the opposite of your place. This place was dull and void of anything resembling fun. 

“I know. And I’m sorry,” he said. He reached out to take your hand, his hand burning to the touch. You held on anyway and turned to him. Turned to the man you were madly, wildly in love with. 

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” You asked. 

“I promise nothing’s wrong. After tonight, I’ll work on a healthier work-life balance,” he said. 

He kissed the back of your hand and you turned to his soft eyes. He still looked the same when he looked at you. Still radiated the same amount of love that was likely reflected in your own eyes. You were going to talk about this. There were no ifs or buts about it. You were going to talk and he was going to listen. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said. 

Reacher kissed your hand one more time before exiting the truck and walking around to open your door. He helped you climb out of his massive truck and then walked with you to your front door, head on a swivel as if you were being watched. He sniffed the air and you found yourself looking around as well. 

You used your keys to enter your parents’ house, calling out to them. Your mother rounded the corner immediately, opening her arms and drawing you into a hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans?” Your mother asked.

“Plans changed,” you said before Reacher could start in with that bullshit line. ‘Duty calls’, your ass. You had half a mind to follow him wherever he tried to go tonight. 

Your mother stepped away and then hugged Reacher, looking incredibly tiny compared to how big Reacher was. The idea took root in your mind as they spoke about you and how this was your favorite holiday. Your mother droned on about how you were as a child, trying to draw vampires and werewolves on pieces of paper for decorations. What she didn’t say was that your father tore them down and promptly turned off the lights, not wanting to give the wrong impression. And save money to boot. 

Your mind formulated the plan quicker than you could keep up with. You could wait until night time, keeping an eye on the ring camera, and then take your mother’s car back to your place. You’d get to the bottom of why Reacher absolutely needed the house to himself for this one special night a year. Once was a fluke. Twice was intentional. 

Your father lumbered into the room, eyes squinting at the intrusive noises. He looked Reacher up and down before breaking into a wide grin. “Reacher,” your father said.

“Sir,” he said back, grabbing and shaking your father’s hand. You eyed them both coolly, wondering how you ended up with two pig-headed men. Done with the niceties, Reacher pecked you respectfully on the cheek. 

“I’ll call you when I get home. And then I’ll make it up to you, promise,” he said. You saw the twinge of heat in his eyes. The sparkle of mischief that let you know that he absolutely would make it up to you. It would probably involve intense oral and your pussy throbbed just thinking of him sitting between your legs until you begged for mercy. 

You waved goodbye to him and watched him walk out of the door, already turning to your mother with a sweet smile. “Can I borrow your car later?” 

Night time fell in waves, turning the sky from dusty blue to purplish black. Few stars twinkled overhead as you drove your mother’s car to your place. There were more cars out and you kept getting distracted by everybody in their amazing costumes. 

However, you kept your phone on while looking at the video of your front door. You had a back door as well but Reacher rarely used it. Since coming home earlier, he hadn’t shown any sign that he left. 

You were being paranoid. You knew this. You knew that he told you to stay away from the house and you were supposed to be at your parents’, trapped in your little tower, but you had a gnawing pit in your stomach.

What if he was sick? What if he was lying on the floor of your bedroom, delirious and out of his mind? This was just a wellness check. That was what you told yourself to justify disobeying his precious orders. In reality, your curiosity ate at you. You wouldn’t be satisfied until you knew for certain that Reacher was okay. That he was just poring over disturbing case files. Or whatever the hell he did on base.

You parked a few houses down from your place and then carefully made your way down the street. You smiled at kids in their costumes, remarked on how creative they were, and then sidled up to your house.

Little did your Reacher know, there were a few blindspots in the cameras. The camera angles couldn’t cover everything. There was one narrow slip down the side of the house that none of the cameras caught. 

Your heart pounded in your chest and your legs wobbled but you were here now. Had to see it through. 

You walked to the backyard, careful to avoid the back camera. You’d have to hope he wasn’t looking at his phone when you were ready to enter. Your boots crunched on dead leaves underfoot, sounding as loud as bone crunching. Your heart beat rapidly, creating a booming drum in your chest. 

