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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

No i In Team

Summary: Having been dumped, you find yourself standing in the mud and rain as a bootcamp instructor yells at you. Finally you snap, telling him your mind before storming off. Later when he appears at your room to see if you are ok, he makes sure you are fully over your ex, proving that some men are a lot better than others.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or body type mentioned) Fandom; Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Rough sex, vaginal sex, doggy style, cowgirl, inappropriate use of a mini sombrero.

I do not operate a tag list, however please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You will then get an alert every time i post something.

My masterlist got too large for tumblr, so now you can check out my AO3 on THIS LINK to find my previous stories.

No I In Team

This was it. This was the worst decision you had ever made. In fact, the worst collection of the worst decisions. Ever. In the history of decision making.

The rain continued to pour. Any sane person would not be standing in the middle of an assault course in this weather. They certainly wouldn’t be joining in on a ‘team building get-away’ when you had in fact already quit the company and it just finished your notice period. And they really wouldn’t have come when their ex was parading his new girlfriend around and they were on the same team as you.

Okay, so the last bit wasn’t in your control; your ex had in fact dumped you - via text - whilst you were in the cab there. Which honestly was a bit of a surprise seeing as you were meant to be sharing a room, and you had splashed out on one of the luxury rooms in the hotel where the corporate events were held at. He was a little surprised - which proved how much of a dumbass he really was - when you refused to let him and his new girlfriend take your room, and you stay in the smaller and cheaper one she had paid for. It was simple, you had paid, they could fuck off.

The other girlfriend, now that was a surprise. You didn’t want to hate her, she seemed very sweet but there were definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic going on with her. Your weasel of an ex had cited a number of reasons for the break up, all laying blame on you, but really you had known it was coming and were quite relieved in a way… he was now someone else's problem.

However, because of being blindsided by the break up, you had continued on autopilot and now found yourself soaked to your skin, and the enormous brute that ran the bootcamp was doing his best to yell at every single person to ‘encourage’ them. Jesus christ you weren’t built for climbing up ropes and flinging yourself over 10ft walls, and with each passing obstacle you were falling further and further behind.

“COME ON! GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER THAT ROPE NET!”

Rolling your eyes you let out a huff and slid-ran through the three inch deep mud, starting to climb the net that led up to a rope ladder you were expected to climb across as it was suspended over a pool of muddy water. You looked into the distance, your ‘team mates’ having well and truly left you behind, and as you reached the bottom of the net you looked up at it, taking in how muddy and slippery it was where 11 other people had already climbed up it;

“ARE YOU AFRAID OF A NET? PULL YOURSELF UP AND STOP FUCKING AROUND IN THE MUD”

The ‘Captain’ yelled at you from six feet away. Jesus you were fed up with him. The guy looked like he lived, breathed, and slept military. At the start of the course he had introduced himself as Captain Syverson, but everyone was to refer to him as Captain. His fatigues and t-shirt were plastered to his skin, his beard soggy as puffs of steam came from his mouth as he continued to yell at you.

You turned to him, watching as he took a single stride and was just a foot from you, taking a deep breath to yell again before you pushed your hand up and pressed a single finger to his mouth;

“No”

He stopped, unable to hide his surprise as his eyebrows shot up before you pulled your finger away.

“Get your ass up that net, NOW!”

Crossing your arms you repeated yourself;

“No. I will not”

“THERE IS NO I IN TEAM!”

“No. There isn’t. But there is an i in Vibrator”

“W-what?”

“Vibrator. Dildo too. And i quit”

“You can’t quit”

“Unless you are going to throw me over your shoulder and carry me across that net and ladder, i quit. I am going to go back to my expensive hotel room, stopping at the bar to buy a bottle of the hardest liquor they have, have a hot bath, and give myself something a man has never been able to”

“What’s that?”

“An orgasm”

You turned on your heel and started towards the hotel building in the distance, leaving the Captain speechless in the rain. When you were halfway across the lawns you could hear him yelling at the rest of the team, but you couldn’t give a fuck, you’d had enough.

The bath was amazing. You’d spent a good hour if not two in it letting the spa jets send streams of bubbles over your body, and had in fact given yourself the first of many orgasms you had planned for your evening. You had been disappointed when you’d discovered that the bar wouldn’t sell bottles of alcohol, but the bartender had quietly told you that if you ordered the corporate entertainment tray over room service they were obliged to send up a selection of miniatures with mixers and nibbles.

You were still standing in your towel when you heard a knock at the door, puzzled to be interrupted as you had the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the handle. Approaching the peephole you looked through, surprised to see who was on the other side. Opening the door a few inches you looked out, and saw him leaning casually against the doorframe, now wearing dry clothes that accentuated how he was 101% muscle, from the kingfisher blue sweater that made his eyes even brighter, to the dark denim that clung to his muscled thighs, a smirk played across his face when he saw what you were wearing;

“Hi”

“Captain?”

He shifted and held out a bottle of Tequila;

“The bar doesn’t sell liquor by the bottle”

He motioned for you to take it, and as you did so you swung the door open a little more, seeing him look you up and down, his eyes growing a little darker as he licked his lips;

“I thought about what you said…”

“Which part”

“About what words the letter i are in” you didn’t realise but he had shifted a little closer, his toes now over the threshold of the room; “Cos’ i thought of another word that has the letter i in”

You cocked your head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, already gauging the reason his thickly muscled man was at your hotel room door with a smile and alcohol;

“Dick has got an i in”

“You’re absolutely right” you pulled the cork from the bottle of Tequila, taking a sip and grinning at the captain as you fiddled with the little hat that hung from the neck of the bottle, taking a step back as he slowly crept further into the room. A flash of lightning from the bad weather outside illuminated the room, and yet the air between your bodies almost sparked from the energy you were giving off.

“But my favourite letter is U”

“Ok… i’m waiting for the punchline…”

“Because that’s in the word Tongue, and i would very much like my tongue to be in u”

Closing the gap between you, you pressed two fingertips to his chest, the soft blue sweater he now wore warm to the touch;

“That…” you paused, walking your fingers up his chest with each word: “Was the best pick up line i’ve ever heard, Captain”

Pushing the door shut behind him, his slid his hand into the split of your towel, his warm palm resting on your hip before pulling you flush with his chest;

“You can call me Sy”

He had lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, the towel trapped between your bodies but now unraveled as it dragged along the floor, your naked back and ass cooling in the air of the room, but soon warmed by two large hands as they roamed over your skin. His kiss was rough, his tongue licking into your mouth as his beard tickled your face.

You hadn’t even realised he’d gotten to the bed until he had pulled away and sat down, pulling you down with him so you were straddling his waist;

“Ride my face, let me give you what you need” he growled, his hands on your ass pushing you up his body.

You’d quickly scrambled to set the bottle onto the nightstand before straddling his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as his massive hands cupped your ass. He pulled you down until you were literally seated on his face, his thick beard brushing against your thighs and ass, his tongue burying itself between your slick folds, teasing you open.

Winding one hand through his short brown hair, the soft chocolate curls caressed your fingers as your other hand rested against the headboard of the bed to steady yourself, his eagerness already rapidly pushing you towards an orgasm, your body still buzzing from the one you’d given yourself in the bath.

“Oh fuck… Sy, Jesus Christ your tongue…”

You’d never met a man with a tongue so wide and juicy, the thick muscle pulsing within your cunt as his nose teased your clit, and soon you were shaking above him, attempting to push up on your legs from the intensity of it, only for his strong grip to tighten on your ass and pull you back down onto his face.

