#He has to put up with an awful lot for all the didn't-ask-for-this and single HP about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

4ngel-inc · 3 months

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｡･:*:･ﾟᰔ 𝓑𝓤𝓝𝓖𝓞 𝓢𝓣𝓡𝓐𝓨 𝓓𝓞𝓖𝓢 — WHEN THEY HURT YOUR FEELINGS

notes — i wrote this for myself & my fellow sensitive bbs :'))

warnings — kinda insecure reader in some, pretty suggestive, a little angst but all with happy endings !!

DAZAI — it hurts your feelings when one of dazai's ex-flings walks up to your table one night when you two are having dinner at your favorite restaurant, "ah- funny seeing you here, osamu. who's the lucky lady?" you glance up when you hear her call him by his first name, and the blood instantly drains from your face—she's absolutely gorgeous. it's clear dazai is only being polite as he offers a bit of small talk before his ex leaves, but she wasn't exactly friendly towards you, and that makes you a little nervous. you ask him about her on the way home, but he doesn't offer much information—"it was just a casual thing, nothing serious, i'm sure she understands." he wraps his arm around your waist tighter, protecting you from the chilly air with his coat wrapped around you, and you start to wonder, what makes you so special that he kept you around? will he grow tired of you as well? you voice your concerns that night before bed, speaking lowly as you're fluffing the pillows, "osamu, what is it you like about me?" he looks offended at that, "darling! what do you mean? i love everything about my sweet angel," he circles the bed, but you step back a little. "stop it, 'samu, i'm not special, why did you pick me?" he looks hurt, but smiles after a moment, pulling you in so he can cradle your face, "i wasn't as awful as you might think, love, i've been a true gentleman to everyone i've dated. and anyways, i didn't choose you, my heart did—i've been yours since the moment we met, i don't know how else to explain it, darling."

CHUUYA — chuuya is always very careful not to hurt your feelings, he's a gentleman in all things, putting your happiness before his own and making sure you feel safe and wanted. truthfully, he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, and most times, you're just downright spoiled. however, his work does take up a lot of his time, and though you've assured him you understand, sometimes, you do feel a little lonely. there are a few nights in a row he comes home without kissing you as he walks in, and he simply goes to bed while you're still on the couch watching tv without so much as an "i love you" first. you're really hurt, but you don't want to come off as needy—chuuya already has a lot to deal with at work, so you simply brush it aside. however, after a few more nights of the same thing, you crack. "chuuya?" you whisper as you peek your head into the bedroom. "mmh- yeah?" his voice is sleepy, and you feel a little bad for waking him, but you need to talk this through. "can we talk?" he sits up at that, turning on the beside lamp, "something wrong, princess?" you run your fingers through his hair before speaking, "chu," you sigh, "it really hurts my feelings when you go to bed without so much as a 'goodnight' or even a kiss, am i getting on your nerves lately or something?" his eyes widen, and he pulls you in, crushing you to him as he kisses your hair, "no- no, no, no, no. of course not. i've just been busy, angel, i'm so sorry. i'll call off work tomorrow, we'll spend the whole day together, yeah?" you smile and climb on top of him, "hmm, well, i think we should stay up all night tonight, then, what do you think?"

SIGMA — sigma absolutely hates the idea of hurting your feelings, it's almost like a foreign concept to him. he can't imagine doing anything to hurt you when his greatest goal in life is to simply keep you around for as long as possible, to love you and make you smile every single day—he's still searching for himself, and he wants to do it with you by his side. you just make him feel so warm and happy, he never wants to lose that. however, when you walk up to him one night on the casino floor, he's talking and laughing with a very beautiful woman, and it stings a little—you eye her hand as she slides it down his arm, clearly aiming to grab at his hand before his eyes dart over to you and he pulls away. "babe! what a surprise, i'm so happy to see you!" you don't answer, only eyeing the woman before she scoffs and walks away. "sigma, love, who was that?" you're trying not to let jealousy get the best of you—it's such an ugly feeling, after all. "huh? oh, just a customer. it's her first time here, she just wanted to tell me how much she likes the casino!" sigma really has no idea how beautiful he is, but his humble nature is just one thing you adore about him. he frowns when you don't answer, only watching the woman as she walks away. "babe? something wrong?" he panics a little, but the taste of your lips soothes him when you pull him in for a kiss that's probably much too passionate for others to be seeing. you hum as you pull away, "nothing at all, you just look gorgeous today, i needed a kiss."

FUKUZAWA — fukuzawa actually hurts your feelings a lot, sadly, but he's got the kindest heart in the world, so you never hold it against him for long. he's simply very blunt, so it's easy for you to feel a little dismissed sometimes. in particular, you bring him lunch at work one day, after spending literally hours on a tiny bento containing all of his favorites fashioned in an intricate design. you're so proud of your work, admiring the little details and garnishes that made it entirely worth all of the sweat (and a few tears), you even made his favorite hōjicha tea to bring with it! however, when you reach the floor of his agency and peek your head into his private office, you realize he has company, and whatever meeting he's having looks quite important. "ah, i'm sorry, y/n, you'll have to come back later." he attempts to close the door on you, but your words stop him, "oh! no, that's fine- i just wanted to bring y-" he cuts you off, "whatever it is, we can talk later, y/n. i'm busy right now." he shuts the door before you can respond, and you've never felt more embarrassed. you wander into the ada's main room before setting the lunch on dazai's desk, "dazai-san, could you eat this? i worked really hard on it, i just want someone to enjoy it," your voice breaks as you walk away. when fukuzawa arrives home later that night, he has the empty bentos in his hand, placing them on the table before approaching you on the couch, but you put a hand out to stop him, "just- don't, yukichi." he ignores your words, dropping to his knees and resting his head in your lap, "my angel, please forgive me, i was meeting with the council. let me make you dinner? lunch was excellent, truly, and it was the best tea i've ever tasted."

AKUTAGAWA — ok, akutagawa is a little clueless, so you give him a lot of leeway, but there are just some things he says and does that can't be erased, and that's especially true when he snaps at you one night, "i just want to be alone for a few minutes! is that too much to ask?" you'd followed him into the bedroom when he got home from work, making grabby hands at him, "ryuuuu," you whined, "where are my kisses?" you simply wanted to spend time with him, but now that he's yelled at you, all you want is to be as far away from him as possible. you sleep on the couch that night, even after he's begged you to come to bed, and eventually, you wake up to him sleeping on the floor next to you, not even covered in a blanket, but simply resting his head in the crook of his arm. he doesn't look comfortable at all, and your heart aches a little when he stirs, "babe? you're awake already?" "ryu, how long've you been there?" "i don't know, maybe a few hours? i couldn't sleep without you," he states nonchalantly, not even a hint of shame in his voice. you sigh, tugging on his arm, "come here, do you remember what you said to me?" he frowns, "yes, and i'm deeply sorry, i had a long day at work. i never want to hurt you, i'm just. . ." he looks down at his hands, "i'm still learning. but trust me when i say this, taking space from you is the last thing i want. coming home to you is the best part of my day."

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #fukuzawa x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #osamu dazai x reader

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).

7k words, new established relationship to established relationship, lots of fluff and some small angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, calls him aaron, basically hotch treating you well

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1. Soup.

"Are you hungry?" Aaron asks, hands at the neck of his shirt as he loosens his tie.

You've never seen him do that. It's a lot to take in.

"A little, are you?" He's lucky that you remember to answer.

His smile lights you up inside and out, a warm, casual quirk. "Famished."

"Should we make something?"

He turns from the doorway and moves into the kitchen. You have to twist on his couch to see his movements.

"No need. I should've asked if you like it, but I made vegetable soup. The kind with mini dumplings."

You look down at your legs and squeeze your thighs together until your knees tap. You're too shy to go and meet him where he's standing, but perhaps sitting and having him wait on you is arrogant. And awkward.

The couch is plush under your hands as you stand. You'd slipped off your shoes at the door, and your socked-feet slide over the tiled floor of the kitchen as you make your way to his side. Aaron lights the stove, atop which stands a tall cooking pot.

"When did you have time to make that?" you ask, soft with awe.

"I knew you'd be coming over. I started it this morning."

"And if I didn't like it?"

He turns his gaze to yours, pot lid held aloft. "Then I would've ordered in for us. You're sure this is okay?"

You've never had somebody cook for you before. Homemade, fresh ingredients, and the intricacy of the dumplings too, it all impresses and amazes you. You feel very special. Like you're worth all the effort.

"I'm sure. More sure if you let me try it."

His laugh startles you for its rarity. "Okay. It's not done," he warns.

"Just to taste it."

He stirs the warming soup with a big spoon for half a minute, the heat on high, before scooping up some broth and holding it above a cupped palm. "It's probably not very hot," he says.

Oh, you think, excited and sick with nerves at once. He's going to feed the soup to me.

Something out of a movie, something you didn't know people actually did for their significant others, Aaron waits for you to open your mouth and offers the spoon. You slurp and feel heat rise to your cheeks at the clumsy sound.

"Aaron," you say, soft and obsessed after you've swallowed, "it's really nice. You made that yourself?"

"I can cook," he says defensively.

You lick your lips, giggling. "I can tell. That was really good. Though it was definitely too cold."

"Mm. It has to cook through some more. Reduce. Do you want to shower?" He puts down his wooden spoon, head tilting to one side gently. He assesses your expression, and brings a curved hand to settle over your cheek. The tip of his index finger kisses the delicate skin under your eye. "No, maybe not. You look tired."

You probably shouldn't say something like that to your brand new girlfriend (you scream internally at the word, every single time since he asked you a week ago) but Aaron speaks factually. You don't think for a second that there's any malice there, any hidden critique. His words shine with concern.

"It's Friday. I'm always tired at the end of the week."

His hand falls to your shoulder. "I can imagine."

"You can go shower, if you like. I'll watch the soup."

"I need one, huh?"

He must know how well-kept he looks even now. You're not sure you've ever seen him dishevelled.

"Definitely need one," you try to tease. It comes out murmur-quiet, and Aaron takes pity and kisses your cheek.

He leaves to shower and you 'watch' the soup — you stand at the stovetop and soak in it's emanating warmth, stirring it every now and then to prevent the bottom from burning. The shower runs muffled from the bathroom, and your mind wanders as it tends to do. It's an undeniable fact that Aaron is naked right now, the thought opening an avenue of images you've been trying not to think about all day. It's your very first time spending the night after a couple of weeks of dating, and now you're together, if Aaron wants to have sex tonight you'll say yes. He's handsome, and his build suggests a certain… tenacity.

His hands would convince you alone. Big hands.

You look down into the simmering pot of soup and smile harder than you have any right to smile. He's done everything right, all the romance; he'd asked you out clearly with no doubt of his intentions, which had shocked you; he'd brought you a bouquet of flowers on your first date, which had delighted you; and he hadn't tried to take you home, which had surprised you.

Modern romance often doesn't feel very romantic. Things with Aaron are different.

Hell, he's so sweet he probably won't make a move unless you make one yourself.

You'd prefer to be squeaky clean tonight, you've decided, just in case. When he gets out of the shower, you'll tell him you've changed your mind.

The shower shuts off. He appears a little bit after that, in new clothes, towel around his neck and feet either side of your own as he sidles in for a damp and quick cheek kiss.

"Sorry I took so long. Are you ready to eat?" he asks, taking the spoon from your hand to give the soup a big, gran stir.

"Actually, could I shower?"

If he's surprised at your changed mind he says nothing, only turns down the heat of the stove. "Of course you can. Come on, I'll show you how it all works."

His 'come on' is accompanied with a guiding hand at the small of your back. You let yourself be guided. The heat of his touch fills your stomach and doesn't abate, no matter how cold you run the spray.

2. Phone calls.

It's the week after that when you're supposed to be spending the night again. You're excited for two reasons, the first and smallest being that he had been what you thought and more in bed, that itself an expectation raised, and it had felt like connection at its brightest — he'd been sweet, and he'd been rough but never, not ever once cruel. A perfect night. The second, and biggest, is that he's honestly just the nicest person you've ever met. He's your boyfriend, a phrase you don't say in front of him because he's admittedly older than you, and you can't imagine he calls you his girlfriend. Partner might be more apt. He's your boyfriend and he's openly fond of you. Openly more than that. It's new to be doted on as ardently as he dotes on you.

He touches you like he can't believe he's touching you. He talks to you like you're gold dust, all smiles and laughs heavy with admiration, and he listens. You've never felt listened to in the way you do when you're with him.

So many conversations are just one party waiting for the other to stop talking until it's their turn. You think, maybe, Aaron would let you talk for hours. He would listen the whole time.

In summary, you're basically thrumming with excitement to see him again. You've missed him some, but mostly you've spent the week bouncing off of walls waiting for the next time you get to talk to him.

His text is disheartening, to say the least.

Hey, honey. I have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm sorry, and I'll explain as soon as I get the chance. Please take care of yourself for me until I can.

It doesn't make you mad. While it is extremely short notice, and your heart hurts to the point of frustrated tears, you know it isn't his fault. He's been clear about his job at the FBI and what that means for you both. How it will without a doubt pull him away from you during dates, the middle of the night, special occasions, the works — this had been after a small disclosure about his commitment to his son, Jack, and how he's a father first — and how it will definitely cause some strain.

"But," he'd said, "I want you, and I want this to work. So if you can be patient with me, I'll try to make it worth it."

He's been successful every time. After he'd cancelled your third date, he'd quickly rearranged it and apologised with a modest but beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth date, you hadn't seen him for two whole weeks, and every worry you'd had about his intentions had been abated by a steady stream of encouraging text messages and the occasional photograph. Nothing crazy, but sweet things, like the cookies he and Jack had made that night, captioned, I'd save one for you if I thought Jack would let me, or a sunrise in a different state, captioned, This looks like the dress you wore to Lemaira.

Later that night, you're unhappy and frowning still, a small carton of ice cream freezing your fingers to the cardboard and a spoon in your mouth when your phone starts to ring.

You aren't expecting it to be Aaron. You aren't in the habit of calling one another, even though you'd secretly wished he would while he's away beforehand.

It's nearing eight o'clock.

"What time do you call this?" you joke, smiling despite yourself. Again, the excitement that comes with talking to him wells at the surface.

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, sounding very tired.

You slouch down into your couch cushions, ice cream on the armrest, remote for the TV on your chest. You click the volume button down, down, down until the TV's near silent.

"I'm kidding, mostly. Are you okay? I've been a little worried."

Understatement of the century. You know sudden cases of violence often draw him away from Virginia, but this had been sudden sudden. The lack of information had made you think the worst, worse than serial killer and bombers and hostage situations. You'd thought Aaron was in danger himself, and then you'd tried to suffocate that thought. He'd never worry you like that even if he were.

"I'm fine. Sorry to miss you tonight."

"I'm sorry to miss you too," you say, voice disjointed, too earnest. You scramble to hide the depth of your feelings. "Where are you?"

"I'm in St. Louis. Where are you?"

You laugh, curling onto your side with the phone pressed up against your ear. "Where am I? I'm at home."

"What are you doing?"

"I was watching TV."

"Yeah? Did you eat anything yet?"

You think to the takeout you'd bought and shoved in the microwave, not hungry at the time but knowing knowing would be. "Not yet. Why are you asking?"

"I want to know."

"I told you in my text I would take care, Aaron."

"Honey," he says, pet name like a warm palm over your heart, "my definition of taking care and your definition are very different. Promise me you'll eat something."

"Of course I will. Easy promise." You scratch the couch fabric absent-mindedly. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes," he says, the sound of a closing window in the background. "It's awful how much take out I eat. All these cases, there's never any time to cook real food."

