#i fell asleep in the middle of writing this i meant to finish it last night

[tklpilled]

APPLE TART OR AZUJAMI PERHAPS?? u may pick which one 🤭🤭 someone needs to tickle them BAD.

- anzynai anon (im not anon.)

the thing about overblotting that no one tells you is that you become very, very tired afterwards.

riddle lays in bed, groans as he pulls the blanket further around himself. the aching has faded, at least, but all he wants to do anymore is sleep. he hates it; it's hard enough struggling not to close his eyes throughout the day, even worse with the irritating looks of pity that the other students give him. he squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his grip. at least it's nighttime now.

there's a tiny squeak beside him. "ow. you're crushin' me."

riddle hums, letting his hold loosen up, giving epel the chance to squirm and get comfortable. the other boy stretches a little, then cuddles right back into riddle's side. riddle puts his arms around epel's waist, hiding his face in the soft mess of lavender hair.

riddle's not much of a hugger, but he finds he welcomes touch anyway. especially with epel, it seems; it's as if his stress melts away instantly. epel is warm and soft and comfortable and riddle never wants to leave.

"cut it out," mumbles epel, tone higher-pitched than usual. riddle finally blinks open his eyes, snapping out of his thoughts. he rubs his thumb along epel's side, making him shiver. "hey."

it hits riddle, suddenly, that he's a stranger to tickling. no one's ever tried to tickle him before, and he's never been close enough to anyone to try it. but there's something about epel that makes him feel giddy, playful, and he can't resist the urge to dance his fingers across epel's stomach.

epel gasps and covers his mouth with one hand, muffling his sudden torrent of giggles. "wait, cohohome on—!" he whines, his free hand uselessly fighting riddle's.

riddle feels himself smile. "please, be quiet. the queen of hearts strictly forbids laughter after ten pm." it's a lie, of course, but who is epel to argue?

so the pomefiore boy laughs and hiccups into his sleeve, kicking weakly in protest. there's no other word for it but cute, despite however much he tries to deny it. it makes riddle's heart swell almost painfully, in a way he hasn't felt in a long time.

(epel tells him later that he's not allowed to cuddle him anymore—but that's a lie, too.)

[withleeknow]

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities. 

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.12.2023]

[the-guilty-writer]

The Big Game and Revelations

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: A fun night out with the team turns into a case, which turns into a disaster, which turns into Rossi-Reid’s own personal Hell.

A/N: Ah, yes… this one should be interesting and after the Super Bowl I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I did try to get this out on the night of the Super Bowl but I fell asleep trying to finish it. I think it was worth the extra week it took to write it though.

CW: Rewrite of S2E14 and E15 so it’s heavy, very minor suicidal idealation.

---

You were actually excited about the Super Bowl this year for one reason and one reason only… 

The Chicago Bears were playing.

And you had a bet with Derek Morgan. The two of you had pooled a week's worth of paperwork each… and the loser had to do all of it.

Of course Derek had his love for Chicago and team spirit on his side.

But you had Peyton Manning.

And Spencer Reid.

Before placing the bet, you had pulled up all the statistics and you and your husband spent your day off deciding mathematically, who would be the most likely to win Super Bowl XLI. Ultimately, the formula that Spencer had come up with predicted the Colts would come out on top. The next day you didn't hesitate to challenge Morgan, and with his competitive spirit and hometown honor on the line, he couldn't resist the bet.

A hopeful blow to Morgan's ego wasn't the only reason you had wagered with him, though. With a whole week of paperwork off your plate, you'd be able to take the Friday after Valentine's day off so you and Spencer could take a mini vacation.

Spencer knew this was the plan the moment you'd given him the stack of papers filled with player stats. He was looking forward to it too.

The entire team, with the exception of Gideon, was at a local bar. You and Spencer were sitting at a table with a few people you'd met, Spencer impressing them with his extensive knowledge of Star Trek. Morgan was on the dance floor, Penelope was shamelessly watching him, JJ was kicking ass at darts. You saw Prentiss bringing drinks toward a table, noticing that Hotch had even brought Haley for the occasion. Quietly, you excused yourself to go say hi to them.

Besides, it was good for Spencer to be left without you sometimes. The last few cases you’d spent more time with other members of the team. Part of that had to do with the nature of the cases, but part of it also had to do with the fact that Gideon had asked you to watch over Emily. You weren’t sure if it was as Agent Gideon who trusted your evaluation of another agent's abilities, or Uncle Jason who knew that you really needed more friends; but it meant that you’d worked with her on a few consults and even been paired together on a case.

The shift in dynamics had forced a shift in Spencer. You could see that slowly, but surely, the confidence in him at work was growing, and you loved to see it. It was in the little ways he would tease Morgan back now, or that he didn’t hesitate to bother Prentiss while she was in the middle of paperwork. Even though the ordeal with Nathan Harris had been tragic, watching Spencer take a role of someone older and wiser, yet still compassionate and still himself, showed you how much he had grown since you’d first met him.

“How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?” You heard Haley say as you approached them.

“She means, am I being nice to you?” Hotch said.

“Actually, everyone has been incredibly nice.” Emily smiled.

“I think it’d be nice if the boss covered all our drinks tonight,” you said as you walked up beside Emily.

Haley laughed and Hotch cracked a smile. “For everyone but you, (Y/N),” he said.

You faked offense, bringing a hand to your chest before turning to the Hotchner. You knew she always got a kick out of your theatrics. “Haley, do you see how he treats me?”

Haley laughed again. “You be nice to her,” she scolded Hotch playfully. He pouted and she laughed again. “I swear you two bicker like siblings.”

Hotch was about to say something when Garcia interrupted. “Look at him move.” The 'him' in question was Morgan, and the move in question was… questionable. He hadn’t even noticed the Bears had lost. “He’s like a cat.”

“More like a dog!” You and Emily said at the same time. Both of you grinned. Gideon had truly created a monster by making the two of you work together.

“He did not ask them to dance. They asked him,” Garcia defended.

“Okay,” Emily said. “Okay, he’s a cat.”

“An alley cat,” Haley commented. You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, Haley, let’s go show them how it’s done,” Hotch said as he grabbed her hand.

“I’m game if you are!” Haley looked at you as Hotch led her away. You faked a retch, making her giggle.

“That’s so sweet!” Emily sighed a bit.

“It gets a little gross after twelve years,” you told her. “Especially when I had to listen to him pin nonstop for the first two years they dated… "Oh I never thought she’d love me, why do I have to go on a case for twenty four hours away from my love, oh why, why, why’…” You tried your best to mock young Hotch in love.

“So you and Reid won’t be gross in another eight years?” Emily asked.