“Ride my tongue Darlin’” you heard his muffled voice, and as you looked down you saw his face was flushed but his eyes held nothing but mischief.

Tossing your head back you let yourself go, calling out his name as you unashamedly rode his tongue to an intense orgasm, flooding his face with your juices.

Limp and pliable, you felt him lifting you before setting you down on the bed, his lips finding your neck and shoulders as he pressed kisses to your skin. The storm raged outside the window, rain lashing against the glass and making you feel even more enclosed in as Sy’s body covered your own. Finally enough of your senses returned that you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a fierce kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. When he finally broke away from your lips he started to kiss down your body, only for you to tug at his soft blue sweater, wanting the knitwear gone;

“Okay ok Darlin’...”

“Want to see you… feel you…” you were lust drunk now, a fire in the pit of your belly where you wanted nothing more than this beast of a man to split you open and fuck you raw.

He let out a low belly laugh, pushing off you and standing, a grin on his face as he saw you watching him as he stripped for you.

With his sweater tossed aside, he toed his boots off as his hands made quick work of his jeans, revealing a pair of tight black boxer briefs that were obscenely bulging at the front. Clenching your thighs together did little to satisfy the arousal, and as he tucked his thumbs under the elastic of his underwear you bit your lip as he teased you, pulling the elastic down to reveal the thick bush of hair and a tantalizing peek at the thick root of his shaft. Inch by inch he lowered his underwear until they dropped to the floor, and your mouth was agape as you took his size in all his glory;

“Wow, you really do have the equipment for the BDE you give off...” He paused and looked at you, cocking an eyebrow as you started to explain; “It means big…”

“I know what it means” he smirked, hooking his finger at you and watching as you crawled over the bed until your face was level with his rapidly hardening dick; “Why don’t you show me how good that mouth of yours is?”

Wrapping your hands around his hot flesh you could feel him growing harder and thicker under your touch, leaning your head forwards until you could take him into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue as he grunted above you;

“That’s it Darlin’, get me nice and wet, gonna have this buried in you sooner or later, the harder you get me the more dick you get inside you”

He rested his hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take him deeper but without being pushy about it. When his tip nudged at the back of your throat you fought back the feeling, looking up with watery eyes as his own bored into your soul as his dick tried to do the same to the back of your skull.

Holding you deep he finally with a gasp pulled himself out of your mouth with a string of curses, stroking your hair as you coughed and sucked in precious oxygen;

“Fuck, that mouth of yours is a thing of wonder Darlin’... but i want to get into that sweet cunt of yours… how do you need it?”

“N-need it?”

He gently pushed you onto your back, crawling over you until he was poised and ready to go;

“Yeah, need it. You’ve just broken up with some limp dick, how do you need me to fuck you?”

“W-what are the options?”

“You want slow and gentle, or you want me to fuck you like a beast and toss you around like a rag-doll”

“Beast mode please”

With a low growl he grinned as he surged forward and caught your lips with his own, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as he took complete control. You felt him gripping his dick as he swiped it through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your wetness before he pulled away and grasped you by the hips as he knelt on the bed, pulling you up his thighs before thrusting his fat girth into you with one swift movement.

“HOLY FUCK!”

“That’s it Darlin, take my dick all the way. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget about anyone else that has ever disappointed you”

Gritting his teeth he moved your body like you were a rag-doll, pulling you onto his hardness as you could do little but to go limp and let your mind get flooded by the pleasure he was giving your body thanks to the best sex you’d ever had. Gripping at the sheets you felt an orgasm start to building within you;

“Sy… keep doing that… i’m gonna cum…”

With a smile and a grunt he did exactly as you asked, keeping his pace fast and steady as you lost control around him, your back arching as your legs shook and you came hard. You were trembling from the force of the aftershocks as he slowed down and finally stilled, letting you relax onto the duvet as he covered your body with his, pressing openmouthed kisses to your chest, murmuring against the soft flesh;

“These titties are spectacular”

He moved a little and you felt that he was still hard, a smirk back on his face;

“Oh i’m not done yet Darlin’, that was just an intermission”

He pulled out of you and you found yourself being flipped over, your ass pulled up as he filled you from behind this time, his thickness splitting your walls open and his massive hands found their way to your breasts, pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers as he pile drove into you from behind;

“Feel so fucking good Darlin, love the way your cunt feels around my dick, wanna feel you cum again before i shoot my load in ya’, then you can have a breather before round two”

Your eyes went wide; this was still only round one? Fuck, Sy was an utter beast and as he tilted his hips and his dick hit just the right spot, your eyes rolled back in their sockets and your jaw hung open, the pleasure running through your veins turning your brain to jelly and all you could comprehend was Sy fucking the living daylights out of you.

Starting to tremble, your sighs became squeaks which became screams of his name as you started to cum and it kept going, your body squeezing him tighter than a vice before he finally came with a beastly roar, shooting ropes of his creamy seed and coating velvet walls.

The pair of you slumped down onto the bed, your bodies still joined as he pressed kisses to the back of your neck. Finally he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of his warmth and weight on top of you, instinctively rolling and curling up against his side as you rested your head on his chest, the song of his heartbeat strong and steady beneath your ear;

“Fuck… that was amazing”

He gently stroked one hand over your back;

“You can say that again Darlin’. Your pussy is like heaven… never had a cunt grip me so tight and be able to take me balls deep before...”

You smiled and let your eyes rest for a moment, before you felt him shift and the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle disturbed your post orgasmic bliss. Looking up you saw him oof the cork out of his mouth before bringing the bottle of tequila to his lips and taking a large mouthful. Holding the bottle to you he grinned as you sat up and took it, following suit and still wincing at the burn as the expensive liquid slid down your throat.

Just at that moment there was a massive crack of thunder outside and an immediate flash of light, before the electricity fizzled out, plunging you into darkness. You weren’t afraid of the dark but the suddenness of it made you squeal, Sy pulling you close;

“Shhh its ok Darlin’, this place gets its power knocked out all the time cos’ its up on the hill here. That’s why there’s candles in every room”

He deftly slid out of your grasp and you heard him fumbling around on the floor before he illuminated the room with his phone, and you watched as his silhouette made its way across the room and you heard the click of a lighter. Moments later the room had a pale glow from the candles that had sat on the side table, and as he carried one back to bed you saw that he was still hard;

“How are you…”

“Still up? Oh Darlin’ i can go eight or nine rounds before i droop”

“Eight or… nine…”

He flopped down onto the bed beside where you sat, his hands behind his head and a wide smile on his face;

“So, what do ya’ wanna do next?”

You laughed softly before taking another sip of tequila, toying with the little hat that was attached to it before a sudden urge overtook your senses. With a look of amusement on his face Sy watched as you took the hat from the bottle and softly tied it to his dick, the hat standing proud on his tip;

“A perfect fit” he remarked, but before either of you could say anything else a knock at the door interrupted you.

“Babe?” a quiet voice came from the other side of the door; “You in there?”

Your heart sank;

“Its my ex… I’m gonna go tell him to fuck off…”

Sy caught your arm gently, a grin on his face;

“Let me”

What happened next was something you could only have dreamt of, and as you pulled a pillow in front of you to hide your nakedness, Sy basked in his own naked glory as he strode to the door and pulled it open;

“Yes?”

Your ex stood in the hallway outside your room, his bags at his feet;

“What are you…?”

“I’m busy keeping my girl happy. What’re you doing here?”