"Why, what did you have? And surely there's some uber healthy options out there, like, a chickpea salad-"

"That costs thirty dollars? I'm not struggling, honey, but we both know that's obscene."

You're laughter takes on a giddy quality as you cross your leg over the other, picturing his smile as his laughter echoes breathily down the line. You really, really wish he were here right now and that you were having this conversation face to face. You know he'd smile and try to hide how smug he feels at making you laugh. His hand would reach over any gap to touch some silly part of you, forearm or collar or the skin under your ribcage.

"Are you okay?" You say his name to drive the point home. Your voice is quiet — you're hesitant to offer, worried you're crossing a boundary. "Aaron, I know you don't like bringing it home, but you aren't home, so… I'm here."

"I know. It's nothing I want you to worry about, there's an ongoing situation here, bomb threats coming in quicker than the local P.D can handle. They need us to vet them and figure out if any of them are real."

You think about it for a few seconds, the silence small but not uncomfortable. If you were under that kind of pressure, you'd be hurting. Chest pains, anxiety shakes, a migraine.

"You'll be safe?" you ask.

"Always. I'm not in any danger. And I need to get home, I owe you a Friday."

"You do," you mumble.

There's the creak of a box spring mattress, and the sound of a lamp being clicked. On or off, you don't know. When Aaron speaks, his tone is dulcet and hushed but distinct. You feel it in your chest.

"Tell me about your day," he murmurs.

You lay it all out for him in detail. He can barely reply when you hang up, sleep thickening his affectionate, "Goodnight, honey."

3. His bleeding heart.

"What kind of kid were you?" he asks.

You look up from your notebook, surprised. Aaron has been silent for what feels like an hour now, laid out on the picnic blanket with your sweater bundled up under his head while the sun warms your skin.

"I was…" You let your pen roll into the centre of your notebook and close it. He's laid his paperback flat across his chest. You think he might be very interested in the answer. "It was a long time ago, but I think I was lonely."

He nods like this is what he'd been expecting. "Me too."

It's a gorgeous day out. The sky is a light, bright blue with few clouds. They block the sun occasionally, providing a short and bittersweet shield from the heat. The grass surrounding is shockingly green, rippling in the breeze.

"You were?" you ask. "What were you like?"

"I was quiet."

"That's not surprising," you say mildly.

"No, I guess not."

You abandon your notebook and lay down beside him. Worrying what you look like from this angle, you cover your jaw with your hand and turn toward him ever so slightly to show you're listening.

"I liked affection. I remember my mom used to say I was a siphon for it. I'd be all over her, and she'd have nothing left to give anyone else."

"That's not true," you deny. Every ounce of affection that you given him, he has returned tenfold, and that's inspired a lot of kindness in you, for him and for the world. "You're like an amplifier, if anything."

He smiles to himself and turns his gaze skyward. "I wish we'd met before."

"Me too," you say, leaving little room for debate.

"You're so kind," — he adorns you with each word like a gift, a tiny star of praise — "I think you're the kindest person I've ever met."

He laughs. It's a catching sound, contagious as anything. You giggle with him and shift closer. Your arms touch, your hips.

"Baby," you murmur, almost lamenting, "d'you ever think your ability to see the good in people is- It's indicative of the good in you... You've given more of your life than most to keep other people safe. That's the kindest thing a person can do."

He tangles your hand with his where it had been resting on your stomach. You're pretty sure you can feel every line of every fingerprint as he works your fingers together, a snug fit like one of those wooden brain teaser puzzles: How do you pull these two pieces apart? From the outside, it looks impossible!

"I think I'd be different, if I'd met you before. I'd be kinder," he says.

You can't agree with him. It's obvious who he is. You know more about him now than you ever have before. His late wife, how she'd been the best mother they ever made. His son, and how he moulds Aaron everyday into a better man. His friends, who trust him, who adore him. All these people have a hand in who Aaron is now, and while you wish you'd been around from the start, now will have to do.

"You're plenty kind," you say. Understatement of the century.

"Sorry," he says with a laugh, "With you-" He cuts himself off, head-shaking from side to side as he pulls your joined hands up slowly.

Your arm bends and then turns as he pulls it toward his face. He unlinks your fingers to steer your forearm, aligning it flat over his lips. The first kiss is a surprise, light like the feathered edge of a flower petal, and the second isn't dissimilar.

The third melts you, veritably, the parting of his lips emphasised by the dull scratch of teeth against your pulse, the wet heat of his tongue. Three becomes four, and a final fifth, crescent moons pressed into your skin like he's trying to tell you something.

You've no clue what. You likely couldn't say which way the world turns, not when he's kissing you. Not like this.

Aaron has an acute ability to talk without talking. Hello's and thank you's and I care about you's woven into quick kisses, the swift squeeze of his hand over the slope of your shoulder.

These ones say something you don't want to speak aloud, lest you jinx it.

The sunlight fades. A big grey cloud covers the sun.

"I think it's gonna rain," you say.

A raindrop splashes in Aaron's eye.

"Fuck," he says, which is hilarious, because he never swears in front of you. You hadn't known he cussed at all.

The downpour is slow and then sudden, spitting rain dotting over you both like a fine mist as you stand, a thicker, faster outpouring chasing your heels as you hurry to the car. You realise you can't outrun it even if you sprint, and so you stop, Aaron's hand in yours tugged like a rubber band. He bounces back into your chest with the picnic blanket under his arm, your books tucked somewhere inside.

He doesn't ask what you're doing. He's made the same deduction as you, or maybe he trusts you, or maybe he's indulging you.

"Your hair," he laments.

"Doesn't matter," you say.

You lift your chin up for a kiss. Aaron ducks down to give you one. A raindrop runs down the bridge of his nose to the tip of yours.

4. In sickness.

You insist that it wasn't the rain that made you sick, but honestly there's no way to tell. You'd kissed for slightly too long, and the rain had been surprisingly cold. Now you aren't very well, and you have to cancel Aaron's sleepover.

You hold out as long as you can, but come Friday afternoon it's clear you aren't getting better. You wake to a text from Aaron, two texts, and it makes you smile through shivery coughs.

I can't wait to see you tonight. Do you need anything before I get there? Miss you. Sent 6.26AM.

Is everything okay? Sent 9.17AM.

Usually you'd have answer his morning text within the hour.

Hi, I miss you too, so much, but I don't think we'll be able to see each other tonight. I've got the flu :( I'm sorry. And sorry I couldn't answer your message until now, I was sleeping.

It's another hour before he answers. You rouse from your gross snotty stupor to squint at the phone. It's surprisingly long.

I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get back to you, things are tense here right now. You don't have to be sorry for either, I'm glad to hear you're resting. You could have told me you were sick. Is it okay if I come and see you tonight anyways? I would love to check on you. Don't rush to answer, and call me if you can.

You call him with reservations.

"Is this a good time?" you ask weakly, forgoing a hello.

It takes him a little while to speak. You assume he's leaving a room, closing a door. "Now's fine. How are you?"

"My throat hurts and it's a little hard to breathe, but I'm sure I'll live."

"You've been to see a doctor?"

"It's not that bad."

He sighs. "You sound tired. And sore. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"You don't have to baby me, I'm really okay."

"Have you considered that I'd like to baby you?"

Not really. You can't imagine anyone would want to deal with you. You're a mess, you look awful, you don't smell great, and you're not good company. You can't think of a single reason Aaron would want to be anywhere near you right now.

"No," you say, "I hadn't."

"I'd love to look after you."

"You could be doing something fun with your Friday. You could see Jack."

"Jack's going to Kings Dominion. And Fridays are our day, you being sick doesn't make me want to see you less."

You hadn't said that, but he'd inferred it. Of course he had.

You and Aaron decide that your sleepover will go ahead after all. Or, he persuades you very gently. You spend three hours doing tasks that should only take one. You shower, you clean your room, and you do the dishes. By the end of it you're sweating enough to need another shower but you aren't a quitter, so you open the freezer and stick your head in, hands braced against the refrigerator door.

You're excited to see him. You always are. Too bad you look so wiped out.

It's almost 6.30 when you hear his knock on the door. You'd been waiting for him and started dozing at the kitchen table, your neck a mess of twisted nerves, your hand numb from supporting your head. You shake it out and open the door, sheepish.

"Hi," you croak out.

He has a lot of stuff with him. His familiar overnight bag, a briefcase, two grocery bags, and a bouquet.

"Aaron, why," you moan, covering your face with one hand as you move back down the hall to let him in.

"Not the greeting I'd hoped for."

"I can't greet you, I'll make you sick."

You get all the way to the kitchen and think, triumphantly, that you've escaped his 'greeting'. He puts the flowers down carefully on the kitchen counter as you try to come up with a thank you that doesn't make your eyes burn. The grocery bags are placed without ceremony on the floor, and his overnight bag falls onto the kitchen chair. You watch him unbutton his rain spattered coat, and your triumph fades when he peels out of it and instantly reaches for you.

"Aaron," you mumble, stepping into his arms. He knows you can't say no to a hug, not after a week of not seeing him.

"I missed you," he says, arms around your back, lips at your temple. "You're running a temperature."

"It's not that bad. 101."

"Honey, 101 is bad."

"Not as bad as 102."

"Not as bad as 102," he concedes. You can hear his voice rumbling in his throat, and feel it in his chest and yours.

He takes as much of your weight as he can, leaning back so you're forced to arc forward. Your face slips into his neck, and you're thinking, this is what it's like? To be held, sick, with nothing to give? It feels good.

"Please tell me the next time you're sick," he murmurs.

You definitely will. If this is what it's like, roaming, cautious hands over your shoulder blades, a strong nose stroking lines against your warm forehead.

"Thank you for the flowers."

It's squished against his skin but he hears it. "You're welcome. Do you want me to put them in a vase?"

"I can do it."

"I think that might defeat the purpose. They're a gift, not an extra chore."

"Nobody ever got me flowers before you, so it doesn't feel like a chore at all."

He encourages your face back enough to look at you. You have to mouth breath on him because your nose is all stuffed up, and it is not something you're happy to do. You look down so he can't feel it.

"I'm gonna do something really cheesy, and you can tease me about it later, okay?"

You look at him from under your lashes. "'Kay."

"Close your eyes," he whispers.

You let your eyes shut. Aaron cradles your face in both hands and pulls your face toward his chin, in your rough approximation.

Heat fans against your eyes. He kisses your eyelids, the left and then the right, the most gentle press of his lips you've ever felt.

"It's killing me to see you like this," he says, and you're grateful for the pinch of humour behind it. "Couch or bed?"

"Couch. I wanna watch a movie with you."

"Good. I wanna watch a movie with you, too."

Aaron does everything. You're too tired to notice, but when you're better, you'll add it all up. He makes you dinner and breakfast and lunch and enough for the day after that, too. He trims down all your flowers and places them in a vase on your window sill. He recleans your room, cleans your bathroom, and plays nursemaid diligently. He makes you take your temperature in front of him, and then he fawns and makes you hug an ice pack, stays the night again when he's supposed to go home.

It sucks, but your temperature falls, and when your insides stop cooking themselves you start to feel better. On Sunday morning, when he has to leave, you feel the strange pang of being cared for unconditionally like the wind being knocked out of you. He'd done all of that because he cares about you. He'd wanted to see you fed and well and happy, and he hadn't gotten anything out of it in return.

5. The test-drive.

"Hi, Jack," you mumble, rubbing wetness out of your sleep-heavy eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he says cheerfully, of his father's disposition.

"Did you," — you yawn wide and turn your face so neither of them can see — "sleep well?"

"Yeah, thank you. Why are you so tired?"

Aaron's standing at the stovetop making oatmeal. You stand at the counter beside it, hips touching but facing opposite ways. "I'm still getting used to your dad's bed."

It's true. There's something about someone else's mattress that makes you ache.

"What is it about my mattress you can't get along with?" Aaron asks in good humour, adding a generous pinch of salt to the saucepan.

"It's more comfortable than mine," you say with a self-satisfied laugh.

Aaron pecks your damp cheek and skirts around you to fill three identical bowls of oatmeal next to three identical glasses of orange juice. Jack cheers when his portions are placed in front of him, and he digs in even though it's ridiculously hot.

Aaron had explained once that he's basically trained Jack to eat it scorchingly hot by accident. Years of oatmeal straight off of the hob versus a growing boy with no patience. You watch in awe as Jack scarfs it down.

You and Aaron are doing this thing. You've called it the test-drive in your head. He wants to see how well you and Jack get along, likely, and how well you handle living together, too. (Though you absolutely don't think you'll be moving in together quite this soon.) That's your working theory. He'd asked you if you'd be interested in staying for the week a month ago, and you had, and it had been a dream. This is week two, and it seems to be going just as well as the first.

It's definitely revealing. To see each other's routines. And an adjustment. You have to see all the gross stuff, no avoiding it.

Though stuff you might consider gross he enjoys. Like watching you put on body lotion, he'd loved that more than words could express. And watching him shave, you'd loved that more than you'd thought you would. You'd sat on the lip of the tub and he'd listened to your morning murmurings, half asleep and excited as always to talk to him about everything.

Getting to know Jack more has been a joy, too. You've met him nowhere near as many times as you would've liked and done family things: bowling, pizza places, the movies, a baseball game.

Eating breakfast together is way more fun. Especially because Jack likes you.

As soon as you sit down he starts to tell you about school. You listen, sipping your orange juice while you wait for the oatmeal to cool from lava.

After breakfast, the three of you head back to your respective bedrooms to get dressed.

That's something else you adore, you and Aaron undressing and redressing together in the space in front of his closet, the intimacy of casual nudity, and the way his hand closes around your hip to move you out of the way of his shirts.

You're pretty much inseperable until you get to the car park. A firm believer in kids receiving as much love as they can from everybody, you offer Jack a hug before you part ways everytime. Sometimes he says yes, though most times he says, "Thank you, Miss Y/N, but my hug quota is full."

Today, he squeezes your waist really hard and says, "Have a good day bye," like it's one word.

"Have a good day, baby," you tell him, laughing as he jettisons into the passenger seat of Aaron's car.

Aaron usually gives you a swift kiss and goodbye like his son. Today, he brings his hand to your neck. You stare him straight in his dark eyes as he does, marvelling the shock of straight lashes outlining each one, and the permanent wrinkle between his brow from frowning.

Placing two hands on either shoulder, you use his frame to rise on tiptoes and kiss it.

"Don't frown too much today, okay, handsome? Have a good day."

He cups your face in both hands as your heels touch the ground. His hands are warm, kind as he pushes both palms over your cheeks and your ears. He covers them, and your heartbeat amplifies, a thumping sound fighting his skin. Then he slips his fingers behind your ears and the roaring fades.

"I love you," he says.

You beam at him. "Really?"

"Really. I love you, honey. Have a good day."

As if. If he thinks he can walk away after dropping that on you he's got another thing coming.

You throw your arms around his neck and all your weight into his front, almost barrelling him over. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your thighs around him, 'cause then he really might fall over.

You dig your face into his neck, searching for something, for the perfect place to rest your cheek. "I love you, Aaron."

There isn't a chance in hell he didn't already know it.

"I got you something," he says.

You laugh in surprise and tighten your hold on him. "Why? This is gift enough." He loves you. It bounces around in your chest.

"Because I'm not stupid enough to miss what I have right in front of me."

You lean back so you can kiss him, ignoring his hand as it reaches into his pocket.

"Baby," you say, a hair's width from his lips. You kiss him again for a second, thrilled, but curiosity pulls you back. "You have it now?"

He takes a step away from you and reveals the box in his pocket, long and thin. It clicks open on a silver hinge, and inside velveteen lies a simple chain.

