#every moment with him on screen was HORRIFYING

[madwickedawesome]

tom and greg talking to lukas was fucking EXCRUCIATING good god

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[bluelockmaniac]

calling your friend a pet name in front of your boyfriend ITOSHI RIN

cw: jealous & clingy rin, fem!reader wc: 642 reo's version

you and rin were lost in your own world, cuddling on the couch, completely ignoring the gore film that played on the television screen. you sat comfortably on his lap, arms around his shoulders as he held your waist gently and smothered you with tender kisses, his lips pressing against every feature of your face. despite the horrifying soundtracks, blood curdling screams, and the desperate pleas of characters standing on death’s door, the two of you still paid them no mind, the gruesome sounds fading into the background as you focused on rin’s kisses. how romantic.

in that moment, a knock on the door of your apartment catches your attention, breaking what was about to be a makeout session, “oh, that must be…” your words trail off. rin reluctantly lets go of your waist, sinking back onto the couch with an exasperated sigh as he watches you head towards the front door.

“were you expecting someone?” he asks. the interruption irritated him considering the amount of effort he put to push aside his arrogance and finally approach you with the intent of kissing you until you couldn’t breathe.

you open the door, and your friend wastes no time, pressing a bag of your favourite sweets into your chest, pulling you into a tight hug, “babeee! thanks for lending me the textbook!” she chirps happily, “the teacher woulda given me an earful,” she pouts, planting a friendly kiss on your cheek.

you quickly reciprocate her hug, “aww, sweetheart, you really got these for me?” you laugh, placing your textbook and the candy bag on the foyer table, “you’re making me blush,” you add jokingly with a wink.

your boyfriend’s face contorted into one of confusion, his eyes narrowing as his fingers clenched the couch at his sides. he quickly moved towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to his side with a frown.

“oh, rinnie, this is f/n, she’s one of my closest fr—” you try to speak, only to get cut off by rin, who was glaring daggers at the source of his frustration, the girl near the front door (and the bag of sweets).

“why is she so clingy?” despite his hardest efforts to appear unaffected by the affectionate pet names—and the kiss on your cheek— his voice betrayed his underlying jealousy and bitterness, “and ‘sweetheart’? seriously?”

you blink in both astonishment and shock, taken aback by rin’s uncharacteristic behaviour. this was a first. was he actually jealous? “rin, are you pouting?”

“hmph,” he glances away, “obviously not.”

“woahhh!! Is the itoshi rin jeal—” your friend was cut off mid-sentence by rin’s glare, warning her not to push her luck because his patience was wearing thin.

“ooh, w-well, i’m gonna leave now, haha– bye babe!”

you laugh, “sorry for his behaviour, swee— i mean, f/n,” you thank her for the gift and close the door behind her.

rin rolls his eyes, and then, without warning, he lifts you into his arms and carries you to your shared bedroom, “r-rin?” you softly gasp as you squirm against his chest.

“hm, you’re going to have to make it up to me,” he mumbles, gently laying you down on the bed as he snuggles closer to you. wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you so your back is pressed against his chest while his lips trail soft kisses along your neck, “alright?” he asks, though it’s evident he has no intention of stopping regardless of your response.

you relax your body as you allow him to decorate your neck with small hickies, “i’ve never seen you jealous before,” you smile teasingly, “funny how you called her clingy. who’s the clingy one now?”

he rolls his eyes, giving your waist a gentle squeeze as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his cheeks slightly pink,

“shut up.”

-

comments appreciated!!

if you're interested in a royal/fantasy au story; wizard ness x princess y/n (no kaiser), click here!

[wannabelife]

seventeen's reaction of you calling them 'baby boy' for the first time

warnings: stablish relationship, suggestive, mention of explicit content, use of 'mommy'

------------- minors do not interact ------------ ✂️

seungcheol was surprised when he heard it. he was complaining about something that happened at work, a big pout on his lips as he keeps talking, and you just couldn't help it "such a baby boy" you joked, laughing. "what did you call me right now?" he asked, his brows shuting as you giggle "you heard it right, baby boy" you shoot back.

jeonghan got so cocky when he heard it for the first time. you, on the other hand, just said it mindlessly "understood, baby boy". "say that again" he said, smiling at you, making you looked confused back at him "what? baby boy?" you asked, his face changing as he was playing a devilish grin at you "should i call you mommy, then?"

joshua wasn't expecting it at all. he was waiting for you at the car, suddenly the windows rolled and he called you "we gonna get late, love! hurry up!" he said. you ran around the house, shoes getting in on the way "im coming, baby boy" you said back, locking the door and getting on passenger seat. he looked at you, almost horrified "don't ever say that again" as you laugh.

jun got flustered, all giggly, and ears red. you got yourself home at the view of your lover layed on the sofa, eyes glued on the tv screen, fully concentrated at the cartoon. "hello, baby boy" you great with a smile. he jumped on his spot, realizing it was you, his face brightening up in shyness "oh! hi"

hoshi couldn't stop bickering with you. he was the very definition of brat, a playful smile on his lips every time he got a reaction of you. "stop! are you a baby boy or something?" you shoot annoyed. "a what? try calling me that on bed next time" he replied it right away, your mouth opening in surprised at his dirty words "soonyoung!"

wonwoo had been hours staring at the computer screen, you approaching, purposely covering half of the screen "what are you doing?" you asked as he tried to peek behind you "how many hours more?" you sulked and he looked at your face with doe eyes "dont say it like that" he replied. "what can i do? i have an addicted baby boy at home, i guess" you said and his cheeks turned red as he got up to hug you tightly.

woozi was on the studio when he received your call. "hey, what are you doing? im passing by, do you wanna grab lunch?" you asked on the other side as he replied "sure, i meet you in 5" "'kay! see ya, baby boy" woozi knew he couldn't hide his expression, a rush of heat coming up his face as he was glad it was through the phone and you wouldn't see him like this, he was weak.

dokyeom saw everything but this coming when he met you in a tiny short that did a poor job at covering his thighs. you came closer checking him out "you look good" it was the first thing you said, seeing his bright smile making its appearance on his face "hello to you too" he replied. "what do you think we stay at home today, baby boy?" you hugged him, letting it out as he got shy without leaving his smile that makes you weak to him and so is he to you.

mingyu always knew you found it funny that people looked at him as some scary big man, and he is what he is. it wasn't a surprise when your friends met him for the first time, saying he was different than they expected. when the subject changed, you came closer to his ear, whispering "could die to let them know what a good baby boy you are to me" he grinned, scratching his nose attempt to hide it from everyone else.

minghao was caught in the heat of the moment when your innocent kisses suddenly got into messy ones. "baby..." you briefly unattached your lips, your hot breath fanning his lips "would you have me, baby boy?" you whispered. his grip tightening on your waist, pulling you to him as he whispered back "get on my lap, baby girl"

seungkwan was clingy. he needed you to keep patting him as he rested on your shoulders; every time you stopped, he grabbed your wrist again "why!!?" he pouted looking up at you. "oh my gosh! alright, baby boy, lay here" you said, patting the cushion on your lap. "please, keep calling me that" he said smiling, letting a peck to your lips.

vernon and you were playing a phone game as a duo, the laughs and excitement filling the room every match. you shouted for his help on the game, him coming to save you as he started to defend you from the bad ones "yes!! yes!! grab him!! catch him, baby boy!!" you cheered him on. his movements haulting, almost dying on the game too as he gets too flustered and light headed with the nickname but decided to just let it go.

dino was quietly resting on your arms while you talked to your friend on the phone. the gossiping ended up on the boyfriends subject, her getting surprised that dino was the youngest of his friend group "uhum, he's the baby boy" you said it and he suddenly shifted on your embrace, mouthing "baby boy?" to you as you smiled and nodded. his expression in a mist of endearment and embarrassment as he just accepted it.

[mischievousmoony]

I'd love to request Poly!Marauders watching something like Tangled with their girl on a night in. Since Remus(I think) is the only one familiar with muggle movies the others would be fascinated I'm sure! Please and thank you! <3

ahh i love this request! tangled is my favorite disney princess movie!! here's a little blurb for u i hope you like it <3

𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍

⟢ poly!marauders x reader ⟢ warnings/tags: tangled spoilers i suppose

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s very fitting, the way you’re tangled on the bed with your three boyfriends as you watch a movie by the same name. 

You’re nestled in the middle with James, his arms securely around your waist as you snuggle into his chest. Behind you, Remus wraps his arm over your shoulders, his hand tenderly resting on the nape of James' neck. And behind James, Sirius cozies up, spooning him and sweetly kissing Remus’ hand from time to time. All of your legs are intertwined in a way that if a single one of you tried to move, all of you would have to readjust. It’s delightful. 

Remus has seen this movie before, so while the three of you stare at the television in awe, he mostly watches your reactions. He’s loving the way your eyes light up, the sound of James’ giddy laughter, and the way Sirius nods along to every song. 

He watches fondly when a gasp rips from James’ mouth as Rapunzel’s hair is cut. And a chuckle rumbles in his throat a few seconds later when Sirius cheers for Gothel’s demise. 

When tears well up in your eyes as it seems Flynn Rider may succumb to his injury, Remus places a comforting hand on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into your skin with the pad of his thumb. 

You protest against the scene, horrified as Flynn exhales for possibly the last time, “You said this movie was for children, Rem!”

“Shh sh,” he pats your thigh, “watch.”

You pout as you turn back to the screen. It’s only moments later when you intake a sharp breath as relief floods in when yellow tendrils of magic heal the wound. James rocks you gently back in forth happily, silently celebrating the outcome. 

When the movie concludes, you can’t help but squeal in delight. Remus gives your leg a little squeeze. 

“Like it?” He asks all of you. 

“Yeah, it was cute,” James says, acting all nonchalant like the reunion between Rapunzel and her parents didn’t make him tear up. 

“It was lovely!” You say, your voice conveying pure glee, “It’s so funny the lengths muggles will go to bring a little magic into their world. They really drew that whole thing?” 

“Eh- sort of,” Remus responds, “They animated it.” 

At the tilt of your head and the furrow of his boyfriends’ brows, Remus realizes his mistake, “Not animate like Animato. They basically draw it and use technology to give everything movement and life.” 

You huff, “You’re losing me. Muggles are so confusing with their technology.” 

“You certainly like having it around,” James points out, tilting his head up at the television— a muggle product— that’s mounted on the wall across from the bed. 

“I think it’s cool—” Sirius says, his tone distantly fascinated. A smirk plays at his lip, adding to his effort to appear aloof, though everyone knows Sirius has had a bit of a passion for muggle innovation since he discovered record players, “—everything they’ve figured out with a bit of electricity.”

“You’re right, as confusing as it is, it’s quite amazing,” you agree before tilting your head back until you could see Remus behind you. “That was a good movie, Rem.”

“What’d you like most about it?” He asks fondly. His thumb is still rubbing circles into your skin. 

“It was just so…” you ponder over how it made you feel for a moment, “…so magical! It makes me feel ordinary. I wish I could go there and watch the lanterns myself.” 

“Well, you would make a cute princess,” James flirts.

Your face lights up in response, a gasp on your lips indicating the birth of an idea. You sit yourself up swiftly in excitement, your boyfriends’ hands lingering on you, moving with you as you do. 

“I should be Rapunzel for Halloween this year!” You exclaim enthusiastically. 

James shoots up with you in an instant, calling out, “I get to be Flynn Rider!” 

“Oi! No way. If anyone’s Flynn it should be me,” Sirius protests, “Why don’t you and Remus be those red haired blokes or something, you two being the giants you are!” 

Remus and James truly were much taller than Sirius. Even more so you. 

“You want us to dress as brothers for Halloween?” Remus asks incredulously, judgement written across his features. 

Sirius cringes, “Er- okay, maybe not them.”

“I have a far better idea,” James says, “Seeing as I already called dibs on Flynn and I’m obviously the perfect fit with my rugged good looks and charm, why don’t you and Rem squeeze into one of those two person horse costumes as Maximilian or whatever. You can be the arse, Sirius! How fitting!” 

Sirius smacks James on the arm, “First of all, his name is Maximus. Second of all, no way, you dolt!”

As Sirius and James continue to bicker, you twist around to face Remus. 

“Wanna be my prince for Halloween, Remmy?” you ask in a low voice so that your other boyfriends won’t hear. 

“What about those two,” Remus nods at your arguing boyfriends, an amused look in his eye, “James has a point, he’s basically Flynn Rider already.” 

“Mmm, maybe so,” you sink down into the bed again, snuggling into Remus’ arms, James’ having slid away from your waist to fight more animatedly with Sirius. “But you’d be the perfect Eugene.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[dearest-nell]

reality.

s. harrington x reader, 3.2k

summary: steve has fallen in love with his best friend without even realising, and now there's nothing left for him to do but continue to fall. friends to lovers, steve is pathetically in love, gender neutral!reader, mentions of drinking.

a/n: literally can't think about anything else but this little romantic idiot loverman, so here we are. unproofread, sorry!

Steve was not sure when it was that this all became real to him. Time seemed to blur together in flashes of colour and memory. There were so many days with you, so many moments that had changed his life or altered his very being. How many moments could he name that might have been the one to shift delicate sands between you? Your friendship spanned years – wonderful years filled with the warmth of summer sun soaking into your skin on the beach of Lovers Lake, sweaters shared so often between the both of you that even the woollen fabric could not decide who it smelled most like. 

He remembered movie nights in the dimness of Hawkins theatre, half empty rows of midnight screenings where your horrified cries over every slasher could be muffled by his shoulder, his arm around your waist, tucking you safely away from every fright around. You were the only person who slept in his bed just to talk, to stay up all night whispering dreams and hopes and secrets. You were full of his secrets, after all, sworn to protect and sworn to keep. He wanted to keep you more than anything else in the world. 

Steve couldn’t pinpoint the moment his deep, unwavering affection for you had become something new, something so tenderly romantic that even he himself had been shocked by. He had been in love before, sure, but not like this. Steve Harrington had never considered himself capable of loving another person quite so much. It was greedy, and selfish, and selfless, and all consuming, and so peacefully quiet that he was sure nothing else might ever settle him quite so nicely. 

The attraction had always been there, after all. You were ethereal, otherworldly, angelic in a way that Steve was sure no one had ever been before. It didn’t matter what anyone else had said, you were the most beautiful creature to ever grace his life. Even as friends, he knew it. He’d watched you swim in the chlorine mess of his pool clad in nothing but your underwear, leaving Steve swallowing thickly around the unshiftable lump in his throat that seemed to appear just for you. He’d run his hands across your sides in the deep blue of the night, memorising the curve of your hip with trembling hands that ached to hold you tighter. He’d been lost in your eyes so often that sometimes the colour of them was printed on the inside of his eyelids, haunting his dreams with visions of your smile - your hand in his. 

