#gotta find the right vest...

[jaxyscreams]

Started working on my Rainbow Dash cosplay!

I’m working on a battle vest for her! also jean armbands and a choker made from the sleeves I cut off the jean jacket for her battle vest 😎

I gotta find the fucking ribbon box bc there’s a rainbow ribbon in there I rly wanna use for this!!

[booksmusicteaandanimals]

When you order something you need in like two weeks and not only is it the wrong thing it doesn’t fit either. I’m screaming and dying on the inside

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.8k / 22 / soap soulmate au, part 3

…

Oh, shit, Ghost thinks. What the hell did you just do?

Ghost stumbles out in the road, looking after you in shock. You just... jumped out. In handcuffs. There's no way you think you can make it anywhere like--

Oh, double shit. You're running right for the cliffs in the distance. Looks like you might make it, too. That ain't good. Morally justified or not, he's still the criminal here. If you get to rough terrain and he loses you by car and on foot, you’ll go for help, and his squad won’t stand a chance.

He swears, grabs his pistol, and points it at your back.

He has a clear shot. He's sniped easier targets.

… He sighs and lowers his gun. Johnny, you owe me one.

…

You've got a good head start on him, but when he eventually catches up, he's going to be pissed.

Your ankle and hand sting from your rough landing. Adrenaline pumping, heart racing--you've got to get to those cliffs, and fast.

Behind you, the engine roars closer. Wheels crunch over gravel. He’s catching up. But the cliffs are right there. A river snakes through the rocky terrain. If you can just throw yourself across the water, you can make it. You can lose him on foot.

You pump your legs as fast as you can. The wind burns in your lungs. Keep moving. Just a few more seconds before you reach the water.

You’re so focused on the water that your foot lands wrong between river rocks and your ankle twists. You keep going, gait lopsided. You can’t stop. Once he catches up, you’re either a hostage again or you’re dead. But first, he's gotta catch up, get out of the car, open the door, grab his gun, sprint after you--

Then his car swings around you, pulling what should be an impossible drift over the rocks, one tire scattering river water into the air. You skid to a stop, making a break for the cliffs instead. There's a waterfall. You might make it if you jump--

Then Ghost is on you, a blur from the open car door to the edge of the rocks. He grabs you almost out of the air. You land stomach-first on the ground. You grunt, windless, gasping for air. Pain surges through your body. Fuck, that hurt. The rocks are harder than the grass was. You see stars.

Then you start to realize the position you're in. Your hands are still cuffed in front of you--over your head, now--and he's got his knee on your back. He's holding you down with all his weight, the barrel of his pistol pressed between your shoulders as he grits his teeth.

"Stay. Down," he growls.

He's not gentle. It'd be inconvenient to kill you, but you're really testing his sense of pragmatism. You're making him expend a hell of a lot of effort to keep you alive--jumping off a cliff, fucking seriously?--so he doesn't owe you any extra effort toward keeping you comfortable. Quite the opposite.

You shift your pained body under his knee, groaning into the sharp river rocks cradling your face.

"I said stay down," he growls, grinding his knee down against your back. You feel every individual sharp rock pressing into your skin. "I will hurt you.”

Normally he doesn’t give warnings like this, but he figures he owes it to Johnny to keep your stupid pretty face intact. As much as he wants to put a dent in it right now. And if you keep acting all resourceful…

You keep still, trying to catch your breath. Your hands curl around the river rocks and feel around for something loose and sharp. No such luck.

He grabs your shoulder with one hand to keep you still. His knee moves off your back for a second. You realize he’s trying to get a better look at the soulmate mark on your neck.

"Got to be another John MacTavish somewhere in the world," he mutters. "Bloody common name."

He grips the back of your vest and hauls you to your feet, practically scruffing you as he drags you back to the car. He growls something under his breath along the lines of irritating little shits finding each other.

Back in the car, Ghost’s phone rings again. This time, he glances back at you and switches his phone to his non-dominant hand. He picks up his pistol with his other hand and steers with his knee.

“Ghost,” he answers. This time, the reply has him shifting in his seat. “Negative. Didn’t see her.” Another long pause. The voice on the other end is louder and more animated than the one before. “I told you I’d look, and I did. Wherever she is, she’s fine.” The reply is clipped. “The captain told you not to go looking. Chrissake, Johnny, you’re not hanging out at base looking for a date. You’re a wanted criminal. Have a crumb of self-preservation.” Another long reply, this one rising in volume. “I know. Yes. I hear you. I know— Johnny—”

He goes quiet for a long while, uttering single-syllable responses occasionally. You can’t hear Johnny’s words, but you do hear his tone of voice. He doesn't sound happy.

“If the captain tells you to stay put, you stay put. End of story.”

You glance at the rear-view mirror again. Ghost is looking back like this is somehow on you. The sour face of a man getting chewed out.

Ghost and Johnny go back and forth until Ghost finally seems to tire of it. "No, not right now," he says. "I told you what I know. I’ll call you back."

Johnny curses from the other line right as Ghost hangs up.

Your fingertips are still tingling from the sound of Johnny’s voice, even at a distance, even over the phone. Maybe from the cuffs, too.

You don’t miss the irritated look on Ghost's face. "You in trouble?" you ask.

Ghost doesn’t hold your gaze. "He's a little pissed off, yeah."

After that, you don't speak for a long time. Your whole body hurts, and the adrenaline and sheer length of this day are taking a toll. Your eyelids sag. But every time you drift into sleep, you see Johnny's face again and jerk awake. It's torture. You don't have the mental fortitude to block him out anymore. You’re terrified that wherever Ghost is taking you, Johnny will be there.

You lean your forehead on the window, squeezing your eyes shut. "So..."

"What." There's no venom behind the response this time. He doesn't bother looking at you. But he's listening.

It takes longer than you'd like to work the words you're trying to form out of your throat. "John is still in one piece?”

He keeps driving in silence for a moment. You can almost hear his brain ticking as he considers. There's a tenseness behind him, a tension that's wound up and ready to snap.

"Yeah. Got a few holes in him, but it takes more than that to keep him down. Stubborn bastard." Another long, heavy silence. His hands grip the wheel, and he glares ahead. "Got a problem with that?"

"I'm not sure."

"You got issues with Johnny, you tell me. Got enough problems without you being all coy."

“Do you, uh, have a soulmate?”

Christ, he hopes you're kidding. He can only take so much of this from Johnny, and now you? Obviously Johnny hasn’t stoppedtalking about you. Can’t stop talking about what a pretty thing you are. Face like a muse, he keeps saying. Bastard described you in so much detail that, when Ghost was surveying the Las Almas base, you popped out like a neon sign the moment his sniper scope swept over you. He could've grabbed any damn Shadow, but no, he decided to do Johnny a favor and grab you. Now he can't bloody shoot you no matter how much you deserve it. Lucky Johnny’s not here to see what a bloody mess you’ve made of yourself under his watch. Not that he tells you any of that. Best to keep Johnny in the dark until they get the information they need out of you.

"You're a hostage," he says. "Act like it. And Johnny's off the table."

That’s a relief. You dread the thought of looking Johnny in the eye and trying to figure out how to make excuses for almost killing him. You can only hope to delay it as long as possible.

…

It turns out the "base" Ghost spoke of is a shed in the middle of nowhere. A barn at best—from the outside, but from the inside, it’s huge. You recognize a few members of the Mexican Special Forces, also your former allies before your company betrayed them on Shepherd’s orders. Rodolfo in particular gives you a hard stare as Ghost drags you past him and into a much smaller room. It's a weapons closet converted into a makeshift interrogation room. He pushes you down into the chair hard by the shoulder. You lean on the table, flexing your sore wrists behind you and wishing you could just put your head down and sleep.

He keeps a close eye on you once you're down. You show no clear desire to run again and no more than a passing interest in the impressive spread of rifles and launchers on the walls. You’re in the heart of an enemy safehouse. Even if you managed to grab a gun and escape this room, every other person outside wants you dead. You’re almost glad Ghost locks the door. At least there’s a barrier between you and them.

In the dim light, Ghost notes the bruise on your cheek and the scabbed-over cuts and gashes littered over your exposed skin. Your forehead sports a nasty, wet-looking burgundy splotch where your head hit the ground after he tackled you. You look about as defenseless as a wounded rabbit. If he weren’t busy trying to keep you from escaping as a hostage, he’d probably feel bad about hurting a friend's soulmate.

He's not his most charming self here.

"Stay awake, now," he warns you.

The overhead light clicks on. Ghost stands across from you, but the person standing by the light switch is Captain fucking Price. He stares at you, his hard gaze boring into the soulmate mark on your neck.

Then he smiles. "Good find, Ghost," he says. "This is the one. Guess Soap wasn't lying."

…

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5

more Soap / masterlist tag

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit

Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!

A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;). 

Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old) 

5k words

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie. 

This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover. 

You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof. 

Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands. 

Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie. 

God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way. 

When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air. 

"Hey sweetheart." 

The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book. 

"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie." 

You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out? 

Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again. 

"So, where's the little boyfriend today?" 

"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.

His grin widened at that. 

"Oh, that's such a shame." 

He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said. 

It was like he'd read your mind. 

"He wasn't good enough for you anyway." 

"You think?" 

He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.  

"What you need is a real man." 

Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back. 

You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man. 

Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication. 

Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure. 

Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do. 

Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it. 

Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place. 

So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!" 

Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps. 

"Yeah sweetheart?" 

Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame. 

"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful. 

Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet. 

"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut. 

Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck. 

"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on. 

"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close. 

Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents. 

"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question. 

"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it." 

"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs." 

Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement. 

"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie. 

He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away. 

"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves. 

Maybe he's not going to mention it? 

The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.

Fuck, that perfect ass.

He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp. 

OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host. 

"Eddie, do you want a beer?" 

He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart." 

Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves. 

Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own. 

"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand." 

You fall to your knees beside him. 

"Show me your hands?" 

Confused, you hold your palms up. 