"Is that a diamond?" you ask, breathless. The stone at the end of the chain shines like nothing you've ever seen before.

You don't know a thing about them other than that they're expensive. You can't see Aaron Hotchner of all people buying a fake.

"A small one," he says modestly.

Your eyes burn. You're happy to the point of tears but you refuse to cry.

"And it's for me?" you ask.

He laughs and you laugh too, the sound slightly sniffly.

"Of course. Do you want to wear it?"

"Now? Yes, more than anything," you say, smiling hard, cheeks appled and aching. "Are you serious?"

"More than anything."

Corny, you think desperately. Do not cry, that's so cheesy.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until my birthday?"

He gestures for you to turn around, the chain hanging from his finger. You turn, feel his hands brushing against your neck as he lays it across your chest and pulls it together behind your nape.

"Your birthday gift is better than this."

Better? You could burst.

The clasp closes and he rubs his hands down the backs of your shoulders.

You turn back around, face dipped to your chest in efforts to see the necklace. It's short but long enough to spot the diamond hanging under your collar.

"I've never had a diamond, before," you mumble, hands pressed to your chest. Your heart bumps under your hand.

"Thank you," you say, looking up, "baby, you didn't have to. You don't have to get me stuff like this, it's a lot."

"I don't think it's too much. You give gifts when you're grateful. I'm grateful to love you."

He's expecting you this time, unwavering when your arms slide over his shoulders. You breathe in the smell of his skin and he does the same, his face pressed to the top of your head.

Jack is late for school that day. You apologise to Aaron more times than you can count, and every time he only smiles and says, "It's okay. I love you."

Aaron misses your first anniversary.

It's a very important date to miss, and you have a right to be upset.

But.

You always knew from the very first date that this was something that could, unfortunately, happen. You'd been lucky to get him for your birthday, luckier still to see him on his own and treat him with the delights he deserved. You'd figured eventually something would happen to throw a spanner in the works.

What you aren't expecting is the lack of anger.

You aren't mad at him, not one bit. It would be okay if you were, even though it's not his fault, because this is so big. You're celebrating the best year of your life alone, and that's no fun. You and Aaron had planned to go away, two days in a fancy hotel, Jack with Jessica and no worries.

He can't ignore a bomb threat in the capital, and he wouldn't want to.

You know a missed anniversary is a lesser weight than innocent people dead. You know Aaron wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't go. You know he regrets leaving you on such an important day.

Maybe one day, you'll be angry with him. Today, you only miss him.

I love you. I'm sorry. I'll be back very soon. Happy anniversary.

He sends that after a grovelling, short phone call, in which you assure him that it's fine. Your voice is tight with tears, you miss him like crazy, and he hears it though you try to hide it.

I will make it up to you.

You don't have any doubts.

You feel a little sorry for yourself, and then you send him a text of your own.

I love you, so don't be sorry. Get back safe and sound and consider yourself forgiven. Happy anniversary, my love.

Followed with what's likely too many hearts for good measure.

Still, still, he doesn't believe it's okay. You know he's human, and he loves you, and that makes it easy to predict how he's feeling — worried that you're angry, worried that you'll leave him, worried this won't work for you.

And you're only human yourself. You can't say how you'll feel in another year, or two, or five. You can't imagine how depressing it might be to miss the holidays and birthdays and anniversaries with him year after year, but you want to be patient. You want to forgive him for the things he has no hand in, and you do.

You get a visitors pass for his office once you're cleared and take the elevator up, checking your text messages for the fifth time, just to make sure.

I'll be home in a couple of hours, the plane touches down in two. Love you. Sent 4.53PM.

It's the day after your anniversary, a Monday, and it's nearly 7PM. You smile at people you've seen in passing the few times you've visited his office before and don't bother trying to sit in Aaron's office, knowing it's locked while he's away. You travel the spare steps and sit at the top of the landing, hands clutching the neck of the bunch of flowers you're holding nervously. The cellophane crinkles.

You hadn't answered him. It was cruel to leave him hanging, but you didn't expect him to come home so soon. He's too damn good at his job.

The elevator doors open in the quiet. Barely anybody lingers now in the late hour, and the voices of the BAU echo.

Spencer sees you first. Morgan second. They stop at the beginning of the office.

Aaron sees you third.

You spring to stand up on your feet, and then you feel very tall and very seen and descend the steps rather than draw more attention.

"You said seven," you say, not sure what else to say, not with people watching you. "This is definitely closer to eight."

Aaron thankfully isn't too proud to speed walk to you. Your heart skips as you meet him, flowers crushed half to death as he gets his arm behind your neck, hooking your head in the crook of his elbow.

He kisses you roughly. Heat floods every inch of skin, your breath rushes out of your nose with a sigh.

He pulls back.

"Happy anniversary," you say quietly, smiling at the sheer relief in his eyes.

"It was yesterday," he says, quiet too.

"Happy one year and one day, then." You push him away from you gently. "Don't suffocate your roses."

"You got me flowers."

"You get people gifts when you're grateful," you parrot.

He takes a step back and accepts the flowers. On the message card, you've written, bashful and clumsy and adoring, I'm grateful to love you. One year and more.

He moves the bouquet into one hand and wraps you up in another huh, firm-armed, chin over the top of your head, though he intersperses his embrace with dainty kisses pecked from one temple to another.

"You aren't mad?" he asks, worried about the answer.

"No," you say honestly. "Not mad. Missed you like crazy yesterday, but I get you today. I can make it work."

When you break apart a second time, you both buckle under the weight of his colleagues watching.

"Thank you," Rossi speaks up, grand and wry, "we thought we'd have to endure his moping for at least a week. Your understanding spares us all."

"Nice, Dave," Aaron says.

"I've got your paperwork, Hotch," Morgan offers.

Aaron has the good sense to accept it before Morgan can change his mind. His friends say goodbye, and Aaron pulls you by the hand back to the elevator bank. You couldn't wipe the smile off of his face if you tried.

The elevator doors have barely closed when he's leaning down to kiss you again.

"Thank you," he says.

"You really don't have to say thank you," you murmur, bumping your shoulder with his. "You got home safe. That's all that matters."

His next kiss is bruising. The sound of cellophane crushed between you makes you laugh. He kisses you through it, his smile pressed feverishly to yours, over and over and over.

༺༻

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed please consider reblogging, i promise it makes a difference to me <3

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner

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celaenaeiln · 2 months

Note

Hello, hello! It's been a while!!! Hope you're well. I had this hc about how Batfam is susceptible to manipulation, but only if it's Dick doing it. Like the blind faith he commands, there will literally get everyone ready to get him what he wants without him actually having to do anything. Like of anyone asks for a reason: "Dick said so". That's enough.

Just wanted your opinion on this

Omg hello!!! It’s been so long!! I’m so happy to hear to hear from you again 😆💕❤️!!

Hc that Bruce being completely susceptible to all of Dick’s manipulations due to the sheer faith he has in him? ABSOLUTELY!!

It’s so friggin true I’m pretty sure this is borderline canon if not canon already!!

Because here’s the thing: from the dawn of Batman comics to now, through all the changes that have occurred, there has only been one thing that remains constant and that is the fact that Bruce trusts Dick unconditionally.

There are MULTIPLE scenarios where Bruce confides solely in Dick and he actually worries heavily when his only companion leaves:

The Brave and Bold (1955) Issue #197

"My only real friends know me as Batman...Dick, Alfred, Kathy Kane...except..what do I do when Dick graduates college...and Alfred retires...and Kathy gives up being Batwoman? What do I do...when I'm finally alone?"

Bruce...that's a whole lot of pressure and expectation to put on a kid a decade younger than you..

But the point still stands because Bruce needs Dick. In the beginning of the Batman comics, there wasn't even Alfred around. It was just Dick and Bruce and they lived in an entire mansion together by themselves and had dual responsibilities of Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne as well as Batman and Robin. It was quite literally only the two of them in their own world. They went on adventures you wouldn't believe and had things happen beyond people's wildest imaginations. The Golden Age was a fever dream that encompassed only the two of them. They didn't have anyone else and they didn't want anyone else.

Dick pulled Bruce out of one of the worst times of his life when he was just Robin and Bruce pulled Dick out of depression during his. This resulted in a unbreakable bond. It's a deep kind of unshakable, irreplaceable love and profound trust that they have in each other that the other will only and always be there for them in the worst of times of their lives and the happiest of ones as well.

It's that kind of devotion and attachment to each other that established their relationship for decades. Every single timeline has consistently kept this - "You're my only one." - kind of relationship between the two of them.

Batman (2011) Issue #2

Bruce knows that of everyone he's ever met, Dick will always be the one to know him and hear him.

There's another comic panel that stuck out to me too-

Titans (2008) Issue #1

"No one knows about them except Bruce, Alfred, Tim. Barbara knows about a few. And ofcourse me."

Bruce only trusts three people - Alfred, his current robin, and Dick.

So consistently and unconditionally, it only comes down to two people at ALL times. For another example, during Death Metal, when the entire Justice League is hunting down Batman and the Batfamily, Bruce would only entrust the deadliest weapon in the world to one person and the entire league knows it.

Dark Nights: Metal Issue #2

Bruce just has pure faith in Dick for everything. He is the one person that Bruce believes will never do any wrong and he's the one person he always believes and believes in. Period.

Titans: Beast World Issue #1

Whatever Dick decides, it's the final word.

So that is why Dick is the only person Bruce is susceptible to. He never questions Dick in the comics ever. He's questioned every single person he's ever worked with about their intentions but never Dick. So Dick tells him the world is ending then the world is ending for Bruce.

If Dick tells him that red is an awful tie color, then it's an awful tie color that Bruce will never wear.

If Dick tells him to slick his hair back, take a break, be more compassionate, have faith - Bruce will do anything and everything. And this has been proven time and time again for the most menial situations to the most serious ones.

While everyone looks up at Bruce for answers and orders, Bruce will look to Dick and what he says, that's what they'll all do.

And here's the thing - the entire superhero community doesn't rely just on Bruce for commands, Dick is shown to have an equal weight. A single person has the equivalent weight of the Justice League. They will do what Dick says regardless of what Bruce says.

But the point is Bruce's utter faith in Dick gives him privileges. Anything and everything Dick decides, that's the answer, logic, and light of very reasoning to Bruce because Dick is the very source of existence for Bruce. In Forever Evil he almost let the world die intentionally because he felt that there was nothing to the world if he couldn't save Dick. At times he's fought Dick over his personal choices but every single time, without fail, he comes back literally two issues later to tell him sorry and you're right and we're going to do it your way.

Dick could let the world burn to fucking ashes and Bruce would stand by and clap and praise him. That time in the Blockbuster arc? Where Dick passively killed a man and started self-harming? Bruce roughly grabbed his face, got real close, and told him in his darkest voice that he doesn't give a flying fuck who dies or who Dick kills. As long as Dick doesn't dare hurt himself.

Dick can tell Bruce anything he ever wants, lie or truth, big or small, and Bruce will believe it with no doubts and no questions asked. That is the weight of his faith in him. Of course if someone does ask why he chose to do something a certain way? He can just say, "Because Dick said so." And as you called it, that answer alone will be enough. For everyone.

Don't be fooled by Dick's submissiveness to Bruce's commands. Bruce is holding him by the neck, but he's holding Bruce's leash just as tightly.

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #robin dick grayson #hal jordan #green lantern #cyborg #garfield logan #beast boy #raven #cl dreams-with-thoughts asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!#missed youuu love ya <33

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gummydummy19 · 4 months

Text

A White Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend Steve have the tower to yourself this Christmas :))

Content Warnings: Smut (handjob, use of toys, cum eating, anal, top M reader, bottom Steve Rogers, slight degradation, daddy kink...), fluff, horrible Christmas puns :))

A/N: @sozombiearcade thank you so much for this lovely Christmas request and for being so patient with me <3, I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas everyone!!xxx

Word Count: 1860+

The streets of New York were packed. People desperately scattered around trying to find a last-minute Christmas present. It was absolutely freezing, or at least that's what it looked like. You were nice and warm up in Stark Tower, with a book on your lap.

You smiled to yourself as you glanced over to the big, beautiful Christmas tree, the neatly wrapped present you bought your boyfriend immediately catching your eye.

The Tower is quiet, aside from your Christmas playlist you have on repeat. Thor and Loki went back to Asgard, Nat and Bruce went over to Clint and his family during the Holidays, Sam invited Bucky to join him and his sister for Christmas dinner and Tony took Pepper skiing in Aspen. Leaving you and your boyfriend Steve alone in the Tower, which you had decorated excessively.

The smell of gingerbread slowly invades your senses and you hear Steve hum along with "Jingle Bells" from the kitchen. Sadly, his happy humming stops and gets replaced by an upset whine and a naughty word or two.

'Language!', you yell with a grin, but when you don't hear a reply, you decide to put your book aside and make your way to the kitchen.

'Stevie, everything okay?' you ask as you stick your head through the doorframe. Steve is looking down at his tray of freshly baked cookies with a defeated look.

"What's wrong, honey? They look great!" you ask as you walk closer.

"I forgot to buy icing." The look on his face breaks your heart, but admittedly the little pout on his face is quite adorable. Truth be told, he has been looking insanely good all day.

Steve is not only an attractive man, he also cares a lot about hygiene. Back in the 40s he didn't have all the luxuries he has today, and when he goes on missions he sometimes can't shower or shave for weeks. So when he's home, he showers and shaves every single morning after his run. He hates body hair, so he was always perfectly sleek...everywhere.

"Oh Stevie, that's okay...they still look good without the icing," you reassure him, looking down at the gingerbread men.

"They look naked." he points out with a frown on his face.

You grin, pulling Steve closer and pressing a sweet kiss on his neck. "I do love my men naked..." you mumble as you nibble on his ear, hoping to cheer him up a little.

Unfortunately, the defeated look on Steve's face didn't go away that easily. "Aw, Stevie..." you cooed, wrapping your arms around him, "you know I hate to see you sad," your lips found his neck again while your arms squeezed him tighter to your chest.

Steve's breath hitched when you found his sweet spot, nibbling on it while your hands gently grabbed his hips, pulling his ass flush against your hardening cock. His hands grabbed the counter for balance as he whined, feeling your bulge grind against his ass.

"I'm sure we can figure something out...let me turn that frown upside down, baby, hmm?"

"Yes, daddy", Steve moaned obediently.

"Wanna touch daddy's cock? Hmm? Would that make you happy? Wanna jerk me off, baby?", you teased.

"Yes, daddy..." he whined.

"Ask daddy nicely, baby,"

"Please, daddy, please," he bucked his hips forward.

"Please, what?" you taunted.

"Please can I touch you, daddy, can I jerk you off, please..." he begged.

"Good boy...of course baby, c'mere," you packed up a little, allowing Steve to turn around. He immediately dropped to his knees and pulled down your sweats, noticing that you were already rock-hard.

"What a slutty boy..." you groaned, spitting in your hand before reaching down to stroke your hard cock.

You groaned at the feeling, letting your eyes fall shut for a second until you heard Steve whine impatiently.

You looked down at him, "Touch daddy's cock, Stevie", you commanded and he immediately did as he was told, squeezing your dick tightly as he stroked it up and down before twisting his first over your tip.

As you felt yourself creep closer to the edge, the tray of cookies caught your eye. You reached over, pulling it closer while Steve sped up his movements around your throbbing cock.

"That's it, baby...be a good boy and make daddy cum."

It only took a couple more strokes until you fell over the edge with a loud groan. Your body shook a little as you tried your best to aim for the platter, covering the gingerbread men with your sticky, white cum.

"Fuck, Steve...", you couldn't help but groan, "good fucking boy..."

