#it’s Christmas so I’m not leaving the house until I go back to work on the 4th
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𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]
masterlist, part one
wc- 5.2k
pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader
summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.
warnings- sfw, age gap (27-mid 40s), i’m spreading the italian american agenda w rossi!reader, reader lowkey has daddy issues but they’re working on it, alcohol use, jack is 7, rich old italian people antics, we love bonding w jack, hotch and r turn each other on w brownies??, insane sexual tension
a/n- dividers from @saradika-graphics and @reveriesources !!!
aaron straightens his tie in the mirror one final time, smoothing his hands down the front of his navy suit jacket.
“jack! let’s go!” he calls up the steps, followed soon by footsteps pattering down the steps.
“i’m coming, dad!” he whines, his voice high pitched, but loving all the same as he exits his bedroom.
aaron can’t help the pride swarming deep in his chest as he looks at his son in his christmas best, clad in a perfectly tailored dark green suit that nearly mirrors his completely. the invite said formal, and aaron doesn’t think he did too poorly. he’d learned to dress himself for work long ago, therefore transferring that knowledge to his son has so far proven to be quite easy. so far.
“alrighty, after you, kiddo,” he smiles down at the boy and holds the front door open with his back. he attempts to find his keys, juggling everything from christmas bags to wine bottles in his grasp, until he feels small fingers reaching into his pants pocket.
“here,” jack states, deadpanned, keyring dangling off his index finger.
“thanks, buddy,” he smiles, “can you hit unlock for me?” he does, which allows aaron to finally free his hands and get them to the party in one piece.
the large house is already bustling, aglow with golden christmas lights laced through the large bushes out front, a jolly statue of santa welcoming whoever may cross the threshold. penelope lets them in, greeting him with a large hug that was no doubt induced by the hard eggnog jj makes every year.
“hi, penelope,” he smiles warmly down at her, pleased to be seeing the people he so deeply cares for in a positive environment, for once.
jack is quick to find henry, off to run amok throughout david’s expansive home. he sets the wine down on the wide kitchen island, cluttered with an array of appetizers, desserts, and various drinks. he pours himself a whiskey, and nearly drops the glass when he turns to exit, stopped in his tracks by her.
“hello, aaron,” the girl before him says gently. her manicured hands coil cunningly around her wine glass, red silk sculpting her figure in a way that makes his brain short circuit.
the sound of his name on her lips takes his breath away, and all he can muster is a hushed, “hi,” he’s unable to take his eyes off you.
his eyes can’t help but dip lower than he let them the other week, committing the peaks and valleys of her curves in that dress to memory. he’s thankful for the vibrant scene surrounding you in the busy kitchen, lest he made it unbearably awkward.
“whatcha got there?” she nods at his drink, and it zaps him back to reality like an electrical shock.
“oh!” he gasps, his gaze snapping down to his glass, “just-whiskey…it seems your father knows what i like,” he smiles sheepishly, his fingers patting against the cold glass.
“one thing italian men never mess around with is good liquor,” she smiles cunningly, stealing the remaining bits of breath from his lungs, “cheers,” she raises her glass to him and he clinks his against it, his eyes never leaving hers for one second.
“nice to see you, aaron,” she coos and places a soft hand on his forearm, wide doe eyes boring into his before exiting the kitchen. her hand lingers on him until it’s no longer physically possible, her nails scraping down his forearm as she goes. a shiver unzips down his spine, both at the touch, and at the sudden loss of her warmth.
“cheers,” he breaths out, after she’s gone. his eyes fall shut in the wake of her perfume, notes of jasmine and cedar left wafting through the air. he can’t help but take a quick inhale, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
he plows five fingers through his hair before taking a large gulp of whiskey. he needs to get it together. what is he, 15?
a sly whistle approaching from his left keeps him from his spiral. his eyes jokingly roll as he sees derek saunter up to him, penelope close in tow.
“aa-ron hotch-ner,” derek stresses each syllable, clapping his hand on aaron’s shoulder.
aaron hides a smirk behind another sip of the brown liquid in his glass, the smokiness coating his throat.
“now what was all that about?” derek points a thumb in the direction she walked off on, an arm slung over aaron’s shoulder. he purses his lips, gaze tilted downwards to mask the hint of red dusting his cheeks.
“nothing. that was nothing,” he turns to look at derek, and he knows the glint in his eyes gives him away entirely.
“you sly dog,” derek nudges aaron’s shoulder with his own, before leaving him to refill his drink, now alone with penelope.
“sir…” she gives him a knowing stare, leaning her forearms against the kitchen island.
he holds up a finger, eyes wide in an attempt to delay the inevitable, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth, “penelope. don’t,” he asserts, but the childlike giddiness fluttering through his chest invokes a cheeky grin that prevents his sternness from having any real effect.
she lifts her finger, mirroring his, “sir…” she says again, higher pitched this time, a sense of urgency seizing her tone.
“penelope…” he repeats himself, urgent tone matching hers, his eyebrow quirking.
he catches the quickest flash of red from his peripheral, and he double takes, his attention immediately stolen by her lighting up the living room. his heart squeezes with a sudden urge to meet her there, to place his hand on the small of her back and revel in her story, to be there for her. it’s all he’d thought about since he met her, in her father’s kitchen, where he now stands once more.
ever since that godforsaken night, when he needed to borrow a globe of all things, he’s laid awake at night, grasping onto her soft vanilla scent. it was a complete contrast to the seductive aroma she spritzed on for tonight, though she was intoxicating no matter what. he thought of the alcohol on that wafted off her tongue, how badly he wanted to just lean down and taste it.
in his daze, he forgets penelope is there. she follows his line of sight and snaps her gaze back toward him, “sir!” she gushes, her tone incredulous. her smile is scandalous, but proud. it’s a knowing smile, one that knows exactly what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, something he doesn’t really quite know himself yet.
his eyes dart to either side before leaning into her slightly, “we never had this conversation,” he mumbles lowly, raising a pointed brow at her. her eyes widen, because this time, there was no smile masking his intensity.
the flared sleeves of your silk dress fall down your arm, showcasing your tennis bracelets. the gold and diamonds sparkle in the soft glow of golden christmas lights wound through the comically large christmas tree standing proud in the living room. you grasp the stem of your wine glass as you squeeze into the eager arms of uncles, cousins, and old family friends.
old, italian men take up every square inch of the living room, wine glasses in hand, all waiting with rapt anticipation to hear stories from new york. the pride in their eyes prods at your stomach like a fire iron.
you appease them anyway, indulging in emotionally safe memories, like the time you drunkenly walked across the street in the middle of times square just to get a slice of pizza.
that earns you a robust roar of laughter, and the sound reminds you of all the christmases you’ve spent in this very room. the smell of cigars they carry on their suit jackets, the wine that will inevitably stain their mustaches, it all invokes a pang of nostalgia coiling around your heart, squeezing until you’re near tears.
“look at you! our topolina all grown up!” your oldest uncle squeezes your cheeks together, and you gently clasp your free hand around his wrist.
“and she still manages to come see her papà for christmas!” another one of your uncles calls out in sarcastic annoyance. the low mumble of hearty chuckles fills the room, and you force a smile on your lips.
your heart twists around itself as you absorb the loving gazes of the men who have watched you grow, who have rooted for you from the moment you were born. a sinking feeling settles in your stomach, you can’t help but feel you’ve let them all down, you’ve let your father down, by returning here.
when you got accepted into nyu, your family was over the moon. they threw parties, you received gifts, money, one of your uncles even called his real estate buddy over in new york and cut you a deal on an apartment. guilt pools in your stomach like acid, because they don’t know. they don’t know you’re not just here for the holidays, they don’t know about your failure.
a small body knocks you out of your shame-spiral, and you nearly spill your wine on yourself.
“oh! i’m sorry, ma’am!” a young boy exclaims, reaching to pick up the pieces of the toy that clattered to the floor. you smile at the boy, he didn’t mean it after all. the furrow of his brows and stressed tone tells you that much.
“that’s okay, sweetie!” you squat down as much as you can in the silk encasing your body, helping him pick up any remaining pieces he missed, “here you go!”
“thanks!” he smiles toothily at you, and you can’t help but feel a pang of deja vu deep in your chest, like you’ve seen his face somewhere before.
it compels you to ask, “hey, what’s this all about?” referring to his, what seems to be very intricate, lego set.
“it’s a lego plane! could you please help me put it together again?” he grins at you, and you return it.
“of course!” you reply, eager to escape the guilt that’s swirling through your stomach like a whirl pool.
you and the boy, who’s introduced himself as jack, sit tucked in the corner of the living room, hidden by the expansive christmas tree. you click pieces into place and revel in the sweet boy’s satisfaction.
“you’re pretty good at this!” he exclaims, and you send him a sweet grin.
“thanks! i had lots of experience when i was your age,” you state in a light, airy voice, and he giggles.
“you don’t play legos anymore?” he inquires, so genuine and earnest your heart aches.
“no, i don’t. maybe i should, though,” you consider, handing him a piece of the wing.
“yeah, you totally should!” he replies, as if it were that easy to hold onto your childhood, “if you don’t play legos, what do you do for fun?”
you laugh at the insinuation in his tone, and ponder his question.
“i like to write…” you trail off, unsure of what else to say about that. luckily, jack solves your problem for you.
“you write for fun? my teacher makes me do that!” he scrunches up his nose and you laugh. it’s a genuine one, one that comes from your belly and throws your head back.
“would it make things better or worse if i said my other hobby is reading?” you jokingly raise a brow at the boy, and he groans in disgust, spurring on additional bouts of laughter from the both of you.
jack clicks the final piece into place, his eyes lighting up as he holds the finished product in the air, moving it above his head like an actual airplane.
“nice teamwork, man!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which he eagerly accepts.
“thanks for helping me! teamwork is key. that’s what my dad always tells me,” he states nonchalantly, eyes trained on the aircraft balancing delicately in his hands.
“your dad sounds like a smart man,” you smile, “you’re pretty lucky you got such a cool toy, too.”
“yeah, i am,” he smiles to himself, and his sincerity warms your heart, “my dad didn’t get me this, though. it’s from my uncle dave,” he states matter of factly, completely innocent to the information he just gave you.
“your uncle dave? like the man who threw this party uncle dave?” you verify, and he nods. your heart rate picks up as the puzzle pieces in your mind click into place. it couldn’t be. could it?
“jack?” you hear a familiar voice call, and your heart drops to your stomach, that final piece snapping into place. of course. “jack, where are you buddy?”
“right here, dad!” he leaps out from behind the tree and you reluctantly follow suit, nearly tripping over the hem of your dress in a weak attempt to stand.
you make eye contact with aaron once you’re stable on two feet. you’re unable to take your eyes off him, really. he takes pause when he sees you, and it’s like the world tilts off its axis, completely freezing in time. a hint of confusion laces his gaze, but it’s mostly masked by an air of desire as his eyes flit quickly over your frame once more. he lingers on your right hand, still clutching your wine glass, eyes darkening at the bracelets that dangle from your wrist. interesting.
the rustling of his son before him startles him out of his daze, and he plows ten (incredibly thick) fingers through his hair before he lets out a weak chuckle, “hey buddy!” he ruffles his son’s hair and the boy wraps his arms around his dad’s torso. fuck.
“what were you up to, my man?” he asks, kneeling to get to his level.
“i accidentally bumped into this nice lady, so she helped me put my plane back together!” he exclaims, beaming with pride as he shows his father the finished product.
“wow! well that was really nice of her,” his eyes snap up to meet yours quickly before going back to his son, the brief contact shocks your heart all the same, “did you say thank you?”
“yes, dad!” he whines, sounding a bit annoyed that his dad still thinks he has to ask him that. his petulant tone pulls a chuckle from your throat, and it causes both boys to turn their identical chocolate eyes onto you.
“he did, he was incredibly polite,” you gush, “we had lots of fun, didn’t we?” he nods enthusiastically, and aaron chuckles. the adorable high pitched noise makes your heart to thump against your chest, and you take a gulp of wine.
aaron knew where jack was all night. he always does. he caught a glimpse of his little feet poking out from behind the tree, fussing about his new lego set. the shine of red silk glimmered in the tree lights next to him, and his heart dropped into his stomach.
he made quick work of excusing himself to the back patio under the guise of ‘getting some air’. from there, he had a clear view of the other side of the living room, where she and jack were planted, clicking various lego pieces into place.
he watched as jack’s eyes lit up, the way she made him laugh. it made his heart thump against his chest, the way she connected with jack like it was breathing. it disarms him, stealing the breath from his lungs. she’s good at that.
he watches now-jack already off somewhere with henry- the display of her neck as she takes a swig of wine. it’s the merlot he brought, he can tell from the deep red staining her glossy lips. his eyes study them, her plump, pink lips. he wonders what her lipgloss tastes like, his mouth watering from his urge to taste her sweetness, to steal the oaky tang of wine off the tip of her tongue. the corner of her mouth ticks up in a sly smirk, and his eyes snap up to meet hers, her devious gaze telling him he’s been caught.
“thank you, for uh-for taking care of jack for a bit,” he puts his hands in his pockets, his gaze falling to the floor as he speaks.
“oh! anytime,” she chirps, “he’s a really sweet kid, you must be really proud,” she’s playing him like a fiddle, he nearly melts into a puddle on the spot.
“yeah, yeah, i am,” he nods, finally making eye contact with a small smile. she returns it, the sly glint escaping her, now replaced by a soft, gentle smile and kind eyes.
“we had fun…it was better than being grilled by family about my return home,” she states, washing it down with another sip of wine.
he chuckles at that, “fair enough,” he mutters.
she smiles at that, “yeah, he just grilled me about how i don’t play legos anymore, much less interrogative.” this earns a heftier chuckle from aaron, and her eyes light up, his laughter spurring on her own.
“that sounds like jack,” he nods, a wide grin stretching his cheeks.
“he’s a great kid, really. he must get it from his dad,” her voice is saccharine as her hand briefly grazes his forearm. it’s like he’s been struck by lightning.
a light gasp escapes his chest at the brief contact, and his cheeks burn, “i-i don’t know about that,” his voice is raspy as he speaks, quickly clearing his throat afterwards.
her hand settles on his forearm, she begins to take a step closer and tell him something, but what he ends up hearing comes from behind him.
“sir!!!” penelope squeals, and they both freeze, eyes wide, “you’re wanted in the kitchen!! group photo!!”
his lashes kiss his cheeks as his head drops back slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips, “coming!” he calls over his shoulder. he nods at you curtly before turning towards penelope, contempt pooling like acid in his stomach.
“you can flirt later,” she jokes so only they can hear, winking at him before going off to pose everyone properly for the photo. he looks down and chuckles to himself as he falls in line.
as the party began to wind down, the easier it was for you to sneak off to your own space. most of the guests had left hours ago, but the bau members remained huddled around the kitchen table till the early hours of the morning. around midnight, you’re able to excuse yourself to your room. you wiggle out of your dress and relieve yourself of your shapewear, sighing as you pull on your buttery sleep set- light pink pants that flare at the bottom, with a matching short sleeve top that softly hugs your frame.
you pad over to your en-suite and scrub your makeup off, serums and lotions shining on your skin. you throw your hair up in a claw clip and slide on your glasses. just because you’re comfortable, though, does not mean you’re turned in for the night. you return back down the steps to grab some wine and dessert, seeing as there’s leftovers scattering every square inch of the kitchen.
the party moved itself outside, surrounded by the fire pit in the generous backyard. you smile to yourself as you see the group huddled around, and you itch to join them. you study the smile pinching your dad’s cheeks, and you long to be a part of something that makes him so happy. you’re not sure if you’d be wanted, though, so you resort to desserts and wine littering the kitchen island. you settle in with a riesling and a tray of cookies and brownies on either side of you, and turn on the expansive television in your father’s kitchen.
the low hum of parks and rec fills the kitchen as you pop the cork of the wine bottle, not bothering to pour a glass as your lips touch the spout. your eyes flit to the sliding glass door gliding open to reveal aaron. you pause, holding the bottle in front of you as you gulp down what’s in your mouth.
“hi,” you smile as he enters slowly, his own spreading his lips.
“hey, you tired?” he inquires, brow stern but eyes soft. he’s changed too, donning a dark pair of jeans and a white t shirt that hugs his bicep in a way that send an electric shock right to your brain.
“yeah, just came down for a midnight snack,” you smile, talking quietly even though you were the only two people in the house, “you should come join me,” you take a risk, patting the seat of the stool beside you.
“yeah, that sounds nice, it was getting loud out there,” he jokes, smiling softly as he fills his water bottle at the fridge.
he moves to sit next to you, ice rattling in his gray water bottle as his legs swing around the stool, nestling close to yours. he steals the wine bottle from your grasp, his brows shooting up into his forehead with a cheeky smirk. you shamelessly ogle the way his lips press against the glass bottle, the throb of his adam’s apple as he swallows. he takes a thumb to his lips after he’s taken a sip, wiping any excess from his mouth. you wish you could’ve kissed it off.
“that’s good,” he smiles, the gloss in his eyes telling you this is far from his first drink of the night. you’re sure your own eyes tell a similar story.
“i know,” you smile back, taking a sip of your own.
“you know…” he begins, fiddling with a brownie he picked off the plate, “when i first saw you tonight, i didn’t think you could get any prettier. i was wrong. you look incredible right now,” he smiles, his teeth sinking into the gooey brownie.
“aaron-” you chuckle, cheeks heating up, “thank you,” you mutter, looking down at your lap, “thank you. i thought the same thing when i saw you. that suit was ridiculous, but i think the t shirt made my brain short circuit,” the alcohol has loosened your lips significantly, you don’t care one bit how embarrassed you’ll be in the morning.
“oh really?” he laughs at that, the apples of his cheeks flushing red, “i like that you like my $5 t shirt from target better than my armani suit,” he muses, taking another big swig of the wine bottle.
“i like that you’re the kind of guy who has $5 t shirts from target and armani suits in his closet,” you smile, your body fully turned towards him. you rest your head on your hand, elbow planted firmly on the kitchen island, gazing at him with a fiery adoration.
“variety is the spice of life, as they say,” he takes another big bite of brownie, and you wipe a spare crumb from the corner of his mouth. you bring your crumb covered thumb to your mouth, your plush lips wrapping around the tip to take a taste for yourself. he pauses, eyes blown wide, then gulps his brownie down as he absorbs your action with his hungry, dark eyes.
“is that why you decided to become a profiler? for the variety?” you quiz him, biting into a piece of a chocolate chip cookie.
“something like that,” he mutters, a smirk spreading on his lips as he pops the last bite of brownie in his mouth, “little birdie told me you’re a writer,” he nudges your shoulder with his own, “trying to be like your dad?”
the question pokes at the vulnerability lacing your heart and you adjust in your seat, wiggling around your discomfort, “something like that…” you repeat his earlier sentiment, and he chuckles.
“well, if you’re anything like him then you’re probably amazing,” he smiles, taking the bottle from you once more.
“thank you, it’s…complicated. i fell in with the wrong people, and i figured it out the hard way,” you press your lips together, and you can tell he wants to ask more. you’re thankful he doesn’t, seeing as you’re not particularly very eager to delve into the reason you’re running back to your father’s house with a man you’re irrevocably attracted to.
“it happens to the best of us,” is all he says, but he hooks his ankle around the leg of your stool, connecting it with yours. your tense muscles loosen at the contact, and you and aaron both smile quietly down at your hands, comfortable existing in a soft silence together.
“this is one of my favorite shows,” aaron mutters, nodding towards the tv, where leslie knope is desperately scrambling to put together the harvest festival.
you turn to face him once more in shock, “really? i didn’t strike you as a sitcom guy!” you exclaim. he turns to face you now, his right knee slotting in between your legs, his left closing in on the other side of your thigh. his legs are huge, it’s like you’re surrounded by fucking tree trunks. it’s so intoxicating, the topic of your conversation completely slips your mind.
“i’ve been watching sitcoms before you even knew what they were,” he smirks, his voice low, gravelly, but silky smooth at the same time. a shudder unzips down your spine at the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek, “i love my west wing and my sopranos, too, don’t get me wrong,” he nudges your shoulder with his, and the proximity makes you dizzy, “but in my line of work, i mean, i need something to get my mind off of it at the end of the day. this one is like chicken soup for your soul.”
you smile at that sentiment, eyes shining with fondness for the man in front of you. butterflies swarm your stomach when the warmth of his large hands seep through your shirt, warming your stomach. he’s got a gentle grip on either side of you, his gigantic hands covering as much skin as possible. he engulfs you completely, your senses on aaron hotchner overdrive. his spicy oak cologne mixed with his woodsy aftershave nearly renders you dumb as you let your body fall into his, your forehead resting against his. he rubs his thumb into your skin and your eyes fall shut, a soft ‘oh!’ escaping your lips.
“that was really pretty, honey,” aaron murmurs, and you just ache.
your eyes open and you pull back to see him staring at you, low lidded and hungry. you’re going to kiss him. there’s no way around it. except the wretched sound of the glass door sliding open once more.
you and aaron jump apart like you’ve been burned, and you thank your lucky stars your father was not entering the threshold. derek and penelope stand there, s’mores ingredients in hand, shit eating grins on their faces.
“well, well, well, we were wondering where you’d run off to…” penelope trails off, “everyone’s about to come in, so we thought you might need a little warning,” penelope’s tone is incredulous as she raises her brows suggestively, and derek wolf whistles as he puts the marshmallows back in the cabinet.
“nothing- it was nothing!” aaron trips over his words as he scrambles for his things. your eyes go wide as you watch him move in a flurry throughout the kitchen, grabbing his clothes and his leftovers. before long, he’s slipped his shoes on and flies right out the door.
the silence in the wake of the door slamming is thick, loaded. you sit there in shock, unable to take your eyes off penelope. what the fuck just happened?
“what the fuck just happened?” penelope squeals, as if she read your mind.
“i don’t know!” you scream back, palms reaching up to slap your face.
“i know what happened!” derek exclaims, “the boss man’s caught some feelings and it scares the hell out of him!” he points out like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
dread pools in your stomach, and you plop your head in the crook of your elbow resting on the island. you’ve been home for less than a month and you’ve already managed to self destruct, “oh god,” you groan.
the rest of the group came inside shortly after, promptly gathering their things and giving lengthy goodbyes to everyone that was still there. you shook hands with many of them on the way out, mustering the biggest smiles you could manage under the circumstances.
once you close the door, you gather your tried and true water, motrin, and toast, and curl up on the couch. you turn the tv on there, attempting to stay up until some of the alcohol wears off. sleeping is useless for you when you’re this drunk. 
your head perks up from your cocoon of blankets and pillows when you hear the doorbell ring, followed by your father’s voice carrying down the steps, “i got it!”
he patters down the staircase and opens the door, and you just barely make out who it is, but you catch it all the same.
“hey, aaron!” your dad exclaims, and your eyes shoot wide open, “sorry i missed you when you left! everything alright?”
“yeah, yeah, jack missed me,” you could just barely hear him mutter from the porch, “but i believe he forgot his stuffed bear here, i’m sorry to be back so late. he couldn’t sleep.”
you see the bear, it lays by the tree, amongst a mess of wrapping paper. you leap off the couch and scoop it up, nervously pacing the living room.
“not at all,” your father’s voice carries from down the hall, “principessa, you can walk him out, right? i’m going to bed!” he calls down to you, and you muster out a weak, “yes!” in response.
aaron makes eye contact with you from the kitchen, and he slowly saunters into the living room. you stare at each other for a moment, and you forget you’re holding his son’s bear until his eyes drop down to it.
“oh!” you gasp, holding your hand out, “here! it was just under the tree-”
you’re cut off by his hands on your face, pulling your lips in to crash against his. the kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. you pull back for small moments, before diving back in to place quick, sloppy kisses on his mouth. he chases after your lips like he’s starving for them, and it makes you feel 10 feet tall. he punctures your lips with his once more in a long, heated kiss. he cradles your jaw in his hands as he attacks your lips, licking into your mouth ever so slightly.
he pulls away from you with a gasp, and you feel the loss of his warmth like a gut punch, “thank you,” he mutters, breathless, but completely dead pan, before storming out of the home for the second time that evening, leaving you gasping for breath and flustered beyond belief. what. the fuck. just happened?
#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner criminal minds#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x rossi!reader#aaron hotchner x you
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I had a list of movies and tv shows to watch while on my Christmas holidays, I’ve managed one and somehow two seasons of Jack Reacher????
#the show isn’t good#I find myself rolling my eyes a lot#but he’s really big and he beats up people really well#what am I supposed to do#I got a quarter of the way into beau is afraid last night before I realised it lasted three hours and my sister called for a 40 minute chat#I was supposed to finish it today instead I played Jedi survivor until I rage quit and finished season 2 of Jack Reacher#it’s Christmas so I’m not leaving the house until I go back to work on the 4th#beau is afraid will get finished I’m just tired all day from doing nothing
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Under the Mistletoe || OP81
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x bff!fem!reader
Summary: Sick of his friends pining for each other but two stupid to realise it was mutual, Logan sets about making sure they both get their Christmas wish.
