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arieslost · 2 days

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reader and little leclerc meeting at a karting comp when they were tiny and growing up charles developed the fattest crush on the reader but only later in his f1 career does she find out. not from charles himself but from carlos who ‘accidentally’ slips up and mentions it

i’m assuming by little leclerc u meant arthur so i hope i was correct 🤞🏼🤞🏼

crush | cl16

you always thought charles leclerc had some sort of underlying hatred for you, even though he was nothing but kind to you every time you interacted. maybe it was the way he’d always look at you with what you could only describe as a pained expression, like it hurt to even be in your presence.

not that he had much choice, considering you’d been racing with his brother arthur since the beginning of time.

it never evolved into a career for you, but having formed such a close bond with arthur, as well as the rest of the leclercs, you stuck around. you remained a close friend even after arthur was promoted to single seater racing and you never left karting, not until their father passed and you dedicated all of your time and effort to comforting the family and helping however you could. eventually, that evolved into you working for ferrari in pr and other various communications a year after charles signed to ferrari.

wherever a leclerc was, you were bound to follow.

which leads you to now, having landed in imola a few days before most of the team (including the drivers) to coordinate interviews, filming, photography… the list is endless sometimes, but you love your job. even more so when you’re given the privilege of briefing the drivers on what to expect for the day.

except for the fact that charles comes in and sits down without sparing you so much as a fleeting glance.

that’s how your suspicions had started— when he stopped looking you in the eye. it used to be you who was intimidated by eye contact, those green eyes of his never failing to make your cheeks heat up. but eventually you got over it, and one day you fixed him with a brave stare that left him unable to mask his surprise. and then he stopped looking at you. then the incoherent mumbling started, then the abrupt “i have to go” in the middle of a conversation. you never understood why he was acting the way he was. you still don’t.

“good morning, querida,” carlos greets you smoothly as he enters the room, and you swear you see charles’ brows furrow for a split second.

“good morning,” you smile at him, chancing a look at charles, who is still deeply engrossed in whatever’s on his phone. “there’s a decent amount of things i want to go over with you guys, so i really need you to pay attention.”

you went through the itinerary, pausing every now and then to make sure both drivers were paying attention. charles had shut off his phone, but he was still looking anywhere else but at you. when you caught his eye upon glancing upwards, he looked down at his lap like you had told him he massively screwed something up.

you’ve often thought about confronting him, but to be honest, you could never really come up with a solid reason to do so. if he didn’t want to look at you, that was more his problem than it was yours.

“okay, i think that’s all i have for—” you’re not even finished with your sentence before charles is uttering a hasty “thanks” and rushing out the door.

“you’d think he would’ve caved and told you by now,” carlos muses when the door clicks shut, shaking his head.

“told me what?”

“you know,” carlos begins, rising from his seat, “that he’s madly in love with you.”

“what?!” you exclaim.

“oh, dear,” he continues dryly. “did i say that out loud?”

“carlos sainz, so help me—”

“you’ll have to excuse me, i don’t want to be late to the media pen,” he interrupts, making to leave as well. “i suggest confronting him, that’s probably the only way to get him to talk.”

your opportunity comes after the free practice sessions the next day, where you manage to corner charles as he’s leaving his driver room.

“is it true? do you—” you want to say love me, but the words just won’t come out. they feel too intimate. “do you have feelings for me, charles?”

he opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to respond. “you won’t look at me, you barely talk to me anymore, and it feels like you hate me. so honestly, just tell me anything other than saying you hate me.”

“i don’t hate you,” he says immediately. “not at all— why don’t you come in so we can talk? i don’t want to have this conversation knowing someone with a camera could come around the corner.”

fair point. you allow him to guide you into his driver room, watching as he shuts the door behind him.

“who told you?” he asks.

“carlos. in a weird, unnecessarily cryptic way.”

“classic carlos,” charles huffs, raking a hand through his hair.

“is it true?” you repeat quietly, beginning to fear his answer.

he looks at you. “what if it was?”

“charles—”

he interrupts you now. “i can’t look at you because every time i do i think about how much i want you. i look at you and i wish more than anything that i could hold you, kiss you, make you laugh. things just haven’t been the same since… since papa.”

you reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly in your own.

“and eventually i just couldn’t talk to you, because if i did, everything i want to say would come out… like it is right now,” he smiles shyly.

you never thought you could make charles leclerc shy.

“anyway, i like you. a lot.” he declares, taking on a confident tone. “i’ve had a crush on you for a while, and i’m sorry that it manifested as something else. i don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“maybe…” you begin slowly, watching his eyes light up. “maybe you could take me out.”

he smiles widely, squeezing your hand. “i think i can make that happen.”

“good. i’ll be waiting for your call.” you lean up, pressing a brave kiss to his cheek before exiting the room.

the blush creeping over his cheeks stays imprinted on your mind for the rest of the day. it won’t be the last time you see him that way.

word count: 1,041

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was such a cute request. i hate the ending (when do i not, honestly) so if this flops it’s fully my fault

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo @ahgase99 @ferrarisfailedstrats @levidazai @brune77e @watersquirtpewpewboomm

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bunniedolle · 1 day

Text

soft yandere photographer who accidentally snaps a picture of you for one of his projects when he was supposed to take a photo of a butterfly who decided to take a break from flying and rests it's colorful wings on the top of your sketchbook. your creative mind too busy to get distracted with such a small little thing.

ever since then, soft yandere photographer has been following you wherever you go. snapping pictures of you in different scenery, different clothing, but you're always stuck in that precious sketchbook of yours.

you were always so focused, the serious expression on your face never budging. but sometimes it'll be different, your face subtly expressing a bunch of emotions as your fingers lifts up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your brows furrowing with the smallest amount. he figured it was to help you create more expressive characters.

he can never get too close to you, as for some reason aside from your art, you were gifted with really keen senses. flinching and turning your head away from the pages of your drawings to see what made the grasses beneath you rustle a bit. he nearly stumbles on his feet, pretending to be just walking past you, heart skipping a beat when you make eye contact and give each other a small smile.

it's almost like a little play for him, appearing as a different role each time just to catch a glimpse of you.

after that, he can only observe and take a photo of you from a good enough distance that you'll think he's just another person amongst the people enjoying a cup of coffee in that favorite cafe of yours you usually like to go to. or he's just one of those people who like to read their books near mother nature as he sits on one of the benches in the park which is coincidentally in the same row as yours.

all of those times he's sneaky with his camera, using his surroundings to his advantage. faking to post about the cafe's interiors to promote them, when it was solely your pictures that contains the storage of his camera.

it was always the same routine, until one day, when he managed to find the perfect spot that's a little closer to you than usual—he noticed something from that little sketchbook of yours, zooming in closer to create a more clearer image for him. his breath suddenly getting trapped in the back of his throat.

it was... him. all of them. drawn in seemingly different art styles as if you were testing which one suits him the best. he even recognized some of the poses you used for him. there was one where he was in your favorite cafe, with his own ordered coffee as he remembers sitting on a different table across from yours. there was even one where he was at the park sitting on a bench, where he was supposedly to be reading the book he brought with him.

and what's strange about those specific drawings of yours, is that you've drawn him with his trusted camera on his hands, blocking half of his face as the little slashes of lines around the sketched camera indicates that he was taking a picture. almost as if you knew what he was doing...

he felt his heart almost jumped out of his chest when he zoomed out from your sketchbook, because instead of finding you burying yourself in the world of your sketchbook, he saw you looking towards his way. acknowledging him. your eyes meeting his through his camera.

you seem to attract butterflies a lot, when another like before joins you for this special picture, his shaky hands trying their best not to drop his camera on the ground as he snaps a photo of you smiling cheekily at him. the little butterfly giving him more cute pictures of you laughing and giggling as it tickles you, playfully kissing you in the nose.

#𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 #just a cute silly idea i thought of #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere concept #yandere x gn reader #yandere fluff #yandere drabble #yandere writing

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zombieplaygrounds · 2 days

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cw: virgin men, masturbation, sexual fantasies, implied age gaps, implied inexperienced sexual relationships, oral sex, masturbation, whats the thing where you get caught jerkin it? that.

Everyone loves virgin! Simon who's unknowingly a sex god while he bullies a fat cock into your horny cunt. Huffing and puffing in your ear as he asks you how good you feel, accidentally overstimulating you but far too clueless to even consider that your shaking and trembling is related to how dumb he fucked you. 'Course, he was just trying to be sweet to you, maybe get some coffee if you hadn't jumped on him for a good ride on his meat.

Even virgin! König had a considerable amount of attention for his monstrous cock that he'd never be able to fully fill you with. Too much of a jock-ish idiot to even know where to begin with foreplay, just rams his fingers up your cunt until you're sore and bucking your own hips against his palm to help smear your sloppy juices down his wrist. Every single "do you feel good?" is followed by your crying whines for him to shut the fuck up and keep stroking his own cock. Eyes wide watching pearl tears drizzle from the angry tip.