You pulled him up against you, fumbling to pull your sweatpants up in the meantime. You let him drop his head on your shoulder as you did the same. Your mouth found the pulse point on his neck, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your lips.

You looked at the counter, observing the wonderful mess you had made. "Look at that, Stevie...your gingerbread men aren't so naked anymore", you grinned, picking up one of the cookies that was covered in cum and bringing it to his mouth. He took a large bite, savoring your familiar taste.

"Delicious...", he hummed, looking at you in adoration. You couldn't help but pull him in for a passionate kiss, tasting the sweetness of his cookies and the saltiness of your...icing.

"I think you deserve to open one of your Christmas presents early, what do you think?"

"Yeah?", he blushed and you nodded, taking his hand and pulling him to the living room.

"Say, Stevie, have you been naughty or nice this year?" you smirked and you pushed your boyfriend back on the couch.

"Is that a trick question?" he grinned, making you smile.

"Hmm," you couldn't help but kiss him again before getting up and grabbing a neatly wrapped box from under the tree.

"Naughty and/or nice, you've definitely been my good boy this year", you praised.

Steve gently ripped open the packaging, his cheeks tinting red again as he saw what you had gifted him. It was a navy blue, vibrating stroker.

"Do you like it?", you asked, grinning when Steve nodded franticly.

"Wanna try it?", you asked, trying to contain the twinkle in your eyes.

He nodded again, this time a bit more shy.

"You want uh...do you wanna...or...you want me to...uhm...", he stuttered, making you chuckle before leaning in closer.

"I wanna use it on you, Stevie, if that's okay?"

"Y-yeah, yes, absolutely."

His enthusiasm alone made your cock stir again.

"That's my good boy," you mumbled against his lips, "take off your pants and play with yourself while I go get the lube,"

Steve's pants hit the floor before you even made it out of the living room. When you got back, merely a couple seconds later, you found him panting on the couch with his cock in his hand.

"Merry Christmas indeed," you stated, dropping down next to him. Your hand quickly took over from his, pumping him a couple times until he was a moaning mess.

"Turn around", you commanded and he obeyed immediately, giving you a clear view of his shaven asshole.

"Fuck, you know, I hate it when they call this America's ass. This is my ass, all mine," you grumbled, giving his cheek a good squeeze followed by a light smack.

"Ah...yes, daddy, all yours, please touch me, daddy", he pleaded.

"Yeah? Want me to touch you? Want daddy to fill your stocking, hm?"

Steve couldn't help but giggle a little at your awful pun, earning him another spank.

"Shut up," you chuckled, before reaching to grab the lube and applying a good amount on his bare hole and your fingers.

Steve moaned loudly as you slid a finger inside, prepping him for your hardening cock. You slowly worked him open, adding another finger while your other hand gently traced his skin.

"Ready for my cock, Stevie?" you questioned after a couple minutes, noticing he was getting harder and more desperate.

"Yes, please...please"

You used some more lube to cover your cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it to Steve's hole. Slowly but steadily you slid inside him. Both of you let out a string of whines and groans, your hands holding onto his hips as you fucked him slowly from behind.

You gave him some time to adjust before you grabbed the toy, adding a little bit of lube to that as well.

"C'mere, Stevie, lean up a bit...like this", you gently grabbed his shoulder, making him lean his back against your chest so you had easier access to his smoothly-shaven cock. The toy slid over him with ease.

"Oh shit, daddy!" he moaned when you turned up the vibrations, stroking the toy while starting to fuck into him again.

"Fuck, baby, doing so good, my good boy", you praised as you picked up the pace, positively destroying his asshole.

Your free hand roamed over his strong, hairless chest, pinching his nipple in the process.

"Ah, f-fuck..." he stuttered, his head lulling back against your shoulder.

you chuckled, "You like it when I play with your nipples, hmm? Such a desperate little slut...look at you, I've only just started and your cock is already leaking", you taunted, feeling the sticky drops land on your fingers.

"Please, daddy...fuck, that feels so good..."

That was your cue to turn up the vibrations, making Steve keen in pleasure. His hands for your arms, trying to keep himself grounded.

You angled your hips up a little, hitting his spot perfectly.

"Fuuucckk, daddy, right there! Please please please can I cum? Can I cum please m'so close...", he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"Cum for me you fucking slut, cum for me while I fuck your ass."

And he did. Hard.

Steve's cum shot out of his dick in thick ropes, covering his own stomach and chest.

You fucked him roughly through his high, before discarding the toy and pulling out of him.

"Turn around!" you roared, as you jerked yourself off at a fast pace, ready to tumble over the edge.

Steve clumsily dropped to his knees, just in time to catch the hot spurts of cum all over his face.

You yelled out his name, screwing your eyes shut as pleasure consumed you.

"Fucking hell..." you huffed out. Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with an absolutely ruined Steve, leaning exhausted against the couch, covered in both your and his own cum.

You dropped down beside him, pulling him close. "You did so good for me, you're so hot, so perfect...", you mumbled, trying to bring him back down to earth with sweet words and gentle kisses.

"You okay?", you asked, taking in his fucked out look.

"Hmm", was all he could muster, looking at you with a dopey grin plastered all over his face.

"Looks like you got a white Christmas this year, huh?", you grinned.

"Oh, shut up", he chuckled, playfully hitting your shoulder.

The two of you cuddled for a while after that, before taking a nice hot shower together. Though in hindsight, that might have been a bit pointless, since Steve still had to give you his gift too....

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior

#steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #captain america #steve rogers #smut #fluff #Christmas

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weenwrites · 10 months

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Cooking A Meal: Part 2

Summary - You ask one of the cons to cook you a meal, but honestly it goes about as well as you'd expect. Characters - Megatron, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, Dreadwing, Knockout, Breakdown, Airachnid, Predaking, Darksteel, Skylynx Content - Crack Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: This is an un-revised shitpost, not something too serious.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

Don't even bother having him try to cook you something, he can't cook at all. More often than not he'll just send some vehicon off to fetch you a meal, but when he's actually put in a kitchen and told to cook a meal, he'll probably serve you a plate of charred... Stuff.

It reeks and honestly you can't even tell what it used to be. The most he knows about cooking is that humans always heat up their food. He doesn't know how cooked a piece of meat or a slice of bread has to be, and despite knowing how useful patience is, he can't bring himself to wait a couple minutes for a slice of bread to turn golden brown.

Even with some instructions he doesn't understand a single word on that page. What does "fold in the cheese" even mean?! All in all, the food tastes awful, the presentation is awful, and it's not even a nice experience, he somewhat cleans his mess, but still, it's an awful experience. Even your local fast food restaurant would serve something better than what he could make you.

Shockwave

He wouldn't be too bad at cooking... However the meal he's served you is most likely made from some artificial substitute... It's not bad, per say, and it has a higher nutritional value than everything in your kitchen combined, but... He didn't stand in a kitchen to make it, he stood in a lab and fabricated it. That aside, it's plain and has a bit of a weird taste, the presentation sucks, and it's not naturally made, it was fabricated in a laboratory. It counts as science. Not cooking. So nevermind, he'd be bad at cooking.

But if he were to cook, he'd get into the technicalities of all, and spout food science facts at you. He'd tell you all about how proteins in meat force out moisture through coagulation, and that's how meat cooks. Or how amino acids and simple sugars are rearranged to change the color of meat as it cooks. Unless you know about food science yourself, all it may sound like some scientific garble to you. Whether you implore him to continue or not is all up to you.

But just because he knows about the chemical composition of a cracker doesn't mean he knows how to make things taste good. He chooses things based on their nutritional value, not their taste. Everything from meal portions, to seasonings, to even the temperature it was cooked at is all carefully measured to ensure that you're getting your healthy fill of nutrients. He doesn't even allow you to season it afterwards, because any more seasoning would disturb the healthy balance.

Still, while it may be nutritious, it certainly isn't delicious, but at least it's 100% edible and extremely healthy.

Starscream

He didn't know humans cooked their food, he thought they just ate it as is. So you'll have to explain a lot of stuff to him before either of you actually get anywhere. But once he gets the basics down, he'll be off to a rough, yet good start!

He's very particular about the way things are organized in a kitchen, and he'll get real annoyed if you moved something like a spatula or a spoon he was using. He's sorta set up this organization system in the kitchen that works specifically for him and no one else. While it may look like a mess on the outside, it works really well for him.

He'd never touch raw meat, even if it were to cook for you. He just hates the feeling, so you'd basically have no luck at getting him to scrub a chicken down with salt and seasoning unless you gave him a pair of gloves or a brush. But even if he's a bit squeamish, he's very thorough with his work, and very patient too. But he does complain about how long it takes for things to prepare things and then cook.

Might be a bit burnt here, and a bit bland over there, but if you pick some parts out and sprinkle some salt, pepper, spice, or hot sauce on it, it makes for a solid-ish meal! Which is pretty impressive, given the fact he once knew nothing about cooking a few hours ago.

Soundwave

They're actually a really good chef, better than everyone else, that's for sure. Soundwave knows where and how to learn what he needs to know, so it wouldn't take long for him to research and grasp the bare bones of cooking. And after a couple of tries, they could definitely whip you up a 5 star meal that tastes like something the best chef in the world would make.

It's almost scary how fast he learns, but hey at least you're getting like one of the best meals in the world using cheap ingredients from your fridge. Like who knew ketchup could taste so good in place of fancy marinara sauce!

And because of the amazing meal he made, it's without a doubt that he is the undisputed best chef aboard the Nemesis and everybody else's skills immediately pale in comparison. If it were a competition, it would've been over the moment they joined.

Dreadwing

Like almost everyone on this list, he has no idea what to do, and he has no idea what humans eat, so it ends up being a bit of a lecture before he actually starts cooking. It might take him a bit, and he'll stumble here and there, but he's always quick to ask good questions to ensure he has a solid grasp on what he needs to do.

He's quick to pick up anything you teach him, like about cutting vegetables, or seasoning meals, temperature, et cetera. And in a while, he's able to follow a recipe rather well, only occasionally coming to you to ask a question about what "folding" or "basting" or "al dente" means.

He'd serve you a pretty solid meal all in all. But on the off-chance that what he made for you had caused you to get sick, he'd immediately and sincerely apologize to you, and most likely never make you a meal ever again.

Knockout

He has some knowledge around human cooking thanks to the internet, and it helps the slightest bit, but for the most part he'll be bugging you with all his questions about human cuisine and cooking.

And all the while he's cooking, he'll ask you to fetch him things like that kitchen knife over there, or that measuring cup—no, not that one. That one was used for wet ingredients, he needs the other one that was used for dry ingredients, now chop chop. The clock's ticking. Or he'll holler at you to come and help hold the bowl as he scrapes the mixture into another pan.

Surprisingly, the kitchen actually remains rather nice and orderly throughout it all. He fills your sink with water and just leaves the dirty dishes in there to soak, and cleans messes the instant they're made, which greatly helps with clean-up afterward! But he won't touch the dishes. He just hates the feeling of scrubbing grimy food off, so you're on your own unless you give him a pair of gloves.

But as for the food itself? It's... Semi-decent! He may have burned it a little, or messed up one of the steps, but it still tastes good and it's still edible. He even decorates it nicely! He'd chop any vegetables into cute little shapes, and he has a good eye for presentation. So it's pretty nice.

Breakdown

He doesn't know anything about human cooking. He does question where the heck human food comes from though, and the most he knows is that humans consume other organisms, which he finds really weird. So in the beginning, the whole cooking session might be more of an educational session than anything, but only so he understands what humans can eat and what he should be doing.

He technically doesn't do any cooking since he just makes you things like instant noodles or instant mac n' cheese. But he'll need a bit of supervising because with the noodles, he'll put the seasoning packet in the water while the noodles are cooking, and then drain the noodles because he thought that the noodles would absorb the flavor (same goes for the mac n' cheese), but it turns out that the cheese water just goes down the drain. So it technically isn't completely his fault that the food may taste off (because instant food doesn't always taste that good...) but he does mess some of the steps up which contributes to that.

But with a little guidance here, and a little trial and error there, he'll actually be able to whip up something pretty decent using the instant stuff as a base! He'll add things like chopped up vegetables or spice for some flavor in some instant ramen, or cook the macaroni in milk and add some mustard for mac n' cheese, or perhaps crack an egg and add some garlic into some insta-soup.

All in all, it's a pretty solid meal for his first time cooking. But does it really technically count as cooking if he used an already pre-made thing to make it?

Airachnid

If she didn't care about you as much as she does, she would've fed you something poisonous if she didn't ignore your request first. She's... A questionable cook... To say the least, but one thing's for sure, all the meat she uses in her cooking is fresh. And I mean fresh as in "she dragged that animal into the kitchen and slaughtered it on the spot" kind of fresh, which is ideal if you're eating something that requires super fresh meat like oysters.

She doesn't burn the food, but she most likely under-cooks it. As for seasoning, well, she doesn't add any, so whatever you're eating will need a whole lot of salt, pepper, and spices either to taste like something, or to distract from the horrible taste the food already has.

But while the food may taste weird, the presentation's interesting. It's something of an art, made from something you don't even think you can call "food" anymore, but it's interesting to look at.

All in all, the food tastes horrible, the presentation's neat, and you're 100% guaranteed to get food poisoning if you scarf the entire meal down (which you won't, the stench is bad enough to kill even flies).

Predaking

He can't cook at all—actually, he doesn't even know what humans eat, so you'll have to explain to him quite a lot. Even then, he'll probably just bring you a dead animal and assume that's enough. You'll actually have to lecture him on cooking meat, preparing ingredients, and whatnot. So this whole thing turns into a cooking lesson as opposed to doing actual cooking.

He soaks all that knowledge up like a sponge, and with his newfound knowledge of cooking he's able to make something relatively decent for you, if not leaning more towards mediocre! The meal is something simple, probably from a cookbook you have at your house (or on the internet...)

All in all, while it's below average, it's probably above-par by your standards, given the fact you just taught him how to cook a hot second ago. The presentation is simple, the food actually tastes good, so all in all it's a pretty average meal.

Darksteel

Surprise, surprise! He is the worst cook out of them all. And here you might have thought that Predaking or Airachnid would've been the worst, but nope. It's him. He'd most likely burn your kitchen down, if not trash everything you have, and waste everything you have in your fridge. The best he does is bring you a dead animal that he "cooked" by spewing fire at it. Then again it's most likely either overcooked or undercooked and would definitely give you trichinellosis, E. coli, BSE, salmonella, or whatever other horrible disease you risk contracting by eating what he's served you.

But what about vegetables? He doesn't even know what a vegetable is, and unless you give him a really thorough description of what counts as a vegetable or not, he'd most likely just uproot a tree or pluck a bush out from the ground and give it to you, mildly scorched, because he remembered that you have to cook it.

If you were to ask him about presentation, he'd probably pose the scorched cattle or chicken he got his claws on, set the crisp "vegetables" upright, and think that's good enough "presentation".

Bottom line? Do not eat anything he gives you, it'll absolutely destroy your stomach.

Skylynx

Yeah he doesn't want to. He'd hate cooking so much because everything takes so long to do! He's sensible enough to do some research and learn, or ask you questions for clarification, but waiting for water to boil just drives him crazy.

He tries to work diligently and be patient, but you might catch him cutting corners a little bit. How so? Well, he'd raise the temperature of the stove to get something to cook faster, or if he needs to carefully ground something into a poultice, he'll just smush it into paste. If you're having something simple like mashed potatoes, then he has absolutely no problem preparing that.

He doesn't pay much attention to how it looks, so while the food he serves looks unappetizing as he straight up slaps it onto your plate, it actually tastes pretty decent... Ish... Decent-ish. Sure your food may have come out a bit burnt, or you might find some weird chunks in it, but it's better than what Darksteel has to offer, that's for sure.