A stiff wind blew across your skin and you shivered as you hovered at the side of the house. This was nuts. You were a grown woman sneaking around your own home. Reacher was active military and was not expecting you. If he thought you were an intruder and shot you, you wouldn’t know what to tell Jesus.

“Sorry, Lord, I thought he was cheating on me.” What a stupid way to meet your end. Rationale kicked in with the dropping temperature. You shivered, pulling your phone out of your pocket and scrolling to Reacher’s number.

His thumbnail was a rare picture you managed to snap after you smeared ice cream on his nose during a mini vacation. He had his eyes closed but a clear, goofy grin on his face. It was your favorite. He didn’t deserve this. None of this. 

Rattling chains tore your attention from your phone to the back of your house. Chains? What the fuck? 

The chains rattled again followed by a low whine. It sounded like a wounded animal. Your fingers shook while holding your phone. You were frozen to the spot. Should you investigate? That was some grade A white people shit, but again, what if Reacher was sick? What if he was in trouble at this very moment? 

You knew how to shoot thanks to Reacher’s careful instruction and need to keep you safe at all times. The only problem was, his guns were all locked up in the basement. You took a deep breath. You could be strong for Reacher.

The camera be damned, you jogged up to the back of the house and used your keys to get inside. The house was dark, lights off and no movement in the house. You wanted to call out, but you still didn’t know where the rattling chain sound was coming from. 

You carefully picked your way through the house, turning on your flashlight. Even if a thief saw you, you just didn’t want Reacher to shoot your ass. You walked down the hallway, scanning the phone’s beam over every inch of space before you.

You definitely saw Reacher come inside and never leave. So where the fuck was he? Did he know about the blindspots too?

A high-pitched, animal-like whine tore through the house and turned your insides liquid with fear. 

What. The. Fuck. 

The beam of light shook, creating wavy shadows on the walls. You took a deep breath and decided to brave it. If there was a big ass animal stuck in your basement somehow, you needed to know. If Reacher was into some demon sacrifice shit, you absolutely needed to know right this second. 

Your sexy bear was more than capable of handling himself. He had been nothing but sweet when it came to you. But you never truly knew a person. And if that motherfucker was summoning shit in your basement, you were going to scream bloody murder. Assuming you escaped from him. 

You shook your head, stepping closer to the basement door underneath your stairs. The rattling and whines began to mix, creating a disharmonious screech against your eardrums. Enough to make them itch.

You opened the door and peered down the rickety stairs. You hated the basement. Hated going down the wooden slats that felt like it could give at any moment. The light was on down there with a large shadow moving to and fro. 

You were going to be sick. What were you about to find? “Momma ain’t raise no bitch,” you muttered, clutching your phone to your chest. It was a small weapon, but it’d do. 

You took the first step and then another, curiosity making your steps quicker. Like ripping off the band-aid, you just needed to see. Needed to know. If you were harboring a freak or a psycho killer this whole time, you were going to be sick. Not knowing was killing you. 

With each step gained, more and more of the basement was revealed. You stepped low enough to peer under the ceiling and gasped, hand flying to your mouth. 

A man-like figure stood with its paw on the cement wall, other hand thrusting furiously on its…dick. Its throbbing, dripping dick. The keening whines you heard were the excited moans of the figure, stroking its dick. 

The figure was hairy all over, clearly naked, with pale skin poking beneath gray patches. The arms had muscle stacked on muscle and it had to be at least seven feet tall. Just barely missing the top of the ceiling. It stood on haunched legs, claws extended and scraped the cement flooring. 

The snout was slightly elongated but somehow human with protruding canines poking from thin lips. “Fuuuuuck,” the beast growled. 

You gasped, growing more aroused by the second. This was sick. This was hot. You watched as it bent its head towards a pillow with a long shirt draped over. It stepped closer to the pillow, chains rattling around its hind legs. You glanced at the long shirt. It kind of looked like…

Was that your shirt? Was the beast jerking itself off to your shirt? How long had this creature been here? Where did it come from? And where the hell was Reacher? 

The beast tipped its head back, fingering the tip of its dick. Gathered up beads of pre-cum and then stroked itself again. Your name pushed from its lips sounding suspiciously like …

“Reacher?” You asked.

