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toxicanonymity · 6 months

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Midnight Snack.

3.4k slasher!Joel x f!reader

slasher Joel master list | spotify slaylist SUMMARY: Joel has dinner at his Mom’s house, then pays you a visit. A/N: Shoutout to @iamasaddie for the master list mood board magnets, @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the.edit, fridge magnet anon ask, @thesummerpetrichor , anyone I'm forgetting? WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe p in v, creampie, light somnophilia, choking, degradation, home intrusion, manual restraint, spitting, toxic parental issues, angst/insecurity, changes POV, NO Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. .He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily. He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. . . Over a long moment of silence, a charge passes between your eyes and his. He tilts his head, wets his lips, and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm. . .

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midnight snack

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“I said I’m good, Ma,” Joel grumbles as his mom puts another heaping spatula of casserole on his plate anyway. He sighs and pushes it around with his fork.

“What’s got ya down, hun?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s a girl, ain’t it?” She smiles. “Knew it. Last time you were here, ya had that glow," she nods, then registers his sullen face again. "It's okay, hun. Whatever it is, you'll work it out.".

He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he was there. When he drives, when he showers, when he goes to bed, when he jacks off—he sees the desire in your eyes when you’re pinned against the counter. He sees your dripping hole stretched around his fist. He thinks about you every time he uses his wrench. Still smells like your filthy cunt.

"Tell me 'bout her,” his mom urges.

“Can't,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t got a girl.”

His mom looks at him knowingly. She always sees right through him. He doesn’t like how close they are, but in a way, she’s his only friend. He fails to suppress a little smile, then looks down shyly at his plate and finally takes a bite.

She asks, “How’d ya meet?”

Joel gives her a half-serious cautionary look and keeps chewing.

“Work?” his mom prods.

Joel swallows, nods, and takes a sip of milk. “Gave'r a ride.” Two rides, really. Although you took the second one all on your own. And damn, it was good. He shifts in his seat.

“Well, great,” his mom lights up. “When ya gonna see her again?” She dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up.

“I dunno, Ma. . .She’s too good for me.”

She huffs, adjusts her glasses, then walks over. She playfully whips him on the shoulder with the fabric napkin, then puts her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that. No one’s too good for my boy.” She takes his glass to the kitchen and pours him some more milk, then sits back down at the table.

“already left me once,” Joel grumbles.

His Mom’s face falls, then sours.

“Then she’s not worth your time." She scoffs. Or anyone else’s."

“She’s different, Ma," he mutters deadpan, then quieter, he adds, "Sometimes I think she likes me," with the slightest lift of his brow.

Mrs. Miller's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Well, she should!"

"'mixed signals." He’s saying too much, but he can’t stop. It’s not like he has anyone else to talk to.

"Bring'er for dinner," she suggests.

"Ain't like that," he sulks. "We don't-" He cuts himself off and sighs, sitting back in his chair. He puts his napkin on his plate. "Shouldn't'a mentioned it," he mumbles.

His mom reaches across the table for his hand, and he gives it to her. He looks at the delicate, paper-thin skin covering the veins on her hand. It makes him sad. He wants to bring a girl home. He wants to make his Mom happy. He doesn't come by enough. She must be so lonely. And he's the one who. . .no, his father deserved it, he reminds himself for the millionth time in his life. He didn’t love them, his mom said. Resentment begins to overtake his guilt. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for her. He steels himself and decides to feel nothing.

"Look at me, Joel." She looks him in the eye. "You're not gonna get a wife like this, honey." Joel swallows and looks down. She continues, "Don't be a quitter. She's yours if you want her." Don’t be a quitter.

The buzzer for the laundry goes off. Mrs. Miller starts to head to the laundry room, but Joel stops her. "Feel like a loser when ya do my laundry."

She shakes her head in disapproval and starts clearing the table instead. "My son. . .” she picks up both their plates. ". . .Is not a loser."

Joel finishes his laundry, watches some tv with her while she knits, then pulls himself away. His Mom sends him on his way with an old tupperware of casserole. "Go get her," she tells him with a wink.

—-

He wants to make a move. He wants to fuck you again, but he isn’t sure how. How do people do it? He doesn't know how to ask you out, or what you'd do together. Every time he thinks about it, he feels stupid, but he does wanna see you. He wants to be inside you. He wants to make you purr, little sex kitten.

At this hour, you’re probably out whoring, but he might as well drive by while he’s close. All your lights are off, but your car is there. Hmm. He can't bring himself to go home. Don’t be a quitter. He sits in his car at the end of your street. Last time he came over, it went pretty well. You wanted him to fuck you, and he did. You wanted more, and he gave you more. Then he left before you could leave him.

He feels like you’re special, but he really only knows a few things about you. Most importantly, you like the danger, you want the thrill, you want his dick, and you sure can take a cock.

The only thing he can think to do is give you more of what he knows you want. Even if you're asleep, you'll be purring for it as soon as he drags you out of bed and pins you on the floor. He pictures a knife at your throat. Not a big one, just his switchblade.

He gets out of his car and adjusts his balls, spreading his feet for a moment. Then he starts walking to your house. After a few seconds, he goes back to his car for the casserole. Maybe you'll have a midnight snack after he stuffs you full of his cock. He rolls his eyes at himself. That’s stupid.

—-

There's a lamp with a dying bulb barely flickering on your back patio with a couple of moths fluttering wildly around it. Joel looks into your dark kitchen and scowls at his reflection in the glass. He holds the Tupperware under his elbow and picks the lock with ease. After stepping into your kitchen, he quietly slides the door shut behind him. His boots thud stickily as he takes his first steps on the linoleum. Do you ever mop? He holds his switchblade open in the air. He’s headed toward the hall where he expects your bedroom is. He inches through the kitchen--between the counter on his left and the stove on his right, until he gets to your fridge.

The surface of the fridge is peppered with magnets--souvenirs, letters of the alphabet, bottle openers. It's silly. But a piece of paper catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks. It's pinned to the fridge by a "J," and an "X" and an "O." He blinks and squints, but his eyes don't deceive him. It's his drawing of you, legs spread wide open. His chest flutters looking at his sketch of your cunt hung proudly on your fridge. His dick twitches, and he inhales sharply. His mouth is watering. He dips the tip of his thick pinky between his lips and dribbles a string of saliva on the paper, right between your legs. He tilts his head and admires the way your graphite cunt glistens.

You want him. You really want him. His body relaxes. He closes and pockets his switchblade. He opens the fridge as quietly as possible and puts the casserole on the top shelf, pausing to survey the scant contents. Mostly condiments. Takeout containers. Beer. Expired orange juice. He closes the fridge.

The microwave is hanging down from a cabinet to his left. He steps in front of it and bends his knees enough to push back his hair in the reflection. He stands up again, squares his shoulders, then prowls in silence to your bedroom.

---

The door is open. Of course it is. You want him. His boots are quieter on your carpet. He approaches the foot of your bed but doesn't get closer. You're occupying less than half the bed. You're just as pretty in your sleep. All bundled up. He knew that already. He gets harder, recalling the time he woke you up with his cock inside you. God, you're sexy. How'd he get so lucky that a hot little slut like you wants him so bad?

He goes to the other side of your bed. His side. There’s a chair full of dirty clothes. He sits down on them and takes off his boots. He stands up again and lowers the zipper of his jumpsuit, pressing down on his bulge to get the zipper over it without snagging. Then he peels the sleeves off and brings it down over his ass and meaty thighs. He lets it pool at his feet and steps out of it.

He's left wearing a blue soft wash t-shirt, lighter blue striped boxers, and white socks with holes. He takes those socks off too. He approaches your bed, lifts the covers with care, and sees what you're wearing. You're wearing the shirt–he recognizes its condition. God damn, you really do want him.

Joel gradually lets his weight onto your mattress as he slips under the covers. His heart races and his forehead is damp. His cock is so hard just from being close to you. He lies there perfectly still on his side for a moment, watching your back as you breathe. Then he scoots forward, inch by inch, until his leg hair brushes your bare legs and you jerk in your sleep.

"Shhh. It's just me," he whispers as he wraps his hulking arm over you. He spoons you and lightly presses his hard cock against your ass. You moan in your sleep and push back, then he moans.

You jerk in your sleep again, but this time you don't relax. You startle awake. You gasp and whimper. Your limbs thrash, and his arm tightens around you. You squeal, and his massive hand covers your mouth. He wasn't expecting your feisty side, kitten. He came to give you what you want.

Why don’t you want him anymore?

-----you-----

Pure instinct kicks in when you wake up with someone in your bed. Your heart is pounding, you thrash and kick with all your might trying to get away. He covers your mouth and repeats “It’s me, sweetheart. God damn.” He sounds confused and irritated at your reaction. His voice is familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it, despite thinking about him all the time in waking life. It's like your subconscious hasn't caught up with reality, and can you blame it?

"Would you stop? Damn," he pants, getting more irritated as you continue to struggle and his arm tightens more, compressing your chest. What did he expect breaking into your house and getting into your bed?

You feel his hard dick press against your loose sleep shorts and get butterflies in your core, even as you continue struggling. He backs up for a moment and the pull of his arm forces you onto your back. He pins you with his left forearm on your chest and aggressively yanks down your shorts then kicks them all the way off before getting between your legs. His hard cock lays against your clit, separated only by his boxers, and you're throbbing. Your efforts to free yourself get weaker and weaker until you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily.

He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. He presses his cock against your mound again. Over a long moment of silence, an electric charge passes between your eyes and his. He slightly tilts his head and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm as you pull him down, drawing his face to yours.

Your mouths meet but don't seal, and you find your lips reaching for his, wanting something to hold, something to suck–but he devours you without granting you any bit of control. You whimper as he kisses you hungrily, hard cock throbbing against your aching clit. He kisses you sloppily, biting your lower lip, dragging his tongue across it to the corner where he pauses and presses his teeth into your cheek and grunts with a slow thrust against you. Then he drags his lips and tongue down your jaw as you tilt your chin up.

He latches onto your neck with an "mm" and his hips begin to grind his thick erection against you at a slow rhythm. He grunts and his breath is humid with a moan against your neck before he latches onto it again. You feel the delicate skin bruising under his mouth while your pussy is gushing wet. You tilt your hips and wrap a leg around him. He groans at your slick, throbbing cunt against his cock.

He murmurs into your neck, “God damn, you’re a slut for my cock,” then chuckles. “Aren’t ya, kitten?”

He lifts his pelvis off you to massage your cunt aggressively with his hand. You whine and he gives a low whistle. Then he urgently takes his boxers down and you help him, curling a toe into the waistband once his boxers get down to his thighs. You drag your foot down between his legs to his feet, taking his boxers with you. . He kicks them off the rest of the way. Before he lays his hips back into you, you reach for his balls, longing to feel the heft of them. It sends a bolt of desire through you. Fuck.

"What's wrong with you?" You ask, but you're really asking yourself. You’re asking yourself why you've got this sicko in your bed, someone unhinged enough to break into your house not once but twice and all you want is his cock.

"Me?" He asks. "the fuck is wrong with you?" He wraps a hand around your throat. “Playin’ games with me,” he growls bitterly. “Ya want it, ya don't, ya want it–” you cough under his grip as he reads your eyes, then he whispers, "want it" with a small nod, and takes his hand away.

He notches his tip at your entrance then breathes, "don't ya?--uggghh" As he shoves into you. “Want it, you’ll get it,” he pants as his cock parts your walls. His cock spreads you wide open as he gives you his full length, and you gasp as he bottoms out. He withdraws a few inches and hangs his head to watch you swallow him back up.

"God damn," he murmurs. "Forgot how tight ya were before." Your clit twitches at the thought of the wrench.

Then his eyes come to your chest and the ripped shirt he gave you. He moans at the sight of your nipple poking through one of the slashes and he covers it with his mouth as he fucks you. His wide tongue drags under your nipple and wets the curled edges of the slash in the shirt before his lips seal around your nipple. He brings his hips back and pushes into you again, sucking and moaning into your tit. Your eyes fixate on his triceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves and that’s the first time it hits you that he was already in sleepwear. He undressed and got in bed with you. God, he’s weird. And you. You're. . . You don't know, but your hands are gliding on their own over his muscular back, feeling him flex as he pounds you.

You find your fingers curling under the bottom hem of his shirt and he reaches one hand behind his back to help you remove it. You can't see much, but when the angle shifts, the moonlight catches enough to tell you his body has really been through it. When his head dips to your neck again you watch his hulking back muscles and see lines whiter than his skin. At least a dozen, overlapping lashes. You run your hand over it and the slight change in texture makes you wince with the confirmation. No telling how old they are.

On his front, there’s a short straight line near his shoulder and a longer, thinner one on his side, curving around near his v muscle. Your thumb drifts to that one. Joel shivers at the touch, then slams his hips into you harder. You quickly abandon it, sliding your hand up his side, then to his pec. A wicked smile spreads across half his face as your hand runs across his chest. "Y'ain't scared, are ya?" He asks, breathing heavily with his cock dragging heavily in your dripping wet cunt.

“No.” You thumb his nipple.

He lowers himself and lets the weight of his middle onto you with a sigh, still railing his length into you. You wrap both legs around him, and he breathes "yeah, mmmgg baby, yeah" as he fucks you deeper.

Your nipples go fully erect. "Fuck," he breathes when he feels them. He grinds against your clit as he fucks you, and you feel a climax looming. The thought crosses your mind whether he's going to kill you one of these days and your chest erupts in goosebumps. Your face feels cold.

As though reading your mind, he says, “don’t whore around on me” He reads your eyes then adds, "n' you'll be fine," with a small nod, a brief smile, and harsh thrust.

You can't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it. The implied monogamy–on your side, at least. When he registers your amusement, his smile fades into a scowl and his eyes turn black. He grabs your jaw, squeezes it open, and spits in your mouth. He grabs your hand off his chest and pins both your wrists harshly above you, holding them there with one massive hand as he fucks you harder, angrier. He looks down where your bodies meet, and he watches you take his cock again, breathing heavily, sighing and moaning.

Eventually his sour mood subsides, replaced by renewed marvel at your body. "Sure can take a dick." Your hips lift into him, seeking more pressure for your clit, near the edge. "Didn't bring my wrench." He glances around your bedroom. You moan at the thought of him shoving something inside you. Your walls twitch, and the deep groan that leaves his mouth is too much. You grab his ass and pull him deeper using your hands and your legs.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, and a new softness spreads across his face.

His mouth falls open and he whispers, "yeah, sweetheart." You bite your lip and groan as a huge orgasm seizes you. "Yeah," he whispers and his eyes map your face as your walls clench around him. "oh fuck," he pants as you cum on his cock. "Fuck," he breathes again, "fuckin love this cunt," he looks you in the eye. "Ohhhh," he groans and begins to pulse inside you. He lowers his face to your neck again and you keep cumming, your body jerking into his. "Yeah, fuck," he manages into your neck as his balls empty into you. "Mmmmm" he thrusts slowly one more time like he can hardly stand the pleasure.

He pushes himself back up to look at you and shudders as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

"'s'okay," he whispers and brushes your temple with his thumb. “ruin ya in the mornin'” In the morning? He wants to stay over? "God you're hot," he chuckles, cock still inside you. After a long moment of silence, he slides his cock out of you and you wince at the void. He lays on his stomach and drapes his arm over you. Your heart races and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it. You don’t want him in your bed right now. He's a novelty and he has to stay that way. Yeah it was fun, it’s been fun. It’s fun. You have his stupid drawing on your fridge, like a wild memory, a souvenir. But this. . . this is unsettling.

You can't get attached to this sicko. But you know better than to try to make him leave. He gets that look in his eye sometimes, and you just don’t know. You take deep breaths and try to plot how you’ll get out of this in the morning. You can say you have to work. Yeah, you’ll say you have to work. Eventually, you drift off under the weight of his arm.

------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys.

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hells-wasabii · 1 month

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How would each of the Hell characters(Hotel group, Lucifer, Overlords, Vees) do while cooking entirely on their own? Can be platonic or romantic, whichever you want

A/N: So I know I said 2, but the other one isn’t ready yet I’m still writing it. It’s gonna be pretty big too since it’s that velvette part 2. But I had to get my cat spayed today so I’ve been super busy all day keeping her out of trouble and from hurting herself :/ but anywho, enjoy!