He couldn’t name the moment it changed, but he could name the moment he knew. It was an ordinary night by anyone's standards; the kids, now graduating, had rented a VHS of some film he likely should  have known the name of. He thought the actors had looked familiar, maybe recognised the hit song on the soundtrack, but the rest seemed a blur to him. He’d been half exhausted from a day at work as it was, and you had promised to take him home early if his social battery began to dwindle. It was incentive enough for him to try, though about 35 minutes into the film, Steve had felt that wave of exhaustion slip over him. He wanted his own bed, wanted the silence and dark of his shitty apartment to swallow him whole. He’d moved to whisper to you, hand squeezing your knee beside him only to discover your quiet, even breaths as his only response. Your head rested so fittingly on his shoulder, one curve perfectly slotted into the other, a soft place for you to land. It wasn’t often that you fell asleep during movies, but Steve knew you were just as exhausted as he was from an even longer work week. 

Steve did not look back towards the dingy, yellow hazed television screen even once after he’d spotted you. He was fixated on the gentle peace that had settled across your features, brow line soft, unmarred by worries of the day. He wondered what you were dreaming about, what thoughts and wishes filled your imaginings tonight, and whether he would get to hear about them once you’d woken. It was one thought that had shaken him, though. One that made him stop to think, that lost him to his surroundings entirely, consumed by questions. 

Are you dreaming about me, too? 

The overwhelming sense of hope was what had alarmed him, hope that perhaps you wanted him, wanted him with you even in your dreams – wanted him just as badly as he seemed to want you. How had he not noticed before? How had he not understood that every moment without you just felt like another moment spent trying to get back to you. 

Oh god, it was love. There was nothing else to call it. It was love of a friend and so much more. It was love of a person that Steve hoped never to face life again without. It was a desperation to keep you close that left a tightness in his chest, unmoving and unshakable. There was restraint enough in him that kept him from waking you just to pull you tighter, suddenly so aware of this need that had shadowed so closely at his heels all this time. 

He stayed the entire film just so you could sleep right there on his shoulder, undisturbed and so entirely loved. 

How he managed to keep it to himself after that was beyond all understanding. Steve didn’t keep secrets, or at least not his own, not from you. How exciting it was to be falling in love like this, and yet all he could think about was how horrific it was that you were none the wiser. Hadn’t you felt it too? That shift between you? It was all he could think about, and it left him twitchy, nervous and bumbling, ungraceful compared to his usual charismatic charm. Though you smiled at him like you always did, watching him as if he were still your most favourite person in all the world, and Steve had never felt more alive. 

It was why here, now, all he could do was watch you. Weeks later, still pining, still so incredibly in love with you, he was helpless but to stand by your side, drink in his hand idly sipped just to give him some kind of distractive reprieve, the taste of whisky heavy on his tongue as you watched the band before you. The lights were luminous, flashes of blue and yellow and white swallowing you in their glow, your body swaying contentedly to the rhythm of music he had half forgotten to listen to. He’d been excited to see this band weeks ago, and now all he could do was stare at you. 

You’d dressed up; hair styled, body wrapped in fabrics that Steve wanted to run his fingers through. There was glitter on your cheeks that glinted in the neon lights, and if Steve had not seen the cheap packaging himself, then he might have considered it the mark of an angel gracing your skin. 

Steve had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. 

How he had gotten away with such blatant staring was a mystery, and he chalked it up to the masses of people pressing in closer and closer together as the night went on. No one was watching him, so no one was watching him watch you. 

As if triggered by some divine intervention, you turned to smile at him, yelling something about how great the band was, the sound muffled by the buzz of electronics and minute long guitar solos. He nodded back dumbly, his own smile a perfect mirror of your own, a free hand running through his now sweat slick locks. 

“So good.” Was all he could yell back, trying to peel his gaze away from your own, his own personal boulder up the hill; an unwinnable battle. 

His staring paid off, at least, when he caught the way the masses seemed to close in around you. Your view was more and more obstructed with every new beat, bodies taller and far less considerate than the two of yours huddling in tighter. He watched as the perception crossed your mind and on pure instinct, Steve was pulling you into him, slotting your body into place right before his own. He was wrapped around you like a protective barrier, arm hooked loosely around your waist, hand gripping possessively at your hip, his drink knocked clean out of his hand as the man by his side threw his arms up to the music. He tried not to glare, not for the loss of his drink, but for the way it so easily could have come tumbling down on you. The drink seemed like the least of your worries though. Steve offered you an apologetic grimace only to be met with another of your smiles, the warmth of your regard smoothing out the roughest edges of his trepidations. 

Your hand slipped into his, eliciting the softest of sighs from Steve to feel your comforting touch, and he felt his body relax as you pulled his other arm snuggly around you too, your entire body now encased in the safety of his hold. Somehow he knew that you had done this for him, that snuggling yourself in deeper like this was to ease his worries, not your own. He was here protecting you, and somehow here you were, still soothing him without so much as a thought. He wished he understood how you knew him so well, how you seemed to know intrinsically what he needed. It felt foolish to hope that maybe it was for the very same reason that he knew you so well. Maybe this is just how friends are. 

This did not feel like friendship, though, not with you pressed so tightly against him, bodies swaying as one to the steady rhythm of the melody around you. Your arms were crossed around yourself, hands gripping onto his forearms as if you could hold him right back. You were holding him, he realised. Holding him as best as you could from the position you were in. You had relaxed entirely into him, head resting back against his shoulder, movements languid and comfortable in his arms, fingers tracing secret scribbles into the goose-prickled flesh of his skin, so reactive to even the smallest of your touches. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, couldn’t decide where to look or what to say or how to breathe, even. Breathe, Steve, breathe. 

“Are you comfy?” You called out, head angling up to catch a glimpse of his expression. Your palm flattened out comfortingly against his arm, and Steve tried not to melt under the tenderness of it. 

He nodded, dipping down to speak a little more closely, using the volume of the room as his excuse to allow his lips so close to the plush curve of your cheek. “‘m comfy. Is this okay?” 

He squeezed his arms around you once, twice, to emphasise his concern. You inched your face higher, views of one another now more clear as the space between you dissipated, your noses bumping clumsily against one another as the crowd continued to shift around you.

“Yeah, thanks.” If he didn’t know you half as well as he did, Steve might have missed the way your eyes seemed to widen at him, mouth parting imperceptibly as if you were about to continue, words dissolving right at the buzzer. 

His brow lifted curiously, nose nudging yours with purpose to ease the words from you. The look you gave in turn was enough to steal the very breath from his lungs, his chest constricting with the nerves that such intensity always seemed to summon in him. You looked pained, somehow, and Steve didn’t miss the way your arms seemed to tighten around his own, leaving his hands to squeeze at your sides reassuringly, one slipping its way to cup at your jaw. The wide of his palm engulfed your cheek, his rough, calloused, fingers stroking soothing circles into the curve of your skin, holding your gaze to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He mouthed, not wishing to raise his voice when you were pressed so closely to him. He was preparing to pull you away at a moment's notice, to flee the crowd and tuck you somewhere safe in some dark corner of the room to catch your breath. He knew something was wrong, could feel the weight of some unspoken thought pressing down on you. He’d steal it if he could, take it on as his own so you could smile again. It had only been a minute and he was already aching to see it once more. 

It all seemed to move in slow motion for him – time slowed to a standstill as the room seemed to fade away. There wasn’t anyone here but you, but him, standing here in this crowded empty space, looking at no one but each other. He watched you tug your lip between your teeth, one moment of contemplation that had him second guessing everything before you moved, lifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach him, his arms tightening again to keep you steady. 

Your eyes flickered, shifting nervously between his eyes and his lips, and Steve felt his own part as the surprise of your boldness hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him and this was your way of showing it. He could see the way you tried to inch closer, watching through hooded eyes as you evaluated his reaction, drifting somewhere between closer and further with every breath. 

No one could blame him for his eagerness, not really. Not when you were looking at him like it would kill you not to kiss him, not when he felt so entirely needed, so entirely worthy of this moment. He brushed his hand at your cheek, nudging forward slowly, his eyes imploring as he watched, waited to know that this was really what you wanted. 

You just smiled up at him, and Steve might have died right there to know that he was the reason why. 

Steve’s focused remained heavily on his movements, head lost somewhere in the necessity that he needed to kiss you right. He felt like his very happiness relied on it – like he would die right here, right now, if you did not know just how much he wanted you. Needed you. 

He moved unhurriedly, lips tracing so softly against your own that he thought he might be dreaming. There was no conceivable way that a person could be so delicate in his hold, so plush and divine and perfect. It was a moment out of time, kissing you like this amongst the ever constricting crowds, the violent noise of a band crescendoing around you all the while. 

And you were kissing him too. 

He could taste it in your touch, the eagerness, the way you tried to reach further, twisting in his arms to fit closer to him. He wished he could swallow his grin, helplessly amused by that gentle desperation in you – how could he not smile over the neediness in your touch? You tried to speed up the kiss, to grip him tighter, one hand curled into the fabric of his shirt, the other tugging him down by his hair. 

His groan was involuntary, and his purchase at your face was all he had to usher you, slow fingers coaxing you back into a relaxed state, pulling himself back to look at you with desperate eyes. 

He had no words, nothing that he could say that could convey the meaning of this moment, nor the depths of his feelings for it. He could see that glaze in your eyes, feel the way you swayed on the tips of your toes as your balance betrayed you. He didn’t mind – it was his excuse to tug you all the closer, setting the pace once more as his lips slotted against your own. 

He felt your sigh rather than heard it, could feel the way your muscles relaxed under the press of his hand at your back. It was a sick sort of pleasure that flooded him, pride taking over to know that he had this effect – this power over you. If only you knew how much more you had over him, how he’d do almost anything you could ask of him just to keep you here. 

A knock from a burly looking man was what it took to break the kiss, and Steve might have been thankful had he not almost dropped the two of you in a brief lapse of balance, his head turning venomously to glare at the man who Steve certainly could not take in a fight. He might really have gotten his ass kicked there and then over his petulance, a child raging over his favourite treat being ripped from his hands. Was it so much for him to want this moment to be perfect? He wanted 5 minutes to enjoy it, to kiss you senseless, to solidify that this would not be the only time  to do so. 

Thank god for you, really, to remind him that he was still in the moment. Your hands at his face tugged him away from his anger, focusing his attention back on you, your own amused smile soothing away that spike of rage that had stolen his attention so briefly. You dipped up, pecking his lips so suddenly that all he could do was stare. He felt like an idiot, and maybe it was because he was one. He was a fool in love, and perhaps now you were starting to see it. 

“Lets go.” You urged, thumbs circling at his cheeks, the adrenaline in his body dissipating into something peaceful at the tenderness of your touch. 

He nodded dumbly, not a moment wasted considering anything else in the room but you. Who could have possibly cared that the show was only half finished, that neither of you had heard your favourite songs yet, that you had been dying to try the specialty cocktail of the night that was plastered across posters behind the bar, when Steve could be the one to take you home? Fuck literally anything else here because your hand was easing its way into his own, and his cheeks were sure to ache at the strain of his smile on his face as he shouldered his way through the crowd, parting bodies to ease the two of you through the masses, and nothing could have been more important to him in that moment, or any other moment to come, than you. 

Forget it all, because Steve was going to kiss you again as soon as the night air broke around the two of you, and by the way you clung so tightly to the back of him, he’d never been so assured that you were just as pleased by the notion as he was. 

Steve could not remember the moment his feelings for you had become real to him, but he’d never forget the moment yours had.

[pikahlua]

Okay, here's my MHA criticism.

Everyone has their own personal hangups about the MHA ending, but mine is not about the ending itself. The epilogue doesn't feel rushed to me--the entire final act does, ever since the PLW ending.

But I can't say that the issue is actually rushed writing. There was a change in the writing, and it came with pros and cons. Ever since this change, a lot of people felt a lack of Izuku's introspection, but I still see his introspection all over the place. It's just not compelling introspection, and it's the natural consequence of this writing change.

The thing that changes is the way Horikoshi depicts character interaction and reflection.

To cap off the story's themes, Horikoshi chooses to focus on select emotional beats involving specific characters as short, finite set pieces. Some of them work great, like Katsuki's apology. But what is lost in this process are the other emotional beats Horikoshi doesn't spend time on, such as Izuku's quick, comical, emotionally dissonant reunion with All Might back at UA after going vigilante. The set pieces Horikoshi chooses to focus on at Tomura's end are two moments, one between All For One and Yoichi, and the other between Izuku and Tomura. But what is lost in this case is the strangely off-screened encounter between Nana's and Tomura's vestiges, and we're just given the fact that Nana preserved Tomura's sense of self as an offhand remark. This is a recurring theme where Horikoshi lands the set pieces he has likely visualized for years but that somehow don't have the same impact as the emotional scenes from earlier in the story. The details that build up to these moments are lacking, and it's because the characters don't interact as they should.

Horikoshi has overall messages he wants to focus on, such as the unity in everyone coming together inspired by Izuku at the end. But he places so much focus on his entire cast of characters at large to achieve this theme that the story becomes unbalanced. We as readers have read about his characters over the years, and we've grown especially attached to some of them. Even if there are minor characters we may enjoy, if Horikoshi is doing his job as a writer, the majority of us should be here for the main characters. If Horikoshi wants to feature every single one of his characters in the final arc, then he has to do so with balance. The main characters should be given more emotional weight than the side characters.

Hanta Sero can have his cool moment no problem, but why does it come so late into Izuku's final battle??? It makes no sense emotionally for it to be there. At this stage in the story, we would expect any other major character to fill this role. Hell, Iida is sitting right there with not much going on for his character this arc.

And the same emotional underwhelm goes for so many other moments. Why is the primary character screaming in agony over Katsuki's death Neito Monoma??? Aizawa is right there, and all we get from him is a horrified face but no reaction otherwise. He fades to the background immediately. Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death is built up so much and yet not nearly enough time or weight is devoted to the actual moment when it happens. Compared to such iconic reactions to death in the shounen genre that came before it such as Goku's super saiyan transformation in response to the death of his best friend Krillin, Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death is utterly forgettable.