The beast turned its head completely to you. It was hard to tell but…those eyes. He couldn’t change those eyes. 

He called your name, spreading his arms and looking like a deer in headlights. Maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut. You wanted to see him cum. 

“Leave!” He growled, his voice impossibly deep and animalistic. He stepped forward but the chains prevented him from getting too close to the stairs. You looked him over. You didn’t know how to deal with this. 

Should you run? Should you call for help? Should you help him finish? You stepped down the rest of the stairs and Reacher held out his hand, urging you to stop. You did, one step from the ground. 

Reacher paced, sniffing the air and whining. “Go away before I hurt you,” he said, his eyes glowing with fury. You heard the warning bells in your head but you were too full of lust to pay attention. This was an impossible dream come true. An entire fantasy brought to life. How many monster fucker books did you have on your brand new bookshelf thanks to Reacher? 

“You won’t hurt me,” you said. 

You had a million questions. How? How did he become this? How long had monsters been walking the planet and no one knew? No one had pictures. No one had proof. How? 

Reacher pawed at his ear as if he were ready to burst from his skin. He continued to sniff the air, whines escaping from him as if he couldn’t help it. He was still fully erect, thick bead of pre-cum leaking down his tip and dropping to the floor. His dick was twice its normal size and stuffed. Your pussy clenched looking at it. 

“Go away,” he growled. He was clearly a true mix of man and beast. It should scare you. It should be the last thing you entertained. But your eyes kept dropping to his dick. 

“Reacher…”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pulling at the chains against his legs. The hook pulled from the wall and if he weren’t careful, he would break it altogether. 

A tiny bit of self preservation told you to leave. To turn and close the door and leave him to…whatever the fuck was going on. You stepped backwards as he continued to whine and pull at the chains hooked into the wall. 

The one holding his left foot down escaped from the wall entirely. He stopped whining and looked down at it. He slowly raised his furry face and tilted his head at you. His eyes narrowed and then he sniffed the air, getting closer to the ground until he was on all fours. 

You backed away, keeping your eye on him. This was too new. You didn’t know what to do here. Should you run? Would he just catch you? You backed up the stairs and Reacher’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t any more.

You turned and ran just as the other chain came loose and then his booming steps were following close behind you. You swore you already felt hot breath on your neck as you exited the basement and ran towards the front door. 

Reacher snarled, hot on your heels. Teeth snapping, howls splitting the air. You didn’t have the presence of mind to scream. Or yell for help. You passed by the living room just as Reacher’s massive body pushed you to the ground.

You fell forward with a thud and grunted, knees smarting from hitting the hard flooring. Reacher sniffed your hair and your body, excitable whines leaving him. Or were those moans? 

He licked your cheek, long tongue lolling out of his mouth. He sniffed you more, hands searching your body but you didn’t know for what. 

“What do you need?” You asked. You tried looking behind you. The room was pretty dark but enough light from the porch shone through your windows and illuminated parts of his face and body. His body hair was soft, snuggly, and you kept yourself still as he continued to paw at you. What was he looking for?

“You. You. You. You.” Reacher was out of his mind. He couldn’t stop chanting that word as he pawed and ripped at your clothes. He stopped and growled low in your ear. A moan escaped you anyway. 

Fuck, you were turned on. Turned on to the max. Your panties were soaked with your essence as Reacher sniffed your neck, your back, and trailed down to your joggers. He growled as he caught your scent and then leaned down harder on you.

“Trying. To. Fight. Must. Go.” 

“Why? What do you need? What do you need from me?” You asked.

“Can’t. Control.” He growled, grinding his pelvis against your legs and onto the floor. 

“Sex? You need sex?” You asked. This was what he had been hiding from you? Did he not trust you with this? 

“Don’t. Want. Hurt. You.” He grinded his hips again, a low, deep whine escaping him. 

“You won’t hurt me. It’s okay,” you said. Hell, if it was sex he needed then you were more than game. You slid sideways and he growled, pressing his claw against your back to hold you down. 

