#he gets a name as a treat because I say so

[roosterforme]

You're on the Naughty List, Rooster | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley knows no limits when spoiling his family, especially for his daughter's first Christmas. When he's down to the wire getting everything ready, he lands himself on the naughty list. He'll do whatever it takes to fix things, including calling on one of Santa's helpers for backup.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, smut, oral sex

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is a The Younger Kind one-shot, but it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"What is this?" you asked, holding up a receipt that trailed from your outstretched hand all the way to the floor. "Because I know you didn't spend eight hundred dollars on toys on your way home from work today."

"Uh," Bradley replied, brow puckered. He looked up from his spot on the living room floor next to the Christmas tree where he was putting batteries into a remote control dinosaur. "It's, uh.... well, yeah, I did stop for a few more toys on the way home, but I only spent like seven hundred and sixty bucks..."

"Daddy!" you gasped. "Noah and Noelle already have way too much stuff! And we agreed to put money aside to go to Disney World next summer!"

Bradley rolled his eyes and waved his hand casually in the air. "Don't worry about that. This is Noelle's first Christmas, and I really wanted to spoil her."

You shook your head, balled up the receipt, and threw it at his head. But you were smiling. "Where are these toys?"

"In the Bronco," he muttered. "I was going to sneak them under the tree after you went to bed and hope you didn't notice that I got a few more things."

You deadpanned. "You don't know how to wrap gifts. They would have stuck out like a sore thumb," you muttered, sliding your feet into your slippers and pulling on Bradley's discarded sweatshirt. 

Without another word, you slipped out into the crisp, cool night to retrieve everything. To your dismay, it took you several trips back to the living room before you got all of it.

"You are in so much trouble," you warned, pulling his sweatshirt off and crawling across the floor toward your husband. "You're on the naughty list."

"I'm not," he whispered. "I've been really good all year."

You pointed to the Elf on the Shelf which was perched on the windowsill next to the front door. "That's not what Skittles Junior told Santa. I saw the note he sent to the North Pole. Everyone was on the nice list except for you."

"Including Skittles Senior?" he asked, pulling you close until you were sitting halfway on his lap. The Yorkshire Terrier looked up from her napping spot under the Christmas tree, annoyed that they kept saying her name without offering a treat.

"Especially Skittles Senior," you confirmed.

Bradley wrapped his hands around your waist and whispered, "What if I bought my way onto the nice list?"

"How?" you asked, chin jutting into the air, playfully haughty.

Bradley leaned in, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. You had the softest skin, and he let himself indulge in some kisses before saying, "Maybe I already booked the trip to Disney World."

You gasped softly. "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Did you pick a nice hotel?"

"For my family? The nicest."

"And we get to go for a week?"

"A full seven days, Princess," he rasped, brown eyes reflecting the lights on the tree as you tipped his head back to examine his face.

"Let me check with the Elf," you whispered with a wink. You turned toward the window and asked, "Hey, Skittles Junior? You think we can let the old man slide this year? He wasn't too bad."

But Bradley was already easing you onto your back, right next to the snag in the area rug, while you laughed. "I know for a fact you're on the nice list. You're so nice, in fact, I'll let you have one of your presents early," he murmured. You bit your lip as he started to tug your pajama pants over your hips. "This is something I definitely wouldn't be able to figure out how to wrap." He kissed below your belly button, tossing your pants on top of his hoodie. "But I know it's something you like."

The tip of his nose tickled the waistband of your underwear before he started to pull them down as well. Then he kissed his way along your thigh, mustache prickling you as you shivered, pussy completely bare for him. "Daddy," you moaned softly, fingers grabbing at the rug while he held tight to your thigh and dragged his index finger along your slit.

His face was handsome in the glow from the multi-colored lights, gaze fixed on where he was stroking you. "You're so fucking pretty like this," he grunted, collecting your slick and circling your clit until you whimpered. His lips found the inside of your knee before he set your legs gently on his shoulders. You watched as he licked his finger clean, eyes closed in pleasure. "You taste like a Princess."

"I am a Princess," you replied, eyes flicking to the collection of paper crowns which your son added to the Christmas tree. Then your eyes slid closed as Bradley's tongue traced you from hole to hole before his lips sealed around your clit with just the perfect pressure. 

"Oh, god," you whined as your fingers sunk into his thick hair. His broad shoulders kept you planted against the floor, pussy already fluttering with need as you tried to roll your hips for more.

"Just wait," he whispered, mustache dragging through your wetness. "Don't rush it."

"But it feels good," you whined loudly, tugging him by his hair. "More." 

That's when he lifted you slightly off the rug, his big hand landing on your butt, spanking you one time. You sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the sting as he kissed the inside of your thigh. "I said don't rush it. Want you to make a mess."

"Oh." He was going to make you squirt. That was the gift he was giving you. Even now, you weren't sure how he managed to make it happen every time he put his mind to it, but you weren't mad about it. You tried your best to keep your hips still as he worked you up while his hands made their way to your waist. 

He drew little circles against your skin where you were most self conscious after being pregnant with Noelle, but he never seemed to mind your stretch marks. He just kept at it, licking you up and down your slit with a steady pattern until you were starting to get loud. Then Bradley shoved two fingers inside and circled your clit with his thumb.

"Don't wake up the kids," he scolded playfully, guiding his body over yours while his hand worked at your pussy. The sounds were wet and indecent as he finger fucked you while you licked yourself from his lips and mustache. "God, you're so fucking sweet," he crooned, making you whine for him as he pulled away again.

As soon as his face was back between your legs, his lips took over for his thumb, and you knew you were close. His fingers felt thick and unrelenting, giving you the most delicious friction as he sucked on your clit. When his tongue swiped you, your back arched up from the rug, and your legs started to shake. When his fingers slowed, your vision blurred, creating a colorful mosaic from the Christmas lights as you clenched around him, your body trying to keep his fingers inside.

"Jesus," you gasped, riding his fingers, looking down at his face, lips still all over your pussy. "Daddy!"

You gushed on his face, and he moaned in pleasure, lapping up everything from your ass to your clit as you gasped and giggled, fingers pressed to your lips as you shakily rode out your orgasm.

"Merry Christmas, Princess," he crooned, teasing you with his fingers before removing them. He kissed your chin and your parted lips before letting you suck on his fingers while he sprawled out next to you. Your tongue cleaned him up, enjoying the taste of yourself on his rough hands before you rolled onto your side.

"You want me to wrap all of the extra toys you bought, don't you, Bradley?" you asked, voice shaky as he nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, I thought that was a given."

You laughed, but a few minutes later, you were once again dressed, wrapping presents until well after midnight. Bradley handed you the tape and scissors when you asked for them, and he made both of you mugs of hot cocoa when you needed a break. He told you his plans for the summer vacation to Florida, and you lined up the mound of toys for Noah and Noelle under the tree until you couldn't stop yawning.

"I don't know if I'm more tired from my orgasm or wrapping. Or both?" you asked, kissing him before standing. "But I'm going to bed."

"I'll be in after I put the mugs in the sink, Princess. I love you."

You stood and arched your back in the most alluring way before running your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead. "Don't forget to move Skittles Junior to the tree for Christmas morning."

"Right. I'll take care of it," he grunted as you walked away, Skittles Senior trailing behind on her way to her puppy bed. 

After straightening up the kitchen, Bradley took the time to clean up a few wrapping paper scraps and adjust some of the ornaments. The tree looked beautiful covered in homemade art projects you and Noah crafted together. The whole house had taken on a new life since he met you, and if you wanted to go to Disney World in the summer, he was going to make it the best trip ever.

"Get over here," he told the Elf on the Shelf, picking him up and searching for a good spot on the tree to hide him. "And I better be on the nice list tomorrow, Skittles Junior. There are a lot of things I want from my wife next year, if you catch my drift, buddy."

But Bradley took a wrong step trying to avoid the huge pile of presents that he bought. His eyes went wide as he reached for the tree, somehow managing to keep it and himself upright while the presents scattered noisily across the floor. He stood there silently, trying to regroup, but then he heard footsteps in the hallway.

"Daddy, did Santa come?"

Bradley turned in time to see Noah peek into the room, his brown eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. Then he burst into tears.

"What's wrong, Bub?" Bradley asked, scrambling around the presents to get to his son.

"You touched the Elf!" he wailed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Now Skittles Junior won't be magic anymore!"

Bradley tamped down the string of obscenities on the tip of his tongue and winced, throwing the Elf at the tree. "He's okay. See? He's in the tree now. He's just fine."

"No!" his son cried, dropping to the floor where Bradley joined him, trying to keep him quiet so he didn't wake you or Noelle. "He's not magic anymore!"

Fuck. Bradley had been setting up elaborate scenes involving the elf leaving flour footprints in the kitchen and dangling from dental floss in the bathroom for the entire month of December. He knew he wasn't allowed to get caught touching the damn thing.

"I'm pretty sure there's a way to fix his magic," he said, collecting the sobbing child against his chest.

Noah gasped for air as he said, "Someone at school told me the only way to get an elf to be magic again is if Santa sends a helper to sprinkle new magic on him. That's the only way."

Bradley tried to think of a solution to appease Noah, but he was beyond exhausted. "How about I take you back to bed, okay? Santa was clearly already here, but Mommy and Noelle are still asleep. We can open presents in a few hours-"

"No!" Noah protested, looking up at him. "I want to stay here with Skittles Junior until Santa sends a helper to give him back his magic!"

Bradley gritted his teeth. It was four in the morning. He wanted to be curled up next to your warm body in bed. He didn't know how the fuck to fix the elf as it dangled helplessly from the tree. But it was Christmas, and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his son.

"Right," Bradley agreed, scooping Noah up and settling onto the couch with him as a plan started to take shape. "How about you and I wait right here? I'm sure it won't take long."

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

When you woke up, the bed was cold. You could hear Noelle starting to fuss in her crib, so you went to her room before investigating where your husband could possibly be.

"Hey, Noelle," you whispered as she giggled and reached for you when you walked to her crib. Thankfully she was finally sleeping through the night now after getting a rough start. You kissed her forehead and changed her into a fresh diaper. "Merry Christmas," you told her, tickling her tummy, making her coo. "Let's find Noah and Daddy and make breakfast."

When you walked into the living room, you froze. The wrapped presents were all over the floor, Skittles Junior was dangling from the Christmas tree, and Bradley looked miserably tired with Noah pouting on his lap.

"What's going on?" you asked, and they both turned to look at you and Noelle.

"Daddy touched Skittles Junior, and now he's not magic anymore."

Noah's lips quivered as Bradley rolled his eyes behind him. "It was an accident," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "And Santa's helper should be here shortly to remedy things."

You looked at him like he had two heads. "What are you talking about? Santa's helper?"

"It's the only way!" Noah insisted, his little fists clenched on his lap. "It's the only way to get his magic back!"

You looked from one pair of brown eyes to the other. "I'm still confused," you whispered, but then there was a knock on the front door. "Who could that possibly be at this hour?"

Noah launched off Bradley's lap. "It has to be Santa's helper!" he exclaimed, racing for the door and opening it. You nearly choked when you saw Natasha standing there, dressed as a life-sized Elf on the Shelf with heavily rouged cheeks and her hair hidden under the pointy hat. She was also wearing oversized glasses which she pushed up her nose as Bradley stood.

"Hi! My name is Pip! I'm an elf!" she squeaked.

"Did Santa send you?" Noah asked hopefully, opening the door wider for her.

"He sure did!" she told him with a smile while you took in the events before you with Noelle in your arms. This had to be the most insane thing you'd ever witnessed as your husband's best friend walked into the living room with a canister of gold glitter in her hand.

"Did he tell you my elf lost his magic?" Noah asked, pointing at the tree.

"Oh, yes," Natasha squeaked. "He said your dad was very, very naughty." She glared at Bradley who just shook his head. "He's going directly onto the naughty list for the next decade or so. Everyone knows you aren't allowed to touch the Elf on the Shelf. Only a complete moron would-"

"Okay, Pip," Bradley barked. "Can you fix the elf or not?"

She adjusted the glasses and opened the glitter. "Of course I can. Just a little sprinkle," she said, dousing the elf and half the tree in gold dust, "and he'll be good as new."

"Yay!" Noah shouted, jumping around the room. "He's magic again! He's magic again!"

You gaped at Bradley and whispered, "Do I even want to know?"

"Absolutely not," he replied, taking Noelle and giving her a kiss while Noah plopped down to open aone of his presents like all was right in the world.

When Natasha turned to quietly sneak back out the front door, you followed her to the porch, closing the door behind you.

"What in the world is happening here? I thought you and Javy were coming over later for dinner?"

She waved her hand in the air in clear annoyance. "I don't know exactly what your husband did to fuck up enough that I got texts in the middle of the night and had to drive an hour each way to the only Walmart that opened at seven in the morning on Christmas to buy this outfit, but he owes me dearly. I'll be back at a normal hour, and you can tell him he better be ready to start kissing my ass."

The elf stormed across the yard to her SUV, tossed her hat in, and drove off. You scratched your head, still confused as you went back inside. Skittles Junior was practically dripping with gold glitter as you passed the tree to find your husband and both of your children were wearing their paper crowns.

"Mommy, put it on," Noah said, handing you the purple one as you took a seat on the area rug with them.

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek while Noelle reached for one of the wrapped gifts. "I'll explain everything later," he whispered. "The important thing is the elf is magical again, and everyone is happy."

You shook your head and pursed your lips. "Everyone except you. Ten years on the naughty list? You better hope Pip changes her mind before she gets back to the North Pole."

Bradley groaned and sprawled out on the floor while the kids opened their presents, but there was a smile on his face the whole time.

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

It feels good to check in with them! I'm so obsessed with elf Natasha, if you couldn't tell. Thanks for reading! Happy holidays! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[the-boy-meets-evil]

(not so) secret santa | jww

(where you think you're surprising your office crush and he's the one that surprises you)

pairing: wonwoo x reader genre: office!au/coworkers | straight fluff rating: e is for everyone (but this blog is still 18+) word count: ~1.8k warnings: mentions of eating/drinking? and an office holiday gift exchange, that's it

note: merry christmas @highvern! i just thought that you deserved a little treat since you worked so hard on the secret santa collab for @camandemstudios 💕 special thank you to @ugh-yoongi for the office crush concept and the recipe idea. also thank you to @gyuswhore for some brainstorming. i tried to keep to the collab guidelines but it's fine because it's not technically part of it. love you cam!

“Hao I need your help,” you say quietly to your work bestie. 

Despite the hush of your voice, it seems to carry more than it should. Or maybe that’s just your nerves over what you’re about to ask. Minghao turns away from what he’s working on and raises one of his perfectly manicured eyebrows at you. He’s really got that down and you hate him a little for it.

“What could you possibly need now?” he asks with a sigh.

“It’s about the office gift swap,” you say, quieter still this time. 

“Need a little pointer? Maybe some fashion advice?” he asks sympathetically and you swat at him. That makes him crack a smile where nothing else has.

“No, I need to trade,” you say.

This happens every year in the office. The picks are random and nobody is supposed to know. But, inevitably, several people end up swapping for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they’re looking for a specific person. Sometimes they have a present in mind and their current person won’t like it. It could be anything. This year, you’re the one that’s looking to swap and you’re kind of hoping your bestie won’t ask you exactly why. 

“Who do you have?” he asks, which is a little surprising that he’s not asking who you want. 

“Mina,” you say immediately. He might be a complete pain in the ass, but you know that you can trust him. Nobody knows more about what’s going on in the office than him and nobody keeps their mouth shut tighter. 

Without another word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that you recognize as the slips for the gift swap. One hand holds the paper out to you while the other opens for you to deposit your own paper in it. You’re just confused looking at him because you haven’t said anything other than who you have.

“I don’t think you get it, I want…” you start and he cuts you out.

“Just take the paper and then see if you still need to say anything to me,” he says.

It’s unusual, even for him, yet you do as he says. You deposit the slip with Mina’s name on it into his hand and take his piece of paper. When you open it, somehow everything makes more sense. Kind of, at least. It’s the person you were actually hoping to get. 

“How did you…” you ask, trailing off at the end.

“You’re not that subtle,” he says with his own version of an affectionate smile. 

“Thanks, Hao. I owe you!” you say in a low voice.

“I’ll add it to your tab,” he says and turns back to his work.

The best part about the gift swap at your work is that it’s up to each person how they handle giving their gift. There’s no big party where everyone has to swap in front of everyone else. It’s a little non-traditional, but also helpful for people that are a little more introverted. Some people expressed it being easier to just leave the person’s gift at their desk instead of going through some whole big thing. 

That suits you just fine. It gives you the opportunity to plan something a little more personal to exchange your gift. Which is how you end up at lunch on a day off with one of your coworkers and feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. You try to tell yourself that you’re confident and he is just a man. But, you also have the fattest crush on him and it makes you a little stupid. (A lot stupid, actually, but that’s your own business.) 

Wonwoo comes walking in looking the coziest you’ve ever seen him. It makes you very glad that you got to the restaurant first because this is worth it. The smile on his face when he notices you is soft and it makes your heart skip a beat. He pushes up his glasses and shakes some snowflakes out of his hair. By the time he’s at the table, he’s removing his jacket to reveal a soft sweater. You take a minute to remind yourself that he’s just a man before putting the smile on your face. What’s even better, you don’t say anything stupid.

He lets you make it through ordering before he brings up the obvious. “I’m happy you asked me to lunch, but I was a bit surprised.” 

You try to play it off and shrug a bit. “We haven’t gone out to lunch in a while like this and sometimes it feels like we have to rush during work. I just figured…” 

“Why not ask me out to lunch to give me my Secret Santa gift?” he asks knowingly. You, being the coolest person in the world, choke on the sip of your drink that you take.

“What?”

“I was sure that Minghao had me because he was asking questions about gaming stuff and then Mina told me about the beautiful scarf that he got her.”

“And that means you think that I have you?” You’re not really sure you follow his logic even if he is right.

Wonwoo only shrugs. “He’s your best friend. I thought he was asking for you. Or maybe he had me and trade.” 

“He did have you, but I wanted to switch,” you admit for some reason completely unknown to you. 

“You did?” This seems to catch him off guard considering he seems two steps ahead.

Since he wants to bring it up now, you figure that you might as well give him his present. You pull the box out of your bag and hand it over to him. He eyes it for a second before reaching out to take it. His face looks adorably perplexed when he lifts it.

“This doesn’t feel like something gaming related,” he says finally.

You huff out with an eye roll. “Why don’t you just open it?” 

He looks amused at your tone and goes to work at opening the paper. He takes a very different approach to you and unwraps it gently instead of pulling it all off. But then, his eyes go a little wide at the gift. It’s hard to read, at least for a moment. Does he like it? Did you do too much? Are you being too obvious?

“How did you…?” His eyes are filled with affection. Like nobody has ever given him something like this and it catches you off guard. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, a little unsure. Mostly just to fill the space.

“I love it. How did you find it?” he asks. 

“I love fragrances and there are a few small shops that I go to. It’s kind of a hassle because you have to search through the shops, but that’s fun for me. I overheard you telling Hao that you couldn’t find this one anywhere,” you say like it’s nothing. 

“And then you traded to get me just to give it to me?” he asks. 

“I just thought…” you start and he shakes his head. “Actually, hang on a second. I have to run out to my car and I’ll be right back,” he says.

Wonwoo is up from the table before you can even react to what he’s saying. Even though you know this is just how his brain works, it takes a second for your heart to catch up with that knowledge. It still feels weird to be sitting there by yourself when the server comes back with food, though. When he turns back up, his cheeks are a little rosy from the trip outside and you can’t miss that he’s holding a larger box. 

“I’m sorry to run out. I just didn’t want to bring this in if it was really just a lunch,” he says and that doesn’t really explain anything.

“Did you get me in for the gift exchange too?” you ask, confused. 

For the first time, he looks a little shy. He looks down for a second like he’s preparing himself. “No, I just really wanted to get you a present. Open it, please.” 

