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luciddownloading · 7 months

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The 5th House and Star Power/Quality ✨

The sign on your 5th House cusp and/or planet(s) in your 5th shows how you shine. Bright like a diamond! It's the key to finding not only your talent but your star power, your It Factor. If you were a celebrity, it would be what people praise you the most for. But, everyone gets the most hype for their 5th House energies. So, be your own talent agent and take advantage of them!

Life hack for creatives and performers out there: your 5th House shows you "your lane" as an artist. Not your 10th House. It's the direction you should go in creatively if you feel like you're struggling to successfully carve out your niche or attract recognition. You will gain the biggest following by emphasizing it.

SUN IN THE 5TH and/or LEO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Lucky you! You seemingly just have to be you to gain an adoring following. People love how authentic you are, how you're not trying to be anyone other than you. This is "movie star" type energy. The kind of performer who is constantly "playing themselves" but is so charming and magnetic that nobody minds. You have Stage Presence. You could just stand around, doing nothing, and people want to watch. So, remember that you never have to try hard. You're just naturally entertaining and charismatic. Don't be afraid to play the role of the star, either! Admit it. You enjoy the attention. And others enjoy giving it to you! Your confidence plays a big role in this (whether it's natural or you're faking it til you're making it), creating this golden aura of greatness around you. You could turn the grocery store into a Red Carpet event just by walking in.

MOON IN THE 5TH and/or CANCER ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

No matter your age, you remain the girl or boy next door. Your star quality is cute, comforting, safe. Wholesome vibes. This is the actor who does a dozen rom-coms or tearjerkers that are like a fuzzy blanket on a rainy day. You gain the most applause via your vulnerability. In spite of what you may fear, shedding a few tears or having a cathartic meltdown only earns you admiration, not ridicule. Sensitivity allows you to shine! You might have a very charismatic mother figure that you clearly get your greatness from. Or, if/when you have children, they could look up to you as the brightest light in their life. Your whole immediate family may be very talented or entertaining and you're most in your element when around them.

MERCURY IN THE 5TH and/or GEMINI ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Hello, Jack/Jill of all Trades! People will be enthralled by just how multi-talented you are. Double/triple/quadruple threats! It may even exhaust others a bit and even if you're not exactly mastering all those interests, you still make it fascinating to watch. But, let's be clear: writing is your bread and butter, whether it's screenwriting, prose, poetry, or blogging. You are a top-tier storyteller, even in person, and will probably gain the most attention for your writing. Your star quality stems from that witty, smart, cheeky, clever voice you have. When you have something to say, people listen! And it usually takes them in an unpredictable direction. Your duality is also the key to your charisma, as you are an entertaining bundle of opposites that others can't truly figure out.

VENUS IN THE 5TH and/or TAURUS/LIBRA ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Okay, let's be honest. Your attractiveness keeps people in the palm of your hand. Most of your audience is so entertained by you because they think you're such a babe. Also, that you're just such a sweetheart! This would be the kind of actor whose characters you always root for because they're so damn likable. But, before you see your star power as superficial (as you may sometimes complain about not being taken seriously enough), you have some serious artistic prowess. It's largely visual. You'd make a fabulous director, painter or photographer because your aesthetic and eye for beauty leaves others wanting more. (You might even just be the best at curating your social media) PS: You are either the ultimate muse, constantly inspiring others' art or other notable efforts, or you tap into your light by making a special someone your muse.

MARS IN THE 5TH and/or ARIES ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Do you hear that? It's the sound of your fans salivating over you! Your star power makes you hot as a summer day and it's not necessarily about how you look. You just have this sexual charisma to you. It's giving sexy rock star, with all the panties or boxer-briefs thrown on stage to prove it. So, if you were to be a performer, that would be your lane. Or possibly a rapper (depending on your skills/interests, obviously). Anything that lets you be wild, raw, hard-hitting. Regardless of your talents, you shine brightly when being daring and living on the edge. This also makes for extreme-sports enthusiasts and excellent athletes, the latter of which can lead to a killer bod. Which will definitely gain you much attention. Tbh, there are some himbo/bimbo vibes here but in the most empowered way. Like, "yes, I will wear little to no clothes because I know people love it and it's my power move."

JUPITER IN THE 5TH and/or SAGITTARIUS ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Listen, you're not just talented. You have serious Chosen One energy. Whatever you are good at, it's blatantly obvious that you were put on Earth to do it. You live out your path like a God-given mission and it leaves people kind of in awe. If you're an artist (and there's a good 83.5 percent chance you are, with this placement), you are capable of either becoming a larger-than-life force in your creative field or gain a passionate cult following that is convinced you're terribly underrated (even though you're quite popular) and no one gets your work like they do. In the midst of it all, your sense of fun and humor remain, never taking yourself too seriously. You shine bright by being funny, colorful, a little bit extra and uncensored. Blunt, on-the-edge statements that others would be crucified for are mostly seen as entertaining and refreshing coming from you.

SATURN IN THE 5TH and/or CAPRICORN ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

This is definitely the girlboss position, even for the boys with this placement, lol, because you know how to be in-charge in a way that others find exciting and engaging. Like, "Yes, I want to get that bread, too!" But, few people can actually match your work ethic or authority, which could stem from a father figure who you worship and adore and make you a very commanding figure. It's funny but the more intimidating you are, the more you shine. Or should I say the brighter you shine, the more that light intimidates others? Most of you with this placement embrace it, seeing the perks of being feared. Popular people often are! You might not get the credit for your actual talent that you deserve, especially if you're an artist. People may think your greatness is a matter of image or focus more on how you hustled to the top. It may not be until you're a bit older that people start seeing your actual substance.

URANUS IN THE 5TH and/or AQUARIUS ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

You are most charismatic or entertaining when you're not trying to be. The nerdy, weird, or chaotic parts of yourself that you may cringe at or think nothing of are actually what gain you the most praise. You might be like that celebrity who acts like they're not famous or doesn't understand why they are. But, as time goes on, you learn to just go with it! Similar to Jupiter/Sagittarius in the 5th, your creative talents can be truly iconic. But, there's like an "artistic genius" or "young prodigy" vibe here. You might completely stumble into a skill and shock everyone, especially yourself, with what a natural you are. You also shine by defying certain gender roles, impressing others as a sensitive or beauty-loving guy or a tomboyish or aggressive lady.

NEPTUNE IN THE 5TH and/or PISCES ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Your star power stems from the entire worlds and dimensions you can create. Obviously, this is a particularly artsy, imaginative placement. But, a role as a fantasy/sci-fi writer, especially, could lead to lots of praise. Few would excel at intricate world-building or provide glorious escapism like you. Whatever you do creatively, your special magic shines through. A chameleon type presence is also evident, like the type of actor who can easily "disappear" into roles. Even in regular life, people are most entertained by your disappearing acts. You might be very quiet and internal, even in a room full of people, intriguingly fading into the background. Or you could just be evasive, like a spirit that quickly vanishes and whose absence haunts you. Regardless, it's your softness, your mystery, your fantasy life that enthralls people. Bonus points if you have a particular alter ego you constantly assume.

PLUTO IN THE 5TH and/or SCORPIO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

You entertain folks best when your highs and lows are on full display. People want to see the drama with you, the "sturm und drang", the tears and the ecstasy. A creative outlet is actually quite recommended for most of you with this influence. Those emotional extremes you're capable of draw your audience in the most, whether it's through introspective poetry or soul-baring music or the kind of raw character work that is worthy of Best Actor or Actress. The deeper you go, the more you shine. And while that may be scary, you embrace that fear and enjoy conquering it. But, there are limits to this intimacy, as you can be equally guarded in a way that ironically gains you more fans. It's that "leave them wanting more" star quality, a kind of Greta Garbo mystique. Even when you tell people you want to be alone, it doesn't stop them from trying harder to get into your business. The dilemma of such a private star!

CHIRON IN THE 5TH and/or VIRGO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Feeling particularly neurotic? Like you're not good enough and like you have no clue how to do what you're supposedly talented at? This is the struggle of many creatives. But, for you, this insecurity is actually the essence of your star quality. You are the underdog that everyone roots for. Your fans might find it especially endearing or rather heartbreaking that you don't see your greatness. But, it creates this narrative around you where others want to invest in your endless journey to prove yourself. One secret you may keep, even from yourself, is that a part of you knows you're good. But, you're afraid to admit it because you think it'll jinx you. Or you think you have to squash any potential ego and remain impeccably humble. Allow yourself the occasional private "I'm feeling myself" moment. No one else will know!

Thank you for attending my Hype Session. Keep shining, babes.

#astrology #astro notes #the 5th house #5th house in astrology #sun in the 5th house #moon in the 5th house #mercury in the 5th house #venus in the 5th house #mars in the 5th house #jupiter in the 5th house #saturn in the 5th house #uranus in the 5th house #neptune in the 5th house #pluto in the 5th house #chiron in the 5th house #star power #star quality

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 8 months

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DPXDC prompt. Family? Assemble!

Reporter: Gotham News, and we have a new supervillain on the line. Mr Phantom, what are your demands at the moment? Phantom with lack of sleep and with tears: I..I want a titanium model of a spaceship! And to get a good night’s sleep and to go to the local school…and some fudge and.. Reporter: Oh, my bad. Just one question for clarification, are you by any chance an orphan or are your parents villains? Phantom: I prefer the term mad scientists Reporter: Okay. So, Gotham news! And with me on the line is the new potential child of Wayne or Batman. Want to know how two serial adopters will share a child leading a double life? Stay with us and find out. Now let's check in with Jessie for our weather report. Phantom: Wait, what?

~~~~~

Danny spends the night running from the Red Hood with a bag of fudge, Red Robin with a pot of coffee, Batman with the adoption papers and, for some reason, Brucie Wayne with an idea of internship at a space station. Ha! The Justice League will never let a ghost into orbit. Not that Wayne can blackmail superheroes or smth. Danny: Fuck you all! I’m done with vigilante activity, I’m not your competitor! What do you want from me? And I’m done with crazy billionaires too. I swear, I’d rather be adopted by a local mob boss just to piss you off! ~Later~ Danny *sees peering out of the corner Matches Malone*: Are you kidding me?! Robbie *jumps off the roof and lands right behind Danny*: Stop running, lil brother, No one’s left the family yet. Minnie: What about Neal? Robbie *shakes a knife with a bow on the handle negatively*: He’s on sabbatical, that doesn’t count. Anyway, it’s a gift for you, cub. Danny: Um, thank you, but my lab scalpels are definitely sterile, and your blade was in who knows who before you brought it here. Robbie: It’s brand-new! And Archie decorated it with a ghost on the handle. Look! It's cute! With a smile and… Dick: Hands up! You’re under arrest for trying to steal our new member! Minnie: Why is he yours, damn cop? Selina: Boys, don’t fight. He’s mine. Schrodinger’s cat is still a kitten. Killer Croc: No way, my niece is staying with me. Danny: Uncle Waylon? Long time no see. Ra's: My grandson needs steady access to ectoplasm. Danyal, come with me. Danny: Over my dead body! Oh shiii…I mean no. Anyway, don’t you think the alley’s getting a little crowded?

~~~~

Killer Croc: Is he still mad at me? RR: Danny doesn’t talk to uncles who tried to eat his beloved brother Red Robin. Killer Croc: He wasn’t even your brother then. What do you want? An apology from me? RR: That would be nice.

~~~~

Danny: I didn’t think the GIW agents would really fear the reputation of Gotham and not follow me. What a relief! Jason *quickly throws the knife into the sink*: Wow, you got lucky. Alfred: Master Jones, why don’t you eat your steak? I thought last week you were complaining to Batman that 'cause of him you got not many prey. Croc *pulls a piece of white robe from the teeth*: Well, now there is a lot of it. Bruce *gives Jason and Croc the side-eye*.