“It’s okay,” you said. You slowly flipped over, letting him know that you weren’t trying to escape. Once on your back, Reacher sniffed and pawed at you once more. 

“Leave.” His eyes were full of anguish and despair. But he drooled and licked his chops. His teeth were large, sharp enough to cut through glass you bet. 

Your hands moved to your joggers, peeling it off of your sweat-slick body. Your body thrummed with anticipation and adrenaline, the earlier chase only turning you on more. You kept your eyes on his as you shimmied out of your panties and pants. 

He sniffed at your tummy, moving lower to your pussy. He groaned, a distinctly human sound, as he ground his hips into the floor. “Smell me. I want you. I want this. You won’t hurt me,” you said. 

You lifted the hem of your shirt and took that off as well. Cold air hit your nipples but with the overbearing heat radiating off of him, it was manageable. Reacher sniffed at your exposed skin, licking your nipples. You moaned and arched your back. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, that felt amazing. 

His long tongue captured your entire titty in one lick, leaving a neat trail of saliva on your skin. You shivered as he did it over and over, licking around your nipples. He went back and forth, alternating between them both. His nails clicked on the hardened floor as he braced himself, climbing up your body. He licked your neck and whined, adding in a moan that made your pussy flutter.

As if he heard it or possibly smelled the fresh slick between your thighs, he leaned back on his knees and then spread your legs. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. He was so..unhinged. He operated on instinct, spreading your legs as far as it would go. 

“Sure?” Reacher asked. “Don’t. Hurt.” 

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” you moaned. 

Reacher reached down and used that wonderful tongue to lap at your aching pussy. You moaned and tried to close your legs to the onslaught of pleasure. Hell, you didn’t think you could go back to getting eaten out the regular way. 

His tongue was beautiful and nasty as he latched onto your clit. His sharp canines grazed your pussy lips but never punctured skin. You writhed on the ground, pulling at his hair. He growled and increased his licking and sucking. 

You were falling head first into a powerful, sinful orgasm that robbed you of sight and breath. Your hearing went out of one ear as you convulsed on his mouth, shivering and twitching. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” You cried. One orgasm led to another, making your entire body buck off of the ground. Reacher held you down with his paws, made you take his tongue between your thighs. He pushed his tongue into your dripping hole and your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Fuck, just like that. Just like that,” you moaned, yanking at his hair. If it hurt him, you didn’t hear. You dug your nails into his scalp as he pulled another orgasm from you. Your thighs shook, the heels of your feet digging into the hardwood flooring. 

Reacher lifted his head finally, licking his lips. Your essence dripped from his mouth and you licked your lips. Your hearing slowly returned as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over. 

“Floor too hard,” you moaned. Fuck. He was about to take you doggy style. You couldn’t help arching your back and wiggling your ass. Reacher growled and then jumped to his feet with inhuman speed. As if he had extra muscles in this form that allowed him to move more smoothly.

He picked you up and then placed you onto the powder blue rug in your living room. Much better. He dropped to his knees and roughly grabbed your hips. He pulled until your back was arched once more, ass high in the air. 

His claws dug into your ass cheeks as his dick poked and prodded at your entrance. You were dripping with slick, pussy clenching and unclenching at the back to back orgasms. But fuck, you wanted more. “Take what you need,” you moaned. “You won’t hurt me.” Even if he was rough, you’d accept it. 

Reacher pushed in, met resistance, and kept going. You cried out, fingers clawing at the carpet. The stretch burned. He was far bigger than his normal size and you struggled to take him then. It took a lot of prep time to have sex with Reacher. It was beyond needed now. But you didn’t have time. 

You were driven out of your mind with lust. The darkened room, the grunts and moans coming from his raspy throat, and your moans created a sweet symphony. You were drunk on it. Intoxicated by it. You tried to wiggle and push down on his dick.

Reacher howled as he sank further and deeper inside you, pushing beyond your limits. Stretching you out completely. You were completely stuffed and he still had more to go. “I can take you, baby. Keep going,” you gasped and moaned.

You shut your eyes to the sheer pleasure coursing through your body. His dick hit a deep spot inside you and you collapsed onto the floor as the orgasm tore through your body. You felt like you were split in half on his thrusting, throbbing dick. 