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

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For the baker boys, what if reader tried out a new recipe one day and just absolutely butchered it. Destroyed. Came out awful. And this isn’t the first time. She’s tried to get this right so many times and simply can’t seem to get the hang of it. I can see sans “teaching” her how but really just flexing, red teasing, and skull eating it and straight up lying to her face that it’s good.

Funnily enough, it's not unusual for Mc to try a recipe and completely fuck it up. She just isn't blessed with the gift of baking.

Sans: He's generally more accepting of the fact that baking just isn't her strong suit. She appreciates his honest approach, he doesn't try to turn her into something she's not. He can always tell how she's feeling about her attempt at cooking ending so terribly, and he responds appropriately- when she's not bothered about it and clearly finds it all funny, he cracks jokes and pretends to die from eating it, making her laugh until she's crying. But when she's genuinely upset that yet another cake came out underbaked, cracked or burnt, flat or misshapen, generally inedible... he's calm. He doesn't quip or push.

... Usually, he asks her to make him a complicated coffee. Pulling it off flawlessly makes her feel a lot better.

Red: He's one of those bakers who can look at her failed creation and instantly know what she did wrong. She has no idea how he tells so quickly. A single glance, and he's got her all figured out. "you opened the oven while it was cooking, didn't you?" "... Y-yeah. Just once..." "doll. that takes all the air outta it." Unlike Sans' more 'live and let live' approach, Red does his best to teach her some tips and tricks if he can tell she's open to it at that moment. Don't open the oven while it's baking, wait until your ingredients are room temperature, put a lil' drop of lemon in your eggs to make the meringue whip faster... Red's got the magic touch of someone who knows exactly what he's doing. When they cook together, she's much less flustered and confused, and everything winds up great. Plus, baking is a perfect time to flirt.... though if he says 'nice buns' again he might get a spatula to the jaw.

Skull: It's a real effort to get Skull to not eat what she bakes. When she makes something crap, she has to either hide it or literally run for it, because Skull will have some. She doesn't understand why he'll turn down nice store sandwiches to eat whatever hot garbage she pulled out of the oven.

... There's a few reasons. A big one is not wanting to waste food. But honestly, it's mostly because he really does like what she makes. Her cakes, though not exactly a visual treat, are full of her emotions and labour. He loves her so much, and her food is like an extension of her. It doesn't matter how bad it tastes because as soon as he chews it he feels warm knowing it's hers.

... He also wants to show her that no matter how bad she thinks it is, just because it's imperfect doesn't mean it's impalatable.

Someone will always like it.

#llamagines #mc is that princess peach letter #“skull- please do not look in the fridge i have baked an absolutely dogshit cake. completely fucked it up. dont eat it it might kill you”#several times mc THINKS shes successfully hidden her crappy cake #then she comes into the kitchen first thing in the morning and turns on the light #only to find skull sitting at one of the counters midway through it

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for telling my mom I would blow up her entire household and myself in a gas explosion if my parents built me a house to live in?

TW for descriptions of child abuse and suicide mention

I (22NB) cut off my abusive father (mid40M) and left home when I turned 18. I'm going to call him Harry (fake name) from now on because I'm going to have to talk about him a lot. When covid lockdowns started I had to leave home because I phsyically could not be in the same room as Harry without fully disassociating and would constantly have homicidal thoughts, suicidal thoughts and panic attacks just hearing him walk around the house or talk from locked away in my bedroom. Growing up Harry would phsyically and verbally abuse me, he's thrown me out of a window and locked me outside of the house, pinned me to the ground and stabbed me in the back of the neck with a pair chopsticks, slapped me, kicked me while I was curled up on the ground and so on. My mom (mid40F) would watch all these things and never did anything to stop the abuse, his abuse started ramping down when my little brother was born (12M) so most of these things happened to me from 6 years old to being 10. Harry has never been phsyically and verbally abusive towards my mom or my siblings I was his only victim at home.

I developed a slew of mental illness traits the main of which being diagnosed cPTSD from this abusive upbringing. I also ended up developing a phsyical disability that limits my mobility when I was turning 20, I live alone and the house I live in is extremely unaccessible and even dangerous for me to live in. Because of this I am still in regular contact with my mom getting her help with things I can't manage to do on my own due to my disability. Her and Harry are planning to move out to the countryside and have a house built there so I am aware I won't be able to rely on her for too many years longer. One day she mentions to me that apparently they had been planning to build me a small house tucked away at the back of their property for me to live in so she could keep taking care of me. I'd never heard of this plan before and never asked for anything like this.

First of all I found it incredibly demeaning to build a little doghouse out of sight to keep your traumatized disabled child like an unwanted pet only kept around out of pity and some sense of responsibility, my mom comes from a culture where its the norm to treat disabled people like this and make sure they are unseen but I did not appreciate it. Second of all this would literally be the most nightmarish scenario for me to live through possible, I can't drive I don't have a car and there is no public transport or delivery services for food and grocceries at all outside of the capital of my country. My mom doesn't drive either so she would put me in a scenario where literally every single aspect of my life would become completely dependent on my transphobic abuser that I still get full blown PTSD episodes even just thinking about. My house, my food, where I can go and getting to the doctor would all become completely at the mercy of Harry in this situation. This is when I told my mom if put in this situation I would blow up all of us in a gas explosion to escape it because that's how awful living through that would be.

She didn't really react to me saying I would blow all of them up if this happens because I use exaggerated violent language often, she just called me ungrateful. While it was mainly to express just how bad this situation would be for me it was also somewhat meant as a threat, due to my disability I've had other family members try to get me declared legally incompetent so they could get a government caregiver from me. My parents could absolutely use the law to force me into this housing situation even as an adult, it was partially a threat because I wanted it in their heads that it a bad idea for them to do this to me, realistically I would just commit suicide to escape it instead. My cPTSD makes me incapable of having grounded thoughts and reactions to the things that trigger it, I know my mental problems make me an asshole a lot of the time but I just want to live my shitty life as painlessly as possible for however long I've got left.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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bedtimegiraffe · 3 months

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Here's my little essay about King Arlan (and a little bit about Baldur) and their complicated relationship with ruling effectively.

Arlan, the (overall) very good king

King Arlan is keeping the kingdom running well

In the very first lore tablet, you learn that, "King Arlan Valleros VII currently sits on the throne. Known as the Gentle King, Arlan has reigned over a period of great peace and prosperity."

Periods of great peace and prosperity are not easy! It's a combination of luck, delegating effectively, and putting in a ton of administrative work to make sure the laws and policies work for the unique situation your nation is in at this moment. That stuff does not happen on accident.

Based on Aerin's statements that he never really saw his father, I'm assuming Arlan keeps busy with actually running the country. We never see Arlan show interest in hunting or any vices that would take similar amounts of time. I also don't get the sense that Arlan and Baldur are always like, hanging out. And we don't interact with many administrators, making him seem pretty hands-on.

King Arlan knows how to maintain an image

When you return from the Shadow Realm...

King Arlan is very savvy. Maybe he's sincere, who knows! But publicly honoring the heroes who saved your ass is a great way to get goodwill for yourself and make it so you no longer owe those heroes. Your party puts in quite a lot of work to save Morella and King Arlan just lets you take some weapons and armor no one was using anyway. Doesn't even send a single guard to help. Unlike Book 2...

Before the battle he does a great job making it seem like he's doing you a favor. Like you asked for his help and he's magnanimously granting it, even though the Ash Empire is very much coming to destroy his capital!

Which brings us to his take on Aerin being gone (assuming he was imprisoned previously)...

This is an awful thing to say about your son! But it's actually a pretty cunning move as a king. Arlan was absolutely right- his best move was to let Aerin go and hope he got killed. He gets to eliminate a problem making him look bad to the court (his son who committed murder and treason in a very public manner) and keep his reputation as a nice guy. He's the 'Gentle King,' not the 'Strong King' or 'Decisive King.'

And in the very unlikely (in his estimation) chance Aerin did come back alive and looking heroic, Arlan could keep him imprisoned indefinitely. Or (much less likely) he could say Aerin was corrupted before and use his success as an excuse to get one of his kids back in the line of succession. That's good for your ego and can help prevent a succession crisis if there isn't a super clear heir in place (which seems to be the case currently).

Overall, (and completely separate from him being a horrendous father) it seems to be like Arlan is actually a very good king. But there is one part of the job he sucks at...

Arlan's fatal flaw is that he is terrible at reading people.

'Baldur's great, no concerns!'

Obviously, we know that thinking that Baldur is going to be a good king is stupid.

But why didn't King Arlan know that? Aerin (who does seem to be pretty good at reading people) says he's, "handsome, bold, outgoing." Those things are all great for winning people over!

But not nearly enough to actually run a country. We know Baldur's not really even trying to have any of the practical, administrative skills that requires. And this system does not seem set up to function with a figurehead.

You know that tutor must have clocked that Baldur was asleep! It was probably common knowledge at the palace that Baldur never learned a damn thing. Either Arlan didn't realize his heir was not gaining any practical ruling skills (bad sign) or he didn't care (also a bad sign).

Even monarchs who aren't invested in their kids as people are usually very invested in their education. Because that's how you make sure the wheels don't fall off once you die, ending your glorious bloodline.

Aerin tells us that Baldur would never contradict their father. So Arlan absolutely could have forced him to read a damn book. But for some reason, he didn't.

'My second son sucks...

Arlan truly thinks that Aerin is useless. Which is a wild stance to take after you watched him kill big strong Baldur in a single blow and open a portal to the Shadow Realm.

Arlan got there a little late for Aerin's full villain monologue. But the second your party disappears through the portal, the smart thing would have been to determine if Aerin did any more damage. It didn't feel like it to Aerin, but he had tremendous access to people and resources. For all King Arlan knows, this could have been just one piece of a bigger plot.

And it was! Aerin admitted to corrupting dozens of people, usually very connected people. That's a ticking time bomb just waiting to cause more damage. One it doesn't seem like King Arlan ever looks into.

Arlan seems to just assume that Aerin can't cause damage because he's... not physically imposing? Because knowledge and connections are never a threat to power?

Pre-crisis, Aerin also talks about trying to smooth over Baldur's brash decisions. Having someone to soften the blow of harsh or unpopular decisions is absolutely crucial for any ruler, but especially one like Baldur. Yet Arlan doesn't seem to have any awareness of that either.

So Arlan at least picked up some vibes from Aerin that he was... something. Troubled could be 'miserable,' but this statement makes it feel more 'he creeps me out.'

-and I'm not worried about that.'

Even if Aerin was incompetent or messed up, King Arlan should have been concerned about that! Baldur is very strong and presumably good at not dying. But he throws himself into dangerous situations all the time for fun! There is a very good reason most monarchs don't stop at one kid if they can help it.

History is absolutely littered with examples of people who inherited a throne and ran things into the ground because they didn't have the ability to manage the amount of power they had effectively. If Arlan thought Aerin could fall into that category, he should have had people working around the clock to get him up to standard just in case.

Instead, King Arlan fully ignored Aerin, letting him just haunt the archives like a depressed ghost.

'The Heroes of Morella obviously agree with me, they're important!'

King Arlan makes the assumption, based on your party's status, that you'll agree with him on the 'complicated politics' of executing your own kid. Because you're not 'commoners.' Your party includes one elven noble, one orcish (until like 2 days ago) princess, and one human with a very prominent position in the Temple. Mal is more under the radar, but he was still proclaimed a hero. And your character is the most Hero of all.

So Arlan basically does that thing some people do where they trash talk a marginalized group, because everyone in the room looks like they belong to the majority group, so why would they object? (Never a good look.)

But Mal and Nia are both, at least to you, visibly angry with Arlan for being excited his son is (presumably) dead.

Still, no effort to backtrack or soften the blow from King Arlan. Just sails right over the dude's head that Mal looks pissed and Nia is using her damn customer service voice.

Seriously, King Arlan should probably keep an eye out for Mal... Not a big monarchist, that one.

Bonus Baldur, the tremendous idiot

The fact that Baldur thinks he's the first of his name, when "Baldur Valleros" literally founded his dynasty, is incredibly funny to me. Such ignorance. Such hubris.

I am not about to give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe Baldur I went straight to being king, so our dumbass is the first "Prince Baldur Valleros." His father is Arlan VII, there's no way no other king has named their heir after the founder of the dynasty. More evidence that he has never once learned a thing.

(Don't worry about Kade- he took a shadow lance to the face but he's fine. He's mostly fine. Feel free to look at my older posts if you're curious how that went down.)

Baldur seems to make the same assumptions about people based on their status as his father. I don't think it's an accident that when Baldur wants to tell gross stories (including the phrase "slum girls"), he immediately grabs Mal, the human man. Mal isn't all that subtle about his disdain for the nobility, but he still looks like the best one for Baldur to win over. Mal is also the one who steps up and negotiates for the group, making him look like the leader- even more Baldur catnip.

#blades of light and shadow #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow 2 #aerin valleros #arlan valleros #king arlan #baldur valleros #mal valori #kade #kade of riverbend #*tries to hold back a tide of examples from British history*#I am overwhelmed by the desire to psychoanalyze fictional characters #It would fill me with rage but I would love to be a fly on the wall pre-Dreadlord crisis with this family #Or talk to a servant! Did the common people actually like Baldur? Did they seriously give PRINCE Aerin zero acknowledgement?#Is Baldur handsome? I know I have a type but Aerin would be the one to catch my eye every time

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stxrvel · 10 months

Text

closer

summary: reader has had many losses in her life, and when she meets Bucky she thinks she's found the one, until life proves otherwise.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!f!reader

words: 4k

warnings: some bad words and angst? also some miscommunication, past trauma, reader letting her past dominate her out of fear, a somewhat slow and indecisive Bucky, no happy ending.

note: i was in front of the computer all day thinking about what i could write, looking for information from everywhere, and this is what finally came out. it's almost three o'clock in the morning. i think i definitely write after midnight. let me know what you think of this piece, i'm not quite sure how it came out. i'll be happy to read your comments tomorrow, feedback is always appreciated! for now, i'm going to rest! love you all and thank you for reading!! <3

there's no part two

You were being indifferent. You were trying to be indifferent. Bucky would talk to you only to talk about the missions, about the objectives and about trivial things like the weather, and you were trying to be indifferent. You'd been on that mission for a week, and you were failing terribly. Sometimes you were so dry when you responded to him that he just frowned at you with a confused look on his face. It was awful. You had never been through so much grief than when he asked you if you were okay, in front of the rest of the group.

Maybe you should put that act aside and start dealing with what was really important.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes.

And well, that should be normal. Innocent. Warm. But the truth was, you were afraid to acknowledge those feelings. You wanted to forget them, reject them and never have them around again. Or maybe you could let them out. Let the receiver of the message know what was going on and maybe with the rejection you could move on. But no, you were too afraid. You had clung too tightly to people throughout your life and that had never ended well. And yet, despite all the sadness and disappointments, you were still walking through life with your heart in your hand.

Not learning from the mistakes of your past had led you to where you were. You always thought you were making the best decisions, you were guided by that feeling, but those decisions had led you down a lousy path.

Bucky was talking. His lips were moving and from his throat came the words you weren't hearing. It had become a habit to get so lost in your thoughts that you lost yourself entirely from reality. It had cost you a couple of wake-up calls before, and now, seeing Bucky's expression, it looked like you were going to get another one.

Many of those days, you wished you could go back to the way everything was in the beginning, before your heart and your loneliness intruded on the equation. When you shared pleasant chats with Bucky, when you were a perfect duo on missions, when you ate in silence in the big kitchen of the Complex, when he accompanied you in the evenings to watch movies.