~~~~

Ra's: You do realize that Malone, Wayne and Batman are the same person, right? Boy, you were born into a family of geniuses, don’t disappoint Grandpa. Danny: Triple pocket money, triple gifts for the holidays, the opportunity to complain about the same family member three times. No, Grandpa, I definitely don’t understand. Ra's: Smart little weasel.

~~~~

Selina: Okay. Purely theoretical. Do you like to steal? Danny: I wouldn’t say that. But somehow I stole the sword from the fright knight. And also stole few jewels but then I was under the mind control. I returned them. Well, the crown and ring of the king of the ghost zone I also took without permission. Oh, and the answers to the test once. And I’m really sorry about the last one. Neal: I feel the story behind it but I prefer to know nothing about it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc memes #dpxdc meme #rip giw

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

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Recent/Unpopular Idol!Reader X Loser!König meeting at a fan meet and greet?

Konig chooses you because you're unpopular. It's literally that easy. He sees the social media posts of your idol group. You're part of a small band - tiny, even. Another group of yet another pretty face, nothing spectacular about your singing or dancing or your costumes. There are at least 4 other groups that act exactly like you - but there is something about the way you always look sad on promotional posts that gets him. Usually, idols aren't allowed real emotions - it would make stamping fans like him angry that another pretty girl allows herself to feel real emotions, but you're already unpopular enough that managers don't really go through your social media as carefully. He loves watching your stories, this tiny bit of unprofessionalism mixed with everything. You're not really popular, collectible carts with you are usually going in exchange for doubles or as a gift - Konig has every piece of merch that has you on it. Buying in triples and doubles in hopes that you would get at least a piece of the money - he hopes that you somehow would feel him supporting you. Horangi was the one to introduce the concept of idols to Konig - and honestly, pretty girl in skimpy clothes are not exactly his type of music, but he switched from hard rock to love ballads once he sees your demeanor, just a bit too shy and broken. He buys exclusive opportunities for meet and greet. Your agency is getting desperate, trying to promote you before the tax season ends - hoping to get the most out of you before another wave of pretty faces brings you into irrelevance. Your shelf life is just a few months, and your agents are fuming over being the only ones without other promo opportunities. Selling a date with you was just about the only thing they could do - hoping that the media backlash would bring you enough attention to get you through. Konig has enough money to buy your date in triple amount - but he still spends the whole night awake, not daring to close his eyes as his finger hovers over the booking option. You might not be the most important idol in the country, but he still wants to be the only one to get with you. This is an opportunity for the lifetime - meeting you, touching you. Sharing a dinner with you, even though your agent would be hovering over like a hawk. They can be persuaded - or threatened. Horangi has a bit of connection from his time of gambling, and Konig has enough guns and money to make a small, irrelevant idol like you disappear. Fans would probably think it was just a promotional scandal - maybe, you got a boyfriend or were caught doing something illegal. Definitely not kidnapped by a deranged fan who is certain that you're his perfect little wifey. You didn't even had fans, after all.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader

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orionremastered · 4 months

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Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

You knew what curare was. The plant, originating from South America, was a plant drug that was used in the first forms of anesthesia before being replaced by newer agents. That left curare no longer as something useful, but as a deadly poison.

Curare relaxes the muscles until, eventually, the victim's diaphragmatic muscles no longer have the strength, causing the body to die of asphyxia.

It is in times like this, when you gaze over the hospital bed of your soulmate, that you wished you didn't know these things. You wished you didn't know how long it took for it to kill a human- twenty minutes at most- but your knowledge was useful. It was useful in the way that you knew the poison wasn't eaten or consumed.

That wasn't how curare worked.

The nurses found a pinprick from a needle in Damian's hand, indicating that was where the dosage was given to him.

In front of you suddenly, Bruce clears his throat. He passes you a coffee and you gratefully take it, drinking it practically in one go. “He must've felt the needle.”

Bruce sat back on the chair beside you, sighing into his cup. It was one of those paper cups and the billionaire looked comical drinking from it. “There are things that you one day will learn about my son,” he says in a low, deep voice, “But that day has yet to come.”

He offers no room for further explanation, and part of you doesn't want to know. Not with the way he said it.

With an understanding nod, your gaze drifts to the TV directly across from the bed. A news channel is playing, but the volume's all the way down. The news reporter- a lady with blonde hair in a fur coat as she stands outside the GCPD headquarters- finishes talking and smiles.

You read the headline and immediately point it out for Bruce.

VIGILANTES DETAIN SUSPECT OF WAYNE POISONING.

The suspect in question is heavily beat up, setting off alarms in your head you didn't know existed. You recognised him from the meeting in the Wayne Tower; one of the businessmen from another city.

Beside you, Bruce smiles. But only slightly; you have to triple check to make sure it's really there.

"Did they get him, father?"

The low voice startles you and your head immediately whips around to see your soulmate's eyes opened, watching his father until his gaze slowly turns to you.

"Hi," you say quietly, fidgeting with a pen you found in your pocket.

Damian slowly looks to his forearm where the words he and his family- both the Al Ghuls and the Waynes- dreaded. Instead of being written in black, they were now written in your favourite colour. The word on your forearm was now written in emerald green.

"How are you feeling?" you ask after clearing your throat.

There’s a moment of pause as he eyes you warily. A tired figure who’s worked too hard and for too long; someone who’s seen horrors and met lunatics all for a shitty paycheck. You don’t even know why you do your job; it’s something you always wanted to do, and it’s fulfilling, but sometimes those reasons didn’t feel like enough. “Better,” he finally decides.

Better. You could settle for better.

“I’d better get going, then. I’ve had a long day, so, uhm,” you scribble your phone number and name down on a piece of paper, placing it on the bedside table. “Here. Call whenever you want to talk.”

There’s no universe where Damian’s eyes widen a fraction when he realises you’re not staying, but perhaps in this one, he did. Giving a nod to Bruce, you head out the door, walking purposefully to the entrance.

The truth was; you’re not ready for publicity. Being a paramedic means focus on the job and having paparazzi following you around at work was far from what you wanted. You were busy. Galas you would skip from being too tired or your back hurting from lifting patients or simply not being able to take the day off due to lack of staff. You’d become a target for criminals across the city rather than a face they sought for help.

You had been the one to give him your number for whenever he was ready to talk, but maybe it should’ve been the other way around.

Harper slammed the passenger door to the ambulance shut, signalling the start of a busy night shift. It was the first shift you’d had together since you discovered the identity of your soulmate and you were grateful for a distraction.

You partner whistled awkwardly, casting nervous glances your way as you pull out of the station.

“Did you talk?”

“Briefly.”

“Exchange numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… talk over text?”

“No,” you sigh, driving to the nearest coffee shop despite you knowing you wouldn’t make it before getting a call. “Maybe it’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t really want the publicity, you know?”

Harper nodded slowly. “Is he doing better?”

“Yeah, he got discharged an hour after I left. Checked the hospital staff portal.”

The computer beside Harper beeps, shifting your attention to it. “Elderly male complaining of chest pains, history of cardiac issues.”

“Nothing like a heart attack to change the subject,” you mutter, putting the topic of your soulmate in the back of your mind. Lingering, but never gone.

Half an hour until your shift ended. That was the only thing you could think about as the grey clouds hanging constantly over Gotham brightened with the rising sun. Your shift had been long, eventful and it was safe to say the pizza you managed to find open at this hour was the best thing you'd ever tasted.

"Do you think-"

Harper gets cut off by the sound of a message reaching your phone. He raises an eyebrow, smile growing as you roll your eyes and pull it out of your pocket. Truth is, you still weren't ready to register or make the decision on whether or not you wanted to be with someone like a Wayne.

Sorry for not texting you sooner. We should talk.

You change the new number's name to 'Soulmate' and fiddle with your phone case, trying to come up with a reply. Harper casts glances at the screen every few seconds, trying to act normal.

I can't have the publicity.

Your gut sours as you wait for a reply, but you can't seem to rip your eyes away.

I understand.

That is why we should talk.

"Maybe you should talk," Harper says. "It'll be worth it, I'm sure."

You know it will- you want to be with him, you want to have a future together and you want that yearning in your chest to be filled with satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, you can finally do life right.

But part of you- perhaps the rational part of you- believes that could never happen. You'd have to choose between your soulmate and your job. Helping the city, being anonymous, meeting new people and laughing with your colleagues- your best friends- doing what you love...

You turn off your phone without replying.

A/N: Requests are open for batfam if anyone has ideas (bc I heavily lack those rn)

Masterlist

#damian wayne x reader #batfamily #batfam #x reader #batfamily x reader

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violette-hue · 1 year

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Jealous

Summary: Steve really doesn't like the person you're interviewing, so afterwards he fucks you sensleess.

Trigger Warning(s): unprotected sex, cursing, degradation, slight forcing, mentions of breeding kink, not proof read, maybe some typos

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Happy early birthday @ceo-of-daichi ! Possessive Steve is the best Steve~ (P.S. - I drank some tea for the flu in hops that it'll make me feel better, so the last half of this was written with a drowsy mind).

**Minors and ageless blogs do not interact. 18+ only**

“You’re interviewing him?”

You turned to look at your boyfriend as you buttoned up your blouse. You cocked a brow at the tone of his implication. You had been getting ready for a meeting for an interview that was to be done in an hour when he stalked into the room.

Ever since Steve had found out you were interviewing Loki for his part in the literal destruction of New York City, he had been making comments here and there on why this was a bad idea. Maybe he was right, but you were just over the moon Loki had even agreed to do an interview with you.

"Babe, I don't really see what's the problem," you responded nonchalantly, taking your time to button up the last few buttons. To show some boobage or to not. You chewed on the inside of your lip in thought.

Steve scoffed. "Are you kidding me? He just tried to take over New York City, causing millions in destruction. He's dangerous."

"Dangerous." You repeated. "Everyone is dangerous, Steve, even The Avengers. Besides, there's going to be, like, a bunch of police guys there guarding him. I actually think they might be S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

You watched as the muscles on Steve's arm flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Jesus Christ, Steve--"

"Language--"

"Why don't you just come with me? Brood in the corner like my silent protector."

It was silent for a few heartbeats, and you thought Steve might laugh in your face. Instead, he shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Fine," Steve said, leaning back against the door frame. "Button up your shirt again, I missed the show."

You giggled and rolled your eyes, but obeyed. You unbuttoned your blouse, then buttoned it back up again slower this time, giving a good show.

You walked into the interview room: Loki's cell. He was held behind some type of glass box, the floors some sort of dark, holographic tile. The room was bare, housing only a dozen or so S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Loki had escaped once from a cell similar to this, the chances of him escaping again were likely. These agents wouldn't be able to do much to stop it.

You stepped towards the glass, stopping a foot or two from the cell. Loki was already standing, and as he stalked towards you, he made sure to trail his eyes over your body.

"Did you get all dressed up for me?" Loki drawled, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out the small recorder that was tucked into the waistband of your tight skirt. "I hate to bruise your ego, but it's actually a job requirement," you responded, tripling checking the recorder had enough charge. You had checked the decent sized black rectangle before you left the apartment and then on your way over here. A nervous habit and the constant feeling that something would go wrong.

"An enjoyable job requirement. For me," Loki commented.

You heard a low growl come from Steve and felt the warmth from his chest as he stepped closer to you.

"Oh," Loki hummed. "A displeasure to see you Mr. America." Loki took a few steps closer. "Did they send you in to keep guard, too?"

"No," Steve answered roughly. "And it's Captain."

"Yes, so sorry. Mr. Captain." Loki smiled wide, clearly enjoying making your boyfriend irritable.