The issue is not that Horikoshi gave Sero and Monoma these moments. It's that he either weighted or timed them and many others like them poorly. No one reading MHA wonders what wisdom Sero would have to offer at the end or what sort of reaction Monoma would have to Katsuki's death--or rather, they don't wonder these things more than they wonder about the main characters themselves. Main characters are the characters we're SUPPOSED to care about. If you give Sero and Monoma big moments like what they got, then the main characters have to have even bigger moments following in order to still be impactful. But we don't get that. We get the set pieces, but we don't get any of the logical character interaction and reflection these set pieces beg for. If I have to choose between Izuku's reaction to Katsuki's death and Monoma's, I want Horikoshi to spend all his time and effort on Izuku's every time. It's nice to see how main characters interact with side characters and to hear those side characters' perspectives but NOT at the cost of the main characters interacting and sharing their perspectives. Horikoshi makes too much space for his side characters, and so we lose the detail that could have gone into important moments between the main characters. The overall story remains coherent and complete, but it also leaves something to be desired for the characters themselves. As a result, I find myself both given closure and longing for a more robust, impactful resolution for the main characters.

tl;dr Horikoshi gave too much to his side characters and not enough to his main characters, which particularly affected the interactions between the characters we all care most about

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your dad’s best friend knows you better than you do yourself.

prompts. | Ari Levinson + dad’s best friend + “I dreamt about you last night. Every night.” + Daddy kink, requested by @ameerakane20.

pairing. | dark!dad’s best friend!Ari Levinson x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, smut, age gap, Daddy kink, mentions of non-con somnophilia, mentions of sex dreams, obsession, dry humping/grinding, orgasm (f), dirty talk, delusion, pet names, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

The sound of cicadas fills the air as you make your way downstairs, the door to the backyard open. The screen stays closed, though, to prevent any bugs from coming inside.

You know your father’s best friend is staying the night, but you didn't think he’d still be up. You can hear a football game playing on the television in the living room, and you walk past it in your venture to the kitchen.

A gruff voice calls your name before beckoning you to sit with him. You acquiesce, always intimidated by Ari. He’s quiet when your father is not around, yet always so intense. He practically sucks the all the air out of the room.

“You’re still up, huh?” he questions, even though it really isn’t that late. You’re a big girl. You can handle yourself. “Yeah… Er, where is he?” you ask, obviously alluding to your dad. “Oh, he went to the liquor store to get us a few beers,” Ari explains.

You nod your head. He pats the spot next to him, gesturing you to sit down. You do as he tells you, not wanting to be rude. But you also find your body listens involuntarily, almost as if he has complete control over it.

“You’re so quiet, aren’t ya?” Ari smiles, and you shake your head, also grinning. “It’s cute. I like it,” he says.

A few moments pass while you both watch the game on the TV, and you have a hard time breathing. You can’t deny Ari’s good looks, but being around him makes you so nervous.

As you’re lost in thought while staring at the screen, you feel a large, warm hand rest on your bare thigh. You’re wearing shorts tonight, as per usual, since it’s so hot. 

You turn your head and look at Ari, who’s already watching you with dark eyes. His tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he gazes up and down your body.

“A– Ari?” you ask, nervous and aroused. “It’s Daddy to you, princess,” he roughly tells you, squeezing your thigh. “What?” you scoff as you go to stand up. 

The older man quickly pulls you onto his lap, though, and he holds you down with his immense strength. 

“I dreamt about you last night. Every night,” he whispers, nuzzling your cheek. His beard rubs against your skin, moving down to the crook of your neck. He presses kisses along the trail the entire time. “And I know you do, too, sweetie,” he hums, his hands groping your ass.

How does he know? The question dies on the tip of your tongue when he gives you a few spanks, making you yelp.

“I couldn’t just leave my girl by herself. And you were so wet, too,” Ari continues, his words horrifying yet true. Your dad’s best friend uses his grip to make you grind on his evident bulge, the pleasure nice yet wrong—so very wrong. 

You gasp at the sensation, loving the attention your achy clit is receiving. But you’re conflicted, and you want to do the right thing.

“Ari– Please, we can’t. Let me go—I won’t say a word, I swear,” you pant, his touch becoming addictive. You moan when he lands another smack on your ass, this time a bit harsher. “What did I say? Don’t make Daddy upset, baby.” 

“S- Sorry, D– Daddy. Please, leave me alone,” you beg, sounding a bit whiny as Ari continues to rub your pussy on his hard, clothed dick. “Why should I do that, honey? Hm? I’ve waited way too long to get you alone. I’m not letting you go,” he grunts, cock twitching under his jeans. 

“It’s wrong! You’re my dad’s friend,” you reason, and against your will, you can feel your climax nearing. It’s been so long since you’ve been fucked by a man—a real man. “And now I’m your Daddy. C’mon, it wouldn’t be my first time touching you, and that pussy’s been begging for me to fuck it,” Ari chuckles.

He picks up the pace on your hips, and your moans become louder despite your insistence on stopping. His previous words completely evade you.

“Aw, are you gonna come for Daddy?” he taunts, giving your ass a few light slaps. “Uh-huh,” you mewl, back arching. “Tell Daddy how much you want him, and I’ll let you come,” Ari suddenly demands.

You twist your face in frustration. You want to come so bad, but you don’t want him to keep touching you. Or maybe you do.

“I– I want you so bad, Daddy. I need you so much,” you whine, and Ari curses at your words. Just as perfect as he imagined. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Go ahead, come for Daddy. Make a mess in your panties,” he demands, and you do as he says.

The elastic band within you snaps as you hit your climax, pussy fluttering around nothing as you dampen your panties even more. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good when you listen to Daddy, baby?” he asks, and you can hear the strain in his voice. “Uh-huh,” you helplessly hum, riding out the rest of your orgasm. Ari keeps you going on his clothed dick until you try to push him away.

He pulls you towards his chest and holds you close, mouth next to your ear. “And even if you didn’t, I’d still get what I want. I always do.” 

[poppy-metal]

your porn history post had me thinking about if did accidentally see their porn history. like i can imagine it going two different ways, one for when they were younger and then one for when they were older. when they were younger it's probably something you tease them about. especially art because he has shame while patrick doesn't. you went to google something on patricks phone and it pops up - "porn tennis girl fucked". or you're studying with art and go to pull up something he'd found the night before on his laptop, suddenly met with some site plus "soft feet milk my cock".

patrick would probably make fun of you before you make fun of him. teasing you about your shocked expression and then playfully accusing you of snooping. it takes a good bit for you to be able to make fun of him. long enough for him to shut up and for you to stop wondering if he was possibly thinking of you when he was watching girls get fucked in their tennis uniforms. poor art just wants to die when he looks over to see what you're laughing about. he's hiding his face away into a pillow and his whole body is turning beet red as you poke at him. teasing him about him liking feet stuff and threatening to look at the other searches. you start kicking him at random moments and then going, "whoops, forgot you like that," and it makes his brain stop working every time. 

with older patrick, you could find it anyway. looking up something, going through movies he owns, or he might just show you himself. he spends less time making fun of you and more time figuring out if you're possibly into it too. you'd get a better chance to tease him. ask him what went wrong in his life to make him so perverted. he sees it less like a joke and more like a compliment though. the whole thing probably ends with you watching porn with him, regardless if you're together or not. curiosity killed the cat.

with older art he would still be so embarrassed. especially when you go on a spiel about how you always took him as more of a vanilla guy. his face is red as he swears he is but his history... well, it suggests otherwise. make fun of him and then make fun of how it makes him squirm to be teased. ask him if that's something else he's into and he might die of both embarrassment and excitement. 

- ☕

whenever i get an ask from you an angel gets its wings. a fairy is born anew 🧚‍♀️

i actually think younger patrick would be more embarrassed than you thought - it depends on your relationship with him. if you're his friend - yeah he doesn't give a fuck - he's teasing you for being a pervert and going through his stuff. if you're like.... a girl hes been crushing on and you stumble on it - he's flushing red. not out of shame, just more like. aur, shit, you weren't supposed to know that about me yet. the yet is important because if things went according to his diabolical plan, then you'd be into all this shit too, eventually, as soon as he managed to stumble his way into being your boyfriend. he catalogs your reaction and either downplays it as being stupid shit that hes not even really into if you look horrified but if you look flushed then hes like. kinda tugging on his ear with his own flushed face like. yeah. thats what im into.

older!patrick. absolutely no shame. he'd be watching it on his phone because you had an argument and dont wanna give him head. or you're hanging out and hes bored and he just. pops his earphones in and plays a tride and true classic. when you look over and act scandalized by what hes watching - something with alot of cum and balls and anal, probably - he just unplugs the earphones and turns the screen so you can see better. "you wanna watch?" you're like patrick..... this is crazy and he shrugs like its not a big deal. suddenly curious to know what you watch, then. you're very adamant about not going down that rode, but then something about his making fun of you - suggesting you're into cutesy stuff and that's fine, its cute, its adorable really - well, you just have to show him you're not so vanilla. turns a little awkward though when you play your favorite video and both of you get intensely turned on.

art..... literally wishing you'd just kill him. like death would be better than this, he's sure. he can feel his soul leaving his body actually. at first, you find it funny. i mean - "mommy milks my cock." you have to laugh. pushing at his shoulder when he hides his face in his hands like, 'mommy? sorry? mommy? sorry? mommy? sorry?' just almost in tears laughing over it until he glares weakly at you, his face flushed bright, bright pink and tells you to knock it off. something about his watery eyes and golden curls and pouty face.... you let the subject drop quickly. if only because you get uncomfortably wet. later on, when you try to joke about it again - pausing before you hand him the milk he asked for with a grin "say 'please mommy'" you feel completely blindsided when art bites his lips, looks at you from under gold lashes and says "please can i have my milk.... mommy?" you hand it to him. you feel an out of body experience. like great, art. now we're both perverts here.

older art..... think he'd have more daddy related content.... breeding kink.. daddy fucking the babysitter.... daddy fucking me in my cute pjs... ect ect...... he equally wants to die from shame when you find it. just utterly beside himself trying to explain hes not into younger women like that! its just - he just - he likes it when - he likes the thought of - he cant even explain himself. just fumbling over his words. its easy to tease him about it. call him and old pervert who wants to fuck tight jailbait pussy and be called daddy. if you call him daddy, even in a teasing lilt, his whole body is reacting. nipples tightening, breath shuddering, thighs clenching.... cock chubbing up in his sweats. he has no response for you.

[chaoticharrington]

Early Morning Surprise

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x afab!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!!!, MINORS THIS IS NOT FOR YOU PLEASE DNI(AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED), spit kink, slight overstimulation, thigh job, pet names, somnophilia, bdsm themes, praise, oral (f receiving), face riding, squirting, cum play, porn without plot, needy Mike 😵‍💫(if you squint slightly subby Mike)

Summary: Mike comes home from work and surprises you while you’re sleeping

Authors Note: Enjoy folks :) <3 I have three more fics lined up so stay tuned!

Word Count: 2.3k

When Mike works nights you always try your best to stay up and wait for him to come home, especially with this new job that seems to drain him so much after a shift. Always looking slightly horrified and even more tired than he already looks.

You were doing really good in the beginning, getting Abby all snuggled in bed, doing some laundry, making some dinner for yourself and even watching some tv on the couch. Where you started to go wrong was when you decided to migrate to your shared bedroom and lay in bed and read your favorite book. Your eyes start growing heavier and heavier with each page you read until your book is tipping forward onto your chest and your eyes are mostly closed. You drift to sleep and your book falls somewhere onto the floor losing your spot as you get more cozy in your sleep. Laying comfortably on your side, dreaming of an easier life for you, Abby, and Mike.

Until you feel yourself being pulled from your sleep, feeling little pecks on your neck and shoulder. You don’t think much of it, shifting onto your back to get more comfy. You feel the blankets gently pulled from your semi sleeping body and your legs softly pulled apart. You groan at the sudden chill that coats your body leaving goosebumps in its wake. Despite the cold your body starts to adjust and you begin drifting back to sleep.

Being pulled again from sleep, chasing a feeling… a really good feeling between your legs. Stirring by letting out a soft moan, absentmindedly grinding your hips into the feeling wanting more of it. That’s when you hear a moan that’s not yours…. but one that sounds familiar. You start testing your eyes by lightly opening and closing them, trying to get your bearings of your surroundings. You look down your vision still a little fuzzy, but you can make out just enough to see Mike lapping at the bundle of nerves between your legs like his life depended on it. You let out a louder moan

“F-fuck oh shit mike” you groan turning your head into your pillow. You remember the conversation you had had earlier that week with Mike about this fantasy he wanted to try out, and truth be told it was something you wanted to try too.

“Ssshhh shh baby go back to bed, daddy just needed to taste you” he mutters into your apex making the most obscene slurping noises

You gasp as he dives into your now very wet cunt like a starved man who’s not eaten in years. Licking and sucking every single crevice of you just to get every single drop of your arousal into his mouth. You’d never seen Mike so needy before and it was turning you on more than usual, knowing how much he needed you in this moment made you feel sexier than you’d ever felt before.

“m sorry honey I couldn’t help myself… I was so bored at work… lookin… at those screens all night… kept dreaming of this sweet sweet pussy…” he gravels, emphasizing the last few words by pointing his tongue and expertly circling your entrance.

You let out an even louder moan, now fully awake chasing your release the more he devours you. Your hips start rolling harder into his face, closing your thighs around his head, just trying to chase that feeling even more. Usually you’d be too self conscious to do something like this, chasing your own pleasure without thinking about him. But you couldn’t help it, it just felt so fucking good. And your inhibitions are down because you had just woken up, needing to chase your release in almost a primal, needier way.

Mike lets out the loudest moan you think you’ve ever heard from him, echoing inside the confines of your room. It spooked you, if Abby wasn’t already fast asleep it definitely would have scared you.

Mike lifts his head slightly, his nose all the way to his chin covered in your arousal and spit, he’s pupils blown clearly very turned on.

“Baby… I-please fuck my face… If I could devour you whole I would… I just… I need you” he says while he hangs his tongue out flat, lightly incasing your folds and grinding softly against the bed.

You take in a deep breath at his dirty words… mulling it over in your head… it’s not something you’d ever done before. But with how his lips and tongue already feel, you could imagine that it would at least feel just as good.

“Fuck okay” you say with a jagged breath

“It’s okay Angel I got you” he says as he grabs your hips and starts to move them so your clit is rubbing on his tongue.

He’s eyes never leave yours, showing you in each and every way that he wants this, no… needs this. Moaning and groaning into your folds reverberating into your core only egging you on more. You start getting the hang of it, no longer being guided by his hands but instead you guiding his with your hips.

His fingers making a home at your hips, digging deeper and deeper into your skin. The slight pain it caused only increase the unimaginable euphoria Mikes tongue was already creating for you. Gasping and moaning at a slightly alarming volume. The sensations becoming too much to bare, you grab onto his curls hard for some security, forcing another moan from Mikes lips.