You watched Hotch spin Haley around on the dancefloor, both of them simply enjoying the presence of one another. The way they moved with one another had nothing to do with acts of lust (unlike Morgan who was… being Morgan), and everything to do with knowing a person inside and out. Hotch leaned in to whisper something to Haley and she threw her head back with laughter. Her laugh made him smile.

In all the years you had known Aaron Hotchner, no one could make him smile like Haley Brooks did.

“Maybe a little,” you said, just low enough that no one could hear you over the music.

“Hey,” JJ said as she approached from behind. You could already tell by the tone in her voice what was coming next.

“We have a case, don’t we?” you said.

JJ sighed. “Yes. We do.”

---

The case was odd, to say the least. With so much evidence, the team should have been able to put a profile together easily, but things just weren’t adding up. The religious obsession combined with the technology, the dominant and submissive team dynamics that weren’t constant, the obvious organization with, what seemed to you to be, a disorganized system.

You were out in the field with Morgan when you got the text that there was another crime scene. Morgan was on the phone with Garcia. “Yeah, baby girl. Tell him we’re on our way.” He whipped the car around. 

When you arrived on the scene, you got straight to work, but just like before, nothing seemed to make sense. The religious ramblings were beginning to irritate you. You understood them enough, but you didn’t have extensive knowledge on different analysis on the passages over the centuries or know the actual wording in Latin like Spencer did. But Spencer wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Hotch,” you called to him. “Where’s Spence?”

“I sent him and JJ to go interview someone who might know something,” Hotch told you. The vagueness of it all told you that it was probably nothing- that it was a stretch.

But hours later, the distress on Hotch’s face and the strain to keep his voice steady made it obvious to you that it wasn’t a stretch. “Hankle?”

“Hotch, what is it?” Morgan’s voice was filled with concern as well.

But when Hotch answered, he wasn’t looking at Morgan, he wasn’t looking at Gideon or Emily; he was looking at you. “JJ and Reid went to interview him. He’s the unsub.”

---

The drive to the unsub’s house was a chaotic collage of names and tactical plans, of kevlar and lights and sirens. But you hardly remembered any of it. Your mind was on Spencer.

There was always a chance that he and JJ were fine; that they realized he was the unsub and parked out of cell service, waiting for the rest of you to arrive. But there was also a chance that they weren’t fine.

When you arrived on scene, your brain kicked into a different gear- it wasn’t wife gear, but it also wasn’t Agent Rossi gear. It was a strange inbetween that you had never felt before- a collected calm caused by panic. You went with Morgan and Prentiss to the barn, only to find yourself on the wrong side of JJ’s sidearm.

“JJ,” Morgan called. “It’s Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss. Don’t shoot.” JJ lowered her gun and Morgan did the same, approaching her. “It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

You approached JJ alongside your other two team members. Your mind was cloudy and clear at the same time, your body shaky but still. In JJ’s frazzled state she continued to talk, ignoring Morgan’s question- the one you wanted to know the answer to- where was your husband?

When Prentiss got her to slow down, telling you that they had split up and Reid took the back, you didn’t hesitate to follow Morgan out into the cornfield. There were obvious signs that someone had been dragged and then the trail stopped. You could see it in your head like a nightmare- Spencer being drug through the vegetation and thrown into the back of a vehicle.

Somehow you ended up in the house with the rest of the team, hearing, but not truly listening to what they were saying. You stood at the window, the flashing blue and red lights highlighting the streaks in the grass. The whole world was slow and blurry, but not from tears; it was from shock. You recalled the first time you ever got shot- it wasn’t bad, but the sudden impact of the bullet and the instantaneous pain that followed made it feel as though your brain had disconnected from your body. But that sensation had ended in a few minutes… this one felt never ending. That was, until, Gideon asked the question.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Gone,” you answered before Morgan could.

Your head came back to you, the shakiness of your hands stopping, something building inside you like a dormant volcano- destined to explode, but no one would see the signs until it was too late. You looked at the team. They were lined up in a semicircle, each of them looking at you with a different adverse emotion- Morgan, resentment; Prentiss, pity; Hotch, anxiety; Gideon, disbelief; and JJ; guilt.

“Spencer’s gone.”

---

You didn’t sleep that night, but Morgan was adamant that you take breaks, drink water, and provided you with many gentle squeezes on the shoulder when he walked by. Prentiss sat down with you and together, the two of you began unpacking the journals before going through them. She was less about sympathetic looks and more about action. It was a good combination for you at the moment.

The rest of the team on the other hand was… Well, JJ avoided you at all costs. Gideon didn’t actively avoid you, but he couldn’t seem to look at you and when you spoke he always left the room. Hotch up and left- driving all the way back to DC to get Garcia and then all the way back. He could have had any other agent do it, but he did it himself. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust anyone at the moment, or if it was because he needed to run.

When Gideon got the call that Hotch and Garcia were on their way, all of you gathered in the room downstairs, surrounded by boxes and journals and things that would hopefully lead you to finding Doctor Reid. That’s how you had to think of him right now; not as Spencer, your husband, of Agent Reid, your colleague, but of Doctor Reid- just some smart guy with three PhDs. You knew that it was distancing yourself from the situation, but you couldn’t help it. If that’s what you had to do, you would do it.

“Welcome to our nightmare,” JJ said as Garica walked through the door.

It might just be a nightmare to you, but it’s worse than Hell for me. You swallowed your anger and told the voice at the back of your head to shut up. You had a job to do. She shouldn’t have let them split up.

Morgan and Garcia got started in the room full of computers, JJ went to take a break, and Gideon and Emily went to do some more searching upstairs. You sat down at the table and went through more of the journals. The entries weren’t long, but there were a lot of them.

Spencer would get through these in less than an hour.

“(Y/N),” the voice was strong, but more gentle than you were used to. “You should take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, Hotch,” you told him, looking up to meet his unblinking eyes for just a second.

He didn’t argue. He knew better. “I’ll be back to check in later.”

You went back to the journals.

---

Night had fallen and it felt like you were no closer to finding Doctor Reid than you had been when the sun rose. Most of the journals were religious ramblings, and Garcia was working as hard as she could on the computer system, but it still wasn’t matching up. The profile was still a mess. The whole thing was a mess.

“Rossi,” Morgan said. You didn’t respond. He plucked the journal out of your hand. 

“Morgan-”

“I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Okay?”

“Come with me,” he said.

You hesitated. “Okay, lead the way.”

You followed Morgan out of the house and into the night. He walked ahead of you, flashlight in hand. You had to admit that the fresh air was relieving, helping clear any residual fog from your brain. You scanned the sides of the house, the broken boards that needed to be repaired, the roof that needed new shingles, and the gutter full of leaves. Your eyes trailed downward, landing on something strange, something new…

“Morgan!” You called. You jogged over to the cellar doors, drawing your sidearm on the way.