You couldn't help but giggle and look down. Loki was charming and funny. Too bad he was an absolute menace to society.

"Mr. Laufeyson--" you started, pressing the record button.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," Loki purred.

"--I want to make you aware that from this point forward, I'll be recording or conversation for the interview you agreed to."

The door that lead to Loki's cell closed with a loud thud and you walked down the quiet hallways in silence. Steve hadn't said much since speaking up before the interview, and you had this gut feeling that something was wrong. You stole a glance toward him and frowned. He was brooding, his brows knitted together with irritation. Even as pissed as he looked, he still looked so beautiful, like he was carved by the hands of a goddess.

"Stop staring at me," Steve said sharply.

You frowned at the roughness in his voice. "You're angry."

"I'm not."

You moved your gaze back to the labyrinth you were walking through, deciding to stay quiet. It was no use trying to talk to Steve when he got in these moods. His walls would come up and anything you'd say would just bounce right back at you. You'd just have to wait until you got home.

The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of your shoes echoing off the dark floors. At this point, you weren't even sure where you were going, and you were hoping that Steve would guide you in the right direction. But he stopped, causing you to stop with him.

"What--?"

"I told you, you shouldn't have done that interview with him," Steve hissed.

You turned towards him, your brows furrowed with confusion. You opened you mouth, but closed it as soon as Steve continued.

"The whole time--the whole fucking time--he was doing nothing but flirting with you. Commenting on your clothes, commenting on your hair, commenting on your hips--"

"I do have nice 'birthing hips,'" you interjected playfully.

Steve backed you up against a wall, his hand slamming against the tile above your head. "That's not the fucking point," he growled, his face inches from yours.

"Language," you breathed. Your thighs instinctively rubbed together at the close proximity of your bodies. With just a slight arc of your back, your aching breasts would be flush against his chest. You mentally kicked yourself. Now wasn't the time to have your head in the gutter. Not when Steve was finally addressing the situation at hand.

"You looked like you were enjoying the flirting, too," he spat. "Did you?"

You were at a loss for words. Of course you enjoyed the playful flirting. You enjoyed the senseless comments just to irritate Steve and the below the belt jabs just to get a response out of him. How could you not? Steve was always so tense, so worried about his image in public that it came home with him. He didn't know how to let loose, how to just be Steve Rogers instead of Captain America.

"Yes," you finally answered. "I enjoyed it. A lot."

Steve pushed himself off the wall and ran a hand through his perfectly combed hair. "Fuck--" He took a deep breath and looked at you, then looked away. He seemed to be having an internal battle with himself.

"I liked the way you reacted to it," you continued bashfully, looking down. "Y'know, this--" You quickly gestured with a hand to Steve and stepped away from the wall.

You felt stupid at the disclosure, but you didn't want Steve to think you enjoyed the flirting because of who it was coming from. You liked the way Steve would place a subtle hand on your hip or gently brush back your hair whenever Loki would make a sly remark. Steve wasn't the possessive type, and you enjoyed it. But you also didn't know him being possessive would do these things to you. Your breasts felt heavier, your nipples pebbled, and your core ached with a neediness you had never felt before.

"This..." Steve trailed off. He gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. "You're mine."

You blinked, taking a shallow breath. You needed to hear him say that again, needed to hear him say that while he was in you.

Steve shook his head again and backed you up against the wall once more. "You're mine." He buried his head in the crook of your neck and gave you a rough kiss against the sensitive skin. "Mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck for Steve to explore.

He pushed a knee between your legs and pried them open as much as your skirt would allow. His thick, muscled thigh rest on your lower thighs. If only you could hike this skirt up more, you thought, you'd be able to get some friction on your core. Your hips bucked and you licked your lips.

Were you really going to do this right here in the hallway? Steve tangled a hand in your hair and tugged roughly, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. To hell with this being a public space, you wanted Steve now. Your hands trailed down the blue button up he was wearing down to the gold buckle of his brown leather belt. You groaned in frustration, the belt lodged deep within the buckle.

"Steve Rogers and very horny girlfriend," echoed Fury's voice through the PA system. "Go fuck in your own house before I have you arrested."

Your hand froze, as did the rest of your body. How could you have forgotten you were in a public S.H.I.E.L.D. hallway with dozens of cameras? Nick Fury was practically watching the beginning of a porno. You moved your hands away from Steve's belt buckle and fixed your skirt. He stepped away from you, fixing his shirt. That's when you noticed his smirk. Had he planned all this? Realization hit you like a semi truck. Fury had exposed you all over the speakers. Speakers that sounded everywhere. Everywhere like in Loki's cell. After all the shameless flirting, Steve had proven to Loki that you were his.

You frowned. How could Steve have done this? It wasn't like him at all to dangle you like some prize.

"Real fucking mature, Steven."

"What's wrong, angel? You haven't spoken to me the whole ride home."

"Can it Steven," you snapped, tossing your purse on the kitchen counter. "You used me back there."

Steve scoffed. "Did I make a little scene in that hallway knowing Fury would say something? Maybe, sure. Did I know that Loki would hear? Yes. But, Angel, what was I supposed to do when you liked his flirting?"

You whirled on the ball of your foot toward Steve and pointed a finger at him. "You tricked me! I thought you were finally showing--I don't know, this dominant and possessive side? And I thought it was genuine, not some fucking show!"

Steve gave a heavy sigh. "Angel--"

"Don't fucking 'Angel' me, Steven." You pointed at him again, this time poking his chest. "I wanted to fuck you in that hallway. I was ready to fuck you in that hallway."

Steve grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you closer to him. "I was more than ready to fuck you in that hallway, too," he said, his voice a tad more gentle. "I would have fucked you against the glass of Loki's cell to claim you." A hot shiver ran down your spine and fluttered in your core. "I would have fucked my cum deep inside you until it ran down your legs for everyone to see. Especially him."

Your breath caught in your throat and the anger that was once boiling over in your blood had now dispersed. What replaced it was a deeply rooted lust that burned to your very core. Your blood, your body was on fire and the only way to sate it was to rip the clothes from your body and ride Steve until dawn.

"Do you want that, Angel?" Steve ran a hand down your arm and gently turned you around. His hand ran over your abdomen, his fingers catching in the buttons of your blouse. Your back was now flush against his chest and you felt something hard against your lower back. You breathed a shaky sigh of anticipation as he untucked the shirt from the tight skirt. His fingers worked to free the buttons and you shivered at the tension it caused your body.

You could only nod as the last button was freed, your chest nearly exposed. Your nipples hardened further at the coolness of your shared apartment, your lace bralette doing nothing to keep you warm.

He ran his hands up your bare stomach, then to the bottom of your bralette. His fingers dipped under the black, Lacey fabric and caressed the bottoms of your breasts. Another shaky sigh passed your lips and you rest your head back against shoulder. The feeling of his fingers sliding and squeezing your tender breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers had you squirming for more. Wonton mews fluttered through your lips and your own hands rest over his, begging to handle you more rough.

Warm, wet kisses trailed along your neck to the outmost corner of your jaw. Your skin tingled where his lips met your flesh, tingled and buzzed until you felt as if you were going to explode. Steve had never handled you like this, had never been so passionate with you before.

Sex had always been mostly simple with Steve. Standard missionary was the go-to, with the occasional cowgirl. Everything else was…uncharted territory. Of course, you didn’t mind the simplicity, but this…this was amazing.

You pushed your bottom against his hard bulge and whined softly. “Steve,” you mewled. “I need more—please.”

Steve paused his ministrations on your breasts, his breath shaky against your neck. He slid his hands out of your lacy bralette, pausing at the bottom. In an instant, his fingers were digging into the lace, ripping the fragile fabric in two. Goosebumps pimpled over your breasts as the cold air of your apartment enveloped you skin. You gasped softly, the sudden show of aggression catching you off guard. His hands found place at the hem of your skirt, pushing the tight professional ware down your ass.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Steve asked, his voice an octave lower.

You shakily stepped out of the skirt now pooled at your feet, now only standing in your opened blouse and a simple black thong. You shrugged the blouse to the floor, the remnants of your bralette falling with it. You turned around to face Steve in your nakedness.

“I need you,” you answered timidly, your gaze on the floor. “I need you inside me.” It was weird to tell him what you needed, having never spoken to each other during sex other than the occasional “you like that?” But you felt brave and…sexy. You took the smallest step closer, your fingers teasing the button of his jeans.

Steve let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You managed to undo the button one-handed and drag the zipper of his pants down, your fingers brushing against his clothed cock. You felt him twitch slightly, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged on your lips. He must be so hard, probably harder than he's ever been.

"Do you need me, too?" you asked, your hand fingering the hem of his boxers. Where was this braveness coming from? You slipped your hand inside his underwear, gently grabbing his cock. Your thumb swiped along the head of his penis, smearing his pre-cum.

Steve swallowed hard, and you could see the effort it took for him to bring his hand to caress your cheek. "I want you to suck my cock," Steve grunted.

Your thumb stopped its ministrations and you pulled your hand from his boxers. "No." You stepped back, looking Steve up and down.

Steve cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "'No'?" he repeated. He took a step towards you, and you took a step back, your lower back brushing against the kitchen island counter. Steve shook his head and pulled up the shirt he wore. Understandably, you were quite distracted by his chest and the dark hairs leading down to--

You let out a small yelp as Steve grabbed you by the backs of your knees and placed you on the counter. He forced your legs apart, running a finger over the thin g-string covering your heated mess. A finger pushed the thin fabric aside and delved inside your needy cunt. His finger flexed and curled almost instantly, and you let out a loud moan.

"You sound so needy," he growled, pulling his finger out. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, spreading your juices. "Is it me that's got you like this? Or him?" He shook his head, disgust shining through his features. "Slut."

You winced at the word, at the harshness of it. Did he really mean that? "Steve," you started, "of course it's you--" You were cut off with a loud moan pushing through your lips as Steve inserted two fingers inside you. His fingers curled once more, and with it your toes.

"This pussy belongs to me," he pumped his fingers inside you, his other hand pushing down his boxers and pants. "Your pussy belongs to me."

Without a warning, Steve's fingers abandoned your needy core, and in its place was his cock. The thickness stretched you out, and the head of his penis hit against your puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out inside you once more. His hands gripped your hips roughly, his thrusts just as rough. You cried out each time, nearly feeling him in your stomach. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. You had never been fucked like this before, and you relished in it. Relished in the way Steve's balls slapped against you with a wet snap. Relished in the way Steve made a mess of you--your wetness dripping down to the counter.

"I belong to you," you whimpered, back arching. Your hands gripped his thick biceps, your nails digging into his flesh.

Steve's thrusts faltered and he finally looked at you. He pulled you flush to his chest, your bare breasts against him. He gripped your chin and looked deep into your eyes. "Say it again."

You were caught aback, never having seen Steve so vulnerable before. You moved your hands up to rest on his shoulders. "I'm yours, Steve. Body and soul."

It was as if a switch had been pressed in Steve. One minute you were on the counter and the next you were bouncing against the wall. Steve thrust up into you, his cock never leaving the warmth of your pussy. His grip on your hips was ironclad as he fucking you on the wall. You screamed in bliss and in pain. You'd never been explored like this--Steve had never explored you like this. His cock was hitting places you didn't even know existed or felt good. He shifted his position, thrusting into you at a different angle and you saw stars. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as your orgasm washed through your body. Your legs wrapped around his torso, your ankles locking around each other.

Steve fucked you through your orgasm, sweat lining the both of your bodies. Your hands tangled in his hair and tugged lightly, another cry emanating from your lips. You ground your hips down against him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. You could feel another orgasm coming, could feel the tension in your body rise. Your fingers tightened on the strands of Steve's hair as another orgasm was nearing its peak. Your back arched as your body trembled with another orgasm, your legs shaking. Steve's thrusts faltered and he groaned loudly. His cock twitched inside you as he pushed himself as deep as he could in your battered cunt. He allowed himself to spill his seed within you, and you both stayed in that position for quite some time. Even when you felt his cock soften within you, you stayed like that, each breathing hard.