“So good. So good. Needed.” Reacher moaned in between howls. 

“Oh fuck. I can’t, I can’t,” you moaned. You drooled onto the carpet, body limp and weak. Reacher gripped your hips tighter, holding you, impaling you on his dick. He thrust a handful more times before he finally unloaded, stuffing you to the brim with his cum.

You were filled up like a pastry. He thrust harder, pushing it deeper inside of you. It was so much cum, it dripped out of you despite his dick keeping it inside like a plug. His cum leaked down the sides of your pussy lips, around your clit, and dropped onto the floor. 

“One more,” Reacher said, sounding more like himself than before. 

“I can’t, baby,” you whispered, voice completely gone from all the screaming and moaning you were doing. 

“One more,” he said again. He pulled all the way out of you and then thrust back in. He did that over and over, wet smacks filling the air. Your pussy ached and throbbed but you continued to accept him into your body. You made room for him. Made room for his still hardened dick spearing you. 

He whined, claws still digging into your hips. You were going to have bruises like a motherfucker in the morning. But it was so worth it. You clenched around his dick and Reacher moaned, faltering with his steady rhythm and sliding in much deeper than before. His tip kissed your G-spot and you came instantly, flooding his dick with your essence. 

You screamed out, cries echoing and bouncing around the darkened room. Reacher finally pulled out and your pussy squelched. 

You moaned and shivered as more of his cum leaked out of you. You gently fell to the side as Reacher cuddled up next to you on the floor. You petted his thick fur, mind blissfully quiet and empty.

You were nearly asleep when the doorbell rang. Reacher growled, clutching you to him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you said. 

You petted him until he calmed back down, settling down with a contented sigh. You grabbed the nearest throw blanket and wrapped it around yourself. “Who is it?” You called out.

“Police, ma’am,” a deep voice said.

You looked out of the peephole to see two officers in uniform standing outside your door. You threw a nervous glance towards Reacher who was still fast asleep. You cracked open the door and peeked out.

“Yes?” You asked.

“We got a few calls about strange noises coming from this address,” one of the police officers said. 

“Sorry. Me and my boyfriend were going a little crazy with the whole Halloween theme,” you said. 

The officer looked towards his partner and then glanced back at you. “Are you safe, ma’am?” He asked quietly.

You smiled and nodded your head. “I assure you, we’re good. More than good,” you said with a sleepy giggle. It was a miracle you were still on your feet. The officer gave you one last look and then tried to look behind you. But the door was only open a crack and there was nothing for him to see.

“If you need help, here’s my card,” he said. He handed you a card and you waved. You slammed the door in his face and locked it behind you. 

You leaned against it with a bone weary sigh and rejoined your werewolf boyfriend on the floor. You were going to regret sleeping on the floor in the morning but for now, you couldn’t give a single damn. 

Thank you for all the love for my first Reacher fic! The Secret Jack Reacher Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui

@we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kiwi-jelly-mochi @liyaah02

@thabiddie23 @melanated-writersblock @iwudbutnah @keyaho @cardierreh15

@titty-teetee @westside-rot

[a-strange-inkling]

i have nothing to offer for hellcheer anniversary week except tiny snippets of my too many wips 🙈

here is a bit of the mechanic au for the ‘coworkers prompt’:

“Hey, Jonathan,” Eddie beckons quietly through the side of his mouth, still feeling Wayne’s warning scuff burning beneath the waves of his hair. “Jonathan…Jon…Jon… Jonny… Jonny Quest…Jon Bon Jovi.” His half brother finally gives in, rolling his eyes in heavy agitation before glancing up from the other side of the car.

“What?”

“Hey uh…” Eddie peaks over at Chrissy on the other side of the garage, working dutifully on the Prius, her headphones still in her ears. In her own little world. He’s not really bothering her if he’s asking someone else about her. Right? He cups his mouth with one hand as he whispers. “What’s the deal with Tinker Bell?”

Jonathan’s dark eyes jump over to Chrissy instantly, then back to Eddie, his face turning pink before he clears his throat loudly and gets back to work. Oh, so he’s not the only one who’s taken a fancy, apparently. “What about her? You have a problem working with a girl or something?”