But where do I, the writer, draw the line? Virgin! Price. Old bastard aged like fine wine, his values held to something much more conservative - planned to spend his first time with a beautiful woman he dressed in pretty white silk on her wedding day. Someone who made his heart throb passionately; not with lust and the greedy desire to consume and ravage away her beauty.

Ideally, a woman to grow a family with.

Of course, considering his job, the risks his simple existence poses on any of those close to him - he cowered. Though, Price never really did see a true need to focus on that one, simple wish. He was satisfied with his 141, a group of rebellious young men he considered his own children; he was satisfied with his rare takes of leave, where he spent his time hiking and hunting, occasionally catching up with old friends from his civilian life; most importantly, Price was content.

Was.

A past tense term, considering his "ideals" of what made life so damn tolerable were thrown out the window. Shattered into billions of pieces that painted maps around the single coffee mug that was left on his desk one early morning. A note in your handwriting, with the coffee made just exactly as he liked it, and maybe even a small pastry from the vending machine - a pastry which was his favorite. Usually one that was hard to get because it was so damn good. And the note?

Have a good day, Cap'n! Love ya! btw, this is your favorite, yeah?

Fuck. You were too cruel. You and your pretty handwriting, smudged in blue gel pen ink. It was cute, sweet, endearing from a young thing like you. Made him feel sick and perverse, adjust the tightness that began around his crotch - because it felt so fucking dirty to be some turned on by a kind gesture. Especially a gesture from something as sweet and innocent looking as you.

All of those thoughts in his mind brought to a painful, stirring silence. Price would've almost felt shame for his next actions, the somehow graphic act of taking a huff of the sweetly scented drink made just for himself by you. The smearing of his finger tips against the note and getting a faint whiff of your sweet scented hand cream, the one you keep in the staff fridge, bitching at anyone who touches at it (something he was personally victim to).

The gentle, candied scent was enough to make his cock stir; rub against the rough fabric of his boxers, through his pants, through to his palm that somehow assisted in a slow, grinding motion against his self. His hand tilting backwards, eyes rolling back. Was the door locked? He wondered, not bothering to even give himself a glance at the knob to see if the slit was tilted horizontally or vertically; none of it mattered, too consumed by the peak edge he needed.

Too consumed by filthy, tainted thoughts of you. Your lips smeared in his own milk white sperm, no doubt still virile despite his years of maturity; wondered if his load would take if you just gave him the chance. Wondered if you'd pant, or moan his name. If your cunt dripped or creamed around his throbbing cock; what he'd kill to see your entire body trembling from a few bounces against him. Shove his calloused fingers into that pretty mouth of yours, begging you to be silent, and good.

You would be his first and final; a crossing thought that blurred past his mind. And the thought of putting a pretty jewel on that little ring finger of yours made him audibly gasp, sweat droplets splatter down from his cheek to his chin. And you, you're so young, full of potential. A real energetic pup that would probably eagerly teach him all the ways to make you feel good.

By now, Price was roughly, almost brutishly, fisting his own cock. Panting and hunched over the pretty note made by pretty you. His eyes squeezed shut as he bit into his fist, trembling at the splattering liquid that filled his palm. Droplets hitting the floor beneath him, a mess that would be so fucking frustrating to clean; the last thought on his mind.

Because how could he focus when you stood at the other side of the desk, a palm on either side as you leaned forward. So softly whispering: "Cap'n, did you like the coffee that much?"

Virgin! Price, who gives you the honor of being the first missus to wrap a warm mouth and plump lips against the tip of cock, kitten licks to clean away pearly beads of arousal that dribbled down the shaft. His clean hand rubbing your scalp so gently, humming soft, purring coos; mentally pondering your ring size as you greedily fit him inside your mouth. Whining vibrations fading the thought away once again.

tagging my fwends: @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777

#zombieplayground #zombieplaygrounds #price mw2 #john price #captain price #price #141 #price cod #call of duty #captain john price #john price cod

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kurxmis · 17 hours

Text

The air is crisp and piercing.

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Gender Neutral! Reader

Not Beta read.

Reblogs support your favourite writers!

“Thank you!” You whisper at the incubus who hands you the small packet of seeds.

“I don’t get it… Why - out of everything would you want plants from Earth?” The demon grumbles, leaning back, shirt straining against his muscles. His sharp eyes watch your form as you take the packet of seeds and place them in your drawer. You hum, tail swishing happily as you hand him a small packet and he grins. “Thanks babes.”

You smile “Can’t a demon have interests? And to be honest… I would do anything to see the gardens of Earth once more…” Your voice trails off and the incubus shrugs. Ruffling your hair he grins.

“Whatever you say babes.” He shrugged. “Lemme know what kind you want next time.” He stretched tail swishing as he walked off.

You shut your door and eagerly scampered to your greenhouse. Vines coiled around the walls and up the glass. Flowers bloomed and small fruits hung from the branches. You looked up at the plants, vines curling and twisting around each other, bright coloured flowers, coming in every shape and size, the smell made you feel dizzy and happy.

This is what all your hard work amounted to.

And it was incredible.

You take a step back and smile. It was time to water them anyways. You closed the door and ran to get some water.

“Ugh…” Lucifer groaned, clutching his head, clearly, trying to teleport to his daughter’s hotel while being horribly hungover was a terrible idea. Where in Hell was he? Hopefully someplace that respected his authority and let him go. He reaches for his hand, brushing off the soil that sat on the brim.

Soil?

This isn’t the kind of dirt that existed in Hell…

Lucifer’s eyes widened as he looked up, it was green… so green, and it smelt… beautiful. He let his mind drift when he teleported, no wonder he ended up… here? Where is… here?

Stepping up and dusting off his robe, the King of Hell looks down at the flowers, looking up at the hanging pots, the air was crisp and fresh, he felt alive. The plants that hung from the glass ceiling and those that wrapped around anything they could find reminded him of Eden.

How could something… so beautiful exist in a place like Hell?

Six pairs of wings pop out from his back, stretching and shimmering as he carefully flies up, looking over each plant carefully. Red eyes gazing over the foliage that delicately grew and twisted over every branch. Who knew how many plants grew here, and yet - when he looked over each one, he knew that someone special tended to them. Someone with careful hands and a love for cultivating life.

Lucifer couldn’t blame them.

It was so beautiful.

“Hell…o…?” A voice calls out, before a clatter snaps him out of his trance. Lucifer freezes, still in the air, wide eyes looking at the imp, scanning them and he gulps. The watering can you carefully brought with you had dropped to the floor, drenching your socks and soaking your shoes.

“Uhm- You have lovely plants aha… uhm… sorry…” He says, nervously, carefully flying down, making sure not to flap too hard and to accidentally tip over a pot or destroy a delicate vine. “I uhm… didn’t catch your name?” He tilts his head, grabbing his cane with one hand.

“Oh! Uh… It’s uh… [Name]. Your majesty.” You anxiously bow, and Lucifer steps back, shaking his head, chuckling nervously.

“Oh- oh you don’t have to call me that! It’s ok! Just Lucifer is fine! You can forget the formalities… in fact…” He looks around at the greenhouse you’ve built. “I should be calling you the royalty; how did you do this? It’s incredible…” His voice drifts off and the praise causes you to bristle in place.

Your face flushes. “Well… uhm… You know…” You mumble, worried. “It’s uh… I mean… fuck I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t have been doing this I’ll get rid of them your majesty-”

“No.” Lucifer’s voice cuts in and you freeze, “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get rid of this. This… what you’ve done is truly amazing. It’s a million times better than anything any other hell born- or sinner for that matter, has created. Please. I beg of you. Do not ruin what you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

The heat rises in your cheeks, and you nod.

“If you come to visit. I’ll keep it.”

Lucifer grins.

“Done!”

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reidsdimples · 17 hours

Text

When Everything Changed | Part 1

Enemies to lovers | Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Angst 🖤

Spencer isn't a fan of the BAU's new genius (you).

You didn’t have a particular like or dislike for Dr. Spencer Reid. For the most part you felt fairly neutral. He was a colleague, one of the team. The two of you weren’t super close but Garcia says that’s because there’s not enough space in the BAU for two genius’s.

He didn’t seem to care for it when you blurted out facts that Hotch asked for or knew a statistic down to a closer decimal than he did.

“If you would do your reading on rapidly updated internet databases instead of printed out media, your statistics wouldn’t be a month behind,” you sniped at him after he sassed you.

Hotch gave you a pointed look.

“He said 13.6% and you said 13.2%- that discrepancy is not one I’m concerned with. 13% would have been fine,” Hotch said and looked back down at the case file before him.

The jet hummed softly, Rossi raising his eyebrow at Reid who seemed to have something to say.

“Reid what do you know about sharp force injuries to the ears?”

“The ear canal is a sensitive and vulnerable part of the body, often associated with communication and hearing. The criminal may have chosen this specific method as a way to assert control or power over their victims by targeting a vital sensory organ. Depending on if he wound it into the brain slowly, it may have been a sadistic killing,” he answers rapidly.