Morgan ran up next to you. “Hey guys, I think we’ve got something!”

Hotch and Prentiss were quick to join you. No words needed to be spoken- Hotch would go in first, then Morgan, and you and Prentiss would stand guard outside. The two men entered the cellar, glocks drawn. You listened carefully, but you couldn’t quite make out all their words.

When Hotch and Morgan came out of the cellar, both of them looked disturbed.

“Anything?” Emily asked.

“We found Hankle’s father,” Hotch said. “He’s dead.”

---

It felt like time was moving at the speed of light and standing still all at the same time. You continued to be able to catch small bits of information- JJ and Prentiss were going to look into Hankle’s Narcotics Anonymous meetings, Hankle’s father had been dead for six months, Garcia was making progress on the computer system- making the day fly by and slow down all at the same time. Around noon, your brain failed you and you fell asleep at the table for just a few hours. By the time you’d woken up, the rest of the team had figured out that Hankle was living as three different people and he had a serious drug problem.

You sat in the room full of screens with Garcia, feeling absolutely like the most useless agent in the world. Of course all the progress had been made while you were asleep. You were hardly paying attention to what Morgan and Garcia were talking about when you heard Penlope’s signature “Oh my god,” and looked over to the screens.

For the past twenty four hours all you’d wanted was to see Spencer- but not like this. Never like this.

You gathered around the computers with the rest of the team, trying to keep your face as still as possible. You wanted so badly to be able to focus on what was going on- analyze the situation, the words, the background, in an effort to find out where Spencer was, but your mind couldn’t work. Not while watching this.

Then the feed cut- all the screens going blank- and any hope of finding evidence to rescue your husband was gone. You heard Morgan punch the door as he stormed out of the room. The sound brought you back to reality, and you followed him out of the room.

“Morgan,” you called to him, but he kept walking, all the way out onto the front porch and into the front yard. “Morgan!”

You and Morgan were both known to have hot heads when things got personal and rageful, but your emotions came out in loud and painful words; Morgan’s came out in kicking down doors and breaking down walls. You just stood and watched as he took a piece of wood that was laying in the yard and smashed it down on the ground, causing it to splinter into pieces. His back heaved with heavy breathing, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d be scared of him. But you did know better.

“Derek,” it was more gentle this time, and the other agent turned around to look at you. The fury and frustration now replaced with an expression of agony.

He walked up to you quietly, shaking his head just a bit. “How are you doing this, Rossi?”

You closed your eyes tight, and tears pricked at the corners. The pure pain in Morgan’s voice finally causing all the pent up emotion inside to come out. “I’m not,” you admitted.

Spencer had been in plenty of dangerous situations before- stuck in an ER with a known killer, on a train with a psychotic man with a gun, in a mansion with a bomb- but this was the first time he was somewhere completely alone. You trusted that Hotch and Elle and Morgan would help protect him.

But no one could protect him now.

Every feeling you had shoved inside came out at once, and you collapsed in a fit of sobs. Morgan caught you before you could hit the ground, pulling you so tight to his chest you almost couldn’t breath. You cried so hard it hurt- it hurt your head and your eyes and your chest and your heart. Morgan was whispering something to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the explosion of emotion you were experiencing.

When the dam gates closed and the tears stopped flowing, you gently pushed Morgan away and wiped your eyes. “I need to help get him home.”

“Then let’s bring him home.”

---

It felt strange that the team was inhabiting the house of a killer- eating at his table, using his bathrooms, sleeping on his couch- but sometimes to get in the mind of an unsub, you had to do strange things. One of those strange things was using his appliances, including his coffee maker. The entire team was running off caffeine, and you were no exception. Just as you turned the corner towards the kitchen, you heard voices, and paused.

“It’s funny,” JJ said. You didn’t think anything about this was funny. “I keep thinking, the one thing we need to crack this case is uh… well, Reid.”

You wanted to scream.

“Yeah,” Morgan responded quietly.

“You think Reid and I should have stayed together at the barn, don’t you?”

Everything in you wanted to walk into the room and confront JJ… tell her upfront that they should have stayed together and it was her fault that Spencer was missing. But you couldn’t move.

“JJ, go get some rest.” You could hear Morgan’s exhaustion… but you could also hear his anger.

“I can tell that’s what you’re thinking so-”

“I just wanna get Reid home safe.”

“But if I had his back like I was supposed to, he’d be here now.” The defense in JJ’s voice made your blood boil.

“JJ, what do you want from me?”

“I just… I want someone to tell me the truth!”

“The truth is one of you is here and one of you isn’t,” Morgan said, frustration coming through. “You gotta figure the rest out for yourself.” He walked toward where you were standing, just out of sight. When he saw you, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you with sympathy before walking away.

You walked into the kitchen, avoiding looking at JJ as you made your way to the coffee pot. It was empty. You stared at the pot as it brewed, then poured it into your empty mug, not bothering to wait until it was cool before taking a sip. Maybe if you burned your tongue you could keep yourself from saying rageful words. You went to leave the kitchen when-

“(Y/N)?” JJ said.

You shut your eyes tight for a moment and turned, looking at the blonde, but not saying anything.

“What?” You shook your head slightly, keeping your face as straight as possible.

“I-” JJ swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down and took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize to me.” You looked JJ dead in the eye, holding yourself in as much control as possible. “Apologize to Spencer.”

Without another word, you turned and left; not feeling any better, but not feeling any worse.

---

You continued working with Prentiss. Hotch and Gideon were working together- an oddity. But so was a member of the team getting kidnapped. There was a sudden sound of shock coming from the room filled with computers. You and Prentiss both shot up from your seats and quickly filed into the room where the rest of the team was staring at the screens.

Spencer’s chair had fallen over, and he laid on the floor, unmoving. You’d seen enough people who were sleeping, dead, or dying to know the difference, even on a screen. And Spencer was dead.

You’d had this nightmare before, and in every single one you instantly crumbled to the ground in a fit of sobs, fighting whoever tried to touch you or calm you down. In your nightmares, the grief was so overwhelming it robbed your body of air until your head was so light that you couldn’t think- as if your body’s survival response to such overwhelming sadness was to make it so you couldn’t think long enough to be sad at all.

But now that it was real, all you could do was stand there- eyes glued to the screen, mouth slightly agape, blood draining from your face. The feeling was impossibly numb. Your mind not processing anything, refusing to believe what you were seeing. There was no survival response to overwhelming sadness; because all the will you had to survive was gone.

You remembered a quote from Dante’s Inferno- the one book Spencer had ever made you read to him since the original was in Italian- “L’inferno e freddo”: Hell is cold.