"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system. 

He pulls your arm gently. 

"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?" 

Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit. 

"Got it." 

"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice. 

He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck. 

"So, did you finish?" 

"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words. 

"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?" 

Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it. 

"N-no." 

"Shame." 

What sort of alternative reality is this? 

"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable." 

You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. 

"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."

Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels. 

"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?" 

"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer. 

"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all." 

Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race. 

"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt. 

"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.

You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words. 

"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. " 

You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world. 

Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth. 

Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee. 

"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-" 

"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." 

"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone. 

"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy." 

You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up. 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave." 

His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides. 

Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily. 

A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes. 

"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that." 

You stop and listen, and realise he's right. 

"Sorry." 

"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth. 

"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."

You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head. 

Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck. 

As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes. 

"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you. 

"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy. 

"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you." 

"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help." 

You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge. 

"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look. 

"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have. 

"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless." 

An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath. 

Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room. 

Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you. 

"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me." 

It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 

"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.

"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze. 

"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?" 

You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you. 

"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?" 

His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy. 

"Please, please play with my nipples." 

A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest. 

"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart." 

Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. 

Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one." 

A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly. 

"OK Eddie." 

"Good fucking girl." 

"Oh God-"

Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub. 

"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.

His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast. 

"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me." 

Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you. 

It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release. 

Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.

"Feel better sweetheart?" 

You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything. 

"Yeah I'm good." 

"Don't lie to me." 

Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes. 

"If you're done I'll leave-" 

"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,

fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.

"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"

"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me." 

"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need." 

You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver. 

"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours." 

Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap. 

"Fuck. Spread your legs a little." 

It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed. 

"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy. 

Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke. 

"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more. 

Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough. 

"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit. 

"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.

"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.

Holy fucking fuck. 

That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing. 

"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl." 

He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving. 

"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?" 

His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.

"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!" 

Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh. 

"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh. 

"I said beg." 

His ministrations start to slow. 

"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features. 

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek. 

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.

"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am." 

A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper. 

"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!" 

"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart." 

Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release. 

They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away. 

You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else. 

"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling. 

"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you. 

If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over. 

"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."

"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl." 

Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. 

Oh fuck, just look at his cock. 

It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.

"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big." 

He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow. 

Oh fuck you just said that out loud. 

"Yeah? You want it? You want me?" 

He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest. 

"I need you Eddie." 

He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his. 

"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.

"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening. 

"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up." 

"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed. 

His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.

The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips. 

"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles. 

The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips. 

Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length. 

"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside. 

"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle. 

You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can. 

 "Oh my fucking God, fuck!!" 

You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud. 

"Hey honey, we're home!" 

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. 

Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin. 

"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen. 

"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway. 

"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement. 

"Great news, night honey!" 

You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed. 

"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders. 

"But I'm not done sweetheart." 

He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.

"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"

"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his. 

"Oh Eddie, oh-" 

"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently. 

He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.

Eddie knows. 

Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process. 

Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level. 

"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again." 

Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting. 

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey

[wraithlafitte]

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hole in the wall

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’

wc: 404 | rated t | cw: Steve’s dad is an asshole, implied abusive behaviors | tags: realizing feelings, bisexual Steve, extremely subtle love confession, mention of canon events, angst with a happy ending

🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️🕳️

There’s a hole in the wall above Steve’s light switch.

It’s been there since his 14th birthday, when his dad caught him and Tommy sharing his bed. Nothing even happened, nothing would have happened, but he made assumptions, and then he made a hole in the wall.

They could have paid someone to patch it, cover it with the wallpaper, make it disappear forever. They didn’t.

It was a reminder to Steve every time he turned his light on or off what would happen if he was anything less than the perfect son his father expected him to be.

There’s a hole in Steve’s heart, too, but that one might heal eventually.

For a while, he thought it did with Nancy. He thought maybe he was gonna be able to live up to his father’s expectations, marry a girl with a big future while he can work for his dad for the rest of his life.

And then the hole in his heart grew, and the hole in his wall made him feel judged with every flip of the light switch.

Years of staring at the hole in the wall worked. It worked until Robin crashed into his life. It worked until he thought about how it can’t possibly be wrong to like boys if the best person he knows is a lesbian. There’s no way his dad was right, even if the hole in the wall argues silently with him every day.

And then he meets Eddie. He thinks about that hole in the wall while Eddie’s holding a bottle to his neck. He thinks about the hole in the wall when they’re fighting off bats, when Eddie’s staring at him while Nancy patches him up, when Eddie throws his vest at him to wear. He thinks about how little he cares about what that hole in the wall means when they almost lose Eddie.

Nothing matters more to him than making sure Eddie knows that he sealed up the hole in Steve’s heart, that he filled it with something he didn’t think he’d ever find.

He says it the moment Eddie wakes up.

“I know this means nothing to you, but you mean more than the hole in my wall. I want to give this a chance.”

Eddie’s confused, drugs in his system making it worse. But he smiles and nods.

“Gotta fix that hole in the wall, Stevie.”

“You already have.”

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Breathe It In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl takes you out on his bike for the first time.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

“Y’ever rode one before?” Daryl asked. 

You shook your head, attention running over the hot, glinting chrome and black metal. Every inch of the motorcycle was covered in dust but you knew it was an impressive piece of machinery, especially in Daryl’s eyes. And it was big. Longer and taller than you ever really noticed, now that you were the one about to climb on top of it. 

“No,” you said to Daryl. “Never even seen one up close before you got this.” 

“Ya don’ haf’ta come with me. Once we git another car, we can-“

“No, it’s fine. I’ve done scarier, right?” you said, thinking just of the past week and all you’d faced. 

He gave a curt nod. Then he swung his leg over the motorcycle, the toe of his big boot finding the kickstarter immediately. His jeans hugged his body as he hiked his knee up unnaturally high before putting all his weight on the lever, slamming his leg down and starting the bike on the first try. He twisted one of the handles as the engine revved to life as he settled in the seat. 

He looked at you, gaze cutting over his bare arm, thick with muscle. “I’ll hold it steady. Foot rests are there,” he said, pointing low on the bike to the small pegs you would use. “That’s the engine-“

“That’s the engine? The whole thing is just… right there?” 

“Where else would it be?”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t know. Enclosed somewhere maybe.”

He huffed a laugh. It made his hair fall in his face, but you could see his blue eyes studying you as he continued his explanation. 

“The exhaust pipes are down there too- careful a’ those. They get hot.” 

“Okay, so butt goes there,” you said pointing, “feet go there and don’t touch anything else.”

“‘Cept me.”

You straightened, shooting your attention back to him. “Hm?”

“Gotta hold onta somethin’. Come on, let’s go.”

You wondered if you had flushed as red as he did at his words. He was looking at his fingers wrapped around the handlebars, knuckles turning white, but you saw the pink wave crawling up his neck from his vest and landing around his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” you said, sidling up to the bike. You tried to sound teasing, but you just sounded nervous. And it wasn’t just the heavy machinery making adrenaline rush through you.

He held his hand out flat for you to grab and support yourself as you flung your leg over the side of the bike. The moment your bottom landed on the back of the seat, you felt Daryl’s wide hand around your calf, moving one of your feet into place on the pegs. It was only then you realized there were only two foot pedestals for four feet. You’d have to share. 

Once he’d moved you into place, he tapped your knee, signaling you to stay put. A cold rush of air kissed the spot his hand had just kept warm. 

Your legs pressed against the back of his body as you sat behind him, your feet on the outside of the pegs, while his thick boots stuck to the inside. Nearest to the hot exhaust pipes, you noticed. He was keeping you away from them. 

“Good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The motorcycle growled loudly at the will of his hand. Just a twist of his wrist and the bike was primed to speed off. 

He turned his head, not quite looking at you, though even then you could see his smirk. “Better hold on,” he said. 

You took the back of his jacket in your hands, balling up the leather around his hips into your fingers. “Kay,” you said, bracing yourself a bit. 

His foot rocked and his fingers squeezed, releasing the clutch and picking the gear. He twisted the handlebars, revving the engine and making the bike shake under you. To you, it was just a lot of noise and practically unnoticeable movement. To someone with motorcycling experience, it was a warning of oncoming power and swiftness. But you had no idea.

Without warning, the bike jolted forward and sped off so quickly it almost left you alone in the dirt, your grip slipping from Daryl’s jacket. 

Before you could fall off though, you hugged close to Daryl, palms open and sprawled over his chest and belly in panic. After the initial shock, however, the bike was a smooth ride as it kicked up dry Georgia dust behind its tires. That’s when you realized Daryl’s shaking and trembling wasn’t from the rattling of the bike, but from his chuckles. 

You heard his laugh even over the buzzing bike and rushing wind. It was a rare sound. Low, but free, like the rumble of an engine on a long, twisting summer road. In half mock, half true indignation, you lowered your hands to rest around his waist, meeting in the middle around his belt. Leaning up to his ear, you called to him. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes, Dixon!”

“Told’ya ta hold on,” he answered, giving your clasped hands a pat. 

“No kidding.”

He shook again. Though this time you couldn’t hear the soft chuckles that emanated from him, you knew they were there. You felt it. Just like you felt the affection radiating from him as he twisted his fingers in yours until they were interlinked. 

Before the outbreak, you never would have ridden a motorcycle. They were too dangerous. In fact, the thought of even looking at a contraption like this one, something Daryl had practically made with his own hands, without a safety helmet would never have crossed your mind. 

These days, things were different. Every day was a threat. But this, being with Daryl and sharing his pride and joy felt like the safest thing you could ever do. He was holding your hand and your arms circled him tight as you rode safely past anything questionable. 

You laid your head on the back of his shoulder and breathed it in- the freedom, the safety, the gas smell on his jacket and the smoke in his hair and you closed your eyes. And you felt his hand squeeze yours as if he was doing the exact same.

[farfaras]

Part 1.