“You think this was torture? It looks more like an instant death,” you answer.

“Ancient torture methods focus on the ears as a way to deal pain by shattering the ear drums and rendering the victim deaf. Given the amount of blood in the right ear I’d say it was done antimortem as a form of torture while the pick through the left ear was the killing blow. He even angled this ice pick upward and into the brain,” he runs his long fingers over the crime scene photos to show you.

You’re almost in awe that he was able to deduce that before seeing the bodies but you say nothing.

"The first two only had an ice pick to the ear which killed them," Hotch said.

"Maybe he hadn't learned yet that he enjoys the torture," Rossi adds.

“Either way this unsub has a fascination with ears,” JJ says.

“Maybe he’s deaf himself?” Morgan chimes in.

You accidentally kick Reid’s ankle while adjusting in your seat across from him, he snaps his head up and narrows his eyes on you.

The conversation spurs on all the way to Portland, Maine where the smell of saltwater invades your nostrils as you step off of the plane.

The following day you’re partnered up with Reid to sort through a series of clues left by the unsub. Two more bodies dropped in twenty-four hours, leaving 8 riddles on 8 bodies that needed to be decoded.

“I can take care of this myself,” Reid argues with Hotch.

“I know you can but an extra set of eyes can’t hurt, we’re on a time crunch. Monica Dentz went missing four hours ago. If he sticks to his MO, she only has ten hours left,” with that Hotch exited the room.

Reid rather aggressively tossed his should bag on the table before snatching up copies of the riddles from the table and pinning them to the board.

“I’m not trying to get in your way,” you sigh. You watch him organize the riddles on the board.

“Try harder,” he snaps.

You scoff but your eyes scan over his tall frame as he puts the board together. Nope.

“I think the first one is talking about a ship, same with the third and fifth,” Reid says as he flips a pen in his fingers.

“If you’re taking it literally. ‘Alone in the tide’ could just be a metaphor for loneliness,” you point out.

“And what do you make of ‘the bow takes charge, towards the arctic waters where she sleeps’?” He asks. He’s less condescending this time, more curious but still annoyed.

“That.. that’s probably about a boat,” you accept.

“If you look at these as a story, where you read them from the first lines strung together and then the second lines… it reads like a book. I think someone he loved died at sea,” it seems to click for Reid and he starts scribbling on the board. “And here… I think this means there was an explosion. A boiler room maybe?” He’s moving around the two boards quickly, talking fast, pushing his hair back from his eyes. For a moment you almost find it adorable.

“Maybe he went deaf in a boating accident that killed someone he loves…” you add, standing to look at the board.

He calls Garcia and then Hotch.

“He’s killing them on a boat, it’s symbolic for him. We think he was a victim of a boating accident and lost his hearing…” he continues to speak but you become distracted.

Why were you becoming attracted to him? He was never ugly but you had never noticed him this way before. He was too busy infuriating you with his attitude. Yet he was growing on you in the last few months. Weird.

“Now what?” You ask him.

“We wait for them to get names. Hotch will tell us where he needs us next, we’ll continue to work the profile from here,” he places the pen in his mouth and flips through the victim profiles again.

“Don’t you have an eidetic memory? Why do you keep going through those…”

“Helps me deduce the information,” he shrugs dismissively.

You frown.

“Ya’know,” you sigh and pull up a chair across from him. “I have no intention of overshadowing you.” He glances up from the file.

“So why do you go out of your way to correct or narrow down my answers?”

It’s a perfectly reasonable question. You didn’t know why you did it.

“Habit? I’m used to being the smartest person in the room,” you admit.

“Right,” is his only response as he opens another file.

You don’t know what else to say so you take a look at the profile the team has built.

2 hours pass in awkward silence before Hotch calls the two of you to meet them at the east harbor for a raid of the now named suspects boat.

Once you arrive, Morgan and Prentiss greet you while you’re fumbling with your vest. After a moment and a frustrated sigh, Reid steps behind you.

“Here the strap is twisted up,” he says.

His fingertips graze your hip where your shirt is riding up. Your breathing hitches but you try not to appear affected.

“Thanks,” you tell him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you answer Prentiss who had been explaining the entry points.

“The two of you friends now?” Morgan asks Reid.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Reid answers stoically with his hand propped on his gun. You scoff and shake your head.

“What?” Reid turns his head to you.

“Nothing, let’s just do this,” you snipe. Morgan and JJ exchange an concerned glance.

The man was impossible. You understood if he had walls up, if he didn’t like new people or the competition. But he’s not even trying to welcome you in the slightest.

The scent of ocean air and dead fish fills your nostrils as you follow behind Morgan down the dock. Reid and JJ creep onto the stern of the considerable sized old yacht while Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss took the bow. You and Morgan are entering through the main entrance of the cabin with deadly stealth.

You hear varying 'clears' come from your coworkers before you point Morgan to a hatch leading below deck. You think you can hear shuffling of some kind happening but it's hard to tell with the sway of the ship.

The rest of the team enter behind you but its Morgan who insists on jumping down first, forgoing the small ladder.

"Randy Lional, put your hands up," he's shouting as you drop down behind him.

You raise your gun as you take in the scene, someone else drops down behind you, it's Reid based on the silver revolver in your line of sight.

The man is crouched over an unconscious Monica Dentz, one of her ears bleeding and her wrists bound. You think she's still breathing.

"Put the gun and the ice pick down man," Morgan yells and then Hotch is next to him.

"He can't hear you," you tell Morgan when Randy drags the barrel of the gun over the girl's half naked body as though he's lost in a trance. His burly back is turned to the team and the situation is so unique that none of you know how to intercept him.

You push between Morgan and Hotch to slowly approach him. It's Reid who grabs your arm and shakes his head, something like concern playing in his hazel eyes. You take your arm from him and turn to the unsub.

An idea strikes you so you pull off your earring and toss it in his direction, it slides across the floor into his line of sight, causing him to jump up and turn around.

The man's eyes are wide, dark bags below them. He's frantic as he shakily points the gun at you. His stringy strands of hair are oiled to his chubby aged face and he appears to be shocked by the FBI's presence. He's aiming the gun at Monica's head.

"Put the gun down," Morgan yells again, gesturing at the weapon.

You begin to use sign language, after putting your own gun back in its holster. Reid steps closer to you, his revolver still raised.

"I know that you're hurting. I know what happened that night. I'm so sorry about your parents," you begin to sign. "But torturing others this way is not going to change what happened to you."

Reid glances at you, seemingly impressed by your use of ASL.

"She's trying to talk him down," Reid informs the rest of the team.

"Please, drop the weapons," you sign to him again. He looks more sad, defeated than before and you're hopeful.

"Does he profile as suicidal?" You ask the team.

"Yes," Hotch answers. You swallow hard.

Just then Monica stirs awake and begins screaming against the cloth gag in her mouth.

What happens next feels like slow motion, you don't even know how to process it.

Randy raises the gun and fires at you, three shots in rapid succession before you can blink. And then Reid has stepped nearly completely in front of you, firing two shots along with a barrage of shots from the team.

You hit the floor in a daze and chaos ensues.

"We need medics!" Prentiss is screaming into her ear piece.

"Two agents hit, one victim, subject deceased," Hotch is speaking into his mic as he rushes over to you.

The blinding pain is in your shoulder, the blood hot as it oozes out of you.

"Reid," you search for him.

"Ah, I'm okay. I'm okay," he doesn't sound okay.

And then you see it, the wound in his neck, the blood pouring from his mouth. Reid is grabbing at his throat for the wound, blood coating his hand. Crimsons running down his slender wrist and long fingers. Then Morgan is applying pressure to the wound while JJ is tending to you.

You wince in pain as she is pressing down on your shoulder. You can physically feel the metal bullet sitting inside of your body, sending pain radiating in all directions. People are talking all around you, JJ's eyes are full of tears as she tries to get you to stay conscious.

"Come on kid, look at me," Morgan is pleading with Reid. no no no.

"Why did you..." you try to ask why he stepped in front of you but the room begins to spin. You start to see double and you don't know if its you or Reid groaning in pain. Reid's eyes are rolling back in his head and he's starting to go limp in Morgans lap.

Reid took a bullet for you, and it may kill him. What if he dies thinking you hate him?

A blur of paramedics enter the space before you lose consciousness murmuring Reid's name.

A/N- Hope you guys love this. I'm already working on the 'lovers' part.