Everything was so much easier when you stayed away from people sentimentally, when you didn't want to see them more often, when you didn't want to tell them every single thing that happened in your day, when your heart didn't race just because your looks collided, when you didn't openly want to have someone's company in the solitude of the nights. Your life was so much easier when you didn't compromise with your feelings, and life had shown you that. You had been living well for months, alone, even when you came to the team and a couple of months later everything was fine. You didn't really know at what point things started to deteriorate.

“That's it,” the man in front of the table dismissed the rest of the team and kept his gaze on yours, as if that way he could keep you sitting quietly. And it was working. You hated that it did.

When the last person left the room and it was just you and Bucky inside the room, it seemed like the walls got a lot smaller around you.

“Are you okay?” he was the first to speak.

“Yeah, sure, why?”

“It's seemed to me that you've been a little distracted these days.”

“No, no, not at all, I'm fine.”

“If you need to talk to someone…” Bucky paused, his gaze flitting across the place, and your heart leaping wildly in your chest, “…I think Sam's making small talk.”

Ah.

“Ah, I see,” you mused, trying to keep your tone normal, “Thank you.”

“Let me know when you do, and you'll be back in the field.”

“What?”

Bucky stopped at your exclamation, pausing halfway to the door. His brow was furrowed and you were sure his confused look matched yours.

“Didn't you hear everything I said earlier?”

You avoided his gaze. You had told him not long ago that you weren't being distracted and of course that lie was going to come back to you soon.

Bucky sighed, his shoulders languid at his sides. His medium-length hair fell over his eyes as he ducked his head, and with his right hand he rubbed his eyes. You missed when you allowed yourself to share smiles with him, which now seemed like distant memories from other lives.

Only when he looked at you again did you realize the weariness that dominated his face.

“You're not going on missions for a while,” he finally said, and you were about to protest when he added, “Direct order from Fury.”

“Bucky-”

“I'm sorry, Y/N, but I can't risk your safety or the safety of the team or the mission because you're not well now.”

“I'm fine. I swear!”

“You're not.”

You snort. “You only see a quarter of what I do on a daily basis.”

“And that's enough to know that Fury made the right decision.”

“What the hell do you people know about right decisions?” you muttered angrily to yourself, turning your head away.

“What did you just say?” Bucky turned back entirely, his face much more disgruntled than before.

Fuck. You'd forgotten he had good hearing.

“Just… Just leave it at that. It's okay. I'll let you know when I talk to Sam.”

You took a deep breath before standing up and matching the path of the man in front of you. His frown was still furrowed, his tense posture a clear indication that he wasn't exactly pleased with what you had said. You were close enough to catch the scent of his shampoo, but not too close to be able to decipher what was going through his head. You were never too close.

“Anything else to say?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, you couldn't decide if because of your closeness or because of how coarse your words came out, as they always did for the last couple of days.

“No.”

And without further ado, he left the room.

---

As much as you wanted to get back in the field, get back to having missions and serving for something on the team, you couldn't find the strength within yourself to talk to Sam. Maybe because he was an acquaintance and it would be weird to tell him everything you were carrying and then pretend nothing had happened. You were too self-aware to be able to do that. It also came into play that it had been almost years since you last came clean with someone, and that didn't really go well. Talking to Sam, at that time, for you, was not the solution.

Maybe the only solution was to sort out your feelings for Bucky. That was what kept you on edge. That was what made you question the life you had formed over the past few years. In any other situation or time in your life, surely a man would not move you so much; however, you knew you were facing a situation you could not repeat. That you did not want to repeat.

The stark reality of the feelings you had for him was like a dagger to the heart, because you felt you had finally found a place where you belonged, where you could be; you felt you had found a home. But it was hard to live in a place like that without making a sentimental commitment to the people around you, and you knew it. You'd only fallen easily for Bucky because…. fuck, he was so caring, so thoughtful, so kind. On the outside he looked like he wanted everyone around him to disappear, but it only took you a couple of chats to understand that he really did have a big, welcoming heart.

The reality of your feelings was the end of you, because it was something you couldn't afford. You couldn't go on living there if you didn't fix that soon. You couldn't risk it again.

“Hey.”

Speaking of…

“Hi.”

Your stoic reply made him turn his head.

You were in the kitchen, sunk deep in thought in a strange calm, when Bucky showed up after three days without seeing him. You knew they had been on a mission, Natasha had told you some things. Internally, you were glad to see that they had arrived without any complications. You were glad to see that Bucky was okay.

“How are you?”

“All good.”

“You sure?”

“Why do you ask?”

You turned your gaze from your now cold coffee to the clear eyes of the man who had pulled a bottle of water from the cooler.

“Just curious.”

Hold on. Don't see beyond what he shows you.

You sighed before replying, “If what you really want to know is if I've talked to Sam, the answer is no.”

“Why?”

You picked up the white cup in front of you and absentmindedly began stirring the liquid inside it.

“I don't think I'd feel comfortable talking to him.”

You felt Bucky move around the kitchen, until he came to the island where you were sitting and sat down across from you with his bottle. You looked up to meet his blue eyes focused directly into yours. He had such a deep gaze that, for a moment, you almost allowed yourself to think beyond what he was giving you. For a second, you felt like you were in a space that was too intimate.

“And who would you feel comfortable talking to?”

You.

You hated that you didn't even need less than a second to think about it. You had the answer so clear it hurt…..

“What?”

You looked at his eyes and raised eyebrows. Fuck.

“Did I say it out loud?”

“Yeah...”

You growled in frustration. You ran your hands through your hair as Bucky spoke again, “I didn't think you held me in such high regard.”

“Really?”

“You barely even look at me lately.”

That was true. But it was for your sake. It was all for your sake. Or at least that's what you wanted to convince yourself of. You'd rather think that than the fact that your limbs ached just from wanting to get closer to him in the middle of his everyday, when he came back injured from missions and you wanted to help him heal his wounds because you knew enough to be a nurse, or help him release tension when he got too stressed out because something went wrong on a mission or they lost track of someone. You just wanted to be a person who could be present in his life. Who could be close. Closer.

“It's because I'm going through something right now.”

“And that something is my fault?”

You pursed your lips. Maybe.

“No.”

Bucky let out a short laugh.

“Those eyes say otherwise.”

“Is there something pointed you want to know, Bucky?”

“Argh,” the man twisted his expression, as if in weariness, and turned his head away. “There's that coldness again.”

You hardened your gaze as much as you could, even though all you wanted to do was let go of the string of thoughts eating away at your head; even though you just wanted to use those arms as a sheet at night so you could sleep in a safe place.

“Okay. I'm sorry,” Bucky held up his hands, retracting under your gaze. “I'd like to know, if like you said you'd rather talk to me than Sam, what's been keeping you beside yourself the last few days?”

Mmm, tough question. You took a deep breath trying to think of a quick answer, but it was difficult having his watchful eye on every millimeter of your face. Would it be too bad to tell the truth? Your past experiences said yes, but… what if it was different with him? It had been too long, he could not be the same as the others…

You shouldn't, the rational part of your brain repeated alarmingly, but he seemed so willing to truly listen to you that you couldn't pass up the opportunity. You didn't want to.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the end of your cycle of bad luck and bad death that had haunted and burdened you for as long as you could remember. Maybe Bucky was the start of something new.

At least you hoped so. You were trying to convince yourself.

“I do what I do because I've lost too many people to give up now. Fury found me in a pot, a city where there was nothing but chaos and hopelessness. I was trying to make things different, I wanted my hope to be enough to be able to remove the evil from the hearts of the people who hurt. But no, it was not enough. And I began to work alone because all the people who got too close to me died or decided to leave on their own, they abandoned me. I was too much to bear. The life I was leading was too much.

My mother died in a raid on my house. She was the first victim of my enemies' revenge. I thought that was enough pain a person could go through in a lifetime, but the deaths didn't stop. And sometimes I didn't know if it was worse that someone died because of me, or that my last memory of them was a look of contempt and their hateful words towards me like I was in some shit they didn't have to put up with or that I was draining their vitality, among many other things.

And the truth is, that has happened so many times that I don't even try to maintain relationships with people anymore. Any kind of relationship. And every time I feel like that's going to happen, I have to leave, because I can't stand the pain of a death or a disappointment anymore. When a person leaves, willingly or unwillingly, it's not something you get used to as time goes by. Loneliness is good, but too much of anything is bad. And even though after a while you long for the company, you know you can't risk it once again because everything is at stake. Those are already things that are way beyond me, that I wish I could control, but I can't.”

You loved and hated the way those words had rolled out of your mouth like butter. It had been a while since you had been that honest with someone, because that last person had walked out on you. After listening to you, after telling you that you could lean on their shoulder when you needed it, that person left as if they weren't breaking a promise; as if they hadn't taken a big chunk of your hope with them; as if they hadn't ripped out a little bit of that hope you still held in your heart.

And you hoped that with Bucky it would be different, because you believed that the two of you were meeting at a common ground through the darkness of your minds. From the beginning, Bucky had proven to be different. Even from before you suspected that he already knew what you had been through, because he often tiptoed around you. Bucky was not a distracted person, he was someone extremely intelligent and definitely someone who knew which people he could and could not relate to. He couldn't be the same as everyone else, because you knew he could understand you.

Or so you wanted to believe.

Bucky's eyes moved over the marble of the island, his lips half-opened and his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. You had been so sure about talking about it with him that you hadn't even given it a second thought, but if he went a few more seconds without responding, you would begin to regret it and devise an escape plan.

You wished you were a little closer to him so you could dare to ask what was going on in his head.

“Wow, that was…”

“Too much?”

“Deep, rather.”

You forced your lips into a smile, avoiding his clear eyes now that he had lifted his head and seemed to have organized his thoughts.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“No. No, it's okay. You needed to get that out. Mmm, how do you feel now?”

You hated the way he seemed to be testing the waters when it came to addressing you after everything you just said. Before he was always sure of what he was saying. What could have changed so quickly? Could it be that you were really wrong? No, that couldn't be.

“Pretty much the same.”

“Oh, I see. But do you think you can improve from now on?”

“Well, it's a problem of years. I doubt I can solve much with a little talk.”

“Ah, yes, of course, you're right.”

Bucky folded his hands together on the countertop, his gaze now avoiding yours and entering a tense silence.

“So…” Bucky spoke a couple of seconds later, “…at this point you feel like that? Like you developed one of those relationships with someone and now you want to run away?”

“Yes,” you answered almost instantly, because there was no reason really to hide it. You had already been crudely honest, so what was the point in continuing to lie?

“With whom?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe we could find a solution.”

“I doubt it.”

You narrowed your eyes as Bucky pursed his lips. You'd been through too much throughout your life, and one thing you'd definitely learned was how to read people. With so many disappointments and betrayals, you had to learn to identify a person's true intentions, and nothing else screamed intentions more than body language. You could identify when someone was comfortable with you, when they trusted you, and also when they were uncomfortable with your presence.

“And I think you doubt it too,” you added, after a couple of seconds watching him.

“Why do you say that?”

“You don't need me to tell you who I was referring to. I think you already know.”

“What?”

“You can do with that information what you want. Time will give me the answer.”

“Y/N…”

You stood up and walked out of the kitchen as if you hadn't just opened your heart to that man, your brow raised and your breathing deep. It seemed that in the end you weren't close enough to know the truth, and you couldn't be close enough in the future either.

---

A week went by and time kept proving you right. Bucky took a mission the day after your talk and still hadn't returned. You had begun to worry, but you didn't dare ask anyone on the team. You couldn't afford to be so obvious at such critical times.

However, asking could give you the last piece of information you needed to make a decision.

Because you still had a little bit of hope. You still hoped that Bucky would appear through one of the doors of the Complex to tell you that he understood, that he appreciated your honesty, and that he could walk that long road with you. You still hoped you were wrong, because you couldn't have made such a big mistake again. You couldn't have opened the doors of your mind to someone who was going to leave you because it was too much.

But as the hours passed you only confirmed that you weren't good enough for someone to stay by your side. You just weren't enough, you weren't worth the effort. Not even for someone like Bucky, who was one of the kindest and most condescending person you had ever met.

So you'd read it all wrong, and even though you were honest, you couldn't even come up with an answer.

But you preferred to get the doubt out of your mind at once, even if it threw you overboard.

Wanda Maximoff was in the control room when you arrived. No one else was there.

“Hey.”

She flipped over the chair and returned your greeting with a small smile.

“What brings you here?”

“Do you know how Bucky's mission is going?”

“Bucky's?”

Wanda frowned and promptly moved across the room to one of the computers where she typed rapidly. You shifted your legs in anticipation, shifting your weight trying to cope with your nerves.

“Bucky is… on an indefinite.”

“Indefinite?”

“Yes, it says so plainly. It was with Sam and Natasha. We don't have a date yet.”

Wanda watched you over her shoulder, and your expression had to have told her something because she quickly got up from her chair with a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, regaining power over your emotions. You sent her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Wanda.”

You barely and paced for a few seconds with bated breath when you heard her call out to you.

When your eyes met hers, you didn't like what you saw at all.

“You're leaving?”

“Stay out of my head.”

You turned around and ran to your room.

Of course you did. Of course you were going to leave. What the fuck did you expect from the talk with Bucky? That you could suddenly have a happy ending with a person who seemed to care about you? You should never have taken that job in the first place. You always knew it was a big risk, but Fury assured you that you could continue working on your own without getting too involved with others. The problem was when you thought you were past the feelings stage, that you could surround yourself with people without getting involved.

How fucking wrong you were.

You didn't take long to pack a suitcase. You didn't bother to write a letter of resignation either. Before you took the job, you told the Director that you were likely to one day just leave. That you would disappear. And he agreed to that. So you weren't going to bother with goodbyes, with absolutely nothing. You were going to carry that suitcase to a cab and leave without looking back. Because that was what you always did, for your sake, because it was the right thing to do, because you couldn't afford to take risks after so much suffering.

At that moment, as you packed the few things you had, you felt every memory of every abandonment and death come back to your head, filling you with fear and insecurity. Of sadness and anger. You didn't know how you had allowed yourself to go so far when you knew you shouldn't have, that this life was not for you, that these feelings were not meant for you to experience, that you didn't deserve to have a life like this. You allowed yourself to dream, but at the end of the day it was just that, a dream.

When you left the Complex, you took a cab directly to the airport. On the way, you were tempted too many times to ask the driver to turn back, thinking that maybe it was a hasty decision, that maybe you should wait for him to come back. But an indefinite mission could last weeks, even months, and you couldn't be on tenterhooks for so long only to get the same old answer at the end. You didn't want to risk it. The cost was too high.

It was better to root out those feelings while they were still fresh, and never allow them to grow again.

---

Bucky returned from his mission two weeks later and the first thing he did was run around looking for you in every corner of the Complex until he decided to go to your room. Seeing the empty closets made his heart sink.

“She's gone,” a female voice spoke behind him.

Wanda was leaning against the door frame.

“She thought you weren't coming back and left.”

“No…”

“I know it was wrong for me to snoop around in her head, but I had a feeling that would happen. I thought I could avoid it. But her thoughts were too ingrained. She was fighting uncontainable fear. Nothing I would have said would have convinced her to stay.”

Bucky turned to look at the empty closets, not a hint that you had ever been there. If it weren't for Wanda, the man would already be thinking you were just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry, Bucky.”

“Fuck. Damn it!”

Sitting on what had been your bed, Bucky kept thinking that the worst thing he could have done was to take that mission in Steve's stead, thinking he'd get there soon, thinking that way he could get his head together before talking to you again. But things got complicated and what was a two-day mission turned into a three-week mission.