You are hurtling faster than you’d care to admit towards release, grinding harder against Mikes face, coating his face in your wetness. Both of your moans quietly filling up the room careful not to wake abby.

At this point Mikes tongue is out lapping up everything you give him and letting your hips do all the work. The squelching noises between your legs only pushing you on even further to the edge.

“Mike oh my god Mike I- s’fuck I think i’m gonna cum” you shriek

He doesn’t respond verbally only showing you he heard you by moaning louder into your core. And then an explosion of color happened behind your eyes, you felt as though your body was floating in the air as you came hard. Soaking Mikes face even further in your juices.

“s’fucking pretty” he said as he came up for air, and pushing your folds apart to have better access to your clit and all the cum still freely coming from your center. Not even caring that you’ve already come down from your orgasm.

You scream in response, immediately covering your mouth, praying to whatever god you believe in that abby didn’t hear that and wake up. Your legs beginning to shake as Mike continues his assault on you, and you bite your hand to force yourself to be quiet.

“Sorry baby not done yet, I need more, I wanna see you cum again, you just look too fucking perfect, be a good girl for me and take it okay?” he mutters, it’s not a question, he’s telling you he’s not going to stop until he feels like he’s had his fill. Of course unless you used your safe word that the two of you had previously discussed, but you weren’t thinking about that right now. You were already flying towards the finish line for a second time. His moving your hips for you until you regain enough control to do it yourself, forcing you further into pleasure.

You grab onto his hair with your hand again harder than before, entangling his curly locks into your fingers. Youre knuckles turning white and your hand is beginning to hurt by how hard you were trying to contain yourself.

“Harder baby… do it harder, feels so good” he says to you dreamily, clearly so lost inbetween your folds.

You obliged him and pull even harder, pulling a whimper from his lips, muffled from being in between your thighs. You can feel the skin surrounding your core becoming sore from Mikes scruff, only adding to the already intense sensations.

You look down between your thighs to see that Mike is no longer looking at you, but eyes closed entranced and now shamelessly grinding his clothed cock against the edge of the bed unable to help himself.

“Fuck Mike, feels s’good” circling your hips pointedly to make his nose hit your clit, making you gasp.

You do the motion again and again and again, rocking the bed back and forth with a combination of your thrusts and his.

Then it hits you even harder than before, stealing all the breath from your lungs, pushing every bone and muscle further into ecstasy. Your mouth contorts into a silent scream, legs clamped around Mikes head and toes curled in pleasure.

The waves or pleasure still hitting you over and over again until Mikes tongue slows and he stops your hips. He licks one long stripe up your core before leaving kisses on each thigh.

You look up at him panting, trying to catch your breath. While you watch him stand up off the bed, seeing a wet spot of precum in his jeans.

He quickly pulls his shirt and boxers off, so you can see his painfully hard erection slap against his soft tummy.

He climbs on top of you eagerly, kissing you hard against your mouth. You moan as you taste yourself on his lips and tongue, it was wet and messy and you loved every second of it. Your mouth welcomed his tongue into yours as your tongues danced. He grabs the back of your head deepening the kiss, the both of you lose yourself into this for while. Grinding against each other and grabbing every single inch of skin that the two of you could grapple at.

He then slowly leans back, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. He grins at you lightly, clearly very happy with the outcome of your experiment.

He pushes himself off the bed and puts his hand in front of your face with an expectant look.

“Spit baby” he hints

You indulge him by gathering a bunch of saliva in your mouth and lightly spit it on to Mikes hand. He then takes that same hand and rubs your spit onto his cock. He pushes your knees together and lines himself up between your thighs.

He drives his cock inbetween your thighs and exhales a big breath. You moan at the visual he was creating above you by fucking your thighs. You were grateful for the downtime because your clit was aching from cumming twice in a row.

His thrusts are slow but hard, making the prettiest noises, his face scrunched up in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking perfect you know that?” he said breathlessly, picking up his pace slightly

You bite your lip, you love seeing how much you drove him crazy. His moans and groans are like music to your ears. You want to give him a show just as much as he was giving you one.

You grab the edges of your night shirt and slip your shirt over your head, leaving your tits now free to bounce in sync with his thrust. You grab them between your hands and push them together, pinching your nipples between your fingers. You let out a soft hiss, reawakening your abused clit.

“Fffuuuckkk me” he gasps at the sight of you.

“You like what you see?” you say as you lick your fingers to put right back on your nipples.

“Yeah f-fuck yes I do” he says shakily, you can feel his thrusts getting less controlled and his breathing becoming more shallow.

“You’re always so good for me baby, so fucking dirty too…my dirty girl” he coos

You smile shyly at his praise, and squeeze your thighs tighter together so Mike had more friction as he was reaching his climax.

Mike whimpers in response, his hips slapping erratically against your thighs, and with one final thrust he’s coming. He cries out as his cock spills his hot cum all over your thighs and stomach.

You moan in response, the bottom half of you now basically covered in his cum. You both look between your legs, iced like a cake, Mike entranced with this imagine runs his cum covered cock inbetween your folds one last time.

He takes one of his hands and runs it between your thighs and on your stomach collecting his cum on his fingers, bringing up to your mouth.

You open your mouth happily to suck and lick all the cum off his hand. You make eye contact with him and moan, making sure he knows that you’ve enjoyed it just as much as he did.

“Jesus.. christ baby… your gonna kill me one day I swear” he babbles

You chuckle with his fingers still in your mouth and then letting go with a pop. He inspects his hand for a second making sure every bit of his cum has been gathered up by your tongue

“Good girl baby, did such a good job f’me” he praises you

Your heart swoons and you pull him back down to you into an embrace. He chuckles and settles himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and his knees tucked behind yours.

You nuzzle backward into him, lazily rubbing circles against his arm that was wrapped around you.

He kisses your shoulders and neck, occasionally giving you little praises about how well you did or how beautiful you looked. You wished you could stay in this moment forever, feeling completely safe in his arms. You know tomorrow you’d have a longer discussion about the new activity you guys tried out tonight, but for now, you’d rest.

Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier, and Mikes breathing was leveling out behind you, knowing he’s close to sleep as well. You finally let your eyes drop as you both went into dreamland content and satisfied.

[55sturn]

✮ CRYING ON SATURDAY NIGHT

pairing: psycho!matt sturniolo x fem!reader [ implied/past tense ]

synopsis: in which matt has always leaned towards all things horrifying and brutal his entire life, his very obvious issues coming out in the form of a deeply disturbing interest in gore, murder, death. he’s always known that he needs help but he’s also always been capable of keeping his instincts under control, until that fateful saturday night.

warnings: angst, blood, gore, death, guns, fire, slightly descriptive murder, swearing. literally nothing happy.

THIRD PERSON POV

everyone knows that there are three extremely distinct signs of something evil, dark, and severely fucked up manifesting in someone. and they primarily show during one’s childhood.

the signs are bed-wetting, cruelty towards animals, and some sort of obsession with either fire or something that can seriously harm, maim, or even kill someone.

and for matt, he never showed those three specific signs, but he did show a heavy and deeply twisted interest in horror, gore, death, and murder from a young age. he loved watching horror movies from as young as six. he would grow giddy as the fake blood spewed across the screen, he would even laugh as the victims in the movies died gruesome deaths.

his traits manifested in the sign of extreme intelligence despite struggling horribly in school, a strong lack of remorse and empathy, no genuine emotional connection to anyone or thing, extreme poorly regulated anger, narcissistic behaviour, and ease when it came to manipulation paired with an unbelievable level of charm.

he was never harmed or abused as a kid, in fact he grew up in an extremely stable and loving family, so when his parents started noticing how…different, matt appeared compared to other children his age, especially his brothers, they were concerned. at first they thought it was a phase, him trying to be like the effortlessly cool guys he saw in the movies he loved, until he “accidentally” set his family home on fire one day while playing with matches.

he was striking the matches, letting them burn out until they were nothing but nubs before tossing them to the floor, and chris had walked into the room, ignoring matt’s actions until he got nervous, and then chris proceeded to yell for matt to stop and that just egged matt on, so instead of listening, he took a handful of matches, struck them, and threw them in the recycling bin full of cardboard boxes and newspapers before holding chris in his arms, preventing his brother from ratting on him. matt forced chris to watch as the flames grew to a increasingly dangerous height, his eyes glistening at the sight of his creation, before letting chris run to warn their parents.

from that moment on, matt’s parents were deeply worried and took matt to therapy, in hopes that it’d help, and it did, until the one saturday night that ruined everything.

THERE’S FIFTY-TWO WAYS TO MURDER ANYONE, ONE AND TWO ARE THE SAME BUT THEY BOTH WORK AS WELL.

matt mulled over every way he’s seen someone kill another person in the movies in his head, trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the unconscious douchebag in the trunk of his car. he knew about fifty-two ways to kill someone total.

if he had taken his meds this morning, he wouldn’t have hunted the guy that you went on a with down, he wouldn’t have picked the lock and snuck into the stupid asshole’s closest, holding a police grade flashlight in his hand, the weight of the metal cylinder heavy beneath fingers, waiting until tyler opened the door to clock him over the head with it.

but he had no time to dwell over what he didn’t do, and instead he drove to his family’s cape cod house, the first two ways that popped into his head were suffocation and strangulation, but considering tyler’s build, it’d take far too long. he took a moment to breathe as he reached over and popped open the glove box, finding a box of matches sitting atop the insurance papers and the glock that he bought as soon as he turned eighteen, and an idea came to him.

as he pulled into the driveway of the family lake-house, he pocketed the matches and tucked the gun into his waistband before popping open the trunk and dragging tyler over to the fire pit, throwing his body in the middle of it before grabbing the rope from his trunk, quickly binding the guy’s arms and legs together. as he waited for him to wake up, he texted you, telling you to come to the cape house, stating it was an emergency.

when tyler woke up again, he was quick to knock him out again, planning to lead you in through the front of the house. but when your car pulled up, matt wasn’t sure what to do because you were quick to climb out and run over to him, your body trembling as you realized what matt had done.

I KNOW WHEN YOU’RE HOME, I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU // YOU GO VICIOUSLY, QUIETLY AWAY.

your hand shook as you covered your mouth, you couldn’t fathom what you were seeing. you knew matt had some issues, and that he had a few dark fantasies but you never thought that matt, the quiet, seemingly gentle boy from your history class, was capable of murder. there was no way that your best friend, your matt, was capable of something so gruesome but he was.

“what the fuck is wrong with you matt?” you scream, unable to move your feet, feeling anchored to the spot you stood in.

“listen i didn’t want to do this, but seeing you with him set me off. i wanted to drop by your house and surprise you because i was thinking about you and i know when you’re home, but you weren’t home. so i checked your location. and then i drove by and saw you with him.” matt spits, his mind racing as he tried to reason with you.

“so what? did you ambush him in the fucking parking lot?”

“no. i tracked him down and whacked him with a flashlight and drove him here before calling you. it wasn’t hard to track him down considering how well known his family is.” matt scoffs, rolling his eyes as if that was the most obvious answer.

“you’re sick. did you call me here so you could kill me too?” you seethe, growing angry with matt’s audacity and terrified of how dangerous matt truly was.

“no. i called you here to prove that i’m doing this for you. for us. without tyler, there’s nothing standing in our way and we’ll be able to finally be together.” matt hums, his demeanour eerily calm as he flicks a handful of matches, throwing them on to tyler’s now dead and gasoline soaked body, matt had underestimated how hard the last whack to tyler’s head was before dumping a can of gasoline on him.

your sobs echoed in matt’s head as the flames grew, once again finding himself entranced by the way he could cause such a beautiful thing.

“you’re fucked in the head! i could never love someone like you!” you scream, watching as matt laughs at your comment before turning around and walking over you to, taking you face in his hands, you wanted to rip yourself away from him, to push him off of you, but you stood frozen in fear as matt looks at you.

“you don’t mean that, sweetheart.” matt whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, bringing you back to reality as you shove him away.

“don’t touch me you sick bastard! i will never love a demented monster like you. you should’ve been locked up from birth or even worse, i wish you died in the fire you started as a kid.” you screech, watching as matt’s jaw clenches, his hand slipping beneath his sweater, your heart pounding as you see the gun sitting in his hand, realizing it’s now aimed at you.

“take it back you bitch. say you don’t mean it and i can spare you and we can run away and live together and fall in love.” matt whispers, his voice cracking as your words cut him deep, all he wanted was for you, for someone, to actually love him, but the things you were saying were making him think you couldn’t and if he couldn’t have you, no one else will.

“no. i don’t want to love someone as severely fucked as -“ your words were cut off as a gunshot rang through the air, and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, and suddenly you felt something warm dripping down the front of your body. you went to wipe it away but in the gleam of the fire you see the thick, dark liquid coating your fingers, as you slowly fall to your knees.

matt had shot you in the chest.

“no no no. fuck!” matt mumbles as he pulls you into his lap, his hands trembling as he brushes your hair back, the blood in your mouth gurgling as you struggle to breath. the blood pools in your mouth causing you to cough and spit up a mouthful of blood.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart.” he whispers, tears falling down his face as he feels a strong sense of guilt for the the first time in his life, scared of what was going to happen.

“if you’re really sorry-“ you start, pausing to spit out more blood,

“you’ll turn yourself in.”

matt sobs against your shoulder, holding you tight to him as your body grows colder by the second, your breathing growing ragged and short, the time between each breath growing longer than the last. matt holds you for a long time after your last breath, softly brushing his fingers through your hair, whimpering as it grows matted with blood.

BUT THE BACKSEAT OF THE DRIVE-IN IS SO LONELY WITHOUT YOU // THERE WAS SOMETHING I FORGOT TO SAY, I WAS CRYING ON SATURDAY NIGHT, I WAS OUT CRUISING WITHOUT YOU, THERE WERE PLAYING OUR SONG.

as matt drove back to the city, his head filled with everything he forgot to tell you before you died in his arms. he had taken what you said in your past moments seriously, deciding that if he wants to genuinely make peace with himself and what he had done, he needed to confess to his crimes.

but a song on the radio caught his attention, BRIGHTSIDE by the lumineers, which was coincidentally yours and matt’s song. and subconsciously, he headed toward your favourite place. the drive-in theatre just outside of the city.

as he parked in the back row of the drive-in, he climbed into the backseat, listening to the rest of the song play as he sobbed against his hands. he knew what he had done, and there was no way to undo what he had done, so as the song finished, he climbed back behind the wheel and drove toward the police station.