Maybe if Steve acts casual Robin won’t even notice. She barely pays attention to him when she’s too busy rambling about her love life. Or lack there of. If Steve’s lucky, today is gonna be one of those days.

But Steve’s good luck probably ended the first time he took a look at a demogorgon.

“What is that?” Robin giggled. If she finds this amusing wait until she hears what actually happened.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That only worked when I thought you were an actual idiot.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Steve put on his family video vest and clocked in.

“What? I notice things!” Robin exclaimed when Steve made his way to the counter.

“Yeah, when you’re not too busy daydreaming about Vickie.”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“Objection!”

“Stop it!”

Steve sighed. How could you explain your friend sucked your neck to make your another friend jealous when you don’t even like said friend? Tricky.

Ugh. Robin was gonna make fun of him.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Steve tried. It was a last resort to save himself from the embarrassment.

“Yeah, because I’ve never experienced anything out of the ordinary.” She raised an eyebrow. Steve knew she wouldn’t let it go. “When did you even go on a date, dingus? I don’t remember you telling me about it.”

“I didn’t go on a date.”

“Well then who did that?” She narrowed her eyes. “Ew! Are you in a friends with benefits situation?” She look scandalized and curious at the same time. “Because honestly Steve, I don’t think that’s your thing. I mean even if you try, it wouldn’t work out. You’re like an actual romantic. Wanting a serious relationship, yearning connection and all that shit. It would be cute if you weren’t kinda desperate sometimes.” Okay he had to cut her off if he wanted to keep his ego unbruised.

“Jesus! Okay! You don’t have to say it like I’m some loser who can’t get a girlfriend!” If he needed humbling he knew who to call now though.

“But you kind of are.”

“Do you want to know or not?” Even if he was embarrassed about the whole thing, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hoping Robin would give him some insight. Once she stopped making fun of him. “It was Eddie.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and… excitement? “Holy shit! It finally happened?” What is she talking about now? “I thought I would actually have to wait another year at least for you guys to figure it out.” There’s nothing that makes Steve feel more inadequate than when he doesn’t get what people are talking about. “I mean anyone who’s got eyes could see how much you two liked each other and it’s cute but I was getting tired of the pining..” she trailed off when she saw how silent Steve was. “Why aren’t you as excited as me?”

Pining? Like each other? Did Robin think..? Did Eddie?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He questioned. His mind was going through every interaction him and Eddie once had. Trying to analyze his own behavior to come up with an explanation as to why someone would think he likes Eddie.

“Oh god. I thought. Did you guys not like… get together?” She was hesitant. It felt like she was trying not to scare a wild animal.

“No.”

“I gotta stop running my mouth like that. I’m sorry.” She looked mortified and it would be funny if this was another situation. “But what? Why would he do that? I’m so lost here, Steve.”

Steve went through backstory first, then he started retelling the events of the other day. Including how he actually enjoyed himself a little. He might as well be a hundred percent transparent, she was his best friend after all.

“Robin, say something.” His best friend being silent was not something he was used to.

“I’m so confused.” She said.

“Me too.” His confusion was starting to fade. The answer right in front of his face.

“So you’re… not together? Even after that?”

“I don’t even like him like that!”

“But you said you liked it!”

“Who wouldn’t!”

“I wouldn’t! Steve, a boy giving me hickeys is one of my worst nightmares.” He knew that. He knew it meant something that he liked it. The question is if he’s ready to face what it means.

“I- I know, okay?”

“Steve, say the word and we’ll stop talking about this.” He loves his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

“No. I think I’m ready.” Steve muttered. Robin smiled gently at him and that was all the encouragement he needed to feel safe enough to say it out loud.

“I like him.”

They hugged.

-

“It kinda sucks that he doesn’t like me back though.”

Robin thunked her head on the counter.

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

-

-

Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

-

Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[toxicanonymity]

How much Joel react if Sweet Pea snapped at him, even just a little bit?

Like she has her period now, or maybe just its super hot or some shit or no sleep or something.

Would Joel feel bad that his sweet, well-trained girl was lashing out? or would he snap right back?

Couldn't sleep. raider master

850 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

WARNINGS: angst, light manhandling, dark fluff, spanking, choking adjacent moment, grinding, reference to FEDRA assault.

A/N: analysis here. calling it a hypothetical bc it doesn't fit neatly btwn hunger and the next part.

He grabs you by the arm and you won't look at him, so he grips your jaw and turns your head. His brow furrows as he searches your face. You still don't want to meet his eyes. ”What the hell’s wrong with you today?” he bites. You don't answer. “Hmm?” He prods, tightening the massive hand on your arm with a jolt.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your eyes are welling up. He stares at your quivering lips, then your eyes as he awaits your answer. You finally look at him. “Sorry. I couldn't sleep. I'm tired.”

He lets go of your jaw and you start to pull away but his grip on your arm tightens and he asks, “That all?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle.

His jaw clenches then moves back and forth. His eyes are pensive, concerned. “‘Member what I said after ya ran?”

You nod. “that you only want me if I'm good?” A tear runs down your cheek.

His face softens and so does his voice. “I only want ya if you're–” he sighs and cups your cheek. “No, sweet pea. That ya gotta talk to me when somethin's botherin’ ya.”

You look down and away, then nod. He lets go of your arm and sits down on the bed.

“You're a good girl, sweet pea. c’mere.” He pulls you down onto his lap. He strokes the nape of your neck with his thumb. “That day ya ran. . .” He brushes a tear off your cheek. “That was real bad.” It's true. It was bad. FEDRA had you on your knees, made you play Russian roulette, stripped you. "I didn't. . ." He searches for words and doesn't find them. He looks at you with his brows knitted. “we’re past that, ain't we?”

You nod earnestly. “It was stupid. I wouldn't–it was a long time ago. I'd never-”

“'S’what I thought,” he nods. “You're my good girl, sweet pea.” He kisses you on the temple.

“You're not gonna spank me?” You look at him with wide eyes.

His nose twitches. “That what ya want?” He pulls you further into his lap and when you feel he’s hard you get a rush of arousal. He sighs, and with a smooth rotation of his body, he pushes you down on the bed face up. He pins you to it with his hips, arousal digging into your front. He wraps his hand around your throat, not too hard, but the serious look he gives you says youre not off the hook. “What ain't ya sayin'?”

You stammer, unsure what he means. You hazard a guess, “please?” Your hips lift into him.

He smirks, then it fades as he closes his eyes for a second. “No. why couldn't ya sleep?”

“I–” you sigh. “I was worried about the dog.”

He breathes out a laugh, then with his hands under your arms, he pulls you up further onto the bed so your legs aren't dangling. He sits back on his heels, straddling you with his knees. You eye the bulge in his pants. He asks, “That's it?”

“It's too cold at night,” you whine. “And what if he runs away. I can't believe all that time he was. . .” you start sniffling again.

Joel pauses, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “Alright,” he nods. “we’ll make him some place warmer. god damn.”

“Really?”

He shrugs, then leans forward and plants his forearm on the bed. He hovers over you, then puts some weight on you again, his cock harder now, making you gush as he presses it against just the right spot. “Yeah, really."

“Thank you,” you whisper. “He's still skinny.”

“Hell, make'm a goddamn vest if ya want,” Joel murmurs, searching your face affectionately.

You laugh, which makes his eyes come to life with warmth. He asks, “okay?” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “see, all ya gotta do is talk to me, sweet pea.”

You nod, then start to explain. “didnt wanna wake you up. n’ sometimes you're. . .I dunno, kinda. . .mean,” your voice trails off as you wonder if you've gone too far and second guess whether you even feel that way.

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “I'm kinda mean? Hmm” his lower lip juts out in contemplation.

“No. Well. I mean. . .”

He pushes himself up to hover over you as he forcibly turns you over face down. Then his hips press his hard bulge into your ass, and he brings his mouth to your ear. “f’i didn't know any better,” he murmurs, then lifts his hips again for clearance. “I'd think ya were into it.” He pulls up your dress and smacks your ass. You grunt and your mouth falls open with the sting of his hand, making you twitch with need. “Maybe,” you mumble into the pillow.

You sigh and push your ass up, seeking contact. You look back and he shakes his head in playful disapproval as he unbuttons his pants.

----

ty for reading.

So the answer is both - I think he'd snap back, but underneath that he'd be concerned that it's out of character for her. His concern or hurt often presents as anger or frustration at first and he's getting more emotionally intelligent to where he might realize it sometimes.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 iii. picture perfect shopping 】

summary: for a debutante, one must be the most eye catching at the ball. yuu decides to take floyd shopping with them. what they didn’t realize was how picky the prankster would be when it came to their outfit…

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: floyd leech my beloved <33 i love this guy sm, and i feel like he’s one of the twsties who’d have rlly good fashion ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

"Master~" Floyd groaned, fiddling with his tie. "Do I have to wear somethin' so uncomfortable?"

Today Yuu was supposed to go clothes shopping. Floyd, who had previously looked bored out of his mind, suddenly shot up and volunteered himself. And since none of the others protested, the rest was history.

"Why not?" The corners of Yuu's lips twitched as they buttoned Floyd's vest.

Yuu supposed that they had a bit of a mischievous streak when it came to their own maids. Especially with Floyd Leech. It wasn't often that they had something to tease the maid with.

Floyd grabbed their hand, stopping them in their tracks, "Aren't I supposed to dress you?" 

"I suppose," Yuu glanced up, his eyes boring into theirs. "But wouldn't you rather do something more interesting instead?"

Floyd seemed to switch tactics, "Can't I wear my normal uniform? These pants are too stuffy."

Yuu thought about it. About the way Floyd preferred loose skirts that fell just above his knees. Or the way his apron was always stained with something or another from running around all day. Wearing fitted pants probably felt strange in retrospect.

But they had to appreciate how Floyd looked from an aesthetic point of view. The pants all but accentuated his height, coupled with a fitted coat and vest. Floyd looked the spitting image of a young master rather than a maid. (They patted themself on the back for choosing such a perfect outfit.)