Maybe he should have sought you out before he left instead of letting his thoughts eat away at him. Maybe he should have insisted a little more, should have come a little closer...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction

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evanslvr · 1 year

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So i know that you want some request so i have one! Can you do a tate langdon smut where he eats her out and like overstims her bc she was mad at him for something and he is angry 😤lol anyways yeag byeeeeeeeeeeeee

𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 - 𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑫𝑶𝑵

𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑨𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫

•••

𝒘𝒄: 𝟏𝟎𝟗𝟎

y/n perspective:

"Leave me alone, Tate." I said, sternly. "All I'm asking you is why." He says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "What the hell do you mean why? I have a life besides just sitting in this damn house with you!" He widened his eyes at my comment and I felt a little guilty. "So you're saying you don't want to talk to me anymore?" He questioned, with sadness evident in his voice. "Tate, I never said that. Why do you like twisting my words?" He stares at me with this glare that seemed upsetting.

"Jesus, you can't expect me to be with you twenty- four-fucking-seven!" As soon as I said that, he got angry. "I never said that you have to be around me twenty four seven! All I fucking did was ask you, 'Why are distant from me?' And you immediately started acting like a bitch!" I opened my mouth slightly, shocked about what he just called me.

"You know what, fuck you, Tate. All you do is annoy the fuck out of me with your constant clinginess! I can't go anywhere or do anything without you getting all sad and shit." I seemed to had hit a soft spot because Tate just looked at me. Not saying a single word, he just stares. I can't lie, it did freak me out. "Just leave, Tate.."

What seemed like less than a second, I felt him roughly forcing his hand around my neck and harshly putting his lips against mine. I didn't even have enough time to process what he just did, I tried pushing him off but he has such a tough grip on me. Since we were both sitting on the bed, he pushes me down against the mattress and climbs on top of me.

It felt extremely arousing for me. I gotta say...I love when he's the dominant one. "Tate," I whimper, closing my eyes. "Shut the fuck up." He says in a dominant tone. "I'm just so clingy, right?" He says with anger. He rips off my tank top, my bra and throws it off the bed along with my shorts; surprisingly for him, I had no panties on.

He smirks at me and chuckles lightly. He sucks on my neck roughly and slowly makes his way down to my breasts, fondling with them. He watched as they bounced up and down in awe, "You're such a beautiful whore for me, huh?" I moan lightly, feeling him lick my nipple. "Tate, please.." He immediately covered my mouth shut with his hand.

"If you make one more fucking noise..I swear I'll make you regret it. Do you understand me?" He growls into my ear. I nodded, not wanting to give him any more of reason to get angry with me. "I said, do you understand?" He says, more serious. "Yes, Tate." I groan, in response.

He then placed two fingers on my clit and I instantly feel my body start to heat up. Before I knew it, he was sucking my nipple and biting it hard. It felt like fire is being poured directly into my veins; the only thing that can calm me down would be him. i covered my mouth to try and refrain from any noise coming out by accident. God knows what tate'll do. I am pretty sure he has a lot of rage inside of him.

He moves his head down to my pelvis and soon to my pussy. I could feel myself becoming wetter by the moment. He takes his finger and rubs it around my pussy, teasing me for what seems like forever. Eventually, he spreads my legs wide and puts his head between my thighs and I moaned quietly once I felt his tongue on my clit.

I close my eyes, enjoying the pleasure. He continued licking me and I started to shake a little bit. His tongue was sending chills down my spine.

I look down at him, He was looking back at me with this expression that made me weak. I was scared he was going to stop if he saw how turned on I was. "Tate," I whimpered, "I'm sorry..."

"Tate, please..I can't take it anymore." I whined, and he runs his tongue up my slit. It feels so good, I can barely stand it. "Please, Tate.." I whisper, trying to keep my voice low. He ignores me completely, continuing to suck my clit and run his tongue up and down my slit. The feeling is overwhelming and I couldn't hold it in anymore, "Oh my God! Tate!" I scream out, feeling this blissful sensation take power over me.

I throw my head back, I was so tired to the point where I felt like I could fall asleep right there. But then I felt his tongue in my clit and my body instantly jolted forward again, this time much stronger. My whole body was shaking like crazy now and I closed my eyes tightly.

Tate looks up at me, watching me through half lids. I open my eyes and I see him looking at me with his intense eyes. I was so sensitive right now that just looking at him could send me to another world. I grab his hair and pulled on it. it felt so good that it hurt. I wanted to scream out loud. I was in total bliss.

He continues licking and sucking my clit until I felt a powerful orgasm. "Ahh!" I screamed out, feeling my whole body tense up. My body goes limp as I try to regain my regular heart rate. "Oh my God..Tate.." I gasp, throbbing from the aftershocks. I could still feel Tate's tongue still inside of me. He releases my clit and rolls off me, sitting next to me with his back against the bed.

I look at him weakly and he smirks. "Did I make you feel that good, baby?" He teases with a devilish grin on his face. "Fuck you.." I said, closing my eyes, not having enough strength to argue with him. "Aww, I love you too, Y/n.."

A/n: i kind of enjoyed this.

#ahs fanfic #evan peters #james patrick march #jimmy darling #kai anderson #kit walker #kyle spencer #rory monahan #tate langdon #evan peters smut #tate american horror story #tatelangdon #tate langdon smut

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shiplessoceans · 2 years

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I absolute love episode 5 "The best revenge is dressing well" because it could literally have been named "The unwitting seduction of Edward Teach by Stede Bonnet".

At the beginning of the episode, Blackbeard intends to kill this fancy man, disfigure him, take his ship and assume his identity. He sees Stede as a means to an end at that point, and he's desperate to stop living the life he is.

And then over the course of the episode, Stede does the following:

Pays attention to and shows an interest in Blackbeard's life and skills

Takes time to teach him etiquette while never being judgemental

Encourages him not to let himself be angered by a racist bully and mocks said bully in a language he understands (not a single tureen, honestly).

Makes an effort to check in with Ed to gently inquire about how he's feeling because he paid attention and noticed that Ed was hurt.

Explained the type of bullying and empathized with Ed that it IS diabolical and he is justified in feeling upset.

Agrees to go to a fancy party he's not interested in simply because Ed wants to.

Lends Ed clothes and finery so that he may blend in.

Escorts Ed into the party, making sure to check in with him and that he's comfortable and doesn't want to leave or isn't too overwhelmed. Warns Ed not to put too much stock in this crowds opinion of him.

Excuses himself as he is just not comfortable in the party situation, especially after being laughed at, but stays close by so that Ed doesn't have to leave and has backup if he needs it.

Is outraged on Ed's behalf when the rich people hurt his feelings, never once saying 'I told you so.'

Though we have never seen Stede stand up to or defend himself against the upper crust society types, he tells Ed to stand down (probably to prevent further humiliation) and instead gets intel on and destroys the lives and reputations of the people who hurt Ed by exposing how unworthy of admiration they are. They could have just left the ship. But no. They hurt his friend and Stede's not gonna stand for that.

Approaches Ed again to check in on how he's feeling and APOLOGISES TO HIM for the way the evening turned out. This gets glossed over but keep in mind Stede didn't even want to go to this. And yet he's apologising for those awful people's behaviour. Because he wants to make it clear that it's NOT ED'S FAULT.

Makes sure to tell Ed that he's very sophisticated. Coming from Stede that means a lot.

At this point Ed is handling his red silk and earlier in the episode we saw him quickly hide it away when he heard Stede approaching. But not now. Stede has been nothing if not kind, considerate, caring and accommodating all episode and he defended Ed's honour. Subconsciously Ed doesn't feel the need to hide this secret thing from Stede anymore, the metaphor for his heart/hopes/weaknesses.

Then Stede compliments the silk.

Ed, defensively mocks it, saying that it's old and tatty. Unworthy of admiration.

Stede disagrees and asks respectfully to handle it, fashioning it into something Ed can be proud of and wear.

"You wear fine things well" is brilliant because it's a double compliment.

Stede is telling Ed: "Your heart, who you are, what you secretly want and hope to be is a fine thing. And I think it looks good on you."

No-one in all of Ed's life has ever told him that. Not even his own mother. For someone to accept Ed, not only as Blackbeard, but the quiet, private part of his heart that longs for softer, gentler things and yearns for connection and a life without violence.

It's the quickest and most thorough seduction and Ed is head over boot heels from that moment forward, so much so that he goes for the kiss.

And the best part is that Stede did this completely by accident and has absolutely no idea.

Poetic cinema. Chef's kiss.

#ofmd meta #ofmd #blackbonnet #ofmd spoilers #blackstede #stedward #ed/stede #edward teach/stede bonnet #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #ofmdspoilers #edward teach #stede bonnet #you wear fine things well

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piracytheorist · 5 months

Text

Episode 35 screaming notes!

So what if I'm emotional over a fictional, fake family spending one day of vacations together?

I love Twilight's comment about how he's glad the SSS is looking out for the bombing threat (and we know it's in vain), but it still puts him on edge to be stared at like this. He trusts them to protect civilian life (and Ostania's pride and joy of a ship) but he doesn't trust trust them, you get what I mean?

We shan't forget. The one thing this man can't pretend to be is someone who is having genuine fun and we'll drag his ass about it and then cry because this is a direct result of his traumatic childhood

Loid blushing when he spots Yor is so precious. I think it might be him blushing half because she saw his dorky skipping and half because… well. He might be falling in love :)

He notices the swelling on Yor's face, but I think he wouldn't even suspect her at this point. He sounded mostly worried about her.

And of course, Anya wasn't plaguing her with questions because she knows all, but it's funny that neither went like "Isn't our super curious five six-year-old going to ask where this bruise and swelling is from?"

SCREAMS

The following montage was absolutely adorable, and the insert song just made it even cuter. I love how it was Anya who lead them to each activity; neither Loid nor Yor had to drag her around anywhere, their attention was on her and on what she wanted. They even explored a cave! She was their priority, she truly must have had an amazing time and this is such a sweet way to end this cruise!

I mean, look. One of the ways Twilight learns how to parent is by fearing 24/7 that his daughter may fall. Very normal things.

Maybe it's because I'm the youngest child, so whenever we were out as a family and I asked to do something my parents would usually decline, because they had two more kids to look after and a place to go, but I have a lot of appreciation for the Forgers going around the resort and stopping to do whatever and anything Anya asked to do.

Very normal man who is definitely not an elite-trained spy trying to fit in. Normal things.

And like. Okay. Yor looking at Anya with such a soft face as Anya is having pure unrestrained fun is one thing.

BUT THEN THEY HIT US WITH THIS???

OH MY GOD. MY GOD. THIS MAN IS IN LOVE AND HE HAS NO FUCKING CLUE.

Like, for real. I can't stop looking at this. It's just his eyes but there's so much longing and yearning in them and also some sadness because deep down he thinks that what he wants is something he'll never get but this is really deep because it'll take him about three to five business years to accept he's grown feelings.

Like. It's not just "growing feelings" anymore. You don't look at someone like THIS when you're just "warming up" to them. He'd grown so accustomed to life with the Forgers that after Yor was away - though in the very same ship as them - for a couple of days he went all yearning looks and doe-y eyes at her when he met with her again. He's in LOVE.

I am so excited to see how their dynamic will develop from now on! It's gone on an entirely new page!

Anyway. I love how Yor went like "Oh they might see the wound on my chest" for the snorkeling but when she saw they could wear wetsuits she went like oh that's okay then and DIDN'T WORRY AT ALL ABOUT THE FACT THAT SHE'D GET SALTWATER ON HER WOUNDS. THIS WOMAN EATS HOT COALS FOR BREAKFAST AND WHITE HOT IRONS FOR LUNCH.

I mean, I'm guessing she is a fast healer and her wounds are not openly bleeding anymore but still. Hardcore.

And of course she'd beat the shit out of sharks. It's funny seeing the trio try to come up with excuses now but I think it's going to be a different type of good post-reveal, cause they'll be like "I have nothing to hide" and act on their abilities without a single moment of hesitation. Imagine Yor beating up sharks and Loid and Anya looking at her with heart eyes.

Aw, but look at them snorkeling. It's Yor who is holding Anya. I wonder what Yor's thinking is on that since she thinks that Loid is Anya's biological father and has been longer in her life. I doubt she thinks anything bad about Loid, but it is something that would make someone wonder.

I was so impressed by everything in the episode up until that point that I completely missed what the dialogue there was XD I only had more thoughts after I rewatched it.

Anya is having fun looking at the colourful fish. Yor has hunting in mind. Loid is… not impressed XD

Though very light, this could be a reflection of their characters. Anya is a child full of curiosity for the world, easily impressed by new stuff; she loved the aquarium, and she loved seeing new fish from up close.

Yor's encounters with animals were either for hunting (for food) or with guard dogs from people she was sent to kill. She understands the concept of pet animals, of course, but it seems to be a "secret third option", as tumblr would say. Her first instincts are either hunting or fighting, and since those fish were too small to be any threat (I mean, she's confident about fighting sharks), her mind went to food.

And then you have Loid. His wide knowledge of the world has rendered him almost incapable of getting impressed. There's nothing new for him to learn in anything… except for child rearing, of course. And maybe human connection. And so, he seems to be looking at those two in the last shot.

Just like Gram, Anya gets thrown around by a professional, super strong assassin and she just goes like "Again!" And Loid doesn't even make a comment about Yor pushing Anya too strong. He really took to heart and meant it when he told Yor that her being strong is one of the things that make her an amazing mother.

AND THEN THAT SCENE

I had guessed right, as Yor had indeed not rested at all for the entire three days of the cruise and had a long and intense fight the night before. AND THUS FANSERVICE HAPPENS <3 <3 <3

DON'T MIND IF I DO <3

ENDO KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING <3

No but seriously, there's a lot to love about this moment. Apart from how cute it is, Twilight at first only seems annoyed by how this attracts attention to them. He was already alert from how the SSS was looking at everyone, this would only add to his uneasiness.

But it doesn't take long for him to find an excuse for his wife. Blaming all her exhaustion on her work, being thankful for her going along with everything Anya asked to do, and smiling at her!! Bruh!! And he STILL can't see it, this man is such a good liar he can even lie to himself!!

Seriously the way Eguchi delivered those lines? Superb <3

AND THEN THE FAMILY THEME PLAYED AND I WAS LOSING MY MIND.

They didn't have to go so hard T_T It was a relaxing (and quite prolonged!) chapter to wrap up the cruise arc, but it was wonderful T_T

Even the Handler is up to him, though. Fullmetal Lady won't fall for his emotionally constipated bullshit.

AND I THOUGHT IT COULDN'T GET ANY CUTER!

She even drew the family in their colours! Yor in red, herself in pink, and Loid in a muted green! I can see Yor holding one of her stilettos, but what is the other thing? A rose? I don't think I can tell what Anya is doing in the drawing, but Loid looks like he's holding a bomb? Or a surfboard?

AAAAAHHH It was wonderful!! T_T

The parts with Yor and her coworkers and Yuri and Lieutenant Guy were actually added by the anime! I feel Yor about the gifts. I'm so bad at gifts you have no idea. And Yuri is on another level, he doesn't stop talking about his sister and he tells Lieutenant Guy "Are you psychic or something" and he's like "Sure sure". And this being this kind of show I was like "MAYBE???" but yeah no he was just messing with Yuri XD

Hey psst. You know what will look even more convincing? If you both slept on those pillows 👀👀 next to each other 👀👀

I was cringing so hard at the scene in the school! Anya! We love you as you are, you don't need to go embarrass yourself!