And you were frozen.

“Guys.” You heard the voice, but your brain was still in a state of limbo. Only the sudden appearance of a man on the screen, giving Spencer CPR, was enough to snap your body from the frost.

And then Spencer was alive.

Your vision blurred as your eyes watered, relief filling your body. But it was only temporary. The next thing you knew, Hankle was speaking.

“Choose one to die.”

“What?” You weren’t sure if Spencer was still in shock from dying and coming back to life, or if he was truly asking.

“Your team members,” Hankle said. “Choose one to die.”

“Kill me,” the words came out of Spencer's mouth like a plea.

Spencer, no. Your chest tightened, your breathing taught. Just say a name, Spencer. Please don’t give yourself up to him.

“You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied,” Spencer said. It didn’t matter thought- the math worked somehow.

“The team has seven members. Tell me who dies.”

Just say a name, Spencer… any name.

“No.”

Hankle pulled Reid’s revolver from his pocket, pointing it straight at your husband’s forehead. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.” Hankle pulled the trigger. The chamber was empty. A tear streamed down your cheek.

“Choose.”

“I won’t do it,” Spencer’s voice was barely audible over the video feed.

Another trigger pull, another empty chamber.

“Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Choose to live, Spence.

Trigger. Empty chamber.

“Choose.”

“I…” This time Spencer was slower to answer. He was going to choose. He had to choose. If he didn’t, he was dead. “I choose Aaron Hotchner.”

The entire room seemed to become still with shock for a moment, before everyone turned to look at Hotch- you included. The expression on his face wasn’t hurt, or at least you didn’t think so. Hotch had been so avoidant of you the past 48 hours that you weren’t sure that you could read him in this situation. He continued to watch the screen, but you continued to look at his expression.

“He's a classic narcissist,” Reid explained Hotch’s sin. “He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team.”

The wheels turned in your head, and as Hotch furrowed his brow, you could see that the wheels were turning in his head as well. He left the room quickly, and you followed after him. Hotch grabbed the Bible sitting on the table, flipping through it rapidly. You didn’t ask why.

The rest of the team filtered into the room and Hotch looked up. “I’m not a narcissist,” he said. It wasn’t defensive. You’d seen Hotch defensive before, and it was nothing like this.

“Come on,” Gideon started. “Look, you can't think anything from that. He’s not in his right mind-”

“No, stop, stop,” Hotch cut Gideon off and looked around at the rest of the team. “All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?”

Silence.

None of you wanted to answer that question. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” Hotch said. “I have no sense of humor.”

“You’re a bully,” JJ said quietly.

“I’m a bully,” Hotch agreed.

“You can be a drill sergeant sometimes,” Morgan said, avoiding eye contact.

“Right.”

“You don't trust women as much as men,” Prentiss said boldly. You wondered how long she’d been wanting to say that.

Then Hotch turned to you, meeting your gaze for the first time since Spencer had gone missing.

“You avoid difficult emotions,” you told him. “Instead of confronting them.”

“Okay, good.” Hotch kept his eyes on you for a moment before turning back to everyone else. “I’m all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever.” That was true. It always had been. “Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it.”

JJ read the verse outloud. There was more discussion about narrowing down where Spencer might be. You hung onto every word, but you had just called Hotch out on something that you were doing yourself. You’d been burying yourself in work to avoid dealing with the terror and the pain that stirred inside you.

So instead of fighting to let you be in your normal point position when the team raided the cabin, you stayed at the back with JJ. Instead of avoiding her, you worked next to her in silence; both of you sharing a silent and desperate hope that Spencer was okay- that he was alive. When the team spread out, you stuck close to Prentiss, knowing you would need the support if something went awry and not being ashamed that, at the moment, you didn’t trust yourself to stay as steady as you needed to be.

And when Hotch helped Spencer to his feet, you let the tears stream down your cheeks. Holstering your gun, you let yourself go entirely- the relief crashing through your body. You breathed heavily, the cold air causing condensation to form. Morgan put a hand on your arm to keep you upright, and you let him.

You allowed the thoughts that had flooded your mind for the past two days to rise to the surface; that Morgan was probably the only other person in the world who shared what you were feeling right now- disappointment in Hotch for letting Reid and JJ go off in the middle of nowhere on their own, resentment about Gideon nearly getting Spencer killed, and rage at JJ because this never would have happened if one of you were with him instead.

“(Y/N),” Spencer’s voice as he said your name was barely a whisper, but to hear it in person made it real- it made everything real.

You pulled him into a hug, tears free flowing down your face. Spencer wrapped his arms around you tight, pulling you in so your bodies were as close as they could possibly be while standing upright. He buried his head in your shoulder. You leaned your face against the side of his head, pressing your cheek against his curls.

He let go of you slowly, as if you were the one thing keeping him tied to earth, your eyes locking only for a moment before Gideon walked over. You let Spencer lean on you, keeping his hurt foot off the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Gideon said. “Come on.” Gideon went to support Spencer on the other side, helping him forward just a few steps before-

“Please.” Spencer looked at Gideon, but not at you. “Can I have a second alone?”

You looked at Spencer, but he didn’t look back at you, so instead you looked at your mentor. He gave Spencer a sympathetic look before locking eyes with you for just a second and walking away.

You let go of Spencer gently, your hands brushing before your bodies lost contact. He turned away without looking at you and began to limp towards Hankle’s body. You turned as well, looking over your shoulder as you walked. Prentiss was the one to help you this time- resting a gentle hand on your back to ground you.

You let her lead you back toward the SUVs, but you didn’t quite know where you were going; your mind was still full of Spencer. Then again, your mind was almost always full of Spencer- but not in this way. Never in this way.

“He’s going to be okay,” Emily said gently.

You let out a heavy breath. The clearing where the vehicles were parked was lit up by flashing colored lights. An ambulance had arrived, as had a coroner’s van. Officers were talking quietly, Hotch was pacing as he talked on the phone, JJ sat in the open trunk of an SUV staring out into the distance.

It was all over, but somehow you felt like things had only just began. 

“How do you know?” you asked her, breathing out as you did. It sounded helpless, but that was how you felt.

Emily put a hand on your shoulder, looking into your eyes. “Because,” she said- her voice was gentle, but her words were confident. “He has you.”

