#i put it in the fridge because it's part of tomorrow's dinner

[rreids]

BE GOOD TO ME • A. HOTCHNER X READER

__ used in place of reader's name; age gap (both legal, unspecified, hotch implied to have worked with the reader's father); fem!reader; alcohol consumption; fluff; angst (i'm v bad at it, apologies); fears of abandonment; hotch is a bit insensitive at times; no jack or haley (assumed they have the same issues with his work & broke up pre-fic); sexual tension; has a nsfw section, skip from: (“Okay, they’re shut,” -> "I'll stay." if you are a minor or don't like smut; ~5k words; a poorly written ending, honestly; an (early!!!) birthday present for @hotchfiles (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) smut warnings: dom!hotch (nothing intense), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (do not copy them <3), oral (m receiving).

Moving was always a hassle. 

Stressful, tiring, made tensions high — the works. It took the better part of your first day in Quantico to move in, and you could only settle onto your new couch (courtesy of your father, who’d worked in Narcotics at the FBI early on in his career, and was more than excited to find out that you wanted to move there) when the sun was thirty minutes from setting.

“Yes, yeah, Dad, I’m fine. I only had thirty more minutes of unpacking when you were leaving,” you click on speaker phone and lean your head back, sighing as you try to work a cord in your neck. “I’ll say hi to my neighbors tomorrow. Yes. Yes, I’m going to eat. The food you gave me to put in the fridge. I have my first day at the café tomorrow, I’ll get groceries then.”

He rambles for a bit and you close your eyes, letting him talk and talk. It’s nice. You know he worries.

“Ok, Dad, I got it. I’ll contact Gideon if anything comes up, and I’ll ask around for his team or wife — girlfriend? — if he’s busy. I love you, but I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Okay? Yeah. Thank you. Bye-bye,”

He hangs up first, knowing you hate to be the one to click it.

You sigh and stretch, tossing the phone down on the cushion. By the time you gain the energy to stand and go to the fridge, there’s a ring of your doorbell. 

You’re not expecting anyone, so you approach cautiously, peering through the peephole. It’s a man, older, but you can’t place by how much, standing with his hands in his pockets.

You crack the door, keeping the secondary lock in place. “Hello?”

“Good evening,” his voice has a nice husk to it. “Sorry, I should introduce myself. My name’s Aaron, I’m your neighbor. Wanted to ask if there’s any groceries or anything I could bring you, something to help you get settled or maybe you forgot to pack for the move…?”

You eye him warily.

“I was going to make cookies but I can’t bake.”

You chuckle. “Um, I think I’m okay. Are you handy, by any chance?”

“A little. I can do stuff around the house.”

“Then,” you pause, looking at his eyes. “Is there a chance I can get your number? You know, so if there’s any issue I can call you to come round and take a look,”

“Sure,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’m a little busy sometimes, though, so it might take me a few days to get around to stopping by.”

You nod and quickly undo the inner latch and open the door more fully. “That’s alright, I don’t expect you to drop your life because I can’t fix a leaking faucet. Can you wait here while I grab my phone?”

He nods, looking respectfully at only the foyer and not further into your new home, carefully avoiding focusing on the stacks of boxes you haven’t gotten to unpacking (full of knick-knacks and unimportant things that you decided could wait to be put on display). 

It doesn’t take long to save each other’s contacts, and while there’s no more excuse for him to be on your stoop, you want to talk to him more. “Do you have anyone to eat dinner with?”

Subtle, your inner voice snarks back.

“No,” he smiles sadly, bitterness to it. “Just me.”

“Well, it’s just lasagna to reheat, but if you’d prefer to not eat alone…”

“I’d love that…?”

“__,” you smile. “Come on in, Aaron. I’ll get you a plate.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

Work goes well, getting adjusted is easy.

You make friends with your coworkers and a few regulars, go out a few times and find a group of girls you mesh with.

Then again, you were a pretty sociable person, always trying to smile and improve people’s days. It was partially why you didn’t absolutely hate service work. There was a silver lining to every interaction.

Aaron was nice, too.

You’d had an issue with water pressure when you finally (after much longer than you’d like to admit) got your new shower head attached, and he’d come over and let his dress shirt get soaked while he fixed it for you.

Whenever you ask about work, he dances around anything more than telling you “FBI” and that he “travels a lot”, but you didn’t mind too much. Everyone has their secrets, and you knew your dad had seen some terrible things. 

You can only imagine what Aaron has seen.

He was good company, had a dry and witty humor that you never expected, kind eyes and a gentle smile you were lucky to see despite his tiredness, and, well, he was handsome.

You weren’t against eye candy, even if you didn’t know much personally about him. It took a week to learn how old he was, and a few days while was gone for work for you to reconcile that he was old enough to have worked with your father when he was at Narcotics.

It’s been two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he calls, voice exhausted and rough, raw, even, from what seems to have been an emotional case. 

“Aaron?”

He hums, sighs on the other side of the line.

“Everything okay?”

“Just tired,” he doesn’t explain more. “Can you keep talking?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” you can’t help the way your brow furrows in concern about how worn-out he sounds. “Well, I can tell you about my job. I’m not nearly as secretive, Mr. FBI,” you tease, and he exhales — a softer, happier one. 

And so you do, rambling about different coffees, trying desperately to coax him into trying a latte (he refuses every single time you try to tell him he’d like one, but assures you there’s someone on his team who has equal amounts of sugar and coffee in his — you’re sure he’s exaggerating, the sugar would be too much for almost anyone — who would love to try your drink combos); telling him about regulars and new customers, the music that played, if there’s a song you know he’d like; really, anything you can think of.

“When do you get back?”

“We’ve landed, I’m back.” There’s more shuffling than there had been on his end, papers sliding and the crackling connection as he moves the phone before bringing it back to his ear. “Just finishing some paperwork.”

“Is it stuff that can’t be seen?”

“No. It’s not confidential.”

“Do you want to do it at your house, then? Or visiting my place. I made pasta and steak, I can heat some back up for you. I’m sure you haven’t been eating well when you’re chasing down bad guys, or… whatever you do when you’re gone, I’m not sure exactly.”

Aaron chuckles. “Thanks, __. Give me thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

He hesitates.

“No. No, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

He takes closer to forty-five minutes, but you expected something to take a bit longer than he said. And it’s not a bother. Really, it was welcome because it let you run out to the store and buy a nice wine (you hoped he likes red), and reheat the food better than just by the microwave.

When he knocks, you try not to scurry over too quickly and to temper your smile. “Come in,”

Aaron smiles tiredly at you, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He hangs up his suit jacket and loosens his tie slightly.

He looks at the table and his brows raise. “Wine?”

“I figured you could use something to unwind,”

“Sounds lovely.” 

You can’t tell if he actually means that, or if he just doesn’t like red, doesn’t want wine, or what, and is being polite but you don’t push it. 

“Are you going to eat, too?”

“I already did,” you smile at him. “I was going to do dishes so I don’t leave them in the sink overnight — I try to never do that. But it can wait if you’d rather have company.”

He moves his napkin. “Well, I’d be able to hear you from the kitchen. More efficient,”

“Got it,”

You hum to yourself in the lulls of conversation with him, scrubbing a plate clean. He eats quickly, when you’re not across from him, and you find this out when he comes in with his dishes.

“Let me wash them. My mess,”

“You’re a guest,” you protest, but you don’t do much to dissuade him, watching the way he rolls up his sleeves and his forearms flex with a lazy smile as he scrubs off the alfredo sauce. “At least leave your glass. We can drink and talk for a bit.”

He raises his brows but nods, pushing it to the side.

“Do you want to talk about work?” You ask him as you fill one for you and then top off his. “Or would you prefer anything else.”

“I’ve been talking about dead bodies and abductions for two weeks. I’d like something more normal,” Aaron answers smoothly before pausing, placing his plate in your dishrack. “I’ve never told you that I deal with that, have I?”

“No,” you hand him his wine and guide him to your couch. “But I can make a guess why you haven’t,”

“I’m sure you can.”

“My father, he was in Narcotics, actually.” You look for a flash of recognition in his eyes, but without saying your father’s name there is none. “Maybe he worked with you at some point. But he would always come home tense and it strained my parent’s relationship… I get it.”

Aaron swallows. You guess relationships are a sore spot.

“Wanna hear about the last time I went out?” You couldn’t think about a better topic, and grimace when he sighs and sinks back into the cushions. “Nothing gross,”

“Hit me.”

You tell him, excited, bubbly, and pause about two-thirds into recounting the drinking games and how you could barely walk by the end of it. Namely, because you want to leave out the fact you almost drunk-dialed him (and that you were super wasted in public, considering he’s a federal agent), and second, because you realize you could show him the dress you were wearing that night.

Maybe the wine is getting to you a little, but you buzz with excitement at the idea of him eyeing you up and down.

“Actually, I wanna show you something!” Your voice is too excited and you know it when he gives you a questioning look. “Wait here.”

You stumble a little changing out of your clothes and quickly zip yourself into the dress, clasp the same necklace back on. Your hair isn’t done the same, your makeup is your day makeup and not what you wear out, but you still look pretty. 

Maybe a little less slutty than you did that night, but the way the dress clings to your curves would make up for it. Hopefully.

“Close your eyes!” You call out to him.

“What?” Aaron calls back, and you hear an exaggerated groan when you don’t reply. “Okay, they’re shut,”

You saunter out and lightly grab his wrist — he’s holding his hands to cover his sight completely, and your heart flutters at the boyishness — and tug them away. “What do you think?”

Aaron opens his eyes almost directly to your cleavage as you straighten up, and he snaps his attention to your face. That doesn’t last long as you spin and twirl, letting the light catch the glittery details. 

He’s moved his eyes to your hips and how much of your thighs are exposed.

He clears his throat. “You wore this out when you were that drunk?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile. “I was safe!”

“You were telling me you could barely walk,”

You pout at him. “You’re so serious, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

A beat of silence.

Another.

“Twirl for me again?”

You beam at him and obey, squeaking when he pauses you once you face away. 

“It’s not fully zipped,” he lets his fingers trace above the zipper as he stands, and you feel him pressing closer to you — tall, imposing, strong. Warmth radiating off his skin. “Can I?”

You debate what to say.

“Actually,” you breathe in deeply, trying to keep your voice level. “I think I cinched the waist too tight at the clasps. Can you loosen them?”

Aaron’s breath ghosts over the nape of your neck, and he says nothing as he slowly unzips it, fingers sparking desire and tensing the muscles as his fingers trail down your spine after the zipper. 

“Right here?” He asks, tugging at the cinch to make his point clear.

You smile and let the straps slip from your shoulders in a fake stretch. His breath hitches.

“A little lower,”

Aaron listens, entranced, undoing more and more until his fingers ghost right above your panties — a thong, maroon-y red. 

You imagine he’s shut his eyes now, trying to respect you despite the way you’re clearly trying to get into his pants.

And so, you act.

You reach back and grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him a little closer to the crook of your neck.

“__,” he whispers.

“Aaron,” you match the soft desire thrumming under the words. “Please.”

You know he’ll snap when you arch your back, pressing back into his hardening bulge and pushing your chest out — right into his line of sight.

He kisses the skin of your neck gently, sucking on it harshly before running his tongue over the stinging sensation. He guides the dress down you fully, strong hands squeezing the fat on your thighs with a groan before slipping up and around your waist to cup your breasts.

“You’re beautiful,”

“Please don’t waste time on easing into it,” you grit out, aching for him. “I want you. Badly.”

“Shh,” he soothes, unclasping your necklace and placing it on the small stand by your couch, kissing where the cold metal had sat. “You’ll get me,”

You whimper out in surprise as he spins you and crashes his lips into yours forcefully, pressing you into him so your nipples brush against his ironed and perfect dress shirt, a perfect, aching friction. 

A confident hand goes to your thong and snaps the waistband against your hip as you press further into him, blindly pawing at his pants.

“Walk me to your bedroom,” he tells you when he pulls back for air, and you stumble into the wall twice, too wrapped up in his kisses and heat to move with grace.

He lays you down, but before he can pull back and stand, you pull him next to you. 

“Let me,” you say, tugging his tie loose and nimbly undoing his buttons with only a slight tremor to your hands. The button-up falls open to beautiful strength and skin, dotted with freckles and rippling with strength as he shrugs the fabric off and flings it to the floor.

When you start on his belt, his eyes bore into you and you shrink under the gaze once you tug it loose.

“Sit back,” he nods towards the headboard. “Now.”

You swallow and scramble to move where he wants. He strips down to his boxers and shifts to move over you, bracing on his knees and a forearm. He pecks your lips with a smile before deepening the kiss.

He leaves you gasping for air by the time he moves to lick over your nipples as his calloused fingers find their way into your panties. You quiver at the roughness on your clit, the way the fabric of the thong slips against you with his movements. 

He pulls off you, and your eyes hungrily drink in his deep breaths and the filthy sight of his fingers moving in your underwear, back arching as he slips one finger into you and continues to roll your clit with his thumb.

“More?” He asks when your hips grind down to meet him.

“Want it,” you gasp out, squeezing him over his boxers. The precum that’s leaked through makes you keen with need. “‘M ready.”

“I’d rather you not get hurt,” he pushes in another finger. “So be patient.”

You huff, fucking up against his hand.

He pulls back and pins you with that same hand, smearing your arousal over your hip. “You can’t wait?”

“Maybe I like it with a little pain.”

He raises a brow at that and sighs, but he lets go of you to pull down and kick off his boxers.

Your mouth dries at the sight of his cock, and you ache, so desperately empty. You grab at his shoulders, broad and strong, and he can’t help the twitch of a smile as he rubs himself against you and you squirm.

You kiss him as you hook your leg around him and drag him into you, delighting in the gasp of pleasure he lets out against your lips. His jaw sets, teeth grinding as he sets a torturously slow pace, letting you feel the drag of every vein and inch against your velvety walls.

You dig your nails into his back and scratch, and his hips stutter before finally speeding up. It’s still not enough, but finally forceful enough to draw sounds from your lips.

“You like a little pain too,” you laugh breathlessly, trying to leave a bite on his neck. He cranes back and out of reach, folding your legs up to drive deeper.

“I can take it. Can you?” Aaron asks, no expectation of an answer as he finally sets a pace that drives you to near silent gasps and shaking muscles. 

You whimper, digging your nails in more harshly to feel the way his shoulders flex as he moves one of his hands to rub your clit. His skin and his movements are rough and aggressive, punching moans out of you without care, sitting your nerves on fire.

He doesn’t relent, leaving wet kisses along your sweat slick skin as he fucks into you so hard you quiver in his hold, small and weak and helpless under him.

You moan at the idea, arching up into him as he scrapes his teeth over your left breast.

“More,” you beg breathlessly. “I can take it all,”

His brow furrows in delicious determination over darkened, blown-out eyes, lips tightening to hold in his gruff moans as he drags you closer to your ecstasy.

“Yeah?” He asks, bringing a hand to squeeze your cheeks together. “Want it all?”

You nod eagerly, urge him down for another kiss, and you clench when he sucks on your tongue before pulling back and completely away.

“Hands and knees.”

You flip hurriedly, trying to hide the way your muscles shake from the effort. He catches it, though, wraps an arm under and around your waist to help support you as he drapes himself over your back and slides back in.

It’s almost claustrophobic, so warm and close to him, skin slick with sweat, heavy breaths coming out in humid pants, wet presses of his lips and tongue to your shoulders and the nape of your neck; but you love it, whining and keening as he angles his hips just right and rubs your clit again.

You’re so, so, so close to the edge, you can almost taste it.

“Let go,” he orders, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

And you do, quivering around him, pussy desperately trying to keep him in place as he fucks you through it.

He hisses, and you whine at the empty feeling, rolling over to see him leaning back and jerking himself off, head tossed back and veins popping out. 

You crawl over and grin up at him “fuck my mouth” before taking him in, and he hisses, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Shit, __,” he groans, and you realize it’s the first time he’s said your name or lost composure during this. You hum in response and bob your head further down before hollowing your cheeks.

His hips jerk, but before he can apologize for the movement, you moan around him and press lower.

Aaron groans, deep and broken with need, and it only takes a few more seconds for him to cum, thighs twitching under your palms.

He tugs you off and kisses you after you swallow, tasting himself on your tongue.

“Let me clean you up,” he whispers after a few moments, observing how you’re still shaking from the aftershocks.

He leaves and comes back with a washcloth, wiping you clean and apologizing softly when you wince from oversensitivity.

Aaron even helps you get dressed (finds pajamas in a drawer for you and hands them to you) and makes sure you pee and brush your teeth.

When he starts gathering his things, you grab him. “Stay.”

He pauses and sighs, shirt bundled in his hand. He slips back into his boxers and slides under the duvet next to you.

“I’ll stay.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When you wake up, Aaron is gone.

No note. No voicemail.

It stings. He’d even cleaned up the wine glasses and brought your necklace onto your nightstand.

When you stand, it aches, muscles exhausted. You shower slowly and pensively, chewing on your lip as you consider calling him.

You don’t.

You fix yourself coffee, eat some fruit and pancakes, and get ready for work. It’d be a long day standing and delivering orders with the way your muscles burned, but maybe it’d distract you.

You don’t even hear from him again for a week, and part of you is mad at him, but most of you is scared — you’d figured out that he deals with homicides and abductions that night, and there was a worry that took root and grew that he could be dead, and you wouldn’t know.

When you hear from him, it’s one a.m. on a Friday (Saturday, you suppose, since it’s past night).

“Hello?” You ask groggily, not having checked the caller I.D.

“__,” Aaron sighs out. He sounds relieved.

You tense. “Aaron.”

There’s awkward silence.

“Why are you calling?”

“I hadn’t heard from you all week,” he tells you, and your heart twists in your chest.

Who did he think he was, to sleep with you, leave without warning, and call like nothing happened?

“I wonder why,” you snap, voice bitter and biting.

Aaron sighs and shuffles.

More uncomfortable silence.

“Where did you go?”

“Home. I had to get dressed for work.”

You hope none of his team is around. You’re already upset enough just talking to him, and that’s without a team of whatever-the-fuck he does FBI agents listening in.

“No message?”

“Should I have left one?” Aaron sighs, and you can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not dating, __.”

“Yeah. I can tell.” You scoff. “Then why do you care that I didn't call you?”

“I like your company, you know that.”

“You do a hell of a job making it clear.”

Eyes burning with tears you’re holding back, you finally ask.

“What do you want, Aaron?”

“To talk.”

“No,” you grouse, wiping the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“__, please, come on.”

“Come on?” You repeat, incredulous. “Aaron, I like you. You used me for sex and left. I’m fucking pissed at you,”

“You’re too young for me.” Aaron sighs. “I’m always at work. It’s dangerous work, too. You could have any guy,”

“Yeah. A shame I want you. And my age didn’t seem to matter last week. If you don’t want to date me, just say it!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That I want to see you.”

“No. Please… stop calling me,”

You hope he doesn’t hear the choked sob that leaves your lips as you hang up.

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

You ignore him for two weeks pretty well, pretending to be gone or asleep every time he rings the doorbell, tossing out his sad attempts at cookies (even if you feel like crying knowing he can’t make cookies or bake for shit and is doing it just for you), letting the flowers he placed die on your stoop.

The first time you hear about him again — he hadn’t left messages in a few days — is actually at work.

A younger man, about your age, boyishly cute and nothing like who you wanted, comes in and smiles at you.

“Hey, do you have any like… special drinks?” He’s stuttering. “My friend—boss?— recommended this place, said you had lattes I might like.”

The gears turn a little.

(There’s someone on my team who would drink it. 

I want you to try it, Aaron.

I don’t do sugar in my coffee, __. But he does, I swear it’s more sugar than coffee sometimes. I’ll let him know the name of your café.

Should I be expecting him?

Yeah, maybe. His name’s Spencer. He’s a good kid.)

“Boss?”

“Yeah! We work together, but we’re also friends, but he could fire me, so I never know how to introduce him.”

You giggle slightly. “Um, well, we have a seasonal drink.” 

You rattle off the options and ingredients, and when he finally decides on his order, he blinks at you a few times.

“You know, your name is familiar. __.” He’s trying to place it.

With a smile, you glance at him. “What’d you say yours was? For the order.”

“Spencer.”

Bingo.

You write it on the cup and look to see if there’s a line. There isn’t. You hand the cup to the other barista working with the order ticket.

“Where’d you say you worked, Spencer?”

“I didn’t. But I work at the FBI in the BAU—that’s the behavioral analysis unit. We do something called profiling to catch unsubs, unknown subjects, who commit a variety of different crimes.”

You nod. 

Profiler. 

You’d think someone who knows the human condition and behavior so well would know not to leave a girl without a goodbye when you slept together the night before.