"Steve?" you breathed, untangling your fingers from his hair.

"Hmm?" he answered. His head rest on your shoulder, his breath fanning against your neck.

"Did you really mean that? That you'd fuck me in front of Loki?"

Steve lifted his head and looked at you. "Well, maybe not in front of someone--"

"But like," you paused timidly, "in public?"

Steve chuckled. "I wouldn't mind, angel. We can try it one day."

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erwinsvow · 6 months

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𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

summary: domestic bliss with agent hotchner is hard to come by. you take advantage of your time with him at home when you can.

word count: 1.4k

author's note: eeeeeee. cannot stop writing for this man. not bau!reader explicitly and also not smut explicitly, more in between. enjoy!!

The house you and Aaron buy is small, and in one word; picturesque. The outside panels are a soft, faded yellow and the shutters are brown.

It’s not a fixer-upper by any means, though Aaron talks often about the wood floors that will need to be redone in a few years, and the kitchen tile and backsplash that aren't in the condition he would quite like.

There’s other things too, like the downstairs bathroom with the peeling, floral patterned wallpaper and the carpet in Jack’s room. He worries about redoing the wallpaper—visions of hours of peeling it off and getting new sheets up and if there’s mold behind the paper, but you like it. It makes it feel like you’ve lived in this house your whole life.

Your shared bedroom is upstairs, down the hall from Jack and the first room off the stairs. You like the simplicity of this house most of all, nothing too grand or vain. When the realtor had taken you for a showing, Aaron was off on a case in Florida and Jack was at school. You felt silly touring alone, because it would have been easier to imagine living here with Aaron and Jack by your side, but you do it anyway.

You love Aaron’s apartment and you have more memories than you can count there—visions of making oatmeal raisin cookies with Jack and your first date with Aaron (a dinner that he cooked followed by a record playing softly and dancing in the living room) pop into your mind—but it’s running out of space, and it’s not quite like home.

This house is home in all the best ways. A big kitchen with an island, where you can picture a cookie jar and a tall counter stool where Jack sits and eats his oatmeal before school.

The living room has big windows and there’s a smaller playroom off the foyer, and in an instant you can picture the rest of your life here. You tell Aaron that night on the phone, and the three of you pay a visit the following weekend. You’re signing papers and packing up boxes two weeks later.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been much time at all, but you realize you’re coming up on almost a year of this house. Your house, the both of yours, the family house. This will be Jack and his siblings’ childhood home.

If you can ever get your husband into bed, that is.

It’s eight-thirty on Friday night. Jack has been at a birthday party-sleepover night since about five. Aaron returned from a case in Michigan less than twenty four hours ago. You had been asleep, late Thursday evening, when he came back home.

He’d gone to the office today and then picked up Jack from school to bring him over to the sleepover. You had triple checked that he’d packed everything he needed—pajamas, toothbrush, his emergency Epi-pen—but forgot the birthday boy’s present in the back seat of your car.

You and Aaron drive back over to deliver the gift, make polite small talk with the parents, and then rush out of there.

Aaron had set up a whole plan. Dinner reservations, dessert at the ice cream place near the house, and then a quiet night in, which was long awaited and desperately needed.

However, nothing goes as planned. You miss the reservation window by ten minutes trying to get Jack’s friend the stupid gift—a Lego Star-Wars kit—before they open presents and cut cake. The ice cream shop is closed due to renovations. You return home to missed calls from your boss and a stack of Aaron’s paperwork on the counter.

“Take out it is,” Aaron says, rifling through the drawer next to the oven. There’s more flyers in there than he thinks, and he still can’t find the one he’s looking for. “Honey? Where’s the menu for that one Indian place-”

“Side of the fridge,” you call back, typing away on your laptop. He doesn’t have to finish his sentences anymore. It makes him smile every time. He locates the menu and brings it to you on the couch.

“What’d you think? The usual?”

“I have a couple ideas.” You are starving, and not for food.

You’re in Aaron’s lap before you can even think about it. He has big hands, very big, very strong hands, that grip you by the waist and hoist you on top of him in a moment. It takes your breath away, momentarily, and then he really takes your breath away.

He kisses you like it’s his first and last time ever being able to do so. His hands roam all over your body and it makes every part of you tingle in anticipation. He grabs your ass with both hands and then slaps it hard—hard enough that it hurts, but he knows you well enough to welcome the moan you emit into his mouth.

Your hands run through his hair and then focus on loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. It’s hard to think, though, with him beneath you and his hardness pressing against you in all the best ways. You want to stay here on the couch and grind yourself against him until you’re both sweating and cumming—but he has other plans.

Always a gentleman, always patient, he pulls away from the kiss and lets you catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, noses touching, and you briefly take in that after so many years of knowing him, Aaron will always take your breath away.

“Why’d you stop?” you question innocently, and he thinks he’ll lose his mind. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Why? I think this is perfect.” You lean back in to kiss him hard, losing yourself in the sweet taste of his mouth—always coffee—and his aroma, which draws you in no matter where you are.

He laughs into your mouth, pulling away again. You make a soft noise of displeasure, but it all goes away when he lifts you up to carry you to your bedroom.

He puts you down first, and gets rid of the tie you undid downstairs. You watch with big eyes while he hovers over you, until he finally leans down and your lips meet again. It’s all too natural to take off your dress and spread your legs and help him pull off his button-up, moaning into your kisses and enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, pulling softly.

You like Aaron all of the time, but you’re incredibly biased when he’s like this. You’ve never had to ask for anything, and he somehow knows everything you like. He lines more kisses along your neck, down to your chest. Just as you hear him, low and heady, murmuring, “Tell me what you want,” and getting ready to answer, needy out of your mind and ready to tell him that you need to be fucked, hard, now, his phone goes off.

You exhale. Aaron drops his head in defeat against your chest.

“I’m sorry, honey, hold on a minute,” he starts, leaning over you to get his phone from the nightstand.

“Who is it?” “JJ. It must be a case, I’ll just-”

“Wait, wait,” you whisper. “If it’s a case you can go in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” he questions, eyebrow raised. You look back at him sheepishly.

“Okay, fifteen minutes. I mean, nothing’s gonna change in a half an hour, right? Fifteen minutes here and then fifteen minutes to get there.”

“Honey, I really shouldn’t-”

“I mean, think about it. Everyone else probably isn’t even there yet. You’ll just be sitting around waiting for them before you start. So really, I’m saving you time.”

You both lock eyes and burst into laughter.

“I’ll get your go-bag,” you say, as he answers JJ’s call. You’re about to get up, looking for your haphazardly discarded dress and Aaron’s shirt, when you feel Aaron grip your forearm.

“Hotchner. Okay, JJ, thanks. I’ll be there in forty.” He hangs up and looks back at you, frozen in place. “You have twenty-five minutes to tell me what you want.” You squeal when he pulls you back into bed, kissing you hard.

He gets to the office an hour later.

#eeeeeee. i love this man #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds #hotch imagine #hotch x reader

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sunlightmurdock · 1 month

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Operation Apollo | 2.9 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, distressing themes throughout but especially towards the end of the chapter. Graphic violence, dangerous situations, revenge, wc: 3.5k

…

Jake doesn’t sleep well anymore. This seems to be a settled fact. From the day that Dani died, he just doesn’t rest like he used to. When he was with you, things got better, for a bit. They’re bad again now.

Now, he spends his nights tossing and turning and wandering to the bathroom of his hotel room to splash water on his face to remind himself that his nightmares aren’t real. It’s been two days since he heard your voice, and growing harder to convince himself of reality.

Allen promised to check in in the morning. It’s technically morning now, as the breaching sun threatens the skyline. Morning. It’s too fucking vague. Dawn and 11:59 leaves Jake a lot of time to pace the San Diego shore.

Nothing settles him these days.

He leans his palms forwards on the bathroom counter, and cocks his head to the side. His therapist had once told him that it wasn’t helpful to try to remember the day Dani had died. It always ate at him that he couldn’t really remember receiving the news. He remembered the before, and god, he wishes he didn’t remember the after — but he could never remember hearing the news for the first time.

He remembers the abruptness of it all.

Convincing himself that her voice was still fresh in his mind in the evenings was the only way he could keep her alive. It hadn’t worked much. He doesn’t think of her in the evenings much anymore, and she’s still dead.

When your voice echoed in his ear a few minutes ago, it’s the first thing he thought of — that her voice outlived her.

The cold water drips down his chin, saturating days old stubble, falling in thin droplets onto his naked chest. His eyes are narrowed, smaller than normal and heavy with sleep. His shoulders are hunched. His skin looks barren without the trace of your touch.

His bed is unmade and the sheets are wrinkled from the sleepless night he’s leaving behind. He inhales deeply and considers just taking a shower and starting his day before the morning sun.

Then, his night-morning medley is interrupted. Three calm knocks on the door. He closes his eyes, shutting out his reflection and the fluorescent noise of the bathroom, and tries to reason with himself.

Two further knocks confirm to him that the sound is real. It’s not part of another one of his bad dreams.

Jake walks barefooted out of the bathroom, and leans up to the peephole. He’s unsure, really, of who he is expecting to see outside of the door at five in the morning, but the sight of two secret service agents standing there makes his blood run cold and his mind fill with thoughts of the first woman that he loved.

Though he can’t remember that day, he knows it was less of a formal affair. He can’t take more bad news. He pulls back the chain and turns the lock with little thought about what they could be there for, not wanting to let his mind linger on the worst possibility.

“Agent Seresin,” The taller one says, his thin lips stretching into a tighter line as he looks the man before him up and down. If Jake had been sleeping better, maybe he would have gotten dressed before answering the door. The morning air chills his bare chest and thighs, his underwear doing little in terms of providing warmth. “You’ll have to come with us, sir.”

Sir. The word makes the hair at the back of Jake’s neck prickle, and his stomach tighten. Sir, please calm down. He remembers hearing that on the day Dani died.

“Where is she?” Jake asks.

“We can’t say.” The shorter, dark-haired one won’t meet Jake’s gaze. That’s good. They would have told him if you were dead. “But we need you to come with us. Now.”

The entire West Coast network is abuzz as Jake is driven up to the house in the hills. As the count ticks over into seventeen hours since you were last seen, and four hours since that video was received, everybody who is anybody is working on your disappearance.

Allen was the first to report it yesterday. You had been gone for two hours already by the time he came to check on you, and found Jake’s bed empty. It’s his fault. He had assumed you were finally sleeping, and he had waited too long to check on you.

By the time he realised, you could have already been out of the country for all he knew. His experience in this field told him a lot of things — not a single one of them reassuring.

He first alerted the West Coast liaison. After confirming there were no active hits on your location in a six mile radius of the house, things went nationwide. He considered calling Jake then, but there were too many eyes on him to sneak a call.

Once nationwide, your parents had been alerted. Matthew landed on a private airstrip just after midnight, thirty-five minutes before the video footage was received. A dark, grainy two-minute long video with no timestamp.

The first thirty seconds is almost silent. The camera is focused, unmoving on your face. You’re staring at something above the lens, the man behind it, with pure venom in your eyes. You’re already hurt, bleeding from your nose and your hairline, your eye sore looking and swollen.

From the second that the voice first rings out, Matthew recognises exactly who it is. It’s the first question they ask of him — if he knows who could have wanted to hurt you. The answer is more complicated, because it’s not that Ellis would have wanted to hurt you specifically. Ellis would have wanted to hurt Matthew.

But, Ellis hurts all kinds of people every day, for reasons that span far beyond simple dislike. It’s why the debt between the two of them is something far beyond what money can settle.

The instructions on the video are clear.