---

Join the tag list

taglist:

@doctorsteeb@saturnluvvr@padsfirewhisky@staygoldsquatchling02@mycoolusernamesstuff@reidstileschishiya@rory-cakes @star-wars-lover

[gemini-castor-and-pollux]

(finished writing the lumini fanfic because screw you anon so here it is also I put there colour so you know who was talking if no colour than it's lunar:

I just heard a knock on my door, I went to my door and I saw it was an Amazon package that was a gift. The gift for Gemini has finally come well, specifically for Castors finally came. Pullox came before Castor’s. I got Pollux, a fidget toy I think they’ll like. It's an infinity cube with a space theme, I know it’s kinda ironic since they’re Astro bodies from space. I don’t know exactly what books Castor likes, but I think he’ll like the Percy Jackson and the Olympians book series. I just have to wrap the books and hope they enjoy the gifts it was originally meant to be for Valentine's Day, I thought to myself. I had just finished wrapping the gift, now it was time to meet them at the restaurant, then we’ll star-gaze I should start heading over luckily it isn't that far away.

It took me a couple of minutes before I finished wrapping up the gift and I started to head out to the restaurant. As I exited the apartment building I saw the sun already setting, I started to jog since I didn’t want to be late and since I’m an animatronic I won’t get sweaty or out of breath.

Once I got there I saw Castor and Pollux already there I assume they just teleported in. I walked over to where they were I just stared at them for god knows how long. Then Pollux broke the silence “You going to say anything or just keep staring at us?” You could hear her laughing a bit as she spoke, I quickly recovered and responded with “Huh? Oh sorry, I just got lost starting at how beautiful you guys look. But anyways let's get a seat�� I said the last part as I made my way towards the hostess stand.

It maybe a minute at most, before we were fully seated at a table and then the menus were placed in front of us.

I decided to take advantage of this "Hey so I have gotten you guys Valentine's Day gifts but they came late…so here" I handed over the gifts. Pollux quickly ripped it open, while Castor took a bit more time opening it. Pollux thought it was cool and adamantly started playing with it. While Castor was studying the books looking at the blurb, but ended up saying,” Looks interesting thanks” I think I saw a smile form on his face which was not an everyday occurrence.

We spent about an hour and a half there both of them trying different foods and drinks and were just enjoying the dinner. Once we made it to the forest I don’t remember them turning into Gemini but that was fine, we made it into the middle of the forest and we laid down on the grass looking up into the sky. I don’t remember this but Castor and Pollux both have stated that I fell asleep while I was lying on them. )

[thefairywithboots]

Fates Warning - Chapter 10

Summary: Bruce announces to the band that he is leaving, and they hold his farewell concert. After he says goodbye to everyone and leaves, the band starts talking about packing it in. But Dave convinces them to push forward and look for another singer.

Also on AO3

When summer came around, Bruce announced to the band that he was leaving.

No one was really surprised by this announcement, but no one was particularly happy about this news (except for Nicko, who practically shouted "Good riddance!" in Bruce's face.)

Dave was furious with Bruce for treating Janick like a doormat to the point that he made him cry, but Bruce had been his friend for years, and was the best singer that the band had ever had.

Janick was upset for obvious reasons. He had loved Bruce for three years, and was the reason that he joined Maiden in the first place. Even though he was in love with Dave now, he couldn't imagine where the band might go without him.

Steve seemed to be the only person who was as upset as Janick was. Even though he was in love with Nicko, Bruce had been his best friend for over a decade. He had been frustrated with him, and had been fighting with him a lot recently, but he didn't want him to leave. He had meant so much to him.

But the reality was that Bruce's heart just was not with Maiden anymore. He claimed that he didn't blame anyone for his leaving; not Steve, not Janick. Though he looked visibly pained every time he saw Janick with Dave now. So much so, that he hardly seemed to take notice of Steve and Nicko together.

Bruce of course planned on finishing the Real Live Tour, and they would perform his farewell concert in London in August. He tried multiple times to get Janick alone, to try and talk to him, to try and apologise for the things that happened between them. But Janick pulled away each time, refusing to fall into his trap again, knowing that even if his apology was sincere, it wouldn't last long. He refused to fall for it ever again, ignoring Bruce's pleading brown eyes as he walked past him at breakfast each morning.

It wasn't until Bruce caught Janick and Dave cuddled up together when they fell asleep on the tour bus, that he realised that he fucked up, and that he had truly lost Janick forever.

He hardly talked to anyone after that, though this time it seemed to be more out of shame than spite.

August finally came around, and it was decided upon that their last concert would be collaborating as a horror show with Simon Drake, a popular horror illusionist. There would be several acts planned out, and Bruce would be cinematically "killed" at the end of the show, symbolizing the death of his era with the band.

The day before the show, however, Janick was a nervous wreck. Bruce had made him miserable for the past two years, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling torn up inside about his leaving. The idea of never getting to talk to him, or write with him, again made his heart ache. 

"Are you okay?" Dave asked him one morning while in their hotel room when he noticed how tense Janick was.

Janick nodded. Dave had been supportive of him for months now, not complaining when he woke up crying in the middle of the night, and respecting his boundaries when he said he wasn't ready to be physically intimate yet. 

"It's just... Bruce was my best friend before we..." He trailed off. "And now that he's leaving... it hurts that I'm never going to get to see him again."

Dave wrapped his arms around Janick, enveloping him in his warmth. Janick hugged him back, wanting to bask in his warmth for as long as he could.

"It's okay to feel this way, Jan," Dave said softly. "He was our friend, too. We've toured together for many years, and now he's gone and done this..." It wasn't so much the fact that he was leaving, Dave thought, but how he treated Janick, and even Steve.

Jan hugged him tighter. "Davey?" he said in a small voice.

"Hm?"

"I love you..."

Dave kissed Janick's forehead softly, and his face scrunched up as if he wanted to cry. "I love you, too, Jan..." He hugged him tighter. "More than you can know..."

~~

When the band arrived at the venue the next day, Steve was already beginning to stress how important this gig was, since it would be their last one with Bruce. Janick had a horrible feeling in his stomach because he knew this would be his last time playing with Bruce. But he had to put those personal feelings aside, and act professional.

Dave and Janick were standing by their guitar rigs when Bruce came out of his dressing room. A frown came across his face, and he looked as if he wanted to talk to Janick, but walked away instead. 

The show went surprisingly well, despite the tension between Bruce and the rest of the band. They put on their best performance for their fans, Bruce sang each song as if it would be his last time singing them.

Meanwhile, Simon performed several macabre magic acts between songs, setting an audience member on fire before using the flames to light a cigar, ripping a woman’s heart out for allegedly cheating on him with Nicko, and sawing a bound woman in half at the end of Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter. 

Dave was also dragged off of the stage right before his solo in From Here to Eternity, and his hands were sawed off, and Simon came onstage to mime his solo as Dave played the original solo backstage. 

Just as planned, Bruce was dragged off the stage after the show, and forced into an iron maiden. After the spikes appeared to run through him, Simon wiped them before opening the door that revealed his face, blood pouring out of Bruce’s mouth.