"Hmm, but you look handsome like this too," They smiled because Floyd was always weak when it came to compliments.

They knew they won the argument as soon as Floyd released a long sigh "If Master says so~"

"Besides, we aren't trying to attract attention. If it weren't for the ball..."

Floyd grinned then, "Don'tcha worry, all I gotta do is get you lookin' the best at the ball, right Master?"

Turned out that Floyd was quite picky when it came to clothing. Maybe that was why Jade seemed quite apologetic as he was sending them off. What they thought would be a simple shopping trip turned out to be a quest for "only the best that fit Master," as Floyd put it.

"This material...isn't it on the cheaper side?"

Or, "Nah, this color doesn't match your eyes."

Or, their personal favorite, "Master, you're rich, so shouldn't you get a bigger rock?"

Yuu would’ve laughed at all of Floyd’s comments if it wasn’t considered rude to the store owners. The good thing was that Floyd had basically done the hard part for them. He had chosen a suitable outfit on their behalf, swathing them in Night Raven grey, adorned with gold trimmings. And then there were the boots made out of leather from a foreign land. Yuu probably would've chosen without worrying too much about quality if it weren't for Floyd, but he seemed determined to watch over their purchases like a hawk. 

Their feet were getting a bit tired, but Yuu couldn't bring themself to say no when Floyd entered another store.

"This time we'll find a good brooch," Floyd said as he opened the door, letting them into the store. "Something bi~g and shiny so that those garbage minnows won't look down on you."

"I'm sure I don't need it," They reassured.

Yuu knew why Floyd was worried. There were plenty of unsavory rumors going around about them, after all. It had been happening for a long time, ever since they attended NRC. 'The young heir is socially inept', or 'A mere teen cannot inherit the Night Raven Duchy, much less an orphan!', or even their least favorite rumor, 'The loyalty of their staff is due to their status.' It didn't matter much to them anyway. By the end of their Debutante, they would make sure that no one would be able to run their mouths about the Duchy or their people.

"Welcome, customers!" The salesman greeted cheerily. "Please have a seat." They both took a seat, and soon the scent of tea leaves seemed to fill the room as they waited. Floyd was already eyeing the display cases, eyes calculating. 

The store owner poured them each a cup of tea. His eyes glanced between the two of them before finally landing on Floyd, “What would you like to see, good sir?”

Ah. It seemed that this store owner had mistaken them to be a servant, and Floyd their master. It made sense, given the more simplistic clothing they decided to use if only to disguise their shopping trip. Floyd expression had dropped. They could feel the anger starting to radiate from the maid.

“Hey,” There was a cold expression on Floyd’s face. “Don’t look down on my Master like that.” Oh Sevens.

They tugged at his sleeve, before whispering, “Floyd, don’t—" 

“Master?” The owner glanced at them for a moment, not even noticing that he interrupted them. “Are you sure?”

And that seemed to be the final straw for Floyd.

He slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang and Yuu's heart felt like it stopped in their chest. Horror dawned on them as they watched the table shake, the tea set wobbling before shattering with a spectacular sound. CRASH! Hot tea spilled all over the surface of the table, splashing Floyd's arm.

“Floyd!" They hurriedly grabbed his arm, jerking it from the steaming puddle of tea.

Floyd continued to glare at the man, “It seems there’s a minnow who doesn’t know his place.”

They injected as much authority as they could into their voice, “Floyd Leech, I want you to calm down. This behavior is far from appropriate.” They watched as Floyd’s shoulders tensed, conflict passing his expression. The store owner didn’t dare to move either, face frozen in shock.

An eternity seemed to pass before Floyd released a harsh breath, “As your benevolence wishes, Master.” A frustrated expression crossed Floyd’s face before he was turning toward them, sinking to the ground. His forehead pressed against their knee, and Yuu fought not to comfort Floyd for a second.

Instead, they looked up. Yuu stared at the spilled tea with disdain, “Well? Clean up the mess. I'll compensate for the broken tea set.” 

“Y-Yes, of course,” The man seemed to sweat even more as he bowed. “And...may I know your name?” The nerve of him to ask after all that.

“Your ignorance astounds me. Most know me as the heir to the Night Raven Duchy.” And the owner turned white as a sheet. Good. That should teach him not to forget their face ever again. As the man stumbled out, they turned their attention to Floyd.

Yuu finally let their hand card into Floyd’s hair, “Floyd. You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘M not,” His voice was muffled, and they could feel him press his cheek against their knee. “Are you mad at me?”

They let out a light laugh, brushing the hair out of Floyd’s eyes. He was staring right at them now. “I’m not. I understand why you were offended. Now he’ll never forget my face for as long as he lives.” Floyd had a bleeding heart when it came to those that challenged their status, more than any of their other maids. And that big of a blunder coupled with the fact that the debutante was soon… It was no wonder Floyd had snapped.

"But Master..." Floyd was pouting now. "You don't hafta compensate him."

"I have to compensate him for the damageds. But the Night Raven Duchy will never give him another penny ever again," Yuu held up their palm. "Now show me your hand.”

Floyd obediently lifted his arm, which was all but soaked in tea, “It doesn’t hurt.” The skin was reddened slightly, and they frowned, wishing that they had intervened quicker.

“Still, we should have the doctor take a look later. And you should get changed,” Yuu traced over the wetness of his sleeve. “I…have your uniform. It's in our carriage, down the block.”

Floyd’s head shot up, eyes glittering, “Really?”

They nodded, sheepishly, “If you really were uncomfortable in those clothes, I wasn’t going to force you to keep wearing it for the whole— Woah—“ Floyd stood up, leaving the store before they could finish their sentence.

The owner finally returned. They wondered if he timed it so that Floyd would leave before he entered. They glanced at him, “Do you happen to have a fitting room here?”

“E-Excuse me? This is a jewelry store, but we—“ The door opened almost violently as Floyd walked back in, expression dangerously dark once more. They tapped a finger against their arm. The owner coughed, “W-We have an empty storage room at the back, p-please go ahead, your grace.”

“Thank you,” Yuu brushed off their clothes before offering a hand to Floyd. “Shall we?” Floyd seemed happy to lead them to the back, and more than happy to change back into his normal attire.

Yuu chuckled at the sight of the lopsided headband and the carelessly tied apron. Riddle and Jamil would have a heart attack if they saw what Floyd looked like as he exited the store.

Floyd stretching ahead of them, “Kinda wish I could've beaten him up a little~”

"Floyd Leech, that is unacceptable," They said with mock seriousness, as Floyd laughed cheerily.

And watching Floyd skipping down the streets, pointing to another store up ahead, well... They couldn't say no.

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

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[sarahs-secrets2]

Gotcha! ˋ♡ˊ

leon kennedy x reader! (any leon you desire!!)

maybe laser tag wasn't the best idea for a date night...

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

ZAP!  The plastic light-up vest illuminated a bright blue, vibrating slightly. You had been hit. 

“Gotta be quicker next time.” Well aware you were on a thirty-second cool down after being shot, Leon chuckled walking out from behind a wall. He held the laser gun like it was real, never letting his guard down. “Remember this date was your idea,” Leon laughed as he jogged off into a new hiding spot. 

Defeat was putting how you felt, lightly. You thought a laser tag date would be cute, something fun to get you both out of the house. Wrong. Seemingly you had completely forgotten that; 1) Your boyfriend was professionally trained in combat and how to use a firearm, which both skills had seamlessly transferred to laser tag, and 2) how competitive he got. 

“Leon,” your voice echoed through the dark maze-like room. You were ready to wave the white flag, get some ice cream, go home, and maybe even watch a movie. Laser tag had been fun for all of five minutes before Leon started treating it like one of his missions. “Leon, I’m ready to go home,” still no answer. Glancing at the mini screen on the plastic gun the neon green writing flashed back your stats, Rank 2 out of 2. Who would've guessed?

With Leon still hiding, you began to wander around hoping to find him before he found you (or before the match ended). Having nothing to lose at this point, you decided to get some high ground and walked up the ramp to the second level. Still no sign of Leon. This place wasn't even that big yet he still managed to be undetectable. 

Walking over to the edge, you peered over the wall trying to see if Leon was even in the building anymore. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to spot him amidst the random colored lights and abundance of corners to hide in. Finally, there he was. Leon was running and leaning up against walls, surveying the area, and then running to a different wall as he tried to find you. Stifling a giggle, you crouched down so he wouldn't spot you. Balancing the laser gun on the ledge, holding your breath as you aimed, and crossing your fingers, you pulled the trigger.

ZAP! Leon’s vest illuminated bright red.

“Gotcha!” You shouted from the second floor, jumping out and down from excitement. Leon looked dumbfounded, how did you even get up there without him noticing? You made your way back down to the main floor where Leon stood still trying to figure out the logistics of how you got him. “Guess you just have to be quicker next time babe,” repeating his words back to him you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

Right on cue, the lights flickered on and the crackly loudspeaker directed you to the exits. Leon threw his arm around your shoulders pulling you close as the two of you walked out together, “Maybe I need to take some pointers from you next time,” he smiled. Your head nuzzled into his chest, feeling very accomplished despite your screen still reading, Rank 2 out of 2.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

[jumbojazzcats93]

COTTON MOUTH - GHOST

Summary - Ghost discovers something about himself

Warnings/Tags - MDNI, Blood kink, blood, mentions of sex, violence, injuries, Header by @/loganliqueurdrag on TikTok, banner by @/saradika, @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @gremlingottoosilly @lordlydragon @grizzersmamma @ivymarquis @quietlyignoringyou

Nerves were frayed. This operation was taking way too damn long. These might've been the most elusive terrorists the squad had dealt with, and as it turned out, the reason for that was because they were already dead. A bigger fish had come along and taken a bite, if you will.

Upon finding the dead group of men there was silence.....

Silence and then - "FUCK", followed by a slam.