Shadows dance across cracked concrete walls, the lone lightbulb wobbles on its wire above your head. Your wrists itch and burn, your arms stiff and your neck aching. You lost the feeling in your legs a while ago. The blood from your nose has dried around your mouth and chin, your eye has started to swell. Your head throbs.

You have been alone for two hours.

Occasionally, someone will pass by the door. No one seems to care much about checking on you. As the hours have dragged on, you’ve stopped moving so much. Getting out of your restraints is decidedly impossible. Your eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each slow blink.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Your eyelids flutter, your vision blurred and unsteady as you search the shadows of the room for the voice. For his voice; Jake’s voice. Even like this, you know what he sounds like.

“Come on, honey,” Fingers brush across your hair, soft, unbothered by the blood crusted into your hairline. “Keep your eyes open. I know it hurts.”

It does hurt. You’ve never hurt like this before. Wrapped in bubble-wrap, hidden behind thick walls and tall fences — maybe if they hadn’t kept you so safe, it wouldn’t all hurt so bad now.

“Jake?” Your throat is dry, your voice is hoarse, the rag cuts into the corners of your lips.

“I’m here.” He isn’t, and the realisation makes you want to cry. You can pretend he’s here, and pretend he’s telling you to fight all you want. He isn’t here, and you’re tired.

Ellis’ terms have been circling your mind for all of the hours you have been alone. You, for her. Your father, in exchange for you, as to be delivered by Jake.

The government would never let it happen. Jake would never let it go. Your heavy eyelids droop shut and you leave them that way.

When they’re closed, you’re not here either. You’re at home, and in Jake’s bed. Your cheek is on his chest and he’s asleep, you rise and fall with each one of his breaths, your fingers smooth across the heart-shaped, thumb-sized birthmark on his hip.

The morning sun is shining, the bedroom walls are white and the mattress is soft. Jake’s right arm is draped around your shoulders, cradling you to his chest. There, it’s safe to fall asleep.

A little after nine, the bright sunlight spills into the living room. Another sunny morning, like the world hadn’t been turned upside down overnight. Jake has never felt quite so out of place in this house. It feels colder without you here. He stares at the dark, blank screen in front of him, sick to his stomach.

Your picture is gone, but the image is burned in his mind. Your bloodied, bruised face staring right at the lens, your lips pressed into line, adamantly refusing to speak. God, just speak. Do what they tell you to do. Please.

Slowly, he leans forwards and hits the button to replay the video. It’s his fourth time watching it, now. There it is again, your tear-filled eyes and the stubborn scowl on your exhausted face, the long fingers curled around your chin, angling your face towards the lens.

Jake has been filled in with some need-to-know information. Ellis Armstrong was an associate, and informant and a business partner of Matthew’s from before the elections. He’s a bad, bad man.

Outside of the need to know — Matthew is the only one who really knows the extent of what this guy will do, of what he has done on behalf of Matthew himself in the past. Of how far this debt reaches.

Matthew, I know that you’re far too much of a coward to face me in person. You have done an excellent job of avoiding me so far. How lucky I was that your clever little girl sought me out.

Jake turns his head. He studies the skulking man in the corner of the room, his head turned toward the ground and his fingers trembling as his hands wring together in front of him.

Things hadn’t ever seemed this serious back then. At the start of it all, it was just a little maintenance, making a little indiscretion disappear. Then, the favours had gotten bigger — and then they had stopped being favours at all.

Jake and Matthew are far from alone in this living room. They’re surrounded by agents with years of combined experience, government advisors and White House big-wigs. And yet, Jake is the only one that Matthew can’t bring himself to look at.

I know you won’t come to me yourself. That’s why she’s so perfect. We’ve all seen the news. If you won’t come to me yourself, the bodyguard will bring you to me. You, for her.

Apparently the message was supposed to reach Jake privately, which is why he was intercepted. He sits with the thought for a moment as he stares down the man who raised you; he would trade him in to keep you safe in a heartbeat.

That’s why the first point of call was to bring him here. Here, they have an eye on him. They can’t risk him trying anything stupid.

You have twenty-four hours to reach the location provided. Say goodbye, sweetheart. The faceless fingers curl into the hollows of your cheeks and Jake grits his teeth. His gaze flickers up, and this time Matthew is watching him.

“You’re going.” Jake tells him, from the spot on the couch where he had kissed you for the first time. Everything had unfurled here, in this house, up until Jake had taken you home.

It’s a shell of a home and it always was. Cold and white, almost clinical in its modernity. It’s the place you met but it’s not your home, and it’s not Jake’s. He just decided that. The two of you will have a real home.

His gaze is a cold green, steely and serious. There’s a movement around the room, uncomfortable murmurs of disagreement as the crowd prepares to stop the bodyguard. “This is your fault. You didn’t protect her, and she’s in danger. You’re going to fix this.”

“No, Agent, that’s not how we’re going to—” The serious looking man in the Armani suit, who considers himself responsible for Matthew’s safety here, doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

“I’m done with the plans.” Jake decides, pushing himself up from the couch. He makes no efforts to step towards the president, this isn’t a threatening motion, it’s merely a man who won’t stand back idly once again. He gives a cool shake of his head. “The plans are what got us here. You… deserve this. You fucking owe her this.”

Matthew swallows dryly, loosening his tie.

“Jake,” Allen steps up from his perch by the wall, giving a soft shake of his head as he reaches out to rest a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “We’ve got to keep our heads about this.”

It’s not a sudden thing, that the attitude in the room is that Jake is the crazy one here, but the mood shifts nonetheless as he rounds on the older man and points a finger squarely at him.

”Don’t. Don’t say a damn word to me — where were you?” he spits.

“I… she promised me—” Allen shakes his head dumbly, blaming himself more for this than your own father does. He’s blind with worry, that image of your bloodied face just won’t leave his mind.

“You promised me.” Jake bites.

Silence falls across the room for a beat. Manny wipes his nose with the back of his hand, squeezing his eyes shut as tears spill silently down his cheeks.

When he had gotten into this business, he had first felt invincible. A background in Tactical Ops and a pristine track record, he told everyone that he was perfect for the job. Then, he had met you and he had realised quickly he was out of his depth — but he liked you, and you reminded him that there was more to this line of work than the rules.

He hadn’t ever thought he would let you down like this.

“I’ll go.”

Jake turns his head. He isn’t impressed. He isn’t pleased. It’s barely enough, after what he has put you through. Looking at Jake, your father knows that.

“Mr. President—“

“Those were his terms,” His eyes are shut now. He can’t bare to look at the man before him, knowing that this wouldn’t be a difficult decision for him to make in the slightest. Jake would put his life on the line for you without thought. He shivers through an inhale, “We come up with a plan around them, and we get her out of there.”

“But, sir—“

“Figure it out. You can keep both of us safe. That’s your job.” Matthew exhales finally. Opening his eyes, he finds Jake once more and finds himself chilled to the core. The look on Jake’s face is finally, wholly sincere. If it came down to it, Jake wouldn’t give a fuck about keeping Matthew safe.

“Sir—“

“Figure it out, god damnit, or I’ll take myself.” Matthew bites out finally. It’s not like he has much of a choice in walking away from this, anyway.

When Jake closes his eyes, and thinks of you afraid and alone, it makes his choice easy.

Matthew feels like a clock within him has started ticking. As the men and women around him scramble to draw together a plan that will keep him and his daughter alive, he feels it counting down his last moments.

He tries not to look up, because when he does he finds Jake looking at him every time.

It’s like Jake can hear it too, that awful ticking. Time passing by. Counting down the moments.

“Catherine?” Matthew calls weakly, rubbing two fingers against his temple from his spot in the corner of the living room. His secretary turns attentively and graces him with her full attention. “I’d like to make a statement, and I’d like you to write it down. Do you understand?”

Jake can’t sit and listen to them anymore, but that’s not what makes go wandering. He starts out in the kitchen, looking out over the pool. The place he had first seen you. Then, he takes the stairs and winds up in his room. His bed is unmade here, as it was in his hotel.

His shoes are quiet against the floor as he walks over to the bed and lowers himself to the edge of it. His fingers smooth over the faint dips in the pillow, where your head had last laid.

Jake has money from his time in the Navy. From his work in the service. He hasn’t had much to spend it on. The job involves living with clients, expenses are usually covered, and his sisters won’t let him spoil his nieces too much. Enough for a house. One with a big bed, so you can stretch out all you want and still wind up draped across his chest.

The thought almost makes him smile, and then a lump in his throat threatens to make that smile spill into tears.

He hopes he gets that.

He can only imagine what you’re doing now. If you’re still stuck to that chair, if your eye is hurting you, if they have touched you again since. He’s not even sure if you have water. The one thing he does know is that you’ll be waiting for him. You’ll know that he’ll get you out of this.

A little after noon, the plan is as good as it is going to get. Twenty four hours since your disappearance, sixteen hours until Ellis’ imposed deadline.

Jake stands with his back to the front door as the President listens to the briefing once more. There are back-up plans on backup plans and protocols coming out of his ears, and Jake doesn’t care one bit.

Allen doesn’t like the look on his face.

“Jake,” The older man broaches the topic softly, trying not to alarm the already flighty ex-pilot. “I know you’re going to do what you need to do. I can’t stop you. But, if this goes south — and you’re responsible, you’ll never see her again.”

Jake knows what he’s trying to say. If he lets the President go, he’ll suffer the consequences. As much as he wants that house, and those lazy mornings in that big bed with you, he would let it all go if he could know that you would never be in danger because of this man again.

“I know the plan.” Jake tells him calmly.

Ellis isn’t an unintelligent man; he knows that if Jake was going to be able to deliver Matthew successfully, it wouldn’t be alone. That makes things a little easier — they don’t have to be as sneaky.

But, if Ellis has a feeling that the trade is a set up, they’ll both be dead. Jake won’t let that happen.

It’s just himself, and your father for the journey there. It’s two hours from your place, and there’s practically a motorcade escort most of the way. Once they hit the five mile out mark, security drops back, and for the first time — they feel alone.

“So, what did you actually do?” Jake squeezes his hands around the leather of the wheel, with no real interest in small talk. He shoots a look towards the cars in his peripheral, and then at each mirror. Last, comes his scope of the skyline. Habit. He was a good agent.

There’s no point lying anymore.

“You’ve got to understand, Ellis is a powerful man.”

“More powerful than the president?” Jake scoffs.

Matthew makes an uncomfortable sound of consideration. He wouldn’t expect Jake to understand.

“Having powerful friends makes him more powerful. You know?” He tries to explain it anyway, it beats listening to the silent radio and the tyres rolling. “I let him do me a lot of favors. Money, marketing, making people go away.”

He looks across and studies Matthew’s face for a moment.

“Not with money.” He realises, watching the stretch of road. There’s one turning, the only one Jake can see. That’s it.

Matthew looks ahead of him, colourless as he gives a weak shake of his head. “No. Not with money.”

It’s already in his head that your father is a scumbag, but it stings Matthew to realise that Jake isn’t surprised by this. It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care about what someone like Jake thinks — and he supposes he wouldn’t, if it wasn’t for you.

“So what’d you do to him?” Jake prompts.

“I tried to get away.” Matthew says quietly. The wheels turn and the car pulls into an empty parking lot at the rear side of an old hangar. “Put some distance between the two of us — between him and my family, my career. It’s not the kind of thing he was willing to let go.”

“Go figure.” Jake answers bitterly. The car pulls to a stop and the ticking rings out loudly in Matthew’s ears. Jake turns his head, green eyes colder than ever. “You ready?”

…

tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

#operation Apollo #Jake x Apollo #Jake Seresin #Jake hangman Seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #Jake Seresin au #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin smut #top gun: maverick #tgm fic

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loislane41319 · 3 months

Text

The calm after the storm.

Pairing: Dad!Spencer Reid x reader

Wordcount: 718

Summary: Spencer comes home after being kidnapped.

Warnings: None. I imagined this happening after the events of the Criminal Minds episodes Believer (13x22) and 300 (14x01), but it's not necessary to understand the story.

Note: This is not my best work, but I still put in effort and I'm proud of it anyway. Any feedback is welcome, just be kind about it.

Also, even if all you do is read this without leaving a like or comment or anything else; thank you. I might never know you read this, but it still means a lot.

Story:

The whole apartment smelled like fresh baked sweets. The entire kitchen was covered in bowls, kitchen utensils and flour that you were itching to clean. But, hearing your daughter laugh and seeing how exited she was pressing all the different shaped cookie cutters into the rolled out dough, made that itch disappear like snow in the sunlight. The sound of keys hitting the bottom of a bowl made you turn around. It couldn’t be…