AND THE COPS WONT LISTEN ALL NIGHT, AND MAYBE I’LL BE OVER JUST AS SOON AS I FILL THEM ALL IN.

as matt sat in the interrogation room, he mulled over what he could do if they set him free while the cops investigated. he figured he could possibly stop by your house, and sit in your room and smoke a cigarette, like you two used to do in highschool, one last time.

or maybe he could find a way to end his life, so he could see you one last time and hug you again, and apologize for how irrationally he acted.

but the one thing he did know was that he was coming clean for you, honouring your last words.

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© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[meganelixabethh]

I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

[cheynovak]

 Something fragile

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N        

Warnings: Toxic masculinity, cursing, violence, alcohol drug use, cursing, mentioning of sex, I think that’s it? ... 

Side note: English isn’t my first language 

Words: 6600  

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

--  

Soldier boy just got out of Russia thanks to the boys. But his journey back to reality has been fucked up. Streets are filled with rainbow colours and new pussy looking heroes. Streets were even more crowded, nothing seemed the same anymore. And to top it all off he had some severe ptsd and a new superpower. 

After the explosion he ran to recover his blackout, meeting y/n a young woman on her way home from volunteering at the veteran shelter. Seeing how he looked confused, offering him help.  

-- 

Ben, known to the world as Soldier Boy, stumbled through the bustling streets of downtown New York. The sun was blinding after so many years in the dark, cold confines of a Russian facility.  

Forty years of captivity had left his mind in a haze, his body in a state of perpetual tension. Every sound, every face, was an assault on his senses. He blinked against the garish lights of electronic billboards and the incessant buzz of smartphones.  

People moved past him in waves, their faces buried in glowing screens, oblivious to the world around them. Ben felt like he had stepped into a dream, a strange, incomprehensible dream. As he walked, his eyes darted from one unfamiliar sight to another.  

Men holding hands, walking side by side with easy intimacy. Ben's lips curled into a reflexive sneer. He couldn't help it; the world he had known was gone, replaced by something that felt alien and uncomfortable.  

The 1980s had their problems, but this? This was beyond his understanding. He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. The memories of his captivity were like shadows, lurking at the edges of his mind, ready to pounce the moment he let his guard down. He had to stay focused, had to keep moving.  

As he passed a café, the smell of coffee and pastries wafted out, mingling with the scents of car exhaust and city grime. Ben's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He paused, glancing around warily, wishing he had a few dollars in his pocket.  

Lost in thought, a voice pulled his attention away from the widow. "Excuse me, are you okay sir?" Ben looked up to see a young woman with concern in her eyes. "Yeah" He wanted to walk on. “Are you eh, hungry or thirsty something?” Ben looked confused at her. “I can get you something if you want?” she added in a sweet voice. 

“Let a woman buy me a fucking coffee? What a fucking pussy would that make me.” and he walked on. 

Ben continued down the street, the sights and sounds of the modern world were overwhelming, a constant reminder of how much time had passed and how out of place he was. As he walked, a familiar melody reached his ears. It was faint, but unmistakable, the haunting strains of a Russian folk song that had played endlessly in the lab where they had experimented on him.  

The song was a cruel reminder of his years of suffering, a soundtrack to his nightmares. His pulse quickened, and his vision blurred. The world around him seemed to tilt, and he could feel the panic rising, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.  

The radiation within him, the cursed gift of his captivity, began to stir, responding to his heightened emotional state. Suddenly, without warning, a burst of energy erupted from his chest. The street around him exploded in a violent flash of light and heat. The force of the blast shattered windows, sent cars flying, and threw pedestrians to the ground.  

Screams filled the air as chaos erupted. Ben staggered, disoriented and horrified by the idea what he had done. He had no control over this power, no way to stop it once it started. The destruction was immense, and he could hear the wails of the injured and the dying.  

His heart pounded in his chest. Y/N heard the explosion and felt the shockwave. She had been walking away from the café, thinking about the troubled man she had just met. When she saw the devastation and the panicked crowd, her first instinct was to help.  

She pushed her way through the throngs of fleeing people, her heart racing with fear and determination. She spotted him through the smoke and debris, standing in the centre of the chaos, looking lost and broken. She rushed to his side, her eyes wide with shock at the scene around her.  

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. The heat radiating from his body made her flinch, but she didn't back away. "I... I didn't mean to..." Ben stammered, over and over. Y/N looked around, her mind racing. She had to get him away from here, away from the people he might hurt.  

"We need to get you out of here," she said firmly. "Come with me." Ben nodded, dazed and compliant. He allowed her to lead him away from the scene of destruction, away from the horror he had unleashed. They ducked into an alley, where the noise of the city was slightly muffled, and Y/N took a moment to catch her breath.  

"Listen," she said, her voice urgent but calm. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're not alone, okay? I'll help you." Ben looked at her. "Why are you helping me?" "Because you need it," Y/N replied simply. "And because everyone deserves a chance."  

Ben nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and fear still heavy on his shoulders. Y/N supported Ben as they walked through the quieter streets, her arm around his waist to steady him. His weight pressed heavily against her, but she didn't falter. She was determined to help him, no matter what it took.  

The path they took was familiar to her, one she had walked many times on her way to the veteran help centre where she volunteered. The centre was closed at this hour, but Y/N had a key. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before unlocking the door and guiding Ben inside.  

The cool, dim interior was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a sanctuary from the madness of the world. "Sit here," Y/N said softly, helping Ben into a chair in the small break room. She quickly moved to the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the cupboards.  

She handed them to Ben, who took them with trembling hands. "What's this shit?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. But still opening the drink. Y/N sat across from him, ignoring his muttering complains, watching as he opened the bottle and took a sip. She could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the lines of pain and weariness that spoke of years of torment.  

"You're safe here," she said gently. "Take your time. Eat something.” Ben’s eyes fixed on her. He unwrapped the granola bar and took a small bite, chewing slowly. The simple act of eating seemed to ground him, to bring him back from the edge.  

"Why are you helping?" he said after a moment. "You don't even know me."  

"I know enough," Y/N replied. Ben leaned back in the chair, the weight of his ordeal starting to lift, if only slightly. He looked around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the pamphlets about support groups and therapy sessions.  

His expression hardened, and he scoffed. "What kind of shit is this?" he muttered, pushing the granola bar away. "A place for vets who have difficulties getting back to the real world." Y/N answered ignoring the disgusting look on his face. "For who can’t handle their crap? PTSD, trauma... that's for fuck-ups who can't cut it. Real men don’t need this kind of help."  

Y/N sighed, her patience unyielding. She had encountered this attitude before. She knew it was a defence mechanism, a way to mask vulnerability. "What's your name?" He didn't answer, "I'm Y/N..." she said hoping he would be willing to answer if she took the first step. "Ok doll." was all he said, she didn't push further.  

"PTSD is real. It doesn’t make you weak or a 'fuck-up.' It means you've been through something traumatic, something no one should have to face alone." Ben’s eyes flashed with anger. "I've faced plenty alone and survived. Don't need a bunch of pity and hand-holding to get by." " 

I’m not offering pity," Y/N said firmly. "I’m offering support. There’s a difference. Some have been through hell, and it's okay to need help coming back from that." Ben clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable.  

"You don't get it," he snapped. "I was a soldier. I fought, bled, and survived on my own. This..." he gestured around the room “... this is for people who can't handle the easy world." Y/N met his gaze steadily.  

"Maybe you did survive on your own, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it alone. Needing help doesn’t make you less of a man. It makes you human." He looked away, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.  

"You don't know what it's like. What they did to me..." "No, I don't," Y/N admitted. "But I do know that what you're feeling is valid. And that this place exists because too many people try to do it alone and end up hurting themselves or others."  

Ben shook his head, "Bullshit" Y/N looked him in the eye. "Is it? Didn't you just blow up in the middle of the street? Literally?" He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for some kind of hate or reluctance, maybe even fear but all he saw was reassurance, patience. 

Ben stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His movements were restless, his mind clearly in turmoil. He began to walk toward the door, but Y/N called after him, her voice gentle but firm.  

"Wait. If you ever feel like talking, or just need a place to be... I'll be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Other days, there are other people who can help if you don't want to talk to me. You don’t have to go through this alone."  

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he just nodded curtly and walked out into the night. The next day, Y/N was cleaning up after a session, stacking chairs and tidying the break room. That day had been busy, and she was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, the kind that came from helping others.  

She was lost in thought, reflecting on the day’s work, when she heard the soft chime of the bell above the door. "We're closing," she called out over her shoulder. "The next session is tomorrow." There was a pause, and then a familiar voice responded. "It's me... Ben."  

Y/N turned around, surprised but not displeased. Ben stood in the doorway, looking uncertain but determined. He seemed a little more composed than the day before, but the haunted look in his eyes was still there. "Ben..." she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm glad you came back. Come on in."  

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here " he admitted. Y/N nodded, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I was just finishing up, but I’m here if you need to talk."  

Ben sat down, his movements still a bit stiff. "I don’t know where to start." Ben settled into the chair, looking around the room before finally meeting Y/N’s patient gaze. “Where you feel like.” He seemed to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath.  

“Everything’s different now,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration. “The world... it’s nothing like what I remember. People, technology, everything’s changed. It's like I don’t recognize it anymore.”  

Y/N nodded, her expression encouraging him to continue. “I mean, look at the way people are glued to their weird portable phones,” Ben continued, gesturing vaguely. “No one talks to each other face-to-face. Back in my day, if you had something to say, you said it. Now, it’s all that small shitty thing. And the clothes people wear… men walking around in clothing, colours I wouldn’t have been caught dead in.” 

He paused, running a hand through his hair. “And don’t even get me started on the way people talk about feelings. PTSD? Trauma? In my time, you just sucked it up and got on with it.”  

Y/N listened attentively, her expression understanding. She knew better than to interrupt; sometimes, people just needed to voice their frustrations. “Even the food is different,” Ben continued, his tone a mix of incredulity and irritation.  

“Everything’s organic, gluten-free, plant-based crap. What happened to a good old-fashioned burger and fries? And the music… nothing like the rock ‘n roll I grew up with. It’s all electronic noise now.”  

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like the world moved on and left me behind. I was a soldier once, a fucking hero. Now, I’m just...” Y/N waited a moment to make sure he was done before she spoke.  

"How long were you gone?" Ben's eyes locked on her, ignoring her question and stood up to leave. Y/N called after him. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" He turned back to face her, his expression guarded.  

"No," he admitted. "I didn't need much sleep since I got back." Y/N frowned, concern etched across her features. "You need a place. There’s a motel nearby. I can arrange a room for you, but only if you agree to come to the sessions here every week."  

Ben laughed, a rough, humourless sound. "You’re really something, you know that? Since when are woman making deals like that. But alright, I need a place. I'll come to you for sessions. Only you, no one else."  

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Deal. Every Friday?" Ben smiles looking her up and down while licking his lips. "Sure doll... I see you on Friday." "Tell the motel owner I send you." 

Next Friday 

Y/N waited anxiously at the centre for Ben to arrive. She checked the clock repeatedly, her concern growing as the minutes ticked by without any sign of him. Finally, she decided to head to the motel to check on him.  

When she reached his door, she knocked firmly. After a few moments, the door opened, and she was taken aback to see an elderly woman standing there, looking slightly embarrassed. "Excuse me," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I’m looking for Ben. Is he here?"  

The woman glanced back over her naked shoulder, and Ben’s voice called out from inside. "Just in time doll, why don’t you join us." Y/N stepped into the doorway, seeing Ben sitting on the bed naked with a mirror filled with powder in his hand.  

“Oh my...” Y/N turned around covering her eyes seeing the woman quickly gathered her things, brushing past her as she left the room in a hurry. Y/N’s heart sank as she saw the mess inside and the unmistakable signs of a night spent with company.  

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, looking unrepentant. "To what do I own this suprise," he said with a smirk. “We had an appointment, remember?” She glanced over at him. “Can you please cover up?” He said looking up at the ceiling.  

"Yeah about that talk, I don’t need your help sweetheart. I just needed a good fuck and something to calm me down." Y/N felt a wave of disappointment and concern. "Ben, this isn’t the way to deal with what you’re going through. You said you’d come to the sessions."  

He scoffed, standing up and moving closer to her, putting on dirty sweatpants. "They’re for people who need a shoulder to cry on. I’m not one of them. But if you really want to make it up to me for scaring off my company, you could always... continue where she left off." He nodded to his crotch.  

"Stop right there," Y/N cut him off, her voice firm and filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I’m here to help you, not to be manipulated or disrespected. You’re better than this, Ben. I know you are."  

He looked at her, a flicker of something, shame, maybe, crossing his face before it hardened again. "You don’t know anything about me."  

"I know you’re hurting," Y/N said, refusing to back down. "And I know you’re scared. But pushing people who want to help away isn’t going to help. You need to face what’s going on inside you. Literally!” 

Ben clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I don’t need your pity."  

"It’s not pity," Y/N said quietly. "It’s compassion. And it’s a lifeline, if you’re willing to take it. But you have to want to change, Ben. No one can force you." For a moment, the room was silent. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.  

"Ben, if you're more comfortable, we can keep the sessions here in the motel room. But you have to promise I won't walk in on anything like this again." Ben's smirk widened as he walked closer to her, his eyes dark and intent.  

He reached out, his hands gripping her arms and pulling her closer to him. Y/N recoiled, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. "Ben, let go of me," she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, feeling his beard softly scratching, as he whispered,  

"Don't take away my needs for women and drugs, or I'll take it out on you." Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear control her. She forced herself to stand her ground, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve.  

"This isn't a joke, Ben. You need help, and I'm here to offer it. But I won't be intimidated or manipulated by you." For a moment, Ben's grip tightened, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weakness. When he found none, his expression wavered, uncertainty flickering across his face.  

He released her abruptly, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered, his bravado faltering. "We'll have the sessions here. But you better not try to change me."  

"I’m not here to change you," Y/N said, rubbing her arms where his hands had held her. "I’m here to help you find a way to live with what you’ve been through. But you have to meet me halfway. See me as, i don’t know, a friend?" Ben looked away, his jaw clenching.  

"I don’t need a friend" he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Yes, you do," Y/N said softly.  

As Y/N turned to leave, her mind racing with concern and frustration. She reached the door, Ben called out, stopping her in her tracks. "Where are you going?" he asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and challenge.  

"I want the session now." She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing as he nodded toward the bed. Thinking this was process. "Sit," he said padding the bed next to him, but she hesitated, her gaze fixed on the rumpled sheets that were a stark reminder of what had just happened there. 

"No," Y/N replied firmly. "I'll sit over here." She moved to a chair by the small table, positioning herself as far from the bed as possible. "Let’s talk, go ahead." She said, Ben watched her for a moment, sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.  