You’re skeptical because it’s kind of big and clunky. And, on top of that, you’re confused about why he felt like he should get you a present when you’re not really that close. Or not as close as you’d like to be. When you tear off the wrapping paper, your first reaction is to laugh. There’s a cute little popcorn maker with a container of kernels along with it. But what really catches your eye is the seemingly homemade mustard to go along with it. It probably looks like the weirdest gift to anyone else. To you, though, it’s perfect. 

“How on Earth did you come up with this?” you ask through a laugh.

“You hate it,” he says looking a little dejected. 

“No, no, no,” you assure him and calm back down. “No, it’s perfect. But, I’ve had people give me such a hard time about popcorn dipped in mustard so I can’t imagine you just thought of it.”

“I actually talked to Minghao about what you might like,” he says sheepishly and your eyes go wide. 

Leave it to your traitorous bestie to know that your crush had something like this planned and not even tell you. Of course he’s just sitting there like a little matchmaker. “That little shit. When did you ask him?”

“Before we picked people for the gift swap. I didn’t even think of trying to switch for you,” he says. “It seemed like a good way to say that I kind of like you, especially since you traded to get me.” 

There’s something so matter-of-fact about the way he says it. Like it’s just another thing to say. The weather has been really cold. The food is amazing. Work is a pain. Oh, and by the way, I like you. Wait a minute. Your brain finally catches up to what Wonwoo said. It must be clear on your face, too, because he looks amused. 

“Did you say you kind of like me?” you ask and that actually makes him laugh. 

“Why else would I get a recipe for homemade mustard from Minghao just to surprise you for Christmas?” he asks like that should all be obvious.

“You made it yourself?”

“I had a little bit of help from my roommate because he’s much better in the kitchen, but it’s still homemade,” he says. 

“I cannot believe Hao set this all up. You’re over here planning a whole ass present for me and Minghao is letting me stress over whether or not you’re going to like the present I got. And making fun of me for having a crush while you’re over here making me mustard from scratch.”

“Is that really how you’re going to tell me that you like me too?” he asks, impossibly amused by your grumbling. 

“Can we have a do over?” you ask and he smiles at you.

“As many as you want.” 

i hope you like it and that you're surprised!

[quarterlifekitty]

Desperate times

A sequel to this post and poll. Started feeling a little jigsaw-y…. Decided that I wanted to continue this post— what would it be like if their methods didn’t work? If they had to up the ante?

The top two winners of the poll won’t have to find out, because they’re getting you back! The rest? Well…

cw: dubcon/noncon, stalking, unhealthy relationships, somno, daddy kink stuff, intox, violence, baby trapping, and more stuff I don’t really know how to describe lol

❌Gaz is making a spectacle. Formulating the ultimate romantic gesture— a in a public place. He’s used your family and friends to lure you there on their invitation. Can’t you see how all of them want you to take him back? Look at him, on his knee in the middle of the botanical garden, promising to be better for you if you’ll just give him another chance. They’re all waiting on your response. Come on, luv, just give them what they want.

❌Soap is moving onto step 2, and that’s getting you drunk. Not so hard when you and your friends go to an upscale bar. He conveniently runs quite late meeting the 141 there, so to you and your friends, there’s just a handsome group of strangers sending some pretty girls free drinks. And everyone knows the girly drinks have the highest percentages. The rest of the gang will pick off your friends (payment for doing him this favor) and he’ll be ready to swoop in and take you home. Aren’t you lucky he was there? Just let him get you into bed. Ach, he really shouldn’t leave you alone in this state… best stay the night. A bit of advice? Don’t squirm when he gets to work— reminding you of the good times.

❌Ghost keeps it going strong with the scary voicemails. And they keep getting worse. The grunting, and threats, the desperation coating his voice. Not nice to keep your man waiting, birdie. They’re followed by photos. Printed out physically, slipped in your mail slot or under your door, bare. No envelope, no address or signature. All dated with black sharpie, all recent. You looking both ways, getting ready to cross the street. Changing out of your work clothes when you get home. His gloved thumb gently brushing your lip while you’re sleeping. His cum on your toothbrush. That one is dated as two weeks old. Just let him back into your life, birdie.

⭕️ Price feels his heart sing when he sees your name on the caller id. He gives the perfect, respectful response. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright? When he agrees to meet up with you, he doesn’t let it show how eagerly he’s been waiting for the chance. Tells you that you look good. Life must’ve been treating you well since he last saw you. He seems so genuinely pleased for you… He almost lets his calculated restraint slip when you say you’d like to give things another go. Asks if you’re sure. If he were being honest, in his eyes, things never ended. This was just a rough patch. But he’s glad you’ve come around to seeing it his way. He’ll have you moved back in by the end of the month, swollen with his kid by the end of the next. It’ll weigh you down, make it easier for him to slip the ring on.

⭕️ Honest to god, König sees the halo glow behind your crown when you meet up with him, and agree to a second chance. He promises that he’ll be better— you won’t want for anything, he’ll be so good for you. He’s acting like you’ve agreed to marry him. Maybe because in his mind, you have. That’s inevitable, seeing as he’s never going to lose you again.

❌ Nikolai starts getting a lot less… clean with your potential paramours. Gone are the bribes, the simple threats and ghosting— in are the bloody heaps of men that are just alive enough to twitch. This could all stop. Just be his good girl again, come back to your ivory tower. Papochka won’t be upset, he’ll just be glad to have you home. His patience for you is endless, but for the rest of the world? Well, do you really want to find out?

[littlemissaddict]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Nurse!Reader

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄 had this stuck in my head for a little while and it's took even longer to write. Slightly jealous ghost if you squint.

All the nurses knew as soon as they saw Ghost enter the Medics station on base that there was only one nurse he'd see. Some of the long term staff who treated his injuries before she'd arrived on base were thankful they didn't have to work through the glowering stare, the gruff grunts and all-around hardship he'd made there job of tending to him. In fact it was a hardship in itself just convincing him to see a base nurse.

With her though he was different, he sat willing while she tended to his wounds and they've even seen him sit for an hour after arriving back from one deployment so that she was the one to see to him despite other nurses being free.

No one knew why he favoured her and if anyone asked him he would never admit the real reason he took a liking to her was because she snapped at him on their first meeting. He was so used to the other nurses tip toeing around his large form and intimidating presence but she was different, becoming annoyed with his constant squirming as she tried to stitch the cut along his shoulder, that she didn't ever care to ask how he'd gotten.

"Stop moving so I can finish this and get you out of my sight"

If anyone else had said it, he'd have had something to say about it but with her stood there, tiny form next to him with teeth gritted and eyebrows set into a deep frown then he knew that she was different to the other nurses and that he liked. Hence the reason she'd become the only one he'd see.

Since that first meeting though he'd become a lot easier to handle and she hadn't had to snap at him anymore. In fact there was a little more joking around between the two of them.

"You're hurt, why are you always hurt?" She fussed coming back to her station to find him sat on the bed.

"S'my job" he grumbles, surrendering to her soft touch as she inspects his arm.

With a sigh, she turns her head to look up at him, "If it was your job, then wouldn't I see the rest of your unit just as much as I see you?" She phrases it as a question but they both know it doesn't require an answer. "Hell I don't even seen Johnny as much as I see you" She adds, as Johnny maybe a soldier but he's a clumsy fucker sometimes.

At the mention of Johnny's name, Simon tenses, he's a little hurt even though he knows he shouldn't be, but she's never once called him Simon. It's always Ghost or Lt. Yet she's casually dropping Johnny's name as though she always calls him that instead of Soap or sergeant.

She mistakes his tensing for pain in his arm instead of what it is and she let's go of him as he grumbles out, "Simon"

"Sorry?" She replies not sure if she'd quite heard what he said correctly.

"Call me Simon" his voice is as gruff as usual but she could be mistaken when she hears the hint of pleading in his tone.

"Okay but you gotta do one thing for me in return" she's teasing, she'll call him Simon if that's what he wants regardless, but this constantly getting hurt has to stop so maybe she's going to abuse the power she has over him in this moment but it's with his best interest at heart. Simon nods once, slowly before she continues, "You have to stop being so reckless, I know you have a dangerous job, but at least try not to get injured"

Simon sits and stares at her for a minute or so as if considering her words, he is really because not getting injured means he can't come down to medical and that means he won't get to see her as often but getting to hear her call his name is the desire that's currently outweighing everything else. "Fine" he huffs as if she's asking the hardest thing in the world from him.

"Good, now, let's get this arm sorted." She smiles, turning away from him to gather the equipment she needs. It takes her practiced hands barely anytime at all to complete the task at hand and Simon almost resents her for how quickly she works as now he has to leave her.

He thanks her with a grunt as he stands from the medical bed but she stops him before he leaves, "Simon" his name finally drips from her lips like honey and he's putty in her hands, he's very thankful for the mask right now so that she can't see the colour spreading across his cheeks. "You know you don't have to get hurt to come see me, I do enjoy your company" she reveals and he nods, unable to speak.

Oh but when he thinks about it later on when he's alone in his bunk, he realises she doesn't know what she's let herself in for as he plans to be by her side whenever he gets any free time on base.

[vhswolf]

McLaren Christmas Dinner | Landoscar x Reader

Warnings: none I think, just a jealous Oscar wanting to go home

It's time for the big McLaren dinner party, the dinner I thought I wasn't going to participate in. I've been dating Lando and Oscar for a couple of months now, it was something that was difficult to know if it was going to be a great idea or an awful one, none of us had done this before, dating one person is hard to imagine two and imagine one of them being your teammate. Even everything being a recipe for disaster, we made it work. But the idea of going to a full on McLaren celebration was off my mind until Lando said we need to have a meeting (a stupid way we had to say that we needed to talk).

"I'm the bringer... bringer? I bring an idea for you two."

"We're listening." I said, cuddling up on Oscar's arm as Lando stood in front of us with a big smile on his face.

"Since we can bring a plus one to the McLaren dinner, what about we bring our girl?" Lando said like it was an obvious idea.

"I agree." Oscar said.

"Agree? Boys, are you guys thinking? That's a bad idea." I said sitting up.

"Why?"

"Because people will want to know who I'm, and you're going to say what? Our girlfriend? I don't think PR would approve of me being girlfriend of one of you."

"We can say you're our mutual friend." Osc said.

"Handsy like the two of you are? I don't see this working."

"You're overthinking it, babe." Lando sat by my side. "First of all, we can keep our hands to ourselves if needed and nobody will be there to out us, because if they do, they lose their job."

"And, they wouldn't believe we got luck enough to date you." Osc said, and Lan nodded.

"Yes, Osc is right and to be honest they think Osc is too boring to even try anything like this."

"I'm listening, Lando."

"I'm not saying it, McLaren people are, and come on, you look like a church boy, Oscar." Oscar rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Whatever, they won't figure anything, love, we promise you."

"This is risky as fuck."

"We just want to show up our girl a little bit, can you please go?"

"I'll go, but if anything happens, you both are the ones going to the PR meetings, not me."

"Deal." They both said together.

I got a gala worth dress, it was one of the Clio Peppiatt ones, and I asked for them to personalize it with a little McLaren logo in papaya, it was so beautiful, popping out in the middle of the whole black and silver dress. Both of my boys in black suits, Oscar with a traditional tie in dark dark midnight blue, and Lan with a black bow tie, both looking like a Disney prince. The two drivers were stopping at every step talking to everyone, I was a bit behind, not wanting to be seen by anyone, but it didn't work for long.

"This is (Y/n)." I heard my name as I was looking around, completely lost in my own thoughts. I looked at them and saw Zak Brown looking at me, so I smiled.

"Hi."

"Hello, nice to meet you." He looked at both boys and back at me. "So, you're friends with my drivers? How come I never saw you?"

"I was never invited to the paddock." I joked and Lando looked at me shocked.

"What? That's not fair!"

"Not a lie, though."

"You two need to learn how to treat a pretty girl, that's why you guys don't have a girlfriend." He shook his head and I chuckled. "You will be very welcome anytime."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, and you two, invite the girl, c'mon."

"We will." Oscar said, looking at me, then Zak walked away. "We never invited you?" Oscar asked and I laughed.

"Sorry, what I was supposed to say? That I didn't want to go?"

"Now you're going, I don't care what you say." Oscar said in a low voice before walking away.

"Uhh, Osc is mad, you're fucked." Lando whispered in my ear.

"Osc!" I called, walking a bit faster to get to him. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not." He is.

"I'm sorry, baby." I whispered in his ear and he looked at me, but didn't say anything. He walked to the bar and Lando put his hand on my shoulder.

"Didn't work, did it?"

"Nope, can you talk to him?"

"I can try, but I won't be getting punished because of you." He said walking to where Oscar was.

"Hello." I hear a voice behind me, when I turned I saw Pato O'ward with a big smile on his face. "I'm Patricio O'ward, but you can call me Pato, nice to meet you."

"Hi, I'm (Y/n), nice to meet you too, Pato." I smiled.

"I never saw you around, I'm wrong?"

"You're not, I'm Lando and Oscar's friend." He nodded.

"I love your dress, you look good in McLaren." He joked.

"Thank you, maybe I'll use more McLaren." He nodded.

"You should." His flirty aura is bigger than Lando's and I thought this was impossible. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you..." Before he finished his question, I felt a hand on my waist, and then another one.

"Hey, Pato!" Lando said smiling. "Everything OK?" Pato nodded.

"Yes, I was just saying her dress is gorgeous."

"I agree." Oscar said, squeezing my waist even more.

"That was all, see you guys around." Pato said and walked away.

"Pato, really?" Oscar said through clenched teeth.

"I was just being nice." I turned to look at them and get away from the touches on my waist. Both men had a drink in their hand, Lando was more in a happy mood than Oscar.

"He wanted to fuck you, you don't need to be nice in this case."

"Osc, it is not like I was going to give him my number or anything."

"Is kinda funny, Osc, did you see his face?" Osc bit the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his smile.

"That was nice, but still, no more talking with that womanizer."

"You say it like your boyfriend isn't a womanizer too."

"Former womanizer! Now I'm a family man." Lando said, crossing his arms. Oscar chuckled and shook his head.

"I can't be mad at you for long, can I?" He ran his fingers through my hair and sighed. "I love you."

"Love you too, baby."

"Too much for pretending to be besties?" Lando said looking at the scene. Oscar rolled his eyes and pulled away.

"I want to go home."

"After dinner." Lando said, hugging Oscar shoulders. Osc nodded, and we started to walk off, but not before listening to a person behind us commenting.

"Does Oscar know Lando wants to fuck his girlfriend?" We looked at each other and laughed.

[pickinglilahs]

Okay, let's unpack this response here

TL;DR: 'weak and surface' level is exactly how I would describe prevs "obliteration". I'm not convinced THEY read the books. Or maybe they're just another TERF, considering that's how it reads. I completely disagree with Harry naming his kid after Snape. The ONLY explanation I can think for it is that JKR has no idea what love is (which is also cannon, as far as I'm concerned)

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

Lastly: yes, comparing CHILDREN who DID see the error of their ways to an ADULT who had to be CONNED into doing the right thing is laughable.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[leeknow-thoughts]

𝅄  ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

[ssloveslogan]

❆ christmas treat ❆

warnings: MDNI, reader x logan, i feel like i should mention there’s a bit of father/daughter cuteness with logan and rogue (i can’t help myself i miss them), porn with tiniest amount of plot, p in v, panties stay on, unprotected sex

- christmas themed fic obvs! merry christmas guys hope you all got what u wanted under the tree (tearing up because hugh jackman wasn’t there BUT i did get a cutout, calendar and shirt of him😝)

the x-men mansion was buzzing with holiday cheer, a welcoming warmth against the outside bitterness. today is christmas, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter, music and the smell of baked goods wafted through the halls. later tonight, everyone would do their secret santa exchange and you, like everybody else, had been eagerly waiting for the moment when you could finally stop waiting and could open your gift.

but, the one thing you were even more excited about, was the look on logan’s face when he sees what you had gotten him. somehow, you had drawn out your boyfriend’s name from the hat this year and, god, was it hard to find something for him. your struggle to find something for him was quickly overcome with a brilliantly personal idea.

so, here you are, on your bed, placing logan’s favourite blue lacey panties of yours and a polaroid picture in a small rectangular box wrapped in festive paper and tied with a shiny blue ribbon. the polaroid picture in question was a filthy picture of you from a couple days before, spread out with your cunt on full display, post-orgasm, cheeks flushed and arousal soaking your pussy. you just couldn’t help yourself, what else were you meant to do when you were horny as fuck and logan was on a mission?

your train of thought was soon disturbed by the opening of your door and in came logan. you were quick to hide the gift under the bed and you gave him a smile, in attempt to make it look like you weren’t just wrapping his secret santa gift up.

“what’s got you all smiley?” logan chuckled and raised an eyebrow when seeing your grin wide on your face.

“oh, nothing, don’t worry about it lo,” you giggled, biting your lip to stop you from giving yourself away. “soo, did you get your person their secret santa gift?” you asked, wondering if he even bothered this year.

“yeah, i did. i got rogue this year so i figured i’d get her something. got her some makeup and chocolate” he spoke grumpily as if he was buying her stuff against his own free will.

“that’s really sweet of you, lo! surprised u even did it this year” you tease him and he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he huffs out but you notice him trying to hold back his smile. “anyways, who’d you get? or are you still not gonna tell me?” he question with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“that defeats the whole purpose of secret santa y’know that, baby? you will find out soon, you desperate man” you smirk and play nudge his stomach as he scoffs and tries to act annoyed but his walls tumble down at the noise of your laughter and his heart warms.

“we should get going now, right lo? can’t have you waiting to find out who’s name i pulled out any longer” you giggle and logan groans.

you begin to get up and put your shoes on as you realise you probably should be going downstairs to gather up for the gift exchange, seeing as you are already late. you grab your gift and hide it in a bag and then you wait for logan to put on his leather jacket and take his gift too. once you’re both ready, you give him a quick peck on the lips and intertwine both yours and logan’s hands together. you smirked to yourself, knowing of what’s to come.

the both of you swiftly make your way to to the christmas tree where all the adults and some of the older kids were gathered around. christmas lights twinkled around the room, stockings - with everyone’s name sown on it- were hung by the grand fireplace and chatter filled the space up with a cozy ambience.

“i’ll be back” you say to logan, letting go of him and walking off towards the tree to place your gift for him under it, before he could grumble about being alone. oh how you can’t wait for the gift exchange, your patience is going down by the second.

your eyes wander around the room before they land on storm and jean and you smile, making your way towards them.

“look who finally decided to join us!” storm teases while embracing you in a friendly hug.

“i’m surprised logan even came for it this year, normally the guy just stays outside while smoking his beloved cigars” jean snickers and makes all three of you fall into a fit of giggles. “hey, who’d you get for the secret santa?” jean questions while sipping on her drink.

you smirk at them and a little giggle comes out “i got logan” you say, biting your lip to stop your laughter from erupting even more.

“girls! come on, we’re opening the secret santa gifts!” scott shouts out before you guys could say anything else about the topic at hand, and you three step towards the christmas tree and huddle together.

you sit on the couch alongside your girl friends, surrounded by the glow of the massive christmas tree. the sound of laughter and the occasional tearing of wrapping paper filled the air as people opened their gifts one by one. you turn around and notice logan, leaning against a wall, nursing a bottle of beer. his gaze was already on you and you smile, winking at him.

it’s rogue’s turn to open her gift and she absolutely loves it. even though logan doesn’t give up his identity as the mystery giver of said gift, you notice him smiling to himself - proud of what he had gotten her.

soon enough, everyone had opened their gifts - you had gotten a gorgeous silver necklace from kitty with a heart pendant in the middle. well, everyone but one final person, logan howlett.

“alright, logan, you’re up!” rogue beams, signalling for him to come over and open it with everyone. he grumbles yet he still makes his way over, curiosity getting the better of him. he leans over to grab the perfectly wrapped gift with his name written on it and stands back, closer to the wall, while gently untying the delicate ribbon.

your legs bounce in newfound nervousness, what if people saw? you clearly didn’t think it through very well but you pray to yourself that he doesn’t take it out of the box. you watch his every move, waiting for him to finally peek inside the box, the one-sided tension growing in your body.

logan slowly takes the lid off of the box and he tenses, stopping himself, making sure not to take the contents of the gift out for everyone to see. his pupils dilate at the polaroid of you, tongue sticking out, eyes rolled to the back of your pretty head and your swollen pussy all on show with your glistening juices dripping down your cunt. underneath the polaroid he saw the perfect blue panties he’s had to repurchase you dozens of times from the amount of times he’s ripped them off of you.