The only person it could be was your husband, but it couldn’t be him. He was an FBI agent with the Behavioural Analysis Unit. His job was dangerous and yesterday you had gotten one of the two calls you had been dreading since the start of your relationship. Your husband had been kidnapped. Your hearts weight had tripled the moment you heard. Your husbands boss had promised their team would find him, but in what state? The only guarantee in this situation was that there were no guarantees. All you could think about were your daughters. Your little girls had just turned four and you had no idea how to raise them without their father. You couldn’t tell them what happened, so, in an attempt to distract them this morning, you were baking cookies with one of them, the other still sleeping. Until you heard that one sound you didn’t expect.

“Daddy!” Your daughters voice pulled you out of your thoughts as she jumped off her step stool and ran toward the door. Your eyes followed the little girl until she flew into the arms of the person who had just entered your apartment. The man you had been married to for over seven years. Your husband and the father of your children. He was okay. He was safe. He was home.

You walked towards your husband as he hugged his daughter. “Hi pumpkin! I missed you!” He told the four year old in his arms. “I missed you too, daddy! Mommy and I made cookies, do you wanna see?” Abby asked enthusiastically. “Absolutely, but where’s Amy?” Her dad asked her about her twin sister as you watched in awe a few feet away. “Amy is still sleeping.” Abby told him. “Ah, in that case, I’m just gonna say hi to mommy and then you can show me all the cookies you made, okay?” Your husband asked your little girl. She nodded and so her dad put her down on the ground, opening his arms for you. He didn’t have to wait even a single second. Without having to think about it, you stepped closer, wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him as close as you possibly could. Feeling your husbands body against your own, caused you to release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I was really scared.” You breathed into his ear. “I was too, but I’m here now. I’m home.” Spencer whispered as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you.” You whispered back, mirroring his actions. “I love you.” He whispered back, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He loosened his hold on you just enough to press his lips on yours. You wished you could stay in that moment forever, but you had to breathe. As you pulled away, you heard a door open behind you. “Daddy!” You heard and moved aside just fast enough for your husband to catch the little girl running straight at him. She wrapped her little arms tightly around her father and hid her little face in his neck. “Hey peanut, you okay?” Spencer asked her. “I missed you, daddy.” The little girl answered. “Aw, I missed you too, sweetheart. Hey, mommy and Abby made cookies. Do you want to go see them?” Her dad then asked her. That caught Amy’s attention. She loosed her hold on her dad and turned towards you. “You made cookies without me?” Your little girl then asked you. Her big brown eyes and quivering lip almost broke your heart. “We did, but we still need to decorate them and we couldn’t possible decorate all those cookies by ourselves.” You told her, exaggerating a little, hoping it would prevent a tantrum. “Can daddy help?” Amy then asked. “Absolutely.” You smiled, happily knowing your family was together, healthy and safe.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds fic #bau #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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ellieslaces · 2 months

Text

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!agent!reader x ashley graham

synopsis: ashley graham's biggest weakness is attractive people, especially kind, attractive people. she was not expecting to be saved by two of the hottest, kindest people she'd ever met, much less to end up crushing on the both of them

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; tension; lots of flirtatious banter; ashley shooting her shot for an entire fic basically; mentions of reader being bisexual; light smut; kissing (f!f & f!m); one bed trope; forced proximity; no real smut bc idk how to write a threesome :(

notes: takes place on the way back from Spain (technically post RE4R); one bed-ish trope (r&leon share a bed, and a room with ashley); ashley is sort of confused about her sexuality; semi-established relationship (r&leon); really more of a sibling dynamic between ashley and leon (it sounds weird, but its balanced in the actual fic, i promise)

word count: 6.13k (i’m so sorry)

chloe talks: was this entirely inspired by @postersofleon ? yeah, i read this post a week or so ago and i'm losin' sleep over it. so full credits to @postersofleon for the plot! luv their lil' drabble :) also, sorry this isn't more of a threesome fic. if it were a triple female threesome, i could work with that, but add a dick into it, i'm clueless. anyways, enjoy ashley fumbling for this whole fic (luv her, i just can't help embarrassing her shes so cute). also, please appreciate this, i wrote around 80% of this while i was supposed to be studying for an exam. that’s on adhd and procrastination :)

now playing: Nohings Gonna Hurt You Baby; Cigarettes After Sex

It is entirely possible that blondes were, indeed, your weakness. Sure, over the years, you'd come to realize there was something especially alluring about lighter hair - possibly the way it reminded you of the sun, or how each strand looked like spun gold. Although, what seemed to seal your fate was the ever dangerous pairing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh, how alluring and damning was the color of icy blue coupled with silvery, silken strands.

For a time, you believed your weakness was encompassed only within your field partner, Leon S. Kennedy. God, how handsome was that agent. Not only handsome, but brave, and kind - awkwardly so, but it really is the principle of the thing. It was painstakingly obvious to everyone, other than Leon it seemed, that you were completely and forlornly in love with him. It seemed you were equally as blind to the evidence that Leon Kennedy was also miserably in love with you.

But the one person who noticed it upon first glance was Ashley Graham. Not only for the clear obviousness of the situation, but because the feeling was entirely, and unfortunately mutual. And it was this girl who also awoke the realization within you that Leon was not the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed person you found enticing.

Though, you were not the only one in this clandestine triad who had an impending weakness for certain types of people. No, you were not, Ashley had an Achilles heel for graciously kind people. Not just kind, but attractive. Not in a shallow or superficial way, but to say more that a person would catch her eye. She had no pre-existing physical type - no particular hair color, eye color, or even height preference. Just that they be kind. And much to the First Daughter's dismay, you were both horribly kind. In your own respective ways, of course.

Leon — as aforementioned — was awkwardly kind, despite how well he meant. He never knew exactly how to word his concern, or how to come about comforting someone. It was usually said in simple phrases such as “you okay?” or in way of one of many snarky comments he had stored in the deep recesses of his mind. Ashley thought he was funny; sometimes.

You, on the other hand, were painfully sweet to her. Always reassuring her that she was okay, and you were going to keep her safe. Field medic, that’s how Leon explained your role in her rescue. You were there to keep her and Leon healthy and in one piece, which you were startlingly good at. Any bruise or cut she procured was immediately treated by your sweet disposition and skilled hands. She liked how gentle you were with her.

So yes, Leon was kind in an awkward manner, and you were kind in a practical sense. And that devastating combination was her inevitable downfall.

From the moment you and Leon found her in that church, she knew she was fucked. Because, how could people look that good while doing the sort of jobs you had? There was no way, no way she would ever be able to form coherent sentences around you two. But, somehow, by some miracle, she got on with you both quite well. Despite the obvious moments of third-wheel-ism because you and Leon were so close.

There where multiple reoccurring occasions where Ashley suspected the pair of you may be together. Or at least fucking on the side. Because no two people who are just partners have that dynamic. The constant tension, the way Leon could be protective or even overbearing sometimes. The way you would rush to his side to patch up his wounds — no matter how small and minuscule they were — after a fight. Sometimes, despite how endearing it could be, Ashley was annoyed. Sure, you two had known each other for an extended period of time and had just met Ashley that day. But, it became so aggravating when you would consult each other without the inclusion of Ashley.

Many times you would apologize to her, expressing how sorry you were for leaving her out of conversations or hypothetical battle plans. It wasn’t that either of you thought she was stupid or couldn’t handle it. No, it was more along the lines that you were used to it just being the two of you. There was rarely ever a third party involved — other than Hunnigan chatting away in your ear pieces of course — in these types of situations.

Ashely was smitten, to put it lightly. She’d made several attempts to quote-unquote ‘shoot her shot’ with Leon. Little comments of how brave he was, how thankful she was for his saving her. Even calling him her ‘hero’ on one occasion or another. His name had posted permanent residence in her vocabulary it seemed.

However, her means of flattery with you was completely different. She was a little more bold with you, seeing as you were more of an open person than Leon was. She partook in the cliche, yet never failing flirtatious mannerisms — simple touches, giggling at your jokes, or simply sticking to your side in dangerous situations. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice, no, you just turned a conscious blind eye to it all. Ashley was a college girl, a sorority girl, a privileged girl. She was probably used to using flattery to get what she wanted, to gain the attention she so desperately thrived on.

Though as your time in the hostile Spanish village went on, you came to realize that it wasn’t superficial, Ashley’s flattery toward you and your field partner. Absolutely not, far from it. You realized after Leon had carried her to Luis’ laboratory and you managed to get the machine working to expel the parasite from her body, that Ashley was totally and completely smitten with the pair of you. She was attached in the worst way. And that would be your inevitable downfall.

Leon was consciously blind to it. Your partner — no matter his selfless tendencies and his awkwardly kind nature — was melancholic. He had a firm belief he was predestined to be miserable. That there was always another shoe waiting to drop. He didn’t deserve happiness, peace, love, a good life. So, he ignored it. He ignored how Ashley was equally as taken with him as she was with you. He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t even act like he noticed. Oh, but you did.

You saw the attachment so clearly by the time the three of you had managed to escape the crumbling island via Ada Wong’s gifted jet ski that Ashely was so attached to the pair of you. She’d offered positions on her own personal detail to you, claiming she could put a word in with her father. Denials were made, kind smiles and the shaking of heads. Too kind of an offer and you liked your jobs, is what you’d told her. That wasn’t at all what you were thinking though.

Post a Hunnigan meltdown over your earpieces, the three of you were told to stay the night in a shabby, rundown little local hotel in a larger town a couple dozen miles south of the village. Still in Spain, still tired, still craving a warm shower. One room, two beds. Great, one of you was stuck sleeping with someone. Ashely offered for one of you to have a bed to yourself, she’d sleep with the other. Not a great idea. You and Leon — having spent many awkward and difficult missions together, so this was not strange to either one of you — decided on giving Ashley a bed to herself and taking the other together

If you’d been alone, oh how your lovestruck little heart would have burst. Sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy, the object of your affection. The sole performer in your wildest — and wettest — dreams. But you weren’t alone. Ashley was in the room, a matter of feet away, in her own double sized bed.

If she hadn’t been — to be vulgar and completely honest — nothing would have stopped you from fucking him then and there. The tension between the pair of you had been growing thicker since your arrival in Spain. It was thick, painfully so, and also horrifically obvious not only to you, but yet again, to Ashley. For the longer stretch of the mission, she’d expected a grand confession at any moment. A breakdown caused by a dangerous situation that ensued a moment of emotional and even physical vulnerability. But, to her dismay and yours, that never happened. Because, above all things, Leon was professional for a lack of a better word. He wasn’t going to allow his emotions to jeopardize the mission.

And so no breakdown of emotional distress and vulnerability played out. No confession of hearts bleeding for the other were cried out. Part of you was glad it hadn’t happened that way. But the larger part of your soul which was dedicated to Leon had wished it had. You longed for the day he realized he needed you too. But, to maintain professionalism and dignity, neither of you made such admissions.

Warm showers were taken in rotation in the tiny excuse for a bathroom. The shower was small and permanently stained with grime, but really was clean as the owner swore. The shower head was one of the older ones from the seventies that made the water come out in a dribble, then a forceful rainfall that hurt your back. The toiletries provided by the hotel were small and cheap, but you were clean. That’s all that mattered.

Sans dried blood and grime, you sat on Ashley’s bed, cross legged as you patched up each one of her injuries. Ashley had been the first to shower, after a fifteen minute debate with the two of you over who should go first. She had a few bandages and exposed scrapes that needed to be re-cleaned. So, with gentle hands you did so as Leon took use of his turn to shower.