“I got dumped…”

“Well champ, that sounds like a you problem…”

Without another word Sy stepped back and shut the door, making sure to flip the security lock extra hard so that your ex could hear it from the hallway. Striding back to the bed you couldn’t help but to laugh;

“I can’t believe you answered the door completely naked, hard, and with a mini sombrero on your dick!”

Climbing onto the bed he lay on his back, his hands behind his head as he grinned at you, wriggling his hips so his hard dick swayed to and fro with the hat still attached;

“Oh i think it made the moment all that more memorable Darlin’”

“He’ll certainly remember it, that’s for sure”

You carefully took the little adornment off of Sy, tossing it aside as you straddled his hips and grasped his hot shaft, helping to find your waiting entrance before sinking down onto him.

The feeling of taking him inch by inch was almost overwhelming; thick and gnarled, his fat dick stretched you in every direction, and you were thankful for the added lubrication of his cum already dripping out of you.

As you started to ride him you could feel your body already deceiving you and climbing towards a rapid orgasm, and you found yourself cupping your breasts and twisting your nipples to distract yourself and let it last just a little longer. However when Sy’s massive hands rested on your hips and he started to thrust up into you, it was the beginning of the end. The final straw was when he slid one hand to your front, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing quick circles firmly against the engorged bud did it send you over the edge and you were coming again, back arched and head thrown back as your bodies moved as one in the candlelight.

Sy fucked you until the storm cleared and the candles fizzled out, just the moonlight illuminating your room when you both crawled under the duvet and fell asleep, sweaty bodies cooling in the night, sated from your energetic lovemaking.

Come morning and you were woken up by a series of featherlight kisses to your naked back and shoulders. For the briefest moment panic set in, but then you remembered your bed companion from the night before;

“Mmm Mornin’ Darlin’” he drawled, his voice low and coarse from sleep.

Turning you smiled at him before his lips caught yours for a gentle kiss. What followed was the best oral you’d ever received, followed by a steamy session of shower sex where for the first time in your life you’d felt confident that your partner was strong enough to not let you slip and injure yourself.

The following room service breakfast had been thoroughly enjoyable where the two of you had talked and laughed, swapped numbers and both made it clear you’d like to see the other again. Sy had even driven you back to the train station, where you’d attracted the odd few stares as he’d kissed you with tongues and teeth before giving your ass a squeeze.

Two weeks later.

Sy fiddled with the zippered pocket on his fatigues as he waited nervously outside the meeting room at the corporate offices. After what had seemed like an amazing night with you, he’d arrived at work on Monday to discover one of his boot camp cadets had made a formal complaint about his ‘lewd behaviour’. He knew it wasn’t you, but it had distracted him from the string of text’s you’d shared in the following days. He was thankful that you’d told him not to apologise, having started your new job and that was full on from the word go.

The door to the meeting room opened and his name was called, standing he smoothed his shirt down and nodded before entering the room. This was probably the most nervous he’d been since leaving the army; at least there if you fucked up you got a court marshall, now he was a civilian if he lost his job it meant he couldn’t pay his bills.

You were attempting to get a file out of the huge stack that sat on your desk without knocking your coffee over when your office door opened and a friendly face peered around the corner;

“Hey, you ready for the disciplinary hearing?”

“The what?... Oh, right… let me find the file…”

“Did you read it?”

Shaking your head you grinned at the manager of offsite contractors;

“Don’t worry, i’ve skimmed it. You guys brought me in to sort through this mess my predecessor left behind, I just wasn’t expecting it to be this much of a mess…”

Grabbing your coffee and the file with that day's date on, you followed your colleague through the building, attempting to scan over the complaint, frowning when you saw that the printer been running out of toner and had omitted the two parties names. Nevermind, you could always write those in.

Chewing on your pen as you shut the meeting room door, you quickly took a seat at the end of the table, looking up and only then your eyes going wide. On one side sat your ex, and someone that looked like a low rate lawyer judging by the cheap suit and even cheaper briefcase. On the other side sat Sy - Captain Syverson - whose eyes were as big as saucers and you saw the slightest hint of a smile start to tug at the corner of his mouth before he restored his poker face.

The manager introduced himself and then you;

“This is our new Human Resources manager, she’ll be overseeing this meeting”

Taking one last look at your report you took a sip of your drink before standing, keeping your face neutral;

“So, your client alleges that our employee acted in a lewd manner whilst on a team building exercise two weeks ago?”

“That is right Miss, you see…”

“And that your client wishes to pursue a lawsuit based on ‘emotional distress’ and that our employee caused the breakdown of his relationship”

“Yes Miss, Its like this you see…”

Cutting the lawyer off again, you looked pointedly at your ex;

“So, did you or did you not actually end the relationship with your partner, before even meeting Captain Syverson? Actually there’s no need to answer, i have a transcript of the text messages here…” you looked down at your your file, although you knew the texts by heart; “And i quote “I’ve found someone new, someone prettier than you, she’s better in bed too”

You looked up at your ex who was now sinking down into his chair;

“And by lewd behaviour, did you or did you not approach your ex’s bedroom at the hotel in the middle of the night, and continue to knock on her bedroom door whilst there was a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door?”

The lawyer attempted to talk, but yet again you cut him off;

“So therefore, you had no emotional or romantic relationship with the person whose room it was, and therefore as fully consenting adults, our employee and your ex, were perfectly within their rights to start a romantic relationship, were they not?” you took a deep breath; “And, as you have a history of making civil lawsuits against companies that you have deemed you ‘wrong’, this frivolous attempt at extortion has now been recorded, and will be submitted to the authorities”

You lifted your phone before setting it back down onto the table. You hadn’t been recording, but it was enough for your ex’s lawyer to stand and leave the room quickly, your ex scurrying close behind. Leaning to the manager you cleared your throat;

“You might want to make sure security escorts them completely offsite”

“Absolutely. Can i leave you debrief Syverson?”

“Leave it with me”

You shut the door behind him as he left, and felt the warmth of Sy’s body behind you;

“This is a very unexpected, but oh so pleasant surprise”

Turning in his arms you were thankful that there were no internal windows to this meeting room, kissing him deeply before the giant bear of a man pulled away and smiled softly at you;

“I need to buy you dinner for what you did… you’re fucking badass”

“How did you not know what the meeting was about?”

“They just told me it was ‘lewd behaviour’. I’d been wracking my mind for the last week to figure out what i may have said or done… yeah i yell at people for a living, but i’m never lewd…”

Placing your palm on his cheek you smiled at him;

“Dinner sounds good by the way”

“Come over to my place tonight, i’ll cook you dinner”

“Will there be dessert?”

Sy licked his lips, his gaze travelling down your body and back up again;

“There definitely will be for me… i’m sure i’ve got some cookies you can have too Darlin”

#captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #henry cavill

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kkysolo · 4 years ago

Note

*grovels again* *hopes you have your gin*

i can’t believe i’m posting this highly specific piece that will certainly flop due to its clear self indulgence. please don’t send me to tumblr jail, i already know i need therapy for this lmao. your grovelling paid off, petal. i hope it’s something you marginally enjoy.

[edit: this is now a series. part two / part three / part four ]

A/N: this...is a friends to lovers smut piece laced heavily with daddy-kink that is not at all related to my own upbringing and exposes my clear daddy issues. as always, our reader has no defining traits, other than that she is female.