“Your boss, his name Aaron?”

“Hotch.” Spencer supplies automatically before his ears catch up. “Wait, yeah. Aaron Hotchner. You know him?”

You smile tightly, not sure what he’s shared with his team. With the BAU. “We’re neighbors.”

Spencer grins. “You should come in and surprise him! He’s been bothered by something lately, but he won’t tell any of us why. Maybe he’ll tell you.”

You tense. “You all sound like a nosy bunch, Spencer,” you hope your voice comes across light and playful enough. You thank your coworker for his coffee and say “I’m also on shift. Here’s your coffee. Have a good day.”

He smiles and says “you too!” and turns around. He almost bumps into someone immediately and you hear a rush of apologies as he looks at his watch and hurries out of the café.

You sigh.

All day, what Spencer said runs through your mind. Had he really been struggling? He had to be, assuming Spencer didn’t know you… and if Aaron is as private as you think he is, Spencer definitely doesn’t know you.

When you get home, Aaron is waiting on your doorstep, and it takes everything in you to not turn around and get right back in your car, drive somewhere for dinner.

“__,” his voice is pleading, broken and soft.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh. “I’m tired of the excuses.”

“I know. I know. Let’s talk. Actually.”

You huff.

“... I’ll talk. You listen. I’m the one who has apologizing to do,”

“First right thing you’ve said in a while,” you mumble bitterly, brushing past him to unlock your door. “Come on.”

He follows you slowly, and one glance at his face fills you with guilt. He looks like a kicked puppy. 

Damn him and his pretty brown eyes.

You settle on the couch with wine. “Go on,”

Aaron swallows. “I… got a call. A work call. At three. After we slept together, I needed to run to grab all my things, get new clothes… 

It was a brutal case. The… the guy — we caught him — was killing girls who looked like you. And, selfishly, I thought, maybe if I just ignored you I wouldn’t be worried. And that you’d be okay, that it didn’t matter to you like it mattered to me. 

But I kept seeing him kill you in my nightmares, and I knew I needed to focus on work before he killed another innocent woman. That if I called you, I’d break down and be a burden on the team and the case.

And I know that’s not good enough, I should’ve left a message or called anyway.

I do like you. And your age is part of me not calling, I just don’t know if it’s right. For me to want you.”

He pauses and stares into your eyes before looking to the ground. “I don’t care if it’s right anymore. I do want you. When I close my eyes before bed, I see your smile, I think of you, and I just,” he digs his nails into his thighs, exhales heavily. “I want you so fucking bad,”

You swallow. “Care to show me?”

“Not tonight.” Aaron sighs. “I don’t want… I don’t want it to seem like I just want your body.”

“Even if I say it’s okay?”

“Even then,” he leans over and kisses you. 

Sweetly. Romantic, even.

“Let me make it up to you. What do you say about dinner tomorrow?” He rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Let me show you that I want you,”

“Sounds good, Hotchner.”

His brows shoot up. “How do you know my last name?”

“Well, I met this guy,” you say teasingly. “His name’s Spencer. Ring a bell?”

Aaron curses. “Did he say anything?”

“Just that you seemed down. He didn’t know anything, I just said you were my neighbor. Why, did you miss me? That why you were so miserable?”

“Yeah.” It’s the most confident he’s sounded all night. “Going forward…” he pauses. “Just slap me if I’m being an ass. I thought I was going crazy not being able to see you.”

#my works #mdni #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #st fic #my writing #my fic

[ellabsbitch]

tolerate it

pairing: older/modern abby anderson x reader

warnings: angsty angsty shit, cursing, abby kinda sucks

a/n: she has risen🙏🙏 on god i wrote this in like 2ish days because i’ve been obsessed with taylor swifts tolerate it so that’s what this is based off of <3 if it’s bad don’t tell me okay bye enjoy

wc: 4.6k :p

The unopened wine bottle placed in front of you seems to be taunting you at your loneliness, and the fancy glasses you pulled out from the highest shelf collect dust the longer they sit, empty as the day you got them. The dinner you prepared on the plate across from you sits untouched, the steam completely dissipated. You’re met with silence as you finish the last bite of your food, a part of you still hoping to hear the sound of the study door opening. A moment passes as you consider leaving the food out at the table for her but you decide to take it to her yourself. With a careful push on the table, you stand up with your plate in hand and begin putting the dishes you used while cooking into the sink.

The moon glows in the sky during the time you spend cleaning up, the window over the sink giving you the perfect view to see how late it's gotten. A quick glance at the clock above your stove tells you it's half past nine now. You grab the towel off of the hook next to the sink and use it to wipe your hands after loading the dishwasher. Lastly, you put the leftovers from dinner into the fridge and put the wine up in the cabinet along with the empty glasses. Carefully, you grab the full plate of food and make your way over to the intimidating door across from the kitchen. The sound of you knocking fills the otherwise mute home and after you wait a good moment, you think she might be ignoring you.

Just as you go to walk away, you hear a, “Come in,” from the other side of the door. The knob turns as you twist your hand around it, trying to balance the plate of food in your other hand. There Abby sits, hunched over her large dark oak desk, reading what seems to be a thick packet of paperwork she has to go over for a client. Her hair is pulled back into her signature braid, a few loose strands have fallen, outlining her frowning face. She has yet to change out of her work clothes, though she's lost the tie you recognize from gifting it to her on Christmas the year before, seeing it tossed carelessly on the ground next to her desk. You watch as her eyes scan the documents with her head down in concentration, leaving no room for any distractions, including you as you notice she has yet to acknowledge you. After watching her work in silence for a few minutes, you clear your throat in hopes she will finally take note that you are standing there. At the sudden disruption, your favorite pair of eyes flicker up to where you stay standing with a warm smile, holding out the dinner you prepared for her. 

Without a second beat, her eyes fell back down on the papers in front of her, muttering out, “M’not hungry.”  The smile adorning your face falls. A quiet sigh escapes your lips, and you walk to the left of her desk, placing the plate next to the documents that seem to captivate all of her attention. Her eyes stay locked onto the papers, even as you stand near. You see the tie out of your peripheral and you go to grab it, hearing the sound of keyboard keys clicking from beside you. When you look back at her, she's now busy typing away on the laptop she takes from home to work. The silence is deafening, other than the constant clicks of the keyboard.

Trying to fill the quiet void, you ask, “Are we still going to Nora’s tomorrow for dinner?” You receive no response other than the constant typing that you begin to grow tired of. A minute passes of your heavy stare analyzing the way she manages to effortlessly ignore your presence. 

You try again, “Abs?” No answer, once again. The familiar burning in your eyes that you've grown accustomed to these past few weeks start up again but you fight to hold back the tears of frustration from her dismissive behavior. 

“Abby…” you nearly beg once more for her to at least look up at you. 

Suddenly, the constant clattering of her fingertips on the keyboard stops, being replaced by the sound of her sighing dramatically. Her right hand comes up to wipe her face in annoyance before she turns to where you stand at her left. 

“What, y/n? I’m busy.” she says, tiredly looking across your cowering form. Her eyes drop down to where you play with her tie in your hands before she meets your stare. 

“I asked if we are still going to Nora’s for dinner tomorrow,” you quietly say, not wanting to worsen her already bad mood. Her eyes go back to her computer, starting up that annoying typing again. “I’ll take us when I get home from work.” You nod, though you know she isn’t paying attention.

Turning to leave, you pause, “Are you coming to bed soon?” She nods before stopping her typing once again to look up at you, “Don’t wait up.” You sigh, nodding again with a forced smile, leaving her to her work. You carry yourself upstairs to your shared bedroom, changing into your sleep clothes. You glance at the dresser she keeps her night clothes in, deciding to lay a pair out for her. The pajamas lay on her side of the bed as you get under the thick duvet you bought with Abby when you first moved in. Even the blanket can’t hide the coldness you feel without having her next to you. The familiar burn returns, not being able to hold back anymore. You silently cry, missing your Abby who used to never let you go to sleep alone. The same Abby who would never miss one of your homemade dinners. Most importantly, your Abby who would never take you for granted. The tears flow until you feel yourself slowly drifting to sleep, the bed still half-full. 

— — — — — 

When you wake up the next morning, you feel as cold as the night before. Wiping the sleep and dried tears from your eyes, you turn to where Abby slept, only to find her side empty. The pair of sleep clothes sits untouched in the spot you left them. You immediately go to her study once you get out of bed, finding her in the same hunched over spot you last saw her in. 

Unlike how you left her, she’s fallen asleep with her head in the palm of her hand, the stack of paperwork as her cushion. You watch as she breathes in and out, though a bit struggled with the way she is bent over her desk. Her hair is as messy as ever, blonde wisps strung across her freckled face. Somehow she manages to make sleeping on a desk the most peaceful sight.

Quietly, you tiptoe your way to her side, just like the night before. You carefully reach over, placing your hand on her shoulder to lightly shake her awake. “Abs… wake up hun,” you whisper out to her, your other hand coming up to comb back the hair from her face. She groans at the intrusion on her sleep before she slowly opens her blue orbs. For a moment, she seems as at peace as she was before you woke her, however it’s gone in a flash and she’s shaking your hands off of her. 

“Fuck, I gotta get ready,” she says, voice still deep from her sleep. You watch her quickly but neatly stuff her paperwork into her work bag and then dart out of the room. Walking after her, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps running upstairs, which you assume means she is going to get ready for work. You decide to make her a quick coffee to help her wake up from what you presume was a long night. The sound of the clock ticking fills the silent kitchen as you wait for the coffee to finish brewing. 

Just as it gets finished, you hear those same heavy footsteps rushing down the stairs.

“Abs, wait up!” you say and quickly grab the cup of coffee to give it to her before she leaves. By the time you step out of the kitchen, the front door slams shut with an echo throughout the house. You stand there, facing the front door with a coffee in hand and no one to give it to. 

The walk back to the kitchen is just as gut wrenching as the sound of the front door slamming. Not having the energy to deal with what’s left of your sweet gesture, you leave the full cup of coffee on the counter and go back to divulge in your sorrow in the comfort of your bed. 

— — — — — 

Across the room from you Abby sits at Nora’s living room couch, surrounded by her friends and coworkers. Manny, Owen, and Mel sit on the long couch while Abby and Jessica sit on the smaller couch. She’s laughing at something Jessica tells her. Her eyes are lit up in a way you haven’t seen in weeks. 

You stay standing at the entrance to the kitchen with Nora, your favorite of Abby’s friends. When Abby first brought you around her people, Nora was the most friendly and accepting of you. It always intimidated you, coming to these parties with people who are so much older than you, but Nora always made the time pass a lot better. 

“How have you been?” Nora asks suddenly, eyeing the way your gaze hasn't left Abby and Jessica the whole time you've been there. You part ways with the two on the couch and turn your attention to your kind friend.

“I’ve been good!” you say, mustering up a smile to sell your awful attempt at lying. 

Nora sees right through it. You can tell because she casts a quick glance at Abby and then to you with a look that says ‘seriously?’ Her knowing look has you dropping the eye contact, instead choosing to focus on the way your drink swirls around in the solo cup Nora made for you earlier that night. You can’t accumulate the right words to say, choosing to sigh out instead. All of the sudden, Nora’s pulling you into the kitchen, where no one can hear the two of you. 

“You wanna tell me what’s really been going on? I can tell something is off between you two,” she states with her hand coming up to rest on your shoulder in an attempt to console you. With a shake of your head, you try to laugh it off.

“Nothing is going on, Nora! Abby has been the best and I’m so grateful for everything she has done for me. Sure, she's been busy with work recently but that doesn’t mean we aren’t okay!” you respond, though you’re sure she can see past your semi-lie just as she did before. I mean, it is somewhat true. Abby HAS been extremely busy with work, but you two definitely aren’t okay.

 “Okay…” Nora pauses in thought for a moment, analyzing the smile you’re forcing and what you’ve told her. “Well I’m always here if you ever want to talk about anything, alright?” You nod your head in response, giving her a genuine smile this time. In the living room, you hear a loud commotion of yells and congratulations being thrown around. Nora nods her head in the direction of the sound, signaling you follow her into the living room. When you emerge from the kitchen, you see people surrounding Abby, giving her their congratulations and highfives. But your eyes latch onto the way Jessica is now leaned into Abby’s side, hugging her a little too intimately in your opinion. 

“What’s going on guys?” Nora asks, venturing into the swarm of people. The sound of her voice draws everyone’s attention to her, though, you stay back, watching the scene unfold. 

Manny is the first one to say, “Abby got a big promotion!” Nora is quick to congratulate her like everyone else, and the room erupts into bustling conversation. 

You continued to hang back, a little hurt that Abby didn’t tell you about the promotion, but you cut it up to that she just wanted to wait to tell everyone together. 

That is, until you hear Jessica’s agonizing voice say aloud, “She was so happy when the boss let her know, she came straight to me and told me!” 

The chatter didn’t stop but it felt like your heart did. Your head felt cloudy as you watched Abby smile so big at the people around her, not even noticing you standing there, shocked as ever. Nora turns toward you with her eyes conveying all of the words she can’t say. Without a second thought, you dart toward the bathroom down the hallway.

The door locks behind you, leaving you to try to catch your breath from the ache that resonates in your chest. You haven't realized you've started crying until you see the tears dropping into the sink you’re hunched over. Shaky hands reach up in an attempt at wiping the wetness from under your eyes but it's no use, the tears never ending. You meet your reflection in the mirror, the girl staring back at you not someone you can even recognize anymore. She is a girl who has been reduced to watching the person she loves from the sidelines. The girl who used to be the first person her lover would call with good news, cast to the side. The question is, how much more of this heartache can she bare before she fully breaks?

— — — — — 

The car ride home is silent, no words spoken between the two of you, only the sound of the engine fills the void. You’re turned towards the window, staring out into the stars that glow in the sky. You notice from the corner of your eye that she keeps glancing at you, but she's yet to say a word. By now, the tears from before have dried up, leaving your puffy eyes and smudged mascara in its wake. As the streets pass by, you try to calculate how much longer until you’re home, so you can bundle up in your bed and sleep the night away.

The sound of Abby clearing her throat knocks you out of your thoughts, casting your gaze in her direction. One hand is on the wheel and the other rests on the middle console between you two, she continues to glance back and forth between you and the road, asking, “Did you have fun?”

Your eyes cut back to the window while responding with a “Mhm.” You hear Abby sigh out, now turning into your neighborhood. The sound of your foot tapping fills the car, anticipating getting out of this confined space with her. 

As she pulls into the driveway she says, “Well, are you going to congratulate me on my promotion?” You scoff in return, whipping back to where she sits as she puts the car in park. 

“I’m sure Jessica has done enough congratulating for the both of us,” you reply, getting out of the car with a slam of the door. Not long after, you hear the driver's door slam as well and heavy footsteps walking up to follow you up on the porch. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, with a defensive tone in her words. You shake your head, unlocking the front door, your back still facing her. Once the door is unlocked, you rush inside to remove your shoes at the entryway. 

As you lean down to untie your shoes, a hand is placed on your shoulder, pulling you around to face her. Abby stands with her arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrow furrowed in accusation, “What are you trying to say?” Yet again, you shake your head in disbelief. 

“You tell me, Abby. I mean, Jessica was the first to know about the big news and you didn’t even bother to tell me before we went to the party,” you gasp out at her ignorance. It’s her turn to shake her head as she reaches up to rub her temple as if what you’re saying is making her head hurt.

“Jessica is one of my closest friends and coworkers, y/n. Of course I told her first,” she sighs out, meeting your intense gaze once again. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull at her words.

“Over your girlfriend of three years?” She looks down at your reply. You scoff once again, “Well I can certainly see what’s been keeping you at work for so long these past few weeks.” 

Something snaps in her at that moment. Her head whips up, the signature braid following suit. You watch at the way her eyebrows furrow even further and her lips come up in a snarl in accordance to the accusation. She walks closer to you, now standing about a foot away so you have to look up to meet the anger she holds in her eyes. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she grits out, losing all composure she previously had. “I work my ass off for you all fucking day and you have the audacity to accuse me of cheating on you? Have you lost your fucking mind?” 

You shrink under her angry gaze, dropping your head to stare at your feet. Your shoe half-untied, and her boot clad feet contrast each other greatly. Suddenly, your trance is disrupted by the snap of her fingers. 

“No,” she mutters, “Fucking look at me.” 

Slowly, you lift your head up to meet her glare, hands beginning to shake. The weight in your chest returns and the cloudiness you felt earlier in your head reappears. You feel the quicken of your heartbeat in your chest at the way she looks at you, no love in sight.

“God forbid I have one night of relaxation with my friends and here you are bitching to me about it,” she says, her hostile tone bringing tears to your eyes. You can’t hide them from her anymore, almost sobbing out. She shakes her head at you with the same glare. 

“Now you’re crying like I’m the bad guy. Jesus fucking christ, y/n,” her voice raises, “You fucking suffocate me, you know that?” The sound of your sobs increases causing her to turn away from you. Her hands run up and down her head, trying to distract herself from the sound of you crying. Your knees feel weak as your hurt grows stronger, falling to the ground. You reach your arms around your knees to pull yourself in a ball, feeling your heart ache worsen and worsen. You watch as Abby paces the room, not saying a word. 

“Abs, I’m sorr-,” you go to apologize but she cuts you off with a raise of her hand in your direction. She shakes her head once again, not meeting your gaze. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she says, staring at the ground. Her braid hangs next to her face and you look on to see her wiping her own tears away. She straightens up after a moment and turns to the door. Grabbing her jacket, she says, “I’m gonna go. We’ll talk tomorrow.” And with that, she’s gone, leaving you to wallow away in your pain alone. 

— — — — — 

The sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your skin. Your chest still aches from the night before and your head feels like it’s pounding. Abby's side of the bed is left untouched once again, no trace of the blonde coming home last night. The sight makes your heart grow heavier but you gather yourself to the bathroom to freshen up from your slumber. 

When you exit the bathroom, you can hear a quiet murmur from outside of the bedroom. You quietly trek to the door and lean into it, delicately pressing your ear to it so that you can hear the conversation. It’s Abby, she's on the phone with someone, you notice. 

“I know the luncheon is a big deal, Jess.” you hear her mumble. “I just have to deal with y/n before I leave.” With that, you dart away from the door as your breath grows heavier. A hand reaches up in an attempt to calm the pounding in your chest, though it does little to help. You’re not surprised that once again she’s choosing a work luncheon, or Jessica for that matter, over you. But you won’t sit around waiting for her to choose you anymore.

Once you’ve made up your mind, you rush to the closet you share with Abby, grabbing your suitcase and bringing it to the bed. You scramble around the room, gathering clothes and other important things, stuffing them without care into the suitcase. Remembering your tooth brush and other bathroom items, you hurry to the bathroom to grab those as well, wanting to be packed up by the time Abby comes to check on you. 

You finish frantically packing your travel bag and emerge from the bathroom to see Abby opening your bedroom door. She notices you standing there and lets out a small smile, analyzing your expression to try to see how you’re doing. 

“Hey sweetheart, you’re awak-” she cuts herself off as she watches you walk with your travel bag to the suitcase that lays open and packed on your shared bed. “W-what are you doing?” Her voice stutters, realizing exactly what you are doing but not wanting to say it.

“I’m leaving,” you state with no room left to argue. You can’t face her like this, knowing that if you did, she would have you falling down to your knees, begging for another chance. 

She laughs out almost like she thinks you’re playing a funny prank on her, but when she sees the stone cold expression painted across your delicate features, she knows it’s not a joke. You hear her slowly make her way to where you’re packing at the side of the bed, her breathing so loud that you can hear it from where you stand. 

“Baby, just let me-,” she goes to say, however you cut her off before she can finish with a raise of your hand, the same way she did to you last night.

“I don’t want to hear it, Abby.” you say, whipping your head to face her. “I’m sure you have more important things to take care of, like that luncheon ‘Jess’ was talking about.” Your words come out harsh but it‘s nothing compared to the way she spoke to you the night before. The look in her eyes shows regret and her own pain that your actions are causing her but you can’t bring yourself  to care as you turn back toward your suitcase to finish zipping it up. You lift the suitcase by the handle and drop it to the floor and begin to walk around her, suitcase in your trail. With each step you take, you hear her exhale shakier than the time before and once you reach the bedroom door, you hear her speak up.

“Can we please just talk about this, baby?” she whispers out to you, your hand pausing on the door. You turn back toward her to find her looking at you with a crestfallen expression, tears now dripping from the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks are stained red, in the way they usually are when she’s anxious from work, but now it’s because of you. You feel yourself begin to nod and you watch as her back straightens for a moment. 