“s-shit..” he murmurs to himself, feeling the tent in his jeans grow. the room was trying to figure out what was even inside the box and why he seemed so off. you, on the other hand, smirked to yourself as you felt a sense of victory at the reaction you got out of him.

logan quickly closed the box and glanced up at you with darkened eyes, his face radiating off want and desire and you simply smirked at him, winking, as you felt yourself dampening on the spot from his intense gaze, ignoring the way he made your tummy flip.

“sooo, what’d you get?” rogue said to cut the uncomfortable tension everyone else sensed in the room.

“nothing” logan’s voice dropped an octave as his eyes remained on you the whole time. you shuffled, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

everyone knew they weren’t getting an answer from logan, so they dropped it at that, continuing their conversations and acting as if nothing had even happened. you also tried to pretend like it was just a normal christmas day, but you saw logan, his gift still in his hand, and he was striding towards you.

your heart rate fluttered when he briefly stopped infront of you - breathing heavily, knuckles white from the grip on the gift and his nostrils flaring in need.

“o-oh! hey, baby! wha-” your stuttered out sentence was swiftly cut off by logan picking you up by the waist with one arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

“logan! logan, put me down!” you shout, bashing your fragile hands on his stone hard back.

you continued with your pleads and apologies in attempt to get him to put you down, but the rush of arousal hit you hard, the possessive act sent floods of heat through your veins. your own body betrayed you as you feel yourself dampen even more and your nipples were slowly hardening.

logan pays no mind to your lousy attempts and he makes his way to your shared room, slamming then locking the door behind him. he tosses you and the gift onto the bed, following you down with his own weight. he leans in close, his face hovering just inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your lips. you can see the raw desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are blown wide with lust. you can see his hunger for you written all over his face. without warning, his crashes his lips against yours in a searing, passionate kiss. it’s not gentle or sweet; it’s a kiss born out of desperation, need and untamed thirst. you pull away breathless, and begin to speak.

“lo? you okay baby?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes but all confidence is lost when you see his face not even twitching to smile. you rake your hands through his hair and he leans into your neck to bite into the supple skin, making you gasp and tilt your head back to give him more access. his tongue laps to gently suck over the mark to soothe the sting as he continues to litter your neck with kisses and purple bruises.

“l-logan..” you whine, exhaling sharply as you feel tears pooling in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations on your neck. after what feels like forever, logan pulls away to admire his work and he reaches for the gift box, opening it to pull out the familiar lacy blue panties he adores.

“need to fuck you with these on you” he rasps, slowly stripping you of your clothes until you’re bare for him, exposed and defenceless.

“christ, you’re just soaking for me darlin’, arent you? filthy fuckin’ girl, you get off on me carrying you around, baby? you like knowing i can pick you up whenever i want?” he smirks, seeing your cheeks flush pink while you nod weakly at him.

“don’t worry doll, i’ll help you out.” he grunts, tapping your hip signalling for you to lift them as he makes you wear nothing but the panties.

“perfect, you look perfect like this, baby. you wanted this, hm? wanted my attention with the gift? you got it now, i’ve got you.” logan says while quickly unfastening his belt and getting rid of his jeans and boxers. his tip was leaking with beads of pre-cum, his tip swollen and red, and he gently pulls your panties to the side and places himself in his spot between your thighs.

“p-please lo, want you to fuck me” you whine, your neediness displaying as he teases you by rubbing himself on your weeping folds.

he wanted to watch you squirm just for a little while longer, but his little self restraint disappeared when hearing your sweet voice begging for him. he lines himself up at your pulsing hole and before you could say anything more about needing him, he plunges deep into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you both let out a deep moan. he begins to move slowly, pulling out before slamming back in, pounding into you mercilessly.

“love this pussy, always so fuckin’ tight for me” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he continued thrusting into your wet heat, vigorously.

his words only fueled the fire burning inside of you and your walls clench around him tightly. “harder, please logan, i want you to fuck me harder” you begged, voice strained with pleasure.

“you want it harder, baby?” he smirks darkly before slamming into you with renewed intensity. “like this, baby?” he asks as his hands make their way to your hips, pushing you down even deeper onto him.

“j-just like that lo, so fucking good b-baby.” you moan loudly, tears prickling at your eyes from the profound pleasure-pain.

the bed creaks with every thrust while the bed frame hits the wall, creating a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. “making such a mess on my cock. ‘m gonna fucking ruin this pussy, doll” he groans, while reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit.

as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, you can feel every ridge and vein of his thick member stretching your inner walls. you clench around him, the knot in your belly tightening, making him groan and shudder above you.

“i’m gonna come lo, so close” you whimper out as he continues to drill into you, his cock dragging deliciously against your sweet spot with each stroke as he drives you closer to the edge.

“i know, baby, that’s it. be a good girl for me and come on my cock, doll” logan grunts into your ear as you scrape your nails down his back, leaving marks which are quickly healed again. you throw your head back and arch into him as you convulse and spasm around his length, your orgasm crashing over you, making him groan in pleasure while you moan into his shoulder and dig your nails deeper into his back.

he works you through your orgasm as his thrusts become desperate, his own release stirring inside of him. with one final and brutal thrust, logan buries himself deep inside of you and he holds still. his cock throbs and pulses as he releases his hot seed into you.

“s-shit, so good for me..” logan grunts, his face contorting with pleasure and his chest heaving erratically. he pulls out with a wince as he lays next to you on his back. you move to lean onto his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. logan’s arm tightens around you as he leans in to kiss your head while gently stroking your hair.

“i guess you liked your gift then?” you giggle and look up at him with your fucked out smile, already knowing his very obvious answer.

logan chuckles and glances down at you, admiring your post-orgasm beauty. “loved it, baby. might have to somehow make you get me again next year.” he grins while tracing patterns on your arm.

you giggle and move upwards, your noses brushing against each other, lips barely an inch apart. “merry christmas, logan” you whisper, leaning your forehead to press against his.

“merry christmas, darling” he whispers back, smiling softly at you before closing the distance between you both to share a soft and sweet kiss.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

❆ i rushed this so badly and didn’t proofread it so i’m sorry if some bits don’t make sense and wrongly punctuated guys!! but also i’ve been so busy this past week i literally am surviving off of what feels like zero sleep at all. hope u did enjoy this tho we all need some christmas logan content.

[melded-galaxy]

sonic movie 3 stobotnik thoughts:

Watched the third installment earlier today and have a lot of thoughts

Likes:

Stone being confirmed as the protector in their relationship (His action scene in the chao garden restaurant and his plea 'i'm not there to protect you!') was amazing, you can definitely tell Stone had been traumatized after Robotnik got stranded in the mushroom world and then returned only to nearly fall to his death

'I already lost you once-!' 'Unsubscribed blocked and reported.' 'I can't lose you again...' Stone you deserve the world and so much better than Robotnik i'm sorry your hearts deadset on this dickhead <3

Robotnik's first name Ivo being dropped several times and pronounced eye-vo rather than ee-vo. always preferred the eye-vo pronounciation personally, feel like ee-vo is a bit too on the nose and doesn't sound as good.

Robotnik being open enough around Stone at the very start of the movie that he casually mentions that Stone is the only person he trusts and at the very end after he thought he found loving family only to be rejected and betrayed by Gerald admitting Stone was the only one to ever truly care about him my heart can't

More of the weird kinky BDSM shit my beloved - Eggman's reaction to seeing a shirtless tied up Stone 'Do that in your own time you sicken me' sent me as did the frigging shirt snatch and of course that glorious haircut scene

Stone getting to interact with characters that aren't Eggman. Him calling Tails adorable and that short moment where he hung out with Shadow was nice to see.

Again the haircut scene. Stone had zero excuses for straddling his bosses lap and nearly strangling him in a chokehold. Firestarter by Prodigy playing was just the cherry on top.

Stone getting cucked again by Robotnik's own grandpapa. First knuckles now sour gramps smh there's always a damn third wheel

Robotnik finally finding family and just CLINGING to them (quite literally the boot kissing scene was... something.) Ivo was so desperate for Gerald's love and approval, its such a great parallel to Stone's admiration for Robotnik. Honestly it makes sense that Robotnik immediately reacted so defensively when Stone warned him of Gerald and Shadows hidden plan, like Robotnik immediately reacted by attacking Stone back by accusing him of just being jealous because he felt his bond with gerald was being threatened. Robotnik even looked over at Gerald several times while he was chewing Stone out, clearly seeking his approval.

Eggman's announcement dedicated fully to Stone after three whole movies of Robotnik taking Stone for granted and Stone being ditched berated and sidelined. Finally after feeling the pain of Gerald's rejection (that 'You're no Maria' was ice cold) Ivo in his last moments alive makes sure Stone knows he reciprocates and pays tribute to Stone's love and loyalty to him, admitting that Stone was more than just a sycophant, a tool to be used and discarded, Stone was a 'syco-friend'. my HEART

That final 'I love the way you make 'em' the delivery was so heartfelt

Stone's tearful smile after saying goodbye to Robotnik. There's a sort of sad acceptance to it like finally hearing Robotnik admit that he does care about him too softens the blow of losing him and will help Stone to move on post movie. Maybe Stone after Robotnik's death with find someone that truly treats him right. A lot of people speculate that Stone will be the big bad of the next film but I don't know, I think in an interview by Lee he said that Stone just wanted to feel acknowledged by Robotnik and in the end Stone finally got that. I feel like its a good bookend for both Robotnik and Stone's characters arcs and i'd have mixed feelings if they were confirmed to appear in the next movie; while i'd love to see more of Robotnik and Stone's twisted dynamic in the next movie, I feel like it'd sort of undermine Robotnik's final moment of humanity at the end of movie 3. Then again someone has to have made and been controlling the metal sonics we saw in the post credit scene so who knows what the next movie will bring.

Dislikes:

Stone only getting like 6-7 minutes of screen time, I would have like a few more scenes with him interacting with Robotnik Gerald and other characters to flesh him out a bit more, maybe even learn more of his backstory. I felt like this was also a problem with Maria and Gerald; both needed a bit more time to flesh out their characters. It would have been cool to see more of Gerald and Maria before Maria's death for instance.

The movie steering away from the romantic subtext that was present in the second movie (the lattes with hearts, the romantic music playing in Stone's cafe and Stone photoshopping his boss into a maid outfit) in favour of a more platonic or atleast debatable dynamic between them - Stone being sad about not being Robotnik's 'best friend', Robotnik calling Stone his syco-friend and no outright explicit confirmation from either of them was kind of sad to see. Felt like there was potential to openly confirm stobotnik in a romantic if twisted relationship, especially given the two lived together for over a year in their crab mech and were clearly comfortable around eachother, but I guess maybe the producers were too nervous of backlash to do so so they went with a more dubious/platonic angle.

Robotnik immediately treating Stone worse once he connects with Gerald :( I suppose it makes sense; Ivo now has this shiny new family connection,from his selfish perspective why would he need boring old but reliable Stone but it still was sad to see Robotnik completely disregard everything Stone had done for him - staying by his side after leaving the government, doting on him and rescuing/caring for Robotnik after the latter fell from the giant mech in the second movie (not shown in the movie only storyboards but still presumably Stone was the one to rescue Robotnik). Personally i'd have preferred it if there was a bit more conflict from Robotnik's side, maybe have Gerald manipulate him into steadily distructing Stone more and more as the movie went on.

Stone not getting a scene where he snaps at Robotnik/shows a backbone. Yes he tried to to warn Robotnik of Gerald and Shadow's real plans for the world but again that was mostly for Robotnik's own wellbeing. Stone was terrified of losing him. It would have been nice to see after 3 movies of Stone being a doormat for Robotnik Stone finally erupt and stand up to Ivo.

Stone disappearing from the plot at the climax of the film AGAIN, a reoccuring theme in the trilogy lol, Stone disappears from the plot after Robotnik tells him to ready the prototype in the first movie and again in the second, though to a lesser extent, after he was knocked out in the mech. It would have been cool to see him do a little more, maybe aid Robotnik Tails and Knuckles in stopping Gerald in some way instead of merely being a bystander.

Similarly to the second movie I feel like Jimbotnik and now Gerald were a bit TOO zany at times. Like the scene at their first meeting when they both looked at the camera and broke the fourth wall made me groan and god... the Ivo vs Gerald fight was... bad and not even in a so bad its good way way more a killing the pacing and tension way. Like why why put the jim carrey selfspank scene right after Sonic and Shadow had a heart to heart on the moon. Why.

Robotnik's overuse of modern slang also made me wince a bit... didn't like it in the second movie don't like it anymore in the third. I found some of the quips funny like the trauma dumping line but most of the times I felt the jokes were pandering too much to kids and would age badly.

No scene where Wade once again awkwardly third wheels while Robotnik and Stone be weird together again :(

THE FLASHBACK SCENE BEING CUT :'( In the leaked storyboards Robotnik was going to a have a sort of 'feelings realization' moment where he presumably contemplates why he's bothering to save the Earth. A flashback was going to appear showing the scene where Stone gives Robotnik his latte after the latter returned in movie 2, Stone in his GUN disguise rescuing Robotnik after the latter was trapped under the rubble of his mech post movie 2 and a scene where a concerned looking Stone is handfeeding Robotnik soup complete with Robotnik looking depressed in a full body cast. The final storyboard picture showed a wide eyed and concerned Robotnik clearly realizing that Earth being destroyed would mean Stone was going to die as well. The flashback and Stone's life being on the line was what would have prompted Robotnik to try to save the planet. The flashback and feelings realization scene was cut for some reason from the final film :( Think I still have the leaked storyboard images somewhere on my blog but we were robbed.

Well this got longer than expected haha, hope its somewhat coherent.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part one

I'm backkk 👀 Reminder that y'all do NOT like each other (for now 🤭)

I did a lot of math to make sure I had my timeline in order but I won't bore y'all with all the numbers. Some basics, tho: we're somewhere in s5/6, Foyet doesn't exist here but Haley and Hotch are divorced and Jack lives with Haley, Reader is in her mid 30s and Hotch is in his mid 40s. That's all for now, happy reading! xxx

Chapter warnings: these two are at each other's throats! and a new case begins ofc

Your day started out perfectly.

You sorted more of your belongings into boxes for the movers. Everything will be shipped ahead so it arrives shortly after you do at your apartment in Virginia. You’re running ahead of schedule, so you even have time to stop for a good breakfast before heading into the office.

The day felt…too good to be true. And you quickly find out why. 

“The BAU?”

Your superior, Agent Reynolds, sits across from you and raises an eyebrow, assuming incorrectly that you haven’t heard of the branch. “The Behavioral Analy—”

“Yes, I know what the BAU is,” you cut him off, something he’s used to, waving your hand sharply. “Why the BAU?”

“You were requested,” he replies simply with a slight shrug.

“By who?”

“Agent Hotchner, as I’m told.”

That is the last name you ever expected him to say. 

“Hotch?” you echo incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

Reynolds sighs. “I’m really not.” You know deep down Reynolds will miss you, but he’ll also thank god every day that he doesn’t have to put up with your attitude anymore. 

“Huh.” You could laugh. You almost do. “Interesting.”

Your now ex-boss gives you a look, and a sigh. “What now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “Agent Hotchner and I have met before, that’s all.”

+++

Ten and a half years prior to the present day, you worked on a case with Aaron Hotchner. 

Key word: case. One singular case.

You were joined by agents Gideon, Morgan, and, of course, Hotchner. You were the only woman with them at the time, and that already threatened to drive you up a wall. To make matters worse, you and Hotch could not get along to save anyone’s lives. 

The two of you butted heads for two weeks straight, but even that is sugar coating it. He raised his voice at you and you raised your voice right back. Of course, only in private. In the field, you were as professional as can be. But in the tiny conference room that you had to set up for them coming in unannounced? All bets were off.

You’ve never been a particularly angry person, but something about Hotch brought all your anger to the surface.

He was the most arrogant man you had ever come across. He explained things to you that you already knew, and even when you told him you were aware of the topic, he’d continue explaining like he hadn’t heard you, just out of spite.

He underestimated you in ways that had your blood boiling. He wouldn’t send you to interview anyone, despite that being your area of expertise. He had you doing busy work, like a goddamn intern. 

You were your office’s own little BAU. You had read Gideon’s papers, been to profiling lectures. You became a profiler because you knew your city needed one, and by your fifth year in the office, you were one. You knew what you were doing, and Hotch treated you like a newbie. 

He always walked around in a damn suit and tie. Does he not own a t-shirt? Does he know what that is? Would it kill him to breathe once in a while?

Why does he have to look like he constantly has a stick up his ass?

Of course, you aren’t totally innocent. You found his buttons and pushed them since day one. He hated being talked over or shouted at, so those became your favorite things. Especially after he began doing them to you.

Don’t disobey direct orders, he said. You did. And you got the results needed, so he had no choice but to move on.

Don’t come into the interrogation room unless asked for, he said. You did anyway. The unsub needed to feel important, a high priority, and he wasn’t. So, you walked in and told Hotch that the Attorney General of the United States was on the phone. It worked. While Hotch “spoke with the Attorney General,” you got a confession. Hotch had to thank you through gritted teeth.

When the case was solved and the BAU left town, you popped a bottle of fucking champagne. Good riddance you screamed and drank straight from the foaming top.

+++

You mutter under your breath the entire drive to the BAU. Your boxes arrived this morning, but you haven’t had a chance to unpack them, so your apartment is currently a shitshow. 

And now you’re driving to deal with another shitshow. 

You haven’t received any emails or texts from Hotch, which is odd, but you’re sure as hell not questioning it. The less you have to deal with him, the better. He probably shares the same sentiment, which is why he hasn’t contacted you.

From far away, Quantico looks more like a prison than it does a headquarters. You hope it doesn’t feel the same way it looks.

The BAU office is just a short elevator ride up from the parking garage, and you dread every second of it. When the doors open on the BAU floor, you want to scream.

But you’re a professional, not a toddler, so you walk your ass through the glass doors and into the bullpen, your head held high like an adult.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Hi Morgan,” you mirror his grin, accepting his hug. “Miss me?”

He’s in the same black t-shirt and black jeans he always wears, his haircut just the same but shorter. And he finally got rid of the “shaving my face every morning” routine. Stubble looks much better on him.

“For ten years,” Morgan reminds you. “What brings you here?”

You shrug cheekily, feigning innocence. “I heard there was an opening.”

His grin, somehow, grows wider and brighter. “Come here!” He tackles you in another hug, this time lifting you up and spinning you. “God is on my side to-day. Where’s Reid?”

“Putting a disastrous amount of sugar in his coffee,” a blonde woman says as she passes, then stops. “Oh, hi. I’m JJ, you must be Agent L/N. I heard you were coming in today.”

You escape from Morgan’s grip to shake JJ’s hand. “That’s me. JJ, you said?”

She nods, shifting her feet to a more comfortable position in her heels. “I’m the BAU liaison, so you’ll see a lot of me. And very little of me. It’s complicated.”

“I hear that,” you chuckle, just glad to see another woman has joined the team.

And to your surprise, another joins the circle, this one with black hair parted down the middle. “Emily Prentiss,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Are we finally getting another woman around here?”

You nod, glad to hear she agrees with your unspoken comment. “Looks like it.”

“Did someone call my name?”

You turn and see the infamous Dr. Reid stirring a mug of sugar with a splash of coffee. He’s wearing a cardigan, per usual, and what looks like the same pair converse from when you first met him five years ago at a lecture the BAU put on. He was brand new back then. His eyebrows furrow when he sees you, and then they go wide.

“Y/N? Hi!” he says excitedly, nearly spilling his drink. “It’s been so long! Wha— What are you doing here?”

You give JJ and Emily a look that only you three truly understand. “Why do none of the men assume I’ll be joining the team?”

Emily laughs. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid blurts. “Are you really joining us?”

“Sure am,” you grin. “And once I get out of this meeting with Hotch, you’re telling me when the hell you joined a boyband.”