#mgg #spencer reid #mgg pics #criminal minds #spencer reid one shots #dr reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction

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halfbit · 3 days

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some brief advice for characters with small scars from a head injury (from my specific experience) since i do see people give these types of scars to characters sometimes

mine is like this for reference:

specific info:

i didn't receive in-hospital treatment for it even though i lost consciousness i was kicked by a horse, the metal horseshoe is what did it it was a long time ago (over a decade now)

it doesn't effect me much day to day, it is always visible but it has become less prominent over time. certain expressions (anything eyebrow raising especially) make it very obvious.

it is physically raised and lacks pigment.

sensation wise, it used to itch but i haven't felt that for awhile now. if i pay attention when touching it, there's a slight difference in temperature from the rest of my skin. if i scrape it (even just lightly, like scratching with a fingernail) it feels like its bleeding even when its not.

if i accidentally hit it (i dont like doorways), it is extremely painful, it burns, my vision flashes white and i see stars, and it feels like its bleeding all over again of course. it feels like the irl equivalent of being stunned by an electric arrow. if your character has a scar like this, having them get hit on it in a fight is a good way to make them go down for a bit. the sensation also lingers for a decent amount of time afterwards, depending on how hard the hit was. the lingering feels like a heavy pulsing/throbbing, similar to a strong headache but localized on the scar. personally, it feels like even minor impacts can have a really strong effect still as long as its a pretty direct hit.

so yeah just my personal experience having a scar like this! i like seeing characters with similar scars but it often feels like it was just a cosmetic choice to show that they're tough. it's not something that is super high-impact for me, but it still has its effects, and when you aggravate them you can't really focus on anything else until it goes away.

#writing advice #writeblr #dont really know what to tag this with ngl #i've been meaning to briefly ramble about it for awhile tho #its not like its a big thing but its just something i think about now and then #i imagine its similar for vertical scars? but ofc anyone with different scars is welcome to chime in lol #lowkey this is just an excuse for me to rant about how much it fucking hurts when i accidentally hit it tho #like come on why'd you have to do that <- me to myself #usually on doorways because i am so good at moving through gaps #also yeah i wrote this instead of the story im supposed to be writing #king of procrastination #god i need to do that now tho #i just want to see some tough guy have to bowl over and curse because he accidentally got hit on one of his old scars

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stawbabyfloofs · 3 days

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Caregiver Alastor Headcanons!

Tw: Cursing and mentions of Hell

I think Alastor would really prefer regressors who have a little age old enough that they can run around and be chaotic. He'd definitely fuel their energy and have all sorts of physical activities or play they can do! Bonus points if they're a high energy regressor!

He's the type of caregiver to go with the flow of whatever you want...until it's too dangerous. I think he'd be really hot and cold, like one moment he's cheering you on and then once you cross the line, he stops you right there.

"I think that's enough, darling. You should stop right there."

For this reason, he's not big on rules, he mostly just orders you on the spot and they're never written. Overall, he wouldn't have any unless you told him you wanted some.

Alastor definitely calls you his little hellspawn, darling, devil, gremlin, rascal, kiddo, and makes up little names for you

Alastor doesn't have a need or preference for any caregiver nickname. You don't have to call him one, nor does he want it, but that doesn't mean he opposes it either. He'd be okay with anything you came up with.

He doesn't mind having you in his radio tower, actually, he enjoys your company! When he's not busy, you two color up there, play games, and he'll even do shadow puppetry for you! Anything you'd want, he's down for it! But when he's busy, he makes it a rule to wear noise-cancelling headphones so you don't hear his work, but also he has pillows blocking your view or he casts his shadows to cover his work instead

This isn't because it would be too graphic, you live in hell, you're used to it, he just doesn't want you to see that side of him while regressed.

Will let you play with the radio tower's microphone, but only while it's off! He doesn't want to accidentally broadcast the things you say or some babbles/gibberish that comes out of your mouth.

He tries his best to keep you a secret for your own safety. Alastor knows he has a lot of enemies and people who would use you to force his hands, or at worst harm you, so only the main crew knows about you and your regression! Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Rosie, etc!

Alastor isn't really big on giving physical affection other than headpats and pinches. Those are his favorite to give, and he wouldn't give any others unless you particularly asked for it. He wouldn't be opposed to receiving it either, but he wouldn't go out of his way to ask for it.

Whenever you're bored, he'll do magic tricks with his powers for you to watch. You wanna see his antlers poke out? Him knock over books? You got it! Hell, he'll even corrupt part of the world around you if you'd like! If he needs a little break or is busy, he'll cast a shadow to be your playmate, or babysitter (only for a short amount of time)

He'd spawn demonic toys for you to play with as well.

If he needs you to be entertained, and or babysat a little longer, he'd prefer to hand you off to Rosie, but he's alright with giving you to Charlie and telling Husk to make sure you're safe and that she doesn't do something dumb. Charlie's always making sure your happy and safe! She's one of the best babysitters you could have, so you don't mind.

Allows you to play with his microphone staff, but only while he's watching. He's very weary to lend it out to anyone, including you, even though he knows you wouldn't do anything bad with it intentionally.

Alastor reads the best bedtime stories, he's very used to talking in a way others find entertaining, so you're no different! You'll be out like a light by the time he closes the book.

I actually think he'd be really good at pretend play. I mean like, the BEST actor around. You need him to be an angry Karen for your restaurant? He NAILED it! 5 star actor on your hands with his dicton and exaggerated mannerisms!

While at the hotel, he let's you do whatever you'd like with him. Ruffle his hair? Tug on his antlers? Climb up and crawl all over him? Bite/nom on his leg? That's fine by him! You can unleash yourself and go full gremlin on him, he'll pretend like nothings happening while he's talking to the main crew, unless they point it out.

"Oh don't mind the hell spawn, but yes I have business to take care of."

Although, outside the hotel he warns you not to do that for the sake of your safety....but mostly his reputation. He couldn't dare to let the other sinners of hell see him like that.

You know how there's a mom stare? Alastor has one for his regressor, too. A warning is when his eyes turn mostly black. When you're pushing it, his antlers peek out a little, and when you're going too far...yeah they're coming all the way out and the environment will be partially corrupted.

I don't see him as having to dish out punishments a lot with how stern he is, but if you go past that point he'll put you in timeout with telekinesis. Yes, when he says 5 minutes, he means 5 minutes in the air.

Doesn't like you watching television at all, so you have a screentime limit. Yes...I know, boring, but he can provide much better entertainment in his eyes! (He looks at TV the same way most people look at IPads for kids)

Teaches you how to be a menace and trick with others. It's free entertainment for both of you. No further explanation.

Lets you curse while regressed, and has no problem with it. It doesn't exactly encourage it, but he doesn't punish it either! He's definitely neutral, Alastor's just happy that you're communicating with him.

Will sing for you, or tell you something through a song. Did I mention he'll be dancing during it as well?

Alastor loves to tease you and play fight with you alot, he's very good at coming up with remarks or silly things to say!

"Darling, you really shouldn't pick a fight while you're awake, I'll just broadcast your snores later. Backing down now, are we?"

Can you tell I'm really into Hazbin Hotel rn?? Just binged it and I love it sm!

#agere post #sfw agere #agere community #agere blog #agere #sfw regression #fandom agere #age regressor #age regression #agere sfw #caregiver headcanons #fictional caregiver #caregiver blog #agere imagine #hazbin hotel agere #cg headcanons

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amostimprobabledream · 3 days

Text

Breathe you in like smoke (Dabi x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56030950

He's doing it again.

You don't look up from your phone as you hear it. A breathy, feminine giggle and footsteps. The smell of perfume hits your nose, and you scrunch it on reflex - it's sweet and tangy at first but fades into something acidic and cloying the longer it lingers. And she's put on way too much. Hastily, realising you're wearing your emotions clearly on your face, you smooth out your expression again even though nobody is looking at you and probably don't give a shit what you're thinking.

Dabi leads the girl, who is drunk and giddy, no doubt she either has no idea who he is and just thinks he's a dangerous-looking bad boy. If only she knew just how bad he actually is, she'd likely run out of the place screaming and speed-dialling the cops with a manicured finger. Her footsteps are clumsy as she totters after him, his own footsteps sure and slow on the rickety stairs that lead up to the loft, a room Dabi unilaterally claimed as his own and nobody had either the energy or balls to protest this decision.

Irritation stirs in the pit of your stomach, despite your best efforts to maintain your air of nonchalance on the outside, like you're doing nothing more noteworthy than catching a bus. Dabi does this from time to time, picks up some random who doesn't know or care to know his identity, luring them back to the base for a quickie before unceremoniously booting them out again. You're convinced he has some form of exhibition kink, because he doesn't care to keep the noise down and neither does whoever he's pounding into the mattress. Spinner has complained more than once, but Dabi’s response is simply that he’s jealous his ugly ass could never.

Well, nobody’s ever called Dabi the epitome of tact.

And here you are, steeped in unrequited lust and a considerable amount of frustration as you have to sit and listen to this rigmarole and wishing, just once, that it was you he was leading upstairs.