Ghost whipped around at the sound to find Soap and Gaz huffing and grumbling in frustration, rubbing their faces and eyes, shaking their heads. Price was relaying the details of the carnage over comms with closed eyes and a tired expression. And y/n... had removed and thrown her Kevlar helmet across the room; crouching down with a groan that bordered on a scream and covering her face with her hands. "Two months!", she shouted holding up 2 fingers and looking up. Ghost persed his lips behind the mask as he looked down at her. "Two months of running around this dry-ass, sandy-ass country. Bouncing from base to base and camping out on black ops only fo-" "Right, then." He cut in. "Tha's quite enough whinging." He scooped up Y/N's Kevlar and grabbed her by the vest straps standing her up. "Gotta pull gaurd until the extraction crew gets here." He held her helmet out for her until she took it, "Le's head up front, than yeah?", and strolled to the previous room.

Hours had passed. The extraction crew had been delayed, saying something about how the wind was too strong for flying. Apparently, this mission was cursed down to the last detail because 5 hours into the wait, Arabic whispered through the walls of the building. Tension flooded the room. The hope that, whoever these people were, they would just pass and keep on moving was a shared one, but after almost 15 minutes, that hope was buried in the sand as a knife ripped into the door in an attempt to somehow work it open. 15 more minutes after that saw the bodies of their "bigger fish" laying among their target terrorist group.

Sighs and heavy breaths filled the small building in the aftermath of the fight. Ghost looked over his team. Nothing more than a few cuts and bruises was a relief. Perimeter checks began once again as Price radioed in to Laswel to report the state of events. He found y/n carefully feeling at a knife wound. A shallow, clean cut down her bottom lip and chin. She licked her cut lip, Ghost watching as she looked him in the eyes and collected the blood in her mouth, spitting it out onto the sand. His stomach tightened and he wondered if he had hit his head because something was deeply wrong with him for the arousal that wracked his body. Traces of blood stained her mouth and as she grinned at Gaz over some sarcastic joke, his stomach tightened again... along with his tactical pants.

The sight of her grinning and spitting blood was doing something for him in ways he knew was so demented. He imagined her naked and on her knees with his blood in her mouth, on her lips as she teased his cock with her tongue; a bloody bite mark on his thigh the source. He turned away.The image of her licking blood from her lips was going to taint his mind for a long time.

[kittyball23]

Any chance of a quick fic of Branch's bros showing and telling Poppy Branch's embarrassing baby photos all while he's a embarrassed grumpy pants about it? I feel we need more embarrassing loving big brothers moments.

Hi, Anon, I apologize for this being delayed. I wrote out a few drafts to this story, but was unsatisfied with the turnout until now. I do hope you enjoy :)

Show and Tell (a Trolls fanfic)

By the time that Branch had gotten his drink at the bar - a concoction his older brother called the Tropical Refresh, composed of a variety of fresh, fruity juices  - and walked over to the backstage area of the karaoke stage to find Poppy, he could already hear the bouts of giggling coming from his girlfriend. Branch had come across this type of situation a few times already, and he didn’t need to ask what had gotten her in such a lighthearted mood.

“Don’t you ever get tired of looking at that?” he asked, gesturing at the clue board that she was unashamedly ogling over.

“Nope!” Poppy chirped. “How can you ever get tired of looking at this cutie-patootie face, huh?” She reached into her pocket and showed him a little wallet-size photograph of him in his signature perm.

Branch gasped. “Hey! Who gave you that?”

“I did!” The blue Troll turned to find John Dory approaching them, looking quite proud of himself. “Don’t worry bro, I got copies for you, too!” he said, pulling out three more from his dark, aquamarine hair.

Branch groaned. “Seriously?”

“What do you mean ‘seriously’? What’s so embarrassing about a baby photo? You totally rocked the look!” JD asked, confused. Then he chuckled, nudging Branch with his elbow and speaking hushedly so Poppy couldn’t hear. “At least I didn’t show her the other box, right?”

But Poppy had heard him. She perked up and faced John Dory with curiosity. “What other box?”

JD beamed at her. “Ohoho, girl, if you like these photos, just wait till you see what I got in store for you.” Whistling Rhonda over, he entered his caterbus and pulled out a heavy-looking trunk. He struggled dragging it out for a moment, and then gave a short cry.

“Ouch! There goes my back,” he whined with a grimace, having strained himself too hard and rubbing the affected area. But the smile returned to his face a moment later. “Feast your eyes on le pièce de résistance, Poppy Seed!” he declared grandly, and then opened the trunk with a dramatic flair.

For a second light almost seemed to emit from the trunk, like it had been filled with glittering gold. When Poppy managed to focus in and see what it actually was, well, it was as good as gold to her.

“EEEE! Oh my GOSH!!” She grabbed Branch’s arm and leapt up and down with tears of joy while her boyfriend grumbled in dismay. “This is the best day of my life!”

“OOooo, really! Why’s that?” It had been Viva who’d spoken, neither one of them having heard her approaching with all the commotion Poppy was making. She noticed the trunk and grinned. “Is there a lifetime supply of candy in there? I know that would be the best day of my life!”

“Even better!” Poppy cried, stepping aside so her sister could see. Viva tucked her hands under her chin and gushed.

“Awwww…. That’s so sweet!”

Suddenly Poppy whirled on John Dory, grabbing him by the vest and shaking him hard. “John Dory! And just how long were you going to wait before you told me about this?!?!”

“You gotta ask to receive!” JD answered simply.

“Well, I guess,” Poppy grumbled, “Okay, but no more dillydallying, you have GOT to spill everything to me about these!”

But to her surprise, John Dory shook his head. “No can do, Miss Poppy…”

The Pop Queen’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

While also surprised to hear this answer come from his brother, Branch was actually relieved. “Oh, good.” The less embarrassment he had to endure in front of his girlfriend, the better!

But it seemed JD wasn’t done explaining. “...Not without the others to help,” he finished with a sly smile.

Now it was Branch’s turn to exclaim “What?”

And before he could stop him, John Dory had cupped his hands around his mouth and called out in the direction of the cantina. “YO, BRUCE! CLAY! FLOYD! GET YOUR BUTTS OVER HERE, PRONTO!”

A few seconds later, all three Trolls had hightailed their way over.

“What’s up John Dory?” Floyd asked.

“Why you sounding like there’s a big emergency or something?” Clay questioned with suspicion, knowing how JD had a tendency to overexaggerate matters.

“And why does Poppy look like she’s about to faint?” Bruce asked, pointing at the overwhelmed Pop Queen who was being held up by Viva and fanned.

John Dory presented the trunk to the three of them. “Does this answer your question?”

Three identical ear-to-ear smiles stretched across their faces.

“Awwww, that’s nice,” Clay cooed.

“Wow,” Floyd whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, “I really had thought these were all gone…”

“Well they’re not!” Bruce chuckled happily. “This is great!”

“You’re telling me,” Poppy mumbled, just about ready to collapse. “And speaking of telling me…” She gestured at the trunk meaningfully.

But Branch intervened, putting a hand up. “Now wait, wait a second, hold on. Must we do this?”

John Dory rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Alright, those who aren’t in favor, raise your hands,” he said, putting the decision up to vote.

As it turned out, Branch was the only one among the seven who followed through on that.

“‘Kay. Now, all in favor of sharing Branch’s totally brodacious and all-around awesome Bitty-B-baby photographs, put ‘em up!”

Six hands flew up into the air without hesitation.

Branch rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“YAY!” Poppy cheered, clapping her hands with Viva and giving her boyfriend a great big hug in gratitude.

John Dory grinned as he reached into the trunk - full to the brim with Branch-centered memorabilia, cut-outs, magazine-clippings, and pictures - and pulled out the first item to share. Poppy squealed as he began to explain.

“Hehehe, this one” - he started, gesturing at a photograph of Baby Branch suspended on a glitter wire - “was when we were deciding how Branch was gonna make his first live appearance. We thought about having him lower down onto the stage from above, but, hehehe, he was kinda afraid of heights.”

“I was a baby, John Dory. Everything around me looked big! So… yeah,” Branch said in his defense, crossing his arms.

Bruce had a turn picking next, and gave a knowing “Ohhh,” when he saw what it was. “Debut outfit idea that, of course, didn’t work because of, well… the obvious.” When he showed the photo, it was Baby Branch with his head barely peeking out of the top of a puffy blue vest, BroZone’s signature white slacks on his bottom and trailing behind him like a gown’s train.

“I wasn’t the same size as you all back then,” Branch said with a tone in his voice that exhibited a “duh!”

“Aw, but at least you’ll fit in it now, right, sweetie?” Poppy cooed lovingly to him.

He had to smirk at his girlfriend’s neverending optimism. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Clay laughed when he pulled out the next photograph. “Ohhh, man… Grandma’s birthday,” he said fondly. “Each of us had a hand in getting together her special Fluffleberry cake. Bruce and I made the batter. John Dory and Floyd took care of the baking. And Branch, hehehe… he helped decorate. Although, I think he might’ve ended up decorating himself more than the cake.” He turned the photo around so the others could see the little blue Troll baby covered from head to toe in colorful icing and sprinkles.

“It was my first time!” Branch wailed. “And believe me, I had icing in places I didn’t even know I had.” He shuddered to remember. “It was unpleasant.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we took you to the bath right after,” Floyd said with a little grin. The grin became wider when he pulled out the next photo. “Oh my, and speaking of baths… can’t forget your first shower, can we?”

Branch’s cheeks turned red from embarrassment when the baby photo depicted him pictured from behind, the soap bubbles barely hiding his birthday suit.

“Whoaho!” JD cracked up., “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday!”

“I guess you could say it happens only once in a blue moon, am I right?” Clay joked, Bruce laughing alongside him.

“OH!” Poppy squeaked in surprise, blushing, while Viva gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

“This just goes to showcase a whole new meaning to ‘junk in the trunk!’” Branch humphed with whatever dignity he had left, referring to John Dory’s trunk of memorabilia. Although, his older brother didn’t interpret the statement that way.