“You know what? Yeah, let’s talk,” you say, turning back toward the door to drag your suitcase down to the living room. The sound of her familiar footsteps follow you, you sitting on the couch and her on the chair next to it. You find yourself in deep thought on what you want to say to her, wanting to show her what she’s put you through.. She sits, watching you quietly, anxiously waiting for you to speak first. Her hands run up and down her muscular thighs in an attempt to calm herself down. When you finally gather your thoughts, you pan back to her. Her eyes immediately lock on to yours, and there is a hopefulness in the way she stares back at you.

“You used to be the person who I could go to with all of my problems and you would find a way to make me feel better about them,” you start, watching as her head drops down to stare at the palms of her hands. “Baby-” she tries but you stop her, “Let me finish.” She looks back up at you, small tears forming in her eyes, but she nods nonetheless. 

“All of my pain from the past went away whenever you were near, but now it’s like I’m begging to just be in a small portion of your life.” you say, feeling the burning from your eyes start up. “I mean, you don’t even talk to me anymore, Abby.”

She shakes her head at the weight of your words. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I’ve been so busy with work and I guess I assumed you were fine.” At her words, she wraps her arms around her body, trying to console herself. You let out a small cry at that, reaching up to wipe your face. 

“Where did you think I was, Abby? When you were out there getting your big promotions and new clients, I was here, waiting for you to come home,” you remind her, tears blurring your vision. She’s now moved to holding her head in her hands, crying harder than before. “I’ve made you my everything, I cook your favorite meals and I clean up after you, but you make me feel like I’m taking up too much space. And when I do try to talk to you, you act as if I’m wasting your time.”

Once again, she's frantically shaking her head and turning her attention back to you. “No, baby, you are never a waste of time and I love when you’re around.” You watch as she falls down on her knees in front of you, begging for you to believe her. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean anything I said last night.”

“You take my love for granted, Abby.” you whisper to her, trying to hold back the sobs that are waiting to be unleashed. “I can’t live like this anymore. Not when it feels like you just tolerate my love for you.” 

She cries harder as you stand up from your seat on the couch and grab your suitcase. The walk to the front door is hard, trying to block out the sobs from behind you. You pause once you’ve made it and turn back towards her, finding her standing up in the same spot, watching you leave. 

You give one last request, “I love you so much, Abby, but until you prove to me that you appreciate me and want me in your life, I won’t be back.” Despite the tears streaming down your face, your expression remains firm and you mean every word you say. You watch as she nods her head and makes her way over to you. With a gentle touch, she lifts her strong hands to cup your face, placing a warm kiss on the top of your head. She tilts your head up to face her blue orbs, glistening with tears, and she says, “I promise I won’t stop until I have you back.”

You nod up at her as she releases her hold on your head, and you turn back to open the door. The crisp breeze hits you as soon as you step outside with your baggage and you turn back one last time.

“Goodbye, Abby.” you say, looking at the tears continuously pouring down her freckled cheeks. Her lips pick up in a small, sad smile as she says, “I’ll see you soon, y/n.” 

— — — — —

a/n: i hope you enjoyed even tho it’s sad lmao but i’m thinking about writing a part two where abby tries to get her back (or maybe something else :0) lmk if y’all liked it 🤞

#abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby anderson angst #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #angst #the last of us #tlou

[billthedrake]

This is a collaboration that @josmith1718 and I have been working on together for a while. It's a hypnosis themed story, so be forewarned if that's not your thing.

THE PROTOCOL

By JoSmith and Bill Drake

CHAPTER ONE

I came home from work and was ready to unwind when I realized that dad was not there yet. I found it weird because he was usually back before me. Nevertheless, I went inside and began to change out of my suit and put on some shorts before warming up some food. While I was in the kitchen, dad came in and sighed as he usually did. I felt for him, single dad, divorced with a 27-year-old son living at home couldn’t have been easy on him. I did my part to lighten his stress by providing outlets for him to let loose and not be the hardass foreman he was at work at home.

"Welcome home, Dad. How was your day?" I asked as I took out a plate and served him some of the leftover lasagna I warmed up for myself.

"It was horrible, buddy. I need to relax before I start going bald." He came towards me and hugged me. I hugged him back, feeling his hard body gained from years working construction. When we separated, I smiled at him, and he leaned down and gave me a kiss. We made out a bit before he and I separated, and he went to get a beer from the fridge.

"At least you’re home, right?"

"Yeah, with my favorite guy." He replied. He was hot, literally and, well... literally. We had been going through a heatwave and he had to be on site most of the day. I was indoors but even the short distance I had to walk to my car was unbearable with the full suit and tie getup I had to wear for work. I could only imagine him sweating through his plaid shirt, dripping as the sweat traveled down his meaty pecs, down his hairy body….

I’d loved this man ever since I graduated from undergrad. When he divorced the second time, I asked him to move in with me. Sure, the apartment I had at the time was not a mansion, but we made it work. After some years and promotions, we were able to upgrade to a nice home in the suburbs. Dad continued as a foreman, and I stayed in the corporate world until they brought up the opportunity to get my MBA in a top-shelf B-school that my company partnered with.

"How was your day, buddy?" He asked as he was taking a sip from his beer. I shook my head and smiled, "Good, I got an exam tomorrow, but it's nice to have a night off." I was doing grad school part time. It was a great deal: my company was footing the bill and there was an implicit promise of a promotion after. But the evening classes and the weekends devoted to homework were kicking my butt. Thankfully, I had a great support system in my father.

After warming up the food, I brought it to the table, and he and I ate in silence. Dad was always tired, always stressed, and it was hard for me to look at him like that. He'd always warned me not to go into a manual labor profession, and I'd taken every bit of his dreams for my own future and tried to live up to them, and more. When I graduated the first time, I said that this was our degree, not just mine. This new MBA would be just as much as his as it was mine.

When dinner was over, I got the dishes and Dad began to undress, "I’m taking a shower son. I don’t want to keep the scent of the site on me any longer."

"I don’t mind it, dad..." I smirked at him.

He shook his head and came towards me, "You like your old man smelly?" He whispered in a hushed raspy tone.

"You smell like a man, dad." I responded with confidence as I finished unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

"How did I get so lucky with you, bud?" He replied before we began to make out again. My fingers felt his hard rounded muscle, dusted with his fur. Dad was big all over, beefy and strong, but his chest was the centerpiece of it all - big and round pecs that felt like stone beneath my fingers.

We stopped making out and he got on his knees, "My shower can wait but I think my corporate son needs to relax with a nice blowjob from his old man," Dad was rubbing his hand over my bulge before looking up at me again, "let me service this cock, son."

"Aren’t you tired too?" I asked, but selfishly, yeah, I wanted this as well.

"This helps me relax," he smiled and then fished out the cock from shorts and started to blow me. He was skilled, after several years of blowing me, he had learned what I liked. I never got tired of my construction worker father - my tan, muscled, hairy, beefy, sexy construction worker dad, who was more than willing to get on his knees and suck my cock whenever I needed “relaxing.” In my mind, he justified the blowjobs he expertly gave as doing it for “my son’s pleasure, not mine.” That was a facade, since every time he shot his own load, his mouth was connected to my cock. The old man loved sucking my cock just as much as I liked getting blown.

"Dad, I’m getting close, Dad, fuck, I’m getting—"

I shot and my dad greedily sucked and sucked until every drop was in his mouth and down his throat.

"Good load, buddy,” he grinned as he leaned back, a proud smile on his gruffly handsome mug. “Now, time to take my shower." He kissed my cock and got up to head to the master bathroom.

The sex was great, incredible as always, but I still kept thinking about how stressed Dad had become. That evening, I talked to him about letting me have more of the responsibility of the house and its finances. I told him that I could pitch in more, and I'd tried to get him to talk about finances. Maybe it was putting the cart before the horse, but in my head, I'd be earning a lot more by 30 and ready to ensure dad and I were financially stable enough for him to look for something more relaxed or retire outright.

I was ready to make sure dad was not so stressed all the time.

"Buddy, it’s fine how things are. I’m fine." He said, but then I continued.

"Dad, you’re stressed, and I don’t blame you at all. I have enough money to make sure that we can live comfortably. Especially after this promotion, you could potentially retire."

"I don’t..." he started to object. Then he sat back up and took off the reading glasses he had on to read his iPad, "Son, I’m happy. Being with you, making sure you’re happy, I’m fine. No need to worry about me. I’m your dad, that’s my job."

"And my job as your son is to make sure you are happy too. I’m not happy to see you so stressed." I got closer to him and began to fondle his pecs and nipples, "This, us, I’m happy... but seeing you stress over bills, that does not make me happy."

He took in what I was saying but was stubborn ol’ Dad. "In some ways, I’m old school. I am the father so that means I oversee the finances and everything that has to do with the household. I can’t just let it go…"

"You are in charge of people at work all the time. You have a lot of responsibility; I can take some for you dad. I want to do that for you. Think about it, yeah?"

"You’re so good to me, son." He kissed me before he traveled down my body, ready to give me another blowjob, "You gonna give me something to help me have a good night sleep?" He winked at me. Then I felt my dad's wet lips and soft tongue start working my hardon again. As he slowly sucked and bobbed and then went further down on me, I tried to rack my brain to remember the last day the man hadn't gotten me off at least twice.

I couldn't remember.

I was damn lucky.

***

We didn’t talk about finances anymore and went back to the same routine. Dad was great and loving, but he was also a stubborn man. Maybe I'd inherited his stubborn streak, too.

In the spring I graduated and got my promotion at work officially. I was to get a raise and a new office. It was something I was excited for. I was already doing some of the work of the new position to get used to the new processes, but as soon as my contract was renewed and everything was official, I invited dad to see my new office. He came wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans.

"Wow, my son, the executive." He was impressed.

"Junior executive," I corrected him. Mind you, my company handed out VP titles like candy, but I was proud and prouder that Dad was proud. I closed the door and lowered the blinds. It was late afternoon, and most people were leaving, but I wanted to show Dad that everything he and I worked for was beginning to pay off.

He turned around and damned if he didn’t tackle me to the wall. He was kissing me, groping me and pawing at my body.

"You look so fucking handsome in your suit and tie, buddy." He whispered as he felt the silk tie he had given me for one of my birthdays.

I bit my lip, "Dad..." My heart was beating fast and the anticipation of what was going to happen was beginning to make me get a hardon in my dress slacks.

"Let me show you how proud I am of you buddy." He whispered and then undid his shirt, button by button, he slowly began to reveal that beautiful hairy body and got on his knees. He undid the zipper of my slacks and fished out my cock, "Executive cock… fucking A, son... you’re making one of my fantasies come true."

Up until now, I thought his career dreams for me were about my financial success in life, but I was starting to get the feeling my father was into professional dudes. The fact I was his flesh and blood made his turn-on that much deeper.

The big man took his time, it was a slow session, edging me as I stayed pressed against the wall. I took off my tie and put it around his neck. We had never done something like this and since it was a first, I gave it a shot. We were pretty vanilla, more so because I could tell dad had hang ups. My old man was momentarily surprised but growled as I slipped the silk tighter around his neck. I tightened the tie and pulled him towards my cock. He got into it, doubling his efforts as I messed up his hair, "Come on, dad, suck your boy’s cock."

He nodded.

"You like that?" I growled. "Your son, the executive, is making you into his personal fleshlight."

That got a deep, heavy moan from the guy. I got rock fucking hard. In all our time together, I never got verbal like this. I never imagined my buddy-buddy blue-collar dad would be remotely into it. This was new territory for both of us. His reaction, the intensity of his blowjob, I couldn’t handle it and blew in his mouth. It felt like an eternity, but he continued to suck until every drop was taken in. When he took my cock from his mouth, some spit got on his chest. I got on my knees and rubbed the saliva all over his hairy pecs and munched on his nipples.

"Buddy..." He cradled my head, applying slight pressure to get me to bite his nipple more.

I bit and pulled; dad groaned but he never told me to stop. He pulled me up and kissed me deeply. I took off my suit jacket and rolled on the floor with him, making out, celebrating this new phase in our life.

We stopped when we heard a knock on the door telling me goodnight. I said good night, my voice hoarse but as soon as I cleared my throat, I said goodnight again and saw dad catching his breath against the wall.

I crawled and stayed next to him until I spoke, "So this was a fantasy of yours?" I asked. My white shirt was wrinkled, my suit jacket discarded on the floor, my pants dirty from the fibers of the carpet. My face flushed from a good rutting. Dad looked at me and responded with a "Yeah," with an uncharacteristic blush.

"What else do you fantasize about, dad?" I asked as he rubbed his palm. He stayed quiet but I began to get an idea when I saw the red tie near him.

"I don't know, Kyle" he began, "You gonna think less of me, son?"

"Course not," I replied. We’d been carrying on our crazy father-son affair for years, and it blew my mind that there was more to discover.

He nodded and ran his fingers along my dress shirt. "When you took control... that was very hot."

I grabbed his hand, caressing it with my fingers as he felt me up. I wasn't going soft and worried I wouldn't soon. "That turned me on, too, Dad. Maybe a little too much."

He gave me a concerned look. "We don't gotta, Kyle."

I patted his hand. "Believe me, Dad. I wanna. Just don't want you to feel less than… y’know," I laughed.

He laughed along. "Well, let's talk about more at home, OK, buddy?"

I straightened up as best as I could. I was still quite disheveled, and dad was too, but we made do with what we had and left the office smelling of sex. I left the door ajar hoping to air out some of the scent. Hopefully the cleaning people would not suspect anything. Office sex may have been risky, but I knew I'd be wanting to do that again. And from the glint in Dad's eye, I suspected he was thinking the same thing.

We picked up some takeout and a six pack on the way home. I always shuddered when we pulled up into our suburban driveway, looking like a normal son who's a temporary roommate with his father to save some money, or biding my time till I met the right girl. On the other hand, we did move to a suburb where no one knew us and could only assume who we were. No one ever asked us, and we never clarified. There was a mystery surrounding us and that made it hotter for me. Inside this home, we were father and son but so much more. Maybe even husbands someday…

After dinner, I brought up finances again. We were doing good month-by-month, but I knew we could refinance the mortgage, invest our spare cash more wisely, and start stocking away extra for our future. Dad still bristled at my bossy tendencies when it came to money. He had the experience of raising a family and being man of the house when I was growing up, but I knew more about personal finance. I just wanted him to not need to burden so much by himself.

Still, he was more open to it this time. Not saying no outright. Asking me questions. Not giving up control, but not being the normal Brian Peterson.

But even as we talked about the dullest, most boring stuff possible, his eyes shifting, looking at me with… lust. In the mood for round two or maybe he was just responding to my own lust for him. Having Dad around, living with him, supercharged my sex drive.

He finished off his beer and shot me a smirk. "Feel like hitting the bed a little earlier tonight, buddy?" he asked.

I think the office sex had amped up his libido. Me, I was just horny. "Yah," I said.

We both got up from the table and it was unmistakable, both Peterson men were horned up. My cock strained my shorts and dad had opted to go pantless, only wearing boxer briefs and an old college t-shirt of mine. Every time this man wore my clothes, it made me feel closer to him.

Something was different that night. As we headed to our room, not saying anything, there was a feeling that something had shifted. The atmosphere was supercharged, I felt warm and giddy. Dad kept looking at me and smirking that goddamn sexy smirk. Once in the room, we planted ourselves to opposite sides of the bed and did a slow strip tease for one another.

Dad had refused to go into detail about his and Mom's relationship ("too close to home, buddy"), but I gathered his second wife didn't like how much of a sex drive Dad had. She was fucking crazy, I thought, as I watched him peel off my shirt that was snug on his frame and slowly lower his underwear.

"Fuck, you have a beautiful cock, son," he hissed as I finally slipped out of my briefs. I had inherited dad's length, but had some extra girth. A lot of extra girth, to be truthful. I'm not sure where it came from, but my father seemed to enjoy it.

He kicked off his underwear and joined me naked on the bed a few seconds after I'd climbed onto the mattress. Our bodies connected and we kissed, making our way to a fully reclined position to make out. It was electric. There was never a moment in all this time we were together where the kiss lacked chemistry or passion. This man had the most talented mouth on a construction worker. His kisses were everything you read about in the hottest erotica or saw in movies.

In the midst of the make out session, I ended on top of him. My body on his, his hands on my back pulling me closer to him. His groans of pleasure as I placed my weight on him. I don't know if I took the initiative to roll on top of him, or Dad pulled me into that position. Nevertheless, my mind wandered to what he was thinking. I thought maybe he'd ask me to fuck his face. I had to go easy with that but occasionally he was in the mood for that. That was as far as ‘kinky’ our sex would get.

"You wanna fuck me, Kyle?" Dad asked. Paternal, friendly, and vulnerable all at once. I looked at him and if he wanted to know, my twitching cock on his was answer enough.

We'd tried that a couple of times. Dad at first swore that wasn't for him. Neither of my attempts was successful, it just hurt too much attempting to breach the tightness of his cherry. I didn't harp on it, or press it, but Dad knew the idea turned me on. "Yeah?" I asked, surprised.

"Go slow, OK?" He urged.

"God, yeah," I grunted. I kissed him deeply then started kissing along his neck and upper body, gradually working my way down.

Dad realized I was going to try to rim him. His hand reached out to stop me. "Don't think I'm up for that buddy. Sorry," he said.

I looked into his eyes. Those loving fatherly eyes. The man treated me right every night, and I wanted to make sure he was into every bit of this. "Sure thing, Dad," I replied. I reached for the lube I used on the rare occasions I had to stroke off on my own. Like I say, it had been a while.

I guess the stuff doesn't go bad, I thought, as I undid the cap and squirted some on my fingers. Then more.

My fingering was slow, real slow. Dad hissed some but seemed OK with it. I even got two fingers in and out easy as anything and had my father's hole stretched around a third. It was time.

I lubed up and scooted in place. Dad complied by pulling his legs back and wide, showing off his mature, furry hole that was like a hit of poppers to me. Or coke. Or heroin, or something. I just knew my dick was rock hard seeing that unviolated dad pucker and my thick dick lining up for it.

I went as gently as I could, nudging, teasing that ring before applying some real pressure.

"Oh fuck, slow!" Dad gasped. His hand reached out to touch my chest, stopping me, and his eyes looked up in a plea. I bit my lip and took a deep breath and backed off a bit.

I nodded and realized I'd have to take it slower. I leaned in and made out with him, trying to get his mind off the pain. That seemed to relax the big guy. His beefy body relaxed on the bed beneath me. I tried not to break the kiss as I tried again. Even slower.

Fuck, it didn't work. Dad let out a yelp like I'd stabbed him. "God, that fucking hurts," he cried as he broke our kiss. No more pleading in his eyes, just a lot of pain and frustration.

I rolled off him. My hardon was gone, replaced by my concern for him.

"Sorry, Kyle," he said, softly, contritely. "I know you wanted it, bad."

I sighed. "Come on, Dad. You gotta want it, too. If I wanted to fuck something not invested in it, I’d buy a blow up doll."

He turned and faced me, a hangdog look on his gruff face. "That's the thing, son. I do want it. I want to make you happy, give you that pleasure. It's just... my body doesn't seem to cooperate." He looked down at my softened dick. "I guess I kind of killed the mood, huh?"

"You didn't kill anything, Dad," I said, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was a romantic, reassuring kiss, but pretty soon we got each other worked up again. Before I knew it, I was rock hard. And Dad's fist circling around it felt amazing with the lube job I'd given myself.

"Damn," I hissed, pulling back and looking down to where Dad was giving me a hand job. We'd never done this and while it would probably never be my preferred sex act, it felt amazing just then.

"You like that buddy?" Dad growled playfully, his breath on my ear, his tongue flicking at the earlobe as his fist continued working my tool. "Fuck... I love taking care of my boy." He admitted aloud.

I turned to look at him and he held his gaze on me. I loved this man and even more because he wanted to give me his all. "You’ll take care of me, right dad?" I asked, gulping at my question. Involuntarily I thrust some into his greased fist.

"Let your old man take care of you son. That’s my job, to make sure you’re satisfied." Dad pumped me some more, looking down at my meat before looking back up at me. "Earlier, bud... when you were on top of me.... I was so fucking proud of my hot executive son.... ready to take charge."

"Oh shit," I gulped. I didn't feel like I was taking charge then. Dad was playing me like a fiddle, just like he was playing with my cock.

His lips formed a sexy leer. "You like that, huh, son? Being in charge?"

"Hell yes," I replied, gaining my voice and admitting the fantasy that had been latent. Dad was tapping into it big time that day. "I don't mean any disrespect to you, sir," I said. I hadn't called him Sir since I was like 16. But the emotions were pouring out. "But that idea.... of being man of the house... oh fuck!"