You’ve honestly no idea if Dabi had an inkling about how you feel about him. You’re not stupid and know that to wear your interest openly will get you nowhere - he held everyone at arm's length, even his own comrades, and his primary concerns are his own goals. The fact your ears always prick whenever you hear the heavy tread of his boots entering a room, or whenever he rasps out one of his sarcastic jabs in response to the group's antics, or the way your skin tingles if he ever accidentally touches you, shoulder skimming yours when you were hunkered down, waiting in alleyways to pounce on unsuspecting victims to rob or worse, a graze of his fingertips if you occasionally requested he light your cigarette for you. His azure eyes seem to see everything, and yet they look through you in a way that makes you want to weep on your weaker days. You can act as uncaring and indifferent as him outwardly, but on the inside? On the inside, it's like your chest is being squeezed by his apathy. Even the littlest approving glance or backhanded compliment can lift your mood like nothing else, whereas one of his cutting remarks will have you picking over the subject of it for days, wondering if you'd slipped even further down in value in his eyes.

You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over and catching it just in time.

"I'm going for a smoke." you announce to nobody in particular.

"Have fun!” Twice says, waving at you like you were about to board a train. "Take a flyin' leap!"

You disappear out the door, passing where Kurogiri and Compress are playing some card game. Strictly speaking, you don't need to go outside to smoke, it isn't like anybody in the League cares about breathing in your secondhand smoke, but you prefer the privacy of smoking outside, just you and your cigarette and your simmering thoughts. People (usually Himiko) bugging you to ask questions while you were trying to get your precious nicotine hit makes you quite homicidal.

Given who you were affiliated with, it’s best not to be seen just casually hanging around on the street corner. So, you round the building and climb up the rusty fire escape, taking care to compensate for the missing rungs of the ladder or patches of rust that will scrape your hands. The stink of rotting garbage is fortunately not as bad as it could be, the wind is blowing the smell in the other direction.

The base’s rooftop is nice and quiet, and you pop a cigarette in your mouth and cup your hand around the end of it to light it, the snick-snick of the wheel grazing your thumb sounding loud in the silence. A spark flares to life and you lean into it, pulling in a lungful of smoke with relief. It settles something in you, smooths over your frazzled nerves like a comforting hand stroking your hair.

As you take the cigarette between your index and middle finger, you hear a noise, and your head turns. It came from the window built into the brickwork.

Like someone driving past a car accident, repelled and fascinated at once, you slip closer. You can't stop yourself, it's as instinctive as breathing, and you suck hard on your cigarette as your eyes take in the tableau before you.

The girl Dabi brought in is on his futon on all fours. Her little strapless dress has been shoved up over her hips, the shiny black material reminding you of an oil spill. Her face is splotchy, and her makeup looks like it made its excuses and left some time ago - there isn't much glitter left on her eyelids and her lipstick is blotted on her lower jaw from sloppy kisses. Behind her is Dabi and you stifle a gasp at the sight. Normally you never see him out of that black duster he seems to have glued to his body, but now?

Now, you're treated to a very different sight indeed. He's shirtless and though his lower half is obscured by the girl, you can see enough. It's surprising how broad his shoulders are - a swimmer's built, broad shoulders, toned arms that taper into a small waist. He's more muscular than you were expecting too, you can see the tendons in his arms flex as he wraps a hand around the back of the girl's neck.

"Stay still,” he orders her in a husky voice that has you stiffening on your rooftop perch, crouched there like a gargoyle.

She’s panting with excitement already and you hear the jingle as he loosens his belt – not even bothering to slide his jeans off, just undoing the fly and unbuttoning them.

You lean closer to the glass, eyes glued to Dabi, watching him with the rapt attention of someone observing a tragedy on the news in real time. His torso is a map of scars, velvety under the moody lighting on his room, yet you’re enraptured by the sight of him, drinking in the sight greedily. After all, who knows when you’ll get a chance to see this again?

Envy tugs at you and you moodily inhale on your cigarette. What the fuck has this woman got that you haven’t, anyway? What makes her so special he’s willing to fuck her and not you? Your eyes narrow into an angry squint, though that’s partly to protect them from the veil of smoke.

“This what you want, huh?” he asks mockingly to the girl, giving her ass a sharp slap that makes her jolt, and ridiculously, you copy the action like her shadow.

“Yes, yes…” she pants, rocking her hips back, like she just can’t wait anymore, her body quivering in excitement. “Please, please fuck me…”

He laughs, and fuck it’s hot, so rough and condescending. He grips her hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh where no doubt there’ll be finger-shaped marks by the time morning comes.

“You dirty slut.”

He doesn’t seem like he minds too much though, and after a moment’s adjustment he’s leaning forward and the girl’s body jerks as he sinks his cock into her – you don’t need to be able to see it from where you are, the look on her face tells you everything you need to know. Her glossy lips drop open, and she throws back her head.

“Oh-! Oh, god!”

“Yeah? That feel good?” he growls.

Yes. You mouth in answer, her response coming out garbled. You glance around – ridiculously, because you’re on the roof and it’s not like anybody can see you, not unless they were flying directly overhead and somehow you think a helicopter or a plane have more important matters to bother with – and slowly undo your own jeans.

Fuck, you really thought you had more dignity than this, touching yourself to the sight of Dabi fucking someone into the mattress, panting and needy and frustrated, but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t want to stop.

Your fingers slip past the flimsy cotton barrier of your panties as you shamelessly ogle the scene below – the woman doesn’t seem to be wearing any herself, so Dabi thrusts into her unimpeded, making a growling sound that tends a shiver through your body. If you close your eyes, you might even be able to trick yourself into thinking his raspy instructions are aimed at you;

“That’s it. Fuckin’ take it.” He demands, slapping her ass again. “S’what you’re here for, isn’t it? To be fucked.”

Oh god. You think to yourself – you’ve always had a bit of a thing for voices and Dabi’s, when he bothers to talk, is nice. Raspy with a hint of a growl, and you’ve seen him use it to shut up an entire room of bickering people before.

“My own little fucktoy.” he says, a bite in his words, but the woman doesn’t seem to care, only her own mounting pleasure is important, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stop yourself from responding verbally to things not aimed at you. If he heard you up here, you’d be utterly mortified.

Yet, the thrill of it, knowing that all he has to do is look up and he’d clearly see you through the skylight, is doing it for you in a way you’ve never experienced before. There’s a power in being an observer somehow, passing judgement while sitting up here, literally above it all. By now your fingers are soaked, and you’re going to have to sneak back to your own room and find some drier underwear to replace these, but right now it feels so good, such a release, that you don’t care. You don’t care about anything except chasing your own high, pulsing heat building in your core as you sink your fingers in deep, shamelessly using your own teammate as visual and audio aid. Your breathing falls in sync with their panting, fogging up the glass.

Hey, if he didn’t want you using his one-night stand to get yourself off, maybe he should keep his voice down and close the fucking blinds in future.

Dabi's really going at it now, grunting with the effort, plowing into her from behind. The dim lighting plays across his muscles and you're tracing each ridge with your eyes, like you're trying to make a mental map of them. The girl beneath him is moaning away like a pornstar, but Dabi seems disconnected from her, his teeth gritted, one hand gripping the back of her neck to hold her in place.

Your hands shake as you thrust your fingers deeper inside yourself, a whimper muffled behind your teeth that sinks into your bottom lip. Your knees are cramping from your crouched position and there’s a cold breeze whipping up between the alleyway below, creating an impromptu wind tunnel, yet all these unpleasant sensations around you, it only heightens the pleasure building in your cunt, heat sending you breathless.

“Oh god, yes, like that!” the woman wails, throwing her head back, and Dabi growls at her to shut up, even though there’s nothing about his tone or actions that imply he mean it.

She’s making such a racket that you can’t help it – when he pushes her head down so she’s practically kissing the mattress, grabbing her hip and lifting them up so he can plunge even deeper into her, you let out a gasp of your own.

“Oh, fuck yes-!”

And then he snaps his head up and locks eyes directly with you.

You can’t even squeak and pull away – his gaze pins you to the spot. Did he know you were there all along? Prickling shame races up and down your limbs, like you’re being jabbed with a cold needle all over.

Oh my god. You think helplessly, heat scorching your cheeks. He is NEVER going to let you live this down, is he?

But then he grins, wide and sharp, and he starts going even faster, hips snapping against the girl’s in a rough, mercilessly rhythm that rachets up her moaning louder and louder, the lewd smack of skin on skin audible beneath it. And all the while Dabi is watching your dumbstruck expression with a savage smile, knowing you’re unable to pull yourself away. Not until he’s done with the both of you.

She cries out in throes of ecstasy, but you can’t move, can’t bring yourself to keep going now you’ve been caught, even if your bottom half isn’t visible through the skylight – he knows what you were just doing and he’s certainly know if you started up again. Instead, you just sit there dumbly, mouth hanging open as you watch him fuck her to orgasm, her body jerking like a marionette with its strings cut. Dabi puts on a show of his own when he comes, clutching the woman’s hips like his own personal stress toy, throwing back his head and arching his back, all sinuous, writhing muscles.

And all the while he watches you from slitted blue eyes, revelling in the flustered, astonished expression on your face. It’s a good look for you, he decides.