“Oh, ouch,” Morgan taps Reid’s arm lightly with a grin.

“Uh, you too, Derek,” you punch him, letting him know he isn’t off the hook either. “What’s up with the shirt? Do you not own another color?”

“Damn, momma,” Morgan groans. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” you pat his cheek.

“I like you already,” Emily grins.

“Agent L/N,” an unmistakable voice comes from the top of the stairs, effectively ruining the moment. 

He definitely hasn’t changed, you think to yourself as you slowly turn around. 

“Agent Hotchner,” you mimic his tone. “Nice to see you again.”

He grips the railing a little too tightly. And he’s still wearing a damn suit, with a damn tie knotted so tight you wonder if it’s choking him. If it’s not, you want it to be. Maybe he’ll shut up then. 

“I believe our meeting was scheduled for 9am,” he says, earning a sideways glance from the other man standing on the balcony. 

“It still is,” you reply, looking beside his head at the clock on the wall and shit. “I’m late. That’s my fault, sir. I apologize.”

“Yes, it is,” he says. “We need to make this short. Hurry up.” 

He turns and disappears into his office like some imitation of Dracula. You give Derek a helpless look.

“Welcome back,” Reid says, grimacing.

“Thanks, bud,” you reply, knowing he means well. “If any of you hear any screaming, pay no mind, that’s just how we greet each oth—”

“Agent L/N!” Hotch shouts from his doorway.

“Coming!” you shout back, just as loud and just as annoyed. “For fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

You hop up the stairs two at a time, reaching Hotch’s office in seconds. 

The man that was beside Hotch offers you a smile. “I’m Agent Rossi,” he extends his hand. 

“Agent L/N,” you return the friendly expression, shaking his hand, just glad that he at least seems happy to meet you. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Rossi nods slowly, mouthing, “Good luck.”

You like him already. You smirk.

Hotch is standing behind his desk when you walk into his office, anger written all over his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, fingers picking at his nails ever so slightly.

“Close the door.”

“Promise not to shoot me?” you joke, but it doesn’t land. You shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk while he remains standing. “Well?”

Finally, he speaks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh. “Oh, great.” You sit up because this is just stupid. “Are you kidding me? This is the last division I wanted to work in, but I was transferred here. At your behest, might I add—”

“I can assure you, Agent L/N, I did not request that you join my team,” he says as he sits down, rolling toward his desk and placing his arms over the files littered before him.

“Well then Agent Reynolds is a fucking liar, I guess,” you deadpan. “He’s the one who told me I was assigned to the BAU — because of you.”

“Well it wasn’t me.”

“Glad we got that settled,” you shoot back, wanting instead to add, like I fucking care if it was you or not. “Listen, whether either of us likes it or not, I was assigned here, so I’m here. If you want me to leave, take it up with Agent Reynolds or whoever the fuck really requested me. But I can’t do shit about this, and this is now my job, so I’m not leaving just because you want to have some pissing contest.”

He looks like he’s chewing on fire. “Your job security is not my problem—”

“For God’s sake, call your fucking boss, it won’t make you any less of a man to ask a goddamn question about why you have a new agent in your office.”

Hotch glares at you, but does as you say, picking up his desk phone and pressing a few buttons.

You sit back in your chair, waiting in silence. You turn your head to look through the blinds because Hotch didn’t close them all the way, and you nearly start to laugh. Huddled around one desk, Morgan, JJ, Emily, Reid, and another blonde woman dressed in bright colors and shapes are listening intently to Reid who is no doubt lip reading and translating this entire conversation.

Finally, the line connects and Hotch starts speaking. Almost as quick as the phone call begins, it ends.

“Well?” you ask.

“There was some miscommunication,” Hotch admits, though he does not look happy about it. “Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

You smile sarcastically. “Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “We’ll meet in the conference room in five minutes to discuss the rest of today. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” you mutter as you escape his office, just glad he didn’t torture you with a handshake.

Emerging from Hotch’s office, you stand against the railing and ask the team where the conference room is.

Morgan points to your left. “Why?”

“He told me we’re meeting there to discuss—”

“That’s on hold now,” JJ says, whirling around the BAU with an armful of files. “We’ve got a case. Missing girl, thirteen years old.” She passes out files in the bullpen, handing one to you as she ascends the stairs.

“Shit,” you mutter. “How long has she been missing?”

“Starting without me?” Hotch asks as he walks out of his office. He takes a file from JJ and says a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Yep, we are,” you say right back, scanning your file. You think you hear Rossi let out a chuckle at your response. “Gone since this morning. Are they certain it wasn’t overnight?”

“The mother dropped Lila off at school this morning at seven, and by nine, she was absent,” JJ explains as everyone fills into the conference room. “They paged her at school over the intercom, but she’s not in any of the classrooms.”

“How are we hearing about this so quickly?” Morgan asks. “I mean, I’m glad, but it’s been…just over an hour. We don’t normally have this much time.”

“Because,” JJ pauses, pointing the remote toward the TV. “This is Lila’s father.”

On the screen, the FBI’s Most Wanted are staring back at you. JJ clicks again, and one face comes forward.

“Who?” Emily says.

“Richard Monroe,” Reid says aloud. “He’s been on the run for almost two years. He’s said to have killed a dozen people, all females, but they suspect there might be more. Every time we’ve come close to catching him, he gets away.”

“And now his daughter is missing,” Rossi adds. “I’m guessing this guy is our unsub.”

“I don’t know,” you stare into Richard’s eyes on the screen. “When was he last seen?”

“You can investigate that when we get there,” Hotch says curtly. “They’re waiting for us and we’ll lose time by flying. Wheels up in ten.”

Everyone files out of the room and Hotch stays back, waiting for you to be the last one in the room.

“Agent L/N,” Hotch gets your attention. “Since you’ve never tackled a case like this before, try your best to follow orders, and watch what the team does. Don’t make any rash decisions and don’t go off on your own.”

None of his comments anger you as much as the first one. “You don’t know that I’ve never encountered something like this.”

“Don’t argue with me when we have a missing girl,” Hotch snaps. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply, pushing past him.

“I hope you have a go bag,” he calls after you. “There will be no time for shopping when we’re on the ground.”

“Then I’ll just wear your clothes!” you yell back, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him. You hear Morgan snicker down in the bullpen. 

“Agent L/N,” Hotch says, and when you turn around, you see he’s giving you his famous stare.

You sigh. “My bag is in my car. It’ll take me two minutes to grab it. That’s clearly less than ten. Unless you have anything else to say that might delay me further?”

“Go,” he says, waving you away as he heads into his office to grab his bag. “Now.”

+++

While you’re on the jet, you do some research on Richard Monroe. He’s a grade A piece of shit if you’ve ever seen one.

But he’s not the type to go after his daughter.

“Garcia, can you check and see if Richard tried at all to contact Lila on her cell?” you ask.

“I would, sweets, but I can’t find Lila’s phone. Their house phone, however, has no calls.”

“He wouldn’t call the house phone, not with Lila’s mom watching over her like a hawk,” you murmur. 

Hotch lifts his head. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That her mother would be overbearing.”

“Her father’s a serial killer on the run, Hotch,” you reply. “Any mother would keep tabs on her daughter’s every breath if she had a father like that. It’s logic.”

“She makes a fair point,” Rossi says.

“It’s unfounded,” Hotch ignores him, still dead set on irritating you. “Until you talk to her mother, don’t jump to any conclusions about her behavior.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Until I do?”

“Yes, you will be talking to her mother when we get on the ground. Morgan will go with you.” He nods to Derek. “Reid, you and JJ get set up at the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and I will go to the middle school. We’ll meet back at the precinct to discuss our next steps.”

You share a look with Morgan before sinking back in your chair, glaring at the file instead of Hotch.

It's going to be a long fucking day.

[lokischocolatefountain]

An Unexpected Present

Summary: Hope and reassurance comes from an unexpected source when Joel think there might be none.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Merry Christmas, pedroblr (is that a thing?) This is my little Christmas present to everyone and I hope (ba dum tss) it gives a bit of hope in terrible times in a different world. This is my present specifically to @docharleythegeekqueen as part of @pedrostories's Secret Santa event. Thank you so much for organizing this and I hope I have delivered as Santa.

People never turned up at your door at the crack of dawn. Thank goodness. It was mostly because you didn’t really have a door for the past two decades for anyone to show up at. Now you had one and apparently people—no, men— took that as an invitation to show up. Okay, it was one man. That was already one too many. 

“What the fuck?” You asked, looking at the guy holding the most god awful bouquet of dried flowers you’d ever seen. Did they do Valentine’s in Jackson? And if so, did they do it in fucking December? 

“You’re the chemistry teacher?” 

Don’t fucking say some corny line about having chemistry with me, you thought, the old pick up line getting on your nerves before it could even be uttered. 

“I am. And I won’t make you meth if that’s what you’re here to ask.” 

He laughed softly, his cheeks turning pink from the winter air. “I wasn’t. But now I’m thinking about it. No, I’m uh… Ellie told me you knew how to make paint?” 

You realized then that he was your student Ellie’s dad. Maria’s brother in law who used to be a contractor in the before times. His name had come up a few times when Maria’s husband told you about how they were fixing up the old houses in the town. 

“Yeah…?” 

“I was wonderin’ if you could make some for me. We can trade for it.” 

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry… I don’t make that kind of paint.” 

“I didn’t even tell ya what kinda paint I’m lookin’ for.” 

“For walls?” 

“Wow. Why, cause I look like this,” he said, gesturing to himself, “I can’t be looking for watercolor to paint the next Mona Lisa?” 

“The Mona Lisa was painted with oil paints.” 

“It’ll be the watercolor Mona Lisa then. These flowers good enough to make some paint?” He asked, holding out the dried flowers and leaves. 

“Depends on the colors you want for this post apocalyptic Mona Lisa.” 

“Red, green, black and white.” 

“Doesn’t sound like the Mona Lisa to me. Sounds like Christmas.” 

“They told me you were smart, but not that you were a genius,” he mocked, making you roll your eyes. You would’ve closed the door on him and avoided him forever. It was a foolish way to spend the little resources you had on something like paint for Christmas decorations. Linseed oil for protecting wooden surfaces, alum for water clarification, and washing soda for…well, washing. So you told him as much. His face fell when you explained you won’t waste necessary resources for something as superfluous as paint. But he accepted, wished you a good day and left your doorsteps with his dried flowers. 

You thought that would be the end of it. But you didn’t know a very crucial piece of information then. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, sounding more aggressive than you’d intended to be. 

“Didn’t think it was relevant since ya said making paint is a waste of your time,” he said, sounding a little smug.

“That was before your brother said you had coffee! Why didn’t you tell me you had coffee?” 

“You didn’t say what you’d trade for.” 

“I’ll trade for coffee.” 

Coffee it was. The next morning, he showed up at your door with a thermos full of coffee. Guilty about how you’d treated him the previous day, you invited him inside. What started as politeness became a routine. 

“Had no idea it’d turn blue.” 

“It’s because red cabbages have a chemical called anthocyanin. It’s a natural ph indicator. So when you add it to a neutral substance like water, it turns blue.” 

He nodded, his annoyance at you beginning to change seeing the excitement on your face. It was easy to forget he was also resistant to normalcy when he first arrived at Jackson. Scarcity was the biggest threat to your life outside the infected and it wasn’t easy to set aside old practices you’d built to survive. But that didn’t stop him from being annoyed at you when you told him that paint for Christmas decorations was a waste of your time. 

“Did you teach before, too?” He asked. 

“No. I uh…I worked in the pharmaceutical industry. Made medicines.” 

“Damn,” he said, his mind immediately going to Ellie. If she knew what you did for a living before… There was a real risk too, with you being her teacher and all. A bigger problem was you finding out somehow about Ellie’s immunity and deciding to do something about it. He could handle you of course. He’d handled fireflies with all their weapons. But it wouldn’t be easy to get away with in Jackson. 

“Yeah. And before you ask, no I can’t find a cure.” 

“Why did you think I’d ask that?” He squinted, his worries still not resolved. 

“Everyone does.” 

“Huh.” 

The rest of the walk to the school passed in silence as he mulled over your words. You didn’t believe there was a cure so you wouldn’t look in Jackson for one. That should be enough to calm him. But you didn’t know someone in town was immune. He would have to keep an eye on you. 

____

While the mornings were spend drinking coffee with each other, the evenings were for making paint. He’d gathered everything you needed. Even sat with you and helped you grind the ingredients with a pestle and mortar. You liked to spend your time alone after hours of dealing with loud, curious children. 

You didn’t think you would be alright with Joel intruding on that. But he was good company. He stayed silent apart from asking doubts about the process. The only sound was that of the both of you grinding the pigment source into a fine power set with cyclical movements of the pestles in the mortars. 

“You’re a big fan of Christmas?” You asked one evening. 

“I wouldn’t say so, no.” 

“So, why are you parting with your beloved coffee just for red and green paints?” 

He laughed softly as he tied a filter to the top of a bottle. “It’s for Ellie,” he said, his hand rubbing the broken watch on his wrist. “She never had a normal Christmas so…since we came here to Jackson, I try to do what the town needs for a nice Christmas.” 

“That’s nice,” you said, feeling yourself warming up to him. “How many Christmases have you had here?” You asked, not feeling it appropriate to ask when they arrived. Too personal and invasive perhaps. 

“This is the second one.” 

“Mmm. She deserves it. Ellie. She’s a good kid.” 

“She is, yeah.” 

“It’s…hopeful. Being around young people again. We are all so… Well, I am so disillusioned with the world. She seems to have hope.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Asked me if I could find a cure if there was someone immune.” 

His heart almost stopped. What else did she tell you? 

“And what did you say?” 

“The truth. That it’s not possible even if we found someone with immunity.” 

“Why is that?” 

“We didn’t have the technology for this even back in the day. Not for fungi. It took years to create a cure even when we had proper labs and researchers. It’s not likely for us to even find someone who is immune. Even if I did, how would I get to the source of their immunity? We can’t do any tests. We can’t do imaging. If there was someone immune, they should just shut up about it and be alive.” 

“Isn’t that selfish? Ruining the world’s chance to… to become…become normal?” 

“It won’t. Not in our lifetimes. Say we do find a cure. How do we manufacture this drug or vaccine? How many can we make? A hundred? A thousand? And how would we even distribute it? I don’t think a few bicycles and our horses could be as effective as planes and ships to take them around the country. And these things have an expiration date, so…”

“I never thought of that.” 

“Yeah. People are so intoxicated by hope that they fail to consider the logistics. I don’t blame them, though. It’s only natural to hope. Because if there’s no hope for the future, there’s no reason to do fucking anything.” 

“Do you have hope?” 

“Of course,” you said, giving him a smile. Not a naive one free of the burden of truth but a radical one persevering despite it all. “Jackson gives me hope. I didn’t think there could be such a place… There has to be an end to the fungus’ reign at some point in the future. When it has no one to consume. There could be people who are immune and natural selection could take its course, pass the immunity on genetically. Won’t be anytime soon of course. Maybe a few thousand years.” 

“If humanity survives until then. We could all die like the dinosaurs.” 

“We could. Or we could survive. If we’re here, who’s to say there aren’t other little towns persevering? Maybe a few will evolve and survive. They may no longer be us— homosapiens. But they’ll be here. But if not, there’s still all the animals who will look up at the same stars we see every night.” 

“That’s strangely hopeful,” he said after a moment of silence. He wanted to cross the table between the two of you and give you a hug. Tell you that you were the only one who said something optimistic to him that wasn’t a load of rubbish. 

But he went instead for an ornament just for you. Carved it out of wood how he did with all the other ornaments he made for the town’s large Christmas tree. 

When you found the wooden star painted white at your door, you were surprised but had no doubt who it was from. You would never know what you’d done for him. He never doubted he made the right decision getting Ellie out of that hospital. But it helped hearing from someone who didn’t know what happened that she would’ve died for nothing had he made the wrong decision. It was an unexpected present. One you never intended. 

And the next time he was at your door with flowers, they weren’t for making paint. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 3

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Falling into my well-tread pattern of everything I write getting steadily longer chapter by chapter. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

When he wants to be, Ben is shockingly romantic. It doesn’t surprise you—you can feel the power and fervor of his love every second, its pious and wrathful devotion all focused on you—but he always manages to outdo himself. To be more romantic than any epic poem or tragedy, to know you better than you might know yourself, to be the best fuck you’ve ever had every single time. 

What does surprise you is how he still sometimes aches with mold in your chest. How you’ve shown him time and time again that, if he asked, you’d learn to raise the dead and travel through time and move planets with only your hands for him. You’d burn out the sun and create worlds fueled only by your love for Ben, and he’s always surprised that’s the truth. 

It’s always been the truth. It feels like more than the truth. A little more than a fact or law. It just fucking is. You’re Ben’s. He’s yours. That’s the end of it.

And you couldn’t do better than him. Nobody could do better than Ben, and it’s why you might feel really fucking possessive of him. The gossip magazines and Fake Face—you’re pretty sure her name is Deandra or something, but you don’t really fucking care—don’t look at Ben and see an angel. They don’t fucking get that he’s everything, and safe, and strong and warm and handsome. They don’t understand that he knows how to say every right thing, that he treats you like you’re holy, and cares more than anyone you’ve ever met.

They just want his body, and he’s not a fucking whore.

He’s a little bit of a fucking whore.

He’s your fucking whore. He’s your slab of meat to objectify and drool over, to tease and touch and pout at. Ben is fucking yours. And you’re his, and you trust him with more than your life, and you love him more than the whole universe.

And he’s such a fucking asshole. And you’re going to kill him.

Can I come inside now?

No, he grunts in your head, and you can feel him. Feel that instinct of Ben moving around inside the house, doing something that he refuses to tell you about. 

I never tell you no about coming inside-

Ben snorts. Smartass.

Is that a yes-

No. He says your name in the low hum of the stereo, and you feel rough affection start to cover your skin. Don’t lose your fucking mind, I’m almost done.

Done with what?

Nice try.

You sigh, leaning your head back on the seat. Are you ever going to tell me what you’re doing?

Are you ever going to tell me what that fucking secret shit was.

No, it’s still a surprise-

So is this. Fucking wait. You can almost see the cocky smirk on his face as hunger flashes through his blood. Patience is a virtue, darling-

Shut the fuck up, old man.

He chuckles in your head, and it still, somehow, rolls through your body. Brat.

Cunt. How about now-

Christ, woman. Ben in your head, and you know he’s about to open the door before he does, because your whole body starts to sing Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, bigger than the universe and yours and Ben.

You smile at him when he appears, marching over to the car and opening the door with a glare you know is fake.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” he mutters, helping you out of the car. “Lucky I fucking love you.“

“I am, aren’t I.” You grab his face between your hands, your smile probably a little idiotic. “You’re so good to me, my love.”

He grunts, all his annoyance a good performance, but pointless when he’s still looking at you with an unyielding reverence and you can feel his love begin to pound out of his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine.” Ben offers you his hand, something alert and tight over his throat relaxing slightly when you tangle your fingers in his. “Let’s go.”

He’d insisted you dress up before you dropped Ryan off at Butcher’s for Christmas Eve. So you’d done full makeup and hair, put on your fanciest dress that was still slutty enough to make Ben’s nostrils flare and that part of him in you feel starved, and returned to the house with a strict order from Ben to stay inside until he was ready.

You’d been under the impression you were going out.

You’d been wrong.

But this is so much better.

Just to start, Ben cooked. And he’s turned out be an amazing cook. You think he doesn’t grumble and scowl about it because—in his mind—it’s another thing for him to do for you. Something he can make you, something he can care for you with. Something he can offer you, just like this. A stupidly romantic and dizzying gesture of dinner. Steak—eating birds is for fucking pussies, Sunshine—and potatoes and bread, laid out on a blanket in the living room, right next to the tree.

He knows you love the tree. Ben’s obviously figured out that you’ve been sitting in the living room so much—when you read or work or watch TV on your laptop—because of the Christmas tree. Because it makes the whole house smell even more like pine—even more like Ben—and is so colorful and warm it eases your whole body into simple happiness.