Warnings: pining, angst, fluff
WC: 2.2k
“Hold up, let me find his spare key,” Logan said as he balanced his box on top of the one you already carried.
“Just use mine,” you said as you carefully turned. “Back pocket, left. Other left, dude.”
“My bad.” Logan grabbed the keychain and tried the ones that weren’t your car or letterbox keys. “He gave you a key?”
“Just so I can water the plants while he’s away, and make sure the stove is turned off.”
Logan laughed, turning the right key and opening the door. “He doesn’t even cook.”
You shrugged and followed him into Oscar’s house. “Doesn’t stop him thinking he’s left it on as soon as he’s at the airport.”
It was like walking into your own apartment, there was a home comfort to hanging your keys on the hook that had your initials and hanging your coat on the rack. Picking your box up again, you followed Logan to the kitchen and deposited it on the bench before grabbing two glasses and pouring you both a much deserved drink.
“This is why people don’t believe you are ‘just friends’,” Logan stated, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him and continued to help yourself to the snacks Oscar kept stocked for you.
“Just shut up and hang the decorations before I overlook your usefulness.”
Logan returned to his box, unpacking the tinsel and bunting that you had bought. “At least you didn’t deny it this time.”
“We are definitely just friends, Lo.” You looked down at the crisp packet and muttered under your breath, “I’m not his type anyway.”
You didn’t notice Logan pause, but you did look up when he shoved his handful back in the box. “What?”
“What?” you echoed.
“What did you say?”
“We are just friends.”
“No, after that.” He leaned back against the kitchen benchtop and crossed his arms. “How do you know you’re not his type?”
“Because we are friends, we talk about these things,” you said with a shrug. “Can we not talk about this right now? He’s going to be home in a few hours.”
“We have time,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “What makes you think you’re not his type?”
You huffed in annoyance and grabbed the decorations yourself, taking them to the living room since Logan was going to be no help. “Because I’m not, okay. He likes funny girls. He wants someone he can have a laugh with to take his mind off work when he gets home. And pretty too, actually he said ‘beautiful’.”
“Okay…” Logan stared at you until you grew uncomfortable.
“And he's surrounded by models at every event.”
“So why isn’t he dating one of them then?”
“Because his standards are obviously high if they aren’t pretty enough for him. I don’t stand a chance.”
Logan shook his head and groaned. “Have you told him that you love him?”
“Of course I have, I tell him all the time.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
You gave him a look that warned him not to ask another stupid question. “I’m not going to risk our friendship when my relationships never end well. I’d rather be his friend forever, than an ex I never see again.”
“God, you are both so stupid.” Logan brushed you aside as you tried to jump and reach the hooks high up the wall. “Give me that before you hurt yourself.”
You watched on as he hung the tinsel around the room with minimal guidance needed and deemed it safe enough to leave him in charge. Oscar was fairly tidy, compared to the other men you know, but his pet hate was making his bed. He would always leave it unmade claiming he was only going to make it messy again that night.
You went upstairs and made the bed before seeing the laundry basket was overflowing. He mustn’t have had time to do it between his trip to Baku, the McLaren Factory and then his short trip home to Melbourne. That was why you were in his house, setting it up for another Christmas he would miss with his family. You didn’t want him to feel alone so you were bringing Australia to him.
You lost track of time when you found his whites mixed in with the colours and you tutted to yourself as you separated them to soak in the sink.
“You don’t have to do that,” Oscar said when he found you in his laundry, both the dryer and the washing machine working as hard as you.
“Hey, you’re home!” You dropped the clothes you were folding and threw your arms around him. His tired chuckle made your heartbeat a little fast as he embraced you back and buried his face in your neck. “How’s mum and dad? And your sisters? Did they like the presents?”
His head grew heavier as he leaned against you and nodded. “Of course they did, you always know what they want.”
“Not me, you,” you corrected as you brushed a hand over his messy hair. “You got them remember.”
Oscar pulled back with a shy smile. “I think everyone knows you are the mastermind. I would have just given them a gift card.”
You laughed at the truth as the dryer finished another load but Oscar took your hand and towed you out of the laundry. “I’ll do it later,” he stated. “Logan’s already got the tree up but there’s one thing missing.”
Your jaw dropped as you saw the living room had been completely transformed into an Australian Christmas so Oscar would feel at home. A pine tree sat in the corner of the room, needles scattered around the base from trying to manoeuvre it into place. Like the ceiling, green and gold tinsel snaked around the tree but it was the floor that caught your eye.
“The sand was meant to be in the pool,” you laughed as you pointed to the small children’s sized blow up pool still in the box. Logan had poured the bags of golden sand around the tree and the wooden floor now resembled a tiny beach.
“You know, that makes more sense,” Logan admitted.
You bit your lip but it did little to stifle the laugh and when Oscar’s deeper laugh joined there was no holding back. The three of you collapsed laughing onto the couch to embrace the beach themed room and you kicked your shoes off to dig your toes into the sand.
“It’s so weird to imagine,” you chuckled, the snow falling outside a complete contradiction to the scene inside. The central heating had been cranked up to its hottest setting and it truly felt like summer. “Christmas is for making snowmen and having hot chocolate by the fire.”
Oscar draped his arm over the back of your cushion and stretched his legs out after his long flight. “How about next year I can take you home to experience this first hand?”
You smiled at the idea but you couldn’t make that commitment by saying yes, even if you wanted nothing more than to make it happen. “Maybe, let’s just see what the year brings. Who knows, you might want to take your girlfriend home.”
He looked at you with a frown. “I don’t have a girlfriend, yet.”
“Exactly, yet.”
“Idiots,” Logan mumbled as he got up. “I’m getting a drink. You guys want one?”
You both thanked him and as he left the room Oscar patted your knee. “Star time.”
You grinned at the fact he remembered your favourite part of setting the tree up and his hands settled on your hips when you reached it. “I can’t be bothered getting the ladder out,” he said before he picked you up. You placed the glittery star on the highest point and adjusted it a few times more than necessary until Oscar laughed and eased you down. But his hands still remained on your hips. “It’s perfect.”
Logan returned and the moment shattered as you took your drink from him and cleared your throat. “Merry Christmas, my orphan friends.”
“Thanks for the adoption,” Logan chuckled. “If I can’t spend Christmas with my family it’s nice to at least have you guys.”
“That probably sounded better in his head,” Oscar teased before raising his glass too. “But he’s right, thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Your cheeks warmed at the smile on his face and you were sure he felt it when he pressed a chaste kiss to one. A little frazzled, you tried to hide the effect he had on you and pointed to the mess on the floor. “Do you think we can build a sandcastle?”
“No, but I think we can build a snowman. Go put your coat on, I know you want to.”
You didn’t have to be told twice and Logan laughed as Oscar followed you to the backyard. “You two have fun, I like the heat more.”
Your breath misted as it hit the chilly air and you rushed to pull your gloves on, something you should have done before stepping outside.
“Here, let me,” Oscar offered, shoving his own in his pocket in the meantime. He took your woollen mittens and held them open for you before tightening the wrists and sealing the warmth that remained inside. “You look like a marshmallow.”
You bent down and started to collect the snow needed to make the first ball and narrowed your eyes at him when he joined you a moment later, his gloves already on. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” he smirked. “Marshmallows are cute.”
“Cute?” You wrinkled your nose and gently nudged him with your shoulder. “Now that’s an insult.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “To you or the marshmallow?”
“Uh, both,” you decided with a definitive nod.
“Okay, sorry,” he apologised and then bit his bottom lip as he stared at you over the growing snowball. “Marshmallows are beautiful and my favourite thing in the whole wide world. I love marshmallows.”
“Wow, weirdo, they aren’t that great.”
Logan had been about to ask if you wanted another drink but instead he closed the kitchen window. “Marshmallows, idiots.”
“Not bad for an Aussie,” you commented as you wrapped your arms around his waist and admired the finished product. “A shame you didn’t have a carrot in your fridge.”
Oscar pushed the cucumber nose in further to stop it drooping down before hugging you tighter. “Or a spare scarf, you must be freezing.” He pulled his own off one and draped it around your neck so yours could stay on the snowman. “Ready to go back in?”
You nodded reluctantly and let him go, following him into the warmth where Logan sat in the leather recliner watching Home Alone. “Nice to see you waited for the rest of us,” Oscar noted as he dropped onto the couch and pulled you down with him.
“You know it word for word.”
“So do you.”
“I ran out of things to do,” he said with a shrug.
Everything had been seen up so you were confused by the statement. “What did you do?”
Logan didn’t answer as he tossed another handful of popcorn in his mouth before blindly pointing in your direction, but higher. You and Oscar looked up and found a small wreath hanging where a picture frame of the Albert Park F1 circuit was, woven into the greenery you spotted it - Mistletoe.
“Dude!” “Mate!”
Logan laughed to himself and kept watching the movie. “You know the rules. Kiss or streak in the snow.”
“I don’t remember it being streaking,” Oscar commented as he turned to you.
You looked at him too, your eyes drifting down to his lips. You had spent countless daydreams imagining how they would feel against yours.
“Don’t overthink it, the rule needed changing,” Logan mumbled. “So…”
“It’s really cold outside,” you murmured as you dragged your eyes back up to meet his.
“Way too cold,” he agreed with the smallest of nods. The air was pregnant with the pause before he exhaled and reached for you. His hand curled behind your nape and drew you closer, so slowly you weren't sure he was going to change his mind or thinking you would. If only he knew.
Your heart thumped loudly as you felt his breath on your skin and your hands found their way to his shoulders and ran along the thick muscles that climbed his neck. “Osc,” you whispered softly as you felt the warmth radiating off his lips but still they didn’t touch.
“Yeah?” he asked, the corners tugging up as he heard the need in your tone.
“Please...”
He pulled back just far enough to see the burning desire in your eyes and his thumb stroked your jawline. “Been waiting years for this.”
You couldn’t tell who moved first, but you both moved together, his mouth slanting over yours perfectly like they were made to complement each other. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you tasted the beer on his tongue when he slipped it between your parted lips with a deep moan.
Popcorn rained over your heads and you broke apart to glare at the very smug looking man responsible. “About fucking time! I love you, but you are both idiots.”
#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you
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𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗣𝗦 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘
pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: matt with a girlfriend who is obsessed with naps/naps all the time
warnings/notes: established relationships, will probably be shorter than the last one 🤍 sorry
- you need coffee all the time
- or just any caffeine
- always nursing a red bull or iced coffee
- probably stopped working to keep you awake after awhile but you gaslight yourself into thinking it does
- you have woken up in matt’s bed with chris beside matt who’s beside you
- like hello? when did you show up and it’s too squished
- slipper socks . . . you have cold feet a lot
- you force matt to take his shoes off if he’s going on the bed. no matte how clean they are
- will not let him leave your naps
- have your own pillow and pillowcase at his house
- always have bags under your eyes
- sometimes you can’t sleep without matt
- like you have to be touching him somehow: legs tangled up, hand holding, something
- have a playlist of just phoebe bridgers songs to fall asleep to (same)
- love stealing and sleeping in his boxers and his shirts
- you’re one of those girls who will just wear shorts and a shirt but refuse to put anything else on if you get cold
- you’ll either cuddle up to matt or get more blankets
- MELATONIN GUMMIES
- you take em’ if you are just not falling asleep cause that happens
- have definitely fallen asleep in matt’s lap or something while he’s playing video games and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up or tell you you’re in the way
- like that feeling when you have to get up when you have a cat in your lap
- sleep in a starfish position unless matt’s there
- nick, chris, and matt have so many 0.5’s of you sleeping
- #mouthbreather
- you’ve almost fallen asleep while you’re out for dinner
- have a shirt/sweater that says ‘i’m tired but i’m being brave about it’
- fall asleep to true crime
- talk about the most confusing and existential stuff and then fall asleep like nothing
- people complain you sleep too much? your just a girl 🎀
- when someone asks you to hang and and you say your busy your probably just taking a nap
- you and matt are always down for a nap
- you’re a sleepy couple
- you will set like 10 alarms to wake you up because you’ll either snooze them or sleep through them
- you always have cold water and chapstick near you when you’re napping/sleeping
- soooo delirious when you first wake up
- you prefer the room or wherever you’re having a nap to be cold
- not like freezing but under the temperature you’d usually have the house/apartment
- sleep focus? 🔛 no one is getting to you unless it’s an emergency
- you’ll text everyone who might try to reach you
- ‘i am having a nap, will not answer for anything cause i’ll be asleep 😌😌’
- matt has gifted toy essential oils or bath salts to help you sleep
- christmas morning with you SUCKS and you admit that. you hate waking up early
- matt will have to drag you out of the room
- all pissed at him and everyone else until you get your gifts or go back to sleep
- fall asleep during movie nights
- you can sleep anywhere and will
- the triplets will get home from somewhere and you’re just on the couch or sitting at their dining room table asleep
- if you don’t want up, matt will just pick you up and carry you to your room
- you’ve dropped your phone on your face before cause you fell asleep watching it
- you won’t admit it out loud . . . but you love asmr
- have a playlist of your favourites
- passenger princess, sleeper edition!
- has a headrest pillow you bought
- blanket ready to go and chair laid back if no one’s behind it
- matt draws shapes on your back
- will nap with best friends
- talk and talk and let everyone know how much you love naps
#emma writes#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets#x fem!reader#x reader#preferences#youtube#youtuber#youtube preferences
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under the mistletoe
married!Leon S Kennedy x engaged!fem!reader
Warnings: 16+, cheating, sex with feelings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving),bathroom sex, mirror sex, modern au but not really because I know their dumbasses don’t have enough friends for a Christmas party, reader has morals until she doesn’t
wc: 2.5k
Yap: I wrote this last year for smutmas LMFAO, posting it here so I’m not forgotten, IM WORKING ON STUFF I SWEAR !! The ending is rushed and bad, and Leon says some corny fucking shit
not proofread, sorry chat
Arm-in-arm with Chris, you make your way up the snowy steps of the brown-bricked house. From the front patio, you could hear the faint sounds of Christmas music and bottles popping.
“I thought you said this was gonna be small.” a faint murmur comes from your lips, disappointment clear in your face from the lie your fiancé told you to get you here. You told him before you weren’t interested in anything noisy or busy or crowded , even told him to visit his friends alone and that you’d be fine waiting for him to get back.
“That’s what they told me too, we can head back—”
“It’s fine. Not gonna keep you from your friends.” Just don’t expect me to be social, you want to add on, but don’t due to the small smile on his face. He’s sweet. Ignorant, but sweet. In his own way, you suppose.
You’re hit with overpowering peppermint and alcohol scent when you walk through the door, christmas spirit aside, the inside looks nice. Warm, inviting, homey, where you should be with Chris but he’s – he presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering a small I’ll be back as he goes to find his buddies – gone.
A price to pay for future happiness.
⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆
You try to distract yourself, pleasantries to mutual friends and others you definitely (do not) remember. If you had more sleep the night before, maybe you’d be up for drinks and dancing and actual conversation rather than this. Whatever this is. “Don’t look too happy to be here either.” A gruff voice from behind you snaps you out of your trance.
“Weren’t you the one that invited us, Leon?” You click your tongue as you turn around to face him, he looks tired but prettily so. Fucker.
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Not one for these, thought you knew me better. Just thought that I’d enjoy it more with people…” he looks you up and down for a fleeting moment, “...like me.”
“Like you in what sense? Alcoholic or asshole?”
“Both, either, neither. Just wanted to see some friends, that’s all.”
You hum and motion with your head, “Chris is over there. Not here.”
“I know.”
The both of you are silent, no matter what you say, you’re sure Leon has a counter. A quip, a joke, something that’s definitely going to get the both of you in trouble. “Guess we’re going with Alcoholic You, then. Drinks?”
“And you say we’re not friends. Let’s go.” He says with a hand sliding to the small of your back, resting right above your ass – too close, too risky for a married man and an engaged woman, too stupid. You bite your tongue and let him lead you to the host’s makeshift bar, saying anything is a reaction and a reaction is what he wants, at least you assume so.
“We’re not. You know this, I know this, maybe even God if we dig deep enough.”
“Okay, well, it’s not that deep so let’s just have a nice night as friends, yeah?”
A sigh leaves you for the nth time that night, “Sure.”
Moving through the seemingly never-ending crowd of drunk couples, you’re soon to realize your mistake of keeping quiet when he stops and looks up, then back at you. Eyebrows furrowed and mood shifted, you follow his eyes up and – “Absolutely not.” a fucking mistletoe. You saw other people under the mistletoe who were most definitely in committed relationships kiss others but that’s not you . You thought it wasn’t him either from the way he looked at Ada. Another terrible assumption.
Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s tradition. ‘S just a kiss, doesn’t need to mean anything.”
“It wouldn’t mean anything if we were both single, but we’re very much fucking not, so–”
“No one’s looking, just us. Chris won’t mind, Ada…won’t either.” A weak excuse, both the mistletoe and his pathetic they don’t need to know . “Friends kiss.”
“Right, you mean unmarried ones. On the cheek. Platonically.”
“Will you just–” He groans as he cups your face in his hands and pulls you to meet his lips, sloppily and messily kissing you and licking the seam of your lips. You stumble and he pushes you against the kitchen archway, guests too unbothered to realize what’s going on in front of them. For a moment, you kiss back, hands tugging on his hair – girlfriend, fiancée, wife – you pull away with a sharp gasp, heavy worry and guilt.
Now you really need that fucking drink.
You blink up at him, “Wish I could’ve done more.” He speaks, fighting himself for being weak but also not regretting a thing because it’s you and he definitely wants you. “Looking real pretty tonight and Chris is an idiot for leaving his soon-to-be-wife alone. So really, this is his fault.”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“For you.”
You hate him for going against your wishes, hate him for making a joke about it, hate the fact that despite everything, you liked it . Whore, Slut, Hoe, all of the above and definitely not the loyal fiancée you promised you’d be. “This can’t–can’t happen again.”
“Right.” He whispers, soft and hushed, had you not known any better, you might’ve thought he was sorry.
You turn to leave and avoid him for the rest of the night, suddenly feeling confident enough to be social after all to get your mind off what the fuck just happened. But nothing works. Not drinks or jokes or even Chris himself. Ironically, he points out the mistletoe and drags you under it to kiss you.
It’s firm, possessive and used to make you feel giddy but all you feel right now is unadulterated shame. All that’s swirling through your mind isn’t the loops of red and green christmas streamers and tinsel – it’s Leon. You two didn’t even talk much, don’t know how you caught his eye or why he’d want you when he has a pretty wife of 2 years with him.
You pull away and Chris gives you another quick peck, “Know you don’t like stuff like this, I appreciate it, really.” he whispers, and you feel like a bitch again. He’s so – he’s too good for you. “When we get back, ‘ll make sure to make it up to you.”
You smile, all weary and shy, too bad while he’s fucking you, you’ll be imagining someone else. “Can’t wait.” Before you can even be pulled away by Chris again, a hand slides up your back and another on Chris’ shoulder.
Fuck fuck fuck. Someone saw you and is going to tell Chris. Say goodbye to stability and long-lasted love and–
“Get a room, will you?” Leon says as he pats Chris’ shoulder, a little more forceful than needed, but if Chris noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Had Ada rolling her eyes at the two of you more than usual. A new record.”
You force a tight smile while Chris is at ease, “Of course you two have the most shit to say.” he chuckles.
“Mhm, yeah, so, mind if I borrow you for a minute?” Leon’s hand falls from Chris’ shoulder as he looks at you.
“Um.” Chris was a patient man, really was, but if you’re uncomfortable, he’s uncomfortable, and right now–
“Sure, just make it quick.” You mutter, glancing at Chris with a nervous smile, “I’ll be back.”
⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆
How you ended up in a half-bathroom with Leon, perched up onto the sink counter with your legs wrapped around his waist will always be beyond you. He kissed you like he did before, almost holding no rhythm as he did it like it’d be the last time. “Fucking–” he groaned, “beautiful.” He pulled away briefly to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Shouldn’t be admitting that, it's– oh –not okay.” It’s definitely not okay that you’re here with him, and it’s definitely not okay that him biting you is enough to make you shudder. How the fuck are you going to explain this to Chris? Leon bit me to test out my skin durability?
“I know, just can’t help it when it’s you. Sweet girl, always on my mind.” He tried, really did. Tried being happy when Chris introduced you, tried ignoring how sweet you looked, tried ignoring you and the image of eating you out that kept him warm on many lonely nights. Couldn’t even do it with Ada without your face popping up in his head when he came. “Would ask if you thought of me, too, but I guess we both know the answer to that.”
He knew, knew that as much as he wanted you, up until now it was Chris. The hopeful part of him convinces himself you just buried it deep down like him and that’s why he can finally be between your pretty legs, pressed up against your pretty body and soon enough, pretty pussy. You make him feel dizzy.
“Leon–”
“Yeah, just keep sayin’ my name and that’ll make it better.” He kisses you for good measure, thinks that if you say anything other than his name or oh god, he’ll lose it. You tug on his hair again and he groans, “Let me eat you out, needa give that pretty pussy just as much kisses.”
He doesn’t give you time to retaliate or even think about what he said before pushing your dress up and dropping to his knees, kissing up your thighs and removing your panties. He makes sure to put your legs over his shoulders, tongue delving right onto your pussy. Your fingers latch onto his hair and he gives you a muffled groan.
Your plush thighs push against his face and, fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever had, he won’t need alcohol after this because you’re just as addicting, if not more, as he drinks in your pussy like he’s parched. “ Fuckk ,” he groans into you, all muffled and slurred “ tastes so fucking good.”
Your legs are shaking and thank-fucking-god you’re sitting on the sink counter, music blasts from outside as you pant and moan while his tongue flicks with fucking talent. His mouth makes you feel dizzy, even more so when he plunges two fingers inside your cunt, his eyebrows furrow when you pull particularly hard – heaven is what he thinks.
He concentrates his lips and tongue on your clit as you rock against his face, “ Leon,” you gasp, nearly crying out above him and yes, his imagination didn’t do you any justice because his name falling from your lips is a wet dream.
He taps your thigh, voice all hoarse and strained, “Gotta keep quiet, can’t have them seeing you like this – this is for me .” He’s so hard it hurts but he’ll endure anything just so you’ll come on his fingers and tongue.
You whine, biting your lip to keep in your sounds and he feels your body trembling , the pressure of his tongue was insistent and your body twitched when his fingers aligned with the rhythm of his tongue, “oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck,’ you cover your mouth as you let out a muffled cry, legs wrapping around his head so tight he can barely breathe but holy shit does he not care.
You come, blissed out and shaking – he thinks you’re pretty. He’s an idiot for this, he really doesn’t care.
He presses a small kiss to your thigh, getting up off his knees as his thumb rubs small circles on your skin, “You okay?” he whispers, mouth sore and dick straining against his pants makes his voice low.
“Mmhmm,” you reply dumbly and slurred, “never better.”
He feels pride swell up in his chest when you say that, he made you feel good – better than Chris keeps replaying in his mind. “Not done with you yet, can you stand?”
“Maybe in 5 minutes.” He doesn’t have 5 minutes, you don't have 5 minutes – he needs it now. He helps you off the counter and pushes you forward, bending you over the sink. You faintly hear the sound of fabric and metal before feeling him slide between your folds and nudge against your entrance. “Leon–”
“Need it, honey. Gonna give it to me, yeah?”
Fuck it, you’ve made it this far. “Yeah.” you say breathlessly.
You can’t mutter out another word when he doesn’t wait a second more to slide into you, his nails dimpling spots on your hips when he grips tighter. You cry out when he pulls out and shoves himself to the hilt, his left hand covering your mouth, “ Quiet.” he hisses, groaning when he snaps his hips again, not stopping until his rhythm is relentless.
Whines and moans are faded against his hand, he’s panting and groaning against your ear, “Feels –fuckk – so much fucking better than I imagined.” he pulls his hand and your head back a little so you’re looking in the mirror. Fuck explaining a bite mark to Chris – you’re a mess. Sweat dripping from your forehead and eyes glossy as you look blissed out and absolutely fucked . “See that?” he shudders, “That’s us, you don’t take your fucking eyes off it.”
You nod quickly against his hand as the room fills with the sound of skin against skin and choked back moans and panting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look in the mirror, Leon’s face is flushed and his hair is wet with sweat as he fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
He watches your face as you take all of him, all pretty and teary-eyed, you’ve ruined him for everyone else. “I'm gonna come again,” your voice is faint against his hand, barely able to even get out any words because he has you teetering on the edge as his balls slap against your clit. You feel yourself tightening around his cock and his hips stutter.
“Shit–that right?” You nod eagerly as you keep your eyes on him, “atta girl, ‘m gonna get at least 3 out of you.”
“I c’nt–”
“Yes you can,” he slurs, “for me, you fucking can.”