“I’ll say!” he hollered, stooping down to slap Branch in the rear.

“OUCH! JD!”

The goggled Troll giggled in response to his shout.

Branch huffed and plopped down to the ground, both as a way to ensure that John Dory wouldn’t do that again and as a way to make himself comfortable. Because - as the elder Troll took his turn sifting through the trunk for another good photograph and story attached to it, and his brothers eagerly awaited their next turns, and his girlfriend sat there nearly panting in anticipation - Branch realized that he would be there for quite some time.

Yep. A nice loooong time.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 25 -  Opening gifts

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,674 | rated: T

hello again friends! this one is late (again, i'm sorry 😭) but here's the next part for day 25!! I had a great holiday and i hope you all did too!!

The whirlwind of the next couple days surprises him; after dinner on the 21st, there was a whole two days where he didn’t see Steve at all.

He was out of town on the 22nd alltogether for what Robin called “The Harrington Fake As Fuck Holiday Tour”, off seeing his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, and the 23rd is when Wayne’s plant had their Christmas potluck. 

He may not have liked the holiday season all that much in the years before this, but who is he to turn down a full day of food?

It was on the way home from said potluck that Eddie realized. 

“Oh fuck..”

“Hm?” Wayne hums from the driver’s seat.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck! I don’t have a present for him!” Eddie whips his head around to gape at the side of his uncle’s face, “Wayne, I don’t have a present for Steve!”

Wayne huffs out a breath, a low “Goddammit, boy.” coming out with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sounds like you’re goin’ shoppin’ tomorrow, Ed.” he’s still shaking his head.

“I don’t have the cash for that, what am I supposed to do? What do you get your brand new boyfriend for Christmas?” Eddie pauses. “Wait, are we boyfriends?”

“Y’do know you two were friends before you were maybe boyfriends, right?” Wayne says, “What were ya gonna give him?”

“I was going to make him a battle jacket–but that’s not nearly good enough, Wayne! He only wore mine that one time! What was I thinking, he doesn’t wear vests, he needs something better, I need more cash, he needs something-–”

“Calm down Eds, take a breath.” Wayne takes a hand off the wheel to clasp a hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “Steve will appreciate literally anything you give him, he even liked it when you kissed him,”

“Shut up,”

“And you may be right,” Wayne shrugs, taking his hand off Eddie’s shoulder to do so, “He might not be a vest kinda guy, but what if ya, now hear me out on this, leave the sleeves on the damn thing?”

Eddie turns to blink stupidly at his uncle, now gazing at him as if over a pair of invisible glasses.

They both burst out laughing, “Okay, okay, I’ll still make him the jacket…though I don’t know if I have enough patches.”

Wayne only scoffs at him, turning his attention back to the road when the light turns green, “That’s a damn lie and you know it.”

“I don’t!” “You have a whole fuckin’ shoebox of ‘em in that closet of yours! You dump it out every time you add something to your own vest.”

“Let me rephrase: I don’t have enough Steve patches.”

“The hell is a Steve Patch?”

A Steve Patch, as Wayne soon finds out, is one of any number of patches Eddie may get his grubby paws on that isn’t something to do with one of the bands he listens to, or something to do with that game he likes.

“It’s gotta be things he likes, right?”

“Sure,” Wayne nods from his recliner, not bothering to look up from his paper at the pile of patches and miscellaneous bobbins of thread that his nephew has dumped all over their coffee table. “Or you can add a few that’ll remind him of you and take him to get more’a his own later. Make a day of it.”

His silence makes Wayne look up. Eddie’s gaping at him.

“What?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”

“Hmph,” he says, and goes back to reading.

Eddie’s hushed ‘Ow!’s and ‘Fuck!’s mingle with the low radio playing through the rest of their evening.

Steve’s old-new jacket was thrifted a couple months ago now, the denim only a couple shades darker than the denim of his own vest, and Eddie’d immediately brought it home and told Wayne of his plan.

His uncle had called him on his intentions almost as quick, saying “He must be pretty special, huh?” 

So Eddie worked through the night, moving into his own room come about three on the morning of the 24th to let Wayne sleep in peace. In the end, he only had four patches to add to the jacket: an Ozzy patch for Steve’s similar bat chomping prowess, one of the KISS logo since Steve had really taken to a few of their songs, a D20 for him and the rest of the party, and a scruffy-looking BMW patch he’d found at the same time he’d found the jacket; but the longer part of his work was the painstakingly embroidering a scattering of bats up the left arm of the jacket, and the best copy of Steve’s spiked nailbat he could manage along the backside of the right forearm, putting the spiked end close to the end of the sleeve.

He packed it up carefully, in a box that previously held kindling (old notes leftover from school), wrapping it up with a couple sheets of the last months’ Funnies, and laid down to catch at least a couple hours.

-x-

A few hours later, Eddie finds himself on the Harringtons’ front steps.

Steve should be back by now, of course, and the rest of the party he knows will be at home with the rest of their families. It is Christmas Eve, of course.

He hoped to just drop by to give Steve his gift, but he secretly hoped Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would continue to be America’s Greatest Parents and make themselves scarce for the fifth year in a row.

Aw fuck, that’s a shitty thing to think, hoping that his boyfrien—best frien—frien— Steve’s parents would be gone so Steve would have time for him?

How did Steve find it in him to like Christmas so damn much if his parents were always gone? Was Robin even telling the truth? Have they really been gone each of the past four?

Eddie’s almost-panicked contemplation is interrupted when Steve opens the door.

“Eds, hi! What are yo—”

“How do you like Christmas so much?”

“Uh..what?”

Damn it Eddie, this is not the time for this. “Nevermind, nevermind, hey Stevie; can I come in?”

“Yeah, o’course.” He steps out of the way of the door and closes the door behind Eddie when he enters. “What brings you by? Not doing anything with Wayne?”

“He’s working tonight, so our only plans are cinnamon rolls for breakfast in the morning.” he shrugs.

Steve nods, “So what’ve you got there, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s heart swoops at the name, “I uh, got you something.”

“You did?” His face looks incredibly fond.

“Yeah, so you better have gotten me something too, big boy.” Eddie huffs, wrestling with the laces on his boots “I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get these off.”

Suddenly, Steve’s down on one knee in front of him and reaching for his leg. “Give it here before you fall over.”

Steve hooks one hand around the back of his heel, and the other makes quick work of the fraying laces. Eddie quite likes to think he was holding it together just fine, thank you, until Steve’s hand moves from his laces to the back of his knee.

Eddie’s face flushes fast, and his boot is off in the next second.

Who the fuck has a knee-pit thing?

Steve sets down that leg and carefully lifts the other for the same treatment.

Okay, maybe it’s just a ‘Steve is touching a part of me that literally no one else ever has before’ thing, but still.

All in all, it was maybe a whole 30 seconds that Steve was knelt down in front of him, but it felt like it was an instant and like it was hours at the same time.

“There ya go” Steve grins, standing again, “Can I open my present now?”

“Be my guest, sunshine.” he passes Steve the box very cool-like and not at all still flustered with his voice still pitched high, thank you very much.

Steve starts in on Garfield, stolling into the living room and leaving a trail of shredded paper in his wake.

“Ooh, a box, thanks Eds.” Steve smirks, sinking onto the end of the couch closest to the tree.

“Ha ha ha.” Eddie deadpans in return, shoving his hands into his pockets and wanting desperately to look away from Steve’s possible reaction; but he can’t. He’s nearly vibrating in anticipation.

He finally tears through the flimsy scotch tape holding the top flaps together and opens it. 

Steve’s eyes jump to Eddie’s immediately, his jaw dropping.

“Is this–” he looks back down at it, pulls the jacket out and free of the box as he stands back up to hold it out in front of him.

Eddie’s face feels like it’s on fire, like his innards are stretched and twisted like the world’s most complicated pretzel.

Steve’s eyes are on him again, “You made me a battle jacket?”

All Eddie could do was nod, his throat clenched tight.

His heart was thrust somewhere into the aforementioned gut-pretzel when Steve slipped the jacket over his shoulders. 

Why he thought he could see it better while it was on him is knowledge lost to Eddie, but he tries his damndest to twist around to see the BMW and KISS patches on his right side. He seemed to notice the threads covering his arms when trying to pull the left hem of the jacket around to admire the Ozzy and D20 patches there.

“Eddie, did you—” Steve looks up at him in wonder

“Mm hmm,” he nods, then has to yank his hands out of his pockets as quickly as he can, wrapping his palms over careful stitches in denim when Steve takes two long strides to pull Eddie to him.

Now, up until the exact moment Steve’s lips were on his, Eddie could be convinced that what happened on Steve’s back patio a couple days ago was just a fluke; a daydream maybe, possibly a nightmare meant to torture him and he really had died back in March.

But he didn’t.

He was here. Being kissed by his boyfriend. For a present he’d given him for Christmas.

Holy shit..

“Eddie..” Steve breathes his name like a prayer and Eddie’s stomach swoops in response. “You are amazing, d’y’know that?”

Eddie hums into another kiss, his head is swimming, “Hmmm..no. Tell me again.” he teases.

Steve huffs a laugh, “You are amazing, Eddie Munson, you stitched this with your own two hands just for me?”

“It’s only four patches.” he noses forward to connect their lips again, but is held at bay. He opens his eyes to Steve’s own boring into him.

“It’s only nothing, Eds. Do you see this?!” Steve lifts his arm between them, the right one with the nail bat, “And this?” he says, re-placing his hand on Eddie’s cheek to lift his left into view instead, the arm with the bats. “You did that yourself, by hand. You are so fucking talented, Eddie. I love y--it. I love it. Thank you.”

Eddie’s finally rewarded with another kiss for having to suffer through that praise.

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

Steve pulls back again, searching his face with those striking hazel eyes of his. His expression steels. “Damn you, Munson.” he practically hisses, letting Eddie go completely.