Characters: All that I write for

Type: Hesdcanons (hazbin cast cooking headcanons)

Charlie

With Charlie, I’m a little torn. On the one hand, she’s a princess, so cooking would likely be more of a novelty considering she likely had staff to do it for her. But this is Charlie we’re talking about. She would go out of her way to learn how to cook. Wouldn’t give up either, not until she could do it on her own. I would imagine that she started learning from Vaggie and reading cookbooks.

Vaggie

When it comes to Vaggie, she can cook some, but she’s definitely super humble about it, brushing off any compliments because it’s ‘just food’. If the issue is pressed I can see her getting a little embarrassed about it. It’s mostly dishes that she had been taught while she was growing up, along with basic dishes that don’t necessarily require a honed skill to make.

Angel

Angel can cook, though he doesn’t exactly put much effort into it. I can definitely see him just throwing something together so he can eat and move on with whatever else he has going. Baking is a different story. I can really imagine while he was growing up he would sneak his way into the kitchen while his mother and Molly were baking. He picked it up pretty easily. And as someone who enjoys baking let me just say that his extra set of arms would be so helpful.

Husk

Husk was an entertainer in life, growing up in a casino, learning the trades in the house. That also includes the kitchens. Sure he likely didn’t spend a whole lot of time there but he still picked up a thing or two. So he’d be able to hold his own fairly well when it comes to making a homecooked meal.

Alastor

While it’s canon that the radio demon can cook, I feel like he specifically likes to cook recipes his mother left behind. Cooking recipes from his youth reminds him of joining his mother in the kitchen whipping something up for lunch and helping her prep for dinner. He’s not all that adventurous in the kitchen, though. He likes to stick with what he knows and what he grew up with.

Niffty

Having died in the 50s as a young housewife, I genuinely believe that she at least knows some fad recipes, like those salads and casserole recipes. Jello molds too. But that’s not to say that she wouldn’t know some basic stuff. I can definitely see Niffty being the type to try to create whole new recipes with varying, mostly horrifying results.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is a genius, there’s no doubt about that, but the man can’t cook. At all. He’d burn water honestly. But baking? Oh yeah, he can bake with out a doubt(but not necessarily the decorating part), it’s basically science, but not cook. He’d quite honestly have the Egg Bois help, but let’s be honest here, that’d be a disaster too.

Cherri Bomb

I’ll admit, I wasn’t to sure about Cherri. She just doesn’t seem like the type to cook. Nah. Cherri is the queen of takeout. She can boil water but that’s really about it. Honestly, she’s only really a couple of steps above Sir Pentious, but she can’t bake either. Sometimes though, before Angel went off to the hotel, she would go out and buy ingredients and stuff and go to his apartment and they (he) would make something.

Vox

This man absolutely can cook, and he’s pretty damn good at it too. Considering he’s the television demon, he’s going to have several cooking shows. Hell, he even stars in a couple of them. That being said, he’s not one to do things half-assed. Sure, a lot of cooking shows have stuff that was prepared beforehand, but with Vox’s he goes out of his way to actually make the dishes in real time.

Valentino

I stand by my headcanons from my Valentino posts. He can cook, but it’s honestly a solid 50-50 on whether or not it’s burnt or edible. He’s pretty easily distracted, whether it’s a phone call or something else entirely, so if it's a dish that you have to pay close attention to, it’s likely to not turn out right.

Velvette

Velvette can do some light cooking, but nothing too extravagant. She’s got more important things to do, such as keeping Vox and Valentino on track. With a schedule as busy as hers, I don’t think she would cook often, preferring either Vox’s cooking or takeout. Oh but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t take a picture and post it, because it’s Velvette, of course she does. Oh! But She’s probably been on Vox’s show as some sort of celeb guest type deal, the dish they made definitely stuck with her, so she might make it from time to time.

Zestial

Considering how long Zestial has been around, I would be more surprised if he couldn’t cook. You can’t convince me that after a while he at one point went through hobbies like a revolving door. Cooking absolutely would have been one of them. This man would absolutely try making the craziest things. He’d be up to date on all of the cooking fads, know recipes and cooking methods from several time periods and cultures. With him, there’s no telling what he might cook up next.

Carmilla

While I don’t think that she would really set aside time to cook often, she’s pretty skilled in the kitchen. Carmilla would likely have a couple of nights out of the month set aside to cook a meal with/for her and the girls, a tradition that carried on from their life before hell. She’d even take the opportunity to try new things while cooking.

Rosie

Oh, Rosie can absolutely cook, it’s canon that its a hobby of hers. She’s very well versed in a multitude of cooking methods, and while she may not entirely like a whole lot of new-age gadgets in the kitchen, she can’t really deny the fact that they can be quite useful. I’m willing to bet that she would have an Instapot (they’re great I have two and one of them has an air fryer attachment)

Adam

Adam would never openly admit it, but he knows how to cook. He was the first man, he would have had to learn eventually, even if it was something as simple as preparing meats. That being said, he can grill. I’d be willing to bet that he’d host a little barbeque after the annual exterminations for the exorcists, maybe even enter into grilling competitions.

Lute

Lute’s honestly a bit of a wildcard when it comes to cooking. She might have been able to cook while she had been alive, but nowadays not so much. It had been a long time since she actively made anything, so she’d be pretty rusty. But other than the basics, I don’t really see her being able to be too creative in terms of cooking either. She’d honestly probably stick to what she knows and wouldn’t stray too far away from that.

Emily

I don’t necessarily think that seraphim would really need to eat, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t or don’t. In Emily’s case, I would imagine it as a scenario where she wanted to do something to get closer to humanity. They were her charge after all, or rather their state of happiness. But all humans eat and many find joy in doing so and even in the act of cooking, so she absolutely would be thrilled to learn! She’s getting better at it by the day.

Sera

Sera had likely done the same as Emily when she was a young angel, though I don’t see her sticking with it. I definitely think that she taught Emily to start her on her little culinary journey. She can cook, she just… doesn’t. I’d even go as far as to say it’s been centuries since she’s actually cooked a meal of any kind. That being said, if she were to jump into the kitchen nowadays, she probably wouldn’t have a very easy time finding her way around.

Lucifer

Lucifer is a man of many talents. He can absolutely cook, possibly even Michelin level, he just chooses not to. He likely just considers it a novelty of sorts, considering he has the power to simply poof food right in front of him. Honestly, it’s pretty helpful whenever he’s depressed and doesn’t feel like making anything. But, when it comes to his family and friends, he’s more than happy to whip something up.

Lilith

Another one who would likely consider cooking to be a novelty. Considering how she’s the second most powerful being in hell, and fiercely independent with more important things to worry about. Lilith wouldn’t concern herself with cooking unless it was with her family, and even then it likely didn’t happen that often after Charlie grew up.

Bonus:

Alastor Cat

Would wind up burning what ever building its in down. Was it intentional? Was it an accident? The world may never know

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alicerosejensen · 5 months

Text

Something about sin. Pt.1

Synopsis: Leon is ready to rip all these damn feelings out of himself and tell himself over and over again that he needs a good fuck. You're too young and too cute for him. Leon knows that he shouldn't even touch you, but then why are you tearing all the sinful essence out of him?

Warning: no erotica but it is mentioned; Older!Leon; Innocent Reader; Fem/reader; age difference; Leon is tormented by his conscience; Old man/young girl; Mentions of sex; in fact (in this chapter) the reader does not view Leon as a love/sexual interest; The reader is the daughter of another DSO agent.

A/N: I apologize for any mistakes. I really like the idea of dark Leon, but I don’t want to make him look like a bastard).

Feedback is welcome. If you want to point out mistakes or scold me, please do so in a gentle manner.

Part 2

This was wrong...

But 'Wrong' is not the word that could describe how he feels every time he sees you. One slightest appearance and Leon immediately feels like Humbert from Nabokov’s novel “Lolita,” who ruined the life of a little girl, well, the only difference is that you seem to be 19-20 years old, and not 14. Actually, it’s already wrong to want you, given that huge fact that you...don’t give him any reason.

You don't wag your pretty ass in front of him, you don't wear revealing clothes, and damn you're a victim of his sinful thoughts! When the fuck did this start?

The day he saw you might have been the right answer. This was the day when his colleague, the only one in the DSO besides Hannigan and Helena, sympathized with him and believed that what was standing in front of him was not a cold-blooded killer of the president, but the same Leon who would rather take a bullet and give his life than kill the one he was supposed to protect. The clarification of all the circumstances and the justification of his innocence dragged on for a long time, maybe that’s why your father then simply wanted to show an act of friendship and support by inviting him to a family dinner? Returning back, Leon thinks that it would be better if he went through hell again.

Leon immediately realized that the dinner was arranged primarily for him. Fried chicken with sides, a light salad, your mom made appetizers and even made a casserole. One is too many for him. The icing on the cake was when your father opened an expensive bottle of wine. He immediately felt awkward about this, after all, who was he to be bothered with so much, but you...

"Mr. Kennedy, what do you want? Maybe a salad? The thin sound of your voice almost made him feel weak. Your beautiful hands held the salad bowl, and almost as if on cue, you were ready to fill his plate with whatever he wanted. And those doe eyes looked at him so sweetly.

Leon could have sworn that at that moment some kind of blessing...or curse came down to him. He doesn't even remember what you were wearing. Some kind of brown blouse with jeans? He didn’t even pay attention to it, his eyes were completely focused on your pretty face. It was rubbish. You yourself were old enough to be his daughter and, as was said earlier, you didn’t even give him a hint to think that you were not indifferent to him. Actually, at dinner, when you were sitting between your parents opposite him, Leon saw how uncomfortable you were. You ate almost nothing and didn’t say anything, and an hour later you ran upstairs to your room, citing the fact that you hadn’t finished some task yet.

And your father quickly let you go, so you quickly jumped up the stairs like a rabbit, running away from his insidious gaze.

Maybe he just needed to let off some steam, he decided. In fact, it is not very often that there are women in his house who can spend at least a night with him. Last time it was Ada, and sex with her was too rough and fast. He cum almost as soon as she found herself in his arms, and for some reason Leon at that moment was not thinking about her, but about how it would anger Simmons, who believed that Kennedy was not worthy of her. However, it was true.

It seems like it's starting to become a habit, wanting women he doesn't deserve. At least Ada herself comes to him and Leon knows that she will not demand anything from him, they have never even had dinner together, and what did they do together besides sex, battles and flirting? That's right, nothing. But he has even less interaction with you.

Ada's black hair is too short, unlike yours, which could fall all over him if you were sleeping on his chest in this bed right now. But Ada never laid her head on his chest and always left unnoticed, leaving behind a barely perceptible trail of perfume. You wouldn't have left, Leon thinks, looking at the ceiling, ignoring the brown gaze of the woman he's been crazy about for so many years. Why is he comparing you and Ada at all? Two women who don't look like each other at all, which makes damn sense. You don't have to be like this! Your father would rather put his neck under the axe than allow his daughter to serve in the DSO or any other service, but in any case, you do not aspire there.

As a result, a woman will always understand when someone else settles in her man's head and Ada just smiles slyly moving closer to him, but all Leon hears is the rustle of a blanket.

"Well, who is she?"

As always, there was no hint of jealousy. Ada is the epitome of calm and composure, but Leon really doesn't know what to answer her.

After all, you are nobody and at the same time you have planted strong roots in his head.

"She?"

He pretends not to understand her, but Ada has long figured him out. For her, he will always remain a rookie cop.

"Yes." She still smiles, resting her head on her hand while lying on her side, "Who is this 'Jolene' What took my puppy away from me?"

Leon grins, but at the same time he feels an unpleasant ache in his chest from her words. Puppy... of course, he remained that way, and Ada was good at getting to the bottom of it, and yet she did not say that he was her lover, because there is no love between them as such.

"There is no 'Jolene' in my life and it is unlikely that there will be," he said wearily, reaching out to hug her, but contrary to expectation, he did not feel the desired warmth, and the itch inside grew like a wild beast intending to get only one thing - you.

In the morning, Ada disappeared as usual, and Leon was not even surprised. But instead of a paper airplane with a lipstick imprint on the kitchen table, he found a small note, folded in half, where only one thing was written: “I think you really need a family. You should think about it."

Maybe Ada really was right, but if she knew your age, she would obviously look at him with bewilderment, thinking that somewhere on the mission he was hit hard on the head. On the other hand, maybe she would have sarcastically joked that the older a man gets, the more he wants to have a young girlfriend instead of the old one, although he wouldn’t dare call Ada old.

Besides, you were supposed to remain only in his head and Leon could only hope that one day he would simply forget about you. For example, fucking with a random girl from a bar, but bad luck, against his own will, closing his eyes, Leon still wanted you. As if you were the one clinging to his back with your nails, leaving bloody streaks marking him and screaming his name. Complete crap.

You live your quiet life, not knowing what a zombie is, in complete material wealth and parental love. When your second meeting with Leon happens, he sees that you are dressed in some kind of wide sundress and are trying to drag something heavy alone, although dad strictly ordered you not to do this, but you, as a caring daughter, did not listen to him because wanted your father to do something other than hard work instead of carrying those heavy boxes out of the barn. The fact that you yourself were barely coping, not very successfully, was ignored by you.

Leon couldn't look at it calmly. He himself told you twice to leave the boxes, but you just snorted offended at him.

"Spoiled girl"

You want to prove something to someone, although this will most likely harm your health and force your father to fork out for doctors and medicine, so Leon, not paying attention to your snorting face, took the load from you and carried it into the house, leaving you with only light boxes.

In fact, no matter how hard Leon tries to convince himself that he just needs a break, your game keeps cutting him like a knife. If he were 21 years old again and he could get to know you before Raccoon, you could hum beautiful lyrical poems about how a boy fell in love with a girl and the whole world around him changed. As if you could be those two stupid lovers who burn alive in their love until finally they become disgusted with each other, although more and more often Leon realizes that in his loyalty and devotion only he would disgust you, not you from him. He would be your devoted puppy, as he has always been for Ada.

You would be everything to him.

Or already?

Is it right to look at a young girl like that when he is almost an old man himself? Why don't you have some annoying boyfriend with whom you can constantly text and chat on the phone thinking that this is the love of your life? And why can't he just throw you out of his head?!

"Mr. Kennedy" the way his last name comes off your tongue makes him almost rush to you and take you somewhere far away where no one would find you. However, Leon is disgusted by the idea that he will be the cause of fear and tears of an innocent girl who is completely innocent of what is happening in his unhealthy head. To tell the truth, it's not even lust… No, of course he feels physically attracted, but first there is some kind of dog instinct maturing inside to protect you from EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.

Then you started awkwardly calling his name and he just became Leon, always smiling when you ask him for something or just out of politeness ask how he is, whereas in fact you don't really care what's going on in his life. At least that's what he thinks, not really knowing what thoughts are going through your head.

Leon can't possibly know that you want someone older. Just a little colder so that you can become someone's secret, because even though you're young, you're of age. And yet you're watching these weird love movies that Leon thinks are sweeter than the cheapest chocolate and probably the books on the shelves have similar plots. A love to fight for. Disgusting rubbish, really.

But your smile is getting softer and Leon feels like he's giving up.

But Ada really understands that she is finished. Your beauty is incomparable, and even though she smiles in Leon's face, her heart also breaks apart when he says another woman's name in a dream. Huh, women…girls. How easily were you able to get hold of someone she's been involved with for so long.

In fact, it's a shame and Ada also understands that the years of youth are merciful to you, unlike her, and in fact you grabbed Leon's leash and there's no point in begging to find another man. Besides, Leon himself has always been eager for normality, for what he can build with an ordinary civilian girl. You will be a faithful girl to him, and he will be yours.

Someone else always comes. Younger and more beautiful. In Leon's case, meeting someone like you was also a well-deserved reward, so their nights are becoming increasingly rare and have long lost their passion. The only thing Ada doesn't understand is why you won't pull the leash on yourself. However, this question quickly disappears when she finds out that Leon stubbornly drowns his feelings in whiskey, in her and other women, who, though few, still have them. And then, like a faithful dog, he runs up to you just to wag his tail at the sight of you.

In the end, Ada doesn't even back down, but just waits for Leon to draw a line between them that can no longer be crossed. And waiting for you to lie on these soft pillows instead of her, like his beloved princess, or climb onto his lap and his lips will leave kisses on your neck. Leon deserves you. He deserves his share of happiness in a world where the government has turned him into a perfect weapon against bioterrorism.