Your walls clamp down on him hard, spasming from your second orgasm, and he moans. He bites his lip as he pulls out, warm come spurting on your ass as he holds onto the counter in front of you for balance, chest pressed against your back. ‘ Fuck. ” he moans.
Your eyelids flutter when he licks his lips and presses a small kiss onto your shoulder. “Jesus Christ, leon. I dunno if I can…do another.” you pant.
“Don’t have a choice, honey, just need you ontop of me.”
You open your mouth to speak but a sharp knock hits against the bathroom door, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I gotta piss n – oh okay.” footsteps retreat and you look at Leon, huffing out a small laugh.
“Gonna have to wait.”
“A real shame.’
You straighten yourself on shaky legs and look in the mirror, “oh my fucking–”
“I’ll get you an Uber and tell Chris you started feeling sick.” he offers. Right. Chris. Fiancé, love of your life Chris. Shit. “It was worth it.” he breaks your train of thought, “Good thing we didn’t break tradition.”
You swallow. “Right.”
He kisses you, slower this time.
Happy-fucking-holidays to you.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy x y/n#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy smut#leon smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil x you#leonfucker3000#♱ . * . * 3000s Fics
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the old college try
pairing: frat dad!joel miller x college student!female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 5.1k
summary:
Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned house parties on frat row following the game. It’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang.
Literally.
Enter Joel Miller, handsome single dad visiting his son at the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house.
dear reader:
this is an extremely self-indulgent fic that i just had to write, so i hope you enjoy it! if you do, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3
content warnings:
explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), alternate universe - no outbreak/no sarah, age difference (42M and 23F), dub con - sex under the influence of alcohol, no use of y/n, frat party stereotypes, keg stands and beer pong, semi-public sex (frat bathroom), mild daddy kink (not during sex), p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, cheesy dad jokes, the university of texas as a plot device. please let me know if any are missing!
You turn over in your bed with a deep groan, burying your face into your pillow. You reach your arm out from under the covers to grab your phone from the nightstand, smacking your hand around the wood surface until you find it and can bring it under the covers with you. Turning over, you tap the screen and squint at the series of unread text messages.
Ashley: Get up bitch!
Ashley: It’s time to get ready!
Ashley: We’re going to be late if you don’t get up
Ashley: Don’t make me break into your apartment
Ashley: You know I can
You sit up quickly, shoving the blankets off of you and rushing to the front door, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Your best friend is across the threshold, knelt down on the ground with two bobby pins held up and her eyes wide in surprise.
“Aw man,” she laments, standing and brushing off her knees. “I wanted to test my skills.”
“I’m not paying to replace the lock,” you chastise, stepping back to let her in. “Sorry, overslept.”
“Figured. I’ll get your coffee started,” she replies, heading for your kitchen while you head back to your bedroom to start your morning routine. “Guess which frat is hosting the tailgate today?”
“Which one?” You shout from the bathroom as you run through your skincare routine.
“Theta Lambda Upsilon,” Ashley shouts back. The scent of brewing coffee paired with this excellent news has you perking up immediately.
Your friend steps into your room with two mugs in her hands, passing one to you as you exit the bathroom and sit at your cluttered vanity, pushing aside products to make room to set your mug down. Ashley sits on your bed, folding her legs beneath her.
“The hottest frat hosting the tailgate and after party means we’ll get to see the hottest dads this weekend,” she says, shimmying her shoulders excitedly. “It’s simple genetics.”
“You dropped genetics. Remember? You couldn’t handle an 8 am class,” you say as you apply mascara.
“I went to enough classes to know how a Punnett square works.”
You laugh, finishing your makeup between long sips of coffee. “It’s amazing you couldn’t tough it out through an early semester but give you an afternoon game and you’re trying to break into my apartment at the crack of dawn.”
“It’s DILF Day, baby. It’s like waking up on Christmas morning.”
Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned tailgates and house parties on frat row following the game.
As an out-of-state student, your parents have always skipped Family Weekend in exchange for buying your plane tickets back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, which leaves you with plenty of opportunity to ogle the hot dads that descend upon campus on this glorious weekend. You’ve never had the guts to actually pursue anything with anyone, but it’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang.
Literally.
“What are you going to wear?” Ashley asks.
“Shorts and that new tank top I got,” you reply, finishing your makeup with a pop of your lips after applying gloss. “And boots. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Ashley nods as you rifle through your closet for the outfit in question - denim cutoffs and orange Texas Longhorn tank top that hugs your curves and shows off the perfect amount of cleavage. Finishing the look with your worn brown cowgirl boots, you spin for your friend who gives you a thumbs up. “Sexy. I reckon’ this year you’ll catch yourself a DILF.”
You roll your eyes. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Joel’s arm hangs out the truck’s open window, fingers tapping against the hot metal as he drives down the highway towards the Austin campus of the University of Texas. It’s Family Weekend and his son, Sean, started his sophomore semester at UT a few weeks prior and now lives in the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house on campus after proving to Joel that he would take his classes seriously by doing well his freshman year. Joel’s always been close with his son as a single dad and the fact that Sean asked him to Family Weekend feels like a testament to that bond.
The campus is already bustling with the game day crowd, trucks parked in grassy areas along the road with their tailgates down, people setting up tents and tables and coolers. Joel drives slowly down the street until he’s turning down a side road and parking down the hidden drive his son had given him instructions to find. He hops from the truck, sneakers hitting the hot pavement and the sun already beating down on his arms as he makes his way towards the TLU house a couple blocks away.
There’s a huge crowd of students and parents in shades of burnt orange and white on the front lawn of the two story fraternity house, red solo cups or cans of beer in hand. Joel looks around until he hears a familiar voice calling out, “Dad!”
Sean emerges from the crowd dressed in a white polo shirt with an orange Longhorn logo on the chest tucked into khaki pants, his curly brown hair slicked back with gel. Joel smiles, hugging his son and patting him on the back in greeting.
“Been ages since I saw you, kid. Have you gotten taller?” Joel asks.
Sean rolls his eyes. “You saw me last weekend!”
A voice calls out Sean’s name and the younger man throws an arm around Joel’s shoulders, dragging him along into the packed fraternity house. The scene inside is not unlike all the ones he’s seen in movies and TV shows - flags stuck to the walls as decor, a mysteriously sticky floor, and kitchen countertops filled with booze. Sean stops and grabs a red plastic cup, handing it to Joel.
“Pick your poison,” Sean instructs, grabbing his own cup. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.
“Last I checked, you weren’t twenty-one,” he chastises, earning him another eye roll.
“Like you didn’t know Uncle Tommy was buying me beer when I was a senior.”
“He what?” Joel asks, though the question is lost in the noise as Sean leads him to an impressive back deck hosting a beer pong table and two kegs nestled in plastic trash cans and surrounded by ice.
Sean slips into the crowd surrounding the kegs, taking Joel’s cup from his hands, pumping the tap and filling each cup with ice cold beer, handing one to Joel.
“Go Longhorns,” Sean says, tapping his cup to Joel’s and chugging the contents. Joel watches his twenty-year-old son with wide eyes and a torn conscience.
“This is what I’m payin’ tuition for, huh?” He teases, taking a single sip of the cheap beer. A cheer erupts from behind him and he turns to look at what’s causing so much excitement.
You and a friend are at one end of a plastic folding table, glaring daggers at two boys at the other end, a single solo cup set on the table in front of you. You have a white ping pong ball held delicately between two fingers, your other hand propped on your hip as you squint one eye shut to take your aim for the cup that sits in front of the boys. You let the ball fly and it sinks into the cup, another cheer going through the small crowd gathered around you as you jump up and down excitedly.
Sean approaches the boys, slapping one of them on the shoulder. One of them shouts, “Redemption shot!”
“Oh, please! You can’t aim for shit, Chad!” You shout back.
“Celebrity shot, then!” He suggests. The boy, Chad, reaches out to pull an older man to his side. “Dad edition!”
Your eyes scan the crowd, landing on Joel. You wave him over, the older man glancing around briefly before pointing to himself to confirm. You nod, smile bright as he approaches.
“I need a daddy for this celebrity shot, you wanna do the honors?” You ask sweetly. Joel swallows nervously, face heating at the suggestive tone and look you’re giving him.
“Come on, dad!” Sean calls out. “Show ‘em what a Miller man can do!”
“Yeah,” you chime in. “Show me what a Miller man can do.”
“Alright, fine,” Joel acquiesces, moving to stand beside you. You slip a ping pong ball into his hand, standing so close beside him that your bare arm brushes his as you both watch Chad’s dad take aim for the single cup.
The ball soars through the air, hitting the rim of the cup and bouncing off onto the table, rolling to the ground as the men groan. He feels you place a hand on his shoulder, your lips close to his ear as you whisper, “Come on, Mr. Miller. You’re my only hope.”
It doesn’t escape Joel’s notice that you keep your hand on his shoulder as he takes aim and throws the ball across the table, sinking it into the cup. You’re throwing your arms around his shoulders in celebration as the people around you shout excitedly. On instinct, Joel’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before coming to his senses and taking a step back.
“Thanks,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m going to go inside for a drink. You want anything? I’ve got a stash of IPAs in a friend’s fridge upstairs if you want something better than Miller Lite. Consider it a thank you for winning me bragging rights over Chad.”
Joel should say no. He shouldn’t be taking up drink offers from someone half his age, but you’re giving him another devastating smile that has his resolve folding faster than a lawn chair in a hurricane.
“Sure.”
The hottest man you’ve ever seen is currently following you upstairs to your friend Craig’s room for a beer. He’s tall and tan with sweet brown eyes and dark hair that looks like it would be a dream to run your fingers through. His broad chest and toned biceps press deliciously at the confines of the white UT Longhorns shirt he’s wearing. When he stepped up beside you to throw your celebrity shot at the beer pong table downstairs, you’d noted that his left hand featured no wedding band or a tan line of one left behind.
You reach the second floor and head for the last door on the right, marked with a PRESIDENT plaque. You reach into the pocket for the key Craig had given you earlier and let yourself inside, heading for the mini fridge in the corner and grabbing two Yellow Rose IPA cans.
“So,” you say, handing the man one of the drinks. “You got a name, or should I keep calling you Mr. Miller?”
“It’s Joel,” he says, taking a long sip of the beer. You watch the muscles of his throat work, longing to press your lips against the tan skin.
You tell him your name, holding a hand out to him for a handshake. His grip is tight, sturdy, and for a brief moment you think about how his sure, thick fingers would feel deep inside of you. He looks around the room curiously as he pulls his hand back.
“Craig and I have been friends since freshman year,” you explain. “I helped him pass calculus, he lets me keep my beer out of the grubby hands of his frat brothers.”
“Calculus, huh?” He asks, taking another sip. “Must mean you’re pretty smart.”
“Just a basic engineering prerequisite,” you joke.
“Engineering? That’s impressive.”
You take a seat on Craig’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. Joel’s eyes track the movement and you smile, giddy at the attention. “What do you do, Mr. Miller?”
“Thought you were gonna call me Joel?”
“Mm, I can think of a few things to call you.”
Joel nearly spits his mouthful of beer out, choking on the bitter drink. You rush towards him, patting him on the back as he coughs. After a moment of fighting for breath, the man seems to realize how close you are, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, trailing down to your chest.
You lean in a little closer, pressing yourself to him and you think this might be it, Joel Miller might be the DILF of your dreams as he leans into you as well.
But the doorknob rattles and the door swings open, Joel jumping back in surprise as both of you turn to look at the doorway. Craig leans against the frame, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes.
“Hey,” he says, looking between you and Joel. “Ashley’s lookin’ for you downstairs. We’re headin’ to the stadium now.”
“I better find Sean, then,” Joel says. Craig’s eyes light up.
“You’re Miller’s dad? Hey, man, nice to finally meet you. I’m Craig, TLU president.” The men shake hands, patting each other on the back. “Sean’s a good kid, we’re happy to have him.”
“Good to hear,” Joel replies.
“Well, guess I’ll go find Ashley.” You place a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Maybe I’ll see you later?” You let your hand trail down the man’s bicep as you leave and you watch his throat work around a nervous swallow.
“Yeah, sure,” he says. “See you later.”
The Longhorns pull off an impressive win, a 49-0 blowout against Oklahoma that has the entire campus celebrating with abandon. If Joel thought the TLU house was packed for the tailgate, that crowd was nothing compared to the after game party. More alcohol, more people, and more noise is packed into the house. Joel sticks close to Sean, meeting more of his frat brothers and their parents with shouted introductions.
When the stale air inside the house gets too overwhelming, Sean leads him to the deck. More kegs have appeared and his son bumps him with his shoulder, nodding towards where a few people are gathered around one, a man hoisted upside down by two people gripping his legs as he chugs directly from the keg tap. He spits the valve out as the crowd shouts a chorus of, “Twenty!”
“I bet you could do better,” Sean says. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.
“I know what you’re doin’, kid, and it ain’t gonna work,” Joel replies. Sean puts his hands up.
“I’m not doin’ anythin’. But if you’re too scared, you can tell me.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Hey, my dad’s got next!” Sean shouts, dragging Joel through the crowd with an arm around his shoulders. Joel tries to argue but a familiar face in the crowd has the words dying on his tongue. You wiggle your fingers at him in a wave and suddenly he has the motivation to execute the most impressive keg stand of his life.
Joel grabs the cold handles of the keg, Sean and one of his fraternity brothers lifting him into the air so that he’s suspended upside down over the barrel of beer. People begin counting, shouting numbers as he attempts to focus on the beer flooding his mouth and drinking it down steadily. It’s been a long time since he’s done one of these, probably before Sean was even born, but if there’s one thing Joel has never been, it's a quitter.
After what feels like forever he spits the valve out with a gasp and he gets lowered back to ground as the crowd shouts, “Thirty-four!”
Sean’s frat brothers jump around him excitedly, hands patting him on the back and cheering his name. He laughs as Sean starts yelling, “That’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about!”
Movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he turns his head just in time to see you disappear into the house. He tells Sean he’ll be back in a minute and follows after you, craning his neck to scan the mass of bodies crammed inside until he spots you on the stairs.
When he finally manages to reach the stairs, he’s surprised to find them roped off at the bottom. Looking around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, he ducks beneath the barrier, taking the steps two at a time. The second floor is dark and empty but light spills into a hall from beneath the last door marked PRESIDENT.
Joel knocks on the wood, his head a little light from the rush of alcohol in his system but it has him feeling good.
Confident.
Maybe a little too confident because when you open the door, he wraps an arm around your waist, pushing his way inside as his lips find yours, a little noise of surprise swallowed by him as his tongue explores yours.
He comes to his senses when your teeth nip at his bottom lip, jarring him back to a reality where he is a mature adult who thinks with his brain and not his dick. He grips you on the shoulders, breaking the kiss and holding you at arm's length.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t even ask if it was okay to kiss you, just came bargin’ in here like a bull in a goddamn china shop and you probably don’t even want—“
“Joel?” You interrupt. He blinks.
“Yeah?” He asks.
“Kiss me again.”
Joel kisses you again, but pulls away a second time to ask, “Wait, how old are you?”
“Twenty-three,” you reply, giggling as he mutters a low thank god before pulling you back into his arms. It’s another short lived kiss, the man leaning back once more as you huff in annoyance.
“Wait, how much have you had to drink?” He asks this time.
“Less than you, Mr. Thirty-Four-Second Keg Stand,” you answer. He gives you a smirk that has your stomach doing somersaults.
“You liked that, huh?”
His hands slip into the back pockets of your shorts and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. Your heart is racing as he pulls you even closer and runs his hands up your back, warm palms exploring your curves like he’s trying to map them to memory.
You’re lost enough in each other that the sound of the door opening doesn’t register until an upset voice is saying, “Ugh, come on! No fucking in my room!”
“Shit,” you yelp, tearing yourself away from Joel. Craig is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. You grab Joel’s hand and tug him towards the door of the en-suite bathroom, pulling him inside and slamming the door behind you, flipping the lock.
“Hey, wait a minute—“
“It’s not your room, Craig!” You yell through the wood. There’s a muffled curse from the other side.
“Condoms are under the sink,” he shouts back. You grin victoriously at Joel, who’s laughing so hard he has a hand pressed to his chest. You step up to him, grabbing that hand and bringing it around your waist.
“You sure about this?” Joel asks seriously, stepping forward until he’s crowding you against the door. You tilt your head up to look at his handsome face, his dark eyes so intense as he searches your face that you feel giddy.
“I mean, the location isn’t ideal, but at least Craig keeps his bathroom pretty clean,” you joke, noting the clear counter space and surprising lack of dirty clothing littering the floor.
“Answer the question, sweetheart. You sure about doing this with me?”
You reach up, tangling your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him close until your lips graze his as you respond, “I’m so fucking sure.”
Whatever tether of control Joel had been holding onto seems to snap with your words, the man kissing you so roughly that all you can do is hold on, your fingers curling desperately against his scalp as his tongue dives into your mouth and tangles with yours. He tastes like beer and smells like a mixture of cedar and sweat, the combination intoxicating as he presses close and surrounds you with it.
Joel trails his lips across your jaw, nipping your earlobe before continuing down your neck. He sucks the thin skin over your pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue as you writhe against him, gasping at the sensation. You can feel his smile against your shoulder and as he presses a thigh between your legs, you get a brief feel of his hard cock behind the barrier of his basketball shorts.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls, hands trailing across your curves until he’s gripping one of your breasts, squeezing tightly.
“Not so bad yourself,” you moan. He chuckles darkly.
“The mouth on you.” He reaches two fingers into the low neck of your tank top, dragging it down over your breasts. He yanks the cups of your bra down in a similar fashion, the fabric bunched beneath your chest to expose your tight nipples to him. He dips his head down and wraps his lips around a tight bud, pulling it into his mouth as you gasp.
“Could show you some other things my mouth is good at,” you tell him as he releases your breast with a wet pop, lifting his head to look at you.
“I have a better idea,” he says, dropping to his knees. He lifts one of your legs and wiggles your boot off, tossing it to the side before doing the same with the other.
“What are you doing?” You ask when his hands reach for the fly of your shorts. He pauses, looking up at you with concern.
“I was plannin’ on eatin’ you out until you couldn’t think straight,” he says. His brows pinch together. “Do you not want that?”
“I-I’m not sure? I mean, no one’s ever…,” your sentence trails off, your eyes going wide.
Joel runs a soothing hand down your thigh, smiling up at you. “That’s a damn shame, baby. Let me show you how a real man takes care of a woman.”
You let him work your shorts and panties down your thighs, stepping out of them with a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He lifts one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze. His eyes flick up to your face and he grins as he says, “Pretty all over, aren’t ya?”
Any smart reply you have died on your tongue as he starts kissing the sensitive skin of your thighs, starting at the knee that’s close to his face and moving up, up, up until you can feel his warm breath on your pussy. His tongue flicks across your clit, featherlight, but it’s enough to have you gasping his name.
He starts a rhythm of messy swirls of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping down to your entrance, the tip of his nose still brushing your clit and making you moan. You buck against his face and he immediately grasps your hips in his big hands, fingers curling into the flesh of your ass to hold you still as he lavishes your pussy with attention.
“Oh my god,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He groans at the same time his lips wrap around your clit and the sound of his satisfaction has your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing through your veins and making you feel like you’re on fire.
You feel breathless as he licks you slowly, thoroughly, his tongue making sure he’s gotten every last drop of your release. He leans back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder. His lips and chin are coated in your wetness, shiny in the light of the bathroom vanity, the sight making your cheeks feel hot and a nervous giggle spill free.
Joel grins, boyish and sweet. “Good?” He asks.
“Great. Amazing,” you concur. “Ten out of ten. Your Yelp review will be glowing.”
“Shouldn't I be the one leavin’ the Yelp review? You were the meal after all.”
You blink at him. “Oh my god, that was so bad,” you say, laughter near hysterical.
He stands, his palms cupping your face and pulling you into a filthy kiss that quickly shuts you up, his tongue slowly exploring yours and introducing the musky taste of yourself to your taste buds. You reach down, palming his hard cock through his shorts and the responding groan you receive from the older man has you clenching in anticipation.
Joel breaks the kiss, pulling you against his body and turning until you’re facing the vanity, your hips pressed to the edge of the laminate counter. You watch his reflection in the mirror as he runs a hand down your back, pressing you forward slightly so that you’re bent over the counter, ass slightly tilted up. His hand continues lower until it’s running reverently over one cheek. He catches your eye in the mirror.
“You gonna let me fuck you just like this?” He asks. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace through your folds, one dipping into your entrance. He watches your face in the mirror, eyes dark and expression serious. “Answer me.”
“Fuck, yes, anything,” you say quickly. He thrusts his finger slowly, curling it against your front wall with every pull from your body. One finger becomes two, the slight stretch making you whine as he continues to work them in and out of you. “Joel, please.”
“Please what, baby?” He asks.
“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him.
Joel grins, removing his fingers and urging you to the side so he can open the cabinet under the sink. He crouches down, rummaging through the contents for a moment before standing with a victorious expression and a foil packet pinched between his fingers. He shoves his basketball shorts and boxers down his thighs, just low enough to free his impressive cock, thick and long with a slight curve up that has your mouth watering. He rolls the condom on and then grabs your hips, the tip of his length sliding through your folds and making your breath catch.
“You ready, baby?” He asks, squeezing your hips. You meet his gaze in the reflection, your lips tilted in a smirk.
“Been ready for a while, old man,” you tease. He raises his eyebrows and draws his hand back, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you crying out.
Before the sting even fades, he’s pushing inside of you with one steady thrust until his hips are flush to your ass. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter and you lift onto your tiptoes, trying to escape the sudden sensation of his cock stretching you so well. He chuckles darkly, tight hands on your hips keeping you from going too far.
“Old man,” he taunts, mimicking the higher pitch of your voice. He reaches forward, palm resting beneath your chin as his fingers and thumb press into your cheeks, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his in the mirror as he says, “Eyes up, sweetheart. You watch how this old man fucks you.”
Joel draws his hips back and slams forward, the head of his cock burying so deep inside of you that your eyes roll back from the exquisite stretch and pressure. He sets a rhythm that has a constant string of moans and pleas spilling from your parted lips, a slow pull out and a rough push in that makes you see stars. If you dare to let your chin drop or your eyes shut, the strong hand around your throat reminds you of his demand that you watch.
“That feel good, baby?” He grunts. “My cock in this tight fuckin’ pussy?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“That’s right, who’s fuckin’ you so good? Say my name, sweetheart, wanna hear it from that pretty mouth.”
“Joel!” You cry out, the tight coil of pleasure in your belly finally unraveling, your cunt pulsing greedily around his cock as you cum. He curses, his rhythm going sloppy as he fucks you through your release and right into his own.
His hand leaves your throat and his head drops to your shoulder, soft kisses being left on your shoulder blades as you both catch your breath. After a long moment, he pulls back from you, removing the condom and tying it off to toss it in the garbage.
You straighten up from your bent position over the counter, fixing your bra and tank top back into place. Turning, you find Joel holding your shorts and panties.
“Was that…are you…did you—“
You lean into him as you grab your clothes, kissing him softly. Pulling back, you murmur, “That was amazing.”
Joel sighs in relief, watching as you get dressed and tug your boots back on. “Good. That’s…good.”
“Why don’t you head downstairs first? I need to freshen up,” you suggest. Joel nods, but doesn’t make a move to leave. You raise your eyebrows at him and that seems to have him getting the hint.
“Oh! Right, I’ll just…go downstairs,” he says. You giggle, leaning into him for one more kiss before he disappears from the bathroom and you busy yourself with fixing your appearance to look a little less well fucked.
Downstairs, Joel wanders through the first floor in search of his son. He feels a flash of guilt for leaving him for so long, especially to fuck a woman half his age in a frat house bathroom, but the guilt is short lived when he finds his son with his tongue down the throat of a blonde girl in the living room.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, turning to head for the front door instead. It’s getting late and now seems like a good time to head home.
He’s a few steps out the front door when he hears his name called out and you appear from the doorway.
“You heading out so soon?” You ask, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he kind of wants to kiss from your lips. He runs a nervous hand through his hair.
“Uh, yeah. Was gonna head home,” he says. Christ, he has no idea why he’s acting so weird, but you have him tied up in knots.
“You know…my apartment isn’t far. Maybe…maybe you don’t have to go home just yet?” You say, looking up at him through your lashes.
Those knots of uncertainty loosen and Joel holds a hand out to you.
“Lead the way, baby.”