Eddie, their mascot, jumped out from behind the iron maiden, chasing Simon back to centre stage before he was seized by his own dungeon assistants, and impaled on a spike before screaming in pain, and then suddenly going still.

Afterwards, Eddie opened the door to the iron maiden, beheading Bruce, lifting his head up for the audience to see in plain sight, and sticking it onto the same spike that Simon had been impaled on, symbolizing the death of his era with the band.

~~

Janick knew that Bruce was going to want to say goodbye to everyone face-to-face before he left for the airport, and he was bracing himself for it as he waited with the rest of the band in the hotel lobby. Dave sat next to him, clutching his hand. This was probably the only thing preventing Janick from panicking. The mood between them was sombre, and they knew that this was possibly the end of the entire band. What would they do without Bruce?

When Bruce entered through the front entrance and saw them waiting in the lobby, he smiled apologetically, as if he knew that they were all angry with him. Janick did not feel angry anymore, though; he just felt hurt.

Bruce hugged Steve and Dave goodbye, skipping Nicko because he looked as if he would punch him in the face if he so much as even thought about touching him. 

Bruce waited to tell Janick goodbye last, and Janick braced himself for the large puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears, telling him how oh so very sorry he was for how he treated him for the past two and a half years.

"Goodbye, Jan," Bruce said softly before pulling him into a tight hug. Janick hugged him back because he felt obligated to.

The hug lingered longer than the others did, and Janick could feel Bruce not wanting to let him go, as if he was regretting having to leave him. All of their memories together began coming back to him, and Janick began tearing up. 

Bruce finally released him, his hands gripped the sides of his arms, and he looked at him with the large brown eyes that Janick had anticipated.

"I'm...sorry. For everything." Bruce said, his voice breaking slightly as his eyes searched Janick's.

"I forgive you," Janick whispered. The words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. His and Bruce's relationship had emotionally exhausted him, and there was no way he was ever going back. But knowing that this was truly the end for them made him feel like crying. He forgave him, simply because he did not want there to be any bitterness or resentment when he left.

"I love you, Janick."

Janick bit his tongue and averted his eyes, resisting the urge to slap Bruce across the face for such a blatant lie.

A hurt look appeared on Bruce's face when Janick didn't respond, but went back to his seat to sit next to Dave. 

Janick watched as Bruce walked out the door, out of Maiden, and out of his life. He felt as if a massive load was taken off of his chest, but at the same time, he felt as if a chunk of him had been ripped away, leaving a massive, empty hole in his heart. 

Janick didn't realise that he had been crying until Dave's warm hand came to his face, gently wiping away his tears. 

"It's okay, Jan..." he whispered softly. 

Janick silently burst into tears, crying on Dave's warm shoulder. Dave wrapped his arms around Janick, as the four of them sat in the lobby, the sombre atmosphere stronger than ever.

~~

Everyone was upset about Bruce's departure. They had lost their vocalist, and Bruce had been the voice of Maiden, one of the most recognisable aspects of the band's sound. What was the band going to do without him? What choice did they have but to pack it in?

They were hanging out at Steve's house, sitting in his living room while drinking a few beers (Dave had bought a pack at the general store. He had got sick of scotch being the only drink in Steve's fridge.) Janick sat with his head in his hands, appearing to be more distraught than anyone else. Nicko watched him, a sympathetic look on his face. Even he had been upset by Bruce's departure, despite how much he hated to admit it.

Steve was rambling on about what they were going to do next, even considering retiring. Eventually, Dave got tired of having this conversation.

"Look, why the fuck should we give up just 'cause he is?"

Steve looked at him, surprised. It wasn't like Dave to curse so casually. "You mean...look for another singer?"

Janick raised his head when he heard this, a worried look in his greyish-blue eyes. 

"Davey's right," Nicko said while looking down at his own beer. "We shouldn't be givin' up just 'cause Bruce is. We should look for another singer, and start workin' on another album. We ain't dead yet!"

Janick's eyes widened in panick. "But..."

Dave noticed Janick's worried expression, and reached out to squeeze his hand. "It's going to be okay..."

Steve thought the notion through, and sighed. "Fine. I'll call Rod, and let 'im know."

He left the living room to make a call on the house phone, and Janick's eyes met Dave's.

"What are we going to do without Bruce?" he demanded, not caring about how emotional or worried he sounded.

Dave squeezed his hand, but that did little to calm Janick down. "It's all going to work out, okay?"

Word got out quickly that Iron Maiden were searching for a new singer, and mountains of tapes were being sent in by hopeful fans and other singers. The band spent days upon weeks in the studio with their manager, listening to tape after tape, trying their best to narrow down the candidates.

After eventually narrowing the candidates down to twelve singers who would have been able to sing Bruce's parts perfectly, Steve entered the studio announcing that he had found their next vocalist.

The rest of the band stared at him in surprise, because who he had chosen had not even sent a tape in the first place. And while he was in fact a great singer, his style of singing was drastically different than that of Bruce's.

He had chosen Blaze Bayley. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[keets-writing-corner]

*CHOKING

*SOBBING*

*CRYING*

YOU MADE MY DAYYYYYYY

I will apologize to the people who followed me solely for this fic, and that I haven't gotten chapter 4 out when I said I wanted. I've been meaning to make an announcement post explaining the unintended hiatus and this seems like a good moment

I decided to finally try some anti-depressants and oops apparently one of the side effects of SSRIs is just gutting creativity??? so yeah for the past 3 months I've been entirely unable to write, draw or even practice music on any of my instruments. Once I get back from my trip I'm going to switch to a different one and hopefully kick back into full gear

and also, I knew chapter 4 was going to be hard for me to write XD BUT the good news is, some inspiration has been kicking around lately so it actually has grown since the last check in! huzzah! <3 so hopefully I'll be able to get it out and finally finish this behemoth :D

thank you so so much OP for the lovely words and shout out, you have made me want to write more

as a special thank you for this lovely message, please take the first 600-ish words of chapter 4 beneath the cut

Lilith stretched in the bed, the events of the day before flashing through her mind. Lucifer thrashing the demons around, trouncing them, ripping them apart, truly demonstrating just how outclassed they were against him. She thought back on how it took all of heaven to kick him out and it still took them an entire week to do it. And then, when hell was being formed, Lucifer had fought against the elders, and maybe eventually he would have lost but… they wouldn’t have gotten him down to hell in that short of a time frame. They had to literally throw her down first to lure him into going after her. 

Lilith had always considered Lucifer powerful, but that had never meant violent to her. Not him. He was kind, and gentle, and generous and silly, so so silly. Soft hearted even. But he wasn’t afraid to stand up for what he believed in. 