Leon's touch is becoming more and more relaxed and you are not afraid of his wide chest, given your size difference. He could have easily swatted you, but for God's sake, Leon S Kennedy would rather put a bullet in their brains than hurt you. You hug him, listening to the pounding in your chest when he gives you an obscenely expensive Christmas present and drinks hot chocolate with you. No, Leon likes sweets, but in moderation. All those bright ribbons, the Christmas tree… not for him, but if you were in his house now, he would decorate his apartment for you and then hug you for several hours, nuzzling your head hoping that his phone would remain quiet.

Leon wants to put you in his bed, he's even ready to be your sugar daddy and get punched in the face by your dad knowing that you're going to grab onto him, but he just wants you. Like a stupid old dog who wants to be petted by a new owner. And Leon is sure that he will die of longing if you don't do it. The fact that you still don't have a boyfriend is just comforting, but anxiety grows when your father tells him that he's worried that his beloved daughter isn't interested in boys her own age.

"Anyone older?" your father says rhetorically while helping Leon fix his bike, "Buddy, I don't want an old man like you or me to become my son-in-law."

"But this way you'll have something to talk about," Leon grins, feeling that he has everything to step on the gas.

And he will take the risk again, even if it means a broken nose.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil leon #older leon kennedy #Older!Leon s Kennedy

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oldmannapping · 7 months

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Directly riffing off this post, my brain wouldn’t stop. The idea of Jason furiously becoming a superstar HR manager for his goons gives me such pure joy.

The Adventures of Jason Todd And His Goons

Jason: “Shut the FUCK UP. What do you mean you’ve never had dental cover? This is fucking bullshit. Get me the paperwork right now, do I have to do everything my fucking self? God. You have three kids, right? Of course they’re going on your fucking plan, what do you think this is?”

Jason: “You guys want fucking CAKE on your birthdays? Are you shitting me right now? Are you fucking looking me in the eye and asking for cake on your birthday? You’re not fucking WORKING on your birthday, dumbshit, that’s a paid day off. Buy your own damn cake, eat it with your family, Jesus Christ.”

Jason: “Is that a dog? Did you bring a fucking dog in here? What the everloving pissfuck. Who decided to have a bring your pet to work day and not tell me so I could have treats ready for the very good boy, yes you are, you’re a very good boy. See now I feel like an asshole, I don’t have a treat for you, and you’re such a beautiful doggy yes you are, yes you are. I’m only gonna say this once: EVERY day is now bring your pet to work day. EVERY DAMN DAY.”

Jason: “Did someone set up a crib over there? Is that a crib in my warehouse next to the fridge where we keep our severed heads and leftover bean casseroles? Steve! STEVE! Show the new guy where the daycare room is. Jesus Christ. It’s like I didn’t spend four days last winter teaching you fucks about how to induct the new guys.”

Jason: “Someone signed us up to have a FLOAT IN THE PRIDE PARADE? I’ve been voted a fucking EMPLOYER OF CHOICE??? Fuck. The bar is so low, man. I just treat people with basic human fucking respect… Shouldn’t get a fucking award for that. And who the hell signed us up for this with only two weeks’ notice, how the fuck am I meant to make a custom rainbow helmet in two weeks? You think this shit’s gonna bedazzle itself? There better be a hot glue gun in my hand in the next three minutes or I swear to god I’m cancelling paintball this week.”

#jason todd #red hood #batfamily headcanons #red hood headcanon #Jason Todd is a good boss #red hood and his goons #red hood is an ally #Gotham pride parade

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zepskies · 8 months

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Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending.

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony.

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill.

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open.

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.”

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could.

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands.

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder.

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could.

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself.

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter.

“Don’t you look at my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip.

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck.

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response.

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.”

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile.

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life.

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip.

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought.

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood.

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing.

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface.

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked.

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself.

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood.

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated.

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed.

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?”

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close.

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.”

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise.

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line.

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill.

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw.

Okay, now you were panicking a bit.

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff).

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom.

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked.

You rolled your eyes.

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay.

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips.

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him?

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first.

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt.

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine.

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker.

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table.

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you.

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again.

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.”

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery.

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded.

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out.

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you.

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom.

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot.

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought.

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.”

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for.

And he got tired of waiting for your answer.

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows.

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked.

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized.

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this.

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically.

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter.

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment.

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile.

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head…

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood.

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes.

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.”

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion.

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“What do you think?” he countered.

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk.

“Show me,” you challenged.

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch.

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp.

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap.

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple.

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head.

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds.

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most.

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted?

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response.

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk.

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit.

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair.

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words.

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you.

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there.

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. “You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.”

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.”

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Keep reading: PART 2

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#Strong as Blood #Part 1 #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #smut #fluff #BMD verse #Break me down verse #zepskies writes

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bisexualiteaa · 6 days

Text

Mornings Like These

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader

CW: slightly NSFW, established relationship, mentions of sex, sexual daydream, OOC Cooper, Cooper in a frilly apron cooking, cursing, slight deviance from the canon, more domestic Cooper because 🥹❤️

AN: Had the most wonderful request to do something a little different than what I’m used to! I know it’s out of character for our cowboy ghoul but I just loved the concept. This is a continuation of my last work, so it is set in the same Fallout TV series and Fallout 4 tense. Breakfast is served my lovely Cooper simps, hope I did your ask justice @morrrrow !! Hope y’all enjoy!

“God damn this fuckin’ thing” spoke the ever recognizable southern twang of Cooper from the kitchen. You woke up to hearing a few pots and pans clank together as he removed them from the cabinet, and his not so quiet curses in frustration that he was a man who failed at being quiet. Outside of bounty hunting of course. You were still in bed, having just barely woken up as the sun poured in through the windows, making you rub the sleep from your eyes. You padded into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about, seeing him trying to work the stove that you both bought off of someone that was supposed to be repaired and in working order. “What a fuckin’ rip off” he said angrily as he threw the towel down on the floor that was resting on his shoulder, then leaned over the sink to breathe, doing his best to try to control his anger before he started breaking things. “Stove givin’ ya trouble, hun?” You asked, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp to it as a small playful smile stretched to your lips, making him look over at you. In that moment, it was as if all the anger inside of him had just melted away upon seeing you, clad in just a tank top and underwear, hair slightly messy from sleep. You were truly a sight to behold at all hours of the day in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry darlin’. I wanted t’ surprise you with breakfast but this damn thing won’t work. Shoulda known it was a fat load a shit when he said it was workin’” he replied, defeat and agitation still evident in his tone, making you walk closer to him and grab his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, Coop. I think it’s mighty sweet you wanted t’ do that. Can I take a look? Maybe a fresh set’a eyes can help?” You asked, watching as his shoulders dropped a little bit as the tension left him at your touch, a small smile reaching his thin, marred lips as he looked down at his girl. “Go ‘head” he replied, starting to follow you and what you were trying to do but you stopped him before he could do anything. “*You* have a seat and relax, I’ll take a look, ‘kay?” you said, your hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he listened to you, knowing well and good his stubbornness was his biggest attribute. He gave a grunt before giving in, recognizing that you just wanted him to relax after being all worked up. “I’ll take care of it, promise. I’m a big girl, but if I need anythin’ I’ll holler for ya” you said, smiling up at him sweetly once more as you rubbed his shoulders a little before kissing him softly. His hands rested on your hips for a moment as you kissed, and in that moment, everything felt at peace in the world. As you parted from the kiss, you turned and moved out of his way before coming to take a look at the new appliance. Well, maybe not *new* but new for post war standards. You took a look at the wiring, noticing that it looked pretty good for a shit box that survived a nuclear bomb or two. No rust, no corrosion, hell even the paint didn’t look half bad. Cooper knew he had to get it for you the moment your pretty eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing it, going on about how much you missed making homemade pies, casseroles, and bread. He knew you were one hell of a cook with the passion you put into making some iguana, or even your famous stew he’d grown to love that was made from just about anything you could get your hands on. He swore you put some kind of drugs in your food with the way he craved it all the time, he’d joke that you could put cyanide in it and still manage to make it taste delicious. And that was just over a fire, he could only imagine the creations you’d put out if given the right materials. Seeing you working a stove, in a house that was starting to get pretty settled into, would be one step closer to the dream of having a domestic life with you when the rest of the world had gone to shit. He wanted to see you happy, because when you were happy, everything was alright in the world in his book.

You opened the door to the stove, bent over and examining the inside for any reason as to why it wasn’t working. The broiler seemed good, all the coils were there, nothing was rusted or corroded so you weren’t quite sure what the issue was. Cooper however, was in a whole other world looking at you. Had he been the man he was before meeting you, he’d have had half the mind to fuck you right then and there while your body was half way in the oven. He gave a groan at his own daydream, watching you with your ass in the air, clad in just the panties you were wearing, making him shift in the small, dining room chair he was sitting on as his pants began to grown uncomfortably tight. You always had a way of getting to him, whether you meant to or not, that man stayed feral for you all hours of the day. He wondered if your moans would be muffled or amplified with your head stuck in the oven, how you’d squeeze him tight with the slight sensory depravation. What he really wanted was the memory to play in your mind each time you’d use it, for you to bend down and remember the way he used you in that same position as you’d slide a casserole in the oven. He was broken from his daydream when you called his name, finding that you were no longer in the kitchen but outside checking the power source. He stood up and walked towards the front door, leaning in the open doorway as you stood outside, looking to him with a relieved smile as you found the solution. “Was wonderin’ why it was so hot in there” you thought out loud, explaining that it was a problem with the power source, not the stove itself before flipping a few switches and connecting a few wires then hearing your electricity hum back to life. “‘s ‘cause you’re here” he joked flirtatiously, sending a wink and a smirk your way, making you giggle. “Wasn’t the stove, was the power. Radstorm must’ve knocked it out last night” you said as you both came back inside, plugging the stove back in and sure as shit, it turned on. You dusted your hands off, standing there proudly in front of your new, working oven. He was thoroughly impressed. “Well I’ll be damned, when’d you get so handy?” Cooper asked with a teasing grin, making you smile as he looped an arm around your waist proud that his little lady was able to fix the problem. “Since I had to start fixin’ things ‘fore you break ‘em” you teased, coming up to kiss his cheek as he swatted your ass affectionately in retaliation.

“Ya know, before you start cookin’ I have the perfect thing for you to wear” you said, slipping from his grasp for only a moment, making him raise a brow at you as you giggled and treaded into the closet of what you called your bedroom. You opened it, finding a frilly white apron you used to own back in the day when you would bake and cook everything by hand at home. You smiled as you grabbed it, knowing full and well you’d have hell to pay for this little stunt, but when has that ever stopped you before? So you snatched it up, leaving it folded before coming back into the kitchen and handing it to him. “A good cook needs a good apron, and I just know this one would look damn good on you” you said, handing it to him with the most mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips, leaving him to unfold it and look it over. Now this was where you were expecting to get in some serious shit. To hear a chide comment or a “never in a million years, sugar” but no, this man looked at you like you’d handed him a challenge, and he was going to take it in stride. So with a smirk, he set it aside and started to shake his duster off from his frame. “I’ll do ya one better there, little lady” he said, that look in his eyes told you he was up to no good and it had you curious. He started working his shirt off and you’d be damned if you weren’t enjoying the sight of him shirtless and just in his pants, the decorative buckle on his belt helping him maintain that rugged cowboy look. He noticed your stares, giving a dry chuckle. “Like whatchya see, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dipping a little lower but he didn’t need you to say anything, he already knew the answer. “Always” you replied, a half lidded expression on your face as your tone dripped with something a little less pure. What you really hadn’t been expecting was when you saw him take his pants and briefs off before you, a slack jawed grin coming to your mouth as he tied the apron around his frame. Completely naked underneath. You gave a laugh as you watched him wear it with pride. “You sir, never fail to surprise me” you said, making him chuckle but you spotted the tent that started to poke at the apron where he was getting hard underneath. “Think you’re right, it’s a pretty good look” he said, turning to face away from you and you gave that same crude whistle he’d always give you when he liked something you wore or did, because you had an eye full of ass standing right in front of you. You walked up and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying kisses to his shoulder and back. “On second thought, who needs breakfast when you look this good? Hell, I think you pull it off better than I ever did” you said through a giggle, feeling him swat at your grabby hands the way you do when he gets handsy with you. “Can’t disturb a chef when he’s cookin’, sugar” he said coyly, making you chuckle as he started frying a few slices of Cram in the skillet. “Oh but you can disturb me when I’m doin’ laundry? I see how it is” You said playfully as you took a seat down at the dinner table you two found, it wasn’t much, but it was nice all things considered. Gave that homey touch that was missing from the house when you two first put together the settlement. You watched as he romped around the kitchen, going out of his way to put on a show for you and get you as worked up as you make him. “You are such a tease” you said, making him grin as he had his back turned to you, fully focused on making a good breakfast for the two of you to enjoy. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart” he said, making you laugh. You could certainly get used to this.

#fallout #fallout x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout smut

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freckles-things · 1 year

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Out of Time // Part 3

Summary: “The Revelation” is followed by a ton of apologies, reassurances, and grovelling. But is that enough for you to decide to stay at the BAU? Or will you leave after all?

Pairing: BAU!Team x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: feeling left out, feeling unneeded, being excluded, self worth issues

Part 1 / Part 2

---

After the revelation the previous evening you hadn’t done anything but driven home and gone to sleep. You hadn’t been in the frame of mind to deal with it. And frankly, you just didn’t want to. Hotch had promised to hold the position on the team for you. And after everything that had happened, they could damn well wait a few days longer, you decided as you stayed wrapped up in your bedsheets the next morning. Still not feeling ready to deal with the situation. You logically knew that sooner or later you had to. But right now, later looked like the more promising option. So, you stayed at home the entire day, fixing yourself several cups of your favourite drink, watching random TV-Shows, and pointedly not thinking about the entire mess.

You had fully intended to spend the next day in a similar fashion, but you were ever so rudely interrupted by a doorbell ringing. Disgruntled you wrapped yourself out of your blankets and wandered over to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone. Slowly opening the door, you were surprised to see Rossi standing in front of you. He was holding a casserole and gifted you with a small smile.

“Bellissima, it is good to see you. I tried to call to see if you were up for a visitor, but you didn't pick up. So, I thought I’d just come by and see. I also brought lunch, it is my Nona’s famous family recipe for lasagna alla Rossi. If you’re not up to seeing anyone I’ll just leave you the lunch and be on my way”, he shifted a little, unsure if he was welcome or not.

The lasagna smelled delicious and out of all the people that could have dropped by you were glad that it was Rossi. Your heart warmed a little at the thought that he had made food for you especially, and despite all still left you with an opening to decline his visit. You took a few steps back to let him in and lead him towards the little kitchen area in your apartment. You were slightly embarrassed at the state it was in since you had only stacked your dishes on top of each other for the last few days. Neither of you spoke while Rossi busied himself warming up the food, except for his little comment that it would be a crime to warm it up in the microwave, and you tidied up the kitchen area and the blankets in your living room. You set two places at your small dining table and waited for Rossi to finish with the food. It turned out that he also had brought a delicious looking garlic bread to go with it. You decided to pour both of you a glass of red wine, the last bottle you had left.

You had expected the silence between you to be awkward and loaded with things waiting to be said. Surprisingly it wasn’t. It was a comfortable silence that was broken once Rossi brought out two plates with Lasagna and garlic bread. It seemed that you both had silently agreed to talk about the serious topic once lunch had been eaten. And so, both of you tucked in.

“This is by far the best Lasagna I’ve ever eaten, Rossi. I’ll never be able to eat the premade ones ever again” you complimented once you had tasted it. You had barely refrained from embarrassing yourself with a moan at the first taste. It truly was one of the most delicious dishes you’d ever eaten.

“Nona will be glad to hear that”, Rossi chuckled slightly. “She absolutely detests premade pasta dishes.” You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Your grandma is still alive?”

“Oh yes. Fierce little puffetta, that one. She barely reaches my shoulder, and she can’t walk very well anymore, but I’ve never seen men more afraid that when faced with her wrath.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the childhood stories with his grandma that he told you. Your favourite one was when she’d chased him through the entire town to drag him back home by his ear to apologise to the poor girl he had insulted by accident.

“Well, I know who taught you your manners then”, you winked at him, which made him chuckle.

“Si, Bella. And I can assure you that I still feel like a little boy every time I see her. The last time she admonished me about my shoes. Said that I had all that money and still didn’t know how to shine my shoes properly.”