Pairing: Modern Ben Solo/Reader Word count: 1392 Warnings: daddy kink, age gap (three/fourish-ish years?) PIV sex, unprotected sex. Heavy mentions of childhood and referring to reader as ‘little girl’ (I know that’s a squick for some of you). Mentions of feelings that have travelled from childhood to adulthood (not sure if that’s a squick but there you have it). tagged as tw: and cw: daddy kink for anyone’s filtering desires, but it’s below a cut, anyway.

“H-how l-long?”

Your words trailed off into a moan as Ben curled his fingers, dragging the calloused pads of them along your sensitive walls. He shifted slightly, moving to circle your clit with his thumb, rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves. A tight coil began to wind and wind and wind in your core, and you chased it with abandon, hips bucking into his hands in a deplorable show of desperation.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but first, I want to watch you come for me, right here, on your best friend’s fingers.”

Your eyes fell shut as your head tipped back against the pillows, and Ben reached with his free hand to steer your face toward his.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured. “I want you to see who’s doing this to you. I want to watch every last second of you coming apart.”

You did as you were told, your eyes flying open, your clouded, hooded gaze meeting his.

“Good,” he murmured, increasing his pressure on your clit. “That’s my girl.”

And it was his praise that did it - because it always did, always left you feeling like a wanton mess, even as he’d say it in passing, clueless to its effect. The coil snapped and you choked on your own breath as you felt it, felt yourself gushing onto his fingers, and felt yourself begin to float, landing somewhere between euphoria and heaven itself.

He watched, so absorbed in your bliss, so captivated by how you completely and utterly pulverised in his hands. He couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even begin to thank you for allowing him such a privilege, to be the one obliged with the chance to take you apart, to wreck you. His eyes never left the plains of your face, even as you began to fall back into coherence. You fought to catch your breath, bringing your attention back to him.

“How long?” You asked again, and Ben wasn’t even minutely surprised at your persistence. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth - because he had to, had to taste you, had to know what he’d been missing all those years. He hummed as his tongue slid across your come.

“Always,” he murmured once he’d sated his hunger. “For as long as I can remember.”

His lips found your hairline, pressing softly into the skin there.

“Me too,” you revelled in it, in the tranquility of it, the softness of it. But there was something else, the moment that sparked it, the moment that had spurred you to reach right into the depths of your desires, to dig up the feelings you’d thought you’d long since buried.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

His lips cascaded down your jaw, your neck, teeth grazing across your collar bones.

“At dinner, I said something,” your words quickly caused Ben’s ministrations to cease, his lips stationary on the column of your throat. “And it...it made you...It’s why, it’s why I wanted to kiss you.”

Your mind settled on the moment, the recent memory - how you’d tried in vain to get away with shoving your potatoes to the side of your plate, moving them around with your fork in a feeble attempt at making them look eaten. You should have known, though, that a visit home to your mother’s house would make such a task impossible. And not because of your parents, no. No, because your ever-present childhood neighbour would make sure you ate your food.

You recall how he’d looked at you, the stern gaze, the cocked brow.

“Eat them,” he’d warned.

“Sure thing, dad,” you’d chided, half playfully.

You recall his face, his frame, how his whole body tensed, how his knee came to bang against the underside of the table without warning, sending your cutlery clattering from your plate.

Ben exhaled roughly, the palms of his hands gripping your sides anxiously.

“That word-”

“Don’t, don’t say it, I won’t be able to control myself if you do.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“Princess,” his tone was stern, a warning.

“I saw what it did to you, when I said it, when I called you ‘dad’.”

He inhaled sharply, quickly moving above you. He was so huge, so broad, that his body completely caged you. He hovered there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, trying to collect himself. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head.

“I’m warning you. I won’t be able to control myself,” he let out a shaky, bated breath. “Not if I hear you call me that.”

“I don’t want you to control yourself, I want you,” you breathed, completely entranced by the idea of Ben finally fucking you, of your best friend finally being inside of you. “Daddy.”

And the silence that followed your words, the complete stillness as you watched him - it engulfed you. You watched as his composure crumbled, the cracks in his brick walls creeping up up up until the expanse of his very soul imploded right before your eyes. Ben’s head dropped as he groaned loudly, hips rutting into yours. In one swift movement, he was opening your legs, hiking them up around his waist. He looked at you then, and you knew how far gone he was. His eyes were so blown black you could no longer see the molten honey of his irises. And they were wild, too, just like his breathing, which was just a hair away from hyperventilation. His gaze persists and you knew, then, that this was his hopeless attempt at a question, at asking permission. You nodded, perhaps too eagerly, but God, you’d never wanted anything so much. He slid in to you, stretching you further than you thought possible, his forehead dropping to yours as a guttural moan ripped from his chest. You keened for him, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as he sheathed himself fully inside of you. He trembled as he held his position, allowing you to become accustomed to his girth. The heat of you, the feeling of being so thoroughly connected to you, had him so on edge he could barely contain himself. You nodded at him, then, allowing him to move at last. He let out the breath he’d been holding, pulling out and then pushing back into you as you gasped, writhed, and moaned beneath him. The sight alone had him almost growling, a feral creature replacing his typically calm facade. He’d been picturing this moment, this very second, every day for so many years now, he’d lost count. Somehow, it managed to exceed every last one of his expectations. The feel of you, the sight of you - it was completely and utterly indescribable.

“Aren’t I?” He grabbed your face, pounding into you at a force like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “Isn’t that what I’ve always been?”

His breath heaved as he spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep any semblance of control that he still had left.

“When I taught you how to ride a bike, when I walked you home from school, when I carried you to bed when you fell asleep curled around me on the couch?” He thrust into you so hard, then, that you swore you felt him in your throat. Your breath was coming in quick and heavy pants, your eyes were welling up with the sheer pleasure, the sheer realisation of what was happening.

“Huh? Isn’t that what I was every time I held you when you cried over some other dick, isn’t that what I was every time I fucked my fist raw to the thought of you, isn’t that what I was when I fell in love with you over and over, so many fucking times, I couldn’t stand it?” He growled as his hips continued to piston in and out, so forcefully, so hard, so perfectly. You cried out, eliciting a moan from him.

“You’ve always been my little girl,” he murmured, his forehead falling forward to meet yours, still clutching your face. “It’s always been you, only ever been you,” his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he relished in the feel of you, how you fluttered around him every time he praised you. “And now Daddy finally gets to fuck his little girl, perfect little girl.”

#i've got the fear despite the gin #i'm so sorry for this #exposing all my issues in one post #my writing #ben solo #ben solo x reader #tw: daddy kink #cw: daddy kink #anon

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ciarawritesmarvel · 5 years ago

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Close to Home [1/4] - Detective!AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Some language here and there, guns and gunshots but only mild descriptions, a teensy bit of angst :)

A/N: Here we are! Gosh, you don’t know how excited I am for this one. The first of four parts to released over this weekend. Please, please, please let me know what you think of this one and any theories you might have, haha! And of course, this is my entry for the lovely @wxntersoldiers‘ 5k challenge. Layla, you are one of my favourite people on tumblr and I know I speak for at least 5000 people when I say that I am so glad to have you around. Here’s to the next 5k! Love and hugs to you all <3

masterlist is in my bio and the series masterlist can be found there! if you fancy being tagged in the next parts over the weekend, drop me an ask!

---

“Lieutenant Rogers?”

You look up from your desk and heave a sigh, fixing your interrupter with a withering glare.

“Steve, we’ve been married for two years.”

“And you told me not to let that affect our working relationship.”