“Looks good, no signs of infection so far. But, like I said before, I can’t tell too much without the right equipment.” You reassured Ashely as you finished patching up a cut on her arm and began to put your first aid kit back together.

“Thanks,” Ashley nodded, inspecting her scrape riddled skin. Small bruises and surface cuts were beginning to make their appearance, telltale signs of the brutality the three of you had endured in that village.

“Let me know if you feel feverish or see any swelling. That could mean infection.” You offered, being kind but stern.

“‘Kay,” the girl nodded, smiling up at you as you let out a sigh, leaning back on your hands on the bed.

You looked at her, smiling softly as your head tilted to the side a little. “Need me to kiss it better?”

At this, Ashley’s eyes went wide, her cheeks dusted with pink. You felt a little bad then, you just tried to ease the tension. “S’okay, Ashley. I was just playing.” You laughed, your tone lighthearted as you placed a gentle hand on her knee with an equally gentle smile.

It seemed the touch was worst than the comment. Ashley’s entire face went aflame, her eyes wide, and large as she stared at you. An uneasy ache settled in your chest, uncertainty lingering in the air as your smile faded. The initial shock between the pair of you didn’t last long as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Jesus, you could’ve left me some hot water.” Leon grumbled as he stepped out into the room, lips downturned and brows etched in an annoyed frown.

The three of you were now paused as Leon’s eyes fell on you and Ashely — or more-so on the hand that rested on Ashley’s knee. Reality seemed to snap into place all at once for you, yanking your hand back and standing up.

“Let me check you out.” You mumbled, clearing your throat as you picked up the first aid kit and took residence on your own bed.

“No, I’m fine. Check on Ashley,” Leon shook his head, damp blond strands sticking to his forehead.

“Already did. Just finished. Your turn, whether you like it or not.” You stated, your tone final as you looked up at Leon, brows raised.

The agent let out a huff of agitation, grumbling something indiscernible as he sat down on the bed beside you. You began to gently inspect Leon's wounds- some small, others more intense. Despite his prior hesitation to be taken care of, he was stoic about it all. He sat still, unmoving, silent as you worked to disinfect and cover each wound with fresh bandages. The silence in the room was loud, startlingly uncomfortable as you patched Leon up.

A quick glance over at Ashley as you finished bandaging a deep cut that you'd quickly stitched up on the field showed her wide eyes. Wide baby blue focused on the way your fingers gently worked, how graceful and careful they were again the alabaster tone of Leon's skin.

"Doing okay over there, blondie?” Leon inquired, a small smirk playing on his face as he spotted Ashley's startling gaze on the wounds decorating his skin. He had mistook her fascination of your hands as nervousness of his wounds. But you knew. You could tell what her gaze meant.

"Oh, yeah. M'fine." Ashley recovered very quickly, to your surprise. Well, maybe it wasn't just your hands that had her enraptured, Leon was sitting on the bed, shirtless.

"Alright, hero-boy, all better." You smiled at Leon as you patted his bicep - earning a small, almost inaudible grumble from him - and moving to close your medical kit. You stood, tucking away in your pack and let out a sigh. "’Kay, l for one, am fucking exhausted."

“Yeah, me too,” Ashely murmured, an aura of discomfort still radiating from her. She offered a kind, if not awkward smile to the pair of you before settling into the bed, pulling the overs over her shoulders. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” you smiled, shuffling over to the bed you and Leon were sharing. You sat down on the edge, eyes trained on the back of Ashley’s head — the blonde hair, how it shimmered against the dim light of the single lamp in the room. You felt almost as if you weren’t really there.

“Need me to check you?” Leon asked, snapping you back to reality. You jolted a bit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Oh, nah, I’m okay.” You shook your head, clearing your throat as you settled into the bed, flicking off the lamp.

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, getting into the bed too, still in just a pair of pants. Everyone was in the barest of clothing. You in a tank top and underwear — Ashely in the same. It was all you had. All your clothes were soiled with dirt, and grime, and blood.

Thinking of nothing in particular, you laid there, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. The walls creaked every once in a while, odd drafts filtered in from cracks in the ceiling or from the window. It was too quiet. And it stayed that way for a long while.

“Everything okay with Ashley?” Leon asked, his voice quiet, as not to wake the subject of conversation.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled back, turning your head. He, too, was on his back. Both of you too afraid to face each other in bed, seeming too personal. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” His response was quiet, a little too nonchalant, as if he’d forced it to be casual. “It was awkward earlier.”

“Earlier?” You decided to play dumb, despite knowing that Leon wouldn’t believe it. He was well aware you knew what he was talking about. The touch. How Ashley had frozen when you’d touched her leg.

“Whatever, play stupid.” He scoffed with a half smile — a knowing smile. The bastard. “Just saying, she seems attached to you.”

“Oh, and she’s not with you, her hero?” You bit back with a hint of humor. Your voices were still low, hoping Ashely was asleep — or she couldn’t hear you if she wasn’t.

Leon laughed quietly, a rough scoff sound that echoed in your ears. You smiled at little at that sound. “Whatever you say,”

You frowned, gaining the confidence to shuffle onto your side, facing him as you contemplated what that simple, yet heavy ‘whatever’ meant. “What do you mean, whatever?”

Leon sighed, rolling onto his side to face you too. His eyes, still so blue even in the darkness of the motel room, bore into yours. It seemed he didn’t carry the same awkward feeling about this topic as you did. Or, maybe he did and he just hid it exceptionally well. But knowing him, that didn’t seem right.

“She’s just attached to you. Always at your side, or chatting your ear off. And what the hell was with that earlier?” He continued, brows furrowed in their eternal frown.

“I was patching her up. Making sure none of her cuts were infected.” You half shrugged, trying to play it off as something simple, even though it was so complex.

“She looked like she wanted to kiss you or something.”

“Oh, my God,” you rolled your eyes, trying to push away the way your chest tightened at the though. “You’re so fucking dramatic. She wasn’t gonna kiss me.”

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, his tone final and casually dismissive. Like he was finished talking about it. Like he didn’t believe you but didn’t want to say so.

“She was not going to kiss me.” You pushed, voice quiet yet firm. Your own brows were pulled into a frown, like what he’d said was offensive.

But it wasn’t. Kissing Ashley wasn’t a bad thought. It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed another girl before. The first time you had was in the training program for USSTRATCOM, your training partner who made you realize that all girls don’t look at other girls that way. She was the first, others followed.

Ashley was pretty, very pretty. Tall, pretty lips, and the blonde hair, blue eye thing, of course. Kissing her wouldn’t be so bad, really. It would probably be very nice. But nothing like kissing Leon, though.

“Okay.” Leon said again, shifting to lay on his back again, letting his eyes close. The finality of it all aggravated you. So, you asked him a question maybe you shouldn’t have.

“What if she did?” You asked, eyes narrowed and trained on him. A smile bloomed on your face at the way his eyes opened, his brows furrowing deeper at your question.

“What about it? It’s not my business.” Leon grumbled. But the tone he used made it wound like it was very much his business.

“M’kay.” You nodded, quietly celebrating to the way you’d seemed to have stumped him, surprised him.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He stared at the ceiling, and you stared at him. It was deadly quiet, the rhythmic sound of Ashley’s breathing the sole sound in the room.

“Did you want her to?” Leon asked, mumbling quietly. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, as if he were afraid to look you in the eye when you answered. Afraid you had an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I dunno.” You admitted, honestly. You didn’t know, truly you didn’t. Kissing Ashely wouldn’t be so bad, but you hardly knew the girl. Not to mention her heavy attachment to you. It could get worse if she kissed you.

Leon nodded, not sure of how to answer your admission. He laid there, your eyes on him as you laid on your side. You wished so desperately for him to kiss you, or hold you, or do something. It was painful, the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

“Would that bother you?” You dared to ask, voice so low it was almost inaudible as you spoke.

Leon was still quiet for a long moment, maybe considering whether to answer seriously or with his usual dry humor. The latter won. “Not something I’d wanna walk in on.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because we’re girls?”

“Because she’d be kissing you.” He responding, saying it lightly, like the meaning of that simple sentence wasn’t the heaviest thing you’d ever heard.

Your mind did circles, your heart raced. Did he mean that because you were his partner? Or did he mean it out of jealousy. God, you hoped it was jealousy.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned, voice apprehensive and unsure.

Leon shrugged, a soft, unintelligible grunt falling from his lips. He didn’t look over at you, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. The nagging feeling that was ever present in your chest worsened. The silence was deafening, painful. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’d just be weird. It’s Ashely, it’d be weird.” He mumbled, like even he didn’t believe his own answer.

Leon’s words befuddled you, made you frown in contemplation. “Because it’s Ashley? What you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Ashley. It’d be weird.” He repeated, not clarifying at all. This annoyed you.

Eyes narrowed, lips in a line, you scoffed. “Thanks for the explanation.”

“Anytime,” Leon clipped back playfully. But you were in no playful mood.

You huffed, Leon picking up on your attitude as you sat up in bed. “Seriously, what’d you mean by that?”

Leon let out a scoff of his own, rolling his eyes as he looked over at you. “I mean it’s just a weird thought. You and Ashley. We, we just met her, okay?”

“Oh,” you nodded, wishing you hadn’t jumped to your own conclusions internally. You’d thought he meant it was weird because she wasn’t him. Or maybe that he wanted to kiss you. Not such a simple and obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting out a small sigh to stifle a yawn. “Look, can we get some sleep now? Kinda have a long trip home tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You mumbled, lying back down on your back, eyes on the cracked ceiling once again.

It was quiet again, the discomfort of silence present once more as Ashley slept in the bed next to yours, and Leon tired to sleep beside you. Your mind buzzed with a thousand variations of the same question: why did Leon actually care so damn much?

“Go to sleep. You think too loud.” Leon grumbled, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you.

“At least some of us think,” you quipped quietly, earning a scoff of a laugh from him before he went silent for the final time that night.

Of course Leon woke up at dawn. The asscrack of fucking dawn. And it wasn’t like he was quiet either. Shuffling of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom, the sink creaking on. You tried so hard to stay asleep, but your stupid internal alarm clock was ringing too. Oh to be in D.C. where it was still dark.

“C’mon, get up. We need to get moving.” Leon said, his voice somewhat gentle as he rested a hand on your shoulder once he’d emerged from the bathroom, fully changed.

“I’m up. You’re loud.” You mumbled, voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered under his breath. “Even Ashely’s up.”

“Good for her,” you nestled deeper into the pillow, hearing a second set of footsteps head toward the bathroom. Less than five short seconds later, Leon yanked the covers from your body, sending a muffled yelp from your lips.

“Up, we need to move.” Leon said again, giving your leg a small shake as you grumbled on about a lack of sleep. His gentleness was gone now, replaced by urgency.

Technically, you were still on ‘enemy grounds’. You weren’t safe until you were back on U.S. soil, and even then there carried a risk with Ashley in tow.

So, with more sour encouragement from Leon, you got up and changed into your now dry clothes. Once Ashely used up her turn in the bathroom, you took yours. And not long after, the three of you were heading back toward the lobby of the shabby motel.

You managed to convince Leon to stick around for an extra thirty minutes for a shitty cooked breakfast in the sad excuse for a dining room where the motel offered complimentary breakfast.

Once full of frozen scrambled eggs, stale toast, and really bad coffee, the three of you were on the move once more. It was tricky, getting home like this. Hunnigan had promised that of you made it to a certain location a few miles north of the motel, there would be a chopper waiting to pick you up. Hunnigan hadn’t failed you yet, so you didn’t doubt her.

“How much further?” Ashley asked, her brows creased, forehead already glistening with sweat as the three of you walked through the winding streets of a small village as you had been for the past few hours.

“Not too much. Tired?” You asked, slowing your steps to walk alongside the girl.

She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Sympathy panged in your chest — Ashley wasn’t built for this like you and Leon were. The two of you had trained for exhausting situations such as these, she had not. You frowned.

“Need some water?” You asked gently, holding out a canteen from your belt. Ashley nodded vigorously, taking the canteen and drinking deeply.

You motioned to Leon to stop for a moment, he frowned, but did nonetheless. You stood with Ashley as she drank, taking a break before going back to drinking the water.