My cum was shooting. I knew I was on the edge but that orgasm hit hard and fast, by surprise.

"Shoot it, buddy!" Dad encouraged, milking me harder. "My hot fucking stud."

I felt like I had left my body how hard this orgasm had been, feeling a sudden lassitude hit me with the post-coital endorphins. My body jerked as I felt Dad kiss my belly and lick up my jets of semen. Then I felt his mouth encircle my prick, unconcerned about the lube there. Sucking me all the way down. I had a reflexive reaction to the overstimulation and almost pushed Dad off.

But the second I touched his shoulder; I had second thoughts. I knew the sensitivity would go away and that I'd enjoy another BJ. I circled my dad's delt muscle and held him to work him up and down my bone.

***

It was the weekend before Dad brought up the idea.

"Kyle... you got a minute?" he asked as I came in from mowing the lawn. We split the household duties, but given that dad worked hard in the hot sun day in and day out, I tried to tackle the major yard work.

"Yeah, Dad... what's up?"

He got me a cold soda from the fridge and pulled up a chair to our kitchen island where we had a lot of our meals. Dad had a barely concealed look of excitement on his face as he started in.

"So I've been thinking... I guess I have a lot of hang ups when it comes to sex...."

I laughed. "Dad, you're the last guy I'd say has any hang ups." I mean, the guy had blown me in the shower that morning. And then asked if I wanted seconds. "Seriously, you're incredible."

He grinned, pleased at the compliment. But he continued. "I do though. The other night, I really wanted to bottom for you. But I just have a hard time giving up control."

I grimaced. "Dad we don't gotta. If it's not fun for both of us, I don't wanna do it."

Dad was anticipating that answer. "Tell me the truth, Kyle. Would you enjoy fucking me, right?"

I didn't have to ponder the answer. "I would," I admitted. "That doesn't mean..." I started.

Dad interrupted. "Buddy, of course we don't gotta.. But I think I found a solution." He picked up his iPad and clicked on the screen then pushed it my way.

There was a webpage with big bold lettering. "HYPNOTHERAPY..., a way to take back control of your life by using our services. You too can overcome challenges and learned behaviors stopping you from being the best you."

Dad watched excitedly as I read it. "I found them through an online forum…" I raised my eyebrow and he blushed, "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, buddy… I want to be able to give you my all and found a forum with guys with similar issues as mine, unable to bottom for their partner and well… A lot of services don't let you use it for sex therapy, but several guys had good experience with this company. Said it was worth every penny."

"You want me to undergo hypnosis?" I asked slowly. I loved my dad but sometimes he could have wacky ideas.

He chuckled and shook his head, "No buddy, I want you to hypnotize me. You know, kind of get me past my mental roadblocks."

God, he was serious. I felt a flush of heat. There was something powerfully hot about the idea, but it also felt wrong. "Dad, I don’t know that it works like that."

"Won't you even fucking give it a try?" I'd never seen Dad upset at me like this, at least not in a while. "Listen... I called them and they assured me that they could do virtual training if need be." He was giving me that hangdog look of his that was hard to say no to. "It'd be an hour consultation with me and then a three-hour mini course for you. I figure after all those econ classes you'd be a quick study," he smirked.

"I'll think about it," I said.

That seemed to cheer him up and he stood up and came over and patted my shoulder. "Love ya so much, buddy," he said. "I just want to find a way to make you happy."

"You do, Dad," I replied then felt his strong muscle get closer behind me and his hand travel down my sweaty T-shirt, feeling up my chest muscle. I thought Dad had drained me pretty good earlier but I was boning up, fast. "Dad... when was the last time you edged me?"

I heard his soft chuckle. "Beats me, buddy... beach vacation last year?" He patted my pec muscle and gave my head a soft kiss. "Why don't you go shower up? I'll put on a Sox game and we'll see if I can get you to hold off blasting till the eighth inning, OK?"

I laughed and turned around to meet his kiss.

***

The next day Dad went into my home office, shut the door and did his one-on-one consultation. I spent the afternoon online with a mild-mannered guy. Handsome dude in his early 30s, he had that tech-bro attire on, but he had a way of making me feel at ease with him. He asked me about myself and my goals in life. We hadn't told the company we were father and son of course, but I talked in general terms about my relationship with Dad.

"Would you say he was a father figure for you? In your relationship..." His tone wasn't judgmental.

"Definitely," I said, and he nodded, writing some stuff down.

Then it was twenty questions about our sex life. I hesitated at first but decided to be honest and do this, for Dad.

That was the first hour. The next hour was the man describing the process - the Protocol as he called it. Dad would be asked to listen regularly to a recording, a mix of repeated words and white noise. I was given the trigger words and told how and when to use them. Beyond that there was a general script, but Tech Bro told me I’d have to use and adapt it, almost improvise. It was a method more than anything.

“It’s easier than it sounds, Kyle,” he explained. “You’re in finance right? Think of it as a flow chart or business strategy plan. You respond to Brian’s psyche.”

The man warned me about what not to do, but also allayed my concerns. "Kyle, Brian is doing this because he wants to. You can't make him do what he doesn't want to, deep down. Just remember that."

"Yeah," I said, trying to convince myself. Part of me was convinced this was all a sham and it wouldn't work. And part of me was afraid it would work all too well.

"I believe you're going to enjoy this, too," he finally said. I kind of zoned out a little, because the next thing I remember was the Tech Bro's voice. "You feeling relaxed?"

"Yeah, I am," I replied.

"Good," he said. I've sent you the link to a recorded video that will walk you through the hypnosis you're going to perform on Brian. Watch a few times before you actually do it."

With that, he signed off.

***

I gave it a week. Each night, Dad would come home, tired from work. We'd have dinner, he'd blow me and the hour before bed, he'd listen to the recording, headphones on as he lay on the couch, eyes closed. I took the time to review the instructional video.

On Friday, I got an email from the company. "Watch this and you'll be ready."

I found myself surprisingly thrilled to click the link. It was a video conference recording, only with my dad in center frame. The familiar bookshelves and posters from my home office were in the background, and I realized it was from Dad's initial consultation. Only the video started halfway in, after the preliminaries.

The man's voice was a different man’s, deeper and more seductive and monotone. "That's it, Brian... let those eyelids get heavier and heavier.... don't need to fight it. Just let it feel good."

Dad nodded and as the voice droned on in its hypnosis chant, I saw him finally relax. At first nothing seemed to be happening but then I saw dad's shoulders lean in and then his head slumped forward.

The voice became more assertive, "Good, Brian. How do you feel?"

"Relaxed..." Dad said in a monotone voice.

"That’s good to hear. Every time you hear the phrase ‘power down’ you will revert to this state, is that clear?"

"Yes..."

I was so fucking hard watching his. Particularly because I realized Dad had given up control for my sake.

"Now, let’s begin…"

I listened to how the man guided dad and how he brought him back. I was jotting down notes. When dad came back to, it was as though he was waking up from a deep sleep.

"How do you feel?"

"Relaxed, as though I just went on vacation. Thank you." Normal Dad voice, groggy from having ‘woken up.’ It was wild seeing that happen. I don’t think my father was just playing along. We were paying good money for this and if it was not working, Dad would say so.

Then the video stopped.

I was horny all afternoon. Dad sensed something was off when I got home. Friday is normally our unofficial dad-son date night. And when Dad came into the living room, he saw I was sitting nervously.

"Something wrong, Kyle?" he asked, unbuttoning his plaid work shirt. It was unusual for Dad to call me by my name unless he was mad, worried or we were at a work event, though those were rare before my promotion.

"Just a tough day at work," I lied. I forced a smile. "Why don't you get dressed and we'll go out and grab a bite."

That seemed to relax Dad as he smiled before turning to go to the room and get ready. He was looking great when he walked back to the living room wearing a clean polo shirt that hugged his beefy body and some jeans.

"Ready son? I'm starving."

I perked up over dinner but when we got home, I patted Dad's meaty shoulder once we walked into the living room. "Power down," I said, my body shaking with the nerves of what I was doing.

I honestly didn't expect this to work as easily as it did, but at hearing his trigger, Dad’s face went slack, his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes became glazed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"How do you feel?" I asked. Dad acknowledged the question but did not look at me nor register who I was.

Instead, he answered while concentrating at a point in the distance. "Relaxed and calm..."

I tried to remember the protocol. I was glad I'd watched the instructions multiple times since the words came to me readily; "Good... you know that every time you are in this state, you feel relaxed and calm, correct?"

"Yes... relaxed and calm." God, his voice was so sexy, deep and soft like this.

"Kyle put you in this place because he loves you very much. Repeat after me, ‘Kyle loves me.’"

"Kyle loves me."

"Again."

"Kyle loves me."

"Good. Kyle knows you have a hard time showing him you love him." I had to give the company credit; they'd come up with a hypnosis protocol specifically tailored to our needs.

"I do," Dad's reply came. "I love my boy so much."

My heart pounded. Dad was looking in my direction but not focusing on me as he spoke. He was open to everything I would be saying to him while in this state and he would answer my questions truthfully and with no hesitations.

"How do you want to show him your love, Brian?" It gave me a thrill to call my old man by his first name.

"I want Kyle to fuck me," Dad said simply, "I know that would make him happy."

Pretty much, things had gone to script so far, but the protocol was more about a set of prompts and ways to deal with the truth of the response.

"Will you do that for him?" I asked, a horny knot in my throat. "Will you make your son happy?"

Dad nodded. "I want to, but I couldn't… I can’t."

"Why is that Brian, why can’t you give your son this one thing?"

"Because I'm a man. Men don't get fucked."

Jesus. The man had some issues I wasn't prepared for. But it made sense my butch, blue-collar dad would have some issues about bottoming. I stepped up and touched his face. He didn't flinch and didn't lean into the caress, but he smiled dreamily.

"Kyle is a man, right?" I asked. I was ad adlibbing some, but this was basically following the protocol. Leaning into the resistance.

Dad nodded, "He is. My son is the sexiest man I know."

I was getting rock hard now. I walked backwards as I began to take off my clothes. I rubbed my cock to feed the pleasure and continued.

"You think your son is a sexy man and you love your boy very much… Do you think Kyle should be the one getting fucked instead?" I asked. This wasn't scripted but was part of the jiu jitsu move of taking the man's hangups and using them against him.

Dad's brow creased for a second then the calm returned. "No. Kyle does the fucking."

I was dripping now. I let go of my prick and stepped a little closer. I could smell the Irish Spring or whatever fucking soap he uses at the end of a hard day. "I want you to remember that, Brian," I said. "I want you to remember that Kyle does the fucking."

A part of me felt low for trying to get Dad to put out for me like this. But I remembered what the Tech Bro had said about Dad only doing what he'd want to do deep down.

My father's tranced response was automatic. "Kyle does the fucking."

I nodded. "I want you to think about that. A few times a day at least. Think about your sexy stud of a son. The executive, fucking you, seeing the love you have for him. Show your boy that you love him by giving him what he wants. And when you do, it will give you a sense of happiness and pleasure."

"Happiness and pleasure," he repeated.

"And when you feel him on top of you, his weight on top of you, you will feel safe and content."

"Safe and content."

I wasn't 100 perfectly sure if I was doing this right. Dad was zone out to be sure, but I worried he was just repeating whatever the fuck I said. So, I asked, "Why is that?"

Dad's answer had surprising clarity, as it was his normal voice speaking to me. "Because my son is a man. And men fuck, men don't get fucked."

Maybe it would take me a while to deprogram that nonsense from him, but a shallow side of me was getting turned on by the way Dad talked in such primitive, black-and-white terms about fucking.

"Good," I instructed. "Now..." It was time to return to the Protocol. "I want you to envision an empty room. An empty white room. Totally white. Blindingly white..."

"Yes..."

I moved back away from him, a few paces away.

"Good. I want you to concentrate on my voice. As I begin to count to five, you will be walking towards a door. Kyle will be there, walking with you, making sure you are taken care of."

Dad took a breath and nodded, his big chest rising and falling.

"You do not need to do this alone," I continued. "Kyle will be with you every step of the way. I’m going to count to five and once I get there, I want you see the door. When we get to the door, I’ll tell you what will happen next." Dad didn’t respond but nodded as he began to concentrate on what I was saying.

"One... you are walking forward..." Dad began to walk towards me, "two... you are reaching out to hold Kyle’s hands, he alone brings you comfort and relaxation..." Dad reached towards me and soon as my hands touched his, he held on to them with a firm grip... "three, we are walking to the door I mentioned. It’s getting closer... four, we are almost to the door... Five, we are here..."

"I can see it," Dad said softly. It's bright but I can see it." His voice was deep but excited.

"Open the door. What do you see?" I asked. The Protocol was about the implantation of a suggestion and the reinforcement of that before the session was over.

"Our bedroom," Dad replied. Again, his voice had a strange clarity. "I'm on it, on my back... and Kyle is fucking me."

I almost came then, but luckily my hand was nowhere near my cock.

"How does that make you feel, getting fucked by your sexy son?" I asked.

"I am relaxed and content… And happy. Kyle is making me happy."

"The same way you feel when you are sucking your son’s cock, worshiping it, making it shoot for you… that’s how it’ll feel when you let yourself get fucked by him… you’ll feel pleasure beyond what you could imagine."

"When he fucks me..." his voice was getting that soft drone like quality again.

One big no they told me was not to have Dad under hypnosis for too long. Especially for the first sessions. It was time to bring him back.

"Good, Brian. Close the door." I saw Dad do the motion of closing the imaginary door hesitantly, he wanted what he saw but until now, that was more of a dream than a reality.

"Think of that moment, Brian. Think how happy you were, how happy you made your son. All that matters now is that you show your love for your son. He deserves it as much as you do, to feel the pleasure only you two can give each other. Understood?"

Dad nodded. I wanted to kiss him, hug him, but I needed to bring him out, "Now, at the count of three, you will follow all my suggestions while you were under. Deep in your mind, you know that Kyle does the fucking and that to show him you love him, you have to let go and give him what he wants… what does he want?"

"To fuck me… fuck his dad…" Dad responded, biting his lip and his cock beginning to get hard.

"Yes, fucking you will give him happiness and bring you pleasure. That’s all you want, as a dad right? Bring happiness to your son?"

"Yes, I want my son to be happy…"

"And your boy wants to give you pleasure."

"Give me pleasure… my boy…"

"Yes. I’m going to count to three and you’ll wake up, not realizing you were under but following all instructions. You will not question why your son is naked and you’re not. Okay, let’s start… One.... you can feel your toes... Two.... your muscles can flex again.... Your breath getting back to normal... Three."

Dad's eyes flicked open with a suddenness that startled me.

"Fuck!" I gasped.

Dad shook out his muscles a little as he refocused on me. I saw him break into a huge smile. "Damn, buddy... looks like you couldn't wait to get me to bed, huh?" He stepped up to me and latched on to my naked muscle as he claimed a quick kiss then crouched down in front of me. Oblivious to the hypnosis he'd just undergone.

I was so primed and hard I had to pull Dad off my prick a couple of times when I was in danger of blowing too soon. And when I finally came, Dad coughed on the load, it was so heavy.

After he swallowed my load, we showered and he kept touchy feely with me, rubbing my shoulders, slapping my ass, and when we went to the living room to watch T.V., he grabbed my feet and rubbed them as he watched the highlights.

Once we went to the room, he asked if he could play with my cock again. I told him I didn’t think I had anything in me, "Come on buddy, one more go before I hit the hay."

I nodded and like a little boy on Christmas morning, he licked his lips and went down to play with his favorite toy. He sucked for almost an hour with breaks in between and when I finally shot, it was not much, but Dad happily drank it down, nevertheless.

#drakestories

[pacifierbby]

CHRISTMAS BISCUITS ✧  ; - mm x reader

➺ navi

* ੈ✩‧₊ mason and reader baking cookies for their families Christmas dinner however it didn't end up the way it planed and more of it went on them than it did in the bowel

a/n ➣hello my loveys! since Christmas is coming thought i make a story of mason baking cookies with reader i really do hope you are all enjoying your days loveys cant believe 2023 is nearly ending but another year for mason content and stories! please lovelies give me feedback on my stories it really does help me a lot with my next up coming stories much love

word count ➣ 1,7k

warnings ➣ mm fluff,kissing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you and mason was settled on your sofa the fire crackling away that mason turned on a minuet ago the logs beside the fireplace that mason cut down a few hours before the TV above playing a Christmas movie that you seen 100 times before your phone on your lap scrolling down through pinterest pulling up snowmen cookies "we should make these" you said showing mason your phone diverting his attention away from his phone to yours "you know i cant bake for shit right? did you not watch that video" mason laughed slightly making you giggle a little " i remember but it be fun plus we can bring them over to your mum's house tomorrow for the dinner " you said you always wanted to bake with mason from that video to be honest you did find it cute how confused he can be but you never brought that up and honestly that will forever stay with you and only you "alright my love come on then lets do it but first lets match our jumpers so we can take a photo together" jumping up from your couch clapping your hand very lightly since it was 9 pm at night and you didn't wanna wake your neighbors up. rushing upstairs, grabbing your Christmas jumper that you bought earlier for you and Mason. him already wearing his because he wanted to see how it fits.

Walking back downstairs your kitchen staring back at you from your living room mason already looking through your cupboards slowly walking into the kitchen wrapping your arms around his waist making him jump slightly "what you doing" kissing his neck lightly" looking for the pans and stuff" mason turned around wrapping his arms around your waist you moving your arms around his neck. mason kissing your lips ever so slightly " well it wont be in their" you giggled lightly letting go of his grip shutting the overhead cupboards and opening the bottoms cupboard doors grabbing your pans and oven trays placing them on the counter top mason watching your every move already knowing this will be a long night yes he cooked before but its always gone terribly wrong. one time he accidentally burned a pan and after that his mum wouldn't even let him touch anything cooking related "what do you need now my love" mason asked not wanting to just stand like a spear part "can you bring me the eggs and the baking soda you should know where the eggs are and the baking soda is in this top cupboard" mason rolled his eyes opening the fridge door grabbing your eggs and the butter placing them next to you . walking to the cupboard, placing his hands on your back, opening the cupboard, grabbing your baking soda that was thankfully at the front, placing it next to the butter and eggs "alright whats next?" wrapping his hands around your waist like you did to him moments before. already having the things you need on the counter top.

Putting the butter and the sugar in the large pink bowl "can you crack them eggs i'm not very good at it the egg shells always end up in the mixture" you said quietly that was one big flaw when you always cooked you always ended up cracking the eggs and the shell with it so you always end up taking ages to bake because your taking so long taking the egg shells out but thankfully mason was the pro at doing it so when it came to baking everything you always asked mason to crack the egg's. mason nodded grabbing the egg from its packet braking it perfectly adding the yolk into the mixture you adding the vanilla extract and the baking powder "alright lets do the next part" grabbing your new whisk that your mother bought you " do you want to do it" looking at mason making sure he joined in with everything which he nodded "alright" passing him the whisk watching him very warily "alright before you turn it on make sure that-" not getting time to finished your sentence mason already turned it on the mixture spilling outside of the bowel going onto his jumper " the whisk is in the bowel" you finished your sentence laughing a little grabbing it off him not wanting all the mixture to go all over your kitchen.

Alright lets do the next step looking down at your phone skipping to the next steps mason sighed behind you "i told you this is going to be a bad idea" his arms crossed around his chest like a toddler making you giggle once again "its okay mistakes happen plus i'm having fun anything with you makes it more memorably kissing his lips ever so slightly which he instantly kissed back. moving away both of you mincing each others reactions you will forever love his kisses it will forever bring something to your heart turning towards the bowel "okay" you said looking back at your phone completely forgetting what it told you to do "woo this is the fun part" rolling up your jumpers sleeves up mason doing the same behind you confused on why your so excited "alright come behind me" your hands already in the bowel. waiting on mason turning your head around to his eyebrows wiggling "not like that you freak" laughing at his little innuendo his arms coming behind you his hand placing on top of yours his soft skin and his warm hands leaving yours toasty "follow my lead" putting your hand in the mixture softly playing with the dough threading it with your hands mason repeating your actions his on the other side of the bowel. bringing his hand out from the bowel, a small mixture dough at the bottom of his finger placing the batter at the bottom of your nose laughing a little. "Mason!" You squealed, grabbing the batter, putting it on his cheek. Going back to the mixture, mixing it together, making it as dough. "Put the flour onto the counter top, but please watch the bag it's broken." Mason being the clutz he his drops the flour all over the floor and onto the both of you "oh mase" you said looking at the floor then back at him his Christmas jumper not looking so Christmas with the mixture of the flour sticking together. Mason looks down at the floor with a small pout on his face. Bending down, grabbing the bag from the floor "thankfully we still have some left," you mumbled, placing the last bit off flour onto the tops. Opening the draw, grabbing your rolling pin, and holding it out to Mason. " Come on, my love, you can do the rolling part." feeling slightly sorry for him. Maybe he is right? Maybe he shouldn't of baked at all. Mason taking the rolling pin out of your hands and putting the dough onto the flour.