“Okay, well, I revise that statement; it means you can at least refer to me by my actual name,” you explained carefully and Steve rolled his eyes at you before letting them soften as he smiled just a little.

“Fine. Y/N,” he began, tone altogether different and you pressed your lips together in a dire attempt not to melt, “Could we have a chat before this morning’s briefing? It’s pretty important.”

As a detective, you’d become pretty good at reading people. It was practically part of the job description, being able to suss out a lie before somebody had even told it, being able to see the truth shining behind someone’s eyes as they poured their heart out. So the way that Steve’s eyes shifted slightly to the left as he spoke, and that he was twirling his wedding ring around his finger and the slight bite of his lip when he’d finished speaking told you that this really was serious.

“Of course, what do you w-”

“No, no,” he hushed you, leaning over your desk slightly more in order to shield your conversation further and your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Meet me in the closet on the fourth floor in twenty minutes.”

You nodded seriously at him, placing a comforting hand on his own that was on your desk for just a fleeting moment, recognising the flash of something in his eyes as just a tiny spark of fear. It was definitely readable on you now too as he squeezed your shoulder as he left, walking away and into the depths of the precinct before you could say another word.

If he’d wanted to talk in private, surely he could have done it before work?

The next twenty minutes felt long and arduous, hardly getting past the current page of the paperwork you had been sailing through previously. As it was, now all you were doing was chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing at the clock every thirty seconds.

It got to eighteen minutes and you lost composure, reliving the worried look on Steve’s face and you stood from your desk as nonchalantly as you could, brushing down your uniform and making your way to the closet.

“You’re early,” Steve commented as you shut the door behind you and hurried in.

“And you worried me,” you said softly, reaching out a hand to grip his forearm gently, feeling the tense muscle beneath your fingertips. Your brow furrowed, “What is going on Steve?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand and sighed, deep and resonating, a sigh that clearly let out a lot of breath that he’d been holding.

“You know The Suit?”

You let go of him to fold your arms.

“The serial killer we’ve been attempting to track for four months? Yeah, I think I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re-They’re someone from the precinct,” he said lowly, ignoring your sarcasm in favour of just getting to his point. You paused. Blinked.

“How do you know?”

“Found a bug in my uniform yesterday.”

“You found what?” you said incredulously, eyes blown wide and Steve nodded but then you gasped and clapped your hand over your mouth, looking down at your own uniform. He shook his head.

“I checked your uniform this morning and I’ve spent the last twenty minutes searching this room. We’re safe,” he assured you and you sighed in relief.

“That’s why you were out of bed so early this morning,” you whispered, slowly letting your hand fall back down to your side, “How do you know there’s someone on the inside? It could have been someone you passed on the street?”

“No, it’s someone on the inside, I used the bug to trace the signal back to its source and it’s coming right from this precinct.”

“...Could be somebody in the holding cells?”

“Y/N…” he said, tone soft and understanding and you closed your eyes with a deep inhale. You just couldn’t believe it. One of your own helping out such a horrific murderer? You prided yourself on knowing every single face in this building, top to bottom, telling yourself it was part of your job as a lieutenant but really, it was above and beyond the call of duty: you just wanted to be the best lieutenant in the building.

Correction: part of a team of two best lieutenants in the building. Both of which just happened to have the last name Rogers. Such a coincidence.

“You do believe me, right?” he said suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts and you snapped your attention back to him, noting his expression of slight doubt. You realised that this secret must have been weighing heavily on him for the past few days whilst he worked out the safest way to tell you and, without much hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into you. One hand splayed across his back, the other playing with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, you gave him your reply.

“Of course I believe you, honey,” you said kindly as his arms encircled your waist and he rested his chin on your shoulder, temple just bumping gently into yours. Both of you closed your eyes, savouring the comfort that you had always derived from each other. Since the very beginning, “I will always believe you.”

“I know,” he said truthfully, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go, pulling back just enough to look at you, “I know.”

“I just can’t believe it. I believe you, I just can’t believe it,” you tried to explain and he nodded, hands still delicately placed on your waist, rubbing slowly up and down, your fingers still wandering at his neck.

“I’ve been battling with this for days, sweetheart,” he admitted then, “Wondering how to possibly tell you, whether to even tell you, what to fucking do about it?”

“It’s the first lead we’ve had in a month,” you said, trying to steer around the emotional side of it that Steve had introduced. There was plenty of time for emotion later, when you got home and inevitably collapsed into a tangled mess on the sofa, but for now, at work, you needed to treat this like any other lead you might get on a prolific murderer, “We have to start investigating, however hard that is. You know that, Steve.”

“I do. But we can cry later, right?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you agreed, with a small humourless chuckle that he joined you in, “We can cry later.”

“We need to get back to alleviate any suspicion,” Steve decided, beginning to turn away to leave the closet when you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into you.

“Hey,” you said lightly, a smile creeping up on your lips as you dropped your voice to what you hoped was an enticing whisper, “Any suspicion will only be about whether or not we’re making out in here. So why don’t we confirm that suspicion and alleviate any others.”

You took the opportunity to slide your hand up his arm and onto his chest, bringing your other hand up to the side of his neck.

“Well, you have a point,” he murmured, looking down at your hips as he placed his hands carefully on either side, massaging with his thumbs that just drifted up and underneath your shirt.

“I do have a point.”

“But the case…”

“Can wait for five minutes,” you finished for him quietly, bringing the hand that was on his chest up, up, up and around his neck, both clasping there and tugging his forehead against yours, “So would you please - please - let me kiss my husband for five minutes and forget about this nightmare.”

A lengthy pause. Breath mingling together, slightly accelerated, thumbs now rubbing numb little circles against your waist. Steve closed his eyes.

“I guess I would quite like to kiss my wife right now,” he muttered before gently guiding you to his lips and eliciting a sigh of relief from you.

The case had to wait for fifteen minutes.

---

7pm. Poodle Doodle Diner. Two burgers. One extra large sides of fries. Two shakes. And a whole lot of whispering.

You and Steve had gone out for dinner after work, knowing that if your uniform was bugged then there was a high chance that your home was bugged too. Unfortunately, the ‘two best lieutenants in the building’ had held a housewarming party a week or so ago when they’d moved and almost everybody had come. If they’d gotten to your uniform then they’d be stupid not to bug the house.

The clothes you were currently wearing had been thoroughly checked and you felt 75% safe.

“It is not Carl, Steve.”

“What do you mean it’s not Carl? It could be!”

“No, it couldn’t be, and you’re only saying it could be because he flirts with me,” you said, exasperated, because you’d already had the ‘Carl’ talk fourteen times. In the past few months, pretty much any and every crime was a possibility for Steve to try to pin on Carl somehow.

“Carl was looking quite shifty yesterday, you know.”

“Well, this neighbourhood is only five blocks from Carl’s, Y/N.”

“Look, babe! A sandwich wrapper dropped at the scene of the crime...Carl had a sandwich for lunch three days ago!”

He had flirted with you at the Christmas party two months ago and seen the rise he had gotten out of Steve, and ever since had been determined to continue to get the same rise again and again and again. He’d flirt with you every chance he got, and you would act just as cold as usual towards him until he buggered off. Steve’s scowl seemed to etch deeper lines into his forehead each time.

“Wha…? That is...preposterous...and also...not correct-” he stuttered and you shook your head as you laughed at him, and he rolled his eyes, “Look, you can’t rule him out.”