"Fine." He took a deep breath, his expression darkening as he began. "Back in the day, women knew their place. They knew how to treat a man. They'd do anything to please me, anything I wanted. They'd cook, clean, and make sure I was taken care of in bed. They’d do whatever it took to make me happy. They understood what real men need."  

Y/N's stomach turned at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, listening intently. "Nowadays, it’s different," Ben continued, a sneer in his voice. "Women think they can do whatever they want. They don’t respect men like they used to. They want to be equal, to have careers and opinions. It’s all bullshit. They don’t know how to take care of a real man. They think they're entitled to everything, without giving anything in return."  

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers, trying to see her reaction. "The women I’ve been with since I got back... they don’t measure up. They’re too independent, too... modern. They don’t understand what a man like me needs. They just complain and whine, instead of doing their job."  

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she processed his toxic words. "Ben, do you really think that’s what relationships are supposed to be like? One person serving the other without any mutual respect or partnership?" He scoffed. "Partnership? Respect? Those are just modern buzzwords. Real relationships are about roles. Men lead, women follow. It’s how it’s always been."  

"Does that make you happy?" Y/N asked quietly. "Do those kinds of relationships fulfil you? Or do they leave you feeling empty and alone after they leave?" Ben’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he masked it with anger.  

Y/N pushed his buttons just a little more, “Is that why you didn’t want me to leave? Because then you’ll be alone?” Ben’s lip twitched "You don’t know what you're talking about. You’re just another modern woman who thinks she can lecture me about life."  

"I’m not trying to lecture you, Ben," Y/N said softly. "I’m trying to understand you. But more importantly, I want you to understand yourself. These beliefs, this anger... it’s not just about the world changing. It’s about you feeling lost and trying to find control in a world that’s different from what you knew."  

He glared at her, but didn’t interrupt. "Let’s dig deeper," Y/N continued. "Why do you feel the need of control over women? What are you really afraid of?" Y/N’s question seemed to strike a nerve. Ben’s expression darkened, and he abruptly stood up, in two paces he stood tall, towering over her.  

His voice rose as he leaned in close, anger radiating from him. "Why do I feel the need to exert control? What am I afraid of? You don’t know anything about me!" Y/N didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her calmness a contrast to his rage. This seemed to catch him off guard, and he paused, staring at her with a mix of curiosity and frustration.  

"Here she is, lecturing men but this little princess is just as big of a fuck up like the men she helps, isn’t she?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Most people would be scared, what did you see that made you a stone-cold bitch?" 

Y/N took a deep breath, maintaining her composure, not willing to share her story with him just yet, but he needed something from her to build trust.  "I’ve faced fear before, Ben. I grew up as the daughter of a veteran. My father came back from war a different man. He was aggressive, a drunk. He’d beat me whenever he felt like it, accidently killed my mother in front of me while he was high and saw things there weren’t. So no, Ben, you don’t scare me."  

Ben’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face, maybe even a little regret. He stepped back, his anger momentarily replaced by something else, perhaps respect, perhaps understanding, perhaps pity. "So, you have daddy issues, poor baby.”  

"I’ve had help" Y/N said softly. "But understand this, Ben: I've seen what anger and no control can do to a person. It doesn’t lead to happiness or peace. It leads to more pain.” Y/N stood up, stepping closed to him, toe to toe.  

Her eyes were unwavering, her voice firm. "I have patience, Ben. But lose your temper like this one more time, and you'll be alone. Understand?" Ben’s lip twitched in anger. He moved the chair aside, placed his hands against the wall behind her, leaning in close.  

"Maybe I should teach you some manners," he growled, his breath hot against her face. Y/N didn’t flinch. She looked him straight in the eyes, her voice steady and cold.  

"Go ahead, try it. But understand this: I’ve dealt with men like you my whole life. You think you can intimidate me? You’re wrong. And if you do this, you’ll lose the only person who’s trying to help you. Do you really want to go down that road?"  

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Ben’s eyes were filled with rage, but beneath it, Y/N could see a flicker of doubt and confusion. Slowly, his hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped back, a mix of anger and frustration playing across his features. 

“Good," Y/N said. "Now, let’s get back to talking. We’re not done yet." - “Oh no, we’re done for today doll.” he said opening the door. She followed him. 

Y/N walked through the door Ben held open for her, her eyes briefly and unconsciously sweeping over his toned chest, noticing the small freckles scattered across his skin, similar to the ones on his face.  

She took a deep breath, focusing back on the conversation. "Ben," she said, her voice firm but kind, "see my advice as tough love. I'm a friend who wants to help you, not someone you can... fuck around with"  

Ben's smirk returned, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Tough love, huh? Never thought I'd hear that from you." Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression unwavering. "Well, get used to it. I'm not here to cuddle you. I'm here to help you find a way to live in this new world, to help you become the person you want to be."  

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I get it. Tough love it is." She nodded back, feeling a small sense of victory. "Good. I'll see you next week. Same time." As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her, a mix of curiosity and respect in his gaze.  

It was a start, and for now, that was enough. She had made it clear that she wouldn't be pushed around, and Ben seemed to understand that. One step at a time, she reminded herself.  

In the following sessions, Ben was more composed. He wore clothing and there were no unexpected visitors, though Y/N could still smell the lingering scent of sex in the air and noticed the traces of cocaine on the mirror beside his bed. Despite these signs, he began to talk more openly, allowing her to glimpse the deeper layers of his pain.  

One evening, as they sat across from each other, Ben finally broached a subject he had been avoiding. "My team... they betrayed me," he said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. Y/N leaned in slightly, encouraging him to continue.  

"Tell me more about that," she said gently. He took a deep breath, his eyes distant as he recounted the memories. "We were supposed to be a unit, a family. But they sold me out. They handed me over to the Russians.”  

He took his time to think about his next words. “Forty years, doll. Forty years in that hellhole because of them." Y/N nodded, her expression empathetic. "That must have been incredibly painful, feeling that betrayal from people you trusted."  

Ben's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "It was more than painful. It broke me. I thought I could trust them, but they were just using me. And when I was no longer useful, they discarded me. Even my own girl."  

"It's understandable to feel angry and hurt," Y/N said softly. "But holding onto that anger will only continue to harm you. You need to find a way to process those feelings, to let go of the pain, if you want to move forward."  

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. After weeks of sessions, Y/N felt they had made enough progress to broach a crucial topic. As they sat in the motel room, Ben seemed more relaxed, though the ever-present tension lingered beneath the surface.  

"Ben," Y/N began, her voice steady, "do you want to be Soldier Boy again?" He looked up, startled. "How do you...?" Y/N smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I've been listening, the pieces of your story. The details, the hints. I put them together."  

Ben's surprise turned into a wry smile. "You're smarter than you look." His eyes roamed her body like they did so often, at first, she felt uncomfortable by it, now she had learned the difference is his looks.  

This one wasn’t filled with heat, or not as much, no it was more an appreciation look. 

"Thanks, I think," Y/N replied, chuckling. "But seriously, do you want to go back to that life? To being Soldier Boy?"  

He leaned back, scratching his beard. "I don’t know. Part of me does. It’s all I’ve ever known. But another part of me wants to kill my old team and move on." Y/N ignored his lasts sentence.  

As they continued their conversation, Y/N felt a growing sense of optimism. Seeing Ben was starting to see beyond his past, to consider a future that wasn’t defined by his old identity. 

As Y/N ended their session she stood up and placed a hand on his arm. “You did good today Ben, I'm proud of you.” She could see the shock in his eyes, realising no one had ever told him they were proud of him. Not as sincerely like she just did. 

Ben’s eyes flickered to her lips and back a few times, so, before he could so something to ruin their bond she turned away. “See you next week.”  

Next week  

Ben paced the motel room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Y/N was late. He tried to convince himself that maybe she was just held up, but as the minutes ticked by, anger began to simmer.  

Just when he had started to open up, to trust her, she didn't show up. The feeling of abandonment gnawed at him, intensifying his frustration. He threw the table a crossed the room, trying to let go of his anger.  

Deep down he knew she was like everyone else, thinking: “Maybe the fact that he was Soldier Boy pushed her away? Fucking pussy, you shouldn’t have told her about your fucking feelings. Man the fuck up!” 

By Saturday, his anger had turned into a determined need for answers. He decided to walk by the centre where Y/N volunteered, hoping to find her there, she told him the last weeks she had fulltime hours.  

He needed some explanation. As he approached, he saw her at the doors, but she wasn't alone. A man in a suit stood with her, and they were arguing heatedly. Ben's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange.  

The man gestured aggressively, his face twisted in anger. Y/N flinched at his movement, just so slight that most people wouldn't notice, but Ben did. Knowing she doesn’t flinch just like that unless...  

His anger flared, a protective instinct kicking in. He strode up to them, his presence immediately drawing their attention. "Hey!" Ben barked, stepping between Y/N and the man.  

 

"What's going on here?" The man in the suit turned to face him, irritation clear in his eyes. "This is none of your business caveman, leave." Ben's gaze hardened. "It is my business if you're bothering her."  

 

“Oh...” the man looked at Y/N “This is one of your little projects!” Turning back to Ben. “I’m sorry buddy, but I need to talk to my girl.” Ben looked at Y/B seeing her face twitch at the words ‘my girl’.  

 

“Just go away Peter. We’re done I told you last night.” But then Ben noticed something he hadn't seen before: a faint bruise on Y/N's cheek, barely hidden by makeup. His eyes narrowed, and his chest tightened with anger.  

 

Ben glanced at Y/N, who noticed his eyes on her and looked away, clearly distressed. "Who is this guy, Y/N?" She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's my ex-boss and... ex-boyfriend."  

 

The man's sneer grew. "We were just having a conversation. Nothing for you to worry about." Ben's eyes flicked back to the man, his anger simmering just below the surface. "A conversation that left a bruise on her face?"  

 

The man's expression turned smug. "She left me because of one little mistake. She needs to learn her place. I’m sure you understand." Ben's chest began to glow faintly, his rage manifesting physically. "You piece of shit."  

 

The ex-boyfriend didn't seem to notice the glow at first, but when Y/N placed her hand on Ben's chest, trying to calm him, she gasped in pain, pulling her hand back with a burn. "Ben, stop!" she cried, her eyes wide with fear and concern.  

 

The man took a step back, finally realizing he was pissing of a supe. "What the hell...." Before Ben could react further, Y/N stepped in front of him, her unburned hand on his arm, pleading.  

 

"Ben, please. Calm down. Don’t let him get to you. This isn’t the way." Ben's eyes met hers, and the glow began to fade as he struggled to control his anger. His fists unclenched, but his eyes remained fixed on the man.  

 

"You’re lucky she’s here. But if I ever see you near her again, I won’t hold back." The ex-boyfriend, now visibly shaken, took another step back. "So now you take care of freaks too?" he muttered. “I hope they can fix your issues.” he added before walking away. 

Ben looked at her, opening the door for her so she could get inside. ”Let me see your hand.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take care of myself.” But Ben thought differently, pushing her toward the table, his eyes demanding her to sit down.  

Ben searched around the kitchen for the first aid kit, his movements still tense from the encounter. When he found it, he brought it over to Y/N and carefully began treating her burned hand.  

"So, you slept with your boss," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of teasing scepticism. Y/N smirked, wincing slightly as the cool ointment touched her skin. "Never thought that was your kink," Ben chuckled, the tension easing slightly.  

"I though more in the line of, older man, calling them daddy, spanking your perfect little ass... Guess I’ve still got a lot to learn about you." He looked up at her, seeing her reaction, she tried to hide a smile, the humour lightening the mood.  

"It was a mistake," she admitted, her expression growing more serious. "We were together before he was my boss. Things were good at first, but then he had stress, started drinking more, and everything went downhill."  

Ben nodded, listening when she finally opened up to him. “I saw my father in him, determine to heal him before he could hurt anyone.” she said looking at his hands gentle as he wrapped her hand in a bandage.  

"And then he hit you?" Ben asked without joking about her ‘daddy issues’ - "Yeah," she said softly. "That was the last straw. I couldn’t stay with him after that." Ben finished wrapping her hand, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and respect.  

"You did the right thing by leaving. No one deserves to be treated like that." She looked confused at him, he noticed "Just because I think a woman should be at home, cooking for her man, please him doesn't mean I would hit her... unless she likes a little spanking in the bedroom." He winks at her.  

She could feel the soft pink on her cheeks burning, "Thanks, Ben," she said, her smile returning. Ben looked at Y/N after taking care of her hand, a sense of resolve in his eyes. "I need to take care of a few things," he said, his voice gentle but determined.  

"You won't be seeing me for a while." Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of his words. Ben looked at Y/N, concern etched in his features. "Are you going to be okay being alone?"  

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softening. "Are you?" He chuckled, a hint of self-awareness in his laughter. "No, not really." She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Me neither." 

Y/N looked at Ben, her expression turning serious. "What are your plans?" Ben hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to hers. "I... I'm going to visit an old friend," he admitted reluctantly.  

 

"Someone who can help me get my suit back." Y/N's brows furrowed in concern. "Your suit? Why do you need that?" He looked away again, the weight of his words heavy on his shoulders. "To... settle some unfinished business.” Her eyes widened in alarm. "Ben, you can't be serious.”  

 

"I have to," he insisted, his voice tight with determination. "They betrayed me, Y/N. They left me to rot in that hellhole for forty years. I can't just let that go." Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers, her touch gentle but firm. "Please, Ben. Think about what you're doing. Revenge won't heal anything." 

As Ben and Y/N looked at each other, there was a palpable tension in the air. For the first time, they felt a stirring of attraction, a spark igniting between them. Y/N's gaze lingered on Ben in a way she hadn't before, truly seeing him for the first time.  

She noticed the depth of his green eyes, the curve of his full lips, the scattering of freckles across his skin. There was a ruggedness to him, a rawness that drew her in. Ben found himself captivated by Y/N in a way he hadn't expected.  

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips, imagining the softness of them against his own. He felt a pull towards her, a magnetic force that seemed to draw them closer with each passing moment.  

Slowly, almost instinctively, they began to close the space between them. The air crackled with anticipation as their breaths mingled, their hearts beating in sync. In that moment her hands moved to his cheek, a tender gesture as she pulled him closer and kissed him softly.  

He leaned into the kiss, savouring the moment, feeling the soft scratch of his beard against her skin. When he pulled back she kept her eyes closed, she could hear him moving. Knowing what he is going to do. 

She heard the door closing, reality crashed back in, and a single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. In the quiet of the room, she couldn't help but wonder why it hurt so much. The sudden ache in her heart caught her off guard, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. 

Her eyes where still closed, her fingers moved over her lips, trying to hold on to the lingering sensation of Ben's kiss. 