And this is making you feel high. Mindlessly happy and easy, Ben wrapped around your body—his chin resting on the top of your head as he waits for you to speak—and the whole world around you evidence of his love, and this is so good, and you love him so much, and-

“Thank you.” You turn in his arms, the smile on your face so real and made of purely love. “It’s perfect.” 

Ben grunts, and the glow becomes bloody and ardorous in his chest. “You like it.”

You give him an amused look, rising up to kiss him soft and long and slow. Allowing a little bit of your blood—of your love—to move from your body to his, allowing him to tangle a hand in your hair and pull you a little off the ground as he presses his tongue on your lower lip. As you part them for him, and he groans down your throat.

I love it. You whisper in his head, making a small, content sound of bliss as his tongue sweeps over your teeth. I love you, Benjamin. Thank you.

Neither of you rush to pull apart, and when  you to do there’s a long moment where Ben drops his brow to your, you curl your fingers in his chest, and you exist only in the feeling of each other. Heavy, traded breaths, bodies fit perfectly together, everything so easy.

This is so fucking easy.

It’s easy to let Ben guide you to the floor, and to watch him drop across from you with a wide, cocky grin. Easy to take whatever he offers you—food and affection and love—and smile the whole time. Easy to tug him to your side, because he’s barely a foot away, and that’s too far.

“The whole point is that it’s a date,” He grumbles your name, even as he shuffles to sit with your leg hooked over his, your body tucked into his side. “We should be fucking looking at each other-“

“I’m looking at you,” you shrug, smiling up at him. “It’s not that hard, Benjamin, you just sort of move your eyes-“

Ben leans down, kissing you until you make an undignified whimper and his chuckle sends a wave of thirst through your body.

“Fucking brat,” He mutters against your lips, pulling away with a slight shake of his head. “You’re happy like this.”

He’s talking about how you’re sitting. And you’re more than happy with that—Ben’s big and warm, still around you, still everything—but you make your words a little clearer, and little gentler. Filled with how fucking good this, he is, you feel. 

“I’m happy.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss over his beard. “Really happy.”

Ben nods slowly and grabs his plate from across the blanket, pulling you fully into his lap and folding his body over yours as you eat.

“Butcher said we could go over early tomorrow,” you lean back to watch Ben as he eats, tapping your fork against your plate. “For Ryan.”

“We were doing that shit no matter what,” A little bit of potato falls into Ben’s beard as he grumbles, and he doesn’t stop speaking as you reach up to wipe it away. “He’s our kid, Butcher’s damn lucky he gets Ryan tonight.”

You hum. “He’s our kid?”

“Of course he’s our fucking kid, I don’t see anyone else-“

“I know.” You pull a piece of steak between your teeth, smiling backwards at him. “I just like hearing you say it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Do you,” you swallow, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we’re doing a good job? With Ryan?”

Ben shrugs. “Doing the best damn job we can, but the kid’s already seen some shit.”

“I know, but-“

“It’s a fucking miracle he can go to school and laugh, Sunshine,” he grunts, moving one hand to cup your chin, keeping your gaze on his. “That’s a good job.” Ben presses a soft kiss to your lips, speaking against them. “You’re doing a good fucking job.”

You let out a soft, happy sigh, and the constant tension over your lungs—that, just maybe, you were fucking up Ryan more—eases a little bit as you curl further into Ben’s arms. “Thank you.”

Ben scowls, but the glow blooms over his whole body. “Don’t. Tell me about work.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you mumble, setting your plate back on the ground. “It’s going well? Everything’s going smoothly, nobody is trying to kill anyone else, we- oh,” You grin at him. “Can you keep a secret?”

He nods, watching you carefully, and your smile grows.

“Hughie’s going to propose,” you whisper. “He showed MM and I the ring.”

Ben grunts, his fingers moving to touch your engagement ring, resting easier and natural next to your wedding band. “Good for them.”

“That it?” You tilt your head at him. “Just good for them?”

He rolls his eyes at your deep voiced impression of him, raising your hand to kiss your palm. “What the fuck am I supposed to say-“

“Congratulations?” You suggest. “Maybe call Hughie and offer him some advice?”

“Advice-“

“On marriage.” You smile at him, and the love in his body grow fervorish. “You’re doing a good job. Share your wisdom, old man.”

He scowls, but falls silents for a long moment. Rubbing circles on your skin as he scans over your face, pulling you carefully and reverently apart as he actually thinks about it.

“Keep your wife happy.” He mutters, and you think you might have melted from how firm and certain he sounds, how he’s looking at you like you’re the sun, how his love is alive and furious in your body. “And fuck her like she deserves.”

You giggle, the noise a little high and needy. “Romantic.”

“Shut the fuck up, brat, you love it.”

“I do,” you sigh, pulling his arms a little tighter around him. “How’s work for you-“

“Fine.”

“Just fine-“

“It’s easy shit, but I don’t fucking love it, darling. Christ, Butcher is my goddamn boss.”

“Well, at least he’s giving you the holidays off-“

“He fucking better be.” Ben glares into the air. “Pussy picks up another case, he’ll have to give me the best damn blowjob in history to get me to work it.”

You snort, giving him a fake pout. “I thought your dick was mine, Pretty Boy-“

“It is.” He grunts, kissing the top of your head. “So he’s never fucking getting me to go.”

“What if he asked really nicely?”

Ben raises his brows at you. “To blow me.”

“Yeah.” You hum, nodding, unable to contain the wide, bright smile on your face. “What if he begged?”

“Nobody,” Ben drawls, his deep voice moving through your whole body and settling, hot and coiled, in your gut. “Fucking begs me like you do, Sunshine. And Butcher would have to do it half as pretty as that.”

You flush, even as you whack his arm around you. “Fuck you-“

“I will,” he mutters in your ear, trailing one hand up your thigh and under your dress, his hunger starting to bloom and spread over your whole body. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves, and you,” he kisses that spot on your neck, smirking at your breathy sigh. “Look fucking beautiful. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind not to fuck you.”

You might have whimpered, but Ben swallows your every breath and noise with a deep, long kiss and everything turns into a warm haze of Ben.

I’m here. Ben traces his tongue over your lower lip, his hand resting at the very apex of your thigh, but not just touching you. What do you want, beautiful?

Right as he praises you, Ben presses his thumb over your clit, still covered by your panties, and your moan is loud and shameless as he starts to rub small circles.

Fuck, you throw your head back, reaching up to grab at Ben’s face, your fingers curling in his beard. Shit, Ben, please-

Please, what? He flicks you once, dragging two fingers over your clothed slit. Words, darling, need to hear that pretty fucking begging-

Ben, please, please more, need more-

He hums, latching his mouth to your neck and sucking, right as he presses his thumb firmly down on your clit, pulling a high whine from your throat. More what.

You, need you, need more of you-

I know, darling. He chuckles, resuming those slow, torturous circles. Bet you’re already fucking soaked for me, so fucking desperate, Sunshine, so fucking beautiful-

Benjamin, please- You cut your silent words off with a squeal as Ben pushes those two, broad fingers into your aching pussy through your underwear, his free hand palming at your breasts. Fuck-

You want to fucking cum, darling? That what you really need?

Yes, yes, please, Ben- You gasp as he slaps your dripping, still clothed pussy once, hunger and smug pride flaring in his chest at your whine. 

“Hold it.” He mutters, and before you know what’s happening he’s hooking an arm under your legs, standing up with you held carefully in his arms. “I’ve got something for you.”

You blink at him, still a little lost in his big, strong arms around you as he carries you upstairs, the power and zeal of his love inside you, the ache between your legs that’s only growing as you drown in warm and handsome and pine and Ben-

He grunts your name, and you swallow. “Are you-

“I’m good,” you whisper, offering him a small smile as he kicks the door to your bedroom open. “You have something?”

“For you.” Ben doesn’t set you down on the bed, but in front of the bookshelf, right next to your dresser. “Early gift.”

You tilt your head up to scan over his set, firm features, all watching you with an unraveling attention. He’s tensed in your body, sore in a way that doesn’t hurt, something electric in his hands and on his tongue. Ben grabs your chin and carefully guides your gaze back to the books, his chest pressed to your back and his words low.

“Try to burn them.”

You swat his hand away, your gaze shooting up to him with a glare. “Benjamin, there is no fucking way-“

“Trust me, Sunshine.” He wraps his arms around your waist, rubbing soft circles as he holds your glower. “Just do it.”

“But they’re books-“

“I fucking know that. Trust me.” He smirks, kissing your brow as your glare deepens. “Do I ever damn lie to you, darling?”

You scowl. “No.”

“Would I ever try to pull some sort of fucking trick?”

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to the books with a frown. “Burn them.”

“That’s what I said.” Ben rests his chin on your brow, his body still filled with that odd electrically. “Do it.”

You sigh. “If I burn down the house, we’re getting a divorce-“

“You’re not going to burn down the damn house.” 

“But if I do-“

“You’d remarry me a week later.” Ben says, his voice dry and bored. “Stop fucking stalling.”

You chew on your tongue as you raise hand, digging your nails into Ben’s arm and squeezing your eyes shut as you let a small amount of fire out from under your skin. Barely a spark, but enough to reduce paper to ash. 

Ben’s whole body starts to glow with pride, nothing smells like lingering smoke, and—when you wearily drag your eyes open—the room looks the exact same.

The books look the exact same.

“What the-“

“Got Frenchie to fireproof them,” Ben spins you in his arms, and the grin on his face is almost boyish. “He used some sort of fucking coating or some shit. And it took all goddamn month, he had to do one at a time so you wouldn’t notice.”

You gape at him. At his bright smile, and chiseled, rough features, and the pure love and adoration in his eyes. Your whole brain is just a hum of Ben. All yours. He’s all yours, and he’s everything, and you might start crying because, fuck, you really couldn’t ask for anything more than him-

“Ben,” your voice is a little hoarse, your body slumped fully into his. “I, I don’t-“

There’s a flash of soreness over his skin, his arms tightening around you, and you’re moving before it can settle into his bones. Throwing yourself into him with everything you have, before he can even properly doubt the gift, can start to think that you’re not happy. That this—that he—isn’t so fucking amazing it’s making you stupid.

It’s perfect. Your hands tangle in his hair, smiling against his lips as you melt fully into his body. You’re perfect, Ben. Thank you.

Don’t. He grunts, but it turns into a long groan that sparks in your gut and presses your thighs together. You’re-

I know I am. You press your brow to his as you separate. But you are as well. And I love you.

“I love you too,” Ben’s voice is low, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “And you’re still the perfect one, darling. You’re a fucking miracle.”

You swallow, leaning back to watch him carefully. “I got something for you as well,” you whisper. “But it feels kind of, um, bad now.”

He scowls. “It’s not fucking bad.”

“You don’t even know what it is, Benjamin-“

“You got it for me.” He mutters. “Can’t be fucking bad.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your smile is a little idiotic, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek before taking a long step back. “Let’s find out, then.”

Ben looks like he’s going to say something—his brows knit and a small frown on his handsome face—but it’s gone the moment you pull off your dress.

It’s a little cocky to make yourself his gift. But Ben’s nostrils are flaring, his jaw clenched so hard you’re worrying he might break it, and everything in his body is hunger. Raw, feral hunger that’s making his eyes dark with lust and his muscles flex under his shirt as he takes you in. Scans over the lingerie set you’d bought specifically for him, dark green and lace and very easily rippable. Leaving more of you exposed than covered, possibly the sluttiest thing you’ve ever owned, and all for Ben. All for how he’s watching you like he wants to ruin you, and you’re more than happy to let him. 

“Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, shaking his head slightly. “You’re, fuck, Sunshine, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, lowering yourself to your knees with your best innocent expression. “You’re not so bad yourself, Benjamin, my love.”

“Fucking-“ He groans as you crawl forward, stopping right in front of him before smiling up at his lust-blown expression. “Are you trying to damn kill me-”

You shake your head, your smile growing. “No. But,” you run a hand up his thigh, squeezing your legs together as you see his bulge, proud and straining at his pants. “I might be trying to do something else.” You rest light fingers over him, swallowing at his low growl. “If you want.”

Ben’s chuckle is animalistic, a big, warm hand tangling in your hair and pulling your face fully back. “Fucking hell,” he says your name with an awe that’s so out of place in the hot, undying desire etched over his every feature and organ, but still so painfully natural. “You want to suck my cock, beautiful?”

“Yes, please,” you grip his wrist as he traces his thumb over your cheekbones, not trying to hide the need and borderline desperation in your voice. “Ben, please-“

“So fucking good,” he mutters, and you moan when his thumb presses on your lower lip, his throat bobbing as you open for him without thought. “Christ, Sunshine, you’re a goddamn marvel. So fucking pretty on your knees, when you fucking beg and say my name. So fucking beautiful and perfect, fucking, shit-“

You’d been fiddling with his belt as he drawled, and the moment you get it off you’re moving. Freeing his huge, already throbbing cock from his pants, swiping your thumb over the head of him before licking a long, slow stripe on the underside. 

“Fuck,” Ben’s words are pushed through his teeth, his hand now braced on the dresser as you smile up at him, slowly pumping your hand over his shaft. “You’re, fuck-“

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly up and down as you swirl your tongue around him, moaning when he bumps the back of your throat and squirming as he groans above you. 

“Jesus, fuck, you’re a goddamn miracle, darling, such a good girl, look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth-“ He’s groan rolls through your whole body, and you start to grind onto the air. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re so fucking beautiful, feel like a fucking sin, so- Fuck, you were goddamn made for me, fucking mine-“

Ben’s praise starts to slur as you move one hand up to play with his balls, your eyes never leaving his as you pick up your pace. 

Ben, you whine around him when his hips jerk. Please, just-

You reach back to grab his hand in your hair, squeezing his balls once and sucking on the very head of him as you pull almost fully off, and he understands without question. His grip tightens, his hunger and pleasure so close to bursting in his gut, and begins to fuck your face. It’s unrelenting and brutal, your teeth grazing his cock as the wood creaks under his free hand, and it’s all you can do not to climb up his body and beg him to fuck you. To just rolls your hips and rub your thighs together as Ben watches you under lidded eyes, his words barely a growl and his cock twitching as drool falls out of your mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he groans, slamming you down on him until your nose hit his abdomen, your nails curling in his skin. “So fucking good, darling, fucking beautiful, goddamn perfect, smart fucking mouth stuffed full of me, going to make you taste me for a hundred fucking years, fuck-“

Ben’s orgasm crashes through you like a storm, washing all of you away and turning everything into Ben. His cum hot and sticky on your tongue and down your throat, his eyes flashing as he loosens his grip and pulls you off of him with a pop. Big, careful hands wiping a stray drop of his release from lip before smearing it over your cheek, and a deep voice like a song chuckling when you moan stupidly at the gesture.

“Like that, Sunshine?” He mutters, his face drawn in amusement but his touch and tone reverent. “Like me fucking marking you?”

You whimper of his name, and Ben shakes his head in slight disbelief, his hunger already ravenous in his body. 

“Already so fucked out you can’t damn speak?” Ben’s hand in your hair drifts down as he lowers down to his knees, pulling you into his arms and scanning over your face with a narrowed gaze. “Need to hear you, darling. Fucking words-“

“Fuck me.“ You whimper, because your body has decided to listen to Ben over anything else. “Please.”

Ben’s face is predatory. It’s made of the hunger in his body and this raw adoration that’s roaring in your chest. There are promises in his eyes, darkened and starving and primal, and his attention and touch seem to be searing into your skin. All of him is focused on you—Ben’s always just focused on you—and he’s massive and safe and warm, so you might have a small, mind-numbing orgasm just from his hands rubbing firm patterns on your skin and the growling promise of his voice.

“I need a minute,” he grunts, keeping you steady in his arms as he moves you onto the bed, laying you flat on the mattress. “But darling,” his mouth curving into a smirk as he takes you in, already writhing under him, your underwear soaked and expression slack with need. “I’m not fucking stupid enough to tell you no.”

“Ben,” you reach up, trying fruitlessly to grab his shirt and pull him down to you. “Please-“

“Fucking patience, beautiful.” Ben rises fully up, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls off his shirt, his grin only growing as your hips jump off the bed from the sight of him. “Fuck, you want me that damn bad-“

“Yes, Ben, need you, I-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben drops to his knees on the mattress, shoving your knees apart with a low grunt and ripping of your panties without effort. “Fuck-“

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a finger over the lips of your pussy, his hand on your inner thigh tightening as you moan. “You’re fucking soaked. So fucking wet, Sunshine, fucking wrecked and I’ve barely touched you-“

“Ben,” you grab his hand, trying to hold it against you as you grind onto his fingers. “God, please-“

He yanks his hand away, and you make a long sound of desperation at the loss, but you’ve barely started squirming when you feel his mouth latch onto your clit, one hand planted on your stomach to keep you pinned down as he begins to suck. 

Your whole body lights up. Ben’s tongue keeps drawing circles around and over you, his teeth bumping whenever his lips pull you far enough in, and you’re not even sure you remember how to moan. All you know how to do is pull at Ben’s hair and try to fly off the mattress, to hump his face as his beard brushed your thighs and the pressure on your clit becomes painfully blissful, perfect torture, and to moan words that are supposed to be pleas and screams of Ben, Ben, Ben, fuck, please, Ben, fuck, Ben, I love you-

Love you too, Sunshine. Ben growls against you, and it vibrates over your pussy and makes your eyes roll back in your head. Taste so fucking good, need you to squirt on my goddamn face- Your body obeys, something snapping and rushing through your body as Ben groans around your clit and pushes a finger into your cunt, crooking it and playing that one spot inside you until you’re a moaning, dripping mess under his touch.

And he doesn’t stop. Your eyes blur with dizzying relief and you’re wet over his beard and skin, but Ben just keeps going. He starts to flick and nip, to pump that finger inside of you, and your mouth falls open with a strangled noise as you cum again. Your thighs start to crush his face, your hips bucking and rolling in the bed, and fuck it feels so good, you can’t really think but you know this is good, and Ben doesn’t stop. He goes and goes and goes, growing sloppier and rough on your pussy as you come apart over and over and over. You’re flying and falling and singing and drowning in Ben, touching you so right your brain is fuzzy and your whole body is just for Ben. For his hands and tongue and teeth and lips to devour, to try and pull inside you as you scream and unravel for him, as he ruins you- 

When he pulls away, your jaw is slack and your face might just be an open, drunken expression of Ben.

“You’re good.” Ben reappears in your vision, his handsome face coated in your release and his attention so devout—eyes searching over your face, voice low and firm, hands drifting over you like you were made for him to touch—that all you can do is whimper.

Ben, please. Just, you thrust your hips up, the movement uncoordinated and jerked. Fuck me, please-

His nostrils flare, his hands stilling on your body. “You want fucking more?”

You nod, flushing slightly, and Ben groans.

“Christ, you’re fucking perfect.” He presses a slow, long, kiss to your lips, chuckling when your lips fall open without thought. “You’ll never fucking understand, Sunshine, you’re-“ He cuts himself off, rising up to grin at you. “Fuck, you’re so good. Fucking love you.” He dives down to your neck, sucking and biting at that spot until you’re wiggling under him. “Love you so much it’s going to fucking kill me-“

Love you too, Ben, I- You almost scream as he moves to your breasts, ripping off the bra to pinch at once nipple as his mouth latches onto the other. God, Ben, please just fuck me, you fucking asshole-

He rises back up with mocking, raised brows. “Words. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Your voice is hoarse, barely even a breath. “Please, Ben, I want you-“

He hums, and you gasp as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. “You want my cock? Want me to fuck that perfect pussy until you’re screaming?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes please.”

“Say it.”

You swallow, your nails digging into the bare skin of his back. “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I scream. Please-“

Ben’s mouth slams down into yours right as he thrusts fully into your already raw, aching pussy without warning, and you’re already on the brink of another orgasm. You’re so full, and Ben’s right up against that deepest spot, and his kisses are bruising but his hands on your skin are so careful, and he tastes like salt and vanilla and Ben-

Then he starts to move, and it’s a miracle you can still breathe. His hips snap, skin slapping against yours and cock hammering into your abused and weeping cunt, and you’re scratching at his skin and grinding into his movements but it’s still not enough. It might never be enough. You might be able to die here, with Ben deep inside you, with his own hunger and need so powerful he’s only groaning into your ear, any praise low and slurred.