Walking towards your oven, putting it to the right temperature, making sure Mason was okay with the rolling and doing the technique correctly, which he was turning the kettle on grabbing two mugs from your cupboard with hot chocolate putting the amount of scoops you need in the mugs waiting for the kettle to boil moving over to where mason was stood looking at the dough "alright we can start cutting out our shapes" grabbing the circle biscuits cutter cutting the dough into small circles placing them on the baking tray making them into small snowmen mason doing some himself "you should go on bake off" mason laughed looking at you and your hard work that you done together "wont say much about you" giving him a kiss on his cheek which he turned around making your lips pressing onto his "that's what happens trying to be a smart bum" tapping your bum lightly, hearing the kettle pinging behind you "alright lets place these in the oven and have our hot chocolate" already walking over to your oven placing the tray in the steamy hot oven putting the timer to 15 minuets. Mason pouring the hot water in the two mugs adding the milk "come on my love lets sit down for a sec" walking into the lounge your TV still playing the movie mason placing your steamy mugs on the coffee table "well at least its not all over our kitchen "looking at his mess that he created".

The oven pinging from the kitchen tells you that your cookies were done baking. you and mason cuddling on the couch like where you started off your hot chocolate settling in your systems getting up grabbing masons hand come on my love decorating time pulling mason off the sofa dragging him into the kitchen throwing him your oven gloves "you grab them while i grab my already made icing and please make sure you take them out slowly i know much clutz you are" taking the icing out of the fridge. mason rolling his eyes behind you placing the hot oven tray on the counter tops walking over to him kissing his cheek "i'm sorry but its true and don't roll your eyes at me" confused on how you noticed that but thinking maybe that's just women intuition for you. you being too interested in your decorating the biscuits not noticing Mason starting at you "What?" you asked confused why hes not joining in " i just love your concentration face i love it" he softly spoken grabbing the other icing packet starting decorating his own snowmen making you blush a little still getting used to his small compliments. feeling a cold thing at the bottom of your noise, knowing Mason did it again this time with the icing. walking over to where he stood, putting some down his back. "What the hell, that's cold!" Mason shouted you, smiling while watching him struggle getting it out of his jumper. him stopping looking at you bent over slightly laughing at your actions, him slowly walking over, putting the full tube of icing down your neck. you copying his exact actions your cookie decorating completely forgotten about, and that was the last time you and Mason cooked cookies together.

#manchester united #imagines #football imagine #football imagines #football #imagine #football fanfic #football x you #footballer imagine #football x oc #football x y/n #football x reader #mason mount blurb #mason mount #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #man utd #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x oc #mason mount x reader fanfic #mason mount fics #mason mount concepts #mason mount one shots #mason mount drabble #mason mount angst #my writing

[ladylooch]

a fic where the reader face rides nico?

A/N: Babe, say less.

Part of What My World Spins Around AU because I really needed some Nico fluff. Hope you don’t mind!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content

I’m in the kitchen on a random Thursday night in the middle of the season. Nico is with Lucie in her room, feeding her a bottle while I load the remaining dishes from dinner into the dishwasher. I can hear my husband on the monitor, soothing Lucie’s distressed noises. 

“Baby.” Nico sighs to her, exasperation beginning to lace his voice. He’s been trying to feed her for the last fifteen minutes but she’s fighting tooth and nail between eating and falling asleep. “Do you just want to sleep then?” Nico asks. I pop a detergent tab into the dishwasher, then press the start button. I move to watch as Nico sets her bottle on the dresser to his right, then pulls Lucie tight against his chest. His feet begin to sway the rocker a bit faster, rubbing at her back and placing his lips against her forehead. “I get it, Lu. I’d rather have mama’s boobs too.”

An amused smile pulls at my lips.

He looks so sexy being a dad to our daughter. Has since day one when he held her against his bare chest.

I begin to wipe down the kitchen counters, listening to Nico quietly whisper to our daughter. Most of the time, he relay hockey plays to her from his pervious games, but tonight is different. Nico will leave on his longest road trip of the year tomorrow afternoon and his girls are more than a little sad about it. It’s been awhile since he was gone for more than a few days at a time. This ten day trip will feel like a lifetime due to the number of miles and time zones between us.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips as I imagine our goodbye tomorrow. 

“Oof. That was a big one.” Nico murmurs, coming behind me, guiding me into the front of his body.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

“You know what’s up. You feel the same way I do about tomorrow.”

His fingers come around my waist, pressing into the faded stretch marks. He stokes across them, leaving thrilling waves rolling in my stomach. What used to be an insecurity, Nico has turned into foreplay.

“I already miss you. You know that, no?”

“I do.” I respond, turning the light off above the gas range.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, if you could put the leftovers from dinner away that would be great.”

“Sure. I’ll switch the laundry too.” He murmurs, reaching into the cabinet to pull out a stemless wine glass. He grabs the bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, pouring me a large glass. After he puts it in my hand, he turns my hips towards the hallway. “Now go to our room. I’ll be in soon.”

“I still need to wash the bottles that wouldn’t fit.”

“I will. Go. Do all the skincare.” He waves his hand at me, heading to the sink to begin filling it with hot water. I take a few steps out of the kitchen, then turn, leaning against the wall. I cross my arms over my chest, watching as the muscles of his back and arms work on cleaning our daughter’s bottles. This is when I love Nico the most- doing small things for our little family. “Baby, go.” He calls back to me after a few moments.

“How do you know I’m still here?” I ask, pushing off from the wall.

“I just do.” He still doesn’t turn, just keeps scrubbing bottle pieces.

I roll my eyes teasingly at the back of his head then make my way down to our bedroom. I do the full skincare like Nico suggests, taking the time to do a calming mask and smear all my creams and serums on. My skin is glowing and happy as I pull on one of Nico’s shirts for my pajamas in our large closet. I flip the light off, pausing in the doorway when I see Nico sitting on the end of our bed, staring at me.

“Hi?” I question, holding the trim in the doorway, looking at him with cautious eyes.

“Hi.” 

“What’s up?” I ask as I walk towards him. 

“Remember when we were on vacation in Paris?” He starts as I step between his wide-set thighs. 

“Which time?”

“Media tour time.” 

“Ah, yes.” My eyes widen a bit at him.

“What did you immediately think of?” 

“Our hotel room.”

“Where we were doing what?”

“Nico.”

“Babe.” He smirks up at me, fingers brushing along the backs of my thighs. He grabs two large handfuls of my ass, squeezing. I fall forward and his lips press against my abdomen.

“When I sat on your face.”

“Yeah. I was thinking… we should do that tonight.” My eyes close as he removes one of his hands from my ass to lift his t-shirt on me. “Wanna taste you before I go on the road.” I was honestly exhausted before I came in here, but his touch and words are awakening a need in me. His fingers move up to the waistband of my panties, hooking through and nudging them off my hips. They pool on the floor at my feet. Nico encourages my right leg up, then my left until I’m straddling his lap.

I slowly lower my face to his, pressing our lips together in a soft kiss. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. His hands go to my hips, rolling them into where he is hard against my inner thigh.

“Maybe I want that instead?” I whisper against his mouth.

“Maybe you’ll get it later.” 

“If I’m good?” Nico smiles into our next kiss. Then he breaks it by laying on his back. I move to take my shirt off but he pauses my hands, shaking his head.

“No. I want that on you.” It’s a shirt I wore all the time when I started staying over early in our relationship. Back when we didn’t have a baby or a million responsibilities and we forgot the world in Nico’s apartment. Some things have changed, but how much we want each other really hasn’t. It just takes a little more planning these days, except tonight.

Tonight, it’s spontaneous combustion.

Nico guides my hips up his body until I’m over his face. He grins up at me as he moves the shirt to bunch around my hips. I grab a fistful of the fabric to keep it up. I admire the view of him. He looks so good down there- an NHL captain ready to feast on his last night in town. I think of the women who wait in his hotel lobbies across North America, hoping for a piece of him. His tongue comes out, connecting with my clit and I exhale in pure joy. They’ll never have him like this. He’ll never worship the ground they walk on like me. Because I gave him his whole world four months ago.

My confidence is high. I moan loudly, letting my head fall back, hair dancing down my back. It’s long enough that it brushes Nico’s hand on my right hip. He release it, giving the ends of my hair a gentle tug. His tongue swirls into a steady circle, putting the right kind of pressure to build. 

“Mmm.” I hum appreciatively. I lick my lips, looking back down at him. His brown eyes are liquid goo. I rake my right hand through his locks, holding his scalp for balance as I gently roll my hips into his mouth. His cheeks tighten as he encloses his mouth over my clit and begins a light suction. Our eyes stay connected, making everything hotter. “I love you.” I moan as his tongue separates my folds again, swiping along my clit in the right way. “Damn, Neeks.”

His hands on my hips encourage them to roll along his face. I do so, moaning at the delectable pressure of it all. My muscles clench around the emptiness. A whine comes out of my lips as Nico notices then works two fingers into my entrance. I roll my hips again, fucking his fingers and his face. Nico groans encouragingly as I lean back, groping at his hard erection. 

“Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” He tells me, then attaches his lips back onto my bundle. I rotate again and again, working myself to the ultimate release. I come loudly against Nico’s face, shuttering and shaking while wetness glides down his fingers, dripping onto his bare chest. Nico places open mouthed kisses on my folds, gently working me down from my high. Eventually, he releases my hips to let me sit on his chest. His fingers trail gently over my butt and up my spine to my mid-back then down again.

“That was better than Paris.” I admit with a satisfied smile on my face.

“Way better.” I put my hand in the bottom of my t-shirt, then wipe it across Nico’s mouth to take me off of him. We both laugh, then separately bite our lips.

“Wish you could come on the road with me. Have you this way after every game…” He trails off, fingerprints perusing the top of my thigh.

“Me too. Room service every night… Waking up to your face every morning.” I work my butt off his chest so I can lay next to him instead. He rolls onto his side, guiding our legs to tangle together. His lips come to mine, pressing feathery, tender kisses there until my eyes close and I sigh into his mouth. I reach down to his shorts to give his erection a squeeze.

“I’m good tonight.” He says. “Only about you.” These nights are rare, but I accept his choice, moving my hand to his hip instead. “I can’t imagine living without this.” He repeats what he has consistently told me since the early days of our relationship. “Every day it gets better with you, babe.”

I nod in agreement, pressing my cheek to his chest so we can settle into a bit more quiet. His fingers weave lines along my back, bunching up his shirt on me as he does. Nico is falling asleep quickly. His hand stops moving against my lower back as soft breaths fill the space above my head.

I stay up longer, listening to the slow thumping of his heartbeat knowing everything is perfect.

#nico hischier fic #nico hischier smut #nico hischier fan fiction #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey writing #writing request #NHL smut

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

matt and reader are really good friends and one day reader finally asks matt out and he says yes but then a case or daredeviling runs late and reader ignores him for the week because he stood her up but with a happy ending??

omg I love this sm! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

rooftop apologies (Matt x f reader)

wc || 1.4k

warnings || don’t think there are any

masterlist + rules

taglist

You and Matt have been great friends ever since college, your friendship has always been something you valued deeply- just a fun and genuine connection.

You, Matt, Foggy and Karen were having a friend's night at Matt’s apartment, all exchanging funny stories while you shared Chinese food.

“Who wants the last spring roll? It’ll have to go in the trash if no one claims it.” Foggy said while shaking the box as if to tempt you all.

“I can’t- I’m full.” Karen sighed as she leaned back into the sofa.

“No- no, get that away.” You swatted the box, not able to manage another bite.

“Well, if no one else does.” Matt responds, digging his chopsticks into the container.

“I actually should be going… I have a meeting with Ellison early in the morning.” Karen says, sitting up straight.

“I really should too, got a big case coming up.” Foggy says with a sigh.

You all said your goodbyes, hugging each other before parting. Foggy and Karen got a taxi together, but you stayed behind to help Matt clean.

“No leave that, I’ll do it in the morning.” Matt says walking over to you in the kitchen.

“It’s okay, I’m nearly finished anyway.” Placing the clean dishes on the rack. “It’s a ‘thank you’ for paying my part of dinner.” You joke.

“I didn’t- oh.” Chuckling as he got a beer from the fridge. “Okay, yeah I can deal with that.” Uncapping the bottle, taking a sip as he rested against the worktop.

“Just messing with you, but these are finally done… need any other help?” Drying your hands as you looked around his apartment.

“No no- you’ve done more than enough, thank you.” Smiling at you as he rested his chin on the top of the glass bottle.

“Okay, I’ll get out your hair.” You say excusing yourself.

“You sure? We can sit on the roof, like old times?” He sweetly offers.

“I’d love to, but I have an early shift tomorrow.” You lied as you picked up your bag. You wanted to stay but whenever it was just you two, you felt like you were going to blurt out the thing you were trying to hide from him. Or that he’d figure out you were hiding something by listening to the way your heart pumped wildly.

“That’s okay, maybe next time.” He kindly reassures with a smile.

Putting on your shoes and coat, walking to the front door with Matt tailing close behind. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn around to face him. “Hey, Matt?” You slowly start.

“Yeah.” Matching his tone with yours.

“Would you maybe like to go out sometime?” You ask with help from liquid courage.

“Like uh- like a date?” He smiles.

“Um- yeah, but it doesn’t have to be.” Feeling flustered.

“I’d love to. How about Friday at seven? I’ll pick you up.”

“Perfect. Great, okay, uh- see you soon.” Kissing his cheek goodbye as you left. 

Exiting the building, you look up to see Matt perched at the edge of the rooftop. Even though you live in the next block over, he keeps a lookout for you- always making sure you get home safely. He doesn’t know that you know about it, and you liked to keep it that way.

//

Three days had passed since you asked out Matt and it’s now finally Friday. Shrieking out of excitement while you got ready, telling yourself to calm down as you finished off the last touches. You’ve been looking forward to this day for years. You had always had a crush on Matt, but you’d dare say anything about it- hating the possibility of ruining your friendship.

Checking your phone to see that it was five past seven, it’s okay it’s only been five minutes, he’ll be here soon.

Slipping on your shoes and spritzing a few pumps of perfume, deciding to wait patiently by the front door.

What’s keeping him? You thought to yourself, taking your phone out from your bag to see that it’s now twenty past seven. He’s usually very punctual, so his lateness started to worry you.

Even more time passed and you felt your heart begin to sink. He’s not standing you up, right? Right? Slumping into your armchair as your feet began to ache, standing on them too long.

Pulling out your phone once more, noticing that it’s seven forty-eight. Deciding to call, in case he forgot or was lost. You knew deep down he couldn’t be lost, but you just told yourself that to make you feel better, not wanting to think about the possibility of him forgetting.

It went straight to voicemail, so you flung your phone into the sofa out of frustration.

Why is he so late?

Your phone dinged, immediately running over to check it, almost tripping on the rug in the process. Disappointment arose, looking at the text from Pizza Hut. Not who you wanted it to be.

Another hour had gone and it made your chest crumble. It forced you to think about the possibility that he wasn’t coming. Ringing him again, but having no success.

Whipping out your phone again, going onto contacts. Calling Pizza Hut and ordering the deal you had received earlier on. Changing into your loungewear as you waited for your food to arrive. Flicking through your tv, trying to find something good to watch- urgently wanting to distract yourself.

You ate your pizza in almost darkness sitting on your living room floor. Laying down flat against the floor mumbling to yourself. It’s nearly ten and you felt disappointed.

Deciding to call it an early night, you got ready for bed, removing the makeup that you had spent an hour doing. Climbing into bed, you couldn’t be bothered to brush your teeth, you just wanted to sleep.

Rolling over to see the alarm clock on your nightstand, obnoxiously showing you the time.

Several loud knocks come from your door, startling you awake. Sluggishly walking towards it, looking through the peephole.

Sadly smiling when you saw a disheveled-looking Matt. Reluctantly opening it, holding it closed as you spoke to him through the gap.

“Hi.” You grumbled.

“I’m sorry- I’m so so sorry! My case ran over and I had to chase after some people. I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you call?” You mumbled, trying to hide your sadness.

“It was in my pocket while I was fighting, it got stood on. Please can you forgive me?” He gushed, smiling at you apologetically.

“… I don’t know. I’ll just talk to you later. Be careful.” You softly say as you closed the door.

“I’m sorry.” His saddened voice echoed through the door.

You were just hurt for now, you just wanted to sleep it off.

//

A week had passed since Matt ‘stood you up’, he had called you plenty- but you only answered a couple times, keeping the conversation light and airy.

You knew he was sorry, you just felt silly for admitting your interest in him when it didn’t feel reciprocated properly.

Your phone rang, pulling out to see Matt’s name lighting up the screen. Something inside you screamed for you to answer, and so you did. Answering and putting it to your ear.

“Hey! Angel, thank you for answering. I need you to do something for me, please. Can you go up to your rooftop?”

“Why?” You asked slowly.

“Please just do it, and bring a coat.” He said cheerfully before ending the call.

Making your way up to the roof, looking around feeling confused.

“Hey, over here.” Matt shouted. “Watch your step.”

“What’s going on?” You asked as you walked over to him.

He was sitting on a picnic blanket with your favourite flowers in his hand. A few candles lit up to display a variety of snacks spread out across the blanket. You were glad you brought a coat, the New York midnight air already chilling your bones.

“What’s this for?” You questioned, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“An apology and hopefully a date. I’m so sorry about last week, I really am.” He softly coos.

“I know you are, it’s okay.” Taking a seat next to him on the blanket.

“Can I tell you something?” He chirps.

“Of course.” You beam while you chewed a couple grapes.

“I’ve been in love with you since I first met you.” Grinning at you.

Your ears pulled back as your lips tugged up into a wide smile. “So have I… I’ve loved you for years.” You finally admit.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together on the blanket, listening to all the strange and comforting sounds from the city.

#matthew murdock #matt murdock x you #matthew murdock x you #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil #oh my god

[sunsetloverrsss]

Party's and New People

Summary: Daniel and Evies first time meeting.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption, smut (p in v and oral)

It was one of the colder Fridays in April in New York and Evie really wasn't feeling all too well. She had just gotten back from the gym which had been exhausting. Evie was a sweaty mess as she entered her small apartment and hung her jacket up. She was hoping a hot shower would help make her feel better because at this moment she was not in the mood for attending her friends birthday party tomorrow. That's when there was a knock on the door. She was hoping she could just have a shower and eat dinner then go to sleep and not have to deal with anyone else that day though it looks like that was not going to happen.

Evie opened the door the see her close friend chloe behind it. "Hey chloe what's up i didn't expect to see you today" evie asked as she walked further into the small apartment and sat down. Though chloe stayed standing across from her. She didn't look all to happy either. "Whats up I'll tell you what's up this text u sent me oh hey chloe I'm not sure I'm gonna make your party not feeling the best. What the hell Evie" she shouted at her. Sensing the tension Evies dog oreo got up and placed himself next to her. She found comfort in being able to scratch his ears while talking.

"Chloe it's just I really don't feel to good and I don't want to put a downer on your party either" evie said back "Are you okay can you feel a flare up coming on" chloe said suddenly feeling a sense of guilt for shouting at her friend. "No i don't think so it shouldn't be my period isn't due till the end of the month and it usually is at its worst then I'm just not in the mood after the breakup and everything" Evie replied sadly "Oh Evie that's the reason this party will be good there will be loads of singles at it" Chloe said while giving Evie a hug. "But I understand if you don't go" she added "How about this you go home and enjoy your night with scotty and I eill think about going tomorrow" Evie said.

After saying goodbye to chloe Evie heated up some leftovers she had in the fridge and headed to bed. As she lay there in bed with oreo cuddled into her side she taught about going tomorrow maybe it would be good for her maybe she would meet someone new.

That Saturday morning Evie woke up feeling refreshed she had finished her breakfast and headed for a run. She believed seeing the views of New York this early in the morning were truly something she'd never get over she loved it. She got home had a shower and realised that she would go to chloe's party.

That night Evie was glad she had gone to the party she does enjoy a good night out and on the rooftop of the restaurant the hustle and bustle was actually taking her mind off how she had been feeling. She walked up to the bar to order drink number she could not remember although she knew she wasn't that drunk.

"Hi" came from the guy next to her at first she didn't think he was talking to her but has he continued to smile at her she replied. "Hi" she said smiling. "I'm Evelyn but everyone calls me Evie" she said to him. "I'm Daniel it's nice to meet you Evelyn or should I say Evie" he replied laughing.