“But he’s not any more likely than anyone else in the precinct,” you said pointedly. Steve paused for a moment before folding his arms across his chest like the petulant child he was and falling back further into his chair.

“No.”

“Good. Glad we cleared that up,” you smirked as you stole a couple of fries from the plate in the middle of the table and shovelled them into your mouth, “Now, seriously, any suspects?”

“Other than Carl?”

“Steve-” you warned and he waved you away.

“Okay, okay, seriously? I would be inclined to say Grant, Kelsey or Josh.”

“Oh wow, okay, you actually have suspects,” you said surprised and Steve shrugged.

“I’ve had a day or two’s headstart on this, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and a lot of watching. They’re the ones that stick out to me.”

You pondered the information.

Grant was, quite frankly, an asshole. He walked around the place like he owned it, at least when he was in the precinct, he had so many days off. This was all because his daddy was Police Crime Commissioner and he could get away with murder around the precinct. But you weren’t sure if he could actually get away with murder; he’d never been the sharpest tool in the box, you couldn’t think of a good motive for him and he didn’t have his gun license so means would be trickier too. He had opportunity.

Kelsey was sugary sweet. Annoyingly so if anyone asked you, but thankfully nobody did. She was always asking people personal questions and batting her eyes at anyone above her rank in an attempt to climb the ladder. Steve had been on the receiving end more than once, much to your disappointment. She had her gun license, which surprised you all, but again motive escaped you and since she was in the precinct constantly trying to get to the top, opportunity was slim. She had means.

Josh was nice. Kind of ‘nothingy’ in personality if anything, but you’d always assumed that was simply because he kept himself to himself. He was at the bottom of the precinct ladder and you’d had a significant talk with Captain Fury recently about checking up on him due to his difficult financial situation. Everyone who had died had been stinking rich, so there was a possible connection there, but with no gun license and every waking hour spent working overtime to pay his bills, it wasn’t enough. He had motive.

“I assume you’re coming to the same conclusion I did that one had opportunity, one had means and one had motive, right?” Steve’s voice cut effortlessly through your thoughts and you snapped out of your reverie, turning your head back to him with furrowed brow and pursed lips.

“Bingo. Unless we’re missing something, we have no real clear suspects and a pool of about 1000 true possibilities,” you murmured and yours and Steve’s simultaneous sighs echoed throughout the cafe.

“There’s no way we can-”

He was interrupted by your radios going off in tandem. You looked at each other in alarm, before Steve took his out of his pocket.

“We’ve got a hostage situation at the 99th precinct, suspect is on the roof with an officer. Suspect is believed to have a gun. Says he’ll only speak to the Lieutenants Rogers.”

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t even hear what Steve was saying in return, until Steve was shaking your arm and you looked up at him. Saw the fear in your eyes reflected back at you in his.

“We’ve got to go,” he said firmly and finally you snapped back into police officer mode, grabbing your bag and joining him as you ran out of the door. Steve handed you your helmet and you put it on with shaking hands, just about managing to buckle it up as you sat behind Steve and wrapped your arms around his waist. He wasted no time in speeding off into the increasingly dark streets of New York.

You indulged and rested your cheek against his back, closing your eyes for only a moment and pretending that you were simply headed home, to a glass of wine and a sitcom that you wouldn’t find that funny, to kisses on the sofa and tracing patterns onto Steve’s arms with steady fingertips.

All too soon, you opened your eyes and were met with blaring lights of ambulances and patrol cars and the silhouette of a man holding a gun out in front of him on the roof.

You gulped.

You and Steve took the stairs two at a time, listening for any further updates on the radio with strained ears.

“If he’s holding an officer hostage-” you paused for breath as you continued running up the stairs, “-and he won’t talk to anyone but us-” another breath, “-then it’s The Suit. Right?”

“That is the most likely outcome,” Steve muttered back from ahead of you. You knew that voice. That tone. It meant that he had fully transitioned into work mode, left any emotion that wasn’t useful at the bottom of these stairs. He was focused. Sharply focused.

On the last few flights of stairs, you tried to get yourself into the same headspace.

“Lieutenant, Lieutenant,” one of the cops at the top of the stairs nodded to each of you in turn as you reached them, “Suspect is still out on the roof and has an officer at gunpoint. He has shouted multiple times that if anyone except you two go out there, he’ll start shooting.”

“Brilliant…” you murmured, nodding gratefully at the officer who was handing you your tactical gear during the briefing. You pulled on the bulletproof vest, holster and helmet, cursing yourself for choosing to wear a dress to dinner this evening. There was certainly no time to change.

“Lieutenants, we don’t know who this guy is. Just- be careful,” the officer looked at you with worried eyes, as did the rest of the officers surrounding the door to the roof. You smiled as Steve clapped the briefing officer on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Officer Simmons, all of you. Hold your posts.”

Steve looked back at you and you nodded once, pulling your gun from the holster and joining Steve at the door. You kicked it open and Steve went out first, gun raised, you following soon after.

“Finally. It’s cold up here.”

The voice was male and familiar, not that you could put your finger on who it belonged to. But, more importantly, a quick scan of the scene found only one person on the roof, no hostage, gun pointed directly at you, ski mask firmly in place on his head.

“Where’s the hostage?” you called to him over the wind that jostled the skirt of your dress and you had to fight the instinct to smooth it out again.

“Hostage? Oh, no, there’s no hostage. I just said that so they would definitely send you two out here.”

“What do you want with us?” It was Steve that spoke this time, and although the suspect’s head turned toward him, his gun was still trained on you and the beating of your heart elevated slightly. You were clearly the target here.

“You worked it out. At least, some of it,” the voice paused and the man took a step towards Steve, “You know I work here. I suppose bugging your home and your clothes wasn’t the most sensible idea I’ve had but I had to know how your investigation into The Suit was going, since you wouldn’t let me on the case.”

“Answer his question,” you demanded, taking a step forward, gun still in the air, “What do you want with us? Why are we here?”

“I’m getting to it, Mrs Rogers,” his tone was silvery and spiky all at once and you wanted to slap the ski mask right off his face - that was Lieutenant Rogers to him, “You’re here because I want you to give me your word that you’ll stop investigating this case.”

“And why the hell would we do that?”

“Because, if you don’t,” the masked man took another step towards Steve, and lowered his voice to whisper only he would hear, “I will definitely, most certainly, undoubtedly...kill your wife.”

And on those words, a gunshot went off and your eyes widened at the clear sound ringing through the air and in your ears. You blinked. And then you felt it. The pain. The warmth. You looked down and saw the dark stain on your sleeve that hadn’t been there before.

You dropped harshly to one knee as your hand slowly came up to touch the stain. And then your fingers were red. Dark, deep, deafening red.

Though vision blurred with the beginnings of tears, you saw a figure vault over the railings and down onto the fire escape and a different figure running towards you.

“Y/N!”

Hands on either side of your face. Frantic eyes moving up then down then up again. He was talking into the radio, something about urgent attention that you didn’t have the attention span to work out right now. You reached a hand out and bunched it in Steve’s vest, grounding yourself, grounding him.

“Steve,” you murmured loosely, eyes flickering closed before you forced them open again, “Fire escape. Go.”

“Not a chance,” he shook his head, and you saw his eyes were watery like yours as he ripped a sleeve from his shirt and began wrapping it far too tightly around your upper arm to stop the bleeding, since there was a lot of stairs for the paramedics to climb. You cursed under your breath.