“Feel so fucking good,” Ben rolls his hips as he hits that spongey spot inside you, and you whine. “So tight, Sunshine, so tight and warm and good, fucking perfect, so fucking pretty and good and perfect-“

You squeeze around him, and his head falls to your brow, his movements becoming rough and uneven.

“Best fucking pussy in the goddamn world, you’re, fuck, fucking love you, want to fucking live here, want to fucking worship this perfect fucking pussy until you’re fucking ruined-“

You’re already ruined. Ben’s stretching you out and fucking you so good you can only stare at him and take it with the hope that he can feel all of your thirst and need for him. You think he can, because you whimper a sound that’s meant to be his name, and Ben’s mouth returns to yours. This kiss is almost gentle. Passionate and deep with Ben’s tongue down your throat and your mouth hanging open for him to take whatever he wants, but laced with pure love and edged with how he’s rutting into you like a dog.

Then one of his hands glides between your bodies, over your stomach, and between your legs. Two strong fingers pinch at your clit, and you might have died and been reborn in the same moment as you cum, dragging Ben with you. You’re high on him, on his growls and groans down your throat as his stuttered movements as he fucks you through your orgasms. Everything is warm and hazy and Ben, and all you can remember how to do is lay there, breathe, and smile.

Ben brushes hair from your face, his ring cool on your skin, and his eyes are carving right into the deep, most delicate part of you. A part of him you always offer him, and a part he always keeps safe and tended to.

You’re-

I’m good. Your smile widens, and you manage to raise your hands up to cup Ben’s face. Really, really good.  

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and rolling you both over. “Fuck,” Ben presses a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing patterns on your skin as you shift above him. “I love you, Sunshine. More than goddamn anything.”

“I know.” And you do. If you’re sure of anything, you’re sure Ben loves you. That he’s yours just as much as you’re his. That you could give him everything, and he’d still find a way to give you more. “I love you too.”

You lay there for a moment, just inhaling Ben and letting him settle into a strong, pious hum in your chest. You drift off into an easy sleep that hardly feels like a blink, and when you wake up there’s light leaking through the windows and a massive weight over your body.

It’s always a little amusing when he does this. When, somehow, without fail, Ben manages to roll on top of you almost every night. Wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face between your breasts, and snoring so loud it rolls through your bones. It would be a miracle you ever got any sleep, but he’s also warm and safe and touching you so carefully you’d never choose to be anywhere else.

You’re careful not to wake him as you twist to check the time, and any sleep vanishes from your body as you read the little number on the clock.

“Ben.” You hiss, shaking him slightly above you. “Benjamin.”

He makes a low grumbling sound, tightening his grip around you and tugging himself impossibly closer to your body. 

“Benjamin, wake up, we’re, shit-” You give up on trying to wake him gently, grabbing his face between your hands and raising it level with yours. “Ben!”

Ben grunts, and it’s the grunt that means you’ve got him. His hands start to knead slow patterns on your hips, his eyes still drooping as he yawns, and it would be the most adorable thing you’d ever seen if he wasn’t being so slow.

“What the fuck is going on.” He grumbles, slowly scanning over you with a small frown that turns urgent when he sees the wide-eyed expression on your face. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You pull him up to kiss his nose, and that seems to ease the hot, vigilant fury in his body back to concrete protection wrapped easily around your skin. “I’m good, my love. But we’re late.”

Ben scowls. “Late to-“

“Butcher’s.” You give him a pointed look. “Ryan.”

“Fuck, what time-“ Ben pushes himself up on his arms to read the clock, and drops himself back down with a scowl. “We’re not fucking late, Sunshine, we’ve got an hour-“

“Which for us is basically ten minutes-“

“It’s a fucking hour-“

“Benjamin.” You grab his face back between your hands, raising your brows slightly. “Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you think we’ll be able to wake up, get dressed, grab gifts, and drive to Butcher’s all in an hour? And-“ You roll your hips slightly, Ben’s proud morning wood poking into your thigh. “Keep in mind I might be willing to help you with your problem if you’re honest.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but there’s a glow over his ribs and rough affection rooted deep in his muscles when he sits up, hauling you to flop onto his chest. “Brat,” he mutters pulling you into a long, slow kiss that makes your brain happy and fuzzy, and doesn’t help the situation at all. “Butcher knows we’ll be late. Told him to tell Ryan whatever time you told him, plus an extra hour.”

You blink at him for a second, then shove his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that-“

“Because,” he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You thought we had an hour, got us up early as shit, and now we have all the goddamn time in the world for you to help me with my problem.”

You wish he wasn’t right. That he wasn’t such a stupidly good husband, that you could at least pretend to maintain the illusion of being shrouded in mystery, having some sort of intriguing allure to him. But he also doesn’t seem to really fucking care about that. Ben seems to be more than happy knowing all of you, because there’s a wide, smug grin on his face and a radiance pounding in his chest that’s golden and molten and folds you into him without resistance. Ben doesn’t want allure, and you can’t really find it in yourself to really want it either. Not when he starts to squeeze your ass and suck on your neck until you’re moaning and squirming in his arms. Not when he does know you, so painfully fucking well, that he gets you to cum three times before you’re out of bed. Once his fingers and twice on his cock, throwing in a fourth when you’re half-dressed and he backs you up against the wall, pressing his knee between your thighs and watching you chase relief with an ardor and devotion in his blood and a look of awe in his eyes.

After that you have to make a no sex for the rest of the day rule, giving him a stern glare he shrugs off as you shuffle off to take your second shower and Ben sets out all the gifts for inventory. 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed when you get back, frowning at the bags before him. 

“We’re missing three,” he grunts as you join him, hanging slightly off his arm as you scan over the bed. “Should be seven.”

You shake your head. “No, this is right. You said one of Ryan’s was too big to transport, and I dropped the Secret Santa gifts off with Ryan last night.”

Ben pauses, still glowering at the bed, then nods and starts to grab as much as he can hold—which is all of it—to move to the car, pressing a kiss to your brow before vanishing through the door.

You don’t get to drive. Ben grabs the keys while you’re in Ryan’s room, feeding Bowser, and the asshole is standing at the car with a smirk when you stomp outside. You’d push him on it more, but you’ve never been more okay with not driving in your life. Everything is a blur of cold white, the pavement coated in black ice, and you hate the winter. No amount of stupid holidays are ever going to be able to fix how much you hate the winter. It’s too sterile, too blinding, too cold. So fucking cold.

And Ben knows that. It’s why his grip on your thigh is firmer than usual, his speed a little reckless to get you out of the car that’s heated, but still too cold. Metal that bites your skin and glass that still radiates a chill when your skin gets too close to it. Which that means you can just talk to Ben, and pretend there’s not cracks on your skull that open up a little more when you’re frozen. 

“MM said he’ll be there early as well,” you hum, playing with Ben’s hand between your own. “He’s heading up to New York to see his daughter tonight, but he wants to make sure his gift gets given.”

Ben grunts. “You know who his is?”

“No, Ben, because it’s a secret-“

“Stupid fucking secret.” He grumbles, glowering at the road. “You’re never going to tell me what your damn surprise was-“

“Not if you keep bringing it up.” You smile at him, dropping your head on his shoulder. “Then it won’t really be a surprise. You’ll be ready for it.”

Ben frowns. “So it’s for me.”

“Obviously.”

“But not your Santa shit.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop a wide, stupid grin from overtaking your face. “Not my Santa shit. And don’t ask me who my person is-“

“Don’t have to.” Ben shrugs, parking on the curb outside Butcher’s apartment. “It’s fucking Hughie.”

You only hum. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out with everyone else in two hours.”

Ben rolls his eyes, climbing out the car and carefully guiding you upstairs with an arm around your shoulders. Ryan’s waiting for you when you knock on the door, dragging you into a hug before you can even really see him. 

“Merry Christmas!” Ryan moves to Ben, and you giggle at the low grunt that escapes Ben’s mouth from the force of the hug. “Do you-“

“Brought all the gifts.” Ben says, giving Butcher a curt nod over Ryan’s head. “In the car. I’ll go back down-“

“Nah, Gov. I’ve got it.” Butcher moves to the door, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder as he passes by. It shoots something sore, but not rotten or painful, through your body, and there’s an edge of something still and quiet over it. It’s like rest, where Butcher had previously be hateful and bloodied, and it’s better than most anything you’ve felt from him before.

Ben and Butcher exchange low words about getting the gifts as Ryan shuffles over to your side, and when Ben starts to feel hot and loud in your chest you clear your throat, raising your brows at them.

“What if you both get them?” You try to hide the slightly amusement in your voice, and you don’t really succeed. “That couldn’t hurt.”

There’s a moment where they both look like they’re going to protest, but MM’s voice calls from somewhere deeper in the apartment, cutting them off. “Both you alpha male motherfuckers better go get the gifts, or you’re not eating my goddamn delicious gingerbread!”

It works. Ben and Butcher shuffle out the door with low grumbles like they’re teenage boys being sent to their room for bad behavior, and you smile down at Ryan, letting him guide you into the kitchen.

MM gives you a mumbled greeting—mostly focused on the food and not letting anyone interrupt his process—as Ryan tugs you over to Butcher’s table, where a large gingerbread house is on display in the center.

“Look!” He gestures proudly, and your smile might consume your face. “Isn’t it cool! Butcher did all the crackers, but I did everything else. And you can eat it. All of it.”

You nod, and pretend to inspect the house like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever seen. It might be. “Did you use-“

“Licorice!” Ryan points to the roof, lined with black licorice. “They’re gutters. It was MM’s idea, he said houses need drainage.”

You shoot MM an amused look over your shoulder. “Drainage?”

“You ever dealt with water damage?”

“No,” you shrug. “But this is the first time I’ve ever owned a house.”

“Fuck, that’s right.” MM frowns. “Ben teaching you all the shit about upkeep-“

You nod, even if it’s not the full truth. Ben will guide you outside to point at the roof and ask you why should we be worried about that, Sunshine, and you’ll offer an answer that’s usually correct, and he’ll tell you how to fix it. But then he fixes it, because you’re not really good at it and he always grumbles that your hands shouldn’t be dirty. If you really want to know he’ll just break whatever was wrong again and let you fix it yourself, but he tends to hover—big and warm around you, muscles flexing and face so ruggedly handsome covered in grease and dirt—and you just end up almost fucking in broad daylight. And it doesn’t really matter, because you love watching Ben do stupid, domestic shit like that. Fixing your house, that you live in and own with him, that he wants to take care of because that’s taking care of you and Ryan.

When Ben and Butcher return, you think that might be why you love the sight of him with three boxes in his arms—Butcher scowling behind him with only one—and a little snow still melting in his hair. It’s so easy and normal and boring, but still Ben. Still full of the wrathful, focused love he’s always had when he dumps the gifts on Butcher’s couch and pulls you into his arms for a deep, heavy kiss that makes your head spin and your knees shake, but now lined with something easier. Something that’s set so deeply in it’s barely noticeable, but that you can feel in yourself as well. Comfort. Real comfort seeped into your heart because there’s no fear it’s going to be taken away. Nothing could ever take this—take Ben—away from you. Nothing could ever even dare to try.

Ryan bounces over to the gifts, sorting through them with a bright-eyed focus and pulling out one that you know is for Ben, and another that you assume is for Butcher. He shuffles up to you wide a wide, nervous expression, his voice soft when he says your name. 

“I, um, I did get you something. But it’s at home. I can wait, or tell you now-“

“Do you want to wait or tell me now?” You ask, giving Ryan a soft smile that seems to ease some of his anxiety, because his voice becomes a little more confident.

“Tell you now.”

You nod in encouragement, and Ryan swallows.

“It’s a bush. A butterfly bush. They, um, attract butterflies? And Ben helped me pick it out, and he said we should get the pink one. They’re kind of easy to take care of, I think, but-“

You pull Ryan into a long, firm hug, cutting off his spiraling. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you’ve never really meant it more. “I love it, Ry. Really.”

Ryan seems to believe you, because he squeezes you tighter and grins before moving to Ben, standing tall and silent at your side. 

“This is for you,” he passes Ben the larger of the two boxes, and turns to Butcher. “And you.”

They both grunt thanks, and you don’t both to hide your smile as you watch Ben open his. Ryan had come to you with the idea a few weeks ago, and you’d bought it the next day because it was an amazing idea. You’d known that because you know Ben, but if there was any phantom doubt inside you it’s erased when he flares in your body, and you know he’s seen the gift.

“Fucking Christ,” he mutters, and that’s a positive fucking Christ. That’s the one where he thinks what he’s seeing is a little too good, and can’t really believe his eyes. “Ryan, you got this for me?”

Ryan says your name, rolling on his feet as he watches Ben with wide eyes. “Um, she bought it. But it was my idea. Do you like it-“

“I fucking love it.” Ben mutters, and Ryan looks like he might burst with pride. You might burst with pride, because Ben whole existence in your body is just unrestrained, furious joy. His hands are so careful as he pulls out the refurbished Gramophone, glossy and bronze, complete with the stupid horn. You don’t own any vinyl’s right now, but you’ll find some. For the look of child-like joy on Ben’s face, you’ll buy a whole record store. He’s not crying, but there’s a look of softness that’s glazing over his eyes, his voice is a little hoarse, and you know it’s the closest you’ll get right now. “Good work, kid,” he mutters, running a hand over the polished wood. “Really fucking good.”

Ryan nods, shifting slightly on his feet, and you’re about to kick Ben’s shin in a silent reminder when he sets the gift down and opens his arms, pulling Ryan into a hug you’re sure would kill anyone else, but just makes Ryan’s smile wider and whole body relax. 

Butcher clears his throat, holding about five Hawaiian shirts in his hands. “I like mine too,” he mutters. “Nice fuckin shirts. Good material-“

Ryan grabs Butcher in an equally rib-breaking hug, and there’s only a brief moment of shock on the man’s face before he returns it. Ben takes the moment to grab his and your gift for Ryan, waiting until Butcher’s released to all but shove them into Ryan’s hands. 

“From me,” Ben point to one box, then the other. “From her.”

Ryan nods, dropping onto the couch as he opens Ben’s first. He’s barely halfway through carefully peeling the paper when a third one gets added to the pile, dropped by Butcher.

“Got a few more,” Butcher mutters. “Mostly just some of your mums old shit. Neuman got it with the Vought raids, should be fuckin yours anyway.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Ryan swallows, and when you pull away from Ben to sit at his side, he’s filled with an aching, heavy grief in his lungs, but a little lighter in his heart. And it’ll be like that for a while. But it’s better than even a month ago, and that’s more than enough for you.

Butcher grunts, making a loose nod for Ryan to continue on Ben’s gift, and you don’t have to look up to know Ben’s moved behind the couch. Only a second later his hand on your shoulder as he leans down to kiss the top of your head, and you hold him there as Ryan finally discards all the wrapping paper. 

“It’s built for people like us,” Ben explains as Ryan pulls out a brand-new, firm baseball glove. “Had Frenchie make it, so it shouldn’t fucking break or tear like that pussy shit at the school. Got it a few sizes too large, so you can grow into it.”

“Thank, Ben.” Ryan whispers, giving Ben a wide, toothy grin that you feel spark and glow in Ben’s chest. “I love it.”

Ben grunts as Ryan turns to Butcher’s gift, and you lean backwards to give him an amused smile.

Are you abusing Frenchie’s services? First my books, now Ryan’s glove-

I just fucking asked, Ben glares at you, his mouth tugging slightly upwards. Not my fault the pussy said yes.

Okay. You give him a look of fake, overly sweet innocence. Whatever you say, Benjamin, my love.

He rolls his eyes, running his thumb over your knuckles. Brat.

Cunt. You return your attention to Ryan, watching Butcher with wide eyes as he explains how the book in Ryan’s hands was one of Becca’s favorites, and that there hadn’t been a copy in the boxes Neuman turned over. Ryan’s nodding, looking happier and happier by the second, and when he finally turns to the last gift—your gift—you think your nail might be trying to break into your skin. He’ll love the gift. You’re pretty sure he’ll love the gift. You’re usually pretty good at gifts, but you kind of have a cheat-code with Ben, and there’s a slim chance you might have gotten Ryan’s wrong-

Ryan lets out a small gasp when he opens the box, and it sounds good. His excitement looks real. But it might not be. What if it’s not-

Breathe, Sunshine. Ben mutters in your head, squeezing his hand against you. Look at him, he fucking loves it.

He does look like he loves it. Ryan’s holding the Kindle in light hands, his mouth slightly open and his eyes shining as he turns to you. 

“I put some books on it already,” you say, leaning around him to turn the device on, trying not to be knocked out by the sheer fucking happiness in Ryan’s body. “And we can buy more. You’re allowed to take it to school, and keep it in your room, but you do still need sleep-”

Ryan sets the kindle carefully on his lap, and pulls you into a long, tight hug. His head buried in your chest, his arms around your waist, his strength obviously controlled enough not to snap you in half.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your shirt. “And I promise I’ll still sleep.”

You huff a small laugh, squeezing him back. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Ry.”

Everyone else arrives not long after that. You’re not entirely sure why you’d all agreed to do this at Butcher’s, because no one seems to really be benefiting—It’s loud enough that Ryan shuffles off to his room to read, busy enough that Butcher’s always shouting at someone not to touch something, and crowded enough that you’re all a little on top of each other—but you’re all here, and that’s what matters. You’re curled into Ben’s lap on one side of the couch, Hughie and Annie on the other sie, Butcher glaring at you all from his chair as Frenchie and Kimiko sit cross legged on the floor. There’s no talk of death or pain or blood, only sharing old stories about previous Christmases—Butcher once had to play baby Jesus in the naivety, and he doesn’t seem to find that half as funny as you do—and talking about the easier parts of work. Frenchie’s missing an eyebrow because of a flamethrower incident. Annie got to yell at someone in Singer’s cabinet last week. Ben broke the printer again.

Again? You grin at him, and he scowls.

It’s a stupid fucking machine, why design something with so many goddamn buttons that doesn’t even work half the time-

Benjamin, how many times have you broken the printer? 

There’s a pause, and then, Twelve.

You gape at him slightly, Holy shit, Ben, just let Kimiko print things-

I fucking do, but she can be busy, and I’m not just going to sit on my goddamn ass like a fucking pussy-

You pull him down into a long, soft kiss, opening for him when he presses his tongue on your lower lip, humming when his hands resume their slow patterns on your thighs.

Grumpy. You whisper between your head, and Ben snorts.

Shut the fuck up, Sunshine, you-

“We’re eating in 20,” MM’s voice cuts through the air, and when you pull away from Ben he’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed. “Let’s do the gift shit now, so I can get on the road right after.”

Everyone nods, and slowly makes their way back to Butcher’s table, cluttered with the Secret Santa gifts. You all sort through them, passing each other the bags and boxes tagged with your names and holding onto them until you’ve all sat, gifts in your laps.

“I guess, uh,” Hughie looks around the group, scratching the back of his neck. “We can just go in a circle? MM, do you want to-“

MM grunts an agreement, not waiting any further before he carefully removes the paper from his bag, sets it off the side, and pulls out two paper tickets. 

“Children’s science museum.” He reads off of them aloud, looking around the group with a frown before settling on you, and grunting your name.

You shake your head. “No, but that does sound like something I’d do. Are they-“

“For the Boston one,” MM mutters, scanning over the rest of the group. “Annie?”

She nods, a wide smile breaking over her face. “That’s supposed to be the best one on this coast, I thought you could take Janine while you’ve got her for the new year.”

“She’d like that,” MM mutters, giving Annie a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Butcher clears his throat, making it clear that he’s next, and you realize that—if you keep going in a circle—you’ll be penultimate, and Ben will be going last. Good. It’ll help.

Butcher’s not nearly as careful with his packaging as MM was, tossing the bag’s paper aside without thought and freezing slightly when he sees what’s inside. His glare shoots to Hughie, who’s watching with a slightly red face.

“This you, lad?”

“Uh, no-“

“MM?”