Joel Miller Masterlist
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel tlou#no use of y/n#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller tlou#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou hbo#tw age gap#tw age difference
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📸 BETTER THAN REVENGE
synopsis. after a fight with sirius, regulus comes to his girlfriend sulking and she decides to have a little talk with his older brother.
notes. regulus black x malfoy!reader
you and regulus had many more similarities than anyone could guess just by simply looking at the two of you. the most obvious included your background — ancient, pureblood families, who were nuts about purity, both in slytherin, both richer than most of the hogwarts students together, and in everyone’s eyes you were petty, stubborn and pretentious.
you two were petty and seemed pretentious, but it wasn’t all that. the two of you both had siblings, who maybe cared about you in some way, but never showed it well enough for you to be sure they cared. you were sure sirius cared, but you weren’t sure if lucius did. your brother was far from being a family guy.
both you and regulus were also painfully ambitious, and it kind of made the two of you so close as you were paired to one group in slughorn’s classes, and to secure yourself a top spot, you had to work together. and so half a year later, you were planning a trip to france, lying next to each other on the bed in his dorm.
after that one summer everything has changed, and now you two were an official couple, though not many people knew since neither of you wanted to make a big deal out of it. the amount of classes you shared had shrunken since you took different ones, but it just made your bond stronger.
it all happened on a week before both of you were supposed to return to your respective houses (though, regulus would be staying at potter’s), you were wrapping your present for barty, when your boyfriend stormed into the room. pandora, who sat there with you, claimed she would leave you two alone and left. you could easily see that something happened from the look on his face.
“reg,” you began, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden appearance. “is everything alright, love?” a soft ask left your lips as he just laid down on your bed, face buried in a pillow.
silence filled your room right after you finished your sentence. it was time for you to just sigh quietly, putting a hand on his back and scratching it gently. “you know you can talk to me, right?” your soft tone and the sensation of your nails on his back made him grunt.
“i’m not leaving for christmas.” he stated, catching you a little off guard. you were sure it was about the upcoming christmas ball that slughorn threw and since you were invited, regulus was ought to go with you. “i… got into a fight with sirius, so either we make up or i’m gonna go to my parents.” now, he was looking at you with misery and sadness flickering in his eyes.
“he thinks james is more of a brother to him than i am.” regulus adds, his head now resting on top of your laps as you play with his hair, trying to comfort him at least a little. “and he says it’s not that big of a deal, since i consider evan and barty my brothers and i’d probably say that they’re more of brothers to me than he is, but that’s not true.”
his words made your heart ache. it was clear to everyone in your friend group (including remus, who often just tagged along) to know how much regulus needed sirius’ validation, how much he needed to be reassured that he doesn’t hate him as much as regulus thought he did.
“i know we haven’t talked until he moved out, but it still hurts.” he whispered, not even looking you in the eyes. “and he doesn’t even recognize how much he means to me. he’s the only one in our entire family that matters more than everything. i got his initials and constellations tattooed and he thinks i would choose barty and evan over him?”
“you’re brother is an idiot, and i mean it.” you murmured, showering his head with kisses. if regulus was in his usual mood, he would say he just acts like an idiot, but now? he didn’t even want to defend him. “i’ll stay with you. i’d go nuts if i had to spend a minute with lucius.” you say softly, fingers running through his hair.
it took you a few more minutes to comfort him enough to leave your dorm for his evening practice, and even though you were supposed to finish packing your presents before christmas. you had to talk to one, annoying gryffindor, who was no other than sirius black.
getting into their common room was easy, lily, friend of a friend of yours, let you in after hearing your explanation, showing you how to get into sirius’ dorm that he shared with james, remus and peter. “one of you better hold me or i might kill your friend.” you let out, looking specifically remus, who looked at you with a glint of surprise.
“what did he do again?” lupin asked, his expression scolding. “what’re you doin’ here, malfoy?” peter began, but before he could elaborate, remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head as you looked for the perfect words.
“how can you be such an asshole, black?” you hissed, the end of your wand pointed at his throat. “one time you’re all on being the best older brother you can, but next time all i see in yourself is my brother, and believe me, that’s the furthest from a compliment.”
“i’m not done, yet.” your teeth gritted, eyes narrowed at him. “he’d never choose anyone over you, yet you’d always choose him —” you looked at james for half a second, then turned your eyes to sirius, again. “— over your own brother, who’d jump into flames just if you asked him to? unbelievable.” you sighed, putting your wand down, sliding it into your boot. “and you know what’s the worst in all that? that i wish he’d pick anyone else over you, but he won’t, because he can’t even get mad at you for not choosing him, he’s just sad.”
the atmosphere in the room is so tense, someone could cut it with knife. “you’re an idiot for making regulus feel so little about himself, and y’all are idiots for letting him.” another sight left your lips as your eyes were locked with sirius. “maybe even regulus will let you treat him like shit, but i won’t, black. i’ll make sure to haunt your dreams and turn them into nightmares, i can promise you that.” you gave him your most ironical smile. “i’m a malfoy, don’t underestimate me, cutie pie.” you sent him a wink,
“protective girlfriend, huh?” remus chuckled as you passed him, giving you a high-five. “oh you bet, lupin.” and you left, sirius almost shamless at your sudden outburst, but… it was quite impressive — though, he’d never admit it.
you haven’t seen neither of them till the next morning at breakfast, when they walked to the great hall together, talking about something until each of them got to their respective tables. “what did you do?” regulus asked, sitting on the bench beside you.
“what?” you asked with a sweet smile, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “just had a small talk with sirius, why?”
“a small talk? with the tip of your wand pressed against his throat?” you nodded at his words, sending him a fake-puzzled look. “you know i love you?” he bit back a smile, leaning closer to whisper those words right to your ear.
“oi, malfoy.” barty started, interrupting your somehow intimate moment with regulus. “theoretically, if i paid you, could you do that to me as well? that must’ve looked bloody hot.” crouch grinned, getting a light punch on the shoulder from your boyfriend.
“i would rather not touch you, crouch. i don’t know where the hell have you been.” you laughed, your head resting on regulus’ shoulder as his arm was wrapped around your waist. “don’t worry, baby. if any of them bothers you, i can fight.” you winked at him playfully.
#regulus black x reader#female reader#regulus black fluff#regulus black fic#regulus black x malfoy!reader#sirius x regulus#marauders fic#marauders one shot#niki’s works 🫂#harry potter fic#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black one shot#marauders fanfiction#marauders x reader#marauders era#marauders x you#regulus black x you#regulus black#regulus x reader#regulus fluff
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Steve doesn’t know if he should say something.
He knows, he obviously knows that Eddie’s been taking his clothes.
It’s like a routine at this point. They’ll be hanging around Steve’s pool or up on his roof getting high, Eddie will say he’s cold no matter what he’s wearing or how warm it is. And if Steve’s not wearing a jacket to give him, Eddie will go ruffle through Steve’s closet and at the end of the night, he always “forgets” to give it back before he leaves.
Steve’s not sure if Eddie’s just doing it to fuck with him or if it’s an actual reason. Like Eddie doesn’t have clothes, or his washer is broken and he can’t afford to fix it, or he doesn’t have money for the laundromat or something serious that Steve does not want to be insensitive about, but he’s seriously running out of clothes.
For fuck’s sake, he’s wearing his Christmas sweater from two years ago, he literally had nothing else in his closet.
He’s starting to think that’s the endgame here, that Eddie’s just waiting until Steve shows up bare ass naked so he can laugh in his face.
Finally, Steve decides to get some answers while they’re hanging out in Eddie’s room, wearing his too-small Christmas sweater that Eddie’s already teased him about.
“Eddie, is… is everything like… okay?”
Steve asks carefully, picking at threads on Eddie’s comforter.
Eddie’s fingers pause on his guitar strings, joint hanging out of his mouth as he gives Steve a curious look.
“You mean just in general or…? Because I’m far from what someone like yourself would consider “okay” but that’s normal for me.”
Steve looks around the room, noting the usual piles of Eddie’s clothes, recognizing a lot of his own. Doesn’t seem like Eddie’s in any shortage of things to wear, and his laundry always piles up. Nothing looks out of sorts, maybe he just hasn’t felt like doing it lately, and Steve doesn’t want to be insensitive if that’s the case either.
He minds his words, “I mean like, are things okay for you? Like around the house, your refrigerator’s working, your washing machine isn’t broken or anything?”
Eddie smirks, “What if they’re not? Is Handyman Harrington gonna put on his little toolbelt and fix it all up?” He always makes light when he senses something uneasy coming.
“Real funny. I’m serious, Eddie. Is there a reason you haven’t done laundry? If you’re not feeling up to it or something, I don’t mind helping.”
Eddie sobers a little then, putting his guitar down and dabbing out the joint in the ashtray on the bedside table, “Yes my washing machine works. Yes I can do my laundry, I’m just lazy as shit and letting it pile up. What’s this about, Steve?”
“Because you—” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it, flustered, “I’m literally wearing my Christmas sweater in goddamn October because you have all my clothes, dude.”
Something registers in Eddie’s gaze but he quickly deflects, laughing, “Oh is that why? I thought you just pulled out that little number ‘cause it's skin tight, you minx.”
“Is everything okay?” Steve doesn’t let him change the subject, offering gently, “If you need to borrow some money or use my washer or something then—”
“No, no that’s not it,” Eddie shakes his head, smile gone, seeming kind of nervous now, “I don’t need anything like that, Stevie.”
Steve sighs, at a loss, “So why do you keep taking my clothes, Eddie?”
Eddie lets out a small laugh, almost sad, a little bitter, “You’re really gonna make me say it, Harrington?”
“Say what? You can tell me,” Steve scoots closer to him on the bed. He tries to meet Eddie’s gaze, to make sure he knows he can tell Steve. Fuck, they saved the world together, they almost died together, he knows he can tell Steve anything.
So it sort of hurts when Eddie won’t look at him, or answer him, but Steve tries to be understanding.
“Okay,” he sighs, resigned, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m just gonna need some of them back if that’s alright—”
“God, you really are something,” Eddie gives that same bitter laugh. It hurts, mostly because Steve knows there’s something deeper here, something’s hurting Eddie and he won’t tell Steve. “Of course, it’s alright. They’re your clothes, it’s not even… Fuck, it’s not even about the clothes.”
“So you were just fucking with me then?”
Eddie shakes his head, hands tugging his own hair, the way he does when he’s anxious, “No, it wasn’t a prank Steve.”
“You’re trying out a different style?”
“Definitely not.”
“Dustin dared you, or something?”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“So then why did you do it? I don’t—”
“Shit, Steve, I’m— I took them because they smell like you, alright?”
Steve’s mouth opens and closes several times.
“I… You… What?”
Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, sighing sharply down at the bed, “Don’t make me say it again.”
Steve blinks, asking slowly, “You… like the way that I smell?”
Eddie finally looks up at him, a heavy cloud behind his dark eyes as he admits, “Yes I do and not in a friend sort of way. In a way that I’m literally stealing all your clothes like a fucking weirdo just to feel like I’m hugging you at night, or something— I dunno, Steve. It helps with the nightmares.”
Steve’s heart is sort of doing flips in his chest.
That’s another reason why he waited so long to say anything. He doesn’t mind Eddie taking some of his clothes. He likes the idea of Eddie wearing everything that’s his, and not just as a friend helping out another friend. In a deeper way, in a way that he’s been suppressing because he didn’t want to ruin things with Eddie.
“That could still be a friend thing,” Steve says carefully, hoping that Eddie disagrees.
“It’s not a friend thing,” Eddie shakes his head, starting to move away from the bed and Steve’s stomach drops, “I don’t have ‘friend’ feelings for you, Steve. So I get it if you wanna walk out that door and never talk to me again. I’ll give all your clothes back, I shouldn’t have—”
Steve’s hand shoots out to Eddie’s knee, stopping him, rushing to say, “I don’t like you as a friend either.”
Eddie quickly looks up, expression careful, confused, “You— huh?”
“Fuck, that came out wrong, I just…” Steve sighs, bolsters himself up and rubs Eddie’s knee softly but with intent as he asks, “Eddie, can I hug you in a not-friend way?”
Eddie’s eyes flick up and down between Steve’s hand and his face about ten different times, gaze utterly wild, “Are you saying you have feelings for—”
“Just get over here and find out.”
Eddie’s grin mirrors Steve’s as he crawls across the bed. He’s tentative still, careful, so Steve just goes in, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Eddie goes willingly, sliding his palms across Steve’s stupid Christmas sweater, his nose at Steve’s collar, breathing in deep.
Steve chuckles as Eddie burrows in, mumbling something about how good he smells.
Steve loves the way Eddie smells too, nuzzling into his hair, breathing in a hint of shampoo, smoke and something earthy, something Eddie. Steve loves the way he feels too, wants him impossibly closer.
“So why did you need so many of my clothes?” He asks softly after a while.
Eddie doesn’t lift his head when he replies, “Works best when the Steve smell is still strong. Had to get more when I sniffed it all up.”
Steve rolls his eyes, something like fondness tugging at his lips.
“You said it helps with nightmares?”
Eddie nods against him, admitting quietly, “On nights when my uncle works, it gets kinda creepy being alone here. Just having something that smells like you makes it feel like— I dunno, like you’re here with me. It’s weird.”
“It’s not. I wish I would’ve thought of that when my nightmares were bad,” instead of just not sleeping, or calling Robin all hours of the night. “Your uncle works tonight, right?”
“Yeah, he… yeah.”
Steve feels like he should be more nervous than he is, but Eddie hasn’t let up since the second Steve pulled him in, so he feels like he’s on the right track here.
“What if I stayed over? I have a feeling you’ll like hugging my sweater even more when I’m inside it.”
That makes Eddie burrow further into his neck, pressing a smile there.
“Already trying to get into my bed, Harrington? Should wait until at least the third hug for that,” playfully, Steve gives his side a little pinch, both of them chuckling, “Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.”
Satisfied with that answer, Steve takes a risk, carefully wraps his hand around the back of Eddie’s legs, tugging a little to pull Eddie into his lap. Thankfully, Eddie wants it too. He sits atop Steve’s thighs and just melts into him, both of them sighing against each other.
Steve rubs broad circles across Eddie’s back, soothing the fabric of his yellow sweater that seems to be Eddie’s favorite to steal. He smiles into Eddie’s hair, feeling so warm and buzzing pleasantly all over.
It could’ve been hours gone by, Steve basking in Eddie’s body heat, in the weight of him, condensation forming against his neck where Eddie’s breathing him in. He pulls back a little, studies the blissed out look on Eddie’s face.
He blinks slowly at Steve, “Hey.”
Steve shakes his head, chuckling softly, “Hey, dummy.”
“Dummy?” Eddie parrots, grinning.
“Yeah. You’d rather steal my entire wardrobe than just give me a hug?” Steve squeezes him a little, “What if you wanted to kiss me, hm? Would you steal my chapstick?”
He lets his eyes linger on Eddie’s lips, hoping he gets the hint, takes the subtle offer.
Eddie’s finger toys with his collar, brushing the bone there as he murmurs back, “If you’d just kiss me I wouldn’t have to steal your chapstick to know how you taste.”
Steve tips his head back with a soft laugh before cupping Eddie’s face, “God, c’mere, you idiot,” then leans in and presses their smiling lips together.
It’s sweet at first, just gently pecking each other. Then the kisses last longer, grow deeper, tasting each other. Steve’s mouth falls open in a sigh, letting Eddie lick inside, sucking lightly on his lip.
Kissing Eddie is everything, a deep warmth simmering in Steve’s bones that he can’t get enough of. He wants it all over him, wants to clothe himself in it, burrow inside Eddie and never come out.
He leans back against the pillows, taking Eddie with him in his lap. The movement makes them rub together in a way that has Steve humming against Eddie’s lips, gripping his hips as a new kind of pleasure lights inside him.
Eddie pulls back then, laughing breathlessly.
“Okay,” he nuzzles their noses together, grinning as he mumbles, “We gotta relax or I’m gonna have to steal another pair of your underwear too.”
Steve playfully rolls his eyes as he moves his hands elsewhere, wrapping them around Eddie’s back.
Then, a beat later, it clicks and his brows furrow.
“Wait, what do you mean another pair, Munson?”
Eddie laughs and quickly dives back in for another kiss, silencing any more questions from Steve.
Ao3 Link
#eddie’s just joking i swear#the ao3 link is at the bottom (:#steddie#steddie fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#my fics#rueswriting#stranger things 4#steddie ficlet#eddie x steve#fluff#sharing clothes#steddie fic rec#steddie headcanon
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Dear Santa
Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Summary: Jack's wishlist this year only consists of one thing. He wants Y/N to be his step-mom.
A/N: Continuation of Waiting Rooms, set a year later
Warnings: slight angst trying to get Jack to share what he wants for Christmas, Haley and reader are friends, getting engaged
Word Count: 2.8K
Rosie is about to turn 1.
JJ and Will are having a big birthday bash at their place, 2 weeks before her actual birthday because being a Christmas baby is hard. Gift-giving becomes a chore, they feel overlooked as they get older, and holiday fatigue makes people not really want to add another thing to their plate. But the BAU loved any excuse to party and to spoil their godchildren— even if it wasn’t on paper like Aaron was, every single member on the team loved JJ’s children as if they were their own.
And Aaron’s girlfriend is invited to the party, too.
Everyone knows her, she’s been around a lot and Aaron loves her dearly. Even Haley likes her, invited her to the wedding back in September and everything, which came in handy when they had to take Jack home for the night to give the happy couple some alone time. Aaron had him for 2 weeks during the honeymoon, and while he was at work, Y/N basically moved into his place to take care of Jack in his absence, which Haley was only okay with because Y/N had a degree in education and was trusted with 20 plus kids every day for years. They got on well, Jack loved talking to her and playing with her, he asked to call her at night when he had weekends with Aaron and she wasn’t over… and then she moved in. Jack was over the moon.
It’s been a month now, playing family is so much easier when Y/N doesn’t have to leave ever. His house is her house and his son is her favourite little guy in the world… but he’s acting different.
There are 2 weeks until Christmas and even Haley can’t get him to make a wish list. Well, he’s made one. He’s sent it to Santa, but he wouldn’t let her see it. So, you know, she can’t buy him anything in the name of Santa. It’s stressing them out, they have no idea why he’s being so secretive this year.
They pick him up from Haley’s for the birthday party, he loves any excuse to spend time with Henry and Haley begs Aaron to try and get him to talk. To anyone. Someone on the team has to be able to crack what’s going on and get him to share what he wants. In exact specifics because if he doesn’t get what he wants on Christmas morning, there’s going to be hell to pay.
He runs off to see Henry the second they’re inside, Aaron and Y/N put the gifts in the pile and head into the kitchen to give hugs and handshakes to all their friends. Y/N hugs Penelope and JJ and she takes little Rosie into her arms for a hug and kisses the side of her head, making Aaron swoon. “I can’t believe you’re so big!” She teases, brushing her nose against Rosie’s hair.
“I know,” JJ sighs, shaking her head. “I wish I could keep them this tiny forever…”
“Me too,” Aaron agrees. Looking off into the other room where the kids are all playing and making noise. “Things are easier when they’re 1.”
“I don’t know,” Will shrugs. “I think 4 is treating Henry well.”
“Has he told you what he wants for Christmas?” Y/N asks right away.
They both nod, “why?” JJ asks.
“Jack won’t tell us,” Aaron complains. “He made his letter, didn’t let me or Haley look and then mailed it away when he met Santa at the mall… we have no idea what he wants and he won’t tell us.”
“Well, last year his Christmas was a lot to take,” Derek reminds them. “His mom getting engaged so soon after your divorce is going to stick out to him… his whole world changed last Christmas.”
“Do you think maybe he asked Santa to bring you two together again?” Penelope asks, hesitant but onto something.
Aaron shakes his head, “no, he loves Scott. Talks very highly about him and their time together on weekdays.”
“Hm,” Emily hums. “You want one of us to talk to him?”
“I’m not sure,” Aaron’s honest. “Maybe Spencer, or Y/N even… I don’t want him to think he’s in trouble for not talking to us about his Wishlist.”
“I’ll do it,” Y/N volunteers, handing Rosie over to Aaron so he can have a snuggle with his god-daughter. “I’ll ask Henry too, just to cover my bases. Get them talking, see what’s up.”
“Thank you,” Aaron leans in and presses a kiss to her lips while Rosie clings to him.
They watch her leave and as soon as the coast is clear everyone's vibe switches. “So…” Derek is the first to tease him.
“When are you going to have another one?” Emily continues.
Aaron shakes his head with a blush. Rosie is snuggled into his chest, head on his shoulder, he leans his cheek against her head and holds her close. She’s always loved him, she finds him calming and it’s probably because he’s so stern and has his emotions under control… also because he’s family. He was the 4th person to hold her in her entire life and he loved her because he loved her mother so much.
“When she asks,” he’s honest.
“Oooo,” JJ teases with a smirk. “I’m surprised she hasn’t asked with how often she sees you with babies now.”
“I know,” he sighs. “I think she wants to be married before she has kids. She’s traditional, I can’t blame her…”
“So when are you going to ask?” Penelope asks, desperate to know.
He shrugs, “We haven’t talked about it. It’s only been a year, we just moved in together, and we’d have to plan it all around her teaching schedule. There’s a lot to consider. I want to make sure she’s okay with my schedule, the long hours and the not being around— I mean, she’s good with Jack, she spends time with him when we get called out and she hasn’t said she has a problem with it but—
“but it’s happened to you once before,” JJ understands.
He nods, “I love her too much to lose her too.”
They all understand that.
“She’s had time to run,” Emily adds. “If she didn’t like your job or the hours or missing you as much as I’m sure she does— she would’ve left already. She’s not the kind of woman to push her feelings down and just coast. She says what she feels and gets what she wants and what she wants is you and the life you’re building and the family you’ve welcomed her into.”
His heart swells, “I hope so.”
—
She plays with them for a bit, driving cars around a town printed on a carpet and making all the automobile noises with a smile. She loved this little boy so much, he was the best thing to come into her life since his dad.
“Did you guys ask for more cars for Christmas?” She pries.
Henry nods, but jack doesn’t say anything. He keeps driving, avoiding the question.
“What else did you ask for Henry?”
“a—
“Don’t tell her!” Jack cuts him off. “If you say it out loud it doesn’t come true.”
“What?” She asks, almost laughing but she holds back. “Who told you that?”
“No one…” he shakes his head, looking like he’s thinking hard.
“Then why do you think it works like that?”
“It’s like birthday wishes,” he explains.
“What did you wish for on your birthday last year?” She asks, trying to figure out if he got it or not, to see if that’s why he thinks this.
“The Spider-Man Hot Wheels track,” he explains.
“And did you tell anyone?” She asks, he shakes his head. “And you got it?”
“I did…”
“What about Christmas last year? Did you tell anyone what you wanted?”
“I made a list but… what I wanted most I told Santa and then it happened,” he whispers. “For mommy to get married to Scott.”
“Oh,” her heart swells. “Oh, Jack. You know, that’s just because you told Santa and he can make things come true, but sometimes Santa can’t get all your gifts and he’ll reach out to your mommy and daddy and say hey, the 3rd thing on Jack's list I couldn’t make at my factory so you can get that for him. But Santa can’t talk to your mom or dad about presents unless you do too… he can’t tell your secrets.”
“Oh,” he thinks hard about it. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, when I was little we didn’t have a chimney so my dad actually had to wait up for Santa and let him into the house,” she explains the old lie her parents used to tell her. “They became good friends and Santa was always so happy to hear they got me the things he couldn’t make.”
“I only put one thing on my list,” he frowns, scared now that he won’t get anything if it doesn’t come true.
He starts to cry and she pulls him right into her lap, cradling him, “Oh, buddy it's okay. We can make a second list, explain everything to Santa and send it tonight, he’ll get it in time.”
“You think?” He asks, looking up at her with those big hotchner brown eyes.
She nods, “Come on, let’s go ask Aunty JJ if she has some paper.”
They get up off the carpet and she carries him into the kitchen again, they get paper and a pencil and they sit down at the kitchen table together with Aaron standing over his shoulder. He puts down a couple things he’s seen on commercials between TV shows and things he’s seen in the store with his mom and she looks up at Aaron who smiles. He can get these things, there’s still lots of time to make sure his Christmas is good.
But she wanted to know what his big present was… she needed to tell Aaron everything and they needed to work it out. They can’t ruin the magic of Christmas for him because this year his big wish doesn’t come true.
—
At home that night, they sit in bed and she tells him everything and his heart breaks a bit. “He has 1 wish and we have no idea what it is.”
“I know,” she leans back against the pillows, just as panicked as he is. “Is there any way you can contact the mall and find out what Santa was working on that day and maybe, just maybe he remembers what Jack said?”
“I can try… but I might just have Haley and Scott sit him down and have him watch Here Comes Santa Clause, make sure he has the real story and knows that it’s not like a birthday wish. Saying it doesn’t stop it from coming true,” Aaron explains. “I need him to have a good Christmas with us this year.”
“He will,” she assures, cuddling into his side. She places her hand on his chest and he wraps his arm around her so she can get closer. “We all will.”
—
Aaron goes off on another case just before Christmas, Y/N spends the night before Jack’s arrival for his week at their house, wrapping presents. They’ve managed to get him everything he asked for. They split the list in half, Haley got him a bunch, they got him the rest and then they all threw in some practice things from themselves.