--

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[goldenfigtree]

The L Word

Summary: yet another glimpse into you and Leon’s relationship where Leon realizes that his feelings for you are stronger than he thought.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x FemReader

Warning: fluff, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, babe)

A/N: Yet another Drabble I wrote instead of sleeping enjoy merp

It was yet another day where you two decided to relax all day indoors. Something Leon insisted on doing so the morning after he came home. You couldn’t really blame him. After dealing with some disgustingly horrifying monsters, you would also like to escape reality through the static of the tv screen.

What you didn’t know was that he really just wanted an excuse to wrap you in his arms. After every mission he often found himself touch starved, craving it like a wild animal. With you now by his side, it was only through the touch of your hand on his face, your arms around him, that he knew he was home.

That he was no longer perceived as a weapon but as a person.

After this mission specifically, your absence really took a toll on him. Four long months without your presence or to even hear your voice felt like he was waning off an addiction he didn’t know he had. To stomach the distance meant staring at a Polaroid picture of you that he kept in his wallet. It didn’t seem to help, if anything it felt like it was making it even worse.

It was these, what he considered, strange behaviors that made him question how much he liked you. He would be shooting down deformed monstrosities and wondering what you were doing right at that moment. Every night, he found his hand outstretched on the other side of the hotel bed, wishing you were there.

Did this mean he didn’t just like you but felt something far stronger?

Maybe even the L word?

Leon far before Raccoon City could have easily answered this question. But as he went on living, the lines that were once so bold were now blurring and fading away.

“So, a movie night?” You slur out your words playfully as you open the pantry. You pursed your lips in disappointment as you scanned the shelves for something, anything for your movie night. But nothing was there, “Might need to make a quick trip to the grocery store” you mutter to yourself while clicking your tongue. You were clearly excited by the idea of spending a day watching movies and cuddling with your lover, so the fact that there was a lack of your typical movie night snacks was mildly disappointing. Leon let out an amused chuckle, leaning against the pantry doorframe, his frame close behind you, his shadow consuming you.

“It’s not the snacks that I’m craving, pretty girl” he flirts in his suddenly husky voice. Tapping your chin you turn to him and hum,

“Ah, the movie that’s right! What are you in the mood for?” you ask, blissfully unaware of his insinuation. He can’t help but smile as he shakes his head,

“I’m in a bit of a romantic mood” he slyly says pulling you close with his hand on your waist. Blushing slightly you affectionately pat his chest before moving over to slip on your shoes and grab your bag from the hall tree,

“I’m gonna run to the grocery store real quick, wanna come?”

Without hesitation, Leon walks out with you to the car. Always one to refuse you the liberty of running errands by yourself in fear of something happening to you. Opening the driver’s door for you first, he then slips into the passenger side. A liberty you gladly took from him a while back when you witnessed how he drove. As long as he was with you, he was strictly passenger princess.

After the drive, you parked the car and opened your door without thinking, which earned a stern look from Leon. You sigh and roll your eyes as you shut the door, watching him get out to walk to your side and open the door for you,

“Thanks babe” you say defeatedly, a smirk in your view as you walked in front of him towards the store,

“Any time” he warmly replies, subconsciously grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

Walking from aisle to aisle, the two of you discussed and debated which snacks to take home. At one point you and him had to suffice to not getting twizzlers or red vines because the both of you were unwavering on your opinions on which is better. Eventually, you and Leon make it to the ice cream section, where yet an argument sprouted, except this time it was purposely provoked,

“Should we get some ice cream?” You ask wiggling your eyebrows as you held up a pint of Talenti gelato. Leon, being Italian, scoffs at the pint,

“That’s gelato, babe” you chuckle and roll your eyes, putting the gelato pint back in its respective spot in the freezer,

“What’s the difference?” you ask sweetly, a smirk on your lips as you mentally prepared for what’s to come.

Leon turns to look at you incredulously, “What’s the difference? What’s the difference?”

You chuckle and roll your eyes, gripping the shopping cart as you cock your hip,

“Oh here we go”

“Gelato is denser, more rich than ice cream” Leon explains, listing the differences with his fingers,

“Uh huh” you deadpan

“Ice cream uses eggs, gelato doesn’t” he adds matter-of-factly

“Got it” you deadpan again, stifling a giggle at his passionate explanation. You couldn’t help but find it humorous and adorable that he fell for your schemes to get him like this every time. You loved to tease him and just couldn’t help it.

Once you two purchased your movie night snacks and Leon had finally got his point across, it was finally time for the movie night to begin. With all the snacks on the coffee table, and the both of you drowning in blankets it was already off to a good start. Leon, however, thought that he could make it better. Grabbing you by your side, he pulls you down with him as he lays on the couch.

Finally, the moment he was really waiting for. Without protest, you go along with him and rest your head on his chest, one of his hands caressing your hair as the two of you watched the movie. For the first time in a while, he felt safe. He didn’t know what he did to have you as his significant other. Someone so patient and understanding to his past and his present. Living a life filled with crime and suffering, at one point he didn’t believe people like you existed. And yet, there you were in his arms. His heart fluttered at the sight of you, smiling serenely to yourself while you watched the tv. His heart began beating faster,

“Babe?” He asks softly, making you look up at him.

“Mhm?”

“I love you” your eyes widened by his words. For it was the first time he had ever said those words to you. You’ve wanted to hear him utter those words for so long, almost finding the courage to say them first. But when you were on the verge of confession, you looked into his steel-like blue eyes and immediately stammered to change the subject. You even questioned if this relationship was more serious to you than it was to him.

But now here he was, telling you he loved you. You couldn’t help but beam at those three words, as you propped yourself up on his chest by your elbows,

“You love me?” A bubbly giggle escapes you as you ask this question. Leon sits himself up, his hands tugging you closer by your waist, seating you on his lap, as he looks at you sincerely. Leaning closer you whisper against his lips, “Say it again”

“I love you” the words vibrate against your lips as he captures them with his own. They brushed and pressed softly yet meaningfully. With your arms around his neck you pull away, resting your forehead against his,

“I love you too” you felt his chest fall as he let out a breath through his nose in relief before he leaned in once more, kissing you harder. Sucking the breath out of you, while your teeth clacked against his and his nose smushed against your own. Your arms around his neck pull him closer in the midst of the crashing of your lips and gasps for air in between. He had never felt more alive than he did at this moment. His hands trailed to your hips and gripped them tightly as he began nibbling at your wet bottom lip. Your hands reached his face, your thumbs caressing his cheekbones, once the kiss trailed to pecks that resorted to no end. It took everything within him to stop kissing you. Every single kiss made him feel as if he was brought back to life again. But for your sake, he pulled away so you could catch your breath, admiring the sight of your swollen lips and your dreamy gaze at him. The corners of your mouth lift as your breaths slow to their original pace,

“Why’d you stop?” You ask breathlessly. The sentence alone shot an arrow through his heart.

“Didn’t want to overwhelm you, sweetheart” he responds, letting his hands trail from your hair to your back. With an almost offended look you poke his chest with your index finger,

“Overwhelm me? No no, finish what you started” you lightly tease, a flustered giggle to follow when you noticed a certain glint in his eyes,

“Oh I will” in one swift movement he stands up and throws you over his shoulder, making you squeal with laughter as you squirmed,

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“You’re going to eat your words, pretty girl” he retorts sarcastically, firmly holding you over his shoulder with a smug grin while walking to your bedroom.

[mvltisstuff]

Eddie Diaz x female reader

Eddie and reader are childhood sweethearts and have been engaged for 4 years with their wedding is in a few months, reader is also a firefighter with the 118 & also maddie’s best friend. Reader is also close friends with Ravi and Buck. Reader is walking home one night alone after collecting food for Chris and Eddie when she gets mugged and attacked and left for dead in an alleyway, she has multiple injuries such as a gunshot or stab wound, dislocated shoulder, dislocated knee, broken arm along with cuts and bruises to her face. Someone finds her and she ends up in the hospital in a coma, eddie has a breakdown in the hospital and Chris also visits reader crying. Reader wakes up and panics about the wedding as she needs physical therapy on her knee that was injured, worried that she won’t be able to walk down the isle to Eddie, she has a panic attack and everything goes wrong. Maddie tries to help her through it. You can decide on the rest. 🩶🩶

sorry this is so long😅🥲

hope you’re doing well and having a great summer ❤️‍🩹🤍 xx

let the light in - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: this request is from quite some time ago, but it’s been in the drafts for too long! i apologize and hope you enjoy <3 also this is not proofread btw 😭

each hit to her body ricocheted through her muscles, feeling the marks and scars form on her skin. it was a foreign feeling, one of fear and pain. y/n was helpless on the ground of the alley, and there was nothing she could do.

her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she was horrified that she might not even look the same, let alone be the same. she faces things like this every single day, saving someone’s life but she could barely manage to save her own.

she only wanted to bring home food for chris and eddie, her beloved ones who instantly became her family. she was almost like a mother to christopher, and he was connected to her as she was always there for him.

the moment eddie proposed to y/n, he knew that there would be no hesitation. he had never felt this way about a woman before, let alone want to live with her until their hair turned grey. every single part of y/n left eddie enamored, just falling for her all over again. her persistence and attitude was nothing but precious to him, and he couldn’t help but love every part of her.

he waited for her to come home, knowing that she would be stopping at the grocery store. it was late, the sky dark and the streets only illuminated by the street lamps. he knows how tough she is, and she’d be ok. so, he patiently waited at home with his son, the worries in the far back of his head.

as y/n’s body was dragged about and penetrated with sharpness, all she could think about was her fiancé and stepson at home. the two people she loves most in this world. it was so hard not to give up and let these criminals take her life, but she knew neither of them could deal with her life being stripped away.

let alone the 118. bucks been her best friend since day one, being the first supporter of her and eddie’s relationship. he completely adores her and her humor, along with her strong work ethic. ravi has always looked up to her from the moment he stepped into the station on his first day. she assisted him and taught him with kindness, but didn’t go easy on him. she’s the reason that ravi is the firefighter he is, and he idolizes her for that, in and out of work. hen and chimney have been alongside her, running into each building and saving a civilian. she was almost too good to be true, and the people who attacked her had no idea.

the men heard the crumbling of rocks underneath tires, and scurried away into the midnight. y/n was left there to rot, laying on the hard ground and feeling herself bleed out. her entire body was in agony, but it was nothing compared to the thought of losing herself.

her weak fingers traveled to her pockets, taking out her phone with a shattered screen. surprisingly, the group wasn’t smart enough to steal it, and she thanked god for it. her blurry vision was tempting her, minutes away from fading into complete darkness. her mind was shrouded with negativity, but a flicker of hope came in when she heard maddies voice on the other side of the phone.

“maddie.” y/n groans, practically inaudible. maddie freezes at the letters of her name leave this woman’s mouth, being strictly confused but also horrified. “y/n.”

the slightly collection of blood in her mouth made the words jumble together, maddie using every ounce of brain power to put the pieces together.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t-“ the light goes off in maddies brain, finally being able to put the letters together, forming y/n’s name. “y/n?” she hears a painful groan of agreement from the muffled earpiece. “can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“they tried to kill me,” y/n informs her, slowing her breathing but it only makes her head spin faster. her eyes are closed, fighting the unconsciousness that’s begging to take over. “maddie, i’m not gonna be able to stay awake, but… i-i’m somewhere near the interchange.”

“y/n, honey, you have to try and stay awake for me, okay?” maddie begs, her eyes filling with moisture as she hears y/n’s small voice come through the phone in stutters. “y/n?” the phone lands over her torso, beginning to be stained with blood as y/n’s mind is shrouded in black, unable to process anything any longer.

eddie sat in the living room with christopher, watching a show for chris to practice his spanish. they were both invested in the plot, but also trying to expose christopher to the language.

eddie adored nights like this with his son. christopher is his sun, and his world revolves around him. he protects christopher with every ounce of his being, and there’s not a moment where he regrets any of it. the room was dimmed, the wick of the candle radiating a sweet smell as the words on the tv came through.

there was excitement in his mind as well, knowing y/n would be home soon to greet them. her alluring smile would be seen the moment she stepped in the door, and her bewitching voice became music to the boys. instead, when he heard others car doors slam, he was confronted with silence from his front door afterwards.

the next 15 minutes passed slowly but surely, and there were no signs of y/n coming home. he checked his phone only to find no messages or calls. his thoughts began to run through everything that could’ve happened, and he attempted to focus on the brighter ones. he finally heard the knock on the door, the pounding coming off assertive. somehow, he still wanted to find optimism and it could’ve been y/n.

when the door swung open, a burly man who was slightly taller than eddie stood in front of him. he had on a jacket with the LAPD, and eddie’s heart fell at the look on his face. it was blank on the outside, but eddie could tell he was here to deliver something horrid. he listened as the officer deeply uttered his first and last name, christopher lifting his head to the door at the unfamiliar voice.

in this line of work, eddie knew exactly why the man was here. “where is she?” eddie’s voice crackles, showing weakness when he’s so used to being strong.

the ride to the hospital was silent, deafening silence that only turned up the volume on eddie’s fears. the chugged through his head like a train on tracks, and he could barely see straight. he had absolutely no idea what to expect, only knowing that his girl was in the hospital. for all he could know, she could be wide awake or she could be in the morgue.

it felt like someone had grasped his heart, restricting him from breathing as he saw the almost empty waiting room. he desperately looked for anyone, finally landing his eyes on maddie.

“maddie!” he shouts, stomping over to her in anxiety. “what the hell happened?”

“i got a call,” maddie told him, her voice shaky and uncertain. “i could barely even tell who it was -her voice was so different- she told me that they tried to… they tried to kill her.” maddie mumbles the last part out, not wanting to imagine her closest friend’s life being taken.

the room started becoming blurry, all sights and sounds around eddie becoming irrelevant. it felt like he was the only person in the room, and someone from above was pointing and laughing at him. it was like a gunshot, being thrown back at the sudden force, or in this case, the sudden news that someone had attempted murder on y/n.

“i called buck, he’s on his way,” maddie says, fidgeting with her hands as she looks into eddie’s distant eyes. “eddie, sit down-“

“what room is she in?”