He told you some more about his Italian family while you both finished your food, and you cleaned the dishes. You insisted since he’d already premade and warmed up the food. You were also very gratified to see his surprised face when you asked him if he wanted an espresso or some other drink with coffee while motioning to your high-end portafilter coffee machine, which you had bought with your very first BAU paycheck. You were a bit of a coffee addict. A few minutes and one espresso and one latte later, the two of you were back in your living room again.

“When you came over yesterday and you complimented the house, I realised that, in all your time on the team, you hadn’t been there before. And while I was preparing the food and wondered why that was the case, I realised that I had never actually invited you. Dolcezza, I am so sorry. I have no excuse, at least no good one, and I am sorry that I have caused you pain.” His face and his voice were solemn but genuine, and you were surprised that he had started your conversation like that. You shrugged slightly, not quite sure how to react to his words.

“It’s fine, I know that none of you wanted to hurt me”, you awkwardly muttered, which caused Rossi to lean forward and encase your hands in his. His calloused fingers gently rubbed warm circles into the back of your hands.

“You’re not fine, cara mia. You didn’t know that you were excluded by accident. But even so, it should never have happened at all. We all should have noticed, and we did in some way, but never questioned it. If only one of us had deigned to ask you why you weren’t with us after one of those team outings, all this wouldn’t have happened. But none of us did and the fault lies with us. We’re the best profilers of the country and yet we didn’t even notice we were hurting one of our own.”

“I didn’t want you to notice. I didn’t want anyone to feel bad about it.”

At that Rossi chuckled sadly, scooting a little closer and releasing your hands in order to cup your face.

“But it wasn’t your job to protect us from our own stupid and careless mistakes, Gioia. You had, and still have, every right to feel hurt. The fact that no one of us intended to hurt you doesn’t matter. We did, and you have dealt with it all on your own for a long time. The fact that you didn’t want anyone to know that we had hurt you, so we didn’t feel bad about it, says a lot about your character. As does the fact that we never noticed about ours.” His thumb gently brushed away a tear you hadn’t noticed shedding and his soft eyes never left yours.

“You have helped all of us so much and made a lot of things easier for us with all the little things you did. Sei un raggio di sole, Y/N. But even a ray of sunshine needs to be nourished. We clearly haven’t. And I can understand if you need and want to search for another place where you can find that nourishment, because you deserve it. I would truly miss you terribly, but I want you to fly, passerotta.”

By now tears were streaming down your face, which still was carefully held between his warm hands. You felt pathetic, but you hadn’t noticed how badly you needed to hear someone acknowledge that they made a mistake. Yes, Hotch had said that as well, but it hadn’t really registered then. Deep down you still had felt that it had been your own mistake. That you should have said something or that there was something wrong with you, that you were just unlikable like that.

But Rossi never said anything he didn’t mean. That was his one rule, for which you had always appreciated him. Yes, sometimes that meant hearing the harsh truth in uncomfortable situations. But it also meant that you never had to worry about some hidden meaning or little white lies. And it was the reason that you started to feel like maybe there was a way to work past all this.

Your heart ached at the truth and compassion in his voice and the earnest and determined gaze with which he still gazed at you. Gentle fingers softly caressing your cheek and tucking single strands of hair behind your ear. God, you really didn’t want to lose Rossi in your life. You’d never before had a person of such pure comfort in your life. Even in the past year Rossi had always been the one who had offered you a gentle hug and an open ear if things at work had gotten bad. The pain in your chest grew at the image of a life without him and his steady support and comfort. Just thinking about it had you squeezing your eyes closed and swallowing hard.

“Cara mia…”, you heard his soft voice again and couldn’t help yourself. You blindly threw yourself in his arms, which instantly wrapped around you in a secure hold.

“I don’t want to leave the team”, you muttered between sobs. “I don’t want to lose you.” You buried your face against his neck, hands gripping onto the fabric of his suit. His arms tightened around you and one of his hands came up to cradle your head protectively against his neck, the other one tracing small circles against your waist.

“Oh Y/N…”, he said softly, voice full of emotions. “I don’t want to lose you either, Dolcezza.” Your body trembled in his arms, and he gently swayed the two of you, humming a gentle tune under his breath and softly resting his head atop yours. It was only some time later that you bashfully moved back to your own chair again.

“I think I ruined your suit”, you muttered, feeling bad about the expensive Italian garment. But Rossi just chuckled in response.

“It’s just fabric. You’re more important.” You couldn’t help the small smile appearing on your face at his words. Being vulnerable had never been your strong suit and you felt a little awkward sitting opposite him after your emotional outburst. Rossi however was always one to help in such situations and grinned at you:

“I think after this we both deserve some dessert to make us feel better.”

“You brought dessert?”

“Might have hidden it in your fridge”, he winked and moved to get it and to give you a moment to sort out your face, before coming back with two portions of Tiramisu.

“Also your grandmas’ receipt?”, you asked before trying the first bite, which was absolutely the best bite of Tiramisu you’d ever had.

“No, this one is actually my father’s receipt. He would burn down the kitchen trying to make the lasagna, but when it comes to backing and desserts no one can beat him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that and continued to enjoy your dessert.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening on your couch, talking and enjoying the rest of the wine you had opened for lunch. Only once it had gotten dark outside did Rossi say his goodbyes and made his way home. You helped him to collect his now clean casseroles as well as his jacket and followed him towards the door. Before he could go though, you felt the need to tell him something.

“Rossi?”, you called after him once he had passed the threshold. He turned around, looking questioningly at you.

“I forgive you”, you said softly, feeling a bit ridiculous to say it. Feeling like the words were too big, because it hadn't been all that bad. But once you saw his shoulders relax and the tension leave his body with an unconscious breath of relief, you knew you’d done the right thing. A gentle smile took over his features.

“Thank you, Gioia.” He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead before moving towards his car. You just nodded and smiled, waving after the retreating vehicle.

---

After your talk with Rossi you had felt better, but you had also realized that you needed to talk with the other team members if you wanted to make a decision. And so you agreed, when two days later Derek texted you and asked if he could come by for lunch. This time your flat was appropriately tidied up and you were freshly showered and felt a lot more prepared to deal with everything.

You still felt nervous and a little apprehensive though. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you resolved to just let the conversation happen and to see where it went. You had just finished setting two places at your dining table, a little déjà vu to Rossi’s visit two days prior, when your doorbell rang. Taking a deep breath you moved towards the door to open it. In front of you stood Derek in casual ware and two huge bags of food in hand.

“Hey Derek! Have you invited anyone else or are you planning on feeding us into a food coma?”, you grinned at him. For a split second he appeared to be surprised by your usual casual greeting, before he grinned back at you and waggled his eyebrows:

“Just you wait until you’ve tried Mama Jones cooking. You’ll complain that I haven’t brought enough.”

You laughed and stepped aside to let him in, relieving him of one of the bags as he walked past you. He toed of his shoes and followed you to your little dining area, where you were already unpacking some of the food, which appeared to be different kinds of barbeque and really did look mouth-watering.

“It does smell really good”, you conceded. “We’ll see if it can keep up with Rossi’s lasagna.”

Derek started unpacking the remaining food from his bag, chuckling at the comment.

“Aha, I’m not the only one that came bearing food. I see how it is.”

“At least you came with a warning and thus have the luxury of a clean flat and a representable me. But I see that Rossi hasn’t sacred you away with exaggerated tales of our meeting”, you jokingly said.

“Nope. Rossi didn’t tell us anything, just that he went to see you. Actually, he might have told Hotch something, but nothing to the rest of the team.” Derek was smiling, but you heard the underlying sense of seriousness that conveyed that they were taking the whole situation to heart. And you felt undoubtedly relieved that Rossi hadn’t said anything. Not that you had really expected him to, but it was good to know either way. You smiled back and went to get some drinks for the two of you, asking Derek what he'd like.

A few minutes later the two of you were eating and thoroughly enjoying the food.

“You weren’t kidding about the food. You need to tell me where I can get this, I don’t think I can live without it in my life anymore.”

“I’d never joke about Mama Jones food, Darlin”, he drawled in an overexaggerated accent which made you laugh.

He told you a bit about his newest project, a lovely old house a short distance from the city, which he was currently deconstructing to turn it into a gem. He was planning on upcycling a lot of the old details and structures but there still was a lot of work left. In exchange you told Derek about your upstairs rooms which you had remodelled on your own. Your bedroom had been done for some time. There was one huge room though, which was the reason a lot of people didn’t want to have the small house since they thought the layout was whacky, which you were currently transforming into your very own library. You were pretty excited about it, since your own In-house library was one of your childhood dreams. You talked about which woods you were going to choose and how to best use the available space. Derek had a few ideas which you happily took into consideration as well as his offer of help once you had decided on your final plan, which you gladly accepted. You were far from helpless and were pretty sure that you could do it on your own, but it would definitely be faster with help, and you were sure that Derek had a few tricks you could learn from.

Afterwards you stacked the dishes in the kitchen and offered Derek some dessert and another drink. You settled on the couch with some self-baked cookies and two coffees just a few minutes later.

“So, onto the heavy conversation then?”, you teased lightly. Scratching his neck awkwardly Derek nodded before sighing quietly.

“I was surprised that you even want to see us if I’m being honest. I had expected this lunch to go a very different way.”

“Yeah, I noticed you were slightly surprised when I didn’t yell at you after opening the door”, you muttered, slight smile still on your lips.

“I was definitely prepared for that. If our roles were reserved, I probably would have.” Derek shifted a little so his body was turned more towards you, leaning forward slightly to be able to look into your eyes more easily.

“I logically know that neither of you intended to hurt me. It doesn’t change that it hurts and that the past year has been less than stellar, but I know that you didn’t do it out of malice”, you softly admitted, shifting your gaze to a point behind Derek.

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? We might not have intended to hurt you, but we did. Maybe Hotch and Rossi have a little more leeway since they have their offices and don’t always see all that’s going on in the bullpen, but you sat right in the middle of the group and we all didn’t see how we were hurting you. I still can’t believe we never asked you why you weren’t at one of the outings. God, you must have hated us.”

“Not really. I just thought that you all might not like me or maybe did like me but only as a colleague and not as a friend. And you would have had every right to feel like that after all. How could I hate you for that?” Any you meant it, too. Even if the entire situation had not turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding, you could never have hated the team. Yes, the experience would have been miserable and you would have been disappointed, but you don’t think you would have had it in you to actually hate anyone.

Derek’s eyebrows did a complicated thing before settling in a frown.

“You’re way too good for us, Y/N. We’ve all made a mistake, several mistakes. I don’t have any excuse, not that an excuse would make the situation any better, but I am truly sorry. I’ve never meant to hurt you, but I did continuously. I want you to know that you’re a great asset to the team, not just as a colleague but as the person that you are and as a friend and a member of our little family. And I want you to know that you are likeable. You’re the person always brightening things up for us and I don’t think we have appreciated that enough.”

Derek’s voice was soft but you could see in his eyes the pain of the knowledge that he had hurt you. You could also see the affection and earnestness. And wasn’t this just proof of his stupidly big heart? You let his words sink in for a few moments, feeling how your shoulders relaxes and tension left your body. After Rossi’s visit it still was a relieve to hear Derek say something similar. But Derek continued before you could answer.

“I know that this might be a bit much, but you know that Spencer is like a little brother to me. The same goes for you, just as a sister of course. Even though I have enough of them already. Even if you decide that this team isn’t for you anymore that will not change. Do you think you can forgive me?”

A smile slowly spread over your face before you moved to hug Derek, a gesture he gladly returned.

“Apology accepted”, you murmured against his chest, which made him hug you even tighter.

“If anyone ever treats you that way again, even if it’s one of us, call me to hit them over the head.” You had a feeling that he was only half joking but couldn’t help the giggle escaping your lips.

“Sure thing, Big Bro”, you teased lightly. Derek’s hugs were comfortable. Warm and secure and because of his size you felt like you basically disappeared within his arms. You moved back to look at his face.

“Thank you, Derek. I really appreciate it”, you smiled and settled besides him again, a bit closer this time.

“I don’t think I want to leave the team. But I’m not sure yet. I think I just need to talk to everyone before I make the final decision.” Derek wrapped one arm around your shoulder, which prompted you to lean against his strong form.

“I’m not gonna lie and say that I’m not glad to hear that. What would you like to do if you decided against staying, though?” He didn’t sound accusatory or disappointed but curious about your thoughts. You remembered your talk about career prospects after you had first told him that you were leaving and out of all members of the team, Derek had been the one with the best advice. Simply because he really cared about your future.

“There’s a free position at the Counterintelligence Division for the Counterespionage Section that I think might be really interesting as well as a position at the Organized Crime Section. I don’t think I’d want to go back to deal with criminals though if I decided to leave.”

“I can understand that. As interesting as the BAU is, it’s a lot to deal with sometimes. The CE Section would be something else entirely which might be a great challenge for you. I heard that the teams are rather young as well, which might be great to work with.”

You talked about your job prospects outside of the team for a while, bouncing ideas and opinions back and forth. If you were honest to yourself though, it made you feel like leaving the team even less.

At some point you offered to watch a film and relax a little together, Derek had used up his free day to see you after all. He agreed grinned when you told him that he could decide on the film. You went into the kitchen to prepare some snacks and drinks and to give Derek some time to decide. Once you had positioned popcorn, chips, and beer on the table you settled back on the sofa to see which film he chose, which made you laugh hysterically.

“The Emperor’s New Groove? Seriously Derek?”

“What? It’s a great film!”, he defended but there was a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t very well argue with the reasoning. It was a great film after all. Just not what you had expected him to choose. Still giggling you grabbed one of the blankets and settled against his side, spreading the fabric over the two of you. He grabbed the bowl of snacks and the drinks and positioned them safely on your labs before settling down and wrapping an arm around you. Both of you laughed and commented on the film, munching on the snacks. After the first film followed the second, and you felt yourself grow tired. Snuggling more comfortably into Derek’s side and with his big hand caressing your hair, you felt your eyes slowly close and drifted off into sleep.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, blanket securely wrapped around you and the table cleared off. Instead of the snack bowl and the empty beer bottles there was a plate with a breakfast beagle and a small bowl of fruit as well as a small note in Derek’s handwriting.

“Y/N, I had to leave for work – new case, you know how it is. Can’t let the bossman wait too long and I didn’t want to wake you since you were sleeping so peacefully. Enjoy breakfast, the coffee machine is ready to go as well. Hope to see you soon, Derek x.”

Stepping into the kitchen you couldn’t help but smile. He’d obviously spent some time washing the dishes from yesterday and had selected your most ridiculous mug to position under the coffee machine. You started it and with a filled mug in hand moved back to the couch, enjoying your breakfast and sending a message of thanks to Derek.

---

Your first meet up with Spencer after that fateful dinner was actually instigated by you. No matter what had happened or however complicated the situation was, you missed Spencer. And you were fairly sure that out of all your teammates, he was the one who would take the situation the hardest. After all, he had experienced similar situations all his life. So it was you who texted Spencer and asked if he was up for a coffee at your favourite café. It took him a while to respond and you weren’t sure if it was because the team had a new case or because he was anxious. He did respond with an affirmation though, which was really all that mattered to you right now.

So, after a much-needed day without one of your teammates coming by to apologize, which you had still used to do some serious thinking, you made your way to the café with a renewed sense of purpose. That went out of the window however when you saw Spencer standing in front of the café, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was gaunt, his hair a mess and you were pretty sure that he was even skinnier than before – even though that was hardly possible. You rushed over to him, gently gripping his shoulders.

“Spence! Are you alright? You look ill. Goodness, you should have told me if you weren’t feeling well, we could have rescheduled!” Spencer however was just staring at you, blinking rapidly. You frowned and gently cupped his face.

“Spence?”, you asked again. His eyes focused on your face and his own expression morphed into a confused frown.

“You’re concerned about me? Why?”, his voice was soft as always, but raspy as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“What do you mean, Spencer? Of course I’m worried about you if you don’t feel well.” Now you were the one being confused. What was going on here?

“But I hurt you.” Everything fell into place the moment he said the words. Spencer was feeling guilty. And, as well known, Spencer wasn’t the best at dealing with feelings and emotions. You studied his face and his form again, noting all the little giveaways of tiredness and exhaustion. You sighed softly and gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Yes, you all did. But You’re my friend Spencer, a very good friend at that and as a friend I do love you. And that love doesn’t just go away because you made a mistake or hurt me in any way. I don’t want to see you ill or not feeling your best in any way.” It took some moments for Spencer to absorb your words, but you absolutely knew when he did because tears threatened to spill. You pulled him into a strong hug, burying your own face against his shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you, Spence. I missed you and your statistics”, you muttered quietly but knew he had heard you when he squeezed you once.