When he’s spent, the woman collapses onto her side, panting, and Dabi tucks himself matter-of-factly back into his jeans without an ounce of self-consciousness to be seen.

“We’re done here. Get out.” He orders her in a toneless voice. Talk about wham, bam, but no thank-you ma'am to go with it.

She turns her head to look at him, astonishment and a smidge of indignation writ large on her face.

“What? Seriously? But how am I meant to- “

“I don’t give a shit. Go.”

He stares her down, all insolence, looking at her like she’s nothing, a bug under his shoe. Quite the contrast for someone who was bottoming out inside her but a few moments ago, and you wince slightly at his coldness, despite yourself. The woman backs down immediately, tugging her dress back down and scrambling awkwardly off the futon. Dabi doesn’t even deign to turn his head to watch her go, merely tracking her out of the corner of his eyes as she stuff her feet into her high heels (which she looks like she’s regretting now), and she’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving only a lingering silence and tang of her sickeningly-sweet perfume.

Dabi tilts his head back lazily.

“Having fun up there?” he calls up to you, amusement lacing his words, like it’s all a private joke only he is in on, a smirk widening his scarred mouth. “Fuckin’ pervert.”

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to- “you begin, hearing how defensive and ridiculous you sound – you were literally caught right in the act, yet some remaining shreds of self-preservation insist in the falsehood anyway. And it is true that all you wanted to do was have a smoke in peace, at first.

Your words sputter and die an early death when Dabi cuts you off, a command that you have no choice but to obey, his finger curling in a beckon and his cerulean eyes gleaming with promise.

“You like to watch so much? Then come down here and I’ll give you a real show.”

#Dabi x Reader #My Hero Academia #Fanfiction #Reader Insert #MHA Dabi #Smut

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ihavemanyhusbands · 18 hours

Text

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

Gif by @doortotomorrow

PART TWO: REMINISCING

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

Song inspo (used in chapter): Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado - Eydie Gormé & Trio Los Panchos

WC: 2.8k words

Chapter Summary: Shifting between the past and the present, there are two sides to your relationship with Cooper… even if you’re unaware of who he is now.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, implied mutual pining, slowburn-ish, angst, canon typical violence, abduction (by raiders), swearing, smoking (it was common in hollywood back in the day dont get mad at me), some Spanish dialogue with translations, the ghoul being the ghoul, also reader gets bonked in the head by a raider, let me know if I’m missing anything otherwise!

---------------

In the past….

It was the very last scene of the film.

You and Cooper were riding horses off into the sunset, awash in romantic, golden lighting. He had saved the day, once again, and the girl to boot.

Not that the girl needed any saving, he didn’t think, but you already made that very apparent on screen. He wondered if the writers would ever make a version where you saved him.

“So, your lone ranger days are over, huh?” You asked, glancing at him.

He grunted, a smile starting to pull at his lips. “Can’t say I’ll miss ‘em.”

“That so?” You hummed in thought. “Thinkin’ of settlin’ down, are you?”

“I got my own ranch, if that’s what you’re askin’. But I ain’t retirin’ yet,” he said. “But if you’re askin’ if I’m thinking of going steady with you, well…”

You rolled your eyes playfully, inching your horse closer to his. “Oh come on now, don’t leave a girl in suspense!”

“I wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble if I didn’t want you around, now would I?”

He smiled that dazzling smile of his, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach were genuine.

“Oh, amor mío…”

You pulled him in by his shirt and kissed him to seal the deal. It was sweet, passionate, and full of promise. Cooper’s hands cradled your face gently, and for a moment you forgot you were in the middle of a film shoot.

But when the director called Cut! and the cameras stopped rolling, you pulled away with a laugh.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to use that much tongue, Coop,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“God, the crowds will be scandalized!” He said, not sounding concerned in the slightest. “Here comes Ernie.”

“Electrifying take, you two,” Ernie, the film’s director, said with a little wag of his eyebrows. “But let’s tone it down in this next take, alright? Trying to keep this picture for all audiences.”

“Alright, alright, go get the lady some water, why don’t’cha?” Cooper said, waving him off. “Looking this good on camera all day is tiring.”

You chuckled, bending down as a makeup artist rushed to your side to retouch your powder. A production assistant followed suit, bringing two water bottles for both of you.

You took a long pull from yours, accidentally spilling some down your chin. Cooper’s eyes were momentarily drawn to the thin rivulet of water traveling down your neck as you cleaned up with a handkerchief.

“Say… you didn’t get uncomfortable with the amount of tongue, right?” Cooper asked, averting his gaze and clearing his throat nervously. “I got a little carried away, but I'll keep myself in check from now on…”

“Oh, please, Coop,” you said with an all too casual shrug. “All part of the job. Plus, it wasn’t just you who got carried away.”

He didn’t say anything, taking a sip of water instead. In all the years you’d worked together, he’d cherished your friendship immensely. But he had to admit that having a more intimate knowledge of you made it impossible not to feel the echo of something more. Something he had deeply repressed so as not to acknowledge it.

He was ignorant that you were in the same position, valuing what you had instead of listening to your foolish heart. You’d had a few partners, distractions here and there, but no one ever seemed to be quite right. Better to be alone than to settle for just anyone, right?

“Been meanin’ to tell you,” he said, changing the subject. “Barb’s been askin’ when you’re gonna come over for dinner. Janey misses your arroz con leche.”

Your lips curled up at his accent, which always managed to have the same effect on you. “How about Saturday? I think we’ve got the day off then.”

“That’s perfect.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, as if pretending to share a secret. “Truth be told, I’ve missed it too.”

You shook your head with amusement, those damn butterflies stirring in your stomach once more.

“Back to one now, please!” Ernie called from his chair across the set.

The two of you took your original positions, slipping back almost naturally into the role of lovebirds.

-------------------------------------

The Present…

You were humming to yourself again. An old bolero tune that took him a few notes to recognize.

“Cuando vuelva a tu lado, no me niegues tus besos, que el amor que te he dado, no podrás olvidar.”

(When I’m by your side again, don’t deny me your kisses, for the love I have given you, you won’t be able to forget)

It was the song you’d sang in one of your films, in a scene where he saw you for the first time. A little musical number to show off your skills, your voice. He’d been genuinely hypnotized, he recalled.

The recognition hurt him a surprising amount, and he couldn’t bear to listen anymore.

“Quit it,” he snapped, making you cringe. “You wanna alert others of where we are?”

“S-sorry, just something I do to distract myself…” you said, pursing your lips.

“That’s why they want you in New Vegas?” He asked. “Pretty little songbird of their own?”

“You keep complimenting me while making it sound threatening,” you said before you could think twice about it, immediately wishing you could take it back.

He let out an amused huff. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Charm, alright. You thought as you raised an eyebrow.

“To answer your question… Yeah, that’s exactly why they want me there. Signed the dotted line on that a long, long time ago.”

“And if you don’t make it there?” He asked. “What then?”

You slowed your pace, fearful of what he might be insinuating. “Well… then I guess they would be out of luck, but not money. Washed up movie star like me, I don’t think I’d cost them very much.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much. ‘Round these parts, we only got the past to escape to,” he said with a grunt. “Not to mention, you’re quite easy on the eyes.”

You swallowed hard, face heating up as you glanced back at him over your shoulder. You caught his roguish grin, which only made you even more flustered. The compliment was genuine enough, but you still weren’t sure how to take it.

“And you haven’t even seen me all dolled up,” you joked half heartedly, which prompted him to hum in thought.

And there it was again, that feeling that you were missing a crucial piece of the whole puzzle. There was a certain familiarity to his voice, but maybe you were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“So I am going to make it there, then?” You asked. “I’m sure they’d also repay your kindness if you delivered me relatively unscathed.”

“That’s the plan, sweetheart. Was just makin’ conversation,” he said, but his tone was borderline noncommittal.

You lapsed into silence for a few minutes and stared out at the arid plains endlessly unfurling before you. You passed by a cluster of ruined houses, the wind whistling a melancholic note as it passed through smashed windows and yawning door frames.

Even before the great war, the world was not an easy place to navigate by oneself. Sure, there were plenty more precious commodities, but you never learned all of the rules of life.

Out here, you weren’t sure you’d be able to either, but in a way, it was kind of nice to have a clean slate. If all went well, then maybe you’d make more choices you hadn’t been brave enough to make in the past.

The urge to sing rose within you once again, but you tamped it down.

“It’s ironic,” you found yourself saying, a wry smile pulling at your lips. “I starred in a couple of westerns, but I never thought I’d have to brave the actual desert. Feels like I’m finally living the real deal, in a way.”

“That so?” The ghoul drawled. “You have a thing for cowboys or somethin’?”

“Can’t say I don’t,” you confessed, a shade of nostalgia in your voice. “Or at least I used to, for one in particular.”

This stunned him into momentary silence. Surely, you couldn’t be implying… He shook his head, not letting himself believe it.

To hide his shock, he placed a hand on his chest and pretended to be hurt. “Oh, you wound me. I’d have thought I’d make the cut.”