Haley had dropped off her Santa gifts early, they’re hidden up in the attic so he can’t find them before Christmas morning. He’s going to be one spoiled boy…
Aarons is still not back when Jack gets there. He’s so close to finishing the case, he should be home in a day. Till then, she’s more than happy to spend some one-on-one time with Jack.
He runs upstairs to his room to put his bag away and Y/N gets a few minutes alone with Haley, “has he said anything?”
She smirks, nodding, “he did…”
She lights right up, “what? Can we get it in time?”
“He wants you to be his step-mommy,” Haley whispers, stepping into her space and rubbing her arm. “So unless you want Aaron to be the one to propose, you should get a ring.”
She’s in a state of shock for a while, Jack goes to bed after dinner and she just sits in the living room with her drink and the TV on low and she stares off. She has no idea what to do. Does she tell Aaron? Do they talk about it? Should they get rings together and make a plan? She could just get a ring and ask him? But does she get a ring for herself or for him? Would he even want a ring or would he maybe like a watch?”
There’s a million things buzzing around her head and then the lock clicks over. The door opens and Aaron’s briefcase hits the floor before it closes.
“Hey,” he smiles as he sees her. “You’re still up?”
“What time is it?” She asks, having genuinely no idea.
“Close to midnight… are you okay?”
“Hm? Oh yeah,” she shakes her thoughts away and gets up to give him his big home-coming hug.
She wraps herself around him, breathes him in and settles against his body. His big hands on her back, the warmth of his chest, the feeling of his lips on her forehead… it all feels like home. He’s her home.
“I love you,” she whispers against his chest.
He cups her face and pulls her attention up to his eyes. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Haley cracked the code,” she breaks down, it all falls out as she looks at him. He’s so soft, he’s so good to her… she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. “Jack wants us to get married too. He wants a stepmom and a stepdad. He wants two complete families at both his houses and I don’t blame him.”
Aaron’s face lights right up, “he said that? Really?”
She nods, “Last year he got a stepdad, this year he wants me to join the family…”
“Do you want to?” He asks, making sure they���re on the same page.
She nods, letting it all out, “I love you so much Aaron, there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and that beautiful boy upstairs.”
“What kind of ring do you want?”
—
When Christmas morning rolled around, Jack was surprised to see the mountain of presents under the tree. They let him go crazy, opening everything with his name on the tag while Aaron picked up the wrapping paper and put it in a plastic garbage bag.
Y/N sat back, enjoying the show and taking photos to share with Haley later.
Everything he wanted is there in front of him, already assembled and batteries put in them. He gets an apple and some candy in his stalking as well as a toothbrush that has the spider-man theme song built in for 2 minutes of optimal brushing. He gets some fun bath soaps and new crayons and a bunch of socks and underwear. It’s a perfect Christmas.
But there is still 1 more gift.
“Hey Jack, what’s that?” Aaron points to the tree. A small, little box is wrapped up and placed on a branch. “Did you miss one?”
He wanders up to the tree and takes the box in his hands. “There’s no name?”
“Huh,” Y/N pretends to be shocked. “You can open it, maybe you can figure out who it’s for?”
He carefully peels the wrapping off and notices it's a velvet box. He opens it up like a book and then gasps when he notices it’s a ring. “Dad?”
“That’s not for me,” he smiles. “Santa must've known I wanted to ask her... can you help me?”
His face lights right up and he brings it over to Y/N. She hadn’t seen the ring yet, it was a surprise but in the style she explained. He sits down next to her and watches her take it out of the box. “Is this for me?”
“Will you marry my dad?” he asks, eyes gleaming with the reflection of the Christmas tree lights.
She tears up, she knew this would be emotional but hearing him say that… makes her heart grow 10 times its size. She nods, “Of course I will, I love him so much.”
Aaron joins them, kneeling in front of her. He takes the ring from her hand, “I love you,” he reminds her as he slips it onto her ring finger. “I always will.”
She pulls him up for a kiss and holds him close and Jack takes the initiative to join, getting between them, he snuggles in close. Happier than ever that his Christmas wish came true for a second year in a row.
General Taglist
@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#hotch smut#hotch x reader#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine
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Evidently never gonna be done with thoughts of these two... 18+, MDNI 4.8k
older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson
cw: unprotected piv, finishing inside
cont'd from here
The ride back to the house is silent.
No music playing. No words being said. Just the rumble of his van’s engine and the spin of its tires making the floor vibrate underneath your feet. Eddie’s hands keep tensing, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never loosening as he navigates the deserted, winding backroads.
The trip that seemed to take only minutes on the way now stretches on interminably. Like when you wake up from a dream and the elasticized time snaps abruptly back in place and you realize your alarm has been going off for over an hour and now you’re definitely late for work.
You swallow thickly as you stare out the window at the blur of trees whipping past, your fingers twisting in your lap as you pick at the skin around your thumbnail. You rack your brain for some words, any words, that might be helpful. That might somehow fix this mess you’ve made.
But there isn’t a lot left to say after the lake.
Eddie, don’t, you can’t say stuff like that.
Why not? It’s the truth, it’s how I feel, I—
Because this can’t go anywhere! I’m leaving, I’m going back to—
Then I’ll leave too! I’ll go with you, I’ll go wherever you go, I just want to be with you.
Stop it, you don’t know what you’re saying.
He tries to tell you he does mean it. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He doesn’t care about Hawkins or his stupid community college classes or his handful of odd jobs he could do literally anywhere. He’ll pick up and move. He’ll work. He’ll take care of you.
He’ll do anything so long as this doesn’t end.
What about Steve?
You stare at him plainly, certain you’ve delivered a death blow. And his face does flicker, if only for a moment, as the guilt that’s been festering in his gut for months finally shows through. And even as he shakes his head as determinately as he can, the waver in his voice is unmistakable.
I’ll…I’ll explain it to him.
Explain what? That we fucked on every available surface in his house?
Eddie shrank at your harsh words, not ready for the anger that flashed in your eyes, nor the vitriol that rose in your voice when you so crassly described the best summer of his life.
No! Well…yeah, but—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!
Okay, and then what? We date? You practically spat the word out. Show up for Christmas dinner at your best friend’s house? Sit across the table from him as his aunt’s…as my…
You can’t even say the word “boyfriend”—it feels so juvenile, so high-school.
The argument drags on until the deep, brilliant midnight blue sky begins to tinge gray with the arrival of a cold and sickly dawn. Eddie probably would have kept going until the sun rose, until it hung in the middle of the sky, until it had set and come back up all over again. But you told him as calmly as you could that you had to go back.
It was time.
His van practically crawls to a stop in the driveway, the screech of his brakes mixing with the soft tweets of birds just beginning to stir. He shifts it into park and reaches up to grab the keys and cut the ignition, but you lay your hand on top of his to stop him.
“I don’t think you should stay,” you tell him, forcing back the wobble in your voice.
And the way he looks at you when you say it makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed. His face crumples, his brow pinching together, his mouth contorted in an ugly shape more snarl than frown.
“Don’t do this…” he says, gritting out the words through a clenched jaw. “Please.”
And it’s not the sort of begging you’re used to hearing out of him. It’s not an eager plea for you to kiss him or touch him, nor a cheeky request to fuck you somewhere you could get caught. This is real begging. It’s him clawing at you from behind a chain link fence, a lost puppy who wants only for you to take him home from the pound.
Not asking for anything but you.
“Eddie, we can’t—”
He reaches out for you, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, his touch somehow soft and tender despite the rigid tension you can see in his arms, in his back, in his shoulders.
“We can do anything we want,” he whispers.
His breath is warm on your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He really believes it. And god do you want to believe it too. But…
“I’m sorry.”
Tears brim along your lashline as you wedge your fingers under his to wrench them from your face, rushing to get out of the van before he can stop you. Your footsteps thud on the concrete as you retreat inside the house and lean on the door in the foyer until you hear him backing down the driveway and the glow of his headlights has disappeared completely from view.
You drift back upstairs, heading for your sister’s room that has lain untouched since they left. Past all the places you and he defiled this summer. Past your bed with its rumpled sheets that still smell of Camels and cologne. Past the guest room where Eddie barely slept, lying awake at night thinking of you instead. Past the answering machine and its flashing red light that signals a new message has been left, one you’ll listen to in the morning with bleary bloodshot eyes.
It’s your sister letting you know they’ve changed their flight. They’ll be home tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Having John and Viv back in the house is an adjustment.
Upon playing their message, you and Steve did a sweep of every room trying to get it back up to his mother’s impeccable standards you’d let slide since your arrival…in more ways than one.
You don’t see much of Steve’s father, which feels normal because you never do. Even after all the deals he closed this summer, he somehow only has to work more now that he’s home. Most mornings, he’s up and headed to the office before the rest of the world has hit the first snooze on their alarms. And some nights he stays until long after the rest of the house has gone to bed.
It gives you and your sister lots of time to talk. Well, it gives her time to talk. And the one thing she simply can’t seem to stop talking about is how incredible the yard looks.
She keeps looking out the windows and sighing wistfully as she stares at the haven Eddie has created. She starts to take her morning coffee, her afternoon tea, her evening glass of port out on the patio just to marvel at the perennials just beginning to flower. She’s beyond thrilled.
And you’re…fine. At least you can pretend like you are. Most days.
It’s easy to slip back into the state of numbness that was your home base after everything with your ex. But with him, you had just felt mad. There was no guilt or remorse eating away at your insides. No bottomless pit of doubt in your stomach, no needling thoughts of regret gnawing at you constantly. No part of you left wondering if you’d made a terrible mistake.
Or rather, another one.
What’s really not helping is Viv going out of her way to berate you about how you’re going about this all wrong. She’s quick to scold you for moping around the house, asking if this is what you’ve done all summer. She’s adamant you should be getting back out there—back on the bike or the horse or whatever other tired ass cliche you preferred.
It’s during one of these rants that the phone rings and mercifully cuts her off. Steve is calling. He left his lunch at home and he’s wondering if someone can bring it to him. Vivian grins.
“Your aunt would love to. She was just saying she needed to get out of the house.”
And she’s not wrong, even if it’s her and not the house you need a break from.
But as you make the turn into Family Video’s lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the brown and white van parked out front. Eddie’s long frame leans on the hood, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his hands resting on the hips of a girl he’s got pressed up against him, his fingers toying with the frilled hem of a baby pink top that flashes the bare skin of her lower back.
Your neck is as stiff as death as you walk past, keeping your eyes glued to the door in front of you, trying to ignore the breathy laugh that floats on the air and punctures your brain. You yank on the handle a little too hard, the silver bell overhead even louder in your already ringing ears.
Steve lets out a loud groan of relief when he sees you, or rather when he sees his lunch, and he tears into it right there on the sales floor. He’s the only one on today and the store is deserted— everyone likely at the pool or out enjoying the last few weeks of freedom and warm weather.
Or going for a gold medal in tonsil hockey.
You fold your arms across your chest and lean on the counter, sneaking a glance over your shoulder you know you’ll regret. Most of the display going on outside is obscured by the decals and posters on the windows, but you can still see plenty.
Eddie’s head dips to whisper something in that girl’s ear and you feel about as tall as the crumbs scattering from Steve’s sandwich.
As he chews, your nephew’s gaze follows yours out the window. His brows raise as Eddie grins and he starts to run his hands down the curve of her spine, slipping them snugly into the back pockets of her jeans. Unable to see the grimace on your face, Steve just nods approvingly.
“About time,” he sighs as he rips off another bite. “He’s been like…catatonic lately.”
The sourness in your stomach only curdles further until you mutter out a goodbye to Steve and turn to make your escape. But the very moment that you do, that girl is taking Eddie by the hand and pulling him along behind her into the store. You and she nearly collide at the door, close enough you can smell the sickly sweet peach lip gloss she’s wearing.
“Oh! Sorry, ma’am,” she says, blithely smiling as she floats over to the new releases.
Behind her, Eddie stands staunchly in the doorway. He takes up the entire exit, his dark clothes seemingly absorbing all the light in the room as you lift your chin to look him in the eye.
You expect to find contempt. Something callous and unfeeling. More than merely smug, you’re sure he will be dripping with arrogance and condescension. Because he’s got every right to be, doesn’t he? You really think I cared about you? Don’t you see how fast I can replace you?
But when you do look at him, there is only pain etched into his features. He holds your gaze for no more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. You think that all of civilization could be crumbling into ruin around you and you would never know because you can’t stand to tear your eyes away from his. And you don’t, until he drops his head and turns sideways to let you pass.
His cologne stings in your nostrils as you do, and your arm brushes the edge of his denim vest. And you don’t make it but a block away before you have to pull off onto a side street and cry.
For the next two weeks, the sky is permanently gray.
Dark and mottled clouds roll in sometime that evening and suddenly even the smallest sliver of sunshine becomes as precious as real gold. Their coverage is dense and the air becomes thick and muggy with humidity that only gets more oppressive, yet never gets any closer to breaking.
Every day, the house seems to get smaller. It’s like you’re a rat in a maze and the scientists who are studying you keep removing portions of it until you’ve been boxed in with no escape. But the idea of going out, the thought of running into Eddie again, is too much for you to bear the risk.
The only thing that brings you any sort of solace is that the school year will start soon and you’ll have work to distract you again. Truthfully, the only reason you have yet to extract yourself from Hawkins is because your new housing—a little craftsman you’re going to rent from the head of your department at the university—won’t be ready for you to move in until the end of August.
But the looming threat of your departure somehow only encourages Vivian.
You should have known something was up the moment she said she wanted to have a “family dinner” to celebrate your last night. You should have known when you came into your room and found a bag from her favorite department store sitting on your bed containing a sundress far too floral for your taste. It might as well have had a post-it on it that said “Wear Me” like your mother used to put on your school clothes when she laid them out for you in the morning.
If you were smart, you might have thrown it out the window. Or maybe even climbed through it yourself and scaled down the trellis to make a run for it. Instead, you put it on. And your feet are like lead on the steps as you come down to find your sister bustling around the dining room.
Your brow furrows as you count four place settings. “I thought Steve had a date,” you say.
“He does,” she hums, shooting you a sidelong glance. “And so do you.”
“Viv, no. Please don’t do this—”
“I haven’t done anything!”
She throws her hands up and smiles, but all the faux innocence in the world can’t disguise that glint of mischief in her eyes. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by the doorbell.
“That must be him,” she titters, flapping a napkin behind you to shoo you into the foyer. “Go on, now, don’t keep him waiting!”
Eddie parks his van down the street from Steve’s house, under the cover of some tree branches that hang low over the road. He smokes two cigarettes down to the filters and debates on a third as he tries to summon the courage to get out of the car. Every part of his body seems to be at odds with him, unwilling to settle until he finally kicks open the door and gets out.
His feet carry him forward in long, determined strides but they falter when he sees a car he isn’t expecting sitting in the driveway. It’s a cruiser. One Eddie found himself pulled over by on more than a few occasions, being scrutinized by the giant hulking man now ringing the doorbell.
Hopper.
He’s not in uniform. In fact, he’s more dressed up than Eddie has ever seen him, all trussed up in a sport coat over a button down that he’s actually buttoned. Shit, is his shirttail tucked in?
“Munson?” he says in surprise. “What brings you here?”
But before Eddie can answer, the door is opening and it's you on the other side. Eyes widening when they land on him and then blinking furiously when you realize Hopper is there as well.
“Um…hi.”
It’s hard to say who looks more uncomfortable as you step aside so Hopper can come in and you exchange some stilted pleasantries. You remember him from high-school and you aren’t all that surprised the town’s terminal bachelor is the one your sister has decided to foist upon you.
What is surprising is that Eddie is here. And his eyes are searing into you, while you have yet to fully acknowledge him. In all honesty, you're not entirely convinced he isn’t a hallucination. Only when Viv appears and glides into the chaos like a parade float do you actually believe it.
“I thought that was you, Chief. So glad you could make it—Oh, Eddie!”
Her eyes fall on the boy still hovering in the doorway, her hand coming up to her chest.
“I’m so sorry, dear, but Steve’s already left for his date. Wait right here, though, I have some money for you for all that work you did.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
Eddie takes a hurried step forward, his white sneakers finally breaching the threshold. Vivian is already gone, though, rushing up the stairs. Leaving you alone. With both of them.
“Hey…Hop. John’s in the den, if you want a drink,” you tell him, pointing the way.
With a terse nod and a gruff sound you presume is him answering in the affirmative, Hopper heads down the hall and leaves you and Eddie to your uncomfortable hovering. He leans on the narrow table in the entryway, staring at his own hand as he traces the edge of the wood with his finger, the rest of his hand closed in a fist. He won’t look at you now. Won’t lift his chin an inch.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper.
Eddie just shrugs, staring now at his sneakers he’s scuffing against the oriental rug under his feet. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. His chest rises with the breath he draws, but he swallows his non-response when he hears Vivian at the top of the stairs.
“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing over the envelope full of cash with his name written on it that’s been sitting on her bureau for weeks now.
His head shakes. “You really don’t have to—”
“Nonsense! You did such beautiful work out there, it was so wonderful to come home to. You ought to think about going into landscaping.”
Vivian just about forces the envelope into his hands and he mutters out a thank you, tapping his fingers on it and making furtive glances towards the door as she whirls around to you.
“You two met, right?” she asks. “He must have been here all the time working.”
“Y-yeah, yes, we—”
“Thank you,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his back pocket and reaching for the doorknob in one motion. Still not looking you in the eye. “I’ll, um…I’m sorry to disturb you…”
He goes to leave, one foot already out the door when she suddenly stops and looks back over his shoulder. You feel your breath catch, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours.
“Have a good night,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone.
The door doesn’t slam. He doesn’t even shut it particularly hard. Still, you can’t help but flinch as it closes soundly behind him. There’s something so final about it, but it doesn’t feel like enough after everything that’s happened—it doesn’t feel right for it to end with something so hollow.
Vivian just smiles and loops her arm with yours.
“Ready to go find the boys?”
You walk Hopper to the door after dinner, more or less coerced into it by your sister.
There’s a slight scuffle as you try and figure out how to say goodnight to one another. He winds up reaching out a hand as big as a bear’s paw and clumsily pats your shoulder, almost like he is one, when he seemingly can’t decide between hugging you or shaking your hand.
Chuckling through it the best you can, you keep the same fake smile you’ve worn all night firmly plastered in place until the door closes with him on the other side. And you stand there for a minute, not too keen on going back in the kitchen for your impending cross-examination.
But then your eyes land on the vase sitting on the table in the entryway. More specifically, on the folded piece of paper tucked behind it with only a ripped edge peeking out.
You reach for it, flashing back to a ringed finger tracing the edge of that table, fist clenched around something, and your hands shake as you unfold it to read Eddie’s note scrawled inside.
I’m parked down the street.
It’s just starting to rain as you hurry down the driveway, skulking through shadows as you walk along the quiet street. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of the approaching storm as fat raindrops hit the top of your head and slide down your scalp through the forest of your roots.
A pitch black sky overhead matches the road under your feet, scantly lit by a lone streetlight. The wind picks up as you look around for Eddie’s van and just when you’re starting to think he must have left already, you spot him on the side of the road under the cover of some trees.
At first all you can see is the glowing orange dot at the end of his cigarette, but his face steadily comes into view as you approach the driver’s side door. A blatant attempt to avoid what you know will happen if you climb in the passenger seat.
The rain starts to fall a little harder as he rolls his window down. It soaks the ground at your feet, clouds of steam rising from the pavement. The air is thick and heavy, like standing in a bowl of soup. It has your shoulders sagging with the weight and your lungs struggling to draw breath.
At least that’s what you let yourself believe.
“How was your date?” Eddie asks with a bitter laugh that does little to disguise his disgust. You shake your head, pushing back a wet piece of hair clinging to your cheek.
“It wasn’t a…It was just dinner.”
The hurt in your voice makes his eyes round and soften, cheeks hollowing as he takes a long drag. Seemingly breathing in as deeply as he can to steady his own frayed nerves.
“I was afraid you might have left already,” he says.
“No,” you tell him, eyes falling to your feet. “Not ‘til tomorrow.”
He nods.
“I, uh—I know I shouldn’t just show up like this. But I wanted to tell you…” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip shaking almost imperceptibly, corners of his mouth turning downwards as he stubs out his smoke. “I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Any of it.”
He lifts his gaze to meet yours on the last words, brown eyes like twin black holes that hold all the mysteries of the universe. There’s a terrifying vastness to them, a depth you’ve only barely scratched the surface of. Your lips press together and you pinch your eyes shut as your hand creeps up to rest on the door, fingers curling around it as raindrops splash on the interior.
The thunder only gets louder as the storm nears, the rain now falling in a rapid patter. Here it is, you tell yourself. This is what you knew was coming. This is where you knew you’d end up.
“I don’t regret it either,” you say, raising your voice over the sound of the rain, forcing down the tremble in it. “And I…I’ll never forget it.”
You can only hold his gaze for a second before you have to look away. And as you do, you give the door a tight squeeze, wishing it was his hand instead.
“Bye, Eddie.”
Your feet carry you away like you’re on autopilot.
You’re barely conscious of the steps you take or the direction you head in as the rain ramps up to a downpour and fully soaks through your clothes. Your head is spinning and foggy, unable to register much of anything until one sound breaks through—the creak of the van door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by the splashing of water under sneakers.
The solid weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you start as he turns you towards him, the rain falling harder and the wind blowing faster all around. The trees overhead whip back and forth in a frenzy, their branches dipping low and their leaves swirling wildly in the air.
“Eddie, someone could see—”
He wraps his hands around your wrists to wrench you closer, pulling you into his body, both of your faces splattered with rain, barely able to see anything beyond each other.
“Let them,” he breathes out before his lips slam into yours.
The sound of the storm is only magnified inside of Eddie’s van, every drop of rain on the metal roof practically deafening as you climb through the rear and your bodies slide against the floor. The carpet inside is rough and scratchy, the fibers imbedded with decades worth of dirt and crumbs and tobacco and weed particles, but you can’t find the will within you to care.
All you can think about, all you can focus on, is him.
His kiss is harsh and punishing, lips mashing rough against yours, teeth clacking as he devours you. Aggressive and bruising in a way that, deep down, you know you deserve.
Your wet clothes cleave to your bodies as you struggle to drag them off, steadfast in their refusal despite your feverish attempts. Eddie’s jeans and boxers only make it to the middle of his thighs before he’s pushing inside of you and a strangled moan releases from his throat.
The stretch makes you writhe, the stinging pain quickly becoming an afterthought as your need for him overrides everything else. You fist his wet shirt in your hands, rivulets of water trickling down your forearms as you clutch it tight to pull his body as close to yours as it can get.
Adrenaline races in your veins as he begins to thrust and you realize it’s the first time he’s taken you bare, the velvet of his skin dragging against your walls with nothing to separate you.
He fucks you fast and hard, your legs kicking up to wrap around his waist, your ass burning from the friction, your muscles tightening and tensing with every move. His whole body is quaking as he drives himself inside, the van rocking, teetering like it’s about to tip over the edge of a cliff.
He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll get to, because he’s pretty sure it will be.
“Let me come in you,” he groans in your ear, more command than request. “Want to fill you up, want you to feel every…fucking…drop…”
The words are grunted out in time with his thrusts, his hips pushing deeper with every heaving breath, his cock twitching inside you as your walls pulse and tighten around him.
“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god!”
Your fingers weave into his wet curls, twisting them in your grasp at the root, tugging his head up and holding him there so you can stare into his eyes, your own vision strained in the dark.
Lightning flashes through the windshield, followed instantly by a clap of thunder. So close it could have struck right outside. For an instant, the van is illuminated and you see his face fully—eyes wide and wild, hair half-dried in damp coils, tattoos stark against pale skin that glows white.
It only lasts a second, but it shows you everything you need to see.
“Come, Eddie,” you gasp as the lightning dissipates and the whole van rattles from the force. “Want you to come for me, come in me—”
And he does. As fast and hard as the lightning strike, Eddie’s cock bursts with rope after rope of his release spurting inside of you, your center tingling as the feeling of it spreads throughout your body. The noise he makes in your ear is ungodly. It pours out from deep in his throat, guttural and resonant as the echoing claps of thunder. He drops all of his weight onto you, shaking from the force of his orgasm as you’re flattened between him and the floor.
“It’s okay,” you coo softly, your fingers loosening your grip on his hair to stroke it instead, nails dragging soft and slow against his scalp.
He shivers at your gentle and soothing touch, inhaling shaky breaths of you with his face pressed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Safe and dark and warm.
“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking in a dry sob as his tears slide off his cheeks to mix with the rainwater and sweat on your skin. Your throat clenches as you swallow, still trying to force down the words that have sat heavy in the center of your chest for weeks now, fighting to be said.
Finally, finally, finally, they make it out.
“I love you too.”
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i'll be home for christmas
prompt: no upside down au (@steddieholidaydrabbles)
rated: t
word count: 909 words
tags: flirting, bartender eddie, college student steve
welcome to Day 9 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!
Nancy dumps him a few months after he moves away for school, and so he doesn’t come home that summer or the one after that, until a couple years have gone by and he ends up stuck back at his parents’ house during Christmas break.