“Lieutenant Rogers,” you spoke more firmly this time, or at least you tried to, not knowing that your voice was slightly slurred and didn’t sound remotely authoritative, “That is an order from a fellow Lieutenant and the lead officer on this case. Fire escape, now.”

“I said no, Y/N.”

His voice was harsh and almost came out as a snap and made your eyes open wide again as you stared at him, dumbfounded. Before you knew it, the paramedics had burst onto the roof and Steve stood back from you to let you be treated. With nothing left to say and nothing left to do, you let your eyes flutter closed as they wanted to and let the worried voices surrounding you fade into nothingness.

#wxntersoldiers5kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers series #captain america imagine #captain america angst #captain america fluff #captain america series #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel series #marvel fanfiction #close to home

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haunting-kind-of-high · 7 years ago

Text

Broken Fantasy (Part 1)

Part 2

Warnings: Self-hate/self-deprecation, slight bit of swearing

Tag list: @musicphanpie-b, @imin-loveanon, @ordinary-chaos, @sandersandthesides, @ajumbleofwords, @demonickittykat, @zadi-jyne, @serenefreakgeek, @fandons-mangoes, @leesacrakon, @gayfagg, @tree4life25, @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet, @ilovemygaydad, @kittyboof8, @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn, @starlight-sanders

Notes: This fic was based on this post and all of the additions. It’s part of a two-part fic, the next part will be up in the next week, probably.

Read on AO3 here

Worthless, unoriginal, failure.

“How about we do the Seven Second Challenge?” Roman suggested to the other sides. “Thomas could do it, with Joan and Talyn. Or we could all do it for a fun twist. What do you say?:

"Thomas has already done that,” Virgil commented. “Multiple times, even. We need something he hasn’t done before.”

“Precisely,” Logan nodded. “And I do not feel much for doing these silly challenges in only seven seconds.”

Roman nodded as he crossed the idea off his list. Another idea they had tossed to the side.

“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Patton tried, looking at the creative side next to him, “but they are right. Thomas has done it before. But it’s still a fun idea to keep in mind!”

“Right.” Roman didn’t look at Patton, he just kept his eyes focussed on the paper in his hand. Most of the ideas he had written on there, had already been crossed out again. The other sides - and especially Logan and Virgil - had turned down every idea he had come up with. Even the ones he had been so enthusiastic about, and to be fair, he was starting to get annoyed by now. He had tried so hard to come up with good ideas and they just tore them down. Every. Single. One. “Well, how about this… we do one of these questions tags on internet? Like the TMI tag- oooh or we can do one of those on Tumblr! Thomas can reblog one of the question tags on there and his followers can send in the questions they want answered and he can answer a bunch of them!”

“Dude, really?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really want to do that? Thomas can do that on Tumblr as well, why should he make a video about it?”

“Because it is fun?” Roman retorted before he went to cross out that idea as well. He tried to hide his frustration, but he wasn’t doing a great job.

“I think Virgil means that it wouldn’t be as… special,” Patton tried carefully, “he can just do something like it on Tumblr, and maybe it wouldn’t be the best format for a video? That doesn’t mean we can’t do it, though! But maybe it’s better to keep it on Tumblr?”

“Thanks, Patton,” Roman nodded. He didn’t actually meet Patton’s gaze, but he kept his eyes fixed on the paper. That was it. His last idea. And the other had accepted none. “Well… that was it. I guess I- eh… I guess I should come up with some new ideas, then. I’ll be back when I’ve got more.”

And without waiting for a response, he sank out.

Unimportant, insignificant, unimaginative.

How hard could it be to come up with one good idea that they all loved? As it turned out, really hard, because once again, all of his ideas had been shut down. They didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself. Virgil and Logan were the worst. Because where Patton sugar-coated his critiques and made sure that the prince knew his ideas weren’t bad, just not what they needed, the two other sides did none of that. If they didn’t like an idea, they told him straightaway. It’s not good, it’s not original, we can’t use it. It was as if they didn’t realise that he had feelings too. That their comments hurt him. Was it so difficult for them to think before speaking? Roman had to admit that he might not have done that in the past but… he had changed, he was trying to change. If he could do it, why couldn’t they?

Unnecessary, meaningless, useless.

He didn’t bother coming up to share his ideas anymore. He couldn’t think of anything anymore. They wouldn’t like it. What was the point if they wouldn’t like it? Why would he even bother? Why even try?

Every once in a while, an idea would pop up in his mind. Eagerly, he would write it down, only to find out that it wouldn’t be good enough. Logan would think it was too out there, Virgil would think it was too boring, too unoriginal. He would cross it out again, tear the paper in half or throw it across his room.

What even was the point? If he couldn’t even think of one good idea? He was supposed to be Creativity, the source of good and original ideas. The others were supposed to love his ideas. They were supposed to be creative, not lame attempts at creativity. He wasn’t worthy of the title ‘Creativity’. He wasn’t good enough. Why even bother when all your ideas would be as worthless as his? He knew their ideas weren’t good; the others made it quite clear. So why even try to make something better the next time, right?

What even was the fucking point?

Roman looked up at the many posters on his wall. Disney movies, Harry Potter movies, musicals. They were all there. He used to love looking at them so much. It was a comfort to him to look at the familiar faces on the walls. But now, they seemed to be taunting him. At least their creators had been able to come up with a good idea. At least they were successful. Unlike him. He was just a failure. A pathetic excuse for creativity. A pitiful attempt at originality.

He felt tears burning in his eyes as he realised this. He was so worthless. Why couldn't he come up with one good idea? That would be enough for the others to accept him again, right?

He tried, he really did. But he got nothing. No matter how hard he tried. The prince groaned. As he looked up, the faces of Harry, Ron and Hermione were looking at him. Mocking him. Loser, piece of trash, failure. Thomas would be better off without you. Useless piece of trash.

Roman had had enough. He couldn't take it. He knew he would regret this later, but right now, he didn't care. He got up in frustration and lunged at the poster in front of him. He stabbed the sword at the three teens in front of him. He hit the wall, but he couldn"t care less. If only they'd stop taunting him. Roman pulled the sword down a little, creating a wobbly slash across the paper of the poster. The sword fell down next to him as he desperately grabbed the small whole the weapon had created and he pulled at the poster, tearing it in half. The two pieces still stuck to the wall with the blu-tack he had used. The lower half now hung down sadly, lifeless. As Roman released the poster from his grip, he fell to his knees as a chokes up sob left his throat. He was a failure. An idiot. Worthless.

Over the days that followed, Thomas kept trying to come up with videos. He tried his best, but it was like his creativity wasn’t even there!

Wait…

It wasn’t…

There.

That was it!

“Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, could you come up here please?” Thomas called out into… nothing, really. Just a few seconds later, three of the four sides popped up around him. Only, someone was missing.

It was the prince.

Just like Thomas had expected, Roman did not answer to his call. The man looked at the side’s usual corner, half expecting the prince to pop up after all with a witty remark or a reference. The other three sides noticed this behaviour and they stared at the empty corner as well. But no Roman came in.

“Okay guys… what’s going on?” Thomas asked after a short silence no one had wanted to break. “I haven’t had a proper video idea in ages. Is… something going on with Roman?”

“Well, I do believe he has been struggling for ideas lately,” Logan answered, turning his head to Thomas. “And he has been quite aloof lately but I must say that’s all I noticed.”

“Now, are you sure that is all?” Patton asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked Logan straight in the eyes, his mouth curled into a frown. It was the total opposite of his usual, bubbly appearance.