“No,” Eddie feels himself bristle defensively. “Course not… just wondering how someone like her ended up in this dump…I mean, c’mon, look at her.”

The girl is beautiful and polished and tiny like she should be wearing pearls and cashmere while being courted by some frat boy at an Ivy League campus that drives the same car she’s currently tuning up. And yet here she is instead, in children’s sized coveralls with an allen wrench in her hand and a smudges of motor oil on her face.

He can tell Jonathan doesn’t appreciate the jab toward the ‘family business’, but he doesn’t care enough to argue about it. He just shrugs his shoulders dismissively as he reaches over for something from the tool box. “Why don’t you just ask her yourself?”

“Because she doesn’t talk to me,” Eddie mumbles, trying not to sound as deflated as he feels about her single syllable greetings and guarded nods of acknowledgement when she punches in. “I think she’s scared of me.”

“She’s just shy,” Jonathan replies, turning his gaze her way again empathetically. “Took her a while to warm up to the rest of us too.”

“Well you two must get along then,” Eddie mutters, rolling his own eyes now, a little sting of irrational jealousy swelling in his chest area.

“We do.” Jonathan answers flatly, keeping his eyes on the stubborn, rusted bolt he’s having trouble loosening.

“Oh yeah, are you guys an item or something?” Eddie grins, mean and pestering. It’s admittedly fun to get under Jon’s skin.

“He wishes,” Will says quietly from where he’s reading his comic book on the old leather couch by the office. Eddie didn’t even realize he was there. Jonathan gives his little brother the side eye, but ultimately ignores him.

“No, she’s got a boyfriend,” Jonathan informs him.

“Total jerk.” Will adds, turning a page.

“Ahh,” Eddie muses, smiling in amusement at young William’s side commentary. “…Serious?”

“I guess,” Jonathan answers, trying for indifference and failing. “Five years.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie chuckles away the sinking feeling in his gut. “Five years… Jesus… I’ve never been with anyone longer than five days.”

Jonathan makes an annoyed face that says I’ve never been with anyone period, asshole.

Eddie decides to steer his irritation in a mutually beneficial direction. “…So he’s a jerk?”

Jonathan meets his gaze, on the cusp of a rueful smile. “Yuppie douchebag.”

“Awful lot of chatting going on over there,” Wayne calls over from beneath the Ford. “The chief is expecting that Blazer ready by the end of the day, boys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves his hand in the old man’s direction dismissively, not remotely concerned about Hopper.

Jonathan gets back to work, while Eddie lets his gaze slide back to Chrissy, who’s right where he left her, that pretty little enigma. She’s gently bobbing her head along to the music, completely focused on her work, her button nose all scrunched.

Damn, she’s cute.

“Why’d you ask?” Jonathan says under his breath, and Eddie realizes that he had asked the question at least twice now.

“I dunno, curious,” he supplies easily. “Not a lot going on around here.”

Jonathan nods his head, brows furrowing in a ‘yeah, sure, bullshit’ sort of way.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells him a little bitterly, finally getting back to work. “Wayne’s forbade me from bothering her.”

Jonathan just snorts softly in reply and the garage quiets back into a companionable silence.

[sirfrogsworth]

I really hope that phrase "it takes money to make money" is true.

I have started taking photo editing gigs. But in order to do them properly I had to purchase some tools to help me.

I got an advanced colorimeter to calibrate all of my displays so I don't have to check my edits on 9 different screens to make sure they hold up. Plus I assume most of my edits will be printed out and you cannot send something to print without an accurate screen.

I mean, you can. There isn't a law against it. But if you want the image on the screen to look anything like what spits out of the printer, ya gotta calibrate.

And I had to buy a $70 software license because I need a single filter Photoshop does not offer. It removes the textured pattern in scanned photos and there is literally no other way to do it.

I feel like I just bought this tool kit...

But I will only be using the smallest Allen wrench.

So the two jobs I've been hired for will amount to $0 in profit.

But I will have these tools available for future jobs and they are only a one-time expense. I just have to make sure these aren't the only two editing gigs I ever book.