He hasn’t seen them in a while, but truth be told, he’d kind of rather just be back in South Bend hiding out in his dorm or maybe at the bar with Robin, the only other person from Hawkins who’d ended up at Notre Dame. He hadn’t even known her before they were there, and she’s a year below him, but – whatever. When you leave a small town, you sort of tend to find each other after a while.
She’s not there right now, though, so it’s not like it really even makes a difference. She’s off on some trip with her own parents, one that they take every other year, back to visit her mom’s old hippie friends in Berkeley, because Robin has the sort of parents who have old hippie friends back in Berkeley. Maybe Steve could just get adopted by them, and then he'd never have to come back here at all.
Anyway.
He’s here now. That’s the problem.
And of course he got into a fight with his dad on the first night back. Of course he did. I wasn't even over anything worthwhile, just – Whatever. It doesn’t even matter. He doesn’t even care, just. He really does hate his dad sometimes.
He clenches his jaw in rhythm to the song that’s playing from the tape deck in his room, turns his head on the pillow to squint at the glowing red alarm clock in the corner.
8:50 PM
It’s barely even nighttime. He can’t just sit here like this, like he’s waiting for his parents to leave, because they’re not going to fucking leave, so maybe – maybe he should –
He catapults himself off the bed and reaches for his keys on the dresser, shoving them in his back pocket before he can overthink it. Down the stairs, slipping into his shoes by the door, shrugging into his coat. Calling over his shoulder that he’s going out, don’t wait up, and –
He doesn’t actually know where he’s going, but he gets in his car and starts driving. Just drives until he ends up parked in front of the Hideout, the run-down little dive bar on the complete opposite side of town.
It’s open, and there are a few people hanging around out front, so he turns off the car and goes inside.
It’s dark in here, the ceiling low and the music kind of weird and more guitar-y than he’s used to, but it’s medium-crowded in a way that makes him feel like he can probably just grab a seat at the bar and blend in and not have to worry about anyone trying to talk to him about –
“Harrington?”
Fuck.
He turns with a big fake smile on his face, prepared to deal with Tommy, who he hasn’t seen in at least a year, or maybe even Billy, who he hasn’t seen in about as long. Worst of all would be the Byers kid, the one he got dumped for, but Jonathan’s probably not bold enough to actually say anything to his face, but still. The last person he expects to find is –
“Munson?”
Eddie gives a little jerk of his head and drops a dish towel over his shoulder. He braces his hands on the opposite side of the bar, arms spread wide, and Steve’s eyes flicker down, just for a beat, to the way the thin cords of muscle flex under his skin where it’s lined with a twisting pattern of black tattoos.
Eddie clears his throat, and Steve sucks in a breath, blinking back up to his face. Eddie raises his eyebrows.
“What’ll it be?”
“Um. Just a – beer, whatever,” Steve says as he tugs his coat off and slides onto a stool. “You work here?”
“No, I’m just a really creative burglar,” Eddie says. He reaches for a glass and pulls the tap as he eyes Steve up and down. “Playing the long game. If I stand back here long enough, they’ll stop noticing me, and that’s when I strike.”
He sets down the drink and slides it across the bar, and Steve grins as he accepts it, letting out a surprised laugh.
“Well now you’ve given it away,” he says, raising his eyebrows as he takes a sip. “Your plan is ruined.”
“You’re going to turn me in?” Eddie asks. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the countertop behind him, and Steve’s eyes drop down again like he can’t help it. “What if I cut you in? Ten percent?”
Steve feels a pleased little flush wash over him as he looks back up to Eddie’s face, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip of his beer. Eddie’s smile is slow and a little sweet, and it makes something in Steve’s stomach do a weird little flip. He tears the corner off a bar napkin to distract his hands from fidgeting too much, and leans forward across the bar. He narrows his eyes.
“Twenty.”
Eddie’s smile grows. He lifts his chin. “Fifteen, and your next beer’s on me.”
Steve laughs, feeling a warm glow settle in his chest. “Sounds like a deal.”
[also on ao3]
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Give me Love - LN4 PART2
Lando Norris x fwb!Reader
summary: in his previous relationships he couldn’t protect them from the backlash of simply being with him. but will protecting only end up hurting you?
(not proof read)
Rain or Shine
loosely based off ROS by mac miller
‘Just wanna ask a question umm, have you, have you, have you ever been in love before?’
Lando found himself lost without you. That saying where you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone never read more true to him. He hated how he left you there at the cafe. He knew throughout your relationship together all you wanted was to be fought for. With him leaving like that, he confirmed every doubt you ever had in him.
He knew throughout your relationship together all you wanted was to be fought for. With him leaving like that, he confirmed every doubt you ever had in him. His season continued at its slow pace, McLaren were disappointed with his lack of performance, especially since he was on fire in the beggining of the season he was on fire, when he was with you.
He spent his post season down time keeping tabs on your social media, daily pictures of your cafe kept him in the loop. Dan would often make an appearance in the background of some. A presence he chose to ignore.
Lando had never felt so insecure of himself. He was so sure that keeping you at a distance when you shared those two years together was best for the both of you. But now, being on the sidelines, watching you live your life from afar hurt him. He loved you and he never got the chance to tell you. He never uttered those words to you before.
‘You should probably take your heels off, ‘cause you've been running through my mind’
He remembered when you said it to him the first time, a year into your semi-relationship, you said it so causally, but the way you said it, captured him by the heart, he was yours in soul but he was too cowardly to be all for you.
He still lived in the UK at the time and you’d wandered into his house on a cold December evening after work, kicking off your shoes at his doorstep. He didn’t hear you come in but he remember how he screeched as you walked in on him wrapping up your Christmas presents.
He was so upset that you’d caught a glimpse of his surprise for you. You begged and begged for him to let you open them early, you knew what most of them were. He gave in saying you could open the smallest one, he rambled on as you opened it saying it was supposed to be a stocking filler.
You held in your palm a mintiture McLaren racecar, it was decorated with the chrome comeback livery. A nod to your support as you attended the British Grand Prix.
Your grin was wide, the Cheshire Cat would be jealous, “as we’re not together for Christmas I thought you could at least have a mini me around.”
“Oh my god. I love you. You’re adorable, this is adorable.”
You had said it so causally. He liked that, he liked that you never asked him to say it back, he wanted to so many times, but he never did. And now he was living with that regret.
He reminisced on every moment he had with you, every little thing reminded him of you.
He was back home for Christmas, he was sick of just seeing your cafe on a phone screen. He convinced himself he could just go on a quick run past the cafe, just to check in on you. He knew you’d be there bright and early before opening, if he could just catch a glimpse he’d feel closer to you.
He slows his pace as he nears the shop, glancing over the road he sees you in the cafe, unfortunately occupied by Dan. You were flailing your arms around, pointing at the sparse Christmas tree you’d added for decoration and then back at the man stood before you.
Lando’s brain couldn’t even catch up as his feel had already made the steps towards the front door.
“You’re so careless! How could you?!” You yelled.
“Get over it. Actually no I’m over it, over this. I’m done watching you pine over someone who doesn’t want you. I’m done.”
As Lando goes to open the door it swings towards him Dan storming out as he grunts “shops closed today pal” clearly not recognising him as he stormed past in anger.
Opening the door he finds you crouched on the floor, dustpan in hand. The ornament he gave you when you declared your love now in pieces on the floor before you. You mustn’t have heard him enter as you lower yourself to the floor sitting crossed legged, the mess in-front of you wondering if the pieces could stick back together.
You heard a creek of a floorboard behind you. Turning your head to see the last person you expected.
“I’m so sorry that I broke it.” You say still sat on the floor, glossy eyed.
“It’s not you that broke it, I wouldn’t worry too much. Maybe we can fix it? Glue it back together or something?” You both felt as if you weren’t talking about the decoration anymore.
You stand up, brushing your hands on your sweatpants, “I don’t think it can be. It’ll have cracks and they’ll show and it’ll only break again.”
“Then I will buy you a new one. We can start fresh and you can chose any livery you wanted.”
He wanted to start fresh to prove to you he could give you you deserved. You deserved a whole lot more than him, he hated that he treated you like a dirty secret. You were beautiful, kind, passionate and forgiving. And he took it all for granted.
“Why are you here Lando?” You sigh, finally getting to the point. No more decoration analogies, you wanted to know why he came back.
‘Love is power, swear there's something about her that make me nervous’
He was in his head trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. He was never the best with words and even worse with his actions. He always relied on you knowing how he felt about you with having to break down his walls and show his ‘weaker’ side.
“I’m here for you.”
His eyes looking adoringly into yours, you’d swoon if you weren’t so hurt. You wished he would’ve been there for you when you needed him. You wished you were good enough for him from the start.
“I’m here, because I wanted to tell you that I’ve always loved you y/n.”
His words hurt, like your heart was being stung by rose thorns, pretty but painful.
‘Your love is not too kind to me’
I dont think I deserved to be treated the way I was. And I don’t think you did love me until you lost me. I don’t want you to love me like that, your love hurts.” You’re picking at the skin beside your fingernails eyes welling with tears once more.
“I promise to love you differently, in the way that you deserve.” He breaks his rigid stance, stepping towards you, taking your hand in his.
I just want to be with you. Only you. I know there’s distance but we’ll make it through. I promise to you I will be better for you.
You shake your hands from his, pulling him into a hug, digging your face into his shoulder, his scent surrounding you, comforting you. You pull your head back slightly to look into his eyes, testing his sincerity.
Your lips touch as if it was the first time. It’s the first time he kisses you with love, not lust. The first time kissing you as if he needs it not wants it.
Although your past was broken scattered across the floor, there are new memory’s to be hung on next years Christmas tree.
‘And I will be yours through rain or through shine’
—
Taglist:
@norrizzandpia @letterlitter
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christmas festivities hcs
masterlist
james potter
making gingerbread houses
- the potters are THE family when it comes to christmas traditions
- james is like one of those dads on vacation with an itinerary for the whole month of december
- he will be partaking in every christmas festivity
- and so will you, like it or not
- and he will be referring to anyone who complains even once as ‘scrooge’
- his favorite, without a doubt, is decorating gingerbread houses
- because this man is competitive
- he loves you, but there’s no way he will let you make a better gingerbread house than him
- he wanted to bake his own like his mom used to do when he was a kid
- but he is no longer a kid
- and you are not his mom
- so he settles for the pre-assembled ones
- gets soooo pouty when yours starts looking better than his
“i think they gave you better icing or something”
- excuses
- you leave for one second to wash your hands
- and come back to his gingerbread house lights (mini gummies) actually flickering
“jamie! we agreed no magic!”
“you can’t prove anything!”
- he’s such a sore loser omg
- says he doesn’t care whose turns out better
- liar
- insists that you do one together
- more like he watches you do one and claims half the work
- sits you in his lap while you work on it
- his only contribution is a heart on the side with your initials in it
- he’s so cute y’all
- wraps his arms around your middle and snuggles into your neck
- hums along to the christmas music playing in the background
- gets bored and stands up, taking you with him
- dances around the dining room to festive music until his parents return home
- and immediately asks them whose is better
- doesn’t care my ass 🙄
“they’re both great jamie”
“y/n’s.”
“…”
“what? i’m not going to lie to my son”
- will need to snuggle on the couch to a christmas movie after that
- his poor little feelings :,(
sirius black
decorating the tree
(contemplating writing a fic for this, lmk what you think)
- sirius never got to decorate a christmas tree as a kid
- they always had one, and he helped put ornaments on
- but it always ended in him getting yelled at for putting them in the wrong place
- and they always had to match the theme
- if he brought an ornament home from school, it went straight into a box
- so when you get a tree for your place, he fully intended to sit back and let you do all the work
- you bring in a few boxes of ornaments and he tells you he’ll get all of them out
- he doesn’t want his baby poking themselves on the sharp part
- he goes through the first box and there’s nothing special
- some cute ornaments you made as a child that your family was willing to part with
- a cute set of a wolf, deer, dog, and rat that james insisted on everyone getting
- then he moves on to the next box
- and it’s full of ornaments from his family home that never got put on the tree
- he doesn’t even care how you got them, he just feels so appreciated for once
- he associates christmas with some not so good memories, and he loves you so much for trying to replace them
- sets the box down and hugs you so tight
- you swear you hear sniffles, but that’s neither here nor there
- lifts you up to put the star on top of the tree
“nice view from down here. star looks pretty good too”
- you step back to admire your work and he can’t stop smiling
- he’s so proud of it
- the tree is nowhere near as pretty as the ones he was used to
- but it was the best tree he had ever seen
- because it was yours
- and it showcased how much you love him
remus lupin
family christmas party
- oh he is NERVOUS
- he’s met your family before, but this is a big deal to him
- because it’s the holidays and your whooooole family will be there
- you try to tell him that there’s no way he could make a bad impression
- he has tea with madam pince once a week, older people adore him
- you offer to pick him up but he insists on coming over alone
- which was a BIG mistake
- he went to a christmas party at the potter’s last year and was severely underdressed
- how was he supposed to know you have to dress fancy for christmas parties?? they don’t do that in the movies
- he was not going to do that again
- but your family does not wear suits to a christmas party
- weirdo pureblood traditions
- when he walk in and everyone is in comfy clothes?
- he has never felt more embarrassed
- his face is so red it could pass for an ornament
“you have more christmas sweaters than anyone i’ve ever met, and today is the day you decide not to wear one?”
- aside from a few of your uncles teasing him, everyone thinks he looks quite charming
- i mean, he’s already an attractive boy
- he can only look better in a suit
- besides, he’ll take a few teasing comments if it means he gets doted on by your mom
- whines to you once you’re in private that you should have told him
- you’re so mean
- remus lupin is a big baby
- luckily, you have a few of his sweaters
- you lead him into your bedroom to change
“door open y/n!”
- as if remus would ever do something inappropriate in your childhood home!
- he so would
- will NOT stop sniffing his sweater that now smells exactly like you
- it gets to present time and remus doesn’t expect to get anything
- and he’s fine with that !!!!
- he’s just happy to be there
- rests his head on your shoulder and watches everyone pass around presents
- you play with his hair and that’s enough of a gift for him
- but omg remus this one has your name on it!
- and it’s from you and your parents
- he smiles so big and assured them over and over that they didn’t have to do that
- he opens it up and it’s a pair of pajamas
- you tell him they match the ones that you three have
- and that’s the sweetest thing he has ever heard
- you guys want him to match you 🥺
- after everyone leaves, you all change into them and watch a christmas movie
- you snuggle up on the couch and he holds you tight
- occasionally kissing your forehead and thanking you for tonight
“you know, they can’t yell at us to leave the door open if they’re asleep”
- he’s so cheeky
- but who are you to deny him
#jamesmydeer#harry potter#marauders#harry potter hc#marauders hc#harry potter imagine#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#james potter x reader#james potter hc#james potter#sirius black hc#sirius black#remus lupin imagine#remus hc#remus lupin hc#sirius black imagine#james potter imagine
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🔔 It's December! That means it's One Direction Advent fic season! Advent fics are generally posted daily from December 1 to December 24/25. Don't forget you can subscribe to the author to get a daily email reminder to read their Advent fic! 🔔
🌟 Baking In December by Itstilliswhatitis
Louis can't believe it! His sisters signed him up for a competition at some bakery and they won! Now he has to spend every day of December baking something with a random dude. Except, the random dude is named Harry and he's hot! Louis realises that this Christmas might be extra special!
🎁 Be Merry All by @justanothershadeofblue {Fic post}
there is a specific sort of oppression that comes with a miserable so-cal christmas, when it’s dark and dirty and rainy or else it's too hot and too bright and everyone’s hustling, and your family is all far away and the laundry machines in your building are broken and you’ve eaten too much take-out and all you want is two seconds of quiet and maybe a morsel of holiday joy.
🕯️ Can I Fly Home by @sadaveniren {Fic post}
“Nothing? A seventy-eight year old woman just gave birth. It’s clearly supernatural stuff at work. How could you say no?”
“No.”
“Come on, the mystery has to be getting to you just a little.”
“Granny being horny isn’t a mystery, Lou. We’re supposed to be on a break until the new year. The real mystery is why you aren’t content to just stay in one place. We’ve hunted everything imaginable to hunt.”
“And yet weird shit still ends up happening, fancy that.” He saw Louis change tactics, sticking out his lower lip, pleading. “Please? Check it out with me and then maybe we’ll come back here for Christmas.”
AKA Louis and Harry have been hunting together since they were teenagers and it's beginning to take a toll. Harry wants to retire. Louis plans to die hunting. Maybe a "Christmas Miracle" is just what they need. An advent fic.
🦌 Christmas Advent Calendar by enchantedlandcoffee / @alarrylittlechristmas {Fic post}
A collection of holiday drabbles written and posted leading up to Christmas.
One posted per day.
🥁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 {Fic post}
Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.
⛄ the holiday remix - choose ur adventure advent series by warmcuppatea / @hlplease {Fic post}
“I love you so much, yeah? And we’ve talked about moving in together when my lease ends. And we’ll be spending so much time together for the holidays, and you know, we get on so smashingly-”
“Louis-” Harry laughed. “Spit it out!”
“-So I was thinking,” Louis laughed, rubbing his face. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He laughed. “I was thinking we should test-run living together this month.”
Harry and Louis are very in love, but moving in together feels huge. So, naturally, Louis has the idea to do a holiday test-run.
🔔I'll Be Home For Christmas by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {Fic post}
Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas.
Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.
While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well...
🍪 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {Fic post}
Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on now, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.
It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.
🎄 kay's 25 days of smutmas by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow {Fic post}
Starting on December 1st, I will be posting a new smut fic everyday until Christmas! These are all one shots of varying lengths and content. As they are posted, I will add the links to this post, summaries and lengths will be included under the break!
All fics will be Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson.
💌 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 {Fic post}
Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.
It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.
An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.
❤️ Love Actually [L.S.] by @louisthiccsexyglitteryass {Fic post}
Louis Tomlinson has just became Prime Minister of the UK. Harry Styles is a housekeeper at 10 Downing Street.
Louis can't help but be enthralled with Harry.
But, unfortunately, love has a funny of fucking punching you in the gut.
🎅 Neondiamond's 2023 Christmas Ficlet Party {Fic post}
If you know me at all, you’ll know that two of the things I enjoy most are writing fluffy ficlets, and Christmas. This year, I decided to combine the two and create my own little Christmas ficlet party all throughout December! 8 ficlets, 4 different pairings, many different tropes—all short, fluffy and festive! Perfect for a quick reading break with a warm drink!
☃️ Snow In Love by @lululawrence {Fic post}
Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.
People thought they were already dating. Weird.
An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.
🌲 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {Fic post}
Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.
🔔 they're singing 'deck the halls' (but it's not like christmas at all) by doesanyonehearrunningwotah
Louis Tomlinson is no fan of Christmas.
Between his douchebag ex-husband/co-parent, his two teenage kids, and the awful fact of his torn-apart family, the holiday season isn't looking to be all that festive.
But maybe a boy's trip with his closest friends will lead him to something that'll make the season a little more bearable.
Or the one where Louis' a bit of a grinch, Harry's a gorgeous present, and there's more weight to the past than either of them would like.
❄️ We Can Roll in the Darkness by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 {Fic post}
Top and Bottom Construction Co. - “We’ll get the job done, however you prefer it!”
Louis looks up from the flyer, and back at Niall. “You must be joking?”
Niall shakes his head, his mischievous grin only going wider. “Nope! I already researched them. They have glowing reviews AND they’re affordable. It’s perfect!”
He pauses then to give Louis a cheeky wink. “Besides their website says they’re full service.”
(Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way).
✨ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {Fic post}
Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.
Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.
Happy Christmas, here's to many more.
#these are in alphabetical order because that's how I roll#adventfics#advent2023#hlcreators#hljournal#trackinghome#trackinghappily#1dficvillage#ficsfor4am
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rocketman: part i - it's just my job five days a week
Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is on a three month special detachment in the pacific and the holidays have never felt lonelier for either of you. it's just three months, it'll be fine, right?
OR you and bradley write each other 159 emails
Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k
Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley needs to remember this is a government email server...(okay yes, i am perfectly aware that our esteemed lieutenant commander would probably get kicked out of the navy for some of these emails…that being said, i also don’t particularly care! we’re playing fast and loose with the time stamps too because i may be smart, but math has never been a strong suit of mine!) enjoy the companion playlist! rest of the series can be found here!
12/17 @ 6:19am
I miss you already and I haven’t even left the parking lot. I’m still in my car typing this after having stayed for probably far too long watching your C-40 take off (like people were staring at me I was there so long)(and, yes, I looked up the name of the plane). Pete asked me if I wanted to get breakfast with him, but I said no. Felt too lost. Plus, I need to get ready for work. We’re going to get dinner on Wednesday before I head up to Berkeley Thursday morning, though!
Hope you have a safe transport and settle onboard quickly. I left you something in your duffle bag (yes, it’s safe to open around other people…head out of the gutter, Bradshaw).
Love you and stay safe, x
12/18 @ 5:46pm
Just dropped off the gifts at the Junior League for Caroline’s adopt a child thing. She was completely in her element (they gave her a clipboard and a bullhorn!), though she did say we went wayyy too over the top. But little Carter asked for all that stuff! We couldn’t just not get it all for him? She also appreciated your wrapping skills, very impressed with the bows and tight corners. I met a couple of her friends there, which was nice and they invited me to stay for drinks (the prosecco was flowing…), but I wanted to head home.
I miss you so much already, it feels weird not going over to your place after work and making dinner and prepping lunch together - and it’s only been two days. I know you’re on a comms blackout for the next couple days, so I’m just gonna keep sending these so you’ll have a bunch to read all at once.
All my love, x
12/19 @ 11:48am
My brother and Lauren decided to come out here for Christmas after all! My dad was so excited when he called me, but I think Mary’s a little less enthused. Feels like shit knowing we were the backup option for them. Apparently, Lauren’s mom is sick and the whole house is in disarray (not hard in that family…) so my dad is paying for them to fly in from New York tomorrow. I think it’ll be nice, we’ll almost have a full set (baring you, of course, my darling rocketman), so the house won’t be as lonely. Do you think we’ll get to talk on Christmas or Christmas Eve? You should be getting a package soon (‘twas preemptively sent!) and are under strict orders not to open it until Christmas Eve, buddy!
Going to dinner with Pete tonight, I’ll let you know how it goes. Amelia’s coming with us, but I don’t know about Penny? I hope they like the gifts we got them. I’m going to stop by your place, do a once over, and make sure the tree is ready for Pete to take, etc. before I leave on Thursday.
Love you and talk soon! x
12/20 @ 7:03am
House looked good! In my seat on the plane. If my morals were shakier, I would 1000% have taken Max up on his offer to fly me up to Berkeley. But alas! Climate change is real and private jets account for 20x as many carbon emissions as commercial planes, so I am up at the ass-crack of dawn for this 7:15am flight. I’ll message you when I land, love you!
12/20 @ 9:04am
Just landed - easy flight. Now to find my dad in arrivals…
Love you, talk when you get the chance! x
12/23 @ 4:45am
Hey sweetheart! Back online and all settled in. I’m bunking with Payback and we actually have a pretty decent layout. He graciously offered to give me the bottom bunk, due to my ‘geriatric status.’ Honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have to sleep in the bunk room with the ensigns and rest of the crew. I forgot how noisy it is being on an aircraft carrier, which makes Payback’s snoring surprisingly pleasant. I’m glad he and Bob are with me. The rest of this squadron’s from Lemoore and Bob knows some of them. It’s interesting seeing him and Payback fly together, but they mesh really well.
Glad Mav is there to keep an eye on you.
Okay, I had way too much fun picking out all those presents, so I really hope Carter loves them too. And please tell me you have a picture of Caroline yelling into the bullhorn? I can truly think of nothing scarier than Caroline Calloway ordering the young women of San Diego county around like Santa’s chief elf. And speaking of gifts, I loved my pictures. The one from the Christmas party is my favorite, did Fanboy take it? I saw him running around with his Pentax. When the hell did you have time to print it? I’ve got it hanging up in my bunk so I can see it every night.
I still don’t understand why you don’t fly into Oakland instead of SFO? Like I get it, you’re not a Spirit or SW girl, but kid….it’s an hour and forty minute flight? Live a little. And I think it’ll be nice having your brother and Lauren around for Christmas. How many people do you think it’ll be? I always loved seeing Christmas Eves with large families in movies and stuff, all the chaos and whatnot? But it’s just gonna be you five Christmas Day? I’ve heard rumblings that I might be first in line for a Facetime on Christmas Eve, so save some time for me too, kid. I’ll let you know for sure in a couple days.
Okay, think we’re all caught up now. Talk soon and love you so much,
Your Bradley
12/23 @ 9:08am
Bubs! I read your email four times since I woke up, I can’t stop smiling. I’m glad you’re all settled in - Payback’s snoring and ageism aside haha. How’s the food? Do you want earplugs? A sleep mask? Are earplugs allowed for sleeping? What if you need to get up right away and you can’t hear? I could send you a white noise machine? Or is there a fear of hacking with that? I should’ve done more research on this before you left. Tell me if you need anything, I’ll send it out express! Oh, I’m just so happy to hear from you. Keep me posted!