“Thanks,” she smiled, handing the canteen back to you — now half empty. “Sorry, I drank a lot.”

“That’s okay. Can’t have you passing out on us now, can we?” You smiled, taking a sip yourself before latching it back on your belt.

Leon, noticing that Ashely was finished with her break, began walking again. You and Ashely followed, keeping a small bit of distance between you and Leon.

“Hey, I um, I overheard you and Leon talking last night. Not everything, but some of it.” Ashley confessed, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Oh, that so? What’d you hear exactly?” You asked casually, worry springing in your chest.

“Just, I’m sorry because I know you guys have a like, groove or whatever. And I mess it up and I make it weird.”

You frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Then it hit you — she didn’t hear about the kissing discussion, just the last bit about her being new to the trio.

“Oh, Ashely. You don’t make anything weird. Leon and I… we weren’t talking about you making things weird.” You promised, lips curved downward as you and Ashley walked behind Leon.

“Then why’d Leon say that?” Ashely asked, the insecurity obvious in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure whether or not to say it to her face. That he’d thought you two were going to kiss. After a moment of consideration — and seeing Ashely’s sad, curious eyes — you decided to just say it. Consequences be damned.

“Because he thought you were going to try to kiss me. When he came out of the bathroom last night.” You explained gently, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. When it kind of was.

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her brows creased, lips turned downward. She swallowed, looking back at you from where she’d been staring at her feet. “And he meant it’d be weird if I did kiss you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he meant. Not because we’re girls,” you were quick to interject your previous statement. “But because it’s just… that you and I don’t really know each other that well.”

Ashley nodded, walking beside you as you followed Leon along the uneven stone paths. Every once in a while, he’d glance backward to make sure you weren’t lingering behind or somehow gotten lost.

“Okay,” one simple word carried such finality. It shook you — Ashley was uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. I just wanted to be honest.” You tried to explain gently but firmly. You didn’t want her to think you were strange.

“You didn’t make me feel weird.” Ashely shook her head, eyes squinting in the mid-afternoon sun as she looked over at you.

You smiled a little, relieved you hadn’t put her off or made her uncomfortable. That really was the last thing you wanted. “Good,”

The three of you continued to walk along, and a little further up, you demanded a break. Leon huffed, claiming you didn’t have time for a break. But the sun was warm and you were quickly running out of water.

So, you stopped for a quick fifteen minutes before setting off again. Leon was walking much quicker than before — dead set on getting to the extraction point before sundown. Which was very much possible as you were a mere four miles away.

There was a chopper waiting, just as Hunnigan had promised. God, you’d mentally decided to name your first born after her, so thankful to finally leave Spain and sit your ass down.

You sat beside Leon in the back compartment of the chopper, all three of you sporting massive headsets to protect your ears. You chatted away with the pilot — a friend of Hunnigan’s named Danny who was funny, and reminded you of the late Mike who died in pursuit of getting you and Leon out of trouble in the village.

With the promise of a good meal and actual hot showers, Danny flew the three of you home. You were busy looking outside the chopper when Leon nudged your knee with his, earning a slightly venomous glare from you before he pointed to Ashley. Who was dead asleep across from you.

The ride back to D.C. was long, around six hours. Most of which were spent talking with Danny or falling asleep, slumped against Leon’s shoulder. Around twenty minutes before you were set to land — you and Leon had been previously discussing what you were doing first, eating, sleeping, or showering — you shook Ashley awake.

The poor thing was groggy and half asleep as you all filed off the chopper and bid goodbye to Danny — whom you’d made a promise to meet up with and have drinks in honor of Mike at his favorite bar he’d mentioned before he tragically died.

A government issued SUV waited for you, instructing the three of you to pile into the back so you could be taken straight to the President, then to testing. Which you put up a damn good fight. Who the fuck cared about testing? You were hungry and tired and dehydrated as hell. Leon shut you up quick though, despite not being happy about the arrangement himself.

Unfortunately, the car ride was around a half an hour. The driver — not as intimidating had he’d first appeared — flicked between radio stations ntil he landed on one he knew was Ahsley’s favorite. (Apparently he’d been the one to drive Ashely to college, so he knew what music she liked).

Much to Ashely’s dismay and deathly embarrassment, the fucking Backstreet Boys were playing. The driver turned it up, also having the knowledge that this particular track was one of Ashley’s favorites.

Unfortunately, you knew the lyrics too. You mumbled along with them, Leon biting back a smile at how ridiculous his own field partner could be.

“You like the Backstreet Boys?” Ashely asked, her cheeks a bit warm as you bopped your head to the beat and hummed along.

“Nah, but don’t be embarrassed.” You shook your head, smiling at the girl who was sitting between you and Leon.

“Music is music, blondie.” Leon agreed, nodding his head with your positive attitude. He looked back over Ashely’s head at you, trying hard not to smile at your antics. God, you could be so stupidly immature sometimes.

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled, slinking down further in her seat as the driver made the final turn and parked the SUV.

Leon exited first, then Ashley, and you to follow up the rear. You and Leon were armed, still charged with protecting Ashely, no matter the fact that you were indeed on U.S. soil again, and at the White House. The President didn’t greet you outside to your surprise, but you were ushered immediately to his office.

There he was reunited with his daughter, the emotional moment making you have to quietly clear your throat because it even choked you up to see Ashley so happy to see her father again.

You and Leon were thanked profusely, promised your compensation and the highest of honors and awards. To which you didn’t really want (except the money, fuck, you wanted the money), but you knew better than to even try to deny.

With that, you and Leon were quickly dismissed, told you were being led to government testing to be sure you really were clear of the parasites. You gave Ashley a quick goodbye smile and hug, Leon giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her to behave herself.

She looked so unsure, so strange standing in the Oval Office, clothes grimy and blood stained, hair mussed as she watched you and Leon being escorted from the room.

The First Daughter felt a strange sort of emptiness in her chest then, watching you leave. Her brows furrowed as her father spoke incessantly to her about how worried he’d been and how much he missed her. You were agents, assigned to bring her home and leave. No more, no less. So why was she so devastated to see you go?

Of course, you felt a little sad to leave the girl behind. Despite spending only around forty-eight hours with Ashley, you found yourself realizing you’d miss her. Her smile and her comments and her laugh. The way she always asked if you were alright when you should have been doing so to her. How she tried her hardest to defend you and Leon, despite her chronic helplessness.

These things were not spoken to Leon though as you two walked out of the White House together, followed by guards back to the SUV you’d arrived in. But, even though you didn’t say it, you knew Leon felt it too. Somehow, in forty-eight short hours, Ashley had left a mark on you. The both of you. And you missed her already.

“Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, you and Leon almost simultaneously looking over your shoulder to see Ashley running out of the White House after you. She was panting, trying to catch up.

She ran to Leon first, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking the agent by such surprise it made him stumble backwards a bit. Leon wasn’t much of a hugger, you knew this personally. But, despite the action being hesitant and awkward, he hugged her back.

After a few moments — which you knew in your bones were long for Leon — he gave her a quick pat on the back. Ashely took the motion in stride and unlinked herself, smiling at him.

Then, she turned to you. Of course, you expected a hug as well, and you got one. She wrapped her arms around your neck too, you wrapped your arms around her middle, hugging her back with no hesitation. But what you hadn’t expected, was for her to lean back and press a kiss to your lips.

You paused, frozen, eyes wide as Ashley kissed you. What the fuck? She wasn’t a bad kisser, actually. You felt a little bad, not kissing her back as Ashley pulled away, letting go of you and taking a step back. You sort of wished you had kissed her back. But, as the girl stood there, she held no contempt for the fact that you hadn’t. She knew she’d taken you by complete surprise.

“Thank you, both of you. I know I already said it, but thank you for saving my life. It, it means a lot.” Ashely said, her lips — which had been as soft as you thought they were — curved in a sweet smile. Baby blue eyes darted between you and Leon.

Leon who was as shocked as you that Ashley had kissed you with such little hesitation. He was still recovering as well.

Ashely said no more, just offering one last wide smile before turning around and walking away. Her guard — which had followed her outside, running behind her — escorted her. She didn’t even look back, didn’t get a second look at the still shocked look on your face.

“Holy fuck,” you said finally, looking away from Ashley’s retreating figure to look at Leon. He was shocked as well, brows raised as he blinked for a moment.

“Yep, that was weird.” Leon mumbled, nodding as if in affirmation. He said no more, turning around and walking to the SUV, leaving you in momentary silence.

You blinked yourself back to the present, realizing Leon’s comment. You frowned, turning and quickly walking to the SUV as well. “So I didn’t just have a dehydration induced hallucination? She actually kissed me?”

“She actually kissed you,” Leon nodded as he buckled in the SUV, you climbing in and sitting beside him. The car started and rolled out of the parking lot.

“Oh my God.” You said, brows raised, shaking your head. You were unsure of what else there really was to say. You were at a total loss for words.

“Fucking weird.” Leon shook his head, whispering again.

This caused you to look over at him, brows raised. “Why? Because we’re girls?” You brought up your challenge from the previous night, knowing full well you’d get the same damn response.

“No, because it's you.”

You frowned deeper, lips downturned. Oh, you liked a good fucking challenge. “You think I’m like, un-kissable, or something, Kennedy?”

Leon rolled his eyes, exhaustion obviously catching up to him. He looked tired — physically and mentally. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“See, that’s not an explanation. Just like it wasn’t last night.” You chided, eyes narrowed.

“Christ,” Leon mumbled under his breath as shook his head, clearly regretting ever speaking in the last five minutes. “It’s just weird to see my partner being kissed like that.”

You took this as your chance, a grin forming on your lips. “By another girl? Or just in general?”

“General.” Leon responded, obviously not caring of how bored it sounded.

“Jealous or something?” You challenged further, lips pulled in a shit-eating grin.

Oh you’d gotten him there. You could tell by the way Leon’s shoulders tensed and his too casual expression that he was, indeed, sickeningly jealous. An idea — stupid, one that may ruin your dynamic — popped into your head.

You turned your body to face Leon in the backseat, grinning as he frowned at your sudden closeness. With no hesitation or moment for him to react, you leaned forward and kissed him. Square on the mouth. It must be a thing for blondes to have really soft lips.

Leon didn’t say a word, didn’t pull back, didn’t move. He just let you kiss him. Which was strange in and of itself. You placed a hand on his cheek, him a hand on the back of your neck. Eureka, he’d wanted to kiss you all along. Fuck yes, that’s all you could think.

Leon was a decent kisser too, a really good kisser actually. You scooched a little closer, allowing him to hold you by the back of your neck, your body relaxed against his as if it were natural to do so.

Was this what Ashely was feeling when she’d kissed you? Absolute elation and joy? You didn’t let yourself wonder too much, getting swept up in the fact that you were kissing Leon. His hand was gentle yet firm on the back of your neck, your hand on his cheek drifting down to rest against his chest. This moment, God you wished it could last forever.

Which unfortunately, it didn’t. You heard someone clear their throat, the driver looking at you through the rear view mirror. You pulled back, cheeks a little warm. You must look like some sort of girl. Someone who got around maybe. First the First Daughter had kissed you, now you were verging on making out with your field partner in the backseat of a government vehicle.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling away from Leon and sitting back on the seat.

Leon scoffed to himself, letting his hand fall from where it’d been resting on the back of your neck. “You’re stupid,”

“Excuse me?” You let out a small laugh. You’d kissed him and he was calling you stupid? What the hell?

“I can’t believe it took you that long to realize.” Leon shook his head, making you roll your eyes. He’d been jealous the whole time. So the comment of how weird it’d been that Ashley would kiss you — and actually had — was exactly what you thought. Huh, you were some amateur detective.

“Shut up,” you smiled, mumbling as you crossed your arms over your chest, sinking into the seat.

“Nope.” Leon shook his head, making you smile wider.

Maybe these tests wouldn’t be so bad, now that you had two kisses to think on. One you could only ever remember, and one you could receive a million more of once all this was over.

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