As the night got colder and the two continued to talk they moved over to the little couch and daniel wrapped a blanket around the both of them to keep them warm. Evie wasn't usually someone who would warm up to a person this quickly she was more of a shy person. She doesn't know if it was the alcohol or what but she just felt safe around daniel even after just meeting him.

"This is my favourite part of the day watching the sunset" Evie says while looking at the sky. "Its so beautiful isn't it" daniel answered. "So what is that you do" he asked. "I'm a kindergarten teacher what about you" she said. Daniel looked at her a little shocked. "What" she asked suprisngly. "No nothing your just the first person to actually ask me what I do in a long time. I'm an f1 driver" he replied. "Ohh your scotty's friend. I'm sorry I don't really watch f1" she started to laugh. "Its ok finally someone who doesn't want to hang out ieth me just because of what i do" he replied

The two of them sat there for awhile enjoying each others company. Chatting away there really did forget they were in a room full of people. They both just sat there gazing into each others eyes. "Is it ok if I kiss you" Daniel asks. Evie starts to giggle. "Yes yes it is" she replies. Evie swears they are the softest lips she's ever kissed. "You know my apartment is just down the road from here" she says breaking away from the kiss. "You know if that's an invite back to your place I'd happily accept" Daniel replied. As they both took off running out of the party and down to her apartment Chloe had notice her friend leave and was happy she was looking better.

They arrived at Evies apartment and could barely make it in the front door and they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Evie lead Daniel down to her bedroom. This time it was Daniel who broke away from the kiss. "Are you sure you want to do this" he asked her. "Yes" she replied breathlessly as they both joined lips again. Daniel reached around to the back of her dress and unzipped it as Evie messed with his trousers to get them off of him. He broke away for a moment to toss away his shirt and to lay himself and Evie onto the bed.

His mouth roamed to her neck just behind her ear she could feel it already she needed him badly. All she could do was moan back. Daniel moved further down her body leaving kisses all along her. Evie continued to moan. "I need you to tell me what you want darling" "I need you to touch me daniel". He didn't hesitate as he made his way down to Evies clit attaching his lips to it and swirling hist tongue around. She was already so wet. Evie arched are back and trusted her hips into nothing.

"I need more danny" she said as the pleasure overcmse her. He inserted one digit at first moving it slowly at first and then adding a second and upping the pace. "How does that feel Evie" all she could do was arch her back and moan loudly back. As Daniel could feel Evie tighten around his fingers he removed them and took his cock in his hands. Giving it a rub up and down her slit she was so wet already its was enough lubrication though before he went any further he asked again "Evelyn are you sure you want this" this time looking her straight in the eyes. "Yes ohh God danny I really want this" she replied

Daniel inserted his cock into her slit slowly giving her time to adjust and feel him. "How does that feel" "amazing but I need you to move danny" with that go ahead Daniel started to thrust in and out of Evie slowly at first but then he picked up his pace. "Ughhh Daniel I'm so close" she screamed. She was sure she had probably woken up the neighbours. "Come on darling cum for me" he replied thrusting even harder as she tightened around his cock. Shortly after Evie's orgasm came over her and she cummed causing Daniel to cum too. He pulled out of her and lay next to her as they both lay there catching their breath. That was the best sex experience Evie could say she ever had Daniel made her feel so good the entire way through and she admired his constant checking for consent before he did something.

Daniel got up off the bed and walked over to the adjoining bathroom. "Where are you going" she asked him her legs still felt to much like jelly to move. "I'll be back in a second just what there" he replied as he closed the door. Daniel cleaned himself up and went to the toilet before he grabbed a towel from the press and wetted it. He came back out with in his hands and walked over next to Evie on the bed. "Hey how are you feeling this might be a little cold but I'm just going to clean you up ok" Evie was shocked at first she never had a man who was so intune with her aftercare before. She just nodded at him. " hey I need to hear some words to make sure your okay and that you don't mind me doing this" Daniel said again. "Yes I'm good sorry no ones ever really done anything like this for me after sex. But go ahead" she said back to him calmly now that she got her breath back. " oh I'm sorry to hear that darling everyone should be treated with the same respect after sex that their given before and during it" he replied to her. Daniel couldn't believe that men could forget about aftercare it was so important. Once he was done wiping up the mess between Evies legs he put his boxers back on. "Hey of your feeling ok why don't you go the bathroom and change into your pj's and ill go get us some water" he says to her. Evie nodded her head and agreed with him.

Once both of them returned they settled back into Evies bed. She fitted perfectly under Daniel's arm. "You know Evie I'd like to see you again maybe we could go for dinner or lunch sometime" he said to her sleepily. "I'd like thst very much Daniel" she replied. "Please it's Danny now" he said to her. They both just started to giggle.

Drifting off to sleep that night Evie was so glad she decided to go to the party she got to meet Daniel and although she'd vowed to herself only a couple of days ago that she'd never fall in love with another guy after her last relationship. She thinks it's to late because she's already fallen in love with Daniel and she could see herself walking down the aisle to this man.

A/n: Hiiii so here's the first oneshot In my story it's also how the two of them met I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. (First time writing smut so please keep thst in mind) As always my ask box is always open so send them my way if you have any questions on the story 🌸🥰

#sunsetloverss🌸 #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x ofc #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 ig au #f1 fandom #f1 instagram au #daniel ricciardo x oc #daniel ricciardo ig #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Autumn Winds and Boyfriend Hoodies

jason todd x reader

(A/N): So my last few weeks have been something like open and close a show, then get COVID, then have 6 essays due this week, but after his week, I'll hopefully have breathing room.

This is a birthday gift for the wonderful Citi @citrinesparkles who has been so patient about my ramblings and is just a lovely human. Citi, I hope you love it :)

warnings: none that i can think of?