You chuckled despite yourself, starting to enjoy the strangely easy banter between you. The ghoul certainly was a threatening presence, but so far he had been all bark no bite… with you, at least. Poor Sabinez, who had been in your nightmares a few times, would definitely disagree.

You didn’t really need to ask why the ghoul had killed him, having gone to collect the bounty with him, but it wouldn’t have been worth it, anyway. He had a bit of a temper and not much patience to boot, so you knew you had to tread carefully.

You definitely had to stay on his good side. It was a matter of life and death, at that point. But luckily for you, he had moments like this, where he was almost friendly, in his own way. It’d be easier to cling on to those while traveling with him.

As the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, he led you to a small cluster of rundown houses. He checked each to find just the right one, nestled among the others, and made sure there were no unwanted visitors.

You set your stuff down and slumped down on top of a broken side table, taking off your scarf and drinking water from your canteen. The ghoul watched you, something old and buried within him threatening to rise to the surface. You really hadn’t changed, but that shouldn’t surprise him.

“Alright, Toots, now you jus’ stay put while I go scope the area,” he said, needing some time away to think.

“But we–”

“No,” he interrupted, giving you a pointed look. “I know you’re smarter than that, now. Let me do what I need to do, or I’ll make you stay put.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. He let out a satisfied grunt and left without another word, the soft clink of his spurs soon turning into silence.

With a tired sigh, you pushed yourself off the side table and tried to figure out where the best spot to sleep was.

As it grew darker and you ran out of things to occupy yourself with, you went outside to get a good view of the sunset. You didn’t stray too far from the house just in case, but it was nice to get some fresh air.

You didn’t know how long he would be gone for, but you felt relatively safe in total solitude. You let yourself sing then, another soft bolero tune that you had always liked. You lost yourself in the threads of time as you imagined the accompanying instruments, unsure if you would ever hear them again.

But suddenly, rough arms enveloped your midsection, and a gruff voice you didn’t recognize was in your ear.

“Gotcha.”

You tried to twist around, but the grip was too strong. You kicked your legs as he easily picked you up, your eyes wide and afraid, brain scrambling for a solution.

The raider laughed, turning to yell over his shoulder. “Hey, boys! Look what I’ve found!”

Raiders, you realized, ice pooling in your gut. He smelled foul and his makeshift pieces of armor dug painfully against you. He tried to move your head to the side to get a better look at you, but you bit his hand, hard.

He growled with pain, yanking his hand away. “Fucking bitch.”

He hit you on the side of the head and you slumped in his grip, half conscious. Stars pinwheeled in your vision as you heard others approaching, and he tossed you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“Thinking we could get a good price outta this one,” the raider said. “Mint condition, too. Just gotta keep her in check.”

“Got a pretty voice, too. Called us right here like a siren,” another raider said. “Maybe she can keep us entertained for a few days before we sell her.”

Your dread only deepend. The ghoul specifically told you not to sing, hadn’t he? And now you couldn’t even yell for help. Stupid, so stupid!

A gunshot rang out, hitting the wall inches away from the raider carrying you. They all jumped to attention, hands flying towards their weapons.

“You fellas better stay where you are if you wanna keep your fuckin’ heads,” you heard the ghoul’s voice, tight with rage, in the near distance.

“Oh shit, we’ve got company, we better go,” he said, your body jostling as they started to move. “Shoot it back!”

More gunshots followed as you swam in and out of consciousness, everything moving too quickly. One of the raiders yelped before collapsing heavily, most likely dead.

You begged and prayed that the ghoul would come out of this relatively unscathed — he was your only hope for salvation, after all.

Behind you, he screamed your name, but you couldn’t recall having ever told him.

—----------------------------------

The Past….

Truth be told, wrap parties weren’t always your favorite events. But this time, it was at Cooper and Barb’s house, so it wouldn’t be all bad.

You posed for paparazzi at the front door before making your way inside. The party was in full swing, Hollywood’s elite mingling all around the place. Music softly drifted out of unseen speakers, almost drowned out by the din of various voices.

You took a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter, searching for the hosts. You stopped a couple times to exchange a few words with some producers you knew, but then you spotted Cooper coming down the stairs, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Got another one of those?” You said when you finally reached him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He took out his silver case and offered it to you. You brought the cigarette to your lips and he immediately lit it for you, covertly taking you in. You wore a beautiful sequin evening dress, which sparkled under the light of the chandelier. Your perfume was heady and sweet, lingering in his nostrils. Your red lipstick left a mark on the filter as you exhaled a plume of smoke, smiling at him.

“Great party,” you said. “Congratulations on the new picture, Coop. Can’t wait to see it.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have thrown one at all, but Barb wanted me to meet some of her colleagues.”

“Oh, Vault-Tec people are here?” you asked, looking around. “You just did a commercial for them, too, right?”

“Yup,” he sighed, voice lowering. “Lost myself another gig because of it.”

You hummed in thought and took another drag of your cigarette, unsure of what to say. You didn’t altogether trust Vault-Tec, perturbed by the way they were trying to make a profit off potential doom.

Still, you didn’t really know of any good alternatives for survival, if that day were to come. The government didn’t seem too concerned about it, after all.

“You probably think I’m a sell out,” he said, misinterpreting your silence. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not it. You’ve got a family to take care of, Coop. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

He nodded somberly, nursing his scotch. “You thinking of joining one of the vaults?”

“I’ve been made an offer,” you said vaguely, not wanting to think too much about the details. “Thinking it would be smart to take it.”

“We can talk to Barb, maybe they’ll put us all in the same one. Hell, we could even be neighbors,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Perks of being married to one of the higher ups, right?”

“I sure would like that,” you said, ever so slightly relieved at the notion of there being some familiar faces if the apocalypse came. “But enough of that for now. How about we take a lap, show some face, and maybe you can retire from your movie star duties early? I’d also like to congratulate Barb for being such a stellar hostess.”

His shoulders relaxed some, and his smile was more genuine this time. “Oh, you’re heaven-sent. That’s a genius plan, let’s do it.”

He offered you his arm and you took it, holding your dress with your other hand as you descended the steps into the living room. You could tell people would immediately swarm over to you like sharks, and you knew you were in for a long night.

“Don’t count your blessings yet,” you said with a wry smile, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve still gotta make it to the other side.”

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#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul fanfiction #mini series #cooper howard #the ghoul

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cyren-myadd · 18 hours

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GIRL WHAT??? WHERE IS THIS??? DID I MISS SOMETHING OMG IM SO LOST HELP

girl you missed a lot of somethings! But it's cool, I'll catch you up to speed on all the leaks. It's a little late at this point, but 🚨SPOILER WARNING FOR AVATAR 3🚨

Varang using kuru mind-control: @spider-socorro-stan was able to make out some of the very blurry writing on this script page that was accidentally shown in BTS footage. As far as they could tell, the first line says "Varang wills Quaritch's arm to... bulging, as his hand opens and he..." which makes it sound like she's controlling him somehow. This led people to speculate that Varang might use tsaheylu to control others. Out of all the "spoilers," this one has the least amount of evidence supporting it so take it with a grain of salt.

2. Norm taken prisoner by the RDA: in this BTS image, two Na'vi in Ash attire stand with another Na'vi wearing an orange prison jumpsuit in the RDA control room. A lot of people believe that it's Quaritch and Wainfleet taking Norm prisoner.

3. Neytiri also in Ash People clothing: in this BTS image, Jake stands next to a Na'vi woman wearing Ash People attire, with Spider wearing... whatever the fuck that jumpsuit thing is in the background. It's hard to tell with her face hidden, but most people think the woman is Neytiri based off her height, build, and proximity to Jake.

4. The betabridge: this is the spoiler we have the least information about. According to the leaked script, right after Jake and Quaritch have their civil conversation while Spider is breathing the air, Quaritch leaves them (probably scared cause Neytiri showed up lmao) and flies back to Bridgehead with Wainfleet. There, they witness a massive machine that looks like "an oil rig crossed with a nuclear reactor." It lets out a loud noise and Wainfleet remarks that it is working now. We have no other information on what the Betabridge is other than what it looks like, but if it was built in Bridgehead, it can't be good for the Na'vi. Here is a transcript written by twitterX user AkumuHoshi based on what they could read:

@spider-socorro-stan also has a nice guide to all the script leaks pinned on their blog if you want to read more!

#avatar #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 3 #avatar spoilers #varang #miles quaritch #spider socorro #neytiri sully #avatar jake sully #jake sully #avatar neytiri #atwow spider #atwow quaritch #cyren myadd theorizes #norm spellman #lyle wainfleet #james cameron

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nyxronomicon · 2 days

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🍉 sponsor a fic for gaza 🍉

hey y'all! I decided to offer some of my favorite WIPs up for sponsorship as part of the @ficsforgaza campaign.