It was interesting, though, to see that Damian stayed out of it all. It's proof that he can mind his business and keep his opinion to himself. I hope he learns to do that more often.

Becky continues being best friend material <3 Anya is so lucky for real

It's been less than a week

It's so funny to me that the anime added the detail that it was Loid who picked the snacks for Yuri. I wonder how quickly Yuri would spit them out upon learning that XD

My mans tired. I felt kinda sad for him ngl XD

Okay, this was hilarious. His paternal instincts are starting to kick in to the point where he imagines teaching Anya the proper methods of deception. It was also funny that as Yuri was imagining his speech, I went like "Uhm you lie to your sister no?" and before I got to finish that thought, the excuses kicked in.

And Anya is starting to learn that actions have consequences.

This isn't what she manipulated two enemies of the state into adopting her for.

TWO EPISODES LEFT T_T I might have to pick up making crack recaps again for however long the next hiatus will last :'D

#Spy x Family #sxf spoilers #sxf reaction

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manicplank · 28 days

Text

The Color Pink (Part 12)

wow this has so many parts to it now

it's never gonna end

The Sleepover

As he waited for Hazel to show up, Theodore rushed to clean up around the house, especially the bedroom. He was in a panic. He cleaned up any clothes laying around. He hurried to change his sheets and blanket. He couldn't remember the last time he changed them... He was unsure what to do with the clean unfolded laundry. He didn't have time to fold it all and put it away, so he grabbed another hamper and shoved it all in. He darted his head around, looking for anything that might gross her out, but everything seemed fine. He texted her his address, and she texted back: I'm on my way!

He paced around as he waited for her. He was suddenly extremely nervous. What if she thinks I'm gross? What if she changes her mind about me? What if she thinks I'm too weird? What if... There was a knock on the door that interrupted his thoughts. He went over and opened the door. It was Hazel. She had a huge smile on her face. "Hi," she greeted.

"Hey," he replied, "come on in."

She walked in with her hands clasped together. Now that she was in his house, she was a bit timid. She had a small pink bag filled with clothes and small accessories. "I have to admit," she rubbed her arm, "now that I'm here, I am a bit nervous.

"Yeah, I get that. We can just take it easy."

"That'd be nice. I'm a little tired, honestly."

"We can go straight to bed if you want."

"You don't want to watch a movie or anything?"

"Oh, I have a TV in my room!"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah! It has one of those built in CD players!"

"Oh, cool!" She reached into her bag. "Cause I brought a movie!" She pulled out a CD case. Princess Mononoke. "Have you ever heard of Studio Ghibli?"

"No, I haven't actually."

Hazel gasped. "What?! Their movies are so good! My Neighbor Totoro? Kiki's Delivery Service? Castle in the Sky?"

Theodore shrugged.

"Seriously?! Oh, my gosh, you'll love them!"

"Well, we can watch it out here or in the room."

"Mmmm... Let's go in the room! I've never had a TV in the bedroom! It sounds super comfy!"

"It is. I don't really watch it a lot. It's mostly for background noise while I sleep."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When I was a kid, my mom had a TV in her room. Whenever I had nightmares, I'd go into her room, and she'd put the TV on so I'd feel safe. It still helps me sleep sometimes."

"Aww! That's so cute!"

Theo shrugged and blushed. "Ehh, it's no big deal. Come on," he grabbed her hand, "my room is upstairs."

He held her hand as he led her upstairs, where there was a couple rooms and a bathroom. He took her into his room, it was nicely decorated to suit his personality. There were a few band posters, a few family portraits, some Polaroid pictures of him with some other people. There was also a broken skateboard hung up on the wall. The TV was on a wooden dresser which matched his bed frame. His bed was made nice and neatly. On it was one single plush animal. Hazel picked it up.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Oh, that's Mr. PuppyDog! He was my first Build-A-Bear."

"Aw! He's so cute! I have so many Build-A-Bears, I can't tell you all of their names."

"I have a few other plushes. They're in storage, somewhere. Probably still at my mom's house."

Hazel put the plush back down on the bed. "This whole room is filled with your personality."

Theo shrugged. "Whatever that means."

"It means that your room is a lot like what you're like."

"I'm still confused."

She waved her hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. It's not a bad thing." She handed him the CD. "Here."

"Oh, right."

He went over to the TV and started to fuss with it. As he put the CD in, she continued to examine his room. She went to sit down on the right side of the bed, but she noticed something on the nightstand.

"Um... Theo?"

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Is this your ashtray?"

Oh shit... He forgot to hide that. "Um... Yeah..."

"I didn't know you were a smoker."

"Sorry, I thought you knew. I thought everybody knew."

"No, I... I didn't."

"..." Theo didn't know what to say.

"I have to admit..." She looked at him. "I wasn't expecting that. I'm a little disappointed."

"I'm ashamed, honestly. It's not my proudest habit. I've tried to quit a few times, but it's rough."

"I've heard about that. My dad used to be a smoker. He quit, but it took a while. He got really bad withdrawals."

"Yeah, so did I when I tried to quit. I was really moody and got sick a few times..."

She shrugged. "Would you be willing to try quitting again?"

"I could try."

"Please? For me?" She made a cute face.

He chuckled and rubbed her on the head. "Sure. For you."

"Good."

"I'll get rid of this." He took the ashtray and moved it into the other room. He came back in and grabbed the remote from the dresser.

"Before we start the movie, we should get in our PJ's!"

"Oh, uh... I usually just sleep in a t-shirt and underwear, but I can put on some shorts or something."

"That's fine! I mean, you're already in a hoodie and sweatpants."

"Yeah, I don't know why you got dressed to come to a sleepover."

"Shush! Be nice to me!"

He laughed. "You want me to leave the room real quick, give you some privacy?"

"If you don't mind."

Noise stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Hazel changed from her day clothes to a pair of cute pajamas. They were pink satin cami top and shorts with black polka dots scattered around. The ends were covered with black lace. She opened the door and poked her head out.

"I'm all good, now," she said cheerfully.

Theodore opened the door and entered the room again. His eyes grew wide and he blushed.

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Sorry," he chuckled nervously. "You look really pretty."

She went over and held his face with her hands. His eyes grew even wider and his face was red. She giggled and rubbed her thumbs across his cheeks. She tilted her head and kissed him softly. "Relax. It's okay."

"Sorry, sorry. I'm still working on that."

"I know you are. Now, come on," she went back over to the right side of the bed and sat down. "Let's watch the movie! It's such a good one!"

He walked over and crawled onto the left side of the bed. He propped up some pillows to make it comfortable to lean back. He handed her the remote since she was the one who brought the movie.

"Oh, wait," Theo blurted.

"What is it?"

"Um... There's another thing that you might not be too happy with."

Hazel gave him a look.

"It's not like the smoking, but... Can you reach into the drawer on my nightstand?"

"Why?"

"I need to take my meds before I forget. I usually keep them in there."

"Oh! Yeah, sure!" She reached into the drawer and grabbed an orange pill bottle. She handed it to him.

"There should be another one in there."

She looked again and found another. She handed that one to him, too. "What are those?"

"They're my meds."

"Yeah, I know, but what are they?"

"Oh! Well, one of them is an antidepressant and the other is for my bipolar."

"Theo... You have depression?"

"... You don't?"

"No."

"Sorry, I usually just assume everybody does until they tell me else wise."

"And bipolar?"

"Well, I mean, yeah."

"I had no idea."

"Ask anybody who works for me, they'll tell you all about it." He laughed. "I have to grab some water from the kitchen. You wanna come with? We can grab some snacks or something for the movie."

"Yeah! I could use a water, too."

"Okay, come on!"

The two went downstairs and into the kitchen. Theo grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge while Hazel opened the pantry. "Holy shit," she exclaimed. In the pantry was candy and snacks galore. There was every kind of chips and candy imaginable. Hazel almost felt overwhelmed by the amount of selection.

"Theodore," she said, "do you even have real food?"

"Um... kind of? I eat out a lot."

"There's so much..."

"Yep! Pick whatever you want!"

"Oh, geez, I don't know."

Theodore already knew what he wanted. He grabbed a pack of gummy bears and a pack of classic Pocky.

"Oh, I love Pocky! Do you-"

"Yes, I have the strawberry flavor."

Hazel squealed as he handed her a box of strawberry Pocky. Strawberry anything was her favorite flavor. Theo gave her a water bottle and grabbed her hand as he led her back upstairs. They went back into the bedroom and got in their previous spots on the bed. Hazel sat up with her legs criss crossed, Theo sat against the headboard. Hazel picked up the remote. Theo grabbed one of the pill bottles and took the medicine.

"I'll take the other one later," he said. "It makes me really tired. I want to stay awake for the movie."

"You're going to love it!"

As the movie started, Hazel scooted over and rested her head on Theo's shoulder. Noise suddenly grew anxious. He put his hands together and twiddled his thumbs. He tried to focus on the film, but his heart was racing. Hazel leaned into him more and wrapped her arm around his waist and rubbed his chest with her free hand. "Relax," she spoke softly. "I'm not going to hurt you." She kissed his neck a couple times then his cheek. He still stared wide-eyed at the TV, hardly focusing on the movie. "Let me help you out," Hazel grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her. Theo took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

Halfway through the movie, Hazel felt Theo's head leaned onto hers. At first she thought it was cute. "Finally relaxed, huh," she teased, but he didn't respond. "Theo?" Then she realized he was asleep. A huge smile grew onto her face. She did her best not to giggle. She pat his chest, but he didn't respond, so she pat his face. "Theo."

"Hmm..."

"Theo!"

"Wha-?! Huh?"

"You fell asleep." She chuckled.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You had a long day. Do you just want to go to bed?"

"I guess so." He yawned. "I'm definitely tired."

"Okay, let's go to bed, then." She took the remote and turned off the movie and the TV.

She got up and reached into her bag. She pulled out a toothbrush and tooth paste.

"If you want to use the bathroom first," Theo spoke, "I'll grab you some pillows and an extra blanket. I'm sort of... a blanket hog."

She giggled at him. "Okay."

Hazel went into the bathroom and began brushing her teeth. There were little paper cups stacked next to the faucet. She filled one up and used it to rinse out her mouth. She forgot to grab her mouthwash, so she went back into the room to get it from her bag. As she walked back in, she saw Theo putting some fresh pillows and a folded up blanket on the bed. There was also a fleece pink blanket balled up on his side of the bed.

"Oh, hey," he looked at her. "Done already?"

"Almost. I forgot to get my mouthwash. I have a little mini one!" She grabbed it out of her bag and headed back to the bathroom. She filled the cap and swished it around her mouth for a minute before spitting it out into the sink. She went back into the room again. "Okay, your turn!"

Noise let out a small laugh and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth as well. Hazel fluffed up the pillows and crawled onto the bed. She got under the blanket that was on the bed instead of the one he gave to her. She felt the pink blanket that was on his side. It was incredibly soft. Theodore rinsed his mouth with water then swished a cap full of mouthwash and spit it out. He came back into the room to see Hazel nice and comfortable.

"I appreciate you bringing me an extra blanket," she smiled at him, "but I want to share a blanket with you."

"I don't mind. I only gave you the extra just in case I hog the blanket in the middle of the night." He walked up to the bed and took off his hoodie. He was wearing a yellow NTV t-shirt underneath.

"Self advertising, huh," she chuckled.

"Not really. Whenever we release merch, they give me a sample of some sort. I have a million of NTV t-shirts and hoodies." He went over to the dresser and opened one of the drawers. "I do want to find some shorts, though."

"You um... You don't have to."

"Nah, I get really warm at night. I don't want to sleep in sweatpants."

"You can sleep in your underwear if you're comfortable with it."

"I'm pretty sure I have some gym shorts around he-"

"..."

"..." Theodore was blushing. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine." She smiled. "We'll be under the blanket, anyways."

"I think I'd be more comfortable in some shorts."

"Whatever works for you."

He quickly slipped into some soft grey shorts as he still faced the dresser. He got into bed, but Hazel stopped him before he laid down.

"Don't forget to take your other pill!"

"Shit, right! Thanks for reminding me." He chuckled. "I totally would've forgot." He opened the other bottle and swallowed the pill with a mouthful of water.

"By the way, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's up?"

What's with the pink blanket? Was that one for me?"

"Oh, no that's um... That's... Well, that's my blankie. I, uh... I can't really sleep without it."

"Aww, Theo!"

"Shush!"

"No, no, it's cute!"

"Shuuush!" He pouted and blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed! It's fine! I'm not judging you."

"Alright, alright."

"One more question."

"Hm?"

"Can we cuddle? I wanna spoon." She smiled cutely.

Theo blushed even harder. "Um... Yeah. Yeah, sure."

"I call little spoon!" She plopped on to her right side and giggled.

(Tiniest suggestive warning. Nothing bad happens but there is a small mention.)

Theo nervously clicked the lamp off and snuggled up to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned against her with his head on her neck. She put her arm on top of the one that wrapped around her and intertwined their fingers. Theo gulped and took a deep breath. Even though they were only cuddling, he found himself growing incredibly flustered... including down below. He moved his hips back and away from her. She noticed him move and picked her head up.

"Where ya goin'?"

"I, uh..." he spoke shakily.

"Get back here!" She threw her hips back at him, but jolted forward once she felt him. "Oh!"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"

She giggled. "Theo, relax. I take it as a compliment."

"Oh, my gosh, I just-"

"Theo! Calm down! Would it help if we switched and I was big spoon?"

"That... Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Come on," she flipped over and nudged him.

He rolled over, but he was still so embarrassed. He took a deep breath. Hazel snuggled up to him and played with his hair. He focused on his breathing as she gently scratched his scalp. With her other hand, she intertwined their fingers and held hands. Theodore felt his muscles relax. Before he knew it, he was zonked out. Hazel thought it was cute that he got so flustered. He was so cocky and brave when they first met, but now he was a nervous wreck. She knew it was going to take a while for him to settle, but in the meantime, she was going to help push him through it.

Eventually, Hazel had also fallen asleep and ended up rolling onto her back. She was sleeping soundly until she woke up freezing cold. Just as she was warned, The Noise was wrapped head to toe in the blanket. He was curled up in fetal position with the blanket over his ears. His pink "blankie" was even over his head. No wonder he gets so warm at night, she thought. She grabbed the extra blanket he had given her, unfolded it, and covered herself up. She let out a small groan as she snuggled up with the blanket.

Hazel woke up again around her usual time, around 5 in the morning. To her, that was "sleeping in". She looked over at Noise, who was still sleeping with his blankie over his head. She debated on waking him up, but she wasn't too keen on disturbing him. With the way the paparazzi treated him the day before, she thought he deserved to rest. She slowly crawled out of bed so she could brush her teeth, but she accidentally woke him up doing so. His eyes squinted as he moved the blanket off his head.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Mmmph..." He groaned. "It's okay..." He tiredly slurred his words.

"I was going to let you sleep. You seemed like you needed it."

He sat up and took a deep breath. "Yeah... I'll be fine. I can always take a nap later." He yawned and stretched. He let out a small chuckled once he saw that she used the other blanket. "I warned you that I'm a blanket hog."

She giggled. "You should've seen yourself. You were wrapped up like a burrito."

"Yeah, I've always slept like that."

"That's probably why you get so hot at night."

"I can't sleep any other way."

She booped him on the nose. "You wanna go out and get some food or somethin'?"

"Yeah, sure," he yawned again. "I could eat. I'm gonna brush my teeth, though."

"I was gonna-"

"You can go first. I can lay down a few more minutes." He smiled as he slid back down.

She chuckled softly as she headed over to the bathroom with her toothbrush, toothpaste, and this time, she remembered her mouthwash.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #noisette #pink fic

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