Lots of love, x
12/23 @ 8:53pm
You and me, hot date tomorrow night at 11:45pst - don’t be late. (And look cute.)
Your Bradley
12/23 @ 8:55pm
I’ll be there 😉 Love you, x
12/25 @ 9:56am
Bradley Bradshaw you absolute sneak! How on Earth did you pull a Christmas miracle off!?! Mary said she had no clue, so I’m extremely impressed you got my dad to keep that secret!? I was totally not expecting another present from you? The cooking lessons and apron were more than enough - to say nothing about moving in together!?! I love the bracelet so much, you have no idea. I started crying when I opened it! Mary took a video, which I’m sure she’ll send you. God, Bradley? You didn’t have to do that! It’s perfect, it’s like we’re locked together. I’m gonna wear it everyday. Please email me later if you get the chance!
(Also, Lauren looked really jealous 😉 my brother was sweating)
Love you and Merry Christmas Rocketman! x
12/25 @ 11:38am
Ummm, not sure what you’re talking about, kid? That sounds like something Santa would do? Probably heard about how good you’ve been this year? x
12/25 @ 11:40am
Thank you, I love it so much and wish I could give you the biggest hug and kiss right now. I’ll have an extra slice of babka for you tonight, talk soon and Merry Christmas, Bradley! Love you x
12/27 @ 4:49am
I miss sleeping next to you. Whenever I can’t sleep, I think about the way you looked at me in the living room after our Christmas party. You looked so happy and I hate that I have to leave you for all our firsts. First Christmas, first New Year’s, first Valentine’s Day. And god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking gorgeous it makes me want to lose my mind sometimes. Always thinking about you, Bradley
12/27 @ 8:38am
I miss sleeping next to you, too (especially since your body is like a furnace and you hold me close when I get cold). And I know you being away during the holidays is hard, but look at it this way - we’ll just have our firsts next year. Next year will be our first Christmas, first New Year’s, first Valentine’s Day together, not an ocean apart. We have all the time in the world, rocketman. Love you today and every day x
12/29 @ 6:02pm
There’s already so many things I’m dying to tell you and stories about the squadron we’re teaming up with, but the Navy will have my ass if I give away too many details so I’m just going to leave it at this: are we sure Max doesn’t have a twin on another continent? Take that as you will. What’re your plans for New Year’s? Your Bradley
12/30 @ 9:20am
Sorry for the delayed response! A minor issue with my brother and my dad that I won’t bore you with had the whole house in a tizzy. Thankfully, he and Lauren are gone even though my dad still won’t tell me what the issue was? Anyway! God, I wish I could hear more about Max’s twin? I am honestly kind of scared about knowing there’s a Max doppelgänger in the Navy (jokes!). For New Year’s, I’m going to this party with Mary and dad in the city, it’s at this fancy venue and I have a cute black dress! It’s very different for me and I wish you were here to see it! I’ll have to wear it again. Message me when it’s the New Year your time! Love you! x
01/01 @ 12:09am
Happy New Year, sweetheart! They had a little party for the officers - we even got cake and Bob snuck me and Payback seconds somehow. It’s always the quiet ones you gotta look out for. You absolutely need to send me pictures of you in that dress, I can’t wait to see it on you in person someday. Hope you have a great time with your dad and Mary, give them my best. Love you and again Happy New Year!
Your Bradley
01/01 @ 12:01am
Happy New Year, Bradley!!! You got cake!! You broke some rules! I approve! Milk them for all the cake they’re worth! I’ll send some pics of the three of us and one just for you big boy 😉 Talk soon and love you so so much! x
01/01 @ 10:59am
Had a late start! Here are the pics from last night! Try and sneak some more cake xx
[mary_and_dad_being_annoying.jpg]
[me.jpg]
01/02 @ 6:12am
You know you labeled the pictures wrong…luckily no one was behind me…
01/02 @ 9:04am
Who? Me? I would NEVER! (Just trying to keep you on your toes.) Hope the flying is going well and you’re staying safe, B! Love you!
01/03 @ 8:00pm
Yeah, it’s going well. It’s so different flying on the open ocean after so long? Last time was in September when I went to Hong Kong. The desert is cool, don’t get me wrong, but seeing the clouds and the water together is unreal. The pink and purple clouds remind me of you (sorry, that was lame). You still gotta let me take you up, kid. I’ve heard Mav is trying to convince you, but you gotta let me be the one. Can’t trust just anyone with my girl. Love B
01/04 @ 10:13am
Bradley…he’s practically your father, I’m pretty sure you can trust him to take me up in a plane, you silly boy. Not that I’m saying you won’t be my first…but come on! And it’s not lame. I like that the pink and purple clouds remind you of me. Every time I see a plane I send a little call out for your safety. Gotta keep you safe, rocketman! Talk soon and love you! x
01/06 @ 4:45pm
My parents just dropped me off at the airport and no matter how many times I leave them, I always cry. I think the only time I didn’t cry when I left their house was when you were with me over Thanksgiving. You always make it better, bubs.
They’re coming down in a couple weeks to help me start packing, anything in the house you wouldn’t want them to see while dropping off boxes? I can still bring my old bed, etc for the guest room, right?
All my love, x
01/06 @ 9:58pm
I think I get that, having you around this time makes it different. I’ve never had anyone to really write to while I’ve been away before. Sure, I talked to my grandparents when they were still around and my aunts and uncles, Nat, Ice, and a couple others, but not like this. And I don’t ever want to not feel like this again.
I’m an open book, kid. Ain’t got nothing to hide. And yeah, anything like that feel free to bring with you for the guest room or office. It was the bed, nightstands, and dresser and then your couch for the office, yeah? We can get new bedding and pillows for it if you want? I’m on comms blackout for a couple days, so message me whenever you want so I can read them all when we’re back online.
Your Bradley
01/06 @ 10:07pm
Perfect! Love you and stay safe, rocketman.
01/06 @ 10:09pm
Love you too, kid.
01/09 @ 6:11pm
Bradley, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there was a raccoon in your garage! Scratch that, a FAMILY of raccoons!??! I’m sure Mr Harrington was ready to call the cops when he heard my scream. They’re so cute, but also terrifying at the same time? So, I called Pete and he came right over, a true knight in shining armor! Amelia and I did a THOROUGH sweep of the house to make sure they were relegated to the garage. Pete got them out safe and sound with a random tennis racket and your 4 iron, but somebody’s coming tomorrow to check on how they got in there. And I know they aren’t hurting anyone, but I just don’t want there to be any issues later on? (The babies were actually so cute and reminded me of my cat growing up, Porter.) Anyway! Enough drama for tonight, I hope that gets a laugh out of you - talk soon!
Love you! x
01/10 @ 8:05am
Well, the exterminator got here around 7:30 and sprayed all this stuff and blocked the hole in the crawl space of the garage. He showed me pictures and let me tell you, there was quite the nest up there. These raccoons were living large over the holidays.
01/12 @ 5:21pm
Okay! I’m in the parking lot, waiting for my first cooking class to start. Is it weird I’m a little nervous? I hope everyone else’s skill level is similar, I don’t like feeling behind. I brought my new apron, ironed it and everything. I feel a little like Ina Garten, isn’t she just divine? Okay, okay, I’m going in now! I’ll let you know how it goes! Thanks again for getting me these xx
01/12 @ 7:03pm
I feel so tired? Like my hand cramped a little bit? We started off the class with knife skills, which we’re going to do every week and then made this “simple” egg dish, which was NOT simple and I overcooked the egg. Ina would be so disappointed. Alas! Onto next week. Love you!
01/15 @ 9:12pm
Bradley you’re not going to BELIEVE what just happened on Succession. My heart is POUNDING? Do you think if I called and asked really nicely the Navy would get an HBO subscription for everyone? That is what I would like my tax dollars to go towards. Can you get me a direct line to someone in charge please? Love you!
01/16 @ 7:47am
Not to worry my little Barefoot Contessa, I have returned back to civilization (ie the internet), though am dismayed to have missed this mind blowing Succession episode? Has Perry Mason started back up again or will we be able to watch that together?
Bob and I were in the gym earlier and he almost dropped a dumbbell on my foot, I swear my life flashed before my eyes. But I had a new PR on the bench press today, up to 285 pounds. Glad the cooking lesson went well though! What’s the class makeup like? x Bradley
01/16 @ 9:04am
I’m glad you’re back online and safe! Perry Mason has not started yet, though I’m still certain you’re the only person under the age of 55 that watches it (I guess I should say we’re the only people under the age of 55 that watch it, but whatever). You’ve also missed a couple Top Chef episodes, but we can always binge this season later.
There’s about 12 of us in the class and it’s pretty evenly split? Though there’s tragically this really annoying couple who were at the station next to me. I hope we get to change next week, I don’t think I can watch them feed each other food another week.
And I’m still waiting for that direct line to the Navy, Bradshaw! Love you! x
01/1 6 @ 6:59pm
Wait, wait, how did I miss there? There was a WHAT in my garage? A raccoon? Multiple raccoons? We need to get a dog or a cat or something. x Bradley
01/18 @ 7:02am
Bradley!! I know we talked about a trip once you got home (provided you still feel up for it with the transition and all), what if we went here? I was talking about our tentative plans with my dad and Mary before I went back to San Diego and they went to Punta Mita this past fall and LOVED it! What do you think? Love you!
01/18 @ 6:03pm
Holy shit! That looks absolutely amazing, yes I’d love to go! Can we afford that though? It looks expensive? xBradley
01/18 @ 6:05pm
YAY!! Ahh, I’m so excited you have no idea! I want to hug and kiss you so bad right now! We can fly for free since I have a bunch of AA points (thank you pwc) and then I have like a million Amex points, so it’s not full price!!
01/18 @ 6:12pm
When you say ‘like a million’ do you actually mean a million or?
01/18 @ 6:14pm
Yes! I’ve had this card for like 15 years! My whole family does the pooling on it! It’s a drop in the bucket, promise! Plus, I always use my other card for work and that has a whole bunch of Bonvoy points on it, too. We could stay at one of those? I think there’s a St Regis next door?
01/18 @ 6:22pm
Sweetheart, I want to go, I just don’t want you to waste all those points on this.
01/18 @ 6:26pm
What if we go for 6 nights instead of 9? Maybe no plunge pool? Or we could pay cash instead? And then I could get 6x the points from paying that way? So, really….the points just keep accumulating, we’ve got to use them sometime! The points can pay for the flights and the hotel and then we can split the room charges and incidentals 50:50?
Will you think about it? You don’t have to give me an answer right away and we can always pick another hotel? But if we want to go someplace in late March/early April, I think we should book soon with spring break and all? Not that I imagine many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, but you never know…
01/18 @ 6:33pm
You gotta send me a ppt on all this points stuff, you know math stresses me out. And no, I don’t think many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, kid.
01/18 @ 6:37pm
Can I send you a dossier with everything!?! Even if you say no to that I’m doing it anyway ;) just promise me you’ll think about it, please? I’ll do whatever you want, Bradley <3
01/18 @ 6:40pm
Yes, please send the dossier my way henceforth, Moneypenny.
And you’ll do whatever I want, huh? Might have to send you a dossier of my own now…
(But yes, I promise I’ll seriously consider everything. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to spend all this money to make me happy. I’d say we’d both be happy camping out on the beach, but I think that might be a security issue down there, plus neither of us like camping - anyway, you know what I mean.)
01/18 @ 6:43pm
Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!! Is this a dossier for my eyes only? What will M say!? I’ll send you mine if you send me yours?
(But seriously, thank you! I’ll send you more specifics tomorrow - like pricing and whatnot - and you can take a couple days to think it over. And thank you for clarifying the camping thing, I was worried for a second there.)
I love you so much rocketman and we’ll talk (email) tomorrow
x Moneypenny
01/18 @ 6:46pm
I’d say ‘sleep tight,’ but that’s a given considering you haven’t been fucked in a couple weeks.
(Perfect, I genuinely am really excited about it, just want to make sure it works out for us both.)
Love you so much, kid
Your Bradley
01/18 @ 6:58pm
Bradley Bradshaw!! You did not just say that over a government email server!
Imissyourcocksobadlyit’sdrivingmeinsane
01/18 @ 7:01pm
Couldn’t help it. Plus, we both know it’s true.
01/18 @ 7:04pm
Oh, shut up. Shut me up
01/18 @ 11:43pm
I’m sorry if I came off too strong about planning earlier, I might’ve gotten a little carried away and been a little too eager about planning something five days after you’re home from a three month detachment. If at any time before you come home or even right after you come home you don’t feel up to the trip, please please please tell me. I want to do something nice for you and give you a chance to truly relax, but I’d hate for it to come at a price. So, just let me know, okay? Say the word and we’ll push it, alright? I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, but tell me if it’s ever too much. I’ll always be here, promise. Love you x
[dossier_for_your_eyes_only.ppt]
01/19 @ 8:29am
Kid, no. I promise I’ll tell you. You know I love how excited you get planning things. I think I like it so much because you take care of it all. Sure, you ask for my opinion and what I want, but I just have to tell you one thing, one idea and you take care of it.
Funny though, isn’t it? How it’s totally opposite in the other side of our relationship? You tell me one thing, one idea and I take care of all of it? Bet it’s hard for you not having someone around to do that for you? Maybe next time we Facetime we can talk more about that? x B
01/19 @ 10:11am
Luckily, I have a very creative imagination, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.
See right now, I’m in my office, sitting at my desk, feeling so overwhelmed. It almost hurts how overwhelmed and frustrated I am. And you bust down the door, hair windswept like you’d flown to Del Mar, and you have that slutty flight suit on and I don’t even mind that you’re sweaty and gross. You smell absolutely divine and I rake my hands through your hair as you eat me out underneath my glass desk. I get a conference call, but you don’t stop the entire time. You like how squirmy and fussy I get, I can’t focus on the deliverable I’m working on for the client. You like that I can’t control myself, that I squeeze my thighs around your head. Eventually, you can’t take it anymore, your cock is aching so badly, and you need to fuck me on top of my desk. You’re so strong it almost breaks. You fuck me so good everyone in the office can hear me crying out for you.
(actually, I’m on the couch, watching college football, but it’s more fun to imagine you fucking me in my office - see, creative imagination! Make sure you get a quiet room for that Facetime...)
Love x
01/19 @ 7:29pm
You think you’re funny, huh? You have any more of those thoughts, feel free to send them my way. ‘m taking out that picture you gave me for Christmas right now. How you taking care of yourself? My imagination isn’t as creative as yours. B
01/19 @ 7:40pm
Guess you’ll have to wait for our next Facetime…
x
01/20 @ 4:24pm
Your dad and Mary write me emails, you know. They aren’t as good correspondents as you are (for how could they possibly be, my dear?), but they check in about once a week or so. Mary sends me some of the articles she gives her students and talks about the show she’s watching with your dad. Your dad mainly talks about you. It makes me wish my parents were still around to do this stuff with me. Just checking in and writing emails and bragging about me to my girlfriend? How was yesterday’s class?
Your Bradley
01/20 @ 5:39m
I didn’t know they wrote you that often and I’m beyond embarrassed that my dad talks about me that much? But come on, Bradley…you have someone who does that, too? He’s about 5’8” (on a good day), looks great in a leather jacket, and just spent about two hours last weekend cleaning your gutters and telling me about how you won your high school’s debate scholarship?? Like how could you not tell me that? It’s literally one of the hottest things I’ve heard about you!
Class was good! They taught us a trick to cut onions without crying and one of the other girls complimented my apron! We’re doing meats next week, cutting, marinating, cooking, etc. and I’m excited!
01/20 @ 5:42pm
Oh gee, I bet it’s just awful for you to have Mav around all the time. Knight in shining armor…
01/20 @ 5:48pm
He’s not a bother! And it’s not all the time! We’re actually going to get lunch together on Saturday! It’s this new place on the water.
01/20 @ 5:50pm
Sounds like a cute little date! You’ll have to tell me how he is. Love you so much B
01/20 @ 5:55pm
I’ll keep ya posted, bubs! Love you!
01/22 @ 10:01am
Breaking news, kid. Your esteemed, naval aviator boyfriend is going to be on 60 Minutes at the end of February. Totally came out of left field, but I couldn’t say anything until they finished filming. It’s about the Navy in the Pacific and “the lost art of shipbuilding.” They even rigged up a camera on my plane and everything, it was so cool. I’ve been dying to tell you, but again couldn’t say anything until it was official. I probably won’t be on it long since they interviewed the Admiral and Pac Fleet Commander for most of it, but yeah, Payback and Bob and I will be on with my girl Norah. I made sure I had enough sunscreen on so I was camera ready at all times. Love you B
01/22 @ 10:09am
YOU’RE FUCKING SHITTING ME????? Oh my god, Bradley! That’s amazing! Margie even ran into my office to see what made me shriek! I am TOTALLY having a viewing party! Oh my god, how do you think it went? Did they get your good side? What about hair and makeup? I know you get helmet hair, bubs.
Seriously, so so excited and proud of you, Bradley! I’m going to make my dad and Mary come down for it! She doesn’t teach on Mondays, so this is perfect for them to stay over Sunday night! But now don’t go letting all that fame get to your head, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw 😉 Love you so much x
01/24 @ 12:17pm
Rocketman -
I was sitting at my desk earlier and listening to some music before my 12:30 meeting and Elton John’s Rocket Man popped up on my shuffle. Obviously, as you are my rocketman, I always think of you whenever I hear it, but today the lyrics really scratched that special part of my brain, so I did a deep dive into the song’s origins.
Please note, I’m including this time in my billable hours to the client (re. you). My findings are as follows:
Bernie Taupin was inspired by a Ray Bradbury story written in 1951 titled ‘The Rocket Man’ - not drugs as the urban legend states! Drugs! Imagine!
Bradbury’s ‘The Rocket Man’ was first published in Maclean’s, a weekly Canadian magazine, before it was published in the short story collection ‘The Illustrated Man’ that same year
‘The Illustrated Man’ later was made into a film, though ‘The Rocket Man’ story was notably absent
Some of more popular and renowned stories from the collection include ‘The Veldt’ and ‘The Long Rain,’ the latter of which is commonly read in high school honors English
Was client in honors English? Please confirm in follow up correspondence
Client has mentioned extensive library resources at disposal - perhaps he can check this collection out on his next visit? But for now, an executive summary has been provided:
With space travel more commonplace in society, Doug’s father, an astronaut, is sent on frequent, three- month journeys into space
Despite missing his dad, Doug also longs to be a Rocket Man, though his mother frequently prevails on Doug to beg his father to stay on Earth and be with the family
“What’s it like, out in space?” Mother shot me a frightened glance. It was too late. Dad stood there for a full half minute trying to find an answer, then he shrugged.“It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things.” Then he caught himself. “Oh, it’s really nothing at all. Routine. You wouldn’t like it.” He looked at me, apprehensively. “But you always go back.” “Habit.”
The father finds that his work is ruining his life, but the draw of the stars is too great: "You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, if I ever get back to Earth I’ll stay there; I’ll never go out again. But I got out, and I guess I’ll always go out.”
Even while on vacation with the family, having Thanksgiving dinner, or sitting on the back porch, the father’s eyes are always on the sky…
Doug’s father begs him to not be like him, to not be a rocket man, but what happens when his father goes on one last journey to the stars?
Through much reflection, I have decided that ‘The Rocket Man’ was written about you - and your mom and your dad and me and on and on until there is no longer a need for Rocket Men - or the rocket man simply stops and breaks the cycle
You are both the Rocket Man and the little boy, forever waiting for his father to come home from space
The allure of flying, of being a ‘rocket man,’ is both too great and too sad for you to ignore
None of this is to say the rocket man is selfish, no. He simply cannot resist the temptation. He knows nothing other than the thrill and peace of being amongst the stars
And his mother shielding Doug from the sun at the end is like your mom asking Mav to pull your papers, she does it to save him, but it cannot keep him from becoming his father
Needless to say - I had to postpone my 12:30 meeting until tomorrow as my eyes were far too puffy and any word I tried to say felt like cotton in my mouth.
I miss you and I love you - your ‘Lilly’
01/24 @ 8:22pm
Fuck - I love you so much. My clever girl.
01/24 @ 8:28pm
I pour my heart out to you and that’s all you have to say, rocketman? ‘Fuck - I love you so much’
(of course, I also love you so much, my clever boy.)
01/24 @ 8:30pm
Darling - it’s going to take me a little longer to come up with any commentary you deem appropriate, so for the sake of time, yes. I gotta read this story in full. I’ll be at the library at my earliest convenience. ‘The client’ will send an annotated copy with his notes henceforth.
01/24 @ 8:32pm
Of course, sweet boy. Goodnight, I love you so much. x
01/25 @ 11:44am
As promised, my darling girl. Love you.
[b.bradshaw_the rocket man_final paper.pdf]
01/25 @ 7:14pm
Oh Bradley! I love you so much, rocketman. Yes, I couldn’t have said it better. Yours x
01/26 @ 10:39am
Bradley! They’re sending me to London in February for two weeks! I even get a swanky corporate apartment for the stay. I wish you could come with me - even if it was just for a long weekend? We could go to all my favorite restaurants and afternoon tea and for walks in all the parks. One day it’ll work out!
But tragedy of all tragedies! I just realized I’m going to miss a couple cooking lessons when I’m in London! I already emailed the instructor before today’s class and she said there’s other classes throughout the week that are behind us, so I can make it up with them! Ahhh I’m so excited! Talk soon, love you!
01/26 @ 11:13pm
I didn’t realize how nervous I was about the trip until I went to bed tonight. It’ll be my first trip abroad since I got my promotion in November. Plus, it’s a completely different client than my last trip abroad and I’ve only met one person on this new London team before. Sometimes I go into these meetings and still feel like a little kid? I’m always the youngest person in the room and normally the only woman and on one hand, that’s cool? But sometimes I feel like someone’s daughter instead of their colleague? Like these guys are my dad’s age? And they’re actually supposed to listen to what I have to say about their company? Do you ever feel like that? Like you don’t really belong, despite knowing you’ve earned your place? I wish you were beside me right now. My bed feels way too big tonight. Love you.
01/27 @ 7:48am
Sweetheart! I am so unbelievably proud of you! That’s amazing! You gotta celebrate, go out to dinner with Caro and Darcy, maybe even Nat! I know you’ve been working so hard these last couple of weeks, you absolutely deserve this. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, but yes. I have absolutely felt like I haven’t belonged or deserved something despite having ‘checked off all the boxes.’ I felt that way when I got promoted to LC and when I got that award in October. Everytime I see it on my uniform, I feel a bit like a faker? Like do I really deserve this? But then I remember the way you smiled at me when I got back to my seat that night and how proud of me you were and I think maybe I do deserve it? Plus, I also think of how goddamn gorgeous you looked all fucked out later that night.
And please note, I would happily slip into bed alongside you, especially since my bed feels way too small tonight. Love you, Bradley
01/27 @ 10:56am
Thank you for earlier. I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like I’m just too soft for all of this? Like I’m always trying to prove something to everyone and I get a little lost. Tell me something good? x
01/27 @ 7:01pm
How about this? Every time I go up in the sky and see the way the sun hits the clouds, I think of you. I’ve never wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with you. I love you so much, kid
Your Bradley
01/27 @ 7:06pm
Sometimes I can’t believe we love each other this much, it feels like a dream x
01/27 @ 7:11pm
I can. Your Bradley
01/30 @ 7:08am
i slept in one of your shirts last night. it doesn’t smell like you anymore, but it feels like you: soft and safe and warm x
01/30 @ 7:23am
Well I spray my pillowcase with your perfume whenever I miss you so I guess we’re even
Your Bradley
ps - can you send me another bottle?
01/30 @ 7:34am
You’re already out? What sort of illicit behavior are you engaging in with that perfume bottle?
01/30 @ 10:33pm
I burrow my face in my pillow so I can smell it while I fist my cock, why? What’d you have in mind?
01/30 @ 10:37pm
How does that work though? Like genuinely? Do you jack off with Rueben in the top bunk? Or wait till he’s in the gym? I’ve been curious about this for a while now. What about the showers? Is it like an open floor plan thing? Or are there stalls? Is there a Zillow listing for this aircraft carrier?
01/30 @ 10:41pm
Now why would I ruin the mystery?
01/30 @ 10:43pm
Bradley!!!!
01/30 @ 10:44pm
Atta girl, that’s the spirit! Love you
02/02 @ 6:30pm
I am so sick of going to the gym. It seems like it’s all Payback and I do lately. We got this new workout regime that’s been killing me - don’t say it’s because I’m old. Though, I have been using my Theragun. Payback does my back if I do his in return. It was only awkward the first time he turned it on too hard and yelped (please tell everyone that).