wc: ~1200

~~~~

It’s been a long day. There’s no special reason, nothing you did or didn’t do. You had the right supplies for your before-work caffeine and you left on time. You even found a ten at the bottom of your bag that you’d completely forgotten about when you went to buy lunch. But you feel like you didn’t sleep as well last night, and someone opened a window somewhere before you’d even arrived, giving the late autumn winds full permission to whip through the building, leaving an unshakeable chill in their wake. 

It’s an even chillier two block walk from the bus station to your building, and you welcome the heat as you step inside. Your plans tonight: shower, heat up leftovers for dinner, and watch a movie or two on Netflix before you go to sleep. Even better if your boyfriend can in fact make it over by 8. You got a text earlier in the day that he’d gotten safely home from his two-day mission with minimal injuries, so you’re optimistic. You open your text chain with Jason as you walk up the stairs to the third floor to let him know you’re home and he can come by whenever. 

And then you get to your apartment, walk inside, and it’s freezing. You toe off your shoes and head towards the heater. There’s no warm air blowing — which is expected as it feels like it’s 60 degrees in your apartment — and the light that glows to indicate it’s on isn’t blinking a dull green as usual. Five minutes of fiddling later, you give up and email the maintenance for your building. The automated response you get says that they close at 6 in the evenings except for emergencies—which you don’t qualify as—and they won’t get back to you until tomorrow morning.

“Great, just what I needed,” you mutter to yourself, stripping off your coat to hang it up and dropping your bag by the door. You take off your shoes and put your keys on the hook by the door. You’re already getting chilly. “A hot shower sounds really good right now.”

There’s a knock on the door 40 minutes later, after you’ve showered and heated up dinner and gotten your food and drink to the coffee table. The TV is on, showing you the Netflix home screen. You don’t want to put your blanket on your lap while you’re eating, so you resign yourself to just being chilly for the next half-hour or so. The knock comes as you’re scrolling through your list, searching for something low-effort to watch, and you let out a heavy breath before untangling yourself from your squished position on the couch in order to put your bowl and the remote on the coffee table and open the door.

Jason’s on the other side when you open it, in sweatpants and a hoodie under a leather jacket. Just seeing him makes your evening so much better. He looks exhausted, heavy bags under his eyes and in soft clothes, and there’s a spark of warmth in your chest because he trusts you enough to see that part of him and you feel so incredibly lucky. 

“Hi,” you say, and you can feel a dopey smile crossing your face. You see Jason’s eyes scan you quickly, traveling over your snowflake pj pants and fuzzy socks and one of his t-shirts, and he smiles back at you. 

“Hi babe. Did you want to stand in the doorway all night or?” You step back, opening the door wider as he comes inside. 

“You know Jay, if you didn’t want to eat the remaining leftovers in my fridge, you could have just said so.” Jason laughs, a bright thing that makes you smile too. 

“Missed you too.” 

He takes the door to close it behind him and then leans towards you. You catch his face with your hands as his arms circle around your waist and back. It’s a soft kiss, and his lips are warm, staving off the chill that you’ve felt since you walked in, and you take a second to press your forehead against his temple, just relishing in the fact that he’s here, safe, with you. 

He’s a little taller than he usually is, and you look down when you step back; he’s wearing work boots. He only wears those when he needs to fit something bulky in his shoes because he doesn’t have to tie them. 

“Minimal injuries, huh?” you ask. Jason follows your eyes down to his shoes and shrugs. 

“I’m walking, so I’d say it’s minimal.” You turn to the kitchen. 

“Sit down and put whichever ankle it is on the coffee table. I’ll get your food. And an ice pack.” 

When you look back at him, Jason is grinning. He hangs his leather jacket on his hook on your coat hanger. 

-

By the time you get back to the coffee table, any warmth you’d been feeling is gone, and the ice pack you have in your hands isn’t helping. You hand Jason the ice pack first and he positions it properly over his ankle before you hand him his food. He takes it with a murmured ‘thanks,’ and you hum in response, picking your food back up and sitting back in your spot on the couch. Your food isn’t warm anymore, more lukewarm, but you’re not willing to uncurl again just to heat it up. 

Jason’s settled on a movie, you realize; there’s something paused on the screen. You didn’t even hear him start it. 

“Babe, you okay?” When you look at him, Jason’s face is creased with concern. You feel guilty for making him worry when he just got back and you’re frustrated at yourself that it’s something so mundane. 

“I’m cold.” The words sound sort of whiny and pathetic to you when they come out of your mouth, but Jason’s face lights up. 

“Hold this,” he says, passing you his bowl. You take it, confused, as he wriggles around, pulling off his hoodie. It’s dark red and huge and has a tiny logo in the corner of what you think is a Wayne Enterprises shelter in the narrows. Jason takes his bowl back and hands you the hoodie, then motions for you to give him your bowl. You hesitate, fingers twitching towards the sweatshirt.

“I run warm, so don’t feel like you’re putting me out. It’s all yours, babe.” 

It takes you a second to find the hood and the sleeves, but it’s warm and smells like Jason’s favorite cologne and a little bit of cinnamon.  

You turn to Jason, fixing the hair that had gotten messed up as you yanked the hoodie over your head. He’s staring at you, a smile on his face you’d never seen before. 

“What?” you ask, taking your bowl back from him. “Are you realizing I look better in it than you do?” 

A snort of laughter from him startles you into your own laughter. For the first time all day, you don’t feel a chill.  

-

Later on, when your food is finished and there’s a large bowl of popcorn on Jason’s lap that you’ve both been taking from throughout the movie, you’re sure you’re keeping the hoodie. And you’re right; Jason doesn’t get it back until he moves in with you, years later. By then, the logo’s peeling, but it’s softer than it used to be. 

The smiles Jason makes when he looks at you though? Those are the same. 

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd blurb #jason todd imagine #my writing #citi that you for you patience and I hope you like it #i did mention sweaters #hopefully this brings you a little bit of warm in the autumn chill #emerson writes sometimes

[sarcasticfina]

For the prompts post if you are taking, 13 for buddie 💖

Im so glad to see you on my dash btw

i'm trying to get inspired to write fic so please send me some prompts from either of these sentence prompt lists: one, two (see original post for ship options)

13. Do you ever think we should just stop this? (credit)

It was late, and dark enough that Buck couldn't see much more than the outline of Eddie beside him. He should be sleeping. They had work tomorrow, and Chris had to be dropped off early for that science club he joined. Did Eddie pack his lunch already? They were a little distracted earlier...

In his defense, he hadn't seen Eddie outside of work for like... four whole days. That was a lot for them. Maybe he should double check the fridge. Chris had been snacking more lately. Another growth spurt. He could use an extra pack of carrot sticks or something anyway. Or maybe some of that trail mix he loved, even if he did add mini marshmallows to it, which wasn't exactly the healthiest snack...

"Stop thinking," Eddie grumbled. "Go t' sleep."

"Hey, did you pack Chris' lunch?"

Sighing, Eddie raised his head, hair in disarray, and squinted at him. "Huh? Yeah, I... Before. After dinner, I threw something together. Why? Is that what you're worrying about?"

"I'm not worried. I was just... wondering." Buck shifted around on the bed awkwardly and shrugged. "Did you add extra snacks? He's been eating more lately..."

"Uh-huh." Eddie dropped his head back down to the pillow. "Threw in some carrots and dip and some of that trail mix. Was like half marshmallows; you gotta stop letting him talk you into that."

"It was not half..." Buck rolled his eyes. "Anyway, it's balanced out with all the nuts and raisins and dried apricot."

"Mmm."

Buck drummed his fingers atop his stomach, blanket pulled up to his chest. "Should I go out to the couch? He might have questions if he wakes up before us."

Silence answered him. But not an 'Eddie fell asleep' silence, no. This was tense, 'how do I respond to that?' silence. The worst kind of silence.

"Eds?"

"I heard you. Just... Uh... Do you wanna sleep on the couch?"

Buck frowned at the ceiling. "Not exactly comfortable for my back."

"Okay. Then stay here. I can set an earlier alarm if you want..."

Buck hummed. "I should've planned better. I wasn't even gonna come over. I was going home but then I just... didn't." He glanced in Eddie's direction. "You know, we never really talked about what the like... boundaries are."

"...boundaries," Eddie repeated. "About sleeping over or...?"

"All of it. I mean." Buck shrugged. "We just kind of... started this... thing... and we didn't really talk about it."

"Thing..."

"Historically, I'm the impulsive one, but you're not, so maybe I was expecting you to take the reins on how to handle this. Not that I was planning for us to become this. And it's not all on you, obviously."

"This thing?" Eddie sounded a little amused now and Buck frowned.

"I just don't want to overstep. Or make assumptions. Or... I don't know. I don't want to risk this... us... i don't want to do anything that might hurt Chris."

Eddie didn't respond immediately, and that heavy silence filled the room again. "What are you saying... exactly?"

"I guess..." Buck sat up and shuffled backwards. "I mean, do you ever think we should just stop this? Just go back to how it was before? Before we tried to be... more."

Eddie let out a quiet sigh and then he was shifting to sit up too, his back resting against the headboard. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. First, Chris is fine. He will be fine."

"But how do you know?"

"Because he's Chris. Because he loves us and we love him. Because no matter what happens, I know you will always be a part of his life. Even if, somehow, this thing blows up in our faces, you will always put Chris first."

Buck swallowed a lump. "Yeah."

"And second, yes, we should've talked. Especially if you've been worrying about what we are. Maybe I had more time to figure out how I felt and come to grips with what it meant, I don't know. But... Evan, you're it. You're... I mean, I hope you feel the same way I do. I guess I just thought we were on the same page with how we felt. And now we're together. Boyfriend feels a little high school, but, uh, we've always been partners. Now we're just another version of that."

Warmth bloomed in Buck's chest. Partners. Yeah, that sounded right. He turned to look at Eddie, whose features were still mostly shrouded in darkness. "You're it for me too."

Eddie's shoulders slumped. "Yeah?" His voice was softer, filled with relief.

Buck grinned. "You're stuck with me for life."

Reaching over, Eddie took his hand and folded their fingers together. "Good."

"Sorry I was freaking out."

"You get in your head sometimes; I should know better. In future, we'll work on talking it out instead of waiting until..." He glanced at the old man alarm clock on his bedside table. "Dios, 2 am. Tomorrow's gonna suck."

"Whoops." Buck shuffled down the bed and pulled him along, turning onto his side to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hooked an arm around him, fingers folding around his ribs. "You can sleep in. I'll bring Chris to science club and double back for you."

Eddie mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'I love you so much,' and then pressed a kiss to Buck's birthmark. "Go to sleep, cariño."

Anxiety assuaged, Buck listened.

#buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fanfic #fanfic #prompt fill #nonny #ask reply

[lestappenforever]

Hii, could I request prompt no 9 🥺 (and if its something you'd enjoy writing could you include maxes cats in this prompt, I feel like including them or them being part of the plot would work for this specific prompt) -> but ofc no worries if you'd rather write about other things, I'll still love whatever you come up with cause I adore your writing! <3

Hello, my darling anon. ❤️

9. with Sassy and Jimmy coming right up! I also snuck in a little 32. "I love you. So fucking much."

---

9. “It’s all taken care of.” “Even the–?” “Everything.”, and 32. "I love you. So fucking much."

It doesn't happen often, Max getting sick. In fact, Max takes preventive measures on a daily basis to make sure he doesn't get sick.

He takes every vitamin the medical team has recommended for him, drinks every disgusting concoction Brad makes him to boost his immune system, and denies himself foods and snacks he desperately wants to have in order to make sure he stays in the best shape possible.

So no, it doesn't happen often, Max getting sick. But when it does, it has a tendency to hit him hard.

And of course it hits him on December 20th.

He starts feeling it a few days before, with his energy levels dropping and waking up with a headache for no apparent reason. Max finds himself thinking it's just the common cold and it will pass in no time. Then his throat starts hurting, his nose feels stuffy, and his lungs feel constricted with every inhale. By December 20th, he doesn't even have the energy to get out of bed.

It's not a cold. It's the flu, which Max hasn't had since he was a fucking kid. And it couldn't have come at a worse time, because this year, he and Charles are supposed to host Christmas at Max's Monaco apartment, with their mothers, Charles' brothers, Max's sister and her family all invited.

It's less than ideal, to say the least.

He spends the entire day in bed, but on December 21st, despite feeling even worse than the day before, he gets out of bed to start getting things ready for Christmas Eve.

Charles finds him in the kitchen when he lets himself into Max's apartment an hour and a half later, hunched over the kitchen counter with his forearms and forehead resting on the cool marble, breathing labored and wheezing.

"Merde, Max, what the hell are you doing out of bed?" Charles groans, putting the shopping bags down on the floor by the fridge and hurrying to the Dutchman's side.

"I need to start preparing for Christmas," Max tells him as Charles rubs a soothing hand up and down the length of his back.

"Like hell you do," the Monégasque snorts. "You need to get your ass back into bed."

Max lifts his head to look at Charles, and he must look like death because Charles visibly winces at the sight of him.

"Nothing is ready. The tree isn't even up yet!" Max tries to argue, but it's not a compelling argument when he can barely get the words out with his hoarse voice and reduced ability to breathe.

"I'm putting the tree up tomorrow. Now come on, back to bed," Charles says as he winds an arm around Max's waist and carefully eases him upright.

"But what about Christmas dinner? You can't cook, Charles," Max whines as he lets Charles guide him out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

Charles makes an offended noise by his side, but he doesn't argue.

For obvious reasons.

"I've booked a caterer," the Monégasque informs him.

Max blinks in surprise, staring at Charles.

"This close to Christmas?!"

"A very expensive caterer."

"I still need to wrap the gifts," Max continues to argue, even as he lets Charles sit him on the edge of the bed. The Dutchman sighs, but settles back against the pillows and pulls his legs up anyway.

"I wrapped them last night." Charles says it as he pulls the duvet up and over Max.

"The guest rooms aren't ready. My family are coming tomorrow evening," he continues with his never-ending list of things that need to be done, none of which Max has been able to get to.

"They're going to stay at my apartment until Christmas Eve, to give you more time to recover. I went to clean and get everything ready this morning," Charles declares, not at all worried. Not at all stressed.

Unlike Max.

He lays in bed, staring up at Charles through his glassy, red eyes.

"But what about Jimmy and Sassy's litterboxes? I need to clean them," Max says, trying to push himself up into a seated position.

Charles stops him with a gentle hand in the center of Max's chest, pushing him back down.

"I've cleaned them this morning. I gave them breakfast at seven on the dot, and I'll give them dinner at five."

"Their water fountain —," Max starts.

"I washed it last night. It's clean," Charles cuts him off, running a hand carefully through Max's hair.

The gentle motion makes Max's eyes flutter shut and he sighs, exhausted.

"Go to sleep, Max."

"But what about —,"

"It's all taken care of."

"Even the —,"

"Everything."

Max opens his eyes to meet Charles' gaze. He knows he probably looks horrible. But Charles still looks at him as if he's the single most stunning person he has ever laid eyes on.

"I love you. So fucking much," Max tells him seriously, and Charles smiles, letting his hand slide from Max's hair to his cheek, thumb sliding over his cheekbone.

"I know. I love you too."

Max is about to say something else, but then Charles is getting to his feet and hurrying out of the room, throwing an 'I'll be right back' over his shoulder.

Max watches him go, but he's too tired to keep his eyes open.

When Charles returns, he places Jimmy and Sassy on the bed next to Max, and the Dutchman opens his eyes to see Charles pointing at him.

"Heal him," he instructs the cats, who look at him like he's lost his damned mind.

But then Jimmy moves to settle on Max's stomach, curling up in a ball and purring. Sassy watches her brother before she goes to settle by Max's shoulder, laying her little head on Max's collarbone. And then she's purring, too.

Charles looks at the three of them, pleased.

"Good. Now make sure he stays in bed," he tells them.

Max huffs a breathless laugh, and Charles winks at him.

"Now sleep," the Monégasque demands as he leans down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead.

And Max is asleep before Charles can straighten back up, lulled into it by the soothing purrs of his cats and the warmth spreading within at being so cared for, so loved, by Charles Leclerc.

Max doesn't know what he did to deserve Charles, but he's never letting him go.

Not in a million years.

#Lestappen drabble #Lestappen prompt #Prompts #Ask prompts #Anon #Anon asks #Asks #My writing

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

LIKE A VIRGIN

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

LIKE A VIRGIN

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: After her miscarriage, Annie is ready to be intimate with her husband again.

Warnings: Fluff, sex, Andy being a sweetheart (yeap that is a warning)

A/N:  none.

Word count: 2021

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIFS not mine, you can find the credits in each gif :)

                                     ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

It was Thursday morning, Thanksgiving day. Annie and Andy got up early to start with the dinner preparations. His brother and his family were coming to visit them and spend time together as a family. Andy insisted in Tom’s family to stay with them for the weekend but Tom opted for booking a room in an hotel arguing they were still in the honeymoon stage and didn’t want to hear them having sex. Tom knew about what happened to his little sister, but he didn’t know Annie and Andy hadn’t slept together since her miscarriage. Andy was very supporting of her and never pushed her to anything pass cuddling and kissing before bed.

Tom, Martha and little Denisse, who was now two years old, arrived at noon to Newton, and after leaving their bags in the hotel they headed to the Barber’s house. As soon as they got in, Martha went to help Annie in the kitchen, while the guys took care of the kids and watch the football match on TV.

It wasn’t until almost 6 o’clock when they finally sat and had dinner.

“I think it’s time for us to say what we are thankful for.” Martha said, “I am thankful for being all of us together having dinner as a family. I know I already told you this the day of the wedding Andy but we are so happy you are part of this family.”

“I am happy too, thank you Martha.” Andy said smiling a bit of blush on his cheeks. “Can I go next?” Martha nodded as she drank from her glass of wine.

“I am thankful for this dinner, you girls nailed it. I haven’t had a proper Thanksgiving dinner since my mom passed away.” Annie grabbed his hand when he said that and rubber her thumb on his knuckles, “I am thankful for having you as a wife, I love you.” Annie mutter an I love you back, “And I’m thankful because Dr. Greene already discharged Jake.”

“Yeah! I’m big boy now!” he said lifting his little plastic cup full of orange juice.

“And because his kindergarten teacher told us he is a very smart boy and right now he is being top of his class.” Annie added and everybody clapped.

“Stop! Stop!” Jake said waving his small hand and everyone stopped, “Why you stop?” Everyone laughed.

“Happy thanksgiving everybody.” Tom said lifting the bottle of beer.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Everyone said, even little Denisse babbled something along the rest.

It was close around 11 p.m. when Tom and his family went back to the hotel. Jake was out on the couch by 9, he made all the effort to stay awake with the adults but eventually he fell asleep next to his cousin. Andy was putting away the leftovers on the fridge, when Annie walked into the kitchen.

“Baby, can you carry Jake to his room? I’m exhausted.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Annie was finishing her skincare routine in the bathroom when Andy walked into the room and got into the closet to change his clothes.

“I’m glad your brother could came,” Andy said from inside the closet as he put on some black sweats.

“Yeah, me too.” Andy could hear her now in the room along with the cold November wind hitting the window. He put on a gray shirt and walked out of the closet.

“Maybe tomorrow we could…” Andy stopped on his tracks when he saw his lovely wife wearing a black satin sleep cami with black lace on the neck line. He swallowed hard. “That’s… not covering much for tonight’s weather.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“What? No, it’s not that, you look beautiful honey, as always.” He walked to his side and climbed on the bed. He got closer to Annie and kissed her softly, he had kissed her multiple times in the past months but today it felt different, he felt the need in her kiss so he stopped. “Honey…”

“I think I’m ready, Andy.” Andy just stared at her, “I want to be with you.”

“Honey, you don’t have to do this, you know that right?” Annie nodded, “There’s no rush, and we can always wait more.”

“I just wanna see if I can do it.” Andy kept looking at her with worried eyes, “Please, I promise if I don’t like it, I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Alright.” Andy sighed, “We’ll go slowly, ok?” Annie nodded this time. “Lay down,” Annie made herself comfortable against her pillow, “And relax. If you don’t feel comfortable at any point tell me and we will stop. Ok?”

“Yes, Andy.”

“Safe word.”

“Red.”

It’s been two months, he will be lying if he said he wasn’t hard already just by seeing her in that cami on the bed.

Andy kissed her softly, his lips touching her gently exploring her like it was the first time they kissed. The kiss soon became heated, Annie opened her mouth to give access to Andy’s tongue. As soon as his tongue touched hers, she let out a small whimper and Andy stopped.

“Too much?”

“No, no. it feels good.”

He smiled and gave her a small peck. He kissed her cheek and went down to her neck and under her left ear, she whimpered again when he kissed her sweet spot. Andy’s hand went up her tight, stopping when he reached her hip.

“Are you not wearing anything underneath this?”

“Well, no. I thought, you know, easy access?” She blushed and darted her sight to the right. Andy grabbed her chin and looked at her in the eyes.

“You, little lady, are making really difficult for me not to go hard on you.”

“I’m sorry.” She said shyly.

“Honey, you are never this shy. You’re even shaking, what is it? You know we can stop, are you uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m just nervous. I feel like this was my first time. Is that wrong?”

“Of course not. I understand.”

“I don’t want to ruin it, Andy.”

“Honey,” Andy took her hand and guided her to his crotch, she could feel his hot and hard cock trough his sweatpants, “You are not ruin anything.” She swallowed, “Wanna continue?” she nodded quickly, “Words.”

“Yes, please.”

Andy grabbed the hem of her cami, and once the piece of clothing was out of her body he threw it across the room. Andy looked at his wife, her small rounded breast on full display, her puffy nipples begging for attention. He went to attack her neck again, his hand massaging one of her breast.

“Andy.” She moaned when Andy lips suck on her nipple as her hand touched the back of his head, caressing his hair.

Soon his kisses traveled down her tummy to her hips, Andy nibble at the skin where she had the scar of her surgery. He situated himself between her thighs, her pink and brown glistening folds were already a bit swollen, and he kissed her inner thighs so painfully slowly. He put her legs on his shoulders, his face got closer to her slit; his breath hitting her core; he kissed her clit, took it between his lips and sucked.

“God!”

Andy kept sucking on her clit, his tongue coming down to her hole and lap at it to grab her juices.

“Fuck, Andy!” Annie’s hand went to the back of his head and tangled her fingers on his hair. A loud moan came out of her went Andy put his middle finger inside her hitting in the right spot. Andy pumped his finger in and out without stop sucking on her clit. “Andy! OH GOD!”

Her climax hit making her arched her back. Andy stopped, moving his way up to meet her eyes, a dopy smile on her face. He kissed her, tasting her juices on his lips. Annie’s hand moved to the waistband of Andy’s sweats, pulling them slightly.

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight honey.” Andy too her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Please, Andy.” She saw him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“Please.” Andy paused for a minute.

“Fuck!” He took his pants off, his cock sprung free against his abdomen, hard and ready to fuck her, the tip of his dick was red and leaking. He stroke it without breaking eye contact with her. “This what you want?”

“Yes, I want it, Andy; please!”

He passed his tip along his folds and clit, he was about to put it in when Annie put her hand on his chest.

“Wait!”

“Ok, I’m sorry. We can do this another day.”

“No, just, can you wear a condom? I just don’t…”

“Sure, honey.” Andy moved to his side and opened the drawer on his night stand, took out the silver wrapper, opened it and slid the condom over his shaft. He moved to be on top of her again, took his member in his hand and lined in her entrance.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Andy slid slowly into her, both moaning at the feeling, she felt warn and tight against him.

“Fuck, honey.” He kept sliding in, stopping when he was fully inside, “How can you…oh god, you’re squeezing me already.” Andy took a deep breath and started thinking on anything he could not to cum. “I don’t know if I will last long, honey.”

Andy looked at her, her eyes a bit glossy, she felt a sting inside, and she couldn’t explain how she wasn’t use to Andy’s size anymore. He kissed her cheeks, and caressed her nose with his.

“Move, please.”

Andy began moving into her slow a first, seeing how her face contort with each thrust, soon their moans, groans and pants filled the silence of the night.

“Oh god, Andy!”  His thrusting began to increase, the sound of skin to skin increasing. “Please, don’t stop!”

Andy slid out of her, took her by the waist and he sat on his haunches, he lined himself in her entrance and slam his cock into her.

“Fuck!” Annie screamed.

“Move baby girl, use me to cum.” Andy said in a deep voice.

She began to move up and down and made circles with her hips as she sank down his shaft.

“That’s it baby, come on. I can feel you’re close.” Andy took one of her nipples of her bouncing breast.

“Andy, Fuck!”

Andy felt her walls clasping against his cock, her clit rubbing on his skin with each trust. He put her against the bed, slamming hard in her pussy.

“Cum for me, baby.”

A loud moan left her mouth, her pussy clenching on Andy’s cock making him cum with her.

Andy stayed inside her, his face hidden in the crock of her neck, until he heard a small whimper. He lifted his weight off of her, a few tears streamed down her face.

“Oh god, did I hurt you?”

“No,” She sniffed, “It felt amazing!”

Andy sighed and giggled, “Don’t scare me like that.” He bend down and kissed her.

After a couple of minutes he slid out of her and she shivered at the loss of contact. Andy got out of bed, took off the condom, and tossed it in the bathroom bin. He came back, searched for his clothes and put on his sweatpants. “Honey, sit up for me, please.”

She did as she was told and Andy put his shirt on her. She then took her place on her side of the bed and Andy took his, they were looking at each other.

“I missed you.” She said with a sleepy voice, “I know you didn’t leave, but…”

“I understand,” he caressed her cheek, “I missed you too.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “Want me to be the big spoon?”

“Yes, please!” She turned to the other side and Andy grabbed by the waist to pull her close. The exhaustion taking over Annie.

“Good night, honey.” He kissed her on the shoulder. “I love you.”

A low hum was all he got as a response, he smiled and hold his wife closer to him, closing his eyes and drifting off with the sound of wind outside.

#andy barber fanfic #andy barber #annie johnson #andy x annie #andy x reader #andy barber x reader #the nanny fic #andy barber fanfiction #andy and annie #the nanny au

[hippolotamus]

Hippo my lovely 💕

21 - this is a very long hug now sort of hug

If it sparks joy 💕

It did! Eventually (sheepishly kicks at the dirt) Enjoy, lovely 🦛💞🐥

For the full experience may I recommend

if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) | T | 2926 words

Just got in. See you tomorrow.

Buck pockets his phone and enters the apartment — it’s not home, never really has been — his movements slow and easy, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the sort of love and contentment that can only come from spending an evening at the Diaz house. A few precious hours of dinner, then playing Boggle and Scattergories until Chris begged off to play an online game with his friends. His limbs are loose and humming, like his veins have been injected with liquid starlight. Even the air around him feels syrupy sweet and pleasant. The kind of thick, protective cover that nothing negative could hope to ruin.

He drops his keys in the bowl and immediately walks to the fridge to put away the Tupperware container of leftover mushroom and chickpea meatballs with zoodles for tomorrow’s lunch.

Eddie picked the recipe, saying he wanted to try it. No particular reason, he just did. He’s been doing that more lately, choosing dishes he would make anyway and subbing in vegan ingredients.

Buck took notice immediately and makes sure to show his gratitude in heaping platefuls and commenting on how delicious it all is. He knows from experience that it’s all too easy to end up with dried out, inedible food that shouldn’t be fed to anyone. It’s the least he can do for his best friend making the effort to cook something special just for him. Even if said best friend will never admit that’s why he’s doing it.

At times, if Buck lets himself look too closely, it feels a lot like something else. These acts of service feel a lot like love. And it is. The sort of love two best friends who would do anything for each other have. Buck’s not naïve enough to think that Eddie wouldn’t do the same thing for any of their friends or family. But at the same time it’s also more? Deeper. A sacred bond or formula shared just between them. Like learning Bobby’s chili doesn’t work without the cocoa powder. Someone could try a million different ways and it would never turn out right.

He wants to be brave enough to name this thing they’ve been building since promising to have each other’s backs. This relationship forged in fire, mud, and tsunamis. Built on collapsing foundations, busted down doors, lightning strikes, and ‘Because, Evan’.

If he could be part of Eddie and Christopher’s lives for everything, he would do it in a heartbeat. But that always seems like too much and not enough to ask for. Because Buck is too much and not enough. Acceptable in measured increments for precise amounts of time. For now — probably forever — he tucks that dream away in favor of focusing on what he does have.

With the leftovers safely put away, he grabs a beer, twisting off the cap and listening to it slide across the countertop, finally slowing to a stop next to the utensil caddy. It’s… loud. Too loud for such a small object. Or maybe the apartment is just too… cavernous? Empty?