“I missed you, too” he whispered against your neck. Staying like that for some time, you both were smiling once you moved away from each other.

“Coffee?”, you grinned at him.

“Definitely!”, he smiled back and held open the door for you to pass through. You walked to the small table you always took when it was empty. It was a bit more secluded than the rest of them but had a perfect view on the people passing outside. People watching was something both you and Spencer enjoyed, and a little distraction surely wouldn’t go amiss during the following conversation. In the meantime, Spencer went to order your drinks.

Once Spencer had brought over your drinks and was sitting opposite you, you noticed how he started to fidget with the spoon, obviously being anxious about the oncoming conversation.

“So, let’s get over with the bad side of the conversation so we can talk about nicer things”, you wink at him, giving him the opportunity to start. It was obvious that he had thought about everything, and by the looks of it, had forgone sleep in the process.

“I was surprised you reached out after everything”, he stated quietly.

“I thought about the situation for a long time. And I never thought any of you excluded me with malicious intent, to begin with. When Hotch offered to hold the position and after Rossi came over to talk to me, I found that I needed to talk to each of you before making my final decision. Rossi came by without announcing his visit and Derek also didn’t leave me much chance, even though he at least let me know in advance. After a day without anyone of the team I reached out to you because I miss our conversations. And because I want to clear up the situation between us. Because even if I were to decide to leave the team, I don’t want to lose the friendship that we have.” You smiled at him, trying to reassure him that the conversation wouldn’t end in a bad way. Spencer swallowed hard and fidgeted with his spoon for another few moments before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

“I want to apologize. I know that we have been kind of excluding you and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse. I know I haven’t been including you in conversations or inviting you to hang out with us. I know you’re probably feeling left out and like you don’t belong with the team, but I want you to know that’s not how we feel about you at all. You’re a vital part of this team… and our friend group.” You nodded along to his words.

“I think I know that now. Over the last year there were instances when I thought you all hadn’t invited me on purpose. That hurt. And I needed some time to come to terms with the fact that this all was just a big unfortunate misunderstanding which made me feel like a failure and like I wasn’t good enough for almost a year. But I understand that no one of you had any ill intentions. It doesn’t make the past year any better, but I do think we all can work through this if I stay on the team.” Spencer listened intently and slowly nodded carefully.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you, being left out like that. But I want you to know that I value your contributions as a colleague and I appreciate everything you do as a friend. You did a lot for us. Not just for cases but in the office as well. All the times you brought coffee or breakfast for the team or the one time you made sure each of us had a little something for Valentine's Day last year. I’ll do better, I promise.”

You reached over the table to grasp Spencer’s hand, which had finally stopped playing with the spoon, and squeezed it gently.

“Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot.”

“I just wish that I had noticed earlier.”

“Well, me as well”, you chuckled, throwing him an exaggerated wink which made him smile.

“I felt really guilty when we found out. Still do, to be honest. As I said, I don’t want to excuse my actions or anyone’s really. I just thought you might be a very private person, closed off, just like I was in the beginning. I didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you really didn’t want to do. I feel a bit stupid just having assumed that.”

“It’s alright, Spencer. Well, maybe not alright. But I’m glad that we found out that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding before the transfer went through. I really do love this team and I would hate to give it up.”

Both of you sipped on your drink for a few minutes, letting everything that had been said sink in properly. Even though you believed what you’d said, that no one of your fellow team members had any ill intentions, it still felt good to hear the apology. You still didn’t want Spencer to run himself in the ground though. So, you grabbed his hand again.

“I do accept your apology, Spencer. And I’m glad that we talked about it. I don’t want you to feel guilty anymore though, alright? Well, maybe a little. But promise me to not lose any sleep over it anymore.” Spencer smiled at you, shrugging a little.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, that’s good enough for now”, you grinned back at him.

“Did you know that prior social neuroscience studies have shown that similar areas in the brain are activated when we experience physical and social pain?”

You arched a playful eyebrow at Spencer’s little fact as if to say “oh, I hadn’t noticed” and couldn’t help but laugh at Spencer’s bashful expression when he noticed what he’d said.

“Well, do you also have a fun fact about Red Velvet Cake, because I’m going to bully you into buying me a slice and another coffee.”

“Of course I do. The recipe was known to the public for revenge. When it first originated, a Lady ate the cake in a restaurant and liked it quite a lot. She asked the restaurant for the recipe but they charged her $100 for it. She became so enraged that she widely spread the recipe as a form of revenge.”

You couldn’t help your laughter as he went to buy you the cake and another drink without even arguing. Of course Spencer would know random facts about cake. And of course Spencer would feel guilty. He was a brilliant man, even though you were sure that even brilliant was an understatement sometimes, and he was the one person on the team that always paid attention to everyone and everything. You were pretty sure that he had beaten himself up over not noticing those past few days. You just hoped that your words had helped a little. Just as his words had soothed an ache inside your heart.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon watching the people passing outside the café and trying to make up stories about them. Spencer sent you into hysterics with an elaborate story about an elderly lady dressed in fur, who in his opinion was a foreign spy from western Europe trying to steal the secret cat food recipe so her 37 cats back home would finally be content and not wake her up at 4am anymore.

Feeling more content than you had in the last few days, except maybe for right after you’d eaten Rossi’s Lasagna, you made your way home. Feeling like staying on the team might actually be the right thing to do. You hadn’t lied to Spencer when you’d told him that you felt that you all could work through the issue at hand.

---

In the following two days you met up with both Emily and JJ. Emily had been quite frank as always. She’d asked you why you’d never said anything at all but backtracked pretty fast when she noticed how the question might sound to you.

“I just- I can’t believe the entire team was that stupid. We’re all profilers, the best of the best at that. We should have noticed. We all know the ‘no profiling each other’ rule doesn’t work either way because we subconsciously do so anyways”, she’d explained awkwardly before apologising for the situation at hand.

You were content with that, however. Everyone knew that Emily was a private person, guarding her life and her emotions very well. Often times it was only Hotch who could see though her, but then again Hotch could see through almost everyone.

To say that you had been surprised when Emily suddenly hugged you would be an understatement. Returning the hug, she’d quietly apologized and promise to pay more attention. Only after you had accepted the apology, she’d dragged you to go out and get drinks.

The meeting with JJ had been pretty similar. She’d straight up apologized and promised to do better. She knew the impact feeling unworthy could have first hand, she’d explained hinting at her sister. You both had talked through the situation while Will supplied both of you with non-alcoholic drinks on a semi-regular basis.

You had also briefly talked about what you would do if you were to decide not to stay on the team. JJ had been supportive and offered to introduce you to some of the people working in the other teams if you decided to leave. Due to her time as media liaison, she knew quite a lot people outside the BAU Team.

The meeting had then shifted into a catch up on different topics and you had been supplied several pictures of Henry, who was at a birthday party at the moment. He seemed to be a sweet child if all the pictures were anything to go by. JJ promised to introduce you in the near future. You also found that Will had quite a wicked sense of humour and was great to talk to. Once the serious discussion had been over, he had joined the two of you. You hadn’t really interacted with him before and were happy to find out that he was a great guy. Not that you’d doubted that before.

Garcia was the one person you had dreaded a little. Not because you didn’t want to talk to her or didn’t like her. But because this talk was bound to be the most emotional out of all of them. You decided to stop by her apartment on your way back from another outing, thinking maybe a surprise visit might make things easier. Boy had you been wrong. Waiting for Garcia to open the door after ringing the doorbell, she froze the moment she’d opened the door and realized who was standing in front of her. You were sure she’d tried her best to keep her emotions in check, but she failed miserably.

“Oh God, Y/N?”, she’d greeted you, staring at you like she’d never seen you before. You had smiled at her a little awkwardly and uttered a joking “surprise!”, before she reacted, asking you if she could hug you which you gladly granted. You hadn’t quite expected her to start crying at that. Even though in retrospect you should have. No sooner had some of her tears spilled over did she start to apologise. You let her get everything out before gently asking her to slow down a little.

“God, I’m so sorry. I promised myself not to cry, I don’t want to guilt trip you or anything. Really! I’m just so glad to see you.” You did reassure her that it was alright before both of you settled down to talk about the misunderstandings and everything that had happened.

“I know we were all pretty blind and everything. But I promise that we did want to have you there. I even photoshopped you into some of the pictures we took because it felt like they were missing something without you. The team isn’t really the team without you, Y/N.” And damn, as ridiculous as it sounded, your heart felt warmed at her words. The fact that there were photoshopped pictures of those outings having you in them made it very clear that you had been wanted there. Garcia even showed you a few. And while it hurt a little to see the pictures of your team grinning at the camera without you having been there with them, you were quite impressed by Garcia’s photoshop skills. Not surprised though.

---

After the talk with Garcia you did feel ready to make your final decision. You were pretty sure already but decided to sleep on it another night. Once you had decided you texted Garcia to ask if the team was on a case and were relived to hear that they actually had two off days lined up. Now that you had made up your mind you wanted to inform Hotch as soon as possible.

Hotch had been very sweet those past days, for lack of better words. He had stayed in contact with you, checking up on you and how you were feeling regularly. You’d always informed him if you met up with any member of the team, feeling like he should know that it was part of your decision process. He had been supportive of that, letting you know off days or when the team was on a case so you could plan the meetings as well as possible.

It felt weird to stand in front of his door now, though. You hadn’t been here before and doubted your decision a little. Maybe you should have waited and planned on going to the office to tell him. Now that you were already here though, you felt stupid to just leave again. You could hear a child laughing through the open window, presumably Jack, whom you hadn’t met yet either, as well as Hotch’s deep voice. Taking a deep breath you rang the doorbell, expecting your boss to open the door. In front of you stood a young boy, however. You smiled at him.

“Are you Miss Y/N?”, he asked curiously.

“I am!”, you smiled at him. “I guess you have to be Jack then? How did you know it was me?”

Jack nodded vigorously, leaning closer to you as if to tell you a secret.

“I saw you standing outside and asked Daddy who you were”, he told you very seriously which made you laugh.

“Won’t you let our guest in, buddy?”, you heard Hotch’s voice coming closer. Jack grinned and moved back to let you step in before closing the door.

“Hi Hotch”, you smiled at the man moving towards the two of you. He was wearing casual clothes again which made absolute sense, but you were so used to seeing him wearing suits that you were still taken aback a little. If anyone had asked you three weeks ago if Hotch even owned Jeans, you would have laughed and answered with a very definite no.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Do come in. We were just making Breakfast in case you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I haven’t”, you acknowledged and followed him into an open living room.

“Make yourself comfortable. Pancakes are done in a few minutes.” Jack climbed up on the couch to sit beside you once you had settles.

“Daddy makes the best pancakes!”, he informed you happily.

“I see, I am in good hands then!” Jack nodded in agreement before moving on the book sat beside him, which he had apparently discarded to open the door. It was about snakes.

“Did you know that Snakes smell with their tongues?”, Jack asked you suddenly. You nodded in agreement.

“Mhm. Did you know that some Snakes can sense heat which is how they know where their prey is located?” Jack stared at you wide-eyed and shook his head. You gently took the book from him, searching for a side which had a big enough picture of a Pit Viper.

“You see the two small holes in its face? They’re called pits and the snake can use those to sense heat. It’s how they know where to attack in the dark. They can also hear vibrations in their jaw bones. They can’t hear the way we do. They use a bone attached to their jaw called a quadrate to sense vibrations, which is also how they can locate anything that moves.”

Hotch chose that moment to come back with a huge stack of pancakes that he placed on the dinner table which was already set for three people. Seems like you might have stood outside far longer that you thought you had.

“You know a lot about snakes”, he stated while moving around to get some orange juice. Domestic Life definitely suited him.

“I do. I used to have snakes for most my life. They’re pretty cool.”

“Do you still have one?”, Jack asked excitedly which made you laugh.

“I do. I have a small Rosy Boa called Daisy. She’s quite a docile girl. Maybe I can introduce you one day.”

You looked up to find Hotch quietly laughing, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You called your snake Daisy?”

“Sure. I’ve always named my snakes after flowers. Not gonna change that tradition until I run out of names.”

Having won Jack over by simply liking snakes, Breakfast was a lively affair. You knew that Hotch was a good dad, you’d never doubted it. It showed in the way he always made sure to call his son while on cases and the fact that he often felt like he didn’t do enough. It was a little weird to witness the domestic scenes, still. It was a harsh contrast to the person Hotch was at the office. You weren’t about to complain though. It was a refreshing change, and you were glad that Hotch felt comfortable sharing that side of him with you.

It was after Breakfast that Jessica swung by to pick Jack up for a play date with another friend, which later turned out to be Henry. You were pretty sure that it was a spontaneous meet up which Hotch had organised after seeing you standing in front of his door. Before leaving jack came over to give you a hug and say goodbye, but not before telling you that he hoped that you stayed on his dad’s team because you made it better. When you just stared at him confused, he grinned at you.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/N, Daddy didn’t tell me to say that to you. I just listen when Daddy talks about work and you sound like you made the team a better place. He still has the mug you gave him for his birthday last year (which had a corny joke about grumpy pants on it) and he often said that you brought the team breakfast.”

“Thank you, Jack”, you answered, still stunned. You hadn’t expected a child to be so insightful. Then again it was Hotch’s child, maybe you should have expected it. You settled back on the couch while Hotch saw his son off, taking note of the memorabilia in the room as well as the array of toys and children books.

“So, I take it that you’ve made a final decision?”, Hotch asked as he was moving back towards you, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.

You just nodded and gratefully took the offered mug, turning slightly more towards Hotch who was studying you closely.

“I know that I already said it at Rossi’s, but I’d like to apologize again. We were blind when we absolutely shouldn’t have been. In our job we see how people hurt each other every day, we look for any sings, clues or behaviours that validate our thesis. We should have noticed them in one of our own sooner, even though there shouldn’t have been any reason for you to feel the way you felt, at all. I’m sure that each member of the team has already said it, but there really is no excuse for how we acted.” Hotch’s voice, while barely ever aggressive when not talking to an unsub or a suspect, was positively gentle and soft. No sign of the usually stern edge to his voice, no glare, no frown. By now you were pretty sure that the Hotch at work was just a persona he put on to shield the team from any possible harm.

“I do accept your apology, Hotch. What you said at Rossi’s about me feeling the way I felt about the situation has really helped me deal with the whole process. I felt a little ridiculous at first, but I now can accept that it was a misunderstanding. You’re also right. We all should have noticed sooner and communicated with each other better”, Hotch nodded along, his head tilted in question though, which made you smile. “I say we, because I am aware that I could have said something sooner. Communication is a two-way street after all.” At that Hotch was about to interrupt you, but you gently shushed him by grabbing his hand.

“I know that no one of you had any ill intend. And I am pretty sure that we can all work through the situation at hand. That doesn’t mean I don’t expect a fancy coffee as a welcome when I come back to work next week.” It took him a few moments to process what you had said, but once he did a delighted smile appeared on his face, one which you’d never seen before. You did like it though. Hotch was your Boss, but you would acknowledge that he was indeed attractive any day. The smile made him seem years younger and he was positively glowing, looking more than handsome. You grinned back at him. His hand, that you were still holding, gently squeezed yours and he leaned closer towards you.

“I am really glad to hear that, Y/N. I will personally make sure that any coffee wishes will be fulfilled. It’s the least we can do. The bullpen really hasn’t been the same without you.”

“What do you mean?” You were pretty sure that your impact at work had been minimal at best. After all, the bullpen was loud, noisy and chaotic and you usually didn’t participate in any of the shenanigans.

“Let’s see… Derek has noticed that the spoiled food from the common use kitchen area didn’t magically disappear anymore. He even questioned the cleaning lady about it and asked if that was part of her usual tasks. Which, of course, it wasn’t. Several team members have also found that their favourite coffee creamers aren’t actually part of the company’s provided products. Rossi has found that he doesn’t receive assorted files of interesting crime reports and difficult crossword puzzles anymore and Derek has found that all his mugs don’t just clean themselves. Garcia was very bereft when she found out that no one of the other girls had given her clippings showing the most colourful clothes of the season and the amount of times Emily had a breakdown over her printer not working over the last two weeks is simply astounding. JJ no longer has pre-sorted files on her desk and Reid doesn’t receive random book recommendations or interesting news articles on some obscure scientific subject anymore. And my own piles of cases have mysteriously grown without the workload changing and are no longer sorted. Just as I have found out that I apparently didn’t just forget that I had hung up Jack’s drawings in my office almost all the time when I noticed that I don’t even have the little magnets used for the board. And the only constant that has changed over the past few weeks is you not being in the office, Y/N. So you see, you made quite an impact without anyone, including yourself, noticing. You made the place feel friendlier and just so much warmer, that we all felt quite bereft. Not just because things were suddenly different, but because we saw how much you did for us and how little we gave you in return.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Hotch while he was stating all that in his usual matter of fact kind of way. You were feeling so many emotions at once that it was difficult to grasp one to concentrate on. Your mouth was opening and closing, oddly reminiscent to the situation at Rossi’s dinner. But this time you didn’t feel absolute dread curse through your body, of that you were sure at least. You felt warm and fuzzy and a sense of disbelieve that finally someone had noticed all the small things you did. You had never been the best with showing that you cared, always trying to show it through small acts of service that would make someone else’s day a little brighter or a task a little less daunting.