“Aw what?” he jokes over the stabbing pain in his gut, “First I’m amazing and now—”

“Oh shush,” Steve chides him, crouching down to search the lowest branches of his tree. 

“We really need to find you a back patch for that thing.” he mumbles while Steve continues his search. 

“Ah ha! Got it!” Steve stands and rushes back to him, “Here, open it.”

A simple white envelope is pressed into his hand.

“Look, Steve I really appreciate the thought,” Eddie starts, flipping open the top flap open, “But I’ve got a job you kno—”

His joking is cut off when he feels the thick cardstock finally drop into his palm from the upturned envelope.

Eddie looks down at it.

There’s two of them. General admission, for just a couple months from now.

Eddie’s not new to this, he’s been following the bits of news he could of his favorite bands’ tours and Iron Maiden is in what, Italy right now? He knew they were coming closer again soon but must not have been watching close enough.. He didn’t even realize these had gone on sale yet.

“Steve, these are–”

“Not as cool as Metallica or Ozzy, I know, but neither are coming by anywhere close anytime soon, and I knew you liked these guys too, the skull guy? Whatever, point is, I picked them up a couple weeks ago when me and Rob went up to Indy last and I thought maybe you and Wayne could go, or you and Jeff maybe—”

Eddie had stared, transfixed, while Steve went on his little tirade, pacing back and forth, but hold on..

“Hold on, Steve, stop.”

He does, looking nervous.

“Steve, sweetheart, first of all: thank you. This is amazing, perfect even! Second,” he drops the envelope onto the coffee table and runs his hands up and down Steve’s arms soothingly, “What in the world makes you think Wayne would want to come with me?”

It works, and Steve huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes at him.

“You know what I meant, dickhead.”

“I know, sweetheart, but there’s only one person I’d want to come with me.”

Steve’s lips twitch, “I dunno Eds, I’m pretty cool with Claudia, but I don’t think even I could convince her to let her precious Dusty Buns go with you.”

Eddie smirks at him, letting his arms go “Now who’s being a dickhead.”

Steve smiles back, then his face falters, “You sure you like them? I can always get them exchanged or give them to someo—”

“You better fuckin’ not,” Eddie says, snatching the envelope back up and clutching it close to his chest, “My boyfriend got me these tickets, you cur.”

He expected Steve to latch on to that one, say something like “What–What’d you just call me?”, or “Cur? Who are you, Shakespeare?”, hell, even something as simple as “..Gross.”, but nothing comes.

He’s just…staring at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“...Boyfriend?”

Oh shit.

“Um..” Eddie gulps loudly, “Y-yeah, that okay?”

Steve’s hands are cupped around his face not a second later, and his lips on Eddie’s another moment later.

He’s lost to the feeling instantly, there’s nothing but SteveSteveSteve running through his head, wading through his soupy brains to reach all corners.

Steve licks into his mouth and Eddie melts to his front, arms wrapping around his boyfriend.

Eventually, Steve pulls back enough to murmur, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, Eddie.”

Eddie kisses him again, nothing pushy, no expectations, only the weird sense of gratefulness he has for Steve accepting his new title.

Steve hums in satisfaction when Eddie finally does let him go and gives him a last quick peck on the nose, which Steve pushes him off for with a smile.

“So whattya wanna do tonight, sweetheart? You got any good movies around here?” Eddie says, turning to squat down in front of Steve and Robin’s pile of favorite tapes next to the TV.

“Well, you know…”

“..I know?” Eddie encourages, picking up a copy of Rocky Horror in one hand and Rocky in the other.

“There are some things I haven’t done with a boyfriend before..”

“Uh, yeah, I’d hope not Stevie.” Eddie scoffs as Steve starts to move, heading out the room, “You’ve never had one before.”

“Exactly.” He rounds the corner out the door.

Eddie assumes he’s heading to the kitchen for snacks, but drops both tapes when he hears the bottom step creak.

Oh.

You’re just a whole-ass idiot, aren’t you Munson?

“You comin’ Eds?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant and on the steps behind Steve before he’s even done talking. “Holy shit, uh..yes, yep, yeah the fuck I am, Jesus H. Christ.”

oooohh i think the fic rating is about to go up 👀

some notes:

i based the ticket text off this image from a Bon Jovi show a week before iron Maiden's scheduled show (i couldn't find a pic of the IM show ticket, and i'm not sure if it also started at 7:30)

$14.50 in November 1986 dollars would $40.33 in November 2023 dollars!

the show date is an actual date i got from Iron Maiden's website! and eddie was right, last he may have heard, they would've likely played their last shows in Italy before the holiday in '86.

i am not the first or last person to give steve a jacket with patches and i just know he's gonna have fun finding more pins and patches for it with both robin and eddie <3

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) [YOU ARE HERE] also on AO3! this year

[softhairedhotch]

i stopped writing for a lil sorry y'all i got burnt out lol so here's this fic a few days late comfortember day nine: aftermath

aaron hotchner x male reader you and aaron pretend to be husbands to catch an unsub. word count: 3.1k content/warnings: fake dating, kissing, mentions of violence/weapons, pre-relationship, feeeelings comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3!

the waiter

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Aaron asks, tugging on the fancy blazer Dave had lent him. “We don’t have to do this, remember, there are other options.”

“Oh, yeah?” You reply, adjusting your tie. “And what would those be?”

“We can send Morgan and Reid in. Dave and Morgan? Reid and D–"

“Jesus. Are you sure you want to do this? Seems like you’re tryna find a way out, Hotch.”

He pauses and tilts his head at you. “I never said that. It’s just…”

“Just…?”

But before he can reply, Dave is knocking on the door and walking inside without waiting for a response. “You guys ready? The reservation is in 20 minutes and I know they’d prefer it if you were 5 minutes early.”

“We’re ready, yeah.”

“And I don’t have to remind you two how important it is to stay in character, do I? Pretend to be rich, pretend to be in love, pretend you’re celebrating your wedding anniversary, and everything should go according to plan.”

“Yes, sir!” You say sarcastically, saluting at Dave and laughing when he rolls his eyes. “You gotta trust us, we can do this.”

“Yeah, Dave, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

Dave nods with a smirk. “Sure it will.”

Aaron turns to you. "We can pretend to be in love, right?" 

"Right," you say, breath catching in your throat as you silently pray it’s not clear how much those words affect you. "'Course." 

You both miss the amused look Dave sends you.

Once you’re both dressed to perfection, Derek gives you your earpieces and sends you on your way to the restaurant. As you walk inside, Aaron’s large hand in yours, you keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. You feel out of place as you look around the lavish area, noting how the interior design is made mostly of red and gold to appear more inviting. A few people look at you as you pass by, offering you polite smiles which you return casually. Everyone is a suspect to you and you can’t help but feel on edge.

A sweet woman walks you to the table and Aaron pulls out your chair for you, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple as you smile and take the seat. It makes your stomach tighten and the woman giggles sweetly at the gesture before telling you the waiter will be with you shortly and leaving to greet another couple at the door. Aaron smiles and takes his seat across from you, looking as if he’s about to reach out for you but hesitating. It’s silent for a few moments before you laugh and stand up, moving your chair around the table to sit beside him. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, grinning; you can’t tell if it’s fake or not. “What are you doing?”

“Playing the part,” you reply with your own grin, resting your hand on his arm in a loving gesture. “Can’t exactly speak through subjects across a table when anyone can hear, can we?” A waiter smoothly walks by carrying a few trays and you squeeze Aaron’s wrist. “Shall we order wine too?”

“Of course, love,” Aaron replies, “if that’s what you want.”

Tonight’s going to be much harder than you thought.

After your far-too-expensive food and drinks get to the table, Aaron smiles at you, eyes bright and genuine, and your stomach twists. It feels real… too real. As you stare at him back with just as much love, mind going into overdrive, you catch sight of a man watching you from the back of the room with what can only be described as a sinister look. Before you can even think, you're leaning forward, pressing your lips against Aaron's cheek, and hearing his sharp inhale. "Man in red vest and blue shirt, twelve o'clock. Looks suspicious." 

You nuzzle your nose against Aaron's slightly as you wait for his response, feeling light-headed as the smell of him completely washes over you. "Right…" he breathes, looking completely dumbfounded for a moment before managing to regain his composure and putting on a casual smile, eyes still distant. His lips, to your surprise, find yours for a brief, chaste kiss. "I'll be right back."

He's standing up before you can say anything. This isn't part of the plan, you think to yourself, but there isn't much you can do other than sit politely and pick at your food as you wait for him to get back. 

Derek speaks over your earpiece, asking where Aaron's going as if you can answer, and you’re keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity when the waiter you pointed out before reaches your table. 

"Are you enjoying your food, sir?" He asks with a smile that doesn’t feel natural.

"Yes," you reply, smiling at him. "It's very good." 

"And is your…” he trails off, glancing down at your hand and smirking, “husband enjoying his food? I noticed he left; is something wrong?"

You feel a pit begin to grow in your gut as the man stares at you, confident and polite but with a dark glint in his eye. "No. He just went to the bathroom, he'll be back in a minute. Thank you for checking, though.”

“Of course, sir, I’ll leave you be.”

As he walks away, you keep an eye on him. He walks with a small limp, something that you had put in the profile a few days ago, and your heart hammers in your chest. “You think that’s him?” Derek asks over your earpiece. You pick up your fork with your left hand, a signal that tells him yes, you do, now get me outta here, and you hear him huff out a humourless laugh. “Okay, pretty boy. Just remain calm and enjoy the rest of your date with Hotch.”

“Rest of my–” you catch yourself saying before you can stop yourself, covering it up with a cough as someone glances at you.

“Mhm. You didn’t think we’d pull you out the moment we figured out who it was, did you? That’d be suspicious, man.” There’s a smirk obvious in his voice and he laughs. “Don’t have too much fun.”