MM shakes his head, and Butcher glowers around the rest of the table. Frenchie and Kimiko seem to take pity on him, shaking their heads and leaving Butcher’s scowl on you and Ben. You give a half-hearted shrug and jerk of your head to Ben, and Butcher scoffs.

“Ain’t no bleedin way it’s the old cunt.” Butcher glares at Ben, who tilts his chin up and tenses at your side. “I don’t believe it-“

“Start believing it, you fucking pussy.” Ben snaps. “Tell her you’re welcome.”

Ben nods to you, and you sigh. If you’re being honest, you’d seen this coming. But you still have to pretend to be annoyed with Ben and act like you’re not completely turned on by the way he’s rubbing your thigh, filled with love and pride, and holding you against him like you’re the most important thing in the world. You have to glare at him, and sell the act that you don’t want to grab his stupid handsome face—glowering at Butcher like he can’t believe the man’s nerve—and kiss him until he groans, pins you to the table, and fucks you stupid.

“What do you mean thank her,” MM looks between you and Ben with a narrowed gaze. “Which one of you got Butcher the gift-“

“I did.” You mumble, giving MM an apologetic grimace. “But it was Ben’s name. He told me though, I didn’t ask, and he doesn’t know mine-“

“What is it?” Hughie leans over Butcher, frowning at the bag. “A dog collar?”

“I found Terror.” You explain, chewing the inside of your cheek until it might bleed. “There should be a card in there as well, with a number. You can call it and get him back, if you want. If not it’s just kind of, uh, a dog collar.”

“Ah.” Butcher looks between the collar, now in his hand, and the bag, his words a little lower than before as he turns back to you, something flashing in his eyes that might be a real, good emotion. “Thanks.”

Everyone seems to forgive Ben for breaking the rules immediately—you don’t think they had a lot of faith in him to begin with, which you’d be angrier about if they hadn’t been so entirely correct—and move on to Hughie, but you whack Ben’s chest, glaring up at him.

What the fuck, Benjamin.

It was a good fucking gift, Sunshine, you deserve the credit-

I didn’t care about the credit, dummy.

Well, I fucking do. Ben presses a kiss on the space between your eyes, right where it’s wrinkled from your glower. They should be thanking you all the damn time. 

You wrinkle your nose at him, but smile when his lips move down to your own, the kiss sweet and gentle, letting you sit in the taste of coffee and strawberries in his mouth, drown in the best possible way in Ben, warm and strong and all around you.

When you look back to the group, Hughie’s holding a small, strange device in his hands, having already made his guess and frowning at Frenchie’s explanation.

“Petite Hughie, you are not understanding. You can listen to Billy Joel entire catalogue of music, all on this!”

“So it’s, uh,” Hughie glances down at the device, shoved into his hands. “An iPod?”

“Non, it is a Billy Joel Musical Player.”

“Oh.” Hughie nods slowly, and you and Annie exchange a wide-eyed expression of we can’t laugh. You don’t succeed—breaking out into muffled giggles, Hughie shooting you both glares as he pats Frenchie nervously on the shoulder—but it’s the effort that counts.

After that, with slightly more limited options, it goes a little faster. Butcher got Annie tickets to a pop concert, insisting that she takes photos of Hughie looking awkward and nervous. Frenchie opens his bag to find only a key, and—after guessing Kimiko twice—learns that MM got him a large amount of completely illegal chemicals from questionable sources, only asking that Frenchie try not to murder anyone. Frenchie just shrugs, but before MM can demand a more solid no murder promise, Kimiko is ripping into her own bag, pulling out two Broadway tickets, and pointing to you with a wide smile. When you shake your head her attention moves to Hughie, who nods and tentatively signs that he tried to have them for Decembruary, but they don’t do singing until Walk, and he’ll pay for their sleeping.

That leaves you and Ben. You raise your brows at Kimiko, having done the math, and she gives you a bright smile, gesturing to the bag in your hand as he signs. Open it!

You nod, and find a disgusting wad of cash and sheet of paper with I promise I can cover written out in slightly uneven letters, signatures from Kimiko, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie at the bottom. Ben frowns as he reads it over your shoulder, and when you look up to Kimiko with raised brows, her smile grows. 

You and Ben never got a real honeymoon. She gestures, and you feel Ben tense slightly at your side. You think he recognized his name. I didn’t know where you’d want to go, so I just gave you money for it. We’re going to cover you at work, and you can finally do that.

You don’t bother to put the card down when you pull Kimiko into a long, tight hug, basking in the genuine, bright sensation that’s in her hands and teeth when you touch. Affection for just you, and something that’s a little more wired, but still warm, for Ben. 

“Thank you,” you whisper in her ear, squeezing her once. “That’s amazing, Kimiko. Thank you so much.”

Kimiko just hugs you back—hard enough to bruise if you could be bruised—and Ben’s hand snakes onto your back, rubbing up your spine with warm, careful hands.

What the fuck is it.

I’ll tell you later. You pull back from Kimiko with one last smile, returning your gaze to Ben with a joy you know he must feel, because it’s too big to be kept in your blood. Open your gift, Ben.

He grunts, glaring around the table, and you know the exact moment it hit him. He sits a little taller, his hand stilling on your body, and something golden bursts and sings in his chest. 

You had fucking Hughie. 

Did I? You make a dramatic look of fake thought, unable to contain the grin on your face. I thought Frenchie did?

Ben’s eyes narrow on yours. Did you fucking rig it-

Me?! You gape at him, your smile full on idiotic now. Rig something? Benjamin, how dare you even imply-

He snorts, leaning down to pull you into a teasing, too-chaste kiss. Brat. 

Cunt. Your reply is a little weak in your head, most of your mind focused on Ben’s hands, opening the box with your gift inside. Ben, wait, I’m going have to explain it-

Ben pulls out the shirt, frowning at the bright words over the graphic of genetic, vanilla ice cream in a cone. “Bassets Ice- Fuck, this place is still open?”

MM frowns. “What place.”

Ben turns the shirt for MM to read, his eyes still on you. “Why the fuck did you get me an ice cream shirt.”

“All dad’s should have weird brand-shirts, Benjamin.” You mumble, leaning a little into his side. “It’s a hallmark. My father had a sriracha shirt.”

MM nods off to the side. “Hasbro.” 

“Ford.” Hughie adds, frowning into the air. “My dad didn’t even like cars.”

“See?” You gesture around the table, suddenly slightly nervous he won’t like it. He has to like it. If Ben doesn’t like it, you watched five hours of old Solider Boy interviews—watched Ben not be Ben, wearing that stupid helmet and grinning at the camera in a way you know is fake—for nothing. “And it’s, um, it’s not just the shirt-“

Ben grunts your name in your head, drawing a firm pattern on your thigh. Calm the fuck down. If it’s just a shirt, it’s a damn good shirt-

It’s date! You blurt, grabbing his hand and keeping it pressed on your skin. You said in the 50s that Bassets was your favorite ice cream shop growing up, and you didn’t say it like you said all the other lies, so I thought maybe that it was true and we could go get some ice cream there or something. And then, um, just kind of fuck around? Whatever you want, it’s your date, and it doesn’t have to be ice cream-

Ben, in an act of mercy, wraps an arm fully around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, kissing you long and heavy and deep until you’re slack against him, your arms around his neck and your whole body filled with only Ben’s thunderous love. 

It’ll be ice cream, he mutters in your head, squeezing the skin of your hips. And we can always fuck around, Sunshine. 

Horny- You swallow down a moan when his hand moves to your ass, only vaguely aware of your friends, now faded into the background. Horny old cunt-

I fucking hope so, darling, I’ve got a perfect wife who needs to be fucked stupid later-

MM clears his throat, and you pull away from Ben with a high, slightly whining gasp. “You two either get a room,” he mutters. “Or stop fucking Frenching each other at the goddamn table. Where we’re about to eat.”

You flush, mumbling an apology as you push off of Ben to go get Ryan, pretending you can’t feel the hot, cocky pride and hunger in Ben’s body that feels like another promise. 

Dinner is quick and easy. The rest of the night is quick and easy. MM put together a feast that could probably feed twenty people, but over half the table is made up of supes, so there are only clean plates with no leftovers. MM rolls his eyes, grumbles about being surrounded by a bunch of animals, and leaves for New York with tight hugs and firm nods. From there, it’s all drinks that only send a slight buzz of warmth through your body—Frenchie tells you he spiked yours and Ben’s, the fact that you can feel anything at all likely a sign that he may have just used straight crack—and a game of poker that devolves into threats, cursing and near-injury remarkably fast. You fold quickly, joining Ryan in the corner as he reads, and as the day creeps on into night you’re mostly just happy. Ryan’s slumping slightly at your side, your hand in his hair as you watch Ben call a pale-faced Hughie a pussy-assed lying motherfucker for the fifth time that game, and lose the game for the seventh time tonight.

And it’s easy. Hughie doesn’t flinch at Ben’s words, and Ryan doesn’t cower at the raised voice. He just yawns, eyes drooping slightly, and keeps trying to read when you can feel the daze of sleep creeping over his brain. 

You look up at Ben—glowering at Butcher as he deals the next hand—and he must feel your eyes because he turns in barely a moment.

What- Ben’s eyes land on Ryan, his frown deepening slightly, and looks back to you in a silent question you’ll always understand.

I’m okay, but I think I’d like to go home. You mumble between your heads, fighting a yawn of your own. You can finish the game though-

Ben shoots to his feet, and before you even know what’s happening he’s at your side, scooping a completely asleep Ryan up in his arms. 

“We’re leaving,” he says to no one in particular, glaring around the room at the scattered gifts and down to Ryan in his arms. “One of you pussies-“

“I’ll get the gifts,” you stand up, blinking away sleepiness from your eyes. “Annie, could you please start the car for us? It’s cold and I don’t want Ryan to wake up-“

Annie nods, grabbing Ben’s keys from the table and pulling Hughie with her out the door. Ben doesn’t fight you as you gather the gifts into one bag, but you can feel him tracking your every move, waiting for you to so much as stumble so he can insist you let him carry everything. But when Hughie returns—saying Annie’s waiting by the car—you’re on steady feet, and every good night is a warm hug, soft joke, and smile. Even Butcher lets you give him a strange, uncoordinated side-hug and nods at Ben with a respect that doesn’t seem forced. 

Downstairs, Annie gives you one last hug as Ben loads Ryan into the car, and the night is done. The drive home is short, Ben not helping your bid to remain awake by rubbing your thigh and humming something that you think is supposed to be a lullaby, low and off-key. He’s a little faster than you are, somehow getting Ryan and the gifts, opening the door, and refusing to walk upstairs until you’re clinging to his arm.

Get in bed, Sunshine, he mutters, kissing the top of your head outside your room. I’ll be there soon. 

You nod, shuffling through the door and not bothering with the dresser. You shed your clothing like they’re poison on your skin, pull on one of Ben’s shirts—cast thoughtlessly onto the bed—and crawl between the sheets to wait for him to return, wallowing in the smell of pine until he does.

He frowns when he sees you, his words low and stern. “You need to fucking sleep, darling-“

“No.” You shake your head, reaching for him a little pathetically. “Need you. More gifts.”

Ben shakes his head, pulling off his shirt as he joins you, a slight smirk on his stupid, handsome, amazing face. “You need me,” he drawls your name, and your thighs squeeze together slightly. “You have more perfect shit to give me-“

“Shut up,” you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. Maybe I do have more shit to give you-

“Good. I have more shit to give you,” Ben mutters, tugging lightly on your hair until you meet his gaze. “And I’m first.” 

You’re too tired to argue, so you let Ben shift you fully over his body, twisting your head to watch him reach into his bedside drawer and pull out two tickets.

“Everyone’s getting tickets,” you mumble, letting Ben pass them into your hands. “Are we going to see Frozen off Broadway?”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the fuck a Frozen is. These are for the opera.”

You blink at him, unsure if you heard correctly, and when you speak your voice is small. “The opera?”

Ben grunts an affirmation. “The internet said this one has cannons. And after they’re going to let us have the whole place, and you can sing, or we can dance or just fuck, but we’re not allowed to break shit or they’ll sue us.”

You want to kiss him. You want to pull his tongue into your mouth until he can’t ever stop tasting you, and let him push himself inside you until you’re melded together for the rest of time. But if you start that now you’ll never give him your gift, and it suddenly feels incredibly critical Ben sees your gift now.

“Do you want to know what my secret was?” You whisper, and something sparks in Ben’s chest.

“So it was a fucking secret-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Do you want to know or not, Benjamin-“

“Know.” He grumbles. “What the fuck was it-“

“Open my drawer.” You nod lazily to your bedside table, a little too drunk on Ben to move. “Please.”

He snorts, shaking his head, and any grumble of never having to fucking ask him please dies when he opens the drawer and sees what’s inside. 

“How the fuck…” Ben trails off, and you’ve never been more grateful for being able to sense his emotions than you are now. He’s reduced to silence because his love has turned to a roar in his body, and his head seems a little light from the raw joy and confusion clouding his skull.

“I got some old government files,” your voice is soft, scanning over Ben’s slack expression carefully. “Found your childhood home. Then I, um, I visited it and asked what they did with the old owners possessions. They said the government took a lot of it, so I made Neuman tell me where they were stored. I was, I was going through all the boxes, and I found that. And I’m just, I think I’m ready. Soon. When you are.���

Ben’s love becomes almost primal in your chest, but he still doesn’t look away from the baby blanket. His old baby blanket. Pastel green and soft, somehow not moth-ridden and unraveling, so small in Ben’s massive hand.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You’re sure.”

You nod, swallowing slightly. “I’m sure. I’ve been sure.” You trail your fingers over Ben’s beard, offering him a small smile when his attention returns. “I’m always sure of you, my love.”

That seems to be enough for Ben. He sets the blanket down with heartbreaking gentleness, and brings his lips to yours in a painfully loving and devout kiss. He doesn’t deepen it—even as his hunger becomes primal—only rubbing patterns on the back of your thighs and grinning against your mouth.

“If Ryan wasn’t asleep down the hall,” he growls into your mouth, igniting a heat in your lower gut. “We’d get started right fucking now. But,” he pulls your upper lip between his teeth, smirking at your soft moan. “I waited a hundred goddamn years for this, for you.” Ben says your name like it’s holy, and you can only grind weakly against him. “I can wait a few more nights.”

You nod, pulling away to give him a nervous smile. “So yes?”

“Fucking yes.” He grins, pulling you back into him. This kiss quicker, but filled with more undying heat and need, and it leaves you a little dizzy when he pulls away. “For you, darling, it’s always fucking yes.”

“Oh.” Sleep starts to catch you again, and you begin to sink fully into Ben. Warm and big and strong and Ben. “Good.”

“Damn right,” Ben grumbles, helping you squirm back down his chest. “I fucking love you. I’d have to have lost my goddamn mind to tell you no.”

“I love you too,” you hum, a little too lost in Ben to say much else. “Merry Christmas-“

“I think Christmas is fucking over, beautiful-“

“It’s not midnight,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Take my Merry Christmas, Benjamin.”

Ben chuckles, running a hand through your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”'

End Note: Happy Holidays Squad!!! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the pure fluff and smut of this miniseries!! See you soon!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @ej13928

@deansbbyx @generalmoonpolice

[puppy-steve]

the night before christmas

steddie | wc: 1,377 | cw: none | emma's pov | ao3

emma gets to meet a very special someone

originally written and posted for steddiemas 2023

The house is silent, save for the clock ticking on the mantle in the living room, dimly lit by the Christmas tree in front of the window, covered in different colored lights and handmade ornaments—some from decades long since passed, family heirlooms handed down, and some more recent. Little ceramic handprints and popsicle picture frames. Reindeer and gingerbread men painted with a toddler's unsteady hand.

The plate of cookies and the glass of milk remain untouched as the occupants of the house sleep soundly in their beds with dreams of sugar plum fairies dancing through their heads.

Snow falls outside in fat flakes, covering everything in a cold, heavy blanket and there's not a soul in sight. It's the night before Christmas and everyone is eagerly awaiting morning to come to see what Santa brought them.

But someone is about to find out ahead of schedule.

Tucked all snug and warm in her bed, five year old Emma Munson snaps awake at the sound of a clatter coming from downstairs.

—

The carpeted runner muffles her footsteps as she carefully walks down the hallway. She can see a light on in the living room from the top of the stairs and she gasps quietly as she crouches down and looks between the bars of the banister.

A lamp is turned on, illuminating a figure dressed in red and white putting presents under the tree.

As quietly as she can, Emma makes her way down the stairs. She doesn’t know if this will put her on the Naughty List or not, but she might not ever get this chance again in her whole life.

“Santa?”

Santa’s hat gets caught on the tree when he jumps in surprise. He struggles with it for a second before fixing it on his head and slowly turning around. He doesn’t look like the Santa in the picture books on her bookshelf, but Emma remembers her daddies telling her that nobody has ever actually seen Santa before so they’re just drawing what they think he looks like.

He’s not round like people say he is, but he’s tall. Almost as tall as her daddies. She doesn’t feel as anxious as before. Her daddies are tall and they make her feel safe, so it has to be the same way with Santa.

With that thought in her head, she takes a confident step forward, wringing her hands in her pajama top nervously.

“Are you really Santa?”

Santa looks a little surprised, like no one has ever asked him that before. After a second, he sits on the coffee table with a light chuckle and pats his knee with a soft look in his twinkling brown eyes.

Emma doesn’t hesitate to run over and climb into his lap, looking up at him in awe.

His beard is as white as the snow outside and soft to the touch. He gives her the same look her daddy Eddie does before he scoops her up and makes her squeal and laugh with kisses all over her face, all soft and happy.

Yeah, it’s definitely the same way with Santa.

“Are you really Emma Louise Munson?” Santa asks kindly, mirth shining in his eyes.

Emma gasps. “How do you know my name?”

Santa laughs again. “Because I’m Santa Claus. How else would I know your name or where you live?”

Emma scrunches her nose and pushes up her glasses. They’re too big for her face still but daddy Steve says she’ll grow into them. She thinks for a minute and then that nervousness returns.

“If you’re the real Santa, does that mean I’m on the Naughty List now and you’ll take my presents away?” she asks in a small voice.

“Of course not, swe–” Santa cuts himself off but he rubs her back comfortingly, like her daddy Eddie does when she’s sad. “I don’t put kids on the Naughty List just for being awake. Here, I’ll tell you what.”

He lifts her off his lap and guides her over to the tree, crouching down in front of it. He picks up a smaller present that’s wrapped in red and white paper with little candy canes all over it. “I’ll let you open one early as a treat.” He boops her on the nose with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “As long as you keep it our little secret.”

Emma nods excitedly, her curls bouncing. “Yeah!” she says, a little too loudly, and apologizes when Santa gently hushes her. “Don’t worry, Santa, I’m a great secret keeper. You can ask my best friend, Caleb. One time he spilled red paint on his mom’s white purse and he didn’t want to get in trouble so he said the cat did it.”

Santa raises his eyebrows as she speaks and Emma’s eyes go wide when she realizes she just told Santa Claus the biggest secret she’s ever kept. “Oops. I shouldn’t have said that,” she says quietly.

“Probably not,” Santa says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “But that’s alright, I still trust you to keep our secret.” He motions to the gift in her hands. “Go ahead, open it.”

Emma doesn’t hold back as she excitedly tears at the wrapping paper. She gasps so hard she’s afraid she’ll need her inhaler, but Santa must really be magic because she doesn’t. She gapes down at the pack of modeling clay she remembers putting in her letter to Santa.

“You remembered!”

Santa gives a chuckle that comes from deep in his belly. “Of course I did! You said you wanted it because you wanted to bake like your daddy, but he said you were still too little to go near the oven.”

Emma nods. “Uh-huh!”

She looks down at the clay and rolls her lips inwards, so focused on deciding what she’s gonna make first, that she doesn’t notice Santa glancing up at the top of the stairs and doesn’t hear his quiet, “Oh shit.”

“Alright, kiddo,” Santa says, dragging Emma’s attention back to him. “Other kids still need to get their gifts, too.”

Emma frowns, but nods, holding the clay close to her chest. “You won’t tell my daddies about this, will you?”

Santa ruffles her hair with a gloved hand. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Emma mimes zipping her lips and locking them and throwing away the key.