“I’ve made you cry again”, Hotch muttered softly, pulling you closer towards him. Only then did you notice that you were indeed crying. Twice in a row. In front of your Boss. You couldn’t help yourself though, and moved even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, and squeezing him.

“Thank you”, you said quietly through your tears.

“Are you thanking me for making you cry?” An incredulous laugh escaped his lips at the situation, and you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m thanking you because no one really noticed those things before. Even though the situation might not be ideal, you did notice. It’s always been my way of showing that I care but it usually gets overlocked in everyday life.” You felt how Hotch’s arms pulled you closer towards him before he settled against the back of the couch, one hand running through your hair and the other one rubbing soothing circles on your arm.

“I don’t really think we deserve you, but I’m glad you decided to stay on the team.” His voice was quiet, but he had rested his cheek against your hair, so you could hear him perfectly fine.

”Me as well”, you responded just a quietly. And you really were. You couldn’t wait to start over with everyone and to move on from this whole mess. You felt your body relaxing against Hotch’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of safety and being cared for. It wasn’t exactly what you had expected from Hotch when all of this started, but maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he was the one always making little jokes to see other’s smile or offered encouragement and help if anyone on the team needed it – no questions asked. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, carefully turning your face to look at him.

“I promise that things will change once you’re back. Well do our best to make up for our mistakes and to make sure you’ll always feel like a wanted and needed, valuable member of our team. I promise, I’ll do better.” The last part of the sentence stuck with you. Of course he would feel responsible for the entire situation.

“I know you will, Hotch. I trust you.”

You could feel how his own body relaxed at your words and felt content with the knowledge that you had eased his mind a little. You snuggled back against his side, closing your eyes and taking the feeling of contentment in. His arms wrapped tighter around you and his chin came back to rest on top of your head. Had anyone told you four weeks ago that you would end up on Hotch’s couch and snuggled into his side, you would have laughed at them. Now though, you would hardly trade that place for anything.

---

On your first day back at the BAU everyone was shocked to see you. You had made Hotch promise not to tell them anything. Still, you found a steaming cup your favourite coffee as well as a bagel from your favourite bakery on you desk. Looking up, you smiled at Hotch who had remembered the little demand you had made in jest the other day. What really made your heart melt though was a colourful self-made welcome back card from Jack, which you found once you opened one of your drawers.

The team welcomed you back with open arms and hugs, and maybe a few tears on Garcia’s part. You were surprised that you seamlessly fit into the dynamics after everything that had happened. The first few weeks you were cautious, expecting to find out that there were meet ups you hadn’t been invited to or to see random new photos of the group with everyone except for you. It didn’t happen though. Instead you found yourself sitting in-between your colleagues and friends at team dinners in Rossi’s living room or garden every month, as well as some of the weirdest Bars and Clubs you’d ever seen on a semi-regular basis. Every other week you and Rossi met up for private dinners, mostly consisting of his Nonna’s receipts – some of which he’d even taught you. Those nights were a safe-heaven for you, having found a father-like figure in your friend. When there was enough time or pent up frustrations, you found yourself at one of Derek’s construction sides to help him out and learning loads of new things from him. Both of you had constructed the perfect library in your little home in no time, a room Spencer was frequently found in now. Somehow, you weren’t quite sure how it had happened, you found yourself a part of Derek’s and Garcia’s pre-established movie nights as well, finding out that Derek didn’t just like Disney films but was a sucker for Rom-Coms. Emily, JJ and Garcia had also roped you into joining their shopping and spa days. While you could get behind the spa part, shopping really wasn’t something you considered fun. The girls made it bearable though and the promise of after-shopping-drinks kept you joining most of the time. The number of conventions you had visited with Spencer was way too high, but you didn’t really care. Derek was suffering under it, since you also had joined his and Spencer’s film nights. With you in the picture and mostly on Spencer’s side when it came to film choices, his try to teach Spencer pop culture was for naught. Emily, who secretly was a foodie, had introduced you to a ton of new restaurants and dishes as well as renowned night clubs you’d never set a foot in otherwise and jazz bars you adored. You also spent a lot of time with Hotch and Jack, introducing them to Daisy and joining them on day trips to the zoo or the aquarium as well as joining his weekend soccer matches with the rest of the team. Every now and then while on a case, you found yourself enjoying a glass of scotch with Hotch in privacy, talking about Jack or any other subject that came to your minds.

For one miserable year you had felt like you were on a never-ending treasure hunt, searching for a place to call your home. Searching for a place to feel safe and to feel warm. It had been draining to pretend that you belonged within the team, to pretend to like and understand what they were saying. You had asked yourself where you belonged every day. And you finally had found a solid answer.

---

“When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.” Brene Brown

---

Sei un raggio di sole  – You are a ray of sunshine

Puffetta - Smurfette

Gioia  – joy

passerotto/a – “sparrow”, usually exclusive to girls

Dolcezza - sweetness

caro mio/cara – My Dear

Bellissimo/a - gorgeous

---

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! I have to admit that you might have made me cry a little with all your kind words and appreciation. Thank you for waiting so patiently for part 3, I know that it took me ages to write… Life just really got in the way of things. I had to shorten it a little and cut the lengthier parts about the meetings with Emily, JJ and Garcia. I might post them as an excerpt one of these days. I really like the parts dealing with Rossi, Derek and Hotch. With the rest I’m a bit unsure, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Part 4 is going to be the alternative ending in which the reader leaves the team.

I hope you enjoyed part 3!

----

Taglist (I hope I got everyone that asked to be tagged. If not, please let me know):

@measure-in-pain @yourfavoritefangirl @dollylolitasworld @abbeyskeff @stupidassgryffindor @lovurryy @mojo366 @fruittiest-of-loops @softieekayy @fandomalert31

@the-person-in-the-circle @no-soy-fer @theodorereaken @beeblisss @wishfulwithwine @champagneneen @strangunddurm @crocodilefeet2707 @elleclairez @ilovewomeen

@snakequeen13 @lolilkkk @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @daddy-jareau @unlikelyfurywolf @adhdannieedison @thelittlecatalex @mess-is-my-aesthetic @superskittles @sj22071s

@elleisalwayssleepy @noisy-head @marauderssimpcuzwhytfnot @shesoperfectt @feltonswifesworld87 @kakashis-formal-simp @yourfavunsub @lokigirlszendaya @sophiaj650 @venomsvl

@himboelover @multi-fandom-imagines @kingjuli3n @maybeblakeley @sayukoi @gojutsu @my-beel @users09 @buckysmainhxe @fandom-has-taken-me-hostage

@heyhowareyaxd @lokisnumber1whore @lightjoh @sebastiansstanswhore @stcrrjoon @shamelessfangirl-3

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #david rossi x reader #david rossi #penelope garcia #penelope garcia x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jereau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #bau team #bau team x reader #cm

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roryculkinsbf · 4 months

Text

million dollar man // coriolanus snow

Description: Christmast Eve with breadwinner Coriolanus Snow, taking care of his future wife

TW: smut, dom!coryo, housewife!reader, controlling over the reader, praise kink

Word count: 1.5k

(English isn't my first language, and I do not own the characters)

One for the money,

two for the show,

I love you, honey,

I'm ready to go...

Round Christmas time everything seems a bit too busy, crowded streets and malls. People on every corner, not single free space to live. The world just turns that way as soon as November comes around. There's no exception for the chaos, not even in Capitol. City created and ruled by the cruel men who swore to be good, failing audibly after their proud hearts wished for power over ordinary human beings. Many rebels wished to tear this fucked up system down, district citizens buried themselves in fear and your boyfriend wasnt making it any better. A boy who once promised to destroy the bad, turned himself right into the dead void. Heart beating, blood pumping, but oh kindness faded by those who dared to doubt. He became a living corpse, only one who bring warmth into his existence was you. Each time you wanted to leave for better, you came running back. Something very wrong seemed like a drug in him, but before you could realize, your addiction became deadly. Merry Christmas, I guess?

"Morning, sweetheart," he splashed a kiss into your cheek. His hands grabbed you by your waist in a dominant manner. He kinda liked to show off his control, except not just kinda and mostly over you. "Morning, Coriolanus." Soft moan spilled into his mouth when he squeezed your little butt. You could hear as he kissed your neck, muffled words of "all mine". Normally you'd probably let him go on and bend you over the kitchen desk, but it was Christmas Eve today, and he simply has to wait.

"Not now, Coryo..s-stop..." you whimpered at the feeling of him taking the best of you. His hand was moving lower by the slowest pace posssible. His fingers slipped into your underwer, you closed your eyes. One single slick by your soft spot and suddenly he wasn't touching you at all.

When you opened your eyes, he was holding a cup and sipping the bitter-sweet liquid from it. Nothing about his expression mentioned the fact that you two almost did it. "What are you staring at, m'lady? It's you who told me to stop, remember? And you've got work to do anyway. Get into it, for me." He ordered with a smug grin not long before he walked to his office, ready to let you prepare for this whole day all by yourself. You were the housemaker afterall, not him. And you have to make sure your man is pleased, it's your job.

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

"God Lord, Y/n...I've never eaten such a food in my life. That ham, and the mashed potatoes. Don't even get me started on the casserole, somehow you made me love green beans, princess. You're one hell of a cook, know I'm keeping you forever." There was simply no way to stop his praises. Damn well you knew you deserved them, you worked you ass off. The dishes you prepared were strange to you, yet familiar after each smile he gave you when he took the first bite. Seeing him fulfilled was all you needed.

"Thank you so much, Coryo. I made sure to prepare the best dinner I could manage, and as I see it payed off quite well, didn't it?" A warm smile filled your cheeks. He coudln't resist to reach his hand to your face, fingers delicately stroking your flushed skin. "Are you so red just for me, princess? You're such a pretty little sweet thing."

Kisses splanded all over your lips, washing you over with passion. His brain got foggy just from the pureness of you, the redness of your skin each second. Because as they passed, he kept pulling you closer and closer, until no forces could ever possibly seperate you. His arms held you, shield from blood and flesh, the good feeling of being protected and elogiezed by a man. You gave in. No one could ever have you as much as he did, you sure know that.

Rough lips bruised your neck, leaving tumescent spots for you to admire tomorrow. Long way along your collarbone, shoulders. You were becoming his each moment, the world belonged to you two and he rulled every way that Earth dared to orbit for you.

Part of the sky crashed when he rougly pushed you against the kitchen table. Your chin met a set of ceramic bowls fillled with food. Few glasses, wine and regular ones slipped when you pulled at the fancy cloth, what was shiny got poured over with all sorts of things. The great scent of food turned into a gross mess when a pot ringed as it hit the floor. Soup was flooding all over the dining room and you wanted to cry. No, you wanted to grab your shit-ass boyfriend by his shirt and choke him to death for daring to ruin hours of your hard work.

The sound of him rolling his eyes filled the room. "You're gonna clean that later, now be pretty and good for me. You know you can, darling." He massaged your ass under that mini skirt he made you wear. Big manly hand squeezed you until you felt incredibly helpless and small. He enjoyed he could boss you around, do anything to your tired body, play with you however he wanted to. And so he did.

"Let me get you dolled up." From his pocket he pulled a thin fabric, wasting no time he began twisting it around your thighs, legs, butt even. It was a red ribbon, you didn't even process when he layed it over your wet pussy.

"W-what's that for?" You couldn't understand. "Just...preparing a gift for myself, so fucking soft and all mine." He dropped right to his knees, as he pushed his face in between your butt cheeks. digging deep in he made a way across your pussy with his tongue. Somehow he was on you, in you. Digging into you, and you could feel heat all over yourself. His nails kept you in your place as he ate you out. Seeming like a starved man, he couldn't just get enough of his future wife. You were even more pressed against the table than before, nothing to muffle your moans against. Whispers echoed throughout the whole room, his pride and ego expanding with each sound.

"C-coryo..." You whimpered audibly. Closing your eyes so hard, shutting them in pleasure thinking they might not even ever open again. You couldn't stop grasping at the cloth, not until his face switched to two long fingers. He stood up and with one arm pinned you against himself, with other he got lost inside of you deep. "Shhh... princess, my pretty girl. You better get that pussy stretched out good, before I fuck you hm? Be good and let me prepare you for me, mkay?" Despite your body shaking you nodded to his words. You could hear him purr. "That's my girl."

More minutes passed, you felt already fucked out. Brain soggy and legs trembling, all wet from how much he overstimulated you. When he pulled out, he braught his hand to your face. "Taste yourself, love. Go on." With your tongue you licked all the silky substance off. Each lick drawn made his pants tighten even more. His dick was begging to be touched, to be taken care of.

Even if it embarassed you all too well, his will to be in charge and the bigger one just took over you. "Master, please... I... need you. S-so bad..." you whispered. Hot breath brushed around your neck. "Oh, I know you do, my princess." He unziped his pants. "You're always such a fuck-doll for me, sweetie." His dick slid out is boxers, standing in pride and arousal. "Want your master to fuck you pretty now?" He already teased your clit by fucking into the space between your thighs and pussy. "Mhm.." You whimpered. "Oh, but honey you know I need words. Tell me what you want and consider it done. Hm?" You sighed and breathed out all your self-respect into the heavy air with the words: "Yes, please fuck me, master. Deep and hard, I can take it all for you."

"Such a good girl," He whispered as his cock slipped right into you. Precum softened the first thrust, but the ones following braught your face to red. He couldn't help but smack at your bare flesh, like fucking you wide opened wasn't enough. Like he needed to feel you all around, in his hands, in his whole power. And fuck it, let's be honest, you liked that. Each firm thrust that just felt like a crack into your body, every hit, every moan that vocalized from his mouth, his thumb massaging your tiny clit. Surrounded by torturing pleasure, you let him make this the most unforgettable Christmas of all your lives.

#hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #smut #writers on tumblr #coryo snow #president snow

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 6 - Baking & Cookie Decorating

pairing: pre-steddie | word count: 1,911 | rated: G

A couple days later finds Eddie on his way to Steve’s house at the early as fuck hour of 8:30am

“AARrugh–fuuck!” he curses again, trying to stifle down another cracking yawn, “It should be illegal to be up this early.”

“You mean the normal time people get up?”

“No, normal is lunchtime. Realistic is two.”

“God, you’re such a loser.”

“And yet you still hang out with me.”

“Uh, no. I hang out with Steve and El and Lucas and sometimes Dustin. You’re just there by association.”

“Ouch Red, that hurts my soul.” He winces dramatically

“What soul?”

Eddie grins at her, “Touché, Maxine”

Her tiny, pointy knuckles meet his bicep as he pulls Bessie into the Harringtons’ driveway.

They’re having a pre-thanksgiving dinner with the party before they all have actual Thanksgiving with each of their families, and Max insisted on coming over early to help Steve with preparations.

“If we don’t go help, he’s going to do it all by himself you know.”

“Robin will be there, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna do everything by himself. You know Robin is moral support at best.”

“And what are we gonna be, huh? You think I’m any better?”

She had huffed at that. “We’re going, Munson.”

So, here they are. Like Eddie suspected, as soon as they breach the front door, Robin is visible on one of the stools at the island, sleep rumpled and a mug in hand, and Steve is standing at the stove already.

“Good ‘morrow to you, Lord and Lady Buckley,” Eddie bellows, startling them both, “Myself and the young Miss Mayfield have traveled far to be with you on this momentous day, and to offer to you our services.” he gives them a dramatic bow, glancing up through his lashes.

Steve is grinning, Robin has collapsed forward onto the counter in front of her, Max is groaning.

He stands straight again, “We may only be a couple of lowly peasants in your Kingdom, but the call to help was unavoidable.”

“Eddie did not want to come help, lemme make that clear.”