[sleepymccoy]

I have a character in my scifi who's missing his legs from knee down. It's not a recent disability so he's adjusted to it. I'm trying to come up with some cool leg attachments he'd probably have. He's an engineer, so he makes his own in his down time and could have some wild stuff

Like, he'd have just easy to walk with legs for causal use I figure. This kinda thing (but both legs)

I reckon he's got stealth fake legs that look and move like real legs, even to the point of having a rubbery skin touch if you bump them. For if he ever wants to lie to people. He lies to people a lot, it's a real character trait so that works for me

He'd have one of the swoopy ones that look so cool

I mean, how cool can you get? They're awesome

They work in zero gravity sometimes. So there'll be a foot design that's easier in zero g. Moving around is mostly done by hooking your toes under a hoop, so something with a hook inbuilt makes sense for him. This kinda of vibe

But more hook-focused in design

I reckon he'll have something that's magnetic. So, he can climb walls by clicking the magnetic of it on and off as he steps. He might use that in zero g sometimes too I suppose

He'll also have a set that attaches to his space suit. They'd have some air thrusters on, so he can kinda fly alongside the ship and adjust position iron man style without having to hold onto stuff to manage himself

And he def has something with like a seat built in. I mean, that's the dream, innit? I'm basing that off this design

But with the idea that the lever thing at the back of the thigh would be a seat that kinda locks into place if you bend your knees a certain way. And on both legs, so he can just sit whenever he wants

He's a pretty fun engineer. I reckon he's got like a work day one that looks like nothing special except it can also make a coffee

Like that, except the coffee machine is attached where the calf would be

Like, that's the work leg on the right, the left work leg has a bunch of emergency engineering equipments. Like, four Allen keys, WD-40, and a wrench hidden inside. And a good erotica novel.

Maybe he'd have one that's designed to flip around and become a table when he sits down? Or a really pretty one? I think he'd have to buy a pretty one, he's not an artistic kinda dude

I can't think of anything else rn. I am taking suggestions lol

[stormyweaver]

Nobody asked for this, but it's my OC Elliott. Have fun!

----

"Hehh!!-- Ihh- ihh- IHHH-- HIIISSHHH'HUUEE!! Ohh… sdf!-- HH'JSSCHHUuee!!" Elliott sniffled - a thick, viscous sound reminiscent of sludge far too packed to flow through the pipe it currently resided in - and winced at the 'bless you's' which echoed through the garage. Taylor spoke up first, as always, with a blow to Elliott's already fragile ego. "Jesus, you plan on stopping any time soon? I only have so many fingers to keep count!" Though a part of Elliott, a large part, wanted to beam his co-worker with an allen wrench, he knew that the comment was at least partially warranted. Ever since arriving to work, Elliott had been sneezing on and off; and that wasn't even including the sneezing before he'd gotten to the auto shop. Pausing to cough into his elbow, the brunette decided to opt for non-violence - and instead threw up a not-so-friendly gesture towards his fellow mechanic. "Maybe if you actually focused on working instead of counting my sneezes, you'd leave on time for once," With another forceful, snorting intake of air, Elliott laid back down on the bench beneath his back. It felt cold and rough beneath his aching muscles, the skin shivering every so often, sticky with sweat. He was genuinely surprised he hadn't soaked through the entirety of his shirt already. Despite his malaise and slight dizziness, he continued working on the car's suspension. A few minutes in, he blinked blearily, before a panicked, albeit hazy expression settled onto his face. No no, not again, he was almost done! Rosy nostrils fluttered as his chest rose with a sharp inhale.

"Ehhh--!! EHH'JSSCHH'HIEW! HH'RRRSCHH'HIIEW!!Ohhh…"

The sneezed threatened to bolt him entirely upright, and he barely managed to restrain the strong expulsions from doing so. Still, his nose still got it's vengeance: glistening trails of mess clung to his upper lip, along with a heavy spray settling onto his face and shirt. Elliott swore under his breath, then went rigid as Taylor piped up again.

"Thirty-six!" Fucking hell. He'd probably beat his record at this point, and it was only... 11:30am. Today was gonna be long.