“What do you mean, Patton?” Logan inquired.

“You and Virgil have been shooting down all his ideas in the past week,” Patton explained frustratedly, his hand gesturing in the direction of the empty corner where Roman usually stood. “You criticized everything he came up with without even taking his feeling into account. Of course he wouldn’t want to share his ideas anymore.”

“What- what are you…”

“You know what I’m talking about, Logan,” Patton interrupted. There was something in his voice some… vulnerability that made this whole ordeal worse. It wasn’t a lecture, Patton was disappointed that the two sides had acted the way they had, ignoring not only the signs of Roman’s hurt feelings, but also Patton’s warnings. Sure, when he drew their attention to their behaviour, they would change it, but the next day, it would all be forgotten again. And Patton hated seeing it. “You can’t convince me you don’t know. I’ve talked about this before.”

Virgil looked at the ground, his fingers toying with the zips on his sleeves. This really felt like one of those 'I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’-lectures and he hated it. He hated it because he knew Patton was right. He hated it because it made him realise he had done to Roman what Roman had done to him. He hated it because he remembered how much he was hurting back then. But most of all, he hated it because it was Patton talking here. His best friend Patton who would do anything to help him, who he would do anything for. That same guy was lecturing him about what they had done. And he knew it was justified. He had loathed Roman for bringing him down the way he did and now… now he was no better than Roman had been. If anything, he was even worse.

“Wait, is this true? Is that what’s going on?” Thomas asked, looking at the three sides around him. He had no idea what had happened in the mindscape, but if what Patton said was even close to the truth, they’d have a big problem to fix.

“I think we should go to Roman’s room,” Virgil said suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think Patton is right and… we… we need to talk to him about this whole… thing.”

“Yeah, you do,” Patton nodded sternly. It was so weird to hear Patton like this. He hardly acted like this with all of them there. Something must have happened.

“Can someone please explain what’s happened?” Thomas tried once more. “What’s been going on?”

“Well,” Patton hesitated as he snuck a few glances at the two other sides, “I think it started after the Christmas video. Roman has been acting weird ever since. And lately, he’s been struggling to come up with ideas… mostly because most of his ideas get turned down. I think that’s been really though on him.”

“This has been going on since Christmas?” Thomas asked incredulously. “That’s been weeks! Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Patton shrugged and turned to the two remaining sides for answers. He wanted to know the answer to that question himself. He had brought the issue up to them multiple times, but neither Logan nor Virgil seemed to actually realise the severity of it. Sure, when Patton mentioned it, they promised they’d watch what they said, but it was as if they thought that Roman would be able to take it. Granted, he did act like their comments never hurt him, but Patton saw something behind his façade. The same pain he had seen in Virgil’s eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking, I think,” Virgil said. “I don’t know, I fucked up, okay? We both did. But we’re not going to solve anything by discussing this here, so are we going to his room or not?”

“We’re going down there,” Patton agreed. “And you guys need to apologize to Roman.”

“Sure thing, dad,” Virgil said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The three sides all looked at Thomas expectantly. The man closed his eyes. Roman was the creative side so Thomas tried thinking creative thoughts. Thoughts of Disney, musicals and performances filled his mind and he could feel himself getting weightless for a few moments. It was as if he faded out of existence, dissipating into nothingness. And when he opened his eyes, Thomas expected himself to be standing in some sort of Disney Valhalla. He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting. Countless posters, all his acting awards on a shelf maybe, playbills, merchandise. Maybe some decorative statues or plants? Maybe Thomas had expected a gorgeous room, much like a room in a castle or palace would look like, with marble pillars and large windows, rich decorations and a huge chandelier in the middle of the ceiling with shards of glass in many colours, making the room look like a work of art. But what he actually saw, was a little… disappointing.

Disappointing and unsettling.

The room, like both rooms Thomas had visited before, looked like his living room. Only this room was practically empty, void of any furniture or decorations. Thomas could see small scraps of paper stuck to the wall where a poster had been ripped off the wall. He could see a total of five posters still on the walls, but they had been slashed and stabbed by the prince’s sword. Some had been torn apart - by his own hands it seemed. The room even seemed colder than his own living room.

“This is Roman’s room?” Thomas asked in surprise. “This is not at all what I had expected.”

As Thomas spoke, his eyes were drawn to a poster in front of him. He knew it was a poster for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. But only because he had seen it so often. The poster itself was almost unrecognizable. The poster had been slashed in half, the bottom half hanging down sadly, leaving only the trio’s faces to be seen. Harry’s face had been stabbed too, tearing the paper. It was oddly disturbing.

Patton had wandered over to something red in the far corner of the room. He picked it up and frowned as he studied the smooth fabric in his hands. It had been broken as Roman had torn it away from his body, tossing it aside without looking back at it. It was his sash.

There was something disquieting about seeing the sash on the ground, tossed aside without a second thought. It had always been a part of Roman’s outfit, the bright red colour of the fabric making him stand out even more, contrasting the white and black of his clothing. By ripping away the sash, it was as if Roman had torn away a part of himself. As if he wasn’t worthy of it.

“Guys,” Virgil’s voice pulled the two away from their thoughts and the two of them turned to the anxious side, who had walked to something in another corner of the room, but his body hid it from Thomas’ sight. He sat on his knees, holding something in his hands. “You might want to take a look at this.”

Thomas walked over to where Virgil sat, followed closely by Patton, who still clutched the red sash in his two hands.

“What is that?” Patton asked as he came to a halt behind the younger side. Soon enough, Thomas caught up to them. In front of him, he saw a small, red bin. It was filled to the brim with crumpled up papers. In fact, it was so full that a bunch of the papers didn’t even fit anymore.

“His ideas, I think,” Virgil said, as he stared at the paper he held in his hands. “Look at this: 'Cartoon Therapy: Dot and Larry’ the next bit is illegible, but I can see… I think it’s Star vs the Forces of Evil? I don’t know, it looks like it. I think these things were his ideas.”

“Why would he do this?” Thomas frowned as he picked up another piece of paper. He unfolded it and attempted to read the text on it. But everything had been crossed out to forcefully that the pen had ripped through the paper. Thomas could not make out a single word. His heart sank. Roman must have felt so lost, so… forlorn. He couldn’t imagine what must have been going on in the prince’s head. It was horrible.

Meanwhile, Logan was eyeing something much, much bigger. He had looked around and behind them, he noticed something that unsettled him more than anything else in the room.

“I think we might have a bigger problem at hand,” he stated monotonously as he looked at the picture in front of him. Thomas, Virgil and Patton looked up at the sound of his voice. Patton gasped when he saw what the logical side meant. They were looking at a mirror. A huge, ornate mirror on the wall. A mirror that would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been destroyed almost completely. The wooden frame had been slashed and chipped - by Roman’s sword, they reasoned. The dark wood had been so gorgeous, the design so intricate, but it had been ruined by the prince’s weapon. Pieces had been cut off or completely destroyed by scratches and cuts. But that wasn’t all. Of course it wasn’t all.

What was even worse, was the mirror itself. It was completely shattered. The ground around it was littered with shards of the glass, some just tiny strips of glass, others big and pointed. You could see several marks of impact, where something had made contact with the mirror. Most likely a fist, Logan reasoned.

But there was one thing that stood out. Literally.

In the middle of the mirror, at eye level, he saw Roman’s sword sticking out of the mirror.

Right between the eyes.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #roman sanders #roman sanders angst #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #mercy's writing #broken fantasy

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