“i don’t know if you want to see her like this so fa-“

“maddie, i love you like a sister, but if you don’t tell me what room she’s in, i swear…”

“she’s in 319,” and that was the last thing eddie heard before taking wide steps through the hallways, his feet swiftly carrying him through the hospital as he eyes the door numbers. 316, 317, 318, and the one that held y/n inside. he prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could compare to actually seeing it.

each cut on her face was surrounded by a thick bruise disguising her angelic features. her soft, welcoming expression was replaced with discomfort and tightness. her eyes were tired and screwed shut, begging to remain closed and her lips were tightly coiled around the thick tube down her throat. the mechanical breaths pumped through her body, and eddie only hurt himself more with every step he took to her room.

she heard the thumping of footsteps down the hall, and prayed that it was eddie on his way to save her. she wanted him to just pick her up and they could run away, live their life and forget about all that happened that evening. she wanted to smile, but the look on his face was only disappointing.

his face looked as if someone had landed a punch to his gut, leaving his stomach dropping and shakiness building through his hands. he could barely figure out the words to say. his beautiful girl, the one he lays with at night and the one who kisses him with her soft lips. the one who he cries to and laughs with, and someone tried to steal it.

she had a long, white cast over her leg, being slightly elevated in the bed. he could see the bandages all over her body, and the thick wrap of gauze around her belly. he didn’t have any idea what to say, and it brought eddie back to the former years.

before he and y/n dated, shannon had passed away as eddie watched the life leave her eyes. he felt everything, the guilt, the grief, the anger. it took too long for things to return, but he never, ever wanted to experience that again. he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t manage to push through losing y/n.

y/n wanted to move so bad, she used all fibers of her muscles to try and bring herself up to meet eddie, but she was only met with his frozen figure staring down at her own. someone had put chains on her body, restricting her from moving or speaking, let alone open her eyes. she wanted to be caught while she was falling, but was just left dangling in the air without a hand to grab onto. just by the aura eddie reflects, she knew he was there.

he stepped closer, running his smooth fingers down her rough wounds, brushing her silky hair down. the hissing of her intubation flooded the silent room, realizing that it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

the door had remained open, the doctor entering the room and knocking on the open door. he stepped out and stood in front of the bed, carrying binders and charts in his arms. he looked through them, explaining each familiar term to eddie as he went down the list of y/n’s injuries. the doctor knew eddie well, him returning to the hospital to drop off a patient, or god forbid a patient himself. he let eddie sit alone next to her in the room, watching the very small movements of her chest.

the next person came rushing in, much faster than the doctor had. buck swung the door open, maddie trailing behind him in hesitation to see her friend like this.

“jesus,” buck whispers under his breath, stepping closer to eddie who’s elbows kneel on his knees. “you holding up?”

“i’m fine,” eddie tells his friend, fully aware he’s far from it. his eyes wander down to the ring in maddies hand, the one eddie remembers shining in the little box. it’s been years, but with their schedules, they could never find a date. they found their perfect venue and time, and y/n was so excited. now, it was questioned whether or not she would even make it to their wedding.

“i’ll call her family and take care of stuff for her and work,” buck assists, patting eddie’s shoulder before moving back out of the room with his cell phone. maddie takes this opportunity to step closer to eddie, and try to touch his heart to help ease the pain.

“you need to eat, or walk for a bit, eddie.” maddie tells him, lightly throwing her arms up and receiving zero glances from him. when she notices the distance in his eyes, she knows exactly what he needs. “eddie!”

he perks up, looking into maddies soothing eyes and seeing her begin to walk toward the door. “she’ll be ok for a minute, please just come with me.” she pleads, finally achieving to get eddie out of the uncomfortable hospital chair.

eddie follows maddie through the halls like he’s just a kid, letting his mother lead him through. it was a strange feeling, one that was out of his control. the control that he’s so used to having. maddie sauntered casually through the thick white walls and metal stretchers in the halls. she looked up and down the stretch of area, seeing no nurses or doctors. she swung open the storage closet, yanking eddie in and standing in front of the door. she leaned against it, looking into eddie’s exhausted eyes. they were so close to breaking, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“it’s ok to let yourself take a break.” maddie says to eddie, watching him place his hands on his hips and allow his tired eyes to well up. “do whatever you have to. scream, cry, lay on the ground, throw those lap pads. it’s clear as day that you’re about to fall apart and you can’t carry this weight and be there for her at the same time.”

he spun around, spitting out a dry chuckle and losing the eye contact. he couldn’t face it, he couldn’t handle someone watching him look so weak. however, when maddie turned around, he knew that she was safe, and that he was too.

first, his breathing starts to pick up along with the sharp burning in his nostrils. it was as if the gears of an attack started turning, and eddie knew now that there was nothing to stop them.

his hands began to shake, messily frizzing his gelled hair as his fingers ran through it. his already tightened chest had began to feel like it was being crushed, and someone was wrapping their strong fingers around his heart.

the tears started coming in constant streams down his cheeks, leaving shiny residue on the soft skin. he tasted the salty cries on his lips whenever he took a deep inhale. with a strange sensation, there’s a feeling of lightness throughout his body. he knows too well that y/n remains helpless in the other room, but he also knows that he can’t control it.

in such a simply way, eddie cries. he cries for his son, who he knows is going to be completely shredded by the news of y/n’s condition. he cries for her parents, thinking about someone’s little girl in that bed. he cries for himself, watching his beloved fiancé lose herself. of course, he cries for y/n and how everything she loves has vanished due to the villains in this world.

when maddie turns back around, eddie is hunched over with his head in his hands. his fingers aggressively swipe at his eyes and cheeks, trying to rid any signs of upset in his face. maddie gives him the smallest, but the most reassuring smile that he’s gotten in a while. she opens the door, stepping out and they both walk back to y/n’s room.

eddie didn’t want christopher to see y/n so vulnerable like this. y/n had been a role model to chris since the day he met her, becoming an instant prized person in his life. christopher knew y/n was hurt, buck being the one to break the news as eddie physically couldn’t form the words. a few days had passed, and christopher still had not seen y/n, or barely even known what happened. someone did something bad, and that’s the only thing he could handle hearing.

christopher begged to see y/n to his dad, who tried to hide the situation from him as long as possible. he allowed eventually, becoming aware of the unfairness, and that christopher deserves to see favorite person, too.

buck walked into the doors with christopher, eddie meeting them at the front. eddie had become more accustomed to the sight of y/n on the bed, and her limp figure resting silently. he couldn’t help but let out a cheesy grin at his son, seeing him excitedly walk in to see y/n.

“dad!” he shouts, stepping closer to eddie who then embraces him.

“hey, chris!” he replies, thrilled to see his boy after the past few days from hell.

“is y/n better yet?” he asks, and the naivety almost breaks eddie.

“uh, not yet, buddy,” eddie mumbles. “she’s still sleeping.”

“can i please see her?”

“you can, of course, but christopher,” eddie kneels down to match his height, placing his hands on christopher’s sides. “i want you to know that she doesn’t look normal right now. it’s okay to be scared.”

“are you scared?”

eddie looks at the ground, not wanting his son to see him in his moment of weakness. he looks at buck, who wears the matching expression of glumness on his face. “yeah, i am. but, it’s going to be ok.” he takes christopher to the room, greeting everyone else who came to visit her.

hen leans against the wall of the room, toward the end of her bed. chim sits against the window, a grimace formed on his lips. ravi had come to visit, only being able to watch y/n on the small mattress. bobby watched, painfully, from the corner as well. athena had stopped by, but she was still on duty and had to leave.

christopher walked in, stepping up toward the bed and seeing a smile form on everyone’s face. they adore him, but he doesn’t understand how they can smile right now. “can she hear me?”

“i think she can,” hen replies, giving another grieving, but comforting expression

“y/n,” he begins. “i know you’re really hurt, but we all need you to come back. it’s not your fault, but you have to come back to us, and dad. everyone is here for you, and we all love you. you’ve always taken care of me, and i need you. you can’t let the bad guys win.”

eddie leans against the doorframe, his hand over his mouth and tears sprinting back down his face. he attempts to choke back the audible sobs, but the silent weeping in the corner almost felt worse.

the days passed, slow and agonizing days of seeing her only linear condition. it felt like nothing was going anywhere, until the doctors came in to check her on the week mark.

“her brain function is looking pretty good, it’s honestly best that the coma saved some of it. her heart rate looks extraordinary, and her white blood cell count is good, mr. diaz.”

the good news comes light as a feather to eddie, barely touching the optimism in his head. he knows he should be happy, but until he sees that beautiful face that he calls his awake and alert, nothing will be the same. he knew he should be grateful that she’s even breathing, but what he would give to be able to bring her back to the surface and hold his hand.

as much as it stung his heart, life continued without y/n’s consciousness. he had a child who had needs, a family who had needs, the person inside of him that also had needs. he was too smart to know that he was destroying himself every minute that he spent next to her brittle body. maddie swore to spend every second with her that eddie couldn’t be.

she sat besides her, spoke to her, told her stories and read her books. maddie always let y/n cry on her shoulder, now it was maddie weeping on her bedside. hours ticked by on the shiny hospital clocks, and the sun crept down and dimmed the sky along with the room. maddies eyes were pushed with weight, her own sleepiness covering her thoughts. she allowed herself to slump back on the chair, pulling her legs up and her breathing began to shallow, lulling herself to sleep.

the next time she awoke was around six in the morning, the morning sky slowly being illuminated by the orange sunrise. the light outside was glorious, the painting on the horizon better than any artist could create. the swift streaks of clouds only simply covered the sliver of sun peeking out.

when maddie stretched out her arms, she smiled at the warm colors outside the big glass window, she searched around the room, noticing the soft sound of fabric shuffling on the bed.

it was almost like a ghost had appeared and laid in the bed, moving itself around over the sheets. maddie directed her eyes closer, seeing y/n’s fragile fingers twitch and run over the smooth bed.

“y/n?” maddie asks, her voice still weak from her slumber. she begins to sit up, faster than before, to examine y/n’s face. there’s a brighter color to her features, her cheeks became more pigmented and she looked more full. she didn’t just look like another body in the hospital, waiting for her heart to give up on itself.

the more words that left maddie’s mouth, the more flickering she saw on y/n’s face. her heart was pounding against her chest, feeling the anxiety rise through her spine. “hey, y/n.” she whispers, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand. after a few moments that felt like centuries, y/n’s eyelashes fluttered a bit, and her red, tired irises were finally revealed again.

eddie was laying on the couch, unable to sleep in the bed that once held the couple together. it felt eerily cold without her, his hand subconsciously floating over to run a hand over her back, only to be confronted with the chilly satin. he never wanted to leave y/n, but he also know that she would never want him to fall apart in the hospital watching her. he so badly wanted his eyes to finally shut, being able to give him even an hour of rest. someone had their fingers holding open his eyes, painting horrible images in his mind.

he turned on his back, his arm behind his head and staring into the bumpy, popcorn ceilings of his home. the home he shares with his son and his fiancée, the two people he cherishes the most. now, it was filled with darkness and loss and he prayed that he could get it back.

something grabbed ahold of his mind, halting his thoughts with the blaring noise of his ringtone. when he saw the ID of maddie illuminate his phone, he thought of the worst. either y/n was dead, and he never gets to see her again, or nothing has changed, and there is only more of an agonizing wait.

“eddie, you should get here,” was all he needed to hear over the phone before he roused christopher, dropping him off to get more rest at his tías, and eddie continued to speed over to the hospital.

the tube was gone. it was replaced with a skinnier cord, only pushing air into her through her lungs. her face, still bruised and scraped, but so alive. her eyes shined through the room, meeting eddie’s with a slight upturn of her lip. she was laying on her side with her hand under her cheek. the dark bags under her eyes were clear, but practically matching with eddie’s.

the moment he walked into that room and saw her, his rapid heartbeat began to slow, leaving a dropping sensation in his chest. he scurried over, not being able to stop himself from placing a long kiss on her lips, the ones that had just almost been taken from him.

“i am so, so sorry, mi vida, i wish i were here when you woke up,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

“but you’re here now,” she rasps out, trying to lose the discomfort in her voice. “you’ve been here the whole time for me.”

“don’t ever leave me like that again,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against her own, letting her wired hand be placed on his cheek.

“i wasn’t scared of them,” y/n tells him. “i was scared that they’d take you away from me. i don’t ever want to leave you in the dust like i did last night.”

“last week, honey,” eddie grins with a bit of pity on his voice.

“oh, yeah,” she chuckles a bit, but afterwards grimacing at the pain in her abdomen.

“you should go to sleep, get some real rest this time.”

“i just slept for like, 160 hours, eddie.”

“i know, baby, but you still need to let yourself heal.” she smiles up at him, silently thanking him for his gentleness and tranquility. she nods, as he steps out to see the doctor. maddie returns back in, clutching her purse by her side and smiling her gorgeous maddie beam.

“hi again,” y/n smiles, seeing her best friend walk into the room once more.

maddie carefully walks in, placing her bag down and hugging y/n’s laying figure. “how are you feeling?”

“physically, a bit better,” y/n says.

“but what about the y/n i love. how is she doing in there?”

y/n pauses, all the thoughts rushing back through her head. every sentence screams through her ears, wanting to push itself to the front of her mind. every worry, every fear comes clean to the surface.

“maddie, i don’t know what to do,” her eyes begin to water, and her voice starts to tremble along with her hands. “we’ve been trying to plan this wedding for so long, and those men just took it all away from me. how am i supposed to just move on from that? i’m never going to be able to be the same after that. and eddie,” she sighs, pushing a long exhale out through her mouth. “i feel like i completely destroyed him with this. and now, i have to go to PT and i can’t even walk down the isle by myself! one of these days he’s gonna realize that i’m not worth anything anymore. i’m horrified that every day he has to take care of me, is just one part of him that doesn’t want me anymore.”

her breathing picks up, maddie trying to ease her but ultimately not being able to with just a simple touch. she looks at eddie, still focused on the doctor.

“listen, y/n/n,” maddie begins. “that gang took so much from you, but you have so many people on your side. they lost, you won. and with eddie, he would bleed himself dry if it meant you came home with him. every single breath you take is worth a million dollars to him. you are the most, fighter bitch i’ve ever met, and if anyone’s going to bounce back from this, it’s you. the moment you two kiss on that one night, all this worrying will be for nothing. he is your soldier, and he’ll never leave you. he would fight the gods if it meant he could keep you next to him every night.”

the tears fall onto her pillowcase, leaving several dark patches besides her face. eddie turns back around, letting himself back into to room only to see the upset written all over y/n’s face.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, the sweetness in the delivery of his words. maddie looks up at him, her eyebrows tilting up together in a sadness for her friend. sharp inhales and gasps come through y/n’s body, using her shaking hand to wipe the wet tears from her cheeks. “you’re ok, baby, i got you.” he tells her, sitting besides her on the bed and caressing her side. maddie kisses her cheek, stepping out of the room to leave the engaged pair alone.

“i never want to be away from you again,” she sobs. “promise me you’ll never leave me, and i promise i’ll always love you.”

“i’ll make this promise to you until the day we grow grey hair, or the day you don’t remember me anymore. i’ll promise you this every single day. i mean it when i say i love you more than anything.”