Buck leans back against the counter, taking a lengthy sip and visually assessing his space. He has things. The right amount of things, even. After all, he’s one single person. How much could he need? He drowns the thought with more beer when his mind tries to remind him of six cheese lasagna and couches and having the answers.

He decides it’s not worth ruining his still relatively excellent mood by worrying over something as trivial as a chunk of metal, and moves out to the patio. It might do him some good.

The atmosphere is filled with the sights and sounds of the city at night. A complex symphony of traffic, music and people wrapped in an LED haze that starts at the street and drifts slowly upward. It’s a familiar melody that, just like the apartment, isn’t home but does its best to provide comfort.

He manages to pick out a few stars peeking through. Not full constellations. Those are impossible, staying hidden like the ancient giants they are. It’s nice to still be able to see the twinkling specks, even if they’re nothing like some places he’s been.

On the ranch in Montana he would lay on the hood of his Jeep and stare for what felt like hours. Feeling small, but also like something was waiting for him. Like he was part of something bigger that he just hadn’t discovered yet. Looking at the sky now doesn’t feel that way. More like being at sea, adrift and searching. Waiting to be found, though he’s not quite sure by who or what.

It reminds him of a documentary he watched once about otters. The mothers fluff up their pup’s fur and leave them to float while they hunt for food. The babies are powerless to do anything except spin in a circle until she returns. Sometimes Buck feels like that. Like somebody has given him enough support to turn in place but not actually go anywhere.

He casts a look at the table and chairs and finds himself thinking of fixing, being at your worst, trying again anyway, and— no. Clearly being outside isn’t helping, so Buck returns indoors, hoping the television will prove to be enough of a distraction.

As he searches for something to watch, it seems reasonable he just needed a better place to focus his attention that isn’t his own inner chatter. He’s already slightly irritated that the vibrant glow from earlier has faded so significantly. Maybe there’s still a chance it can be recovered.

He quickly settles on a cooking program and that gets him smiling again. He doesn’t even particularly care what’s being presented, just that it evokes the same warmth as being welcomed home and brown eyes with flecks of gold. At least until the next episode comes on.

This one features a couple, a husband and wife posed in their studio kitchen. They’re surrounded by pristine white cabinets, gleaming mixing bowls, and perfectly measured ingredients that will make a stunning something-or-other. When it’s complete they’ll pull it from the stainless steel double oven to be served on the prop table that’s been set like a photo shoot for Better Homes & Gardens.

Buck can’t help but notice how they move in harmony, fluidly traversing around each other, like a ballet. Like partners. Maybe it’s all for an audience, but it looks genuine. Not the type of movement that’s choreographed or faked. He stares, scrutinizing every instance of adoring looks and playful gestures until something within him finally cracks.

The hollow ache that usually lives in his chest suddenly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart, causing him to wonder how such emptiness can feel so massive. As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or something. Anything to untangle the mess sitting under his sternum.

Through rapid, gasping breaths Buck tries to refocus, to take himself back. Even just fifteen minutes. Is that so much to ask? Returning to blissfully, ignorantly, mindlessly observing?

Despite what he wants, the screen remains unchanged. Mr and Mrs Fucking Perfect carry on with their routine, blurred and watery in front of him. And Buck – he’s spinning in circles again, too helpless to do anything except wait. Except he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of drifting and circling and clinging and pausing.

It’s just- when he’s the guy who’s always trying to fix things that are out of his control… what is he supposed to do?

🍠🍠🍠🍠🍠

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night. Like watching Buck smile, all pleased and fond, every time Eddie thanked him for a helpful cooking tip. Or watching Chris break out in a full belly laugh at one of Buck’s corny dad jokes.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings welling up inside, trying to prevent them from bleeding out through his pores and spilling onto Buck. Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

He starts his nightly routine, walking a path through the rooms, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. When the final throw pillow is returned and the last pile is straightened, he hears the tentative knocking.

The noise immediately puts him on edge, setting off his protective instincts. Nothing good can come from someone being at his house this late. Christopher is in bed and Buck has his own key. Eddie tiptoes across the floor to peer through the peephole, shocked to discover who’s waiting on the other side.

“Buck?” Eddie turns the deadbolt, opening the door wide for his friend.

This isn’t anything like the night he came seeking respite from Maddie’s well-intentioned visitor train. Instead of standing tall, barreling past Eddie, Buck stares straight ahead, unblinking and motionless with slumped shoulders that make him appear small. Eddie can see how his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. He looks utterly broken.

Before Eddie can say his name again, Buck surges forward over the threshold. He falls into Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pushes the door shut, not bothering to listen if it latched correctly or not. He returns the embrace, one hand on Buck’s back, the other gently petting his hair as Buck’s body shudders against his own.

He gratefully absorbs each whimper and sob. The way thick, searching fingers clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hey. I’ve got you.”

Buck was fine a few hours ago. What the hell could have happened since then?

“I- I’m sorry, Eds.” Buck begins to pull back, rubbing away the wetness on the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have- I’m gonna–” He jerks his chin toward the doorway.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Eddie lightly grips Buck’s elbow, a silent question. Buck hesitates, looking between Eddie and the entryway, before he acquiesces to letting Eddie tug him closer again.

He wants to do any number or ill-advised things like hold Buck’s face between his palms, kiss away every tear, and murmur every wonderful thought he’s ever had about the man in his arms until Buck believes them. For now he settles for cradling and rubbing soothing patterns and silently loving. He’ll stand here all night if that’s what Buck needs. He can do that.

“I don’t know what happened. All I did was turn on Food Network,” Buck warbles. Then he shakes his head against Eddie’s shoulder, exhaling a world weary breath. A puff of air expelled by someone carrying the universe and trying to make it appear no bigger than a classroom globe. Eddie’s, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.

“That’s not true,” Buck confesses.

The silence returns and Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate on what he means. It isn’t long before the explanation comes, so muted that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m tired, Eds. Of pretending to be happy alone and waiting to be chosen. Tired of holding back just so the wrong person likes some version of me that isn’t even authentic. It’s just all so exhausting.”

I’d choose you. Three words Eddie can’t bear to make himself say out loud, because his best friend is hurting and now is most definitely not the time for that kind of confession. So he holds onto them a little longer, ignoring the sting where they settle back into his heart. A burning pain that only becomes more intense when Buck burrows impossibly closer, continuing to cling to Eddie like a lifeline.

Buck speaks again, sounding unfathomably small and heartbroken. “Am I that hard to love?”

“No.” Eddie’s answer is immediate and unwavering. As true as the night he first decided in front of their captain and an exploding ambulance.

Buck responds with a skeptical huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

Eddie slides the hand on the back of Buck’s neck forward, grazing over his cheek and under his chin until he can tip his head up. Even in the darkness, Buck’s eyes are exceptionally blue. Endless depths that manage to steal Eddie’s breath and reflect back every future he yearns for.

It’s been ages since Eddie’s given any serious thought to last first kisses or until death do we part, but he would swear under oath that’s what he sees now.

“No,” Eddie reiterates. This should probably be more difficult and be ratcheting up his anxiety. But it doesn’t. Instead he’s wrapped in a distinct calm. An undeniable certainty, because what he’s about to say is true and however Buck reacts won’t change it. “I have to say that because I love you.”

Buck blinks and his mouth falls open in an imperfect o. “Y-you what?” He whispers.

Now that he’s said it once, a second time is that much easier. “I said I love you. And I will always choose you. All of you. Over and over. Every version. If you’ll let me.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, fresh tears starting to pool there, and he looks at Eddie with such awe and disbelief, like he can’t accept that someone would genuinely want him. Not that he doesn’t understand the feeling, but it shatters Eddie to think Buck has spent even a second believing he’s unlovable.

“Of course I’ll let you. How is that even a question?” Buck asks, as if they haven’t been dancing around exactly that for years. He stands to his full height, never letting his hands drop, beaming down with the smile Eddie’s claimed as just for him. “But, Eds?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“This has been a really long hug. Not that I’m complaining. I was just kinda hoping I could kiss you. Finally. I’ve been kinda wanting to for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And who is Eddie to deny him that?

“Please,” he sighs into the diminishing space between them. His tone borders on a plea, but this is Buck. The person who has seen Eddie at his most vulnerable, who sees Eddie more than he’s ever allowed anyone else.

They drift closer until their lips brush, just enough that Eddie gets a taste of Buck’s horchata lip balm. Eddie can’t understand needing more than the 3-pack he can get at the grocery store, but right now he’s not complaining about the sweet, cinnamon flavor.

Eddie deepens the kiss, pausing when he can make himself break away, just enough to murmur ‘I love you’, wanting to make sure Buck knows he’s all in. That this isn’t a fluke or temporary, pitying lapse in judgment.

Because he does, and he is, with every fiber of his being. He loves him, loves him, loves him.

Suddenly Buck pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed, his already plush lips kiss swollen, tempting Eddie to bring them back together. “I just realized I never said I love you, too. Because I do a-and I really need you to know that.”

Eddie hums appreciatively, claiming Buck’s mouth again, unable to stay apart any longer now that he knows what it is to kiss Evan Buckley. He submits to the love and adoration and the way they fit like two puzzle pieces, further solidifying how they’re meant to complete each other. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he knew what love was.

There are infinite meanings for different people. For Eddie, it’s painted in hues of burnt orange and blue. Folded in cheesy puns and always having a fresh container of oat milk in the fridge. Stated in facts about retrofitted ceiling tiles and light fixtures; conveyed in I know you did, what are you afraid of, and I misunderstood the assignment.

It’s following his heart on the winding path that led him to a reality better than any fantasy.

#soft prompts #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) #hippo writes

[starcrossedreaders]

RootBeer Floats

Azriel x Reader

Author’s note: Here is part three for you feins. If you have not read part I or part II I highly suggest you do. Thank you for all of the support, enjoy! NOT PROOF READ

Laying in bed and questioning my choice of major is not how I planned to spend my Saturday night. Mor was out on a date with her girlfriend and wouldn’t be home till tomorrow, so like any good college student I decided to take this opportunity to work on this paper. Only for me to fail immensely at getting anything done, my eye’s were becoming dry despite the glasses I put on hours before, my room was too stuffy, and the silence was too loud. One more key stroke and I would actually pull my hair out. I let out an  sigh as my head fell into hands. The base of my palms rubbed at my eyes until I was seeing white, I only lifted my head up because I heard my phone vibrate twice. Who would dare to send me a snap this hour? Checking my phone, Cassian had sent a video to a group chat that consisted of Me, Mor, Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Amren, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Over the past 3 weeks Mor’s friend group had accepted me with open arms, Nesta and I talk about the mass amounts of books we need to read or had read. Feyre had invited me to walk around a few art exhibits our school had to offer. Rhysand had asked for my help with a business venture. Cassian and I had sat in a parking lot late at night, eating greasy fast food and talked shit. I have yet to met Elain, and the last time Az and I even spoke was  their last game the other day.

Me: Congrats on the great season! You guys had a killer last game, be safe partying tonight.

Azriel : Thanks, will do.

Yea, I still cringe thinking about it. I don’t really understand why he is actively avoiding me. Maybe it’s because of the captain situation, or maybe I’m being over bearing? I fall back onto my bed sprawling out and sigh, “Men, so complicated.” I shake my head as I lift my phone to my face to watch Cassian’s video. 

“I swear to god if I don’t get written by a female I give up on life,” His face was very close to the camera in unrelenting focus. The filter stopped spinning and Cassian let out the loudest gasp known to man.

“The most chronically online person you know my ass,” He clicked his tongue before he stopped the video. Soon Mor sent a video back, “No no, that is surprisingly very accurate,” Cassian only sent a picture with him using a vulgure gesture captioned   ‘Rude ass’. 

I laugh a little, happy that I could be apart of this chaos. I scrolled through the different social media apps for a little. It was only till my stomach growled did I get out of bed. Shuffling to the kitchen I looked at the clock to see the time.

10:00

Opening the fridge to find food was utter failure as Mor, once again, forgot it was her turn to buy groceries. I’ll have to get on her about that once again. Going back to my room I threw on a hoodie, slipped on some shoes, grabbed my keys and left the shared apartment. Double checking the door was locked I made my way to the elevator.  

On the walk there humming the song stuck in my head, a flash of red hair crossed my vision before his voice filled the hall way.

“Y/N, wait up,” He did a little a jog to catch up.

“Lucien Hey, what are you up to?”  Lucien. The guy next door, he was quite handsome, super nice, a such a flirt. His long auburn hair was tied back showing off his sharp features while his wired frame glasses hid the full beauty of his golden eyes.

“Just getting dinner. What about you?” He shrugged his shoulders a little.

“I’m actually off to do the same thing,” I smile up at him.

“Well then, care to join me? I could never let such a pretty girl eat alone,” He offered his arm to me with a slight smirk on his lips.

“And I thought romance was dead. I would love to join you,” I hook my arm on to his and he whisked us away. 

On the car ride soft music played in the back ground while we tried to come to a agreement of what to eat.

“What about that one diner that is retro, I heard their milkshakes are pretty good,” Lucien quickly looked my way to gage my opinion.

“Sure why not, I could eat a burger right now,” 

“Great, me too.” He laughs a little bit as he drives towards our agreed location. 

When arriving Lucien was quick to get out of the car to open my door. When he did he offered his hand and bowed a little bit, “M’lady,” I laughed a little as I grabbed his hand and stood out of his car.  I was quick to drop his hand when we stepped foot in the restaurant.  We were quick to be seated in a booth near a window. Upon sitting down a waiter that looks like they are on their last straw drops two menus on the table. After a few moments of silences Lucien speaks up, “What do you plan on getting?”

I took one last scan before I answered, “hmm probably a burger with a rootbeer float.” I drop the menu from my face to be greeted with a smiling Lucien.

“Rootbeer float huh?”

“Of course, personally I believe they are superior to milkshakes, and you cannot change my mind,” I laugh a little upon seeing Lucien's betrayed look.

“How could say such a thing!” He gasps and puts his heart on his chest, We both let out laughs that were a little too loud for the quite diner. 

The laughing was cut short when the waiter came to take our orders. Falling in the small talk about school, life, friends, and work led into an easy way to pass time. Small shared laughs and understanding nods kept the conversation flowing before a small feminine voice floated through the air. “Lucien?”

Lucien was quick to lift his head up from our conversation, “Elain?” curiosity dripped from her name.

“Oh my gosh Hi, how are you?” She was quick to slide into the seat next him.

“I’m...good. How about you? What are you doing out this late?” He turned his whole body to face her and gave me a side glance that seemed to say: ‘I’m just as confused.’

She waved her hand lazily, “Az and I were meeting for a late dinner and I got here before him. Do you mind if I wait with you guys? Better yet, we should just all eat together!” How she was this chipperly at 10:30 at night was beyond me. What really irked me was the fact that she is supposed to be here with Azriel. This is why he was so standoffish, this beyond pretty girl in front of me, who was flirting with Lucien. What a good date. I cross my arms and scoff a little at the fact. This does not go unnoticed by the red hair across from me.

“Elain, have you met Y/N yet?” she stopped her conversation about her  floriculture class and turned her head towards me. She looked me up at down.

“Nice to meet you,” she turned back to Lucien before I could even reply. Lucien gave me a apologetic look before the bell above the door rang. Elain looked towards the door and started to wave franticly. I could only hear to foot steps of doom as he walked closer to our table.

“Azriel hey, I saw Lucien here so I figured we could all eat together,” ouch. He just nods his head a slides into the seat next to me. His scent was heavenly and left me light headed. Cedar and whisky, it had me squeezing my thighs together. 

“What’s up man,” Lucien and Azriel did the normal guy handshake.

“Not much, what about you?” Az leaned back and laid his arm on the back of the booth.

“Not much either, congrats on the season though, you guys kicked ass,” Lucien leaned back as well.

“Thanks man,” Conversation was cut short when the waiter arrived with our food and took the others orders. I smiled when the rootbeer float was sat in front of me. I was quick to take a sip, gods it was so good.

“You know those are bad for you right?” I’m going to lose my shit.

“Yes Elain I do, but quite frankly I do not care,” I smiled at her before I picked up a fry.

“Geez no need to be mean, I was just saying,” She rolled her before she slumped back in her seat.

“I’ve never had a rootbeer float before,” Azriel looked my way with a sheepish smile.

“You’re joking?!” 

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ while he shook his head

“Where was your childhood?” I was quick to steal the straw that Lucien left behind, unwrapped it and shoved it in the sugary drink. I pushed it towards him.

“Try,” He gave me a look that asked ‘are you sure?’ I only answered by pushing it closer to him.

He smiled and his grab the straw between his pointer finger and thumb and wrapped his soft, plump lips around it. He sucked lightly his Adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Gods, my thighs squished together, he was clueless to what he was doing and it made it all more painful that Elain and Lucien were sitting right across from us. He soon pulled back from the straw and time seemed to go back to normal.

“Soooo, whadya think?” He licked the remaining drink from his lips as he thought about it.

“That.... was the best drink I have had,” He smilled a little bit as he looked at me.

“Seriously?!?!”

“Yes seriously,” I smiled back.

“I’m glad you like it.” 

                                                              Azriel

That was the worst possible drink I have ever had. I would never tell her that, I mean look at how happy she looks. The smile adoring her face with the slight tint on her cheeks made her all the more beautiful.  If I was being honest I rather be anywhere but here right now, Elain was persistent to go out for dinner, which ruined my whole schedule for the day. Sleep in, eat breakfast, go to the gym, study, sleep. Simple, but much needed. Ever since the kiss with Y/N Elain has been all over me, it was smothering. It was bad before Y/N, but now? I can’t even pull up my phone without her wondering who I’m texting. I had also just learned that she had been replying to Y/N texts, or deleting the notifications. I’m trapped and I don’t know what to do.

Elain and I were just friends with benefits nothing more nothing less. We went to each other warm our beds, but now? She’s a parasite and she’s making me sick.  

Dinner was finished quickly before we were kicked out. Standing out in the parking lot we all bid our goodbyes Y/N being the last to say goodnight.

“Goodnight Az, it was nice seeing you again,” She gave me was quick hug. Her shampoo scent floating to my nose, strawberries. She was so divine. We pulled apart unfortunately and she turned to walk towards Lucien's car. Before she could go far I lunged for her arm.

“I- wait-,” She turned around and I let go her arm. What. The. Fuck. Am. I .Doing. The look of patience sent my heart racing.  

“Would... uh, would you maybe like hang out sometime soon?” I have never fumbled over my words, but I have also never seen her light up the way she just.

“I would love to,” 

“Great, I’ll text you,” 

“Goodnight Az.”

“Night Y/N.”

part IV

Taglist:

 @icey--stars @marigold-morelli

#azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #cold kiss #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar modern au #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

[heelwriting]

Right, darling?

Day/Prompt: Day 5 - "I'll be your date for the party if you don't have one yet"

Fandom/Character(s): NJPW / Wrestling / Zack Sabre Jr x F!Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 785

Summary: Reader is invited to an office christmas party but gets unwanted questions of when she is going to have a family so Zack steps up as her date.

@12daysofchristmas

She had been roommates with Zack since they were in their late 20s, at first it was just an add searching for a roommate but eventually they became really good friends.

Since Zack wrestled all over the world sometimes it was months since they saw each other and she was in charge of paying the bills and feeding the cat, they had a stable friendship but for the most part they didn’t go outside together, they had separate groups of friends and since she wasn’t on the wrestling scene she didn’t want to get involved and Zack was very respectful in that regard.

After working for her office for many years and getting picked on for never bringing a date, she was talking to another friend who was over for dinner one night, Zack was supposed to be on his room but accidentally overheard them.

When her friend left Zack came out to watch a movie with her on the living room.

“Did you have fun?”

He asked.

“Sure, we left you some salad on the fridge if you want it”

“Thanks, I’ll leave it for tomorrow”

Zack started hugging a pillow from the couch, she was watching tv but she suddenly felt his eyes on her.

“I heard you have the annual Christmas party on Friday”

She paused the tv and looked at him while nodding.

“Yeah, I just want to get over with it”

"I'll be your date for the party if you don't have one yet"

“W-what?”

“Yeah, I know how much you hate those and if I can help you get through that night I’ll do it”

She was still too perplexed and trying to understand, he never intervened in that way so she didn’t get his change of heart.

“Are you sure?”

She asked with a confused look on her face that made Zack smile.

“Hey, why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know, it’s not the kind of thing we do together usually”

She explained.

“Maybe it’s time for a change”

Zack said getting up.

“Just tell me the time we leave and I’ll be ready”

Zack left for his room but she was still weirded out by his offer, she wasn’t complaining but it was uncharacteristic of him to volunteer for a party. While in the other hand, Zack had heard her complaining about the people on her office getting on her nerves about getting married, especially her boss who was happily married and had 3 children.

Zack had a plan for the party but since he knew she wouldn’t like it he had to do it before she had the opportunity to back off.

The week passed by quickly and they finally went to the party, she walked close to Zack but not enough to be touching, she said hi to some of her coworkers, then she had to talk to her boss, she had told Zack to stay back but to her surprise he came after her a few seconds after she greeted her boss.

“And who is this handsome gentleman?”

Her boss asked watching as Zack put an arm around her shoulder.

“Well, he’s my…”

“Her husband, nice to meet you, she’s told me lots of good things about you over the years”

He put his hand out, the woman shook his hand but was very confused because of what he said.

“Ohh I thought you were single?”

Zack immediately intervened.

“Well I’m kind of in the public eye so we keep everything low key”

Zack paused talking to look at her with a warm smile.

“Right, darling?”

“Y-yes! That’s why I couldn’t talk about it”

The woman seemed pleased to hear she was actually married the whole time which as odd but it was better than the nagging she normally did, Zack had actually come to save her and she was grateful even if he didn’t tell her beforehand that he would lie.

“Well I’ll leave you two lovebirds to enjoy the rest of the night, I need to go back to my table, thanks for coming guys”

Her boss finally went away and she finally dropped her smile, she hit Zack in the chest.

“Ouch”

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to help”

He shrugged his shoulders, she had a hand over her face.

“You should have told me!”

He just laughed and she hit his arm this time.

“I knew you wouldn’t go with my idea, but see now no one will tell you anything because you have a hot husband”

She laughed with him.

“Thanks for doing this, I really owe you”

“Go get your husband some food and we’ll be even”

He winked at her.

“Right away, my dear”

#zack sabre jr #zack sabre jr fanfiction #zack sabre jr imagine #zack sabre jr one shot #njpw fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wresting fanfiction #zack sabre jr x reader #12 days of christmas #12daysofchristmas

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

"Professional" Bakers

Just know that I've never made brownies from scratch in my life, okay?

UNEDITED

Credit to the lovely swingin for the gif above.

"Okay, so it says we need eggs, flour, sugar, vanilla extract..." I said trailing off at I made sure we had everything to make brownies. Tomorrow is Addison's birthday and we wanted to do something nice for her. So, what better than making something, both chocolatey and delicious than some brownies. But the only thing is I've never made brownies before. At least not from scratch and there's a first time for everything, right? 

"Alright, the only thing missing is the chocolate chips." I nodded to myself as looked over the table of ingredients, not seeing them. "I could have sworn, I bought some though." I said to myself, checking the fridge. "Where could they- Wyatt." I shook my head as I looked for Wyatt. I didn't want to call out his name, because I wanted to scare him. I slowly looked around the house, looking for the sneaky wolf. I walked upstairs to check there to find the bathroom door closed. We usually keep it open, to let people know, it's unoccupied. I grabbed the door lightly to find it locked.

I shake my head smiling to myself. "Wyatt. Open the door, you sneaky wolf." I said, leaning up against the wall. He didn't open the door right away, but you could hear the water running before it turns off and he opens the door. "Thank you," I said plucking the chips out his claws, only for him to be a little sad about it. "Alright, how about this." I grabbed his chin gently, making him look at me. 

"If you help me with these brownies, I'll buy you another bag of chocolate chips just for you, okay?" He instantly perked up and dragged me down the stairs into the kitchen. "What first?" He asked, ready to help. I grab my phone from off the charger and read the instructions. "According to this totally reliable site, we melt the butter with the sugar, salt and cocoa powder." I grab the bowl as Wyatt grabs the ingredients, as I go over to the stove and starts the double boiler. I melt the ingredients in the bowl, stirring it occasionally as it melted, as Wyatt read the next line of instructions to me.

"Add the vanilla and eggs." He said grabbing the items as he read it to me. I let it cool a bit, before adding the vanilla and two eggs, one by one. "Okay, now we need to add the flour, you can do this part, Wyatt." I handed him the 1/2 of flour and watched as he slowly poured it into the mixture, careful not to get it everywhere, then started to fold it into the mixture. "Okayy, Wyatt. Didn't know you had a knack for baking." I fold my arms over my chest, smiling wide. "I'm not, but when I'm with you, I could do anything, as silly as it sounds." "It's not silly, Wy, it's kind of cute. But at the end of the day, this just means, I'm just that good of a chef."

I lean up against the island, smiling to myself. "That good of a chef, huh?" I nod. "What about the time you tried, cooking up brains for Zed, Eliza and Bonzo and you almost blew off the roof of the kitchen." "That was one time!" "Twice." He mumbled and covering hand with his mouth, trying not to laugh. "Twice?!" "You can't tell me; you don't remember doing that AT ZED's HOUSE. They won't even let us come over for dinner now." "That's so not true," Wyatt looked away and went back to stirring. "Wait, really?" He nods, as I get sad, and Wyatt rubs the small of my back, planting a kiss to my forehead.

"Maybe, if we finish these brownies, they'll let us back over there. And NOT to cook." I grab the bowl, and pour some of the chips in the bowl, mixing that in. "Can you watch this as I grab the pan?" He nods and I grab the pan, putting parchment paper at the bottom, and went back over to the island to find, Wyatt with his fingers in the mixture. "Wy! Get your hands out of the mixture!" I slap his hand away. "Ow!" "You probably didn't wash though dirty little paws of yours!" I laugh, pushing him away gently. "I wanted to taste it, and for your information, I did in fact wash my hands." He said with a pout. "I know, I'm just messing, can you hold this for me?" He grabs the pan still upset and I pour in the brownie mixture.

I then put it in the oven, that I had preheating before we started making the brownies. I start the timer, as we waited, Wyatt and I relaxed and laid on the couch in our living room.

Time Skip

Once the timer went off, I jumped up to grab the oven mits and took it our carefully, and Wyatt turned off the oven, I grabbed a toothpick to see if needed any more time in the oven, since we did have to cook it a little longer than what the site said. But I took the toothpick out of it, and nothing stuck to the pick, meaning it was done and ready to eat. "Is it done?" I nod, cutting it into pieces, and Wyatt being himself tried to take some, resulting in me slapping his hand away again. "Ow! Would you stop that?" "No, Wyatt. This is hot, and it's for tomorrow." "Can I have a piece, please?" I was going to say no again, but then he gave me puppy dog eyes, and I just couldn't. "Fine." He smiled and took a brownie, not a second wasted in devouring it. "I can't believe, I feel for you and your stupid puppy dog eyes.

"Well, you were the one to say 'yes,' to me and these stupid puppy dog eyes, and now you're stuck with me." I rolled my eyes, looking down with a small smile, putting the brownies away. "I did, and I wouldn't trade what we have for anything else in the world, as silly as it sounds." I grin, and as Wyatt leaned in for a kiss.

#wyatt lykensen x reader #wyatt lykensen #x reader #imagines #wyatt zombies #zombies 3