02/02 @ 6:46pm
Oh, so you and Rueben Theragun each other, huh? Say more Lieutenant Commander!
02/04 @ 2:45pm
Going to Pete and Penny’s in a bit to watch the Super Bowl! Max is at the game, apparently his golf buddy Jimmy G hooked him up, though he neglected to bring me or Caroline. I feel like you would’ve been his first choice, so take that as a compliment I suppose. Do you guys do anything onboard for it? I have $350 on the 49ers winning by 3. Have a lovely day my darling boy x
02/04 @ 9:30pm
Guess who’s as snug as a bug on a rug in her bed AND $1400 dollars richer? That would be me! When you get home we’re going to Juniper and Ivy, my treat, bubs! x
02/06 @ 4:57am
Awww sweetheart are you gonna sugar mama me again?
02/06 @ 7:03am
You do know the only reason you’re getting away with that is because there’s an ocean between us, right?
02/06 @ 6:00pm
Sorry, couldn’t resist! Love you! B
02/06 @ 6:10pm
You’re lucky I love you so much. x
02/08 @ 9:58pm
Can you imagine if I was gone for 20 years?
02/08 @ 10:11pm
Bradley that’s not funny
02/08 @ 10:13pm
It’s not supposed to be. I’m reading the Odyssey and it got me thinking.
02/08 @ 10:16pm
Bradley I love you something awful, but you are such an old man sometimes.
Are you going through some sort of midlife crisis reading the Odyssey while you’re at sea?? Is the Old Man and the Sea next?
(ps i love the thought of you reading in your bunk in your spare time and being so struck by something composed thousands of years ago that you have to email me)
02/08 @ 10:20pm
They wait 20 years to get back to each other - practically half their lives. They miss so many things and barely knew each other before he left, but they’re still so - I don’t even know? They’re just so intent on getting back to the other in Odysseus’s case? While Penelope makes sure there’s something for him to come back to? And I must’ve read this stanza ten times before I had to email you:
"...the gods cast me upon Ogygia, Calypso's island, home of the dangerous sea nymph with glossy braids, and the goddess took me in in all her kindness, welcomed me warmly, cherished me, even vowed to make me immortal, ageless, all my days - but she never won the heart inside me, never"
And I know it’s not a perfect comparison or parallel, but I read that last bit and I couldn’t help but think of you? And how you’re the one who won my heart and it’s always going to be that way. Whether I see you in twenty seconds or twenty years.
02/08 @ 10:23pm
You’d come home to me whether it took twenty seconds or twenty years. You’d come home to me and I’d know you anywhere. I love you so much.
02/08 @ 10:58pm
“Now help me, please, to get back home, and quickly! I miss my family. I have been gone so long it hurts.”
Your Bradley
02/09 @ 7:03pm
At the airport for London! Taking off! And I may or may not have used points to upgrade to a Club World seat…but like? It’s a nonstop flight, so it’s okay, right? Work’s already paying for business class? It’s points from my work card? It’ll be fine, right?
I had to take an ativan in the lounge. I just hate that I still get so nervous whenever I fly long distance? I fly all the time, I shouldn’t be like this? You know, one time, I pretended you were flying my plane. I know it’s kind of dumb and silly and a completely different type of plane, but it made me feel better because you’d never let anything happen to me.
Anyway, we’re book buddies!! I went to the bookstore a couple days ago and got a copy! I read the Odyssey back in high school, but forgot so much. I was reading in the lounge and this part made me think of you:
“...this lovely house, my marriage home, so full of wealth and life, which I suppose I will remember even in my dreams.”
I’ll text you when I land my darling boy, love you x
02/10 @ 6:02am
You gotta squeeze every last bit of your per diem out of pwc. You’ve been working way too hard lately. Fuck it, on the way home just put the upgrade on your work card or put it on mine. Have a safe (rest of your) flight - maybe one day you’ll let me take you up. Love Bradley
02/10 @ 10:08am
Just landed and on my way to the office (already…)
I thought of you as I read and stared out the window on the plane. I could pretend I’m flying towards you, rather than further away. I can’t imagine how you feel doing this everyday, but I imagine it’s like feeling limitless, like everything is in front of you, there for the taking. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you take me up one day.
I’ll keep you posted on how everything’s going if you do the same. All my love x
02/12 @ 5:49am
How’s it going, kid? They working you too hard? You’re in London! Try to enjoy it, you deserve it. One of the guys I’m with gave me a restaurant recommendation for you, said the drinks were amazing, his wife loved it. Do something fun while you’re there! And send me some pictures dammit!
Love you,
Bradley
02/12 @ 8:22am
Bradley! It’s been so so crazy here! I feel like I haven’t stopped since I landed. My ‘flat’ is so cute and right by the client’s offices, so it’s an easy commute. I feel so professional taking the Tube places too! It’s one thing I’d like us to have in San Diego as opposed to all the traffic. Also, it’s CHILLY here and I’m so glad I dug my big coat out of storage. I’ll try and check the restaurant out this weekend, I’m gonna sneak in a trip to the Tate, too. I’ve always wanted to see the Turners. Talk soon and love you bunches! x
02/14 @ 9:54am
Bradley Bradshaw! You absolute SAP! HOW!?! Did you conspire with my dad again? Thank you for the flowers! I’m going to have the biggest smile on my face all day. I love you and hope this is the first of a lifetime of Valentine’s Days together. Always x
02/14 @ 7:33pm
Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, kid. I’m not gonna lie, I gave your dad very specific instructions for the bouquet (I was going to ask Max, but he’d probably swap it for something ugly and cheap and keep the change…kidding (not)), so I’m glad they turned out well. It was a very big day on board today: we got special red heart cookies for the holiday. The mood was infectious, I can still taste the sprinkles. Maybe you could cook for me on our next Facetime? Have you learned anything good in class lately? It doesn’t have to be fancy, just wanna see you (and maybe also live vicariously through whatever you’re making).
02/14 @ 7:33pm
Bradley! I think I can swing that for you, when do you think our next call will be?
02/16 @ 3:18pm
Kid, you spoil me. This package is amazing, I don’t know where to start (just kidding it’s with the Cadbury chocolate and the Sudocrem as my burnt shoulders thank you), but everything is wonderful, thank you. I love hearing about London and seeing the pictures you sent last time. But I do have one complaint…you’re not in any of the pictures, kid, and that’s truly egregious. (Think we won’t be able to Facetime for a while, I gave Payback my slot the other day.)
02/16 @ 3:23pm
That’s not true! I’m in the one in front of the Tate!
02/16 @ 3:25pm
Yeah, but I can’t see you under all those layers! Just want to see your face. It’s been way too long since our last Facetime.
02/16 @ 9:52pm
As requested, Lieutenant Commander. I had one of the girls in the London office take this at dinner tonight. She really did wonders with the lighting and even managed to get my sidecar in the pic! x Love you
02/17 @ 6:55am
You look pretty. New dress? B
02/17 @ 7:17am
Maybe…it was on sale, couldn’t resist. But you’re gonna hate me because all of my clothes are very much not going to fit in your closet. Also, I bought you a new jacket and some socks. x
02/17 @ 7:20am
Ehhh I’m not too worried about the closet thing. But if you keep buying me clothes we might have a problem.
02/17 @ 7:24am
It’s so cute though!! You’re going to look so handsome in it! I got the green one for you!
02/17 @ 7:29am
Okay, admittedly a very nice jacket, thank you. But you are aware that we live in San Diego…
02/17 @ 7:31am
I am aware of that fact, LC Bradshaw. You can wear it when we visit my parents. Hell, I had to get my coat out of my storage closet for this trip.
02/17 @ 6:53pm
Sighhhhh you raise a good point. Alright, alright, thank you for the jacket and socks my darling girl. What’d you have for dinner last night? We had chicken with these absolutely awful biscuits, tasted like saw dust, my stomach was growling for some more of that Cadbury chocolate (yes, Payback and I ate all of it already, though it was mainly Payback) for hours afterward.
02/17 @ 6:59pm
Oh my sweet boy! Who do I need to call about your meal plan? Give me the number and I’ll call the Navy up right now. And I had scallops with truffle risotto. It was delicious. Wanted to lick the bowl clean. Love you bubs x
02/19 @ 10:22pm
Bubs, I cannot eat another meal out. I feel like I’m going to burst. I’ve gone to so many work dinners and lunches even before coming here, it almost makes me feel like a glutton.
I miss you and your cooking (though I’ll have you know that my skills were vastly improving before my trip abroad!) and you standing behind me at the counter while I try to perfectly cut peppers. Sometimes I do it wrong on purpose so you’ll put your arms around me and I can feel the rumble of your voice. Would we call that weaponized incompetence? You better be ready for some Michelin Star meals when you get home, buddy. I just can’t wait to be home with you and roll over next to you in the morning and to tell you to stop snoring and that the battery in the smoke detector needs to be changed. I can’t wait to be home with you and make a life with you. I’m going to be really sappy now, but let me have this because I was reading this poem the other day and thought of you.
“I am supposed to be touched. I can’t wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?” (x)
Only a month until you’re home with me, I hope you’re hungry.
All my love x
02/20 @ 4:50am
It’s only weaponized incompetence if the other person minds. I, however, do not mind. I loved that quote you sent me, going to be thinking about that one for a long time. I hate to tell you this, but I’m gonna be offline for a couple days. I hate that it’s at the end of your trip, but please please message me when you’re leaving/taking off and again when you land, you know I worry. Love you and am so unbelievably proud of you, kid! You killed it in London. Your Bradley
02/20 @ 7:03am
That’s okay, I totally understand. I’ll give you all the details on our next Facetime. In the meantime, I message you when I leave. Stay safe and love you, Bradley! x
02/23 @ 3:45pm
Taking off soon! I got an upgrade again, thankfully! And I made sure to put your new coat in my carry on - I don’t trust British Airways not to lose it! Taking an ativan again so hopefully I’ll sleep the entire flight - love you and talk soon!
02/24 @ 10:33pm
Just landed, slept through….90% of the flight! Apparently, there was bad turbulence, so probably for the best. Now, I know you would never have me deal with that my darling rocketman! Talk later - love you! x
02/25 @ 7:09pm
Feels kind of weird being back? I can’t quite get back into my routine. I’m not sure if it’s jet lag or something else? Feeling a little lost? x
02/26 @ 7:55pm
Bradley!!! You were so good, I’m so so proud of you! Max had everyone over at his place for us to watch you! We have quite the party here including my parents, Pete, Penny and Amelia, Natasha, Mickey and Cielo, Caroline, and Darcy. I’ll have to tell you about the parents meeting later. I wish you had been here for it, they took to each other like bees to honey.
You looked tragically handsome, I practically had to hold back a moan when you were standing on the flight deck talking to Norah O’Donnell (is she as nice in person as she is on TV?). God, I want to ravish you, you sounded so fucking smart. You know like half the country is going to be in love with you now, right? I’ve got to get back to everyone, Max ordered dinner for us afterwards, but I had to email you as soon as you finished!
Just wanted to let you know how proud of you I am and how much I love you x
02/27 @ 5:09am
Thanks, kid. Sorry it took me a bit to respond, things have been getting a bit crazy, you know, now that I’m a celebrity and all? We’re winding down this training, so the next couple weeks are gonna be full of debriefs and paperwork, which means I should have a more stable schedule. Love you B
02/28 @ 11:48pm
Sometimes I wonder if you were here what would you do? Hold me? Love me? I never feel small except when I’m in your arms. x
02/29 @ 11:48pm
Some nights in bed, if I try really hard, I can imagine I’m laying down next to you. And it makes everything just a little easier. Bradley
03/01 @ 12:56am
I haven’t taken anything besides my fingers in months. You’re going to stretch me out so well when you get home.
03/01 @ 7:19pm
And I’m gonna mark your ass pink for that comment. I can’t believe you sent that in the middle of the day. You getting yourself off at work? Dirty girl.
03/01 @ 9:41pm
Never feels as good as when you do it.
03/01 @ 10:01pm
And my hands pale in comparison to your pretty little cunt. You know that first time we slept together you were so fucking tight, I knew you hadn’t had a good fuck in ages. It gonna be like that again when I come home?
03/01 @ 10:05pm
Where are you going to have me first?
03/01 @ 10:06pm
In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen.
03/01 @ 10:09pm
Just over two weeks now, I can’t wait to see you. x
03/03 @ 5:55am
How you holding up, kid? You doing a little better this week work wise? Try and log off around 5 if you can. Don’t want you getting all worn down on me.
They had us doing these war games yesterday that made me think of you. You would’ve walked circles around some of these other guys I swear. Think I can get a Facetime for us in a couple days? Probably will be our last one before I come home. Love you, B
03/03 @ 7:12am
Bradley! That's the best news I’ve had in ages! I can’t wait to see you! Definitely felt a little lost after coming back from London, but I hope my rut will be over soon? Tying things up with a client is always so lengthy and tedious.
War games! ‘Would you like to play a game?’ I’d ask if you won, but no one ever wins in the art of war 😉Love you!
03/05 @ 8:54pm
So, here’s a new one. My mom called? She’s going to be stateside and wants to get lunch tomorrow. Could’ve done with a bit more warning, but apparently, she has a layover in San Diego on her way to New York to see my brother? I didn’t even know she was going to see him? I don’t even know if I want to see her? It’s funny, I can already tell you exactly how it’ll play out:
We’ll go to lunch at some sort of vegan restaurant, probably Donna Jean
She’ll make me pay
She’ll try to get me to use some sort of herb to promote weight loss since I’m looking a bit “pudgy” around the face
Though she’ll forget to ask about you, she’ll tell me about her latest string of failed relationships with bartenders and surf instructors in Canggu. Or is it Ubud? I genuinely don’t remember, she started in Ubud, but honestly my knowledge of Balinese geography is rudimentary at best
She’ll ask how ‘that woman’ is doing as if Mary is just the woman my dad is seeing, not the woman who raised me and my brother
And finally, she’ll ask for money though betting is still open as to what for!
So, what do you say? Wanna put a wager on it? Your terms.
Love you! x
03/06 @ 6:30am
$100 she orders the caesar and makes you pay. I’m not even going to entertain the third parlay, pretty girl. Oddly feeling like she’s got a winner on her hands so yes she’ll talk about her new paramour. Does she really call Mary ‘that woman?’ And yes, without a question, she will ask you for money.
Your move my gorgeous girl,
Bradley
03/06 @ 7:49pm
I really wish you were here right now. She doesn’t even know me, but she somehow always manages to make me feel small.
Caesar - no croutons
I paid
Pudgy and frumpy, but she was hawking shakes not herbs
Failed relationship? No, she’s actually GETTING MARRIED
She did not ask about you much other than to say I need to watch my figure for you (see bullet point no. 3)
Mary was called ‘that woman’ six times before I stopped counting
She asked for money as a wedding present
So, you didn’t get them all, but not a bad showing. Love you. Talk tomorrow on Facetime. x
03/07 @ 6:09am
God kid, I’m so sorry. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. Actually, I don’t even think she deserves to know what she’s missing. Did you talk to your dad or Mary about it? I know we’re talking later, but I just wanted you to have a message from me before you start your day. What’re you wearing to the office tomorrow? Have you worn that polka dot dress with the bow lately? You know it’s one of my favorites and that I always love unwrapping it when you get home from the office.
Can’t wait to see you tonight. All my love, Bradley
03/07 @ 9:55am
The dress doesn’t fit. My mom was right, I shouldn’t have gotten the french toast.
I’m planning on talking to dad and Mary later today before you and I have our Facetime. I know they’ll make me feel better, much like you have my darling boy, but it still feels pretty crummy. Especially since I’m sure she’s going to have wonderful time in New York with my brother 🙄 and I’ll have to hear all about it next time I talk to him.
And I’m not sure if I’ve unpacked that dress yet! I’ll have to do some digging. Talk soon! x
03/10 @ 3:26am
We had a little baby. He was always giggling and laughing and we were making silly faces and he looked so small in your arms, Bradley. So small and little and he was ours. And then I turned around and he was toddling around the house and we were chasing him and his little legs were moving so quickly and we all wound up on the couch in a tangle of limbs, giggling under the blankets as we tickled him and he called you daddy.
It wasn’t our house - or what will be our house, I guess? Instead of the leather couch you have, it was white and big and wide and the three of us could easily fit on it, snuggled together.
And I could feel your arms around me, rocking me back and forth. I could feel you humming in my ear and kissing my neck and telling me you loved me. I could feel it. I could feel you. I could feel him and you. And it was nice and I felt warm and safe and cherished and loved. Because I felt so much love for this little boy in my arms - the perfect mix of me and you. Everything felt right and perfect.
Except when I rolled over in bed to tell you about it, I realized I was alone in my bed, in my apartment, and not in the house that we shared or with the little boy that looked so much like you and I haven’t felt so empty and sad since I can’t remember when.
And I just miss you so much, Bradley. I know I can come across as glib and unfeeling sometimes and like this doesn’t affect me as much. But it does and sometimes I feel like my heart is going to burst because I’ve never felt like this for anyone else before? It’s never been so easy for me to love someone and let them love me to the point that I always want to be beside them. And I know with your job - and mine - that can’t always happen, but god Bradley I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know you’re real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you.
I love you rocketman x
03/11 @ 12:49pm
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I realize that’s a lot to drop on you, especially since we can’t talk in person. I guess I’ve just never missed a person more in my life and seeing that future showed me what we could have when you come home. God, Bradley I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know it’s selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here - in twenty seconds, not twenty years.
How did your hop go today? x
03/11 @ 7:03pm
I have dreams like that, too. I’ll be little, but still older than I was when my dad died and we’ll be at the beach, running around, and he’ll pick me up and spin me around like I’m flying on an airplane.
But then it’ll be me and my kid, running around and I’ll pick them up and spin them around like they’re flying on an airplane. Sometimes it’s a girl, sometimes a little boy. But I always just can feel and tell that I love them and I’d do anything for them.
And I used to hate waking up alone after I had them and I’d feel empty and sad and like I had the feeling that they should still be there? Except now I have you and I know it doesn’t just have to be a dream?
Sorry it took me so long to reply. Today was hectic and I didn’t get to check my email until later. But if I checked it earlier, my day would’ve been a lot easier on my heart.
All my love,
Your Bradley
03/12 @ 7:11pm
How do you always know exactly what to say? I’m sorry for springing that all on you, know it wasn’t exactly a quick/easy message, but I love that you knew exactly what I meant. My day’s always a lot easier on my heart when I hear from you, too. Love you x
03/13 @ 10:17pm
i miss having you around to take care of me. and telling me what to do and what to wear for you and how you want me and where you want me and when you want me and and and. and how good i feel around you as you come, how you take what’s yours. how i need you to take control and tell me what i need because i’m too much of a dumb slut to figure it out on my own. i need you so much bradley. and it’s so hard because i’m trying to take care of myself like you do and imagine what you’d do if you were with me right now. but i’m so frustrated since no one takes care of me like you do. i feel so empty. nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as it’s yours.
i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley
3/13 @ 10:39pm
Awwww sweetheart, did you get yourself all worked up over me? It’s okay, I know it’s hard for you all by yourself. Must’ve been real bad for you to risk this getting flagged, huh? Poor thing, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.
Want you to pretend I’m next to you, leaning over you as you lay down and touch yourself. Say yes Bradley, more Bradley. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Good girl.
Want you naked under the covers, no frilly little pajama set or anything. No, I want your cum to stain the sheets and then for you to have to clean up in the morning, all embarrassed because you did this. You made yourself like this because you can’t control yourself without me around. All that cum being wasted. Nobody around to lick it off your pussy. So what doesn’t get on the sheets, you have to taste. Good girl.
Want you to use your fingers - only your fingers, I’ll know if you use anything else. Start with your breasts. Think of how perfectly they fit in my hands and how yours aren’t quite the same. They aren’t as big. Aren’t as strong. Play with your nipples, drag your nails across the soft skin on the underside of your breasts.
Want you to sigh my name as you slide your hands down your stomach towards your pretty little pussy. Have you shaved? Gotten a wax? You know how I like it, want it just like that when I get home. Pretend it’s my fingers sliding into your cunt. A few touches and you’re already clenching on air and I’m not even around.
In and out, in and out. Circle your clit with your thumb. Add another finger, then another. You rocking your hips yet? I know you’re soaked. I know you want more. Three fingers can’t stretch you out nearly as much as you need. But I don’t know if you can handle anything else without me around. And I know you would never disagree with me, right? Because you’re my good girl and good girls do what they’re told.
Don’t hesitate to get loud. You’re in our house, in our bed, you can be as loud as you want. Bet you’re getting close, huh? Try and last a little longer, can you hear yourself and how wet you are? Are you shaking yet? I know you’re close. Go ahead, speed up your fingers, just the way I do. It’s okay, you can come. Know you’re gonna get sleepy soon, wish I could sleep inside you, nice and tight.
Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl.
03/14 @ 5:49pm
Thank you, Bradley. Thank you for taking care of me last night
You like chicken piccata, right?
03/14 @ 7:33pm
Yeah, kid, I like chicken piccata.
03/14 @ 7:39pm
Okay, that’s good. I’m going to make it when you come home. I ran it by my cooking instructor. Ina’s recipe of course.
(I’ve read your email seven times since you sent it. I’ve thought about it constantly. I want you to take me softly and slowly that first time. But after that? I can’t wait to let go and float. Love you so much x)
03/15 @ 6:09am
You’re the boss. Good thing I’ll be home soon, you’re gonna run out of material. As is, I had to type that last one with one hand.
Love you,
B
03/15 @ 7:21am
I’ll be good till you get home, promise.
Have a good day, do you think we’ll get to talk much from now till Friday? Love you x
03/15 @ 7:24am
I’ll hold you to it.
I don’t think so, might be able to send one out before leaving the boat. Better make it a good one.
All my love
Your Bradley
03/15 @ 7:25am
You got it! Love you bubs
03/18 @ 11:08pm
Kid - there’s this lyric that keeps running through my head: ‘and I want you right here.’ I want you beside me - today, tomorrow, all my days. I want you right here, beside me forever. In twenty seconds, not twenty years. See you tomorrow.
All my love,
Your Bradley
03/18 @ 11:11pm
See you tomorrow, rocketman. I’ll be the one in blue.
Love you x
a/n: thanks for reading! i'll be back with part ii and part iii (hopefully not in...4 months). i had so much fun writing these and getting to explore a different format and side to their relationship! thanks to alexa @sometimesanalice, kylie @ofstoriesandstardust, cass @notroosterbradshaw, elle @dissonannce, nik @cherrycola27, and loren @heartsofminds for all the support!
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster imagine#bradley and smart aleck#top gun imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#rooster x reader
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28. “– Are you wearing my shirt?” with conrad fisher from tsitp - fluff
Are you wearing my shirt? (Conrad Fisher x Reader)
pairing: Conrad Fisher x reader
warning: fluffy
prompt: “– Are you wearing my shirt?”
words: 422 words
notes: it’s not my best work, but i’m coming back slowly, hope you like it!
────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────
(not my gif)
It was early in the morning, you were coming back from a party at Sheila’s house. To say that you had a hangover from last night was an understatement, all you wanted was to take your dress off and sleep until Christmas. You arrived at the Fisher’s house, the place where you spend all your vacations, carefully you took your shoes off and started walking upstairs trying to not make any noise and damn, you did it, you got into your bedroom like a spy, you were even proud of yourself for it. You took your dress and your bra off and left them in the corner of the room. You opened your wardrobe and started looking for a large shirt to wear, a few minutes later, you found a shirt that was exactly what you were looking for, it was large and it said “Cousins Volleyball Team”, you didn’t think much, put it on and went to bed.
You woke up several hours later starving, you got up and walked like a zoombie to the kitchen to look for something to eat and, hopefully, helps you with the headache that you were feeling. When you walked through the living room, you saw Conrad and Jeremiah there talking about something.
“Good morning sleeping beauty” Conrad said and Jere laughed.
“Morning” you answered sitting besides Conrad and resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m never drinking alcohol again.”
“Tonight we have a bonfire” Jeremiah said and you looked at him.
“After the bonfire I’ll never drink alcohol again.” The brother laughed and you pressed your forehead in Conrad’s shoulder.
“Well, I have to go to work, see you later.” Jeremiah left leaving you and Conrad there.
“Want some waffles?” Conrad asks and you look at him like the answer was obvious. He laughed. “Okay, let’s go to the kitchen” He got up and stopped in front of you looking to the shirt you were wearing. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
You looked down and it was Conrad’s shirt, you didn’t even think about it before putting it on.
“I guess, it was in my wardrobe last night.” You said and Conrad continue looking at you with a small grin at his face. “I can change if you want.” Before you could stand up, Conrad stopped you.
“No, Y/N/N, don’t.”
“But…”
“It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled and you blushed. “So… Waffles?” You smiled in answer and Conrad reaches out to you, you take his hand and both of you walked to the kitchen.
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#conrad fisher#conrad fisher one shot#conrad fisher x reader#conrad fisher x you#the summer i turned pretty#tsitp#team conrad
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