🔞 these fics and my blog are all 18+ and include smut and dark themes. minors DNI 🔞

to sponsor a fic, you can make a donation to the vetted charity of your choice. then, send a screenshot to me (feel free to block out personal info! I just need the amount and the charity visible) and let me know which fic you'd like it to go towards!

you can either send these in an ask or dm my main blog @vampnyx (sorry I can't turn dms on here lol)

not sure where to donate? gaza funds picks a random vetted gofundme each time you click the page. prefer a charity? I've donated to Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

for every $1 donated, I will add 100 words to the sponsored fic. for donations $5 or more, I can incorporate a kink of your choice into the fic (see my list of preferred kinks on my pinned).

salvation | suguru geto x f!reader (series masterlist)

Nearly a year and a half after your divorce, Suguru Geto still texts you. You stopped responding after he told you the ridiculous lie that he was a priest a year ago. When he sends a picture of himself in his priest robes, you feel a little guilty about ignoring him all this time. cw: dub-con (coersion), manipulation, others listed on the series masterlist. (sponsorship going towards the final two chapters of the series) words sponsored: 0/4000

thank you for the venom | toji fushiguro x f!reader

years of cheating and verbal abuse pushes you to murder your rich husband, satoru gojo. finishing a lovely dinner with him slumped over the table, you're surprised when toji shows up in your dining room to assassinate him, only to find him dead already. He offers to clean up your mess, but not for free. cw: reader kills her husband (poison), knife play (no cutting just a bit of danger), manhandling, toji physically restrains reader, other cw tbd words written: 1.1k of 2k-ish words sponsored: 0/1000

paperwork | enji todoroki x f!reader

you've been endeavor's secretary for years, and even though he's recently been named number one pro hero after all might's retirement, it seems his life is falling apart. though you've mutually pined for each other over the years, it never went anywhere. that is, until you accidentally mention that enji has always been your number one hero. cw: implied age difference, porn w plot, angst, power dynamic (enji's your boss lol), size (emphasis on him being large lol), other cw tbd words written: 1.5k of 2.5-3k words sponsored: 0/1500

blissful nightmare | death meme!Gallagher x f!reader

au based on the idea that gallagher transforms into the death meme werewolf-style. you talk your favorite bartender, gallagher, into taking you deeper into the dreamscape. the veil keeping gallagher in his human form becomes harder for him to control the deeper he goes, but his lust for you has him diving into that abyss after you. cw: monsterfucking, horror themes, rough sex, claws, heat cycle will be a revised and lengthened version of this words sponsored: 0/2000

fushiguro step.cest au | step.dad!toji / step.bro!megumi x f!reader

for this one I'm doing something a little different. here's the au so far: step.dad!toji | step.bro!megumi toji can't keep his hands off you (obviously) even in public. even in front of his son, though he tries to be discreet he's rarely successful. and of course, there are always consequences when you mess with megumi... cw: step.cest!!, megumi is ROUGH, cucking, maybe public/risky location, brat taming (from megumi), other cw tbd I'm allowing a vote per dollar spent on how many words I will use on each character's respective sex scenes, to a 2k total word max. If you'd like to sponsor this one, please let me know how you'd like to distribute your votes! words for megumi: 0 words for toji: 0 total words sponsored: 0/2000

I have many WIPs so it's likely as I finish these I may swap in others. if you've seen me talking about a WIP you may be interested in sponsoring, let me know! I'm happy to open up other WIPs in the interest of supporting Palestine!!

posts about this (not the completed fics) will be tagged #nyx writes for gaza

#truly just a collection of the fics i want to write the most lol #nyx writes for gaza #sorry for censoring the step.cest like that but i don't want filters to catch it in this case lol. i will not do it again #in the future they will be tagged as usual!#fics for gaza

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faery-the-diamond · 3 days

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hello :)

for crownbert: how's sleeping inside the crown? is it just like regular sleeping or is it different somehow, like deeper or something?

for narinder: on crusades (or anywhere really), do you have a specific style of fighting (like more reliant on strength, speed, grace, dodging, etc), or do you just do whatever gets the job done?

Lambert: Well, it's mostly similar to a regular sleep... Except the times when that can accidentally lead to you suddenly finding yourself inside the Crown's dimension.

--------------

Narinder: Mmm, well, I prefer to keep a certain amount of distance with my enemies. Mostly attacking them with spells and occasionally hitting them up close in a surprise attack. Gives more chances for not getting hit.

#cult of the lamb #mercy gone wrong

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bluishfrog · 12 days

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Inspired by "let's make this night last forever" by alisonsomething and dizzy (@alittledizzy)

Fic Art Friday - event tag - event description

#wanted to try something a little different from my usual style :D so I put them in a box (like making the area small around them you know?)#and yes I gave them socks cause I couldn't figure out how to draw feet lol #fic art friday #bluishfrog art #dnf fanart #dream fanart #georgenotfound fanart #dreamnotfound #I had this post in my drafts for about a week and the amount of times I nearly accidentally posted it is uncomfortably high

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merriclo · 1 year

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i see and respect your “Wild is an arsonist who burns forests down” joke, but i raise you the ever funnier “Wild is a huge wildlife conservationist and will personally fight anyone who dares to set it ablaze (aka almost every single other Link)” joke

#this post is sponsored by the immense amount of guilt i experience whenever i accidentally light the forests on fire in botw #wild in his smokey the best arc #guys who else are wildlife conservationists #maybe time bc he grew up kokiric? he’d have lots of respect for the forest #sky? maybe that’s just for the birds tho lmao #definitely not twilight aka ‘let me burn down a bomb storage building’#anywho i think it’s just so funny to have the link with the easiest access to fire be completely again using it regularly #like yeah he’ll use it for a puzzle and to get places #but he’ll do his due diligence in making sure it’s contained and won’t harm anything #obviously this is just a headcanon and i don’t mind any fire loving characterizations of wild #i just think wild tackling legend bc he was going to light something on fire is funny as shit #linked universe #lu #wild lu #lu wild #wild linked universe #linked universe wild #is there anything in canon that says wild burns down forests or something #idk i have a bad memory

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lunasky2491 · 11 days

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welldone nemo 👏

went out in a smash didn’t you, you as well as your trophy

lmaooo

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amethystina · 2 months

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Hey! That ask you answered about protective Yo Han reminded me of this gem from the script book. I don't know if you're interested in anything script-related, but in case you are, here it is. A slightly different way the scene in E3 was supposed to go, when Yo Han came to the factory and attacked the man who put a bomb in the painting. (Also, 'forced' means 'Yo Han', all translators use this word instead of his name for some reason).

Personally, I loved the "do you know who you hurt?", the madness "increasingly" filling Yo Han's eyes, and him glaring at K when he asked if this was about Ga On. I'm amazed that he got so protective of him so quickly, it's just E3. To think of what he'd do post-canon... thank God (and you, of course!) for your amazing story. I can't tell you how much I'm waiting for everything you're going to bring down on us.

Hope you're doing better!

I haven't gone out of my way to look for the script, no, but I do read the little snippets I might run into on Tumblr and such. So I'm not NOT interested? But also too lazy to go look for it xD

And, tbh, I don't want to accidentally mistake something that was written in the script — but then taken out — as something that actually happened in canon. I have a really good memory but I don't always remember WHERE I read/saw/heard a specific fact so there's a chance I might mistake it as a part of canon even if it's not x'D

But, all that said, I am FASCINATED by this new information, not going to lie. I think that the increasing madness was still captured pretty well in the final version, but the "Do you know who you hurt?" Oh yes, I'm into that. Because while it COULD still just mean that Yo Han is referring to himself, I like that it leaves room for speculation. Very nice.

Though, at the same time, I feel like I have to be a responsible person and point out that, most likely, the reason why Yo Han reacts so violently as early as episode 3 is probably because of Isaac, not Ga On. Like, at that point, I think Yo Han is still struggling a bit with separating the two. Not that he ever mistakes them for each other, obviously, but it's probably a little disorienting until he gets to know Ga On better and can see all the differences more clearly. So it wouldn't surprise me if some of that protectiveness is because Ga On looks like Isaac, at least this early. It brings back very bad memories, and all.

But post-canon? That protectiveness would be for Ga On only. And, as always, Yo Han would hold nothing back.

And we will be exploring that a bit in Who Holds the Devil, yes. Not quite on the level of "I'm going to bring the entire country to its knees," but hopefully still enough to satisfy everyone's need for protective Yo Han ;)

Thank you so much for sending me this! I hope you have a wonderful evening 💜

#Amethystina Replies #k-s-morgan #The Devil Judge #I know it might sound weird that I want to limit the amount of information I have #It's usually the other way around #But I soak up facts like a sponge #But as mentioned don't always know where I got it from #And it can get muddled pretty quickly #Which is also one of the reasons why I'm not really reading any fics #Because I might accidentally steal something from someone else #Like an impression or an idea or a characterisation detail #So I limit it as best I can #Not that I run in the other direction if I happen to stumble over something #But I don't go searching for it either #It's better if it's just me and canon #My brain will do the rest xD

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