She knew that what happened yesterday had been necessary. Hell, she had even egged him on to do it. But… 

The sight of it, the absolute carnage of it all, his fury… it haunted Lilith. Eve hadn’t been able to bear to keep watching even a part of the way through, begging Paimon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, LILITH even, begging them to make him stop. And when neither of them dared to step out in the middle of his rampage, Eve just retreated deeper into the house and requested them to tell her when it was over. There had been something deeply unhinged about the whole thing. 

Lilith hadn’t been expecting Lucifer to kill anyone. Part of her wondered if it had been a heat of the moment decision and another part of her wondered if it had been deliberate and calculated. After all, these demons might never take him seriously if they thought he could only beat them but not kill them. To be honest, Lilith wasn’t entirely sure whether the decision being impulsive was worse or if it being calculated was worse. 

When it was over, Lucifer came back in, and stood there staring at the floor, as if he himself was haunted by what he had done. His hands shook, his lip trembled, but he said nothing and did nothing. He might have stood there all night had Lilith not taken him by the hands, helped wash the blood off, and then brought him to bed. She had planned to check on Eve but he clung to Lilith. Lilith wasn’t sure how long they lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace as she stroked his back gently until she finally drifted off into sleep. 

Lilith rolled over to face Lucifer’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there. This wasn’t a surprise. She noticed he never fell asleep at any point, always seeing his glowing eyes piercing the darkness whenever she woke to adjust her position. At some point, Lilith noticed him leave in the middle of the night. She thought he was just going out to clear his thoughts and then come back as he often did. Sometimes just talking about the nightmares wasn’t enough for him anymore. But it looked like he didn’t come back at all this time. 

She sat up, and noticed he left her a note. 

“Lilith, my love, I’ll be in the garden.”

Lilith got up from bed, and got dressed. Something had been irrevocably changed, and she wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. Making sure the demons stopped harassing them, sure, that was good she supposed, but at what cost had it come?

___

Thank you again OP!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

My dear Lucilith fandom.

This. Is. A. Must-READ:

Prequel by Keet126 on ao3.

@keets-writing-corner wrote such an epic on how everything went down with Lucifer, heaven and eden... how hell came to be and was shaped, the sins, the Ars Goetia... how Lucifer and Lilith got together and supported each other through all that happened to them... why Lucifer lost all faith in sinners and so much more......

I just finished it and WOW. I can't describe my feelings. I have no words. THE LORE! The ABSOLUTE ADORABLE sweetness that is Lucilith in this fic.... I can't... I just can't. This might as well be canon.

Please check it out, I beg you. It's SO worth it! ;♡;

[hotched]

To Be Loved Like That

Requested by @her-storybooks - One reading a book or scrolling through their phone in bed, only to be distracted watching the other get ready for bed after a shower. Like drying their hair, putting on moisturiser. Just being hypnotised by their movement

Masterlist for Small Moments Series

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Aaron curses, general steaminess (hehe)

A/N: this one was so hard! I kept re-writing it over and over again and finally just let the story lead itself. It’s not quite what you requested but I hope you like it all the same!!!

Gif credit to @eprcntiss

It was your favorite time of day.

Jack was in bed, asleep after a long day of running around at the park. Aaron wasn’t home but his last text said he would be soon so you knew you’d get to sleep next to your husband tonight - a luxury you had missed this week while he’d been away for a case in Ohio.

Both of your boys being occupied meant you could take a long shower. The hot water felt good against your skin, soothing muscles you had overly exerted while playing with the little one earlier in the day. You stood under the spray and let the pelting water massage your skin for as long as you could before the water turned cold. Getting out, you wrapped a towel around your body and strolled over to the sink to start your nightly routine. You were drying your hair, getting ready to put product in it when you started to hear noises in the bedroom.

Tightening the towel around under your arms, you walked quietly over to the door and pushed it open quickly. Aaron would later swear that he didn’t jump but you saw it - a very small, hard to see jump but it was there.

“Hi honey,” he greeted with wide eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly in his throat. You laughed at his reaction and walked over to him. He perched on the edge of his dresser and pulled you into a warm hug. You felt him nosing at the side of your head and could feel as he took a deep breath, some of the tension in his arms easing after breathing you in.

“I almost missed my favorite part” he mumbled, lips pressed against your hair as he continued to take in the smell of your shampoo and conditioner. He had admitted early on into your relationship that the fresh eucalyptus scent was his favorite and that he loved to watch as you put the products into your hair and brush it out after a shower.

You rolled your eyes at his whining and started to unbutton his shirt, “well then you better hurry out of these clothes and into bed.”

“Yes ma’am” he remarked with a wink, stripping off his pants and sliding under the covers to the middle of the bed. He was propped up against the pillows, arms under his head as his eyes followed your every movement. You rolled your eyes again and sauntered back to the bathroom to get your hairbrush.

Walking back to the doorway so your needy husband could watch, you flipped your head forward. Your hair fell as you squeezed a quarter sized dollop of product into your hands and started to make your way from the middle of the strands to the end. As you worked the conditioner in, you started humming quietly. You could feel his gaze on you but ignored it as you walked back into the bathroom to grab the last of your hair care products and squeezed the product into your warmed hands. You rubbed it together as you walked back out to your dresser and sat against it as you worked the product into your roots. Your dresser sat against the far wall under the tv which left you in Aaron’s direct line of sight. There was something so magical about the way he watched you, his gaze full of love as he left a trail of fire on every inch of skin he caressed. If he asked, you would swear it was the cool air on your wet hair that caused you to shiver but somehow Aaron always knew.

You rubbed the last of the product into your hair and grabbed the bottle of lotion along the back of the chest. When you had finished the song you were humming, you turned to look up at your husband.

“How was the case?” You asked, bending down to rub the lotion into your legs in long strokes. Your fingers pressed firmly into your muscles, using the moisturizer as a lubricant to work out some of the knots formed in your upper calves.

“What case?” He commented, eyes moving up your body to meet your own as he realized you had stopped moving. One side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, pulling out a dimple as he realized he had been caught ogling.

“I’m -” he started to say as one of his hands scratched at the back of his head making him look much younger.

“You’re not sorry” you cut him off with a laugh, your smile causing the other corner of his mouth to turn into a wide grin.

“I’m not sorry” he agreed, eyes never leaving your legs as his worshiping gaze traced the skin he would later adore with his hands and mouth.

You continued to giggle as you quickly repeated the process with your arms before dropping the towel to get your stomach.

A strangled moan came from the bed as you kept your head ducked and your cheeks heated up. No matter how long you had been together, you would always be caught off guard by how much he loved every part of you. You quickly turned and darted into the closet, pulling on a pair of underwear and one of his old college t-shirts.