And then it falls silent, Derek switching off his mic. You silently curse to yourself as Aaron takes a seat beside you. He gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I needed the bathroom until that moment.”

“Maybe you should slow down on the wine, yeah?”

His hand, already raising the almost empty glass of expensive wine to his lips, pauses and he gives you another sheepish smile. “Right. Yeah. Just…”

“Nervous?

Aaron blinks. “You could say that.” He picks up his fork and takes a small bite of food, looking awkward for another moment before his face completely changes and he gives you a smile, dimple and all, that has your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “This food’s really good.”

“That’s to be expected when the food’s this expensive.”

“That’s what you’d think but I once went to a gala that had these really expensive entrees that tasted… well, bad. And they gave me food poisoning for a week.”

“Really? Please tell me you took that week off from work.”

He grimaces. “I should have, but I didn’t. Wasn’t pleasant.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his wrist. “You need to start taking care of yourself.”

“I know,” he mutters. “That’s what I have you for though, isn’t it?” He takes your hand in his and you feel the blush spread across your neck and cheeks at the warmth of it. Someone brushes past behind you and out of the corner of your eye you can tell it’s the unsub. Aaron gives you a look to tell you to play along, although you realise it wouldn’t take much convincing to have you in a situation like this with him in the first place. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Me too. You mean a lot to me, and I’m so glad I met you that day at…” you trail off, knowing you can’t say what you actually mean, even when you want to mention how you met on a murder case that ended up being the reason for your recruitment at the BAU. “At that park. If your dog hadn’t run up to mine…”

“I know,” he grins, biting his lip to stifle it. The waiter still dawdles behind you, acting as if he’s clearing the empty table nearby. “I guess we’ll forever have to thank Hazel for putting us together, huh?” 

“And Piper,” you reply, running your hand over his and smiling at him. Your stomach tightens when he leans close and laughs a sweet laugh. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, though, sweetheart. We should eat our food before we start reminiscing on these past few years, hm?” 

“I guess you’re right,” he chuckles, moving back and leaving you suddenly cold. “I just like talking with you.”

“We’ll have many more years to talk in the future, honey.”

A soft laugh from behind you pulls you from the moment and you risk a glance to see the unsub walking away with a smirk on his face that makes your stomach churn. Instead of focusing on him, however, you turn back to your food and begin to eat, knowing that your team is there to keep watch.

After almost an hour of food, wine, small talk, laughter, and more wine, you and Aaron finally finish up with the date-not-date. You call for the bill and as you stand, Aaron trips over his feet and stumbles into you. Catching him in your arms easily, you can't help but laugh at him. 

"Don't laugh," he says, chuckling himself. "I'm just a little…" 

"Drunk?" 

He straightens up, placing one front in front of the other and immediately leaning back against you for support. "You could say that."

You smile at him, feeling your face flush at the closeness of his beside yours. Patting his firm chest twice, you begin to walk toward the doors. "Come on, honey, let's get you home, yeah?" 

"Mhm, wanna go home with you so bad." 

Your stomach drops at the 'admission'. As you tug him out of the door, thanking the man who holds it open for you, you can feel eyes on the back of your head. All the hairs on your neck and arms stand up and the familiar sense of danger curls deep in your stomach. Aaron follows your lead, arm slung lazily over your shoulder, rounding the corner with you. 

Once you're both out of sight of the restaurant and hidden away in an alleyway, Aaron pulls away from you and straightens up with ease. You feel cold at the loss of contact, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. 

"That went as well as it could have," Aaron says, suddenly sober and professional. "He should be coming after us anytime soon." 

"Right, yeah," you reply, before speaking into the mic attached to your shirt. "You got eyes on the unsub, Morgan?" 

"Seems he's making a sneaky escape out the back door," he replies, voice crackling over your earpiece. "He's heading your way now."

"Ready to win an oscar, Hotch?"

Aaron grimaces. "Don't." 

A smirk makes its way to your lips despite the dread pooling in your stomach. "You don't think this is gonna be fun?" 

Aaron pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around your waist. You gasp, looking up at him to see his eyes glued to your lips and he's flushed a pretty pink. "I never said that." 

"He's gonna be with you guys any second now," Derek says. “Get into position.”

Taking that as his cue, Aaron pushes you against the closest wall and leans in close, his lips hardly brushing yours. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest and all you want to do is close the gap but you can't. There's no need to kiss him when it looks like you already are from an outsider's perspective. But surely if you casually tilt your head as if to look over his shoulder and your lips happen to meet his… that'll be acceptable, right? It can be classed as a mistake, can't it? 

Before you can stop yourself, your lips are pressing against his and he's gasping into the kiss. Time seems to stretch on forever at that moment, your heart completely coming to a stop as your mind buzzes, and then he's pushing his mouth against yours in desperation. His lips are blindingly hot against yours and you feel like you might pass out then and there.

It's over the moment your heart starts beating again, Aaron pulling back and turning with his gun in hand and pointing it at the unsub all in one swift motion. Your own gun is in your hands due to pure instinct alone, pointing toward the man a few feet away with a terrifyingly large machete in hand. 

"FBI," Aaron says, voice sharp, "drop your weapon." 

"I wasn't gonna do anything, man," says the waiter, taking a few steps back in fear. "I was just…" 

You snort. "Taking your machete out for a walk?" 

Derek runs around the corner at that moment, the rest of the team following suit. They're quick to arrest the unsub, Emily carting him toward the cop car that rolls up beside the alleyway as Dave smirks at you and Aaron as if he knows something you don't. 

The next three hours are spent interviewing the waiter, confirming he's the serial killer, dealing with paperwork and press, and sending him to be locked away. It's a whirlwind of time that passes in what feels like seconds and soon enough you find yourself back at the hotel, unsure of what to do. 

You and the rest of the team are stuck in the state for the night and you feel restless. The night catches up to you and, despite being exhausted, you can't stop replaying every look and touch and word that you shared with Aaron. 

And the kiss. 

Fuck, the kiss. 

Feeling as though you should apologise, you're up and on your feet and out of your hotel room before you can think it through. You walk down the hallway, take a sharp left, and quickly find yourself nearing Aaron's hotel door. You raise your fist to knock but it's no use–the door is already opening and Aaron is standing there staring at you in surprise. 

"Hi," you say, feeling rather stupid. 

"Hello." 

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, unable to speak.

"We should talk, shouldn't we?" You finally supply. 

"Yes."

"Can I come in?" 

Aaron hesitates but only for a moment. "'Course." 

The moment the door closes behind the both of you and you're alone with him in the small room, you're suddenly aware of what could happen. Of what you want to happen. It makes you more nervous than you’d like to admit.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," you blurt out before you can chicken out. "That was… unprofessional." 

"It was," he replies bluntly. "Although I initiated it." 

"Well…" Yeah, you couldn't argue with that. "So… we good?" 

"Yeah," he breathes out, reaching out to shake your hand. "We are." 

You sigh in relief and take his hand in yours, smiling at him and thanking every star in the universe for not being put in his bad books. But as you shake his hand, feeling the warmth emanating from him, you're drawn closer and closer until you're standing so close you're sure your noses could brush against each other. 

"Hotch?" You ask, voice hardly a whisper.

"Hm?"

"Would it be stupid if we kissed again?" 

"Yes." 

"But we're going to, right?" 

"Yes." 

You press your lips against his immediately, feeling him melt against you as all tension dissipates from his body. His hands find your back, one sliding up and over your shoulder as the other rubs gentle circles over your shirt, and you wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss is soft and sweet but there's an underlying desperation to it, lighting your veins on fire. 

Aaron pulls back abruptly.  “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispers against your lips, large hands moving to hold your face close to his. He’s breathless, with a light blush on his cheeks, and his eyes are half-closed. “We… we shouldn’t.”

You press your lips against his again and he reciprocates immediately, pulling you back into him. “We should,” you say into the kiss. “What’s the harm?”

“I’m your boss. People will talk.”

“Then let them.”

"But–" 

"Aaron, if you try to make another excuse, I'll walk out and never bring this up again. I wanna kiss you, I don't wanna feel like you're not enjoying this as much as I am." 

That shuts him up immediately and his lips are back against yours with more ferocity and passion. His hands remain on your cheeks, holding you as if you might break.

"I've been wanting to do this forever," he mutters against your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. "Ever since I saw you take down Elliott Davies." 

"That was the second case we worked together." 

"I know." 

You laugh against his lips, kissing for a few moments longer before pulling back and smiling at him. "Is this really something you're interested in pursuing?" 

Aaron seems to struggle to process the question for a moment, eyes glazing over as he thinks, but he eventually gives you one of his rare smiles, dimples and all. "Yeah, it is."

"Even though you'll have to do a bunch of paperwork?" 

He exhales dramatically, resting his forehead against yours even as he pretends to be annoyed. "Never mind, no longer interested. Already have enough of that to last me a lifetime."

"What if I told you I'd split it with you?" 

"Would you really?" 

"Well… no, but–" 

"I thought we were having a romantic moment there," he pouts, his eyes sparkling as he laughs.

"But I would. If I meant I could spend more time with you." 

"Oh, there we go," he whispers, grinning as he kisses you again. "That's what I like to hear." 

"Paperwork is only fun when you're with someone else, yeah?" 

"Exactly," he nods, kissing you again. And again. And once more for good measure. "Now, what say we get some rest and pick this back up in the morning once we're home and rested up? We can discuss it all officially then." 

"That sounds nice. I hope you mean over coffee though, and not over paperwork." 

He laughs. "What about coffee and paperwork?" 

You drop your head on his shoulder with a groan, shoulders shaking as you begin to laugh. He laughs along with you and soon enough the two of you are unable to stop laughing. 

"Who would have thought this would be the aftermath of catching a serial killer?" You ask. 

"Hm, I don't know," he shrugs, "it's passed my mind a few times." 

"As well as dealing with paperwork together?" 

He laughs. "Wouldn't wanna do anything else." 

tag list: @criminalskies @hotchs-big-hands