“Good girl,” Santa laughs. “Now run along back up to bed, okay?”

“Aw, I don’t get to see you go back up the chimney?”

Santa hefts his toy back over his shoulder and winks. “Santa still has to keep some surprises.”

Emma frowns but nods. She gives him one last hug and then dashes back up the stairs and to her room, quickly trying to fall back to sleep so she can open the rest of her presents in the morning.

—

“Nice going, Santa,” Steve smirks as Eddie sneaks into their bedroom and shuts the door behind him, still in the Santa costume.

Eddie rips off the fake beard and huffs, putting his hands on his knees like he’s just ran a marathon. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. She’s gonna be asking to open a present early every year now.”

He takes off the rest of the costume that he was forced to wear for the label’s holiday party. A prank devised by Chrissy because she’s an actual menace to society.

There’s only one man he wants sitting on his lap, thank you very much.

Steve watches from where he’s sat up in bed, sliding an appreciative gaze over his husband, still in the red coat. “I don’t know, baby, this is kinda doing something for me.”

Eddie chokes on his spit and looks back at Steve with wide eyes. “Are you developing a Santa kink? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Steve only throws the blankets off of himself and crawls down the bed toward Eddie, like he’s a tiger stalking his prey.

Eddie holds his discarded clothes in front of him like a shield and slowly walks backward towards their ensuite. “Stevie, please, think about the repercussions. The ramifications this could have–ack!”

He shuts the bathroom door just as Steve pounces, laughter spilling from both of their lips.

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

❄️Catch Me Before I Let Go❄️

A teaser of my coming 🎁 for the wonderful @ironheartwriter for the Tarlos Secret Santa gift exchange!

Dearest Lana - it’s me I’m your Santa in Secret (no more)!! I don’t regret to inform you of that, because it has been an absolute delight so far to think up something wintery and fun for you from the prompts you gave me! I do regret to inform you however, that I am running a bit behind😔

The Christmas Chaos simply caught up with me with unexpected intensity and I’ve had to ask the wonderful mods for an extension. I am doing my very best to be able to give you the fic in it’s finished form before New Year’s Eve!! To make up for it, and to hold you over until then, I have prepared this teaser for you including the above collage/mood board, and below a summary and a lil’ snippet to gift you on my posting day<3 I hope brings you both intrigue and enjoyment!

Best wishes for a happy holiday,

Your very own Secret (no more) Santa,

Mar💚🥰🤶

Summary:

As a former member of the school swim team and someone who generally likes to be in charge of whether his feet are moving or not, Carlos Reyes prefers water in its liquid form. As such, a ski resort should not be on his top ten spots to visit. He’s insistent to make an exception though, in order to treat his adventurous, snow-loving husband to some fun downtime before they embark together on the next big step for them, of parenting TK’s little brother, Jonah. He’s booked a cozy wooden lodge in the closest ski resort to Austin, and he’s going to be his most fun and adventurous self while also making sure that his husband is absolutely spoiled. There’s just a few things he hasn’t taken into account: 1) Carlos has never skied before in his life. 2) Carlos really hates doing things he isn’t already good at, especially if they include the risk of falling on your face and 3) One very annoying, and very hot, ski-instructor named Josh who is outrageously obvious in his flirting up a storm with TK.

-In which TK and Carlos go skiing for the holidays, Carlos grapples with the old notion of letting go of control, and has also convinced himself that he has something to make up for.

*****

On the third day Carlos is officially deemed ready to take on the real pistes. At least according to TK. And to.. Josh. Carlos knows it’s probably immature but he still has trouble accepting compliments from the ski-instructor without somehow taking it as the opposite.

Something about the chipper look on his face when he tells Carlos that he’s ‘doing super good’ or he’s a ‘really quick learner’ makes him feel five years old. Carlos might not know the first thing about skiing and yeah, they might have literally paid Josh for his advice and encouragement, but where does he get off telling Carlos what he is and isn’t ready for or that he just needs to try and ‘let go a little’? Ugh. It’s condescending. 

Yesterday Carlos finally managed to slide down the training hill without face planting or tackling any small children along the way, only to be met at the bottom with Josh giving him a way too enthusiastic thumbs up and saying ‘good job!’ Carlos’ own brain had unhelpfully applied the ‘buddy’ to the end of the sentence, making Carlos feel like he was a little kid who had just managed to actually kick the ball at soccer practice for the first time. Carlos had to muster up all his willpower to smile politely and grit out a genuine-sounding ‘thank you’. 

Josh seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on Carlos, and luckily so did TK - his happy smile and rosy cheeks and the hands that Carlos could just barely feel the pressure of as they gripped at his waist over thick layers while he kissed him with lips that felt cool and moist from the snow had quickly improved his mood and made him feel genuinely proud of his accomplishment. 

Despite this, Carlos feels a little less sure about whether he’s really ready for the real thing, especially now as they’re on top of the hill and looking down, the daunting stretch of it is looking longer and more steep than it had seemed from the foot of it. He’ll be fine, he tries to reassure himself. If nothing else, he believes in TK and TK believes in him. According to TK (and Josh but Carlos is trying to reach a state of cool indifference when it comes to him mainly by trying not to think about him too much) it’s good to try the real piste sooner rather than later, to experience the thrill of actually skiing so as to not risk growing tired and frustrated before you’ve even experienced the real fun of it.

Better to fall on your face a few times than to stay on the training piste the whole trip and go thinking you’ve had enough of skiing for good. Carlos is trying to be on board with that sentiment even though he really isn’t the type to normally throw himself into things without feeling like he’s at least prepared enough that the chances of success are somewhat high.

‘Learning by doing’ and ‘crack a few eggs along the way’ are not normally sentiments that resonate with him. He will be the type for those though, for TK. For his wonderful and adventurous boyfriend who has put up with Carlos being a sobbing mess half the time during the past few weeks, carrying the weight for both of them as they’ve embarked on the process of adopting his little brother, and with Carlos’ absent mindedness and late nights even longer. So at least for this week, he’ll be adventurous for TK while he does his best to treat him to everything he desires.

Besides, it’s not like they’re doing the biggest pistes just yet - the plateau they’re on constitutes the starting point to the smaller slopes and they’re doing the smallest one to start with. TK will be with him the whole way, probably bored as they slide slowly down the hill with Carlos pushing the front of the skis inwards to break the whole way. 

He’s already survived the trip up, gripping TK’s hand tight the whole way and trying his best to appreciate the view, mostly managing to appreciate the view of TK appreciating the view, as he found that looking down made him a little lightheaded and made his heart speed up in his chest uncomfortably. 

As Carlos refastens the buckles of his ski-boots (he’s already done it twice, once when they arrived at the pistes and put on their skis, and once right before getting on the ski-lift, images of his skis falling off on the way up and landing right on somebody’s head making him guilty of negligent manslaughter on account of not tightening his boots enough), Carlos ends his little pep talk by sternly telling himself to pull it together. He can do this. This is their second to last day on the trip, and TK deserves to have some fun too, instead of having to spend his whole trip in the training area with Carlos and all the children. 

Speaking of TK, Carlos rights himself and looks around for him. He didn’t want Josh to witness him neurotically double and triple check the buckles of his boots, not feeling sure that he would react nicely to Josh butting in to offer unsolicited advice or, God forbid, crouching down to help him tighten them. So he’d mustered up a confident smile and told himself and TK to go ahead and Carlos would find them.

 Now he’s kind of regretting that. Carlos might allegedly be ready to slide down the smallest of the ‘adult’ hills, but the thing is, he still hasn't completely mastered the whole ‘moving on purpose in a normal walking pace’-thing. He still feels like it’s the skis, not him, deciding when he’s standing still and when he’s moving (and if he’s honest, which direction he moves in). 

Spotting his husband and the ski instructor that Carlos is not currently sparing thoughts for, by the starting point of the slope they’re supposed to try first, Carlos starts slowly making his way there. Luckily they seem to be caught in conversation and Carlos hopes that it stays that way so he doesn’t have to be observed inelegantly and very slowly approaching them. Nothing more awkward than waving and then being stared down for five minutes while you’re sweating and fighting to get within talking distance.

Once Carlos is within hearing range, he picks up bits of their conversation. “Oh,” he hears Josh’s voice say, and Carlos swears he can hear, even from just that one word, that the ski instructor is flirting with his husband. “I don’t suppose they make calendars for those too..?” And at that Carlos has to stop walking to roll his eyes (he can’t do both at the same time). 

Not this again, he thinks angrily. He can’t believe he’s had to witness TK being the victim of this god-awful pickup line twice in the span of their less than five years long relationship and had to fend the guy off (leading to some spectacular sex the first time, but still). Can’t these idiots come up with something better?

Carlos picks up his pace, he needs to stop this conversation before it goes any further and show this Josh-guy, Mr. ‘I’m a hot and blonde ski instructor who probably never gets caught in my head and is a lot of fun’, who TK belongs to. Even if somewhere deep within himself Carlos is finding it hard to measure up at the moment.

Carlos is sweating and panting, his brows furrowed in concentration trying to make his legs move faster, his thighs protesting as he slides one in front of the other in quick succession, using his poles to try and make sure he’s actually causing a forward movement instead of just looking like he’s using the skiing machine at the gym. At one point he gives up and turns so his side is to Josh and TK, awkwardly lifting his skis to take broad steps sideways.

He’s already preparing what to say in his head. Maybe if he interrupts the exact same thing as last time, TK will find it funny and get that wonderful crinkly and shiny eyed laugh he reserves for Carlos’ jokes that always makes his chest feel two sizes bigger, and they can laugh about it later tonight and hopefully have a repeat of the spectacular sex it resulted in last time. 

Deciding he’s as close as he’s gonna get if he’s gonna make it in time before the conversation moves on, he turns towards them again. Trying to make it look deceivingly effortless as he closes the rest of the gap between them, he paints on his cockiest smile and shouts, loud enough to make sure they can hear him even though he’s barely within hearing range, “And his husband is a Texas R-“ 

Unfortunately he doesn’t get further than that because the thing that could absolutely not happen, happens. 

In his eagerness to interrupt the blatant flirting aimed at his husband, Carlos had accidentally turned his skis in the direction of the light downwards slope toward one of the bigger pistes, and, quickly losing forward momentum as soon as he didn’t give it his full attention, has now started to slide backwards. And this time he isn’t in the training area anymore and he won’t be caught by a fence. 

He sees TK’s eyes widen as his form gets smaller and smaller, and Carlos tries desperately to break, but he can barely break while going forwards, let alone when he’s going backwards, and he isn’t succeeding. In fact, he’s picking up speed, and a glance over his shoulder tells him he’s fast approaching the edge where the plateau changes to one of the steeper slopes.

In a last resort to prevent disaster Carlos lets himself fall ungracefully into the snow, but unfortunately, it’s too late. The concerned faces of people clad in ski suits of all colors swim in and out of his vision as he tumbles down the hill. The world spins dizzyingly around him like he’s the immobile center of a spinning snow globe depicting a ski-resort themed winter wonderland.

Through his dizziness, Carlos manages to send a prayer to the universe that he won’t bump into someone and cause some sort of mass casualty event, as he keeps tumbling for what feels like ages. At some point the tip of his left ski seems to catch on something causing a sharp pain to shoot through his ankle, making him cry out in pain.

The world spins a few more times and then he's landing on his back at what he assumes is the bottom of the slope. Squinting dazedly up at the clear blue sky he tries to catch his breath. Trying to move his leg which is bent at an odd ankle so he can sit up, he grimaces and lets out another cry as he’s reminded of twisting his ankle on the way down, the sharp pang settling to dull throb as he stops trying to move.

Turning only his head he sees the bright orange shape of TK in his ski suit zig-zagging down the hill at impressive speed. His hero, his wild heart, come to save him.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Real Man

Jay Halstead x Reader

Your ex pushes Jay too far

Warnings: Suggestive?

“So I was thinking” you cut your eyes up from your computer to your boyfriend who was currently sitting on the edge of your desk giving you one of those smiles he knew could get you to agree to damn near anything. “Thinking what honey?” he shrugged “Will’s birthday is tonight. Wanna go out to Mollys with him and Nat? Get a couple beers? Maybe we can go get dinner or catch a movie after?”

You felt a smile slip onto your face “Date night after we ditch your brother so him and his girl can go home to her kid?” he nodded “Exactly” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth like you were having to think about it for a second and laughed when his eyes widened “I’m kidding Jay! Pick me up at seven” he shook his head “That was mean baby”

You turned in front of the mirror to check your reflection once more. The dress you picked was one of Jay’s favorites on you, along with the boots. You heard a knock at your door and checked the time, six fifty five. Damn.

You walked over to the door and opened it to find Jay on the other side. He turned when the door opened like he was about to say something but when he saw you his mouth snapped shut. “What?” you asked, suddenly double thinking about your outfit. He shook his head “Are you trying to not go out? Because that dress makes me want to stay in” you felt your face warm along with pretty much the rest of your body at his comment.

“C’mon baby, Will is waiting. You’ve got plenty of time later to do with me as you please” one his eyebrows raised and you winked at him then grabbed your jacket “Let’s go” you felt his hand on your lower back as you locked your door and then on the way to his truck it slid lower to gently squeeze your ass. When you gasped lightly he leaned closer, letting his teeth graze the soft skin of your neck “I’m gonna take my take with you later”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words. Maybe Will would understand? No no no. You had to meet him.

Jay had his arms around your waist and you were leaning back against his chest. Him and Will were playing darts and while you could have sat down you didn’t exactly mind an opportunity to be in his arms. His lips brushed your neck before he stepped away just long enough to throw his dart and it landed on another bullseye. You laughed at the look on Will’s face “Why are you playing darts with someone who was in the rangers that we consistently use as the help from above and expecting to win” Will cut his eyes at Jay who explained “Her idea of help from above is a sniper on the roof”

Will nodded “That’s a good point” Jay laughed and squeezed your hips “Damn sweetheart I already beat him in four games” you nodded turning your head to look back at him “It was getting sad” “Oh was it?” Jay laughed, leaning down to catch your lips in a quick kiss.

________

“Well if it isn’t my leftovers and the sad sap who got em” You immediately stiffened at the voice. Your ex Lee Richards.  A narcissist, toxic, insecure asshole. The complete opposite of the man whose arms you were currently in and who must be very drunk to think this was a good idea.

Jay turned, pushing you behind him as he did so “Walk away Richards. I’ll give you one chance” You cut your eyes at Will, silently begging for help when Lee had the nerve to say “Ya know that first time you fucked her we hadn’t been broken up but what? Three weeks? She was probably thinking about me”

Jay laughed and it was anything but a humorous sound “And yet the entire time I was between her legs she damn sure wasn’t screaming your name when she was begging me for it.  Maybe she was just tired of little boys playing grown up and needed a real man to show her how a woman should be treated. Now get the fuck out of my face before I break your jaw”

Lee ever the idiot swung on Jay who easily blocked the punch with his left hand and threw a punch with his right that connected solidly with a sickening crunch. He dropped onto the floor, holding his face. “I’ll press charges” he threatened around the swelling but Nat, Cruz and about half a dozen other people all piped up saying it was self defense. Jay winked at him “My word against yours. You work for a nobody I work for Hank Voight. Get up” 

Lee scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door. You reached for Jay’s hand and he let you turn it over “I’m fine baby, his face isn’t hard enough to hurt me” you kissed his hand then whispered in his ear “That was the absolute sexiest thing I have ever seen” he cut his eyes at you and a smirk slipped onto his face “Happy birthday Will, I’ll catch you later” then grabbed your hand.

“Where are you two going?” Will called as Jay tugged you behind him through the bar and out the door.

__________

Your back was against Jay’s truck while he worked the sensitive flesh right below your ear with his teeth. A low moan of his name slipped out of your lips, your fingers finding their way into his hair. He moved back up to your mouth, leaving a bruising kiss against your lips “Did it turn you on that much? Me defending you?” one of his hands slipped under the hem of your dress and when you didn’t protest that the two of you were outside, visible to anyone and instead just left your legs fall apart wider he laughed against your lips “Damn, remind me to knock idiots on their asses more often”

[dcdreamblog]

This is a sensitive topic, so feel free not to answer, but several heroes have turned to villainy before (for example, the hero Obsidian), and I'd like to know how that's discussed in your profession's circles.

Are they still considered heroes? Most have returned to the role, but I could see some people refusing to view them as such.

Let's...take Obsidian as a sample case, just because by the fact that his and his family's identities are public we can get a bit more into the weeds without wild speculation.

(Obsidian's official portrait/poster during his original tenure in Infinity Inc)

Todd Rice and his twin sister Jennie-Lyn Hayden are the biological children of the Golden Age Green Lantern, Alan Scott and the former villainess Thorn AKA Rose Canton.

Canton was originally "cured" of her schizophrenia through prolonged treatment on Themyscira but after the HUAC trial and the passage of the Keane Act lead the Amazons to retreat from wider civilization, Canton chose to return to the world at large, seeking a fresh start despite warnings that the continued effectiveness of her treatment couldn't be guaranteed outside of Paradise Island (due mostly to "Man's World's" inability to recognize or empathetically treat a mentally ill woman in that time period, especially one with a criminal record)

Canton, under an assumed identity, romanced and eventually married Alan Scott. Only for her Rose persona to reappear during their honeymoon. Fleeing without a trace to avoid allowing Rose to kill Scott, Canton also placed the twins their honeymoon had produced up for adoption to protect them from herself.

While his sister was adopted by well meaning, imperfect parents in the suburbs of Milwaukee, Rice was raised by an abusive alcoholic who kept the truth of Rice's parentage and sister from him into his young teenage years. Escaping his household and meeting up with his sister, Rice took the name Obsidian due to the shadow controlling powers he had gained, possibly due to any number of exposures during his father's or mother's superhuman careers. Joining up with other children and proteges of the JSA, they founded the hero team Infinity Inc.

The problems arose when Rice began to manifest symptoms of his own schizophrenic disorder, exacerbated by events such as the breakup of Infinity Inc, his sister's depowering and leaving Earth alongside the modern Green Lantern, a final confrontation with his birth mother leading to her death AND Rice's unconfronted (and thus, unsupported) homosexuality.

His reunion with Scott was also not what the young man had expected, with the famously gruff and laconic Scott failing to be the emotional presence his long lost son needed. Rice was easy enough to manipulate via Scott's old enemies Ian Karkull, Mordru and Eclipso who pushed Rice into a confrontation with his adoptive father that ultimately turned deadly.

(A photograph of Obsidian, taken from the streets of Milwaukee before his battle with the Justice Society. Photographer unknown.)

The JSA at large became involved, leading to a public battle in the streets of Milwaukee where Rice and Scott came to blows directly. Rice was publically defeated and remanded into psychiatric custody of some kind (though obviously details are not forthcoming on that, nor should they be)

Next the world saw of him, Obsidian was announced as a member of the JSA's modern roster where he has remained, more or less, to this day. Obsidian was, until the return to public prominence of Extrano, the most notable gay man in the superhero community, he currently lives alongside his husband and son in Los Angeles and has been a public advocate for mental health treatment and the normalization of schizophrenia and psychotic disorders in public life, most famously saying

"If the gay thing AND the mentally ill thing hadn't both been sealed in together so long. Things would have been different." in an interview for the Justice League Queer's website.

The superheroes who "fall from grace" (as loathe I am to use that particular metaphor) and then return to it are to be, more often than not, celebrated.

One of the main things my profession exists to detail is that our protectors are, for all its wondrous complexities, human. Todd Rice happens to be a human who was struggling with an undiagnosed mental illness, unknowingly keeping himself in the closet, an abusive upbringing, the trauma inherent in superhero work, a birth father who was not emotionally available, the loss of a sibling and team who had been his only support system AND being radicalized by a trio of evil shadow wizards.

The fact that he came back to the light at ALL is nothing short of a miracle in being. He was in custody, he got treatment, he got OUT of treatment and has spent every day since saving lives and advocating for people like him to the best of his ability.

If we cannot accept that, cannot see the ineffable good in mankind the manifests in that journey with all its peaks and valleys. Then what the FUCK are any of us doing any of this for anyway?