“Shut up, Max”

“You shut up, liar–”

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughs, interrupting them, “Many thanks to you both for making the trip; your help will be greatly appreciated.”

Eddie’s stomach goes soupy, he loves when Steve plays along.

“So, what can we do?” he asks, clapping his hands once and rubbing his palms together like he’s itching to get started.

“Well, it is still pretty early (“I told you.”, “Shut up, Eddie.”), so right now you can help by telling me how you like your eggs.”

The turkey goes into the oven halfway through breakfast, Steve having prepped it last night, so Steve starts to cipher out what else he needs to make.

“Dustin said that Claudia was making a pumpkin pie for us, so we’re set there, I’m making the sweet potato casserole, Lucas said that his mom is sending over a pan of greens with him and Erica, Robin has the stuffing covered–”

“I make a mean can of Stovetop.” Robin cuts in from the sink where she’s washing the few dishes from breakfast.

“Pretty much everyone else is bringing something…” Steve looks lost for a moment, then his expression turns tense, that crease between his brows cuts deep into his skin.

Max must see this too because she says, “What about cookies?”

“Cookies?”

“Yeah, like the sugar cookies you made everyone a tin of last year?” “You made everyone sugar cookies?? Why wasn’t I given any?” Steve rolls his eyes, “‘Cause last year you were just Eddie “The Freak” Munson,”

“Hey–I resent that,” Eddie pokes Steve in the chest, “I’m still Eddie “The Freak” Munson, thank you very much.” “Many apologies, Your Freak-ness, how ever shall I make it up to you.” His tone is sarcastic, but the words make a whole matter of unsavory retorts gather on Eddie’s tongue.

“C’mon Steve, I want those damn cookies!” Max demands, smacking a palm onto the counter to really sell it.

“Hey! Language.”

“I also want some of those damn cookies.” Robin agrees.

“Yeah c’mon Stevie, I didn’t get to have any last year and now I’m curious.” “Dude, they’re the best cookies ever. I hate that he only makes them once a year.”

“Okay, okay, fine! Lemme make sure I have everything I need.”

He does, so he gets to work as requested demanded, though he does send Max and Robin (with her newly acquired license) to the store for powdered sugar. “For the frosting..I’m sure you want frosting on these, right?”

Eddie sticks close after they leave, watching Steve work and passing him ingredients.

At one point, Eddie scoops up a cup of flour for him, only to have Steve wrap his hand over his on the handle of the cup and start to stir the flour in it with a fork.

“Uh, do you always need to stir your flour before putting it in?” Is that a thing? Eddie has never done that, even within the few times he’s ever actually baked something before.

“You do if the person scooping packs it into the cup like this.” Steve teases, spinning the fork around in his hand to scrape the now-overflowing heap of flour off the top of the measuring cup and back into the bag with the handle. “Flour doesn’t get packed down to measure, fluffy and loose measurements only.” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand forward and upends the cup over the mixing bowl.

Eddie’s mouth feels like it’s coated in flour.

“There! Perfect. I’ll need another cup just like that one.” Steve smiles and passes the fork to him.

He lets Eddie's hand go and turns back to the bowl, mixing the flour in with one of those rubber scraping spatulas instead of using the electric beater he’d used for the eggs and sugar.

“So,” Eddie re-wets the inside of his mouth so he can talk correctly, “Why do you only make these once a year?” He carefully scoops up another helping of flour.

“They’re usually Christmas cookies and I– aw shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any non-Christmas themed cookie cutters.”

Eddie immediately thinks back to one of the last Christmases he had with his mom. Ouch…damn it.

He gulps down the lump in his throat. “Do you have any empties?”

Eddie can feel Steve watching him as he works, carefully cutting the tops and bottoms off a good sized bag of empty soda and beer cans over the sink. He cuts the new aluminum rectangles in half lengthwise and sets the strips aside.

“You’ve made these before?”

“Yep! Easier to make your own than buy them, y’know?”

Steve chuckles, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“My mom liked to make new ones every year, so I have a lot of practice doing this,” Eddie pushes on, picking up a strip of metal and folds it in half lengthwise. “We’ll need some tape for the open side, but basically you fold it like this, shape it however you want, and fold the ends over each other to keep them closed.”

He demonstrates, making a messy heart shape pretty quickly. “You can link more than one together if you want, too. Make bigger ones…Ta da!” He shows off the ‘finished’ shape.

“Sweet!”

By the time Robin and Max return, Eddie’s got a pile of aluminum strips ready to go, and Steve’s done with the dough.

“Perfect timing, ladies, come help us make cookie cutters.”

Max pulls up a stool immediately, grabbing a couple of the metal strips, but Robin huffs. “Aw, what? We have to make the cookie cutters first? I thought I’d come home to a house full of cookies, Steve.”

“The dough has to chill in the fridge for an hour, and we don’t have any Thanksgiving themed ones.” Steve says, rolling his eyes at her. “Also, you weren’t even gone that long!”

Robin pulls up a stool, “Excuses, Steven.”

Turns out, there’s not that many shapes associated with turkey day, so after the obligatory pumpkin shape, and a surprisingly well-shaped turkey-looking blob, they make whatever else they feel like.

Robin uses a ruler she found in a drawer to fold some ridges into a circle shape, “It’s a pie, obviously.”, Steve uses a few strips to make what he says is an elephant, “Yeah, an elephant. These are the two ears and this is the trunk.”, Max uses two of the strips to make some sort of flower shape with five pointy petals, “A…poinsettia?” Eddie asks; “A demogorgon.” Steve and Max say at the same time. Ah., and Eddie spends his time linking a good few together to make the Hellfire demon.

“I hope this doesn’t get all blob-y.”

Steve looks over at his creation, “It shouldn’t, the dough holds up pretty well when it’s baked; that’s why you let it chill for a bit.”

He stands then, retrieving the saran-wrapped hunk of dough from the fridge and gets to work rolling it out.

Eddie watches the muscles in his arms bunch and pull, and, like a sap, thinks about how they’d feel wrapped around him. He likes hugs, okay? Sue him.

The four of them cut batch after batch after batch of cookies (each of them sneaking bites of the dough as they do), and by time they are baked and fully cooled, the sweet potatoes are in the oven, the stuffing is sitting done on the stove, there’s a sheet of rolls waiting to go in after the casserole, the others start to show up.

“Oh sweet, cookies!” Dustin’s finger immediately dunks into the bowl of frosting Steve just finished whipping up.

“Hey! Hands off, asshole, I still need to color some of that.

Steve passes Eddie a bowl of the stuff, a couple of drops of food coloring sitting on top. “Mix that up, will you?” I’m making the orange, that’s yellow.”

Eddie gives him a mock salute, “You got it boss.”

“Henderson, grab the sprinkles, you’re helping with these.”

The island is a disaster by the time they are done frosting the cookies. There’s colored sugar everywhere, loose M&Ms, broken pretzels, and there’s even a glob of red frosting hanging precariously from the underside of one of the far cabinet doors (somehow).

Each of the new arrivals grab up a couple of the cookies to decorate once they get in, adding their own goofy-looking additions to the heap.

Mike and Nancy are the last to arrive, toting a huge bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes, and they dig into the turkey soon after.

They eat and eat and eat, laughing and eating some more, that by the time anyone gets around to the cookies, the very outside of their frosting has hardened to a crust and the inside is still soft and sugary.

“Oh my god, Steve.” Eddie moans, “This is the best cookie I’ve ever tasted.”

Steve’s face flushes pink, but he smiles wide. “I’m glad you like them, Eds.”

“I need to take some home to Wayne.”

Steve passes him a tupperware container of their creations as he’s leaving, along with an index card with Steve’s distinct handwriting is scrawled across it; the recipe for the cookies.

Eddie gets home that night just before Wayne heads in for his shift. “Y’have a good day, son?” he asks, plucking out one of the cookies from the container Eddie holds open for him as they pass each other in the doorway.

He smiles wide, “Very..”

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 12

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Can the two of you fix the damage that has been done? Or is it too late?

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of injuries, British slang/terminology, strong language, mask is off

Word count: 1.4k (a baby in comparison to other parts)

A/N: Took a break from writing this series, mostly because I was burned out and had lots of uni work to be doing, but also because I needed time to think the ending through to give you all the best of what I’m capable of. It’s not as long as other parts but I feared that if I didn’t write it now then I would never write it. It’s pretty much where I always intended the story to go, just with a lot less conversation than originally planned. There will still be an epilogue after this but for now… enjoy!

When Ghost awoke, blinded by fluorescent hospital lights, and he saw Price standing at the foot of his bed with a deep-set frown... well, he knew things weren't good. It didn't help that you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't expect you to be fawning over him and nursing him back to health or anything. But no trace of you in the hospital room at all was not an encouraging sight.

"Am I dead?" Simon said gruffly, immediately coughing as his lungs clearly had something wrong with them.

Price scoffed. "You wish."

"Damn." He attempted to sit up straight, groaning when pain stabbed through his torso. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. You were shot. Several times."

"Nothing new then." He sighed and looked at Price again, a grave look crossing his face. "Where is she?"

The captain hesitated for a moment before replying. "Home."

Shit, that definitely wasn't good.

"Why?" Simon didn't really want to know, too scared of the truth, but he needed to know.

"She was severely injured. Needed better medical attention than we could give her and then some time off once she recovers. She's home now but still in remission." Price checked his watch quickly, clearing his throat when he saw the time.

"Got somewhere to be?" Ghost asked, a sarcastic inflection in his voice.

The captain nodded. "Yes, actually. Already late from waiting for your lazy arse to wake up."

He only grunted in reply and waved his superior out of the room. "Go. I'll be fine.”

"You can go home to her once you've healed a bit more. For now, rest." And with that, Price walked out of the room leaving Simon in silence.

It was okay. He liked silence. Well, more he liked the lack of talking. People talked far too much about insignificant things. Strangely, he missed the sound of your voice chattering about insignificant things. He pushed that thought away and attempted to sleep for a while.

At home, in your flat, you were sick of friends coming over to visit you. Each one seemed to have some form of baked good or casserole and your refrigerator was full to the brim already. You hadn't even been home that long.

The sheer mass of people doting over you was becoming overwhelming in the most annoying way possible. You didn't need them constantly caring for you. Sure, the sentiment was nice enough but you were used to looking after yourself and healing independently. Usually you did it in the (un)comfort of a military hospital or medical tent. Unfortunately for you, you'd been sent home this time and had had no choice in informing your friends of your sudden return back. They just suddenly knew you were there and they were more than willing to help.

"I don't need you to give me a sponge bath." You'd told one with a roll of your eyes, still thinking about earlier in the day when you'd had to tell another that it was perfectly fine for you to drink apple juice and not stick to a strict diet of water.

Honestly, a part of you was enjoying being at home and having time to relax. Even though the cause of it was a little extreme, being able to sit on your sofa all day and watch reruns of old sitcoms as you made your way through every dish stacked in your fridge was nice. Almost... fun.

A part of you longed for something though. Simon. Obviously him. You craved to know how he was doing. When you'd first woken up, a nurse had simply told that he was alive and nothing else. Alive meant nothing. You didn't even know if his condition was stable.

You were worried, to say the least. And even Price wasn't willing to divulge any further information when you'd pressed him for it over the phone. He'd just mumbled something vague and moved on to asking you how you were doing.

It was frustrating. That was for sure.

The days passed and you grew restless, itching to get out of the house again. But you were sensible and followed the suggested instructions from the several doctors that had all agreed that you needed in order to heal properly. It was just a shame that it took so long to happen.

On day, what felt like, one billion of staying at home, there was a knock at the door. And after you'd taken a minute or two shuffling towards it, shouting out a stream of reassurances that you were on your way, you were utterly shocked to find your lieutenant on the doorstep.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before a ridiculous sentiment left your mouth.

"Jesus, is this like those hallucinations you get just before dying?"

Simon said nothing, just the twitch of the corner of his mouth indicated that he had even heard you, and outstretched his fist to you.

In his hand, was an apple.

Specifically, one of the good apples from the farmers' market.

You looked up at him in confusion.

"Peace offering."

That explained it. So, you took it from him and opened the door wider to let him in. You weren't about to turn down a good apple or a peace offering.

Once you'd both settled yourselves into comfortable positions on the sofa, you wincing a few times and growing jealous that he seemed to have healed so quickly, you really took your time to look at him.

You tilted your head to the side and raked your eyes over him. "You're nervous."

"Am I?" His eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Yes." You nodded.

"How can you tell?"

"You scratch at the scars on your face when something is making you anxious."

"Hm." His eyes squinted at that observation, obviously not previously aware that he had that tell.

You moved on, not willing to dwell on that. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting an old friend."

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

He shrugged, still as frustrating as ever. "You should've left me behind."

You'd be shocked if he hadn't been so self-sacrificial in previous times.

"Why would I do that?" You asked, lacing your voice with a mock innocent tone.

"Would've been the smart decision." He snapped.

So you shot right back. "Maybe I'm not smart."

"Yes, you are. You're just stubborn."

The words he'd once told you came tumbling out of your mouth. "A stubborn brat you mean?"

"That too."

You laughed again, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're right. I am stubborn. And I couldn't let you die. The idea of you... I can't stand it. So I let you live for selfish reasons. Alright?"

"You should have let me die."

"Shut up, Simon. That was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes at him and grit your teeth when a shooting pain stabbed through your side as you adjusted your position on the sofa.

Simon's hands raised for a second as if about to help you before he lowered them again.

Instead, he asked a question.

"Why not?"

You looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.

"You know why."

"Maybe I don't."

You sighed. He was so difficult sometimes. Yet, you gave in.

"I..." You trailed off into thought.

But Simon wasn't going to let it go so easily. "You what?"

"I, y'know, I feel..." Your hands waved around as if hoping to grip a coherent answer from the air.

"Feel what?" The slight raise of an eyebrow hinted that he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

You sighed in defeat. "You know what I'm trying to get across here, Simon."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I feel for you. Have feelings. More than platonic. I... care... for you." You cringed at your own clumsiness, wondering when you'd lost your ability to fully communicate with words.

"I know."

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Cocky shit."

"I also care for you."

"I know." You scoffed teasingly.

He just repeated your words back to you. "Cocky shit."

The smiles that broke out across both of your faces were indescribable.

Yeah, the two of you were being slightly more awkward about this than usual but it was never going to be easy to just jump right back in to what you used to have. Smaller steps would have to be taken. And you were fine with that. As was he. You’d get there eventually, it was only a matter of time. After all, some things were just meant to happen.

A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my hiatus! I’m sorry this is a quick resolution but the epilogue is still on the way.

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ladyosiriscreates · 4 months

Note

hi lady osiris!! thank you for offering to take my soap request 💛

can we get a little something about soap x stressed out reader? where she’s had a super long, difficult week?? how would he help her unwind?

Oh I do love this, as someone who is a permanently exhausted pigeon herself and stressed to the max. Let's explore shall we?

Please forgive me, I've never written an x reader before so I do hope you enjoy lovey!

Soap x Fem!Reader for sweet @soapsgf 4.1k words

Tags: Comfort, Smut, mans is good with his hands and better with his mouth. m on v, unprotected sex, fluff, so much fluff.

It had never been uncommon for John Mactavish to fill the silence with his voice, the lilt of it a familiar sound within your apartment. But he'd noticed little changes through the week, what silence did remain wasn't comforting, the dishes and clutter piling up around you even as your eyes darted anxiously about, making tallies on an ever growing list of things needed to be done.

He noted the way you counted on your fingers, twisting and pinching at the skin of your knuckles as if looking for something to ground yourself. Your hands always seeking in their restlessness, a mind that couldn’t quiet even in your sleep.

“M’eudail… What's eating at you? You know I can help you better if we talk about this…” He beckoned, nearly pleading as he drew you into his arms. “Ye cannae deny it at this point, I’ve watched you circle the kitchen four times holding a glass and doing nothing with it.”

“The dishes-” you gasped, pressing your palm to your forehead and groaning. “That’s right, I have to do the dishes so I can take back the casserole dish to Diane, and then I can clean the counter, and make-”

His lips cut off your words, silencing them as his hands found your cheeks, thumbs massaging at the supple flesh. “Fuck the dishes and fuck Diane, she’s been a right cunt lately anyways, I remember you complaining about her monday. She can wait a day or two more for a damn casserole dish. Now. Do ye work tomorrow?” He asked, forehead gently pressed to yours. It was the first he’d felt you relax in days as you melted beneath his touch, your only reply a soft nod to his question.