His eyes continued to follow your movements as you walked up to the edge of the bed and crawled over to him. As soon as you were close enough, his arms shot out to pull you into his lap. One of his hands found your hair, weaving his fingers through it until he held your head firmly in his grasp as the other wrapped around your waist and held you close. His grasp on your head pulled you to him as he slotted his lips firmly against yours. Matching moans left both of you the moment that your lips met. You felt yourself melt into his lap as he continued to show you how much he missed you.

When you were both breathless, you pulled your head back to rest your forehead against his. Your noses brushed together as his breath came out in pants wafting across your sensitive lips.

“Fuck” he breathed out, eyes crinkled with the wide smile on his face. Your answering laugh was music to his ears as you leaned up to softly kiss the tip of his nose.

“I love you” you whispered before burying your head in his neck and taking a deep breath. He may have loved the fresh, minty scents you kept for his pleasure but to you, nothing beat the aroma of Aaron - the caramelized, nutty scent of the coffee he drank all day and the light cedar smell of his paperwork. There was something so soothing about those smells combined together, something that would always remind you of midnight kisses and just how much you are loved.

Tag list:

@allthefandomstogether

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God: Chapter 22

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Summary: The only coping mechanisms she knows are self-destructive, and the world is slowly spiraling out of control. Matt offers himself to take the edge off. He is her personal drug, one she doesn't have to feel guilty about taking. In the wake of intimacy, moments of vulnerability are meant to ensue.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), mutual masturbation, face-sitting, switch!Matt, praise, pain kink, degradation, (one) face slap™️, angst, hurt/comfort, Matt is a bit sad in this one

Word Count: 12.2k

A/n: Matt Murdock cries before and after sex, but never during sex. During sex, he has a fucking job to do. That’s the mantra I kept telling myself while writing this... ALSO 53 FOLLOWERS WTF?!?!?! THANK YOU GUYS?! This is crazy thank you so much!

Read Chapter 22: mirrorball Here on AO3!

The faceless man bumped his shoulder into hers. She stared after him, but he had no eyes, he was empty, and the people around them were wearing masks that could have easily been found at a Mardi Gras parade. They inched in on her, forcing her into a circle. She couldn’t escape. They were after her. And suddenly, he had a face. The familiar face came straight from the paper file, and it made sense. The familiar voice, the eyes, the lips. The puzzle clicked into place. She caught sight of the finished picture covering the ground like a carpet, though upon further inspection, she found the face once again blurred out. The ground shook, the pieces fell out of place and she stood there, ankle-deep in the shards of her twisted memory.

Eliza woke up in a sweat. Her heart pounded. The wheel in her brain kept on turning at a speed too fast to have been human. The arm he had draped over her frame didn’t move. Matt’s face nuzzled into her neck. His soft snores filled her ears. He was out cold. Other nights, he would have woken up if she had just breathed funnily, but not this time. He made a subconscious noise of disapproval when he lost the comfort and warmth of her body. She tucked the covers under his chin, feeling the goosebumps beginning to form, and she slipped out as quietly as she could. 

She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Her heart kept pounding. She went into the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water, and she hoped it would somehow fix the burning in her chest. It didn’t. She tried coffee, but that also didn’t work, it made the spike in her blood pressure only worse. The last choice was her least favorite - she reached into Matt’s liquor cabinet and pulled out the bottle of Scotch. She poured herself half a glass. The liquor tasted bitter on her lips, burning her tastebuds. It felt so good, too good. She wasn’t supposed to do this. Eliza had great sex with the most handsome man on earth, she wasn’t supposed to crave alcohol after that. Yet, she did, and she went with the harsh voice in her head that wanted more than Scotch but was satisfied with the drunken high anyway. 

She opened the scanned blueprint on her laptop. Legs pulled up to her chest, fuzzy socks on her feet, and the glass of Scotch in her hand - she realized, a glass was stupid, so she picked up the used coffee cup and poured the liquor into it. Coffee Scotch. That was disgusting but got the job done. 

Eliza sat there and analyzed the blueprint, googling building structures in all fifty States. She cross-referenced every little piece of information she could find. The files weren’t of much help and retracing Pfeiffer’s steps led her to a thousand dead ends. She had millions of pictures in her mind, neither connected by the same red thread they had found in the storage unit. All the while the face of her father lay next to her laptop. 

The whole apartment was covered in pictures and post-it notes, her desperate attempts to make sense of the countless possibilities, ideas, and thoughts rushing through her mind like cars on a highway in the middle of the night. The lights blinded her, causing her head to implode. 

The same outline as the old White Room, similar to the architecture of Robert Pfeiffer’s lab, but the blueprint was still unique in itself. Hydra had made progress, great progress even. There was so little yet so much embedded in that blue piece of paper. She hated that she was no further than she had been three hours ago when she started. 

The floorboard creaked. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Matt stood in the doorway, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s, like, four in the morning.”

“Three-forty-eight. And I’m working,” she said, unbothered. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Slightly buzzed.”

He sighed.

“I know what you’re gonna say. Save it. You can go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I’ve found something.”

Matt lowered himself to the armrest of the couch with a sigh. “Talk to me,” he said. 

“What?”

“Tell me what you‘ve got by now. If you’re gonna do this, at least let us do it together.”

Eliza shook her head. “I can do this alone, thank you.”

“Yeah, but you won’t. You’re not gonna do this alone.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this is not something you can help with.”

“Why?”

“Because…” she was at a loss for words. There were reasons, had to be, but she couldn’t voice them. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You weren’t there, Matt. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, so you either talk or you don’t, either way, I’m gonna stay right here.” 

She placed her hands down on the blueprint, holding the edges flat against the wooden surface. Her head made a silent motion to come here. 

Matt stood behind her, one hand hovering above her back, the other finding itself guided to the paper. There was no Braille, no ragged edges, just paper. Still, she took the time to move his fingers along with her words, helping him to draw a mental picture. 

“It’s like four boxes placed offset,” she stated. She drew four squares with his index finger, attached by the corners but not on the same level as the other. “No layers, just one ground floor stretching over several buildings laid out like a maze. High walls, broad hallways, no windows with a big area of nothing around the whole construct, most likely protected by some sort of metal cage that functions as security.” At last, she drew an even bigger square around the outlay. At each point of security, she pressed the calloused tip of his finger down.

His breathing came shallow and flat, her proximity clogging his mind. “Why four?” he questioned.

“Medical facilities,” – she guided his hand to the first square – “Dormitories, playgrounds here,” – she moved on to the next – “Teaching grounds right here,” – she landed on the last building – “And personnel only. It’s where the technical stuff happens,” she said. “You start at the