The glass was stolen from your hand and placed onto the counter as he turned and ushered you towards your bedroom. A sacred place often shared between the two of you. Though he hadn’t moved in yet, it didn’t stop either of you from sharing a wardrobe, having drawers in each other's dressers, a toothbrush in each other's holders, and more haircare products than two people could ever possibly use. Your room was a haven, draped in soft pink and gray blankets with candles and trinkets brought back from his deployments. His favorite was a large glass jar full of rocks. On every deployment since you’d met, before you even started dating he’d brought back a rock, writing in sharpie the day he had picked it up for you. You each set your favorite rock in front of the jar to always be well and truly displayed- the pair having been chosen on one of your first dates together. You’d gone camping, and at the lakes rocky beach you proposed a game. Find rocks that looks like the others eye colors, closest to matching won. It had been almost too easy a win for you, finding a rock so bright and blue-gray with speckles of quartz that made it glitter. The smug look on your face when you’d found it, the gentle whoop and cheer as you won had been more than enough for him to fall in love right then and there.

Gone was that smile from your face, something that ached at him as he closed his eyes for a moment to picture its light. “Yer gonna rest here, okay? I’ll go wash Diane’s damned casserole dish. Ye can take it to work with you in the morning. S’alright if I stay here with you tonight? Miss my girl.” He teased, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and lifting you up onto the edge of the bed. It never failed to surprise you just how easily he lifted your weight, tossing you around like his own personal ragdoll from time to time.

He set you on the bed, slowly peeling away layers of clothes and tossing them into a nearly full hamper before bringing out one of his tee shirts and pulling it over your frame. “There’s my bonnie little thing.”

“‘M not a thing.” You muttered, biting down on the inside of your cheek indignantly- just to hear his soft laugh.

“Yer right, not a thing. No… M’eudail, yer everything.” He mused, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before drawing his arms about you and nestling your anxious body back to the sheets. “...I know you’re not ready to talk about it now, that you need to sort through the things in your head yourself first before you can explain it… but I’m here, I will be here until the day you no longer let me stand beside you.” He promised, the words flowing forth like water from a spring. It comforted him just as much as he hoped it comforted you when he felt you nuzzle into his chest, eyes closed and breathing beginning to settle.

But for all your stress, the things you wouldn't talk about- you didn't snap. You didn't take it out on him or silence him. He almost wished you would. Anything to hear your voice and coax you back to him. Johnny knew you tended to isolate when your mind climbed to new and stressed heights, so to be allowed this glimpse into your mind, to be walked hand in hand through the turbulence of your soul- it was a greater gift than he knew how to accept. Only to hope that you would allow him to do it for the rest of your lives.

“Ye don’t know it yet…” he whispered against your settling form, kisses pressed to the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair. He was glad you fell asleep quickly, keeping his words soft as not to rouse you. “But you saved me. Took a man with aimless devotion to his work and grounded him. Brought him back from a ledge so many walk off. I used to dread coming home, craved the firefight and relentless rush of fighting for my life. But god damn it all, you’ve given me something real to fight for. Now you’re just the one thing I come home to. I wake up glad for you… I guess, what I’m trying to say- know we haven’t said it yet… but I’m in love with you. The good, the bad, every piece of you that you show to me just gives me more to love. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t wait for you to wake up so I can say it to your face.”

He waited an hour or so more before temporarily untangling your limbs, taking his phone to the living room and sitting down to make a call. A familiar voice made him smile, though it sounded annoyed to be woken so late.

“Tavish, what do y’need?” Price asked, clearing his throat of sleep. “Better be good if yer waking me up for it.”

“Aye, know you need yer beauty sleep, Cap. But I’m hoping to get the next couple of days off.” He exclaimed, knee bouncing as he rested his other arm over his knee.

“Everything okay? Not in trouble are you?” He followed up, clearly more alert. Because while not as bad as Simon, getting Johnny to take time off from work was like pulling teeth. “No one died?”

This caused a small laugh to escape him, unable to contain his own humored emotion. “No, Sir. No one died… i… ah.” he cleared his throat. “My girl needs me. She’s having a tough time, and always makes herself available f’r me… ‘bout time I returned the favor. ‘M gonna tell her I love her.”

The silence that spread between them was thick, nearly audible surprise in Price’s voice when he spoke again. “How long-”

“Eight months. Last time you sent me on leave for a month, I met her picking up some books for my ma and sis. I didn’t want to say ‘nything till I knew it was… serious. But it’s serious… I think this is it for me Cap. She is it for me.” He exclaimed, eyes warm as he stared at the coffee table before him. “She feels like home just as much if not more than the 141 does. She’s patient with me, accepts that she may never understand what I do but will never stop me from doing it… I want you all to meet her soon.”

Price’s voice was notably softer now, pride swelling within him. It was all he’d ever hoped for his boys, to find something just as important to him as the work. To open themselves up in ways he hadn’t yet been able to. “Is a week enough?”

“Cap- I was only asking for a few days-” Johnny began.

“A week. If she’s having a hard time, give ‘er the world… show her the meaning behind your feelings and your words, Tav. Do Simon and Kyle know?” He asked.

“They’ve had inklings… but you’re the first person I’ve confirmed anything to.” Johnny admitted, turning over a book that rested on the edge of the coffee table, the phone resting comfortably in his other hand. “Thank you, Cap. I… can’t wait for you guys to meet her. She’s absolutely brilliant… and mine. ‘M not sharin…” He exclaimed.

Their conversation ended with pleasantries and the agreed upon reasoning that would be put on his paperwork before he returned to bed, pulling you back into his arms to keep you there till morning came.

He pretended to remain sleepy and nestled in after you kissed his forehead goodbye, only jumping from the bed when he heard the door lock behind you. So much to do and so little time to do it. Eight hours and counting as he cracked his knuckles, putting on some dance-y pop music to get the day going. There was nothing like hearing a scottish lilted rendition of Dirty Mind by 3OH!3 and Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. And he made sure to record little bouts of it between chores, saving the videos to show you later.

His start was the rest of the dishes, picking them up from all over the apartment, handwashing what needed a bit of extra help before loading the rest into the dishwasher and running it. Next, he took your laundry, sorting it and starting the largest load he could. All of this was about you, for you… his love. To ease the burden resting on your shoulders, the weight that threatened to bend you till you broke.

While the dishes and laundry ran, he swept and vacuumed, rearranging the furniture to make sure no spot was missed. Your books were stacked on the coffee table, his sketchbook and pencils set beside it. It was your best friend he called next, asking for the recipe for her chicken and gnocchi that you loved so dearly, making a quick run to the grocery store to pick up ingredients. There he also picked up an assortment of desserts, cannolis, ice cream, and cheesecake, a lactose intolerant persons nightmare… or daydream, knowing how willing to ignore their intolerance most were. When you texted to say that work was making you stay a couple hours extra, he only sighed in relief. While it annoyed him that they were keeping you from coming home to him, he was glad for more time to better set up his surprise.

Some people would think perhaps it was strange to buy three of the same candle, but now that he was back in your apartment, he put one on the coffee table, one on your desk, and the third in the kitchen. Sweet Mint and Grapefruit. Something comforting and uplifting, just like how he hoped to have you. On the chair closest to the door, he laid out soft pajamas, intent to have you out of your work clothes and leaving that world behind you, if even only for the weekend. Clothes were folded and put away from the laundry, your bed made as a pot simmered on the stove. The realization that he loved you had hit him like a freight train, making his heart soar and sing, so to see you so stressed and pained… he felt it at his core.

The door unlocking had him perked like a dog, vaulting the back of your couch to meet you at the door, his hands on your forearms with an earsplitting smile. “Mo ghràdh…” He swallowed, watching as the startled confusion faded to recognition, a tired and strained smile pressing to your lips.

“Johnny, sunshine… lemme get my shoes and stuff off- WHATAREYOUDOING JOHN AIDAN MACTAVISH-”

But your shriek only spurned him further, soft laughter tearing from his throat as he lifted you easily past the threshold and taking your bag to set it on the ground. “Turn your brain off, Mo ghràdh. Just let me handle… everything.” He cooed, catching your eyes as they wandered about your freshly spotless apartment.

“Johnny… when did you…” but your words stalled again as he sank to his knees before you, eyes light with hunger and reverence.

“Called into work. I’m yours for the whole next week… Cap pulled some strings for me.” He explained, watching your eyes widen and water. Any words of dissent fell away as his hands smoothed over your hips, bringing his face to your abdomen as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your clothes. “Ya had a long day, hen… tha’s not lost on me… and the weeks been so hard for ya… just let me take care of it, let me take care of you. Can ye be a good girl and let me do that for you?” Johnny hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Only when he felt you melt into his touch, your eyes closing a nod consenting to his actions, did he continue. His hands left your hips to remove your shoes and socks, a kiss pressed to your clothed knee as he did. “My pretty bird… so sweet for me… working so hard to make everyone happy, you just forget about yourself do ye? Not a soul in this world deserves your kindness, your smile… hell, let alone me. The fact that I get it at all?” He sighed contently, tugging the waistband of your pants down, and your underwear with it. “Perhaps that’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven… and I couldn’t be more glad for it. Glad for you to have waltzed your way into my life and made a home in my heart.”

The flush that had grown on your cheeks, the warmth that spread through your body as his touch wandered over beautifully scarred skin, kissing freckles and dimples, anything that could be considered an imperfection by a society that had forgotten what love and devotion truly were. His hands caressed from thigh to waist, bringing your shirt up over your arms, guiding you forward just enough that he could pull it over your head and press his lips to your forehead once more. “Yer perfect f’me… so perfect.” He breathed, pushing up on his knees to wrap his arms around you, chin resting just at the lowest part of your sternum as he flicked his fingers, your bra coming undone and falling slack off your shoulders.

He relished in the sigh that left your lips, enjoying that bras existed only so he could remove them from your beautifully painted body. “My cliodna, my venus, my very own aphrodite. Not a single thing in this world is more precious than my girl…”

“Johnny…” You groaned, turning your head away to hide the ever growing flush at your cheeks.

“Please look at me…” He bid, eyes wide and almost puppyish as he pressed ticklish kisses to your naval, facial hair gently scratching at the skin to make you jump into him. When he saw your gaze back upon him, a boyish grin crossed his face, wedging your legs apart as he walked you back to the door to lean against it. “Oh, Mo ghràdh, don’t look at me like that, makes it hard to think.” Johnny teased, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. “Hold on if you need to, but I promise I’ve got you.”

And when he looked at you like that, as if he were a man gazing upon salvation, how could you not believe him?

Any thoughts were quickly interrupted by his kisses as they trailed lower before pressing against the sensitive apex at the top of your heat. Unbeknownst to you, his devotion had already taken affect as he felt wetness against his tongue, savoring the ragged gasp that left your lips like a starved man.

Fingers dug at the fleshy part of your hips, his chin inclining as his lashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he began a sweet and unyielding pace. He was yours, so deeply and entirely yours as he doted upon your body, seeking only to hear those familiar and sweet moans that showed just how you were feeling. Because while your mind may betray you, your voice and body never could, not when he was between your legs.

Your hands fell to the longer, thickened and somewhat curly hair of his mohawk, fingers curling into it as you momentarily debated whether to push him back or- no, no, you pulled him closer, hips canting against his lips with a breathy cry as his other hand slipped down between your legs, two fingers finding their way inside to curl and thrust against the spongy heat that craved to be full. As you whispered a soft apology for pulling his hair so roughly, you were silenced by his own moan, your eyes meeting for only a moment as you caught sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils. It was a romantics painting in its own right, the visual opposition of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel, this angel full of endearing passion and idolization.

Your eyes rolled back as his tongue delved deeper, circling your clit as he traced letters over it, something only for him as he savored your sweetness upon his tongue.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U. Over and over until he felt your hips begin to tremble, leg buckling as you grew nearer and nearer to release. On different terms, he would have stopped, wanting to draw out and prolong your pleasure as long as he could, torturing you with your release- but not today. Not now, no. That was for a day where his focus was on not only you.

“Sunshine-” you whispered, the breath stuttered along with your hips when his fingers curled against that spot deep inside you, stars bursting in front of your open eyes as your vision went white. Did you scream? Did you moan? You briefly felt a bit of pain on your tongue, a metallic taste spreading across it as you subconsciously bit down, weak whimpers sending your body trembling and tumbling forward into your Johnny.

He was all too happy to sustain you, holding you up and pinning your hips to the door as he lapped up the thick and creamy juices that spilled onto his tongue, face glistening when he finally pulled away with a rough gasp. “All that f’me, princess?” he hummed, rubbing his chin across the inside of your thigh, just to feel your sensitive and overstimulated body jump beneath his touch.

Johnny stood then, carrying you to the bathroom and turning on the shower. It was easy to ignore- well, not easy, but he was more than willing to ignore the aching strain in his pants as he guided you through a shower, your sweet, starstruck gaze on his as you kissed the taste of yourself off his tongue. He didn’t care as his clothes got wet, making sure to take his time as he ran the loufa over your body, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the day before cleaning each part of you more gently and tenderly. Your hair was washed, your scalp massaged as he hummed softly to you, crooning sweet words of praise and pride. “My pretty girl… so perfect f’me… look at you… jus’ look at you… so gorgeous.”

When the shower ended you were wrapped in a still warm towel and whisked back to the living room, your feet barely touching the ground long enough for you to register it. So this was what it meant to be loved? The words hadn’t been shared between you two, not yet, but it was undeniable now. These acts of service were hardly acts at all, only the truest form of love and devotion as he dressed you just as slowly and tenderly as he’d undressed you.

“Wait…” you slurred, lashes fluttering as you glanced around. “What’s that…”

A cheeky smile crossed his face as he pulled your nightshirt over your body. “Might’ve called your friend for a bit of help…” he exclaimed, taking you to the kitchen and grabbing two bowls. “Think you can eat fer me? I know it’s hard when yer stressed so… thought I might tempt you.” Johnny laughed.

Bowls of food were brought to the table, and when you hesitated to take a bite, he ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth and lifted the spoon to it, feeding you slowly. “There we go… tha’s a good girl… don’t gotta eat it all, just gotta eat enough for me. I’m here, I’m with you… won’t make you talk about it…” He stated, watching as your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the love and devotion shown to you.

“I love you.” You blurted, the words causing your eyes to widen. Stress had melted away as his hands had earlier explored your body, but now it was back, tension coiling in your chest. “I mean-”

“I love you, too.” Johnny exclaimed softly, a slow smile gracing his face- like the sun cresting the horizon after a rainy night. “I love you. Tha gaol agam ort. You and I… this… it’s everything to me. You’re everything to me, and I wanted to show you, really show you just what you mean to me. Not in grand gestures, but… just like this… I want it to always be like this, or better. I want us to keep working towards better, as long as it’s… together.” He stated, setting down the spoon and pressing your foreheads together.

Tears fell as the floodgates burst, your head bowed and elbows resting on the table. It had been too much before, your work life, family life, even health feeling like it was all working against you- and in a moment of anger, you’d convinced yourself you were alone.

But how could that have been true when you had the literal sun before you? You understood now, Icarus and Apollo, Achilles and Patroclus, Odysseus and Penelope. The all encompassing love that drove people to war and compassion.

“I love you.” You wept, the words more freeing than you had ever known them to be.

Dishes were forgotten on the table as he swept you into his arms, an increasingly common action as of late and led you back to your bedroom, laying you down upon soft and silken sheets. “I love you, M’eudail… every piece of you that you had long since abandoned, the parts you didn’t think were capable or worthy of being loved, I love all of it, and if you’ll give it to me, I’ll show you… I promise, and promises are meant to be kept.” He whispered, caging your body in with his own as he acted like a weighted blanket pinning you to the bed.

Your chest screamed for air, as laughter bubbled out between your tears, one hand threading into the back of his mohawk, the other rubbing small circles into his back. “How did I get so lucky?” you whispered, the words a betrayal of your mind.

“You didn’t do anything, Mo ghràdh, just by existing you are worthy of love. Worthy of living a life lighter of stress. Just by existing you have earned and deserved kindness… I am sorry that I am the first one to show you that, especially now.” He whispered, the words soft upon your skin.

“I’ll call into work next week…” You whispered, hiccuping softly as his hands slipped beneath your shirt.

“I didn’t plan to leave you for a moment anyways.” He mused in return. “I love you, M’eudail… my perfect, bonnie love…”

“I love you too, Sunshine. If there’s a place for me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

#cod mw2 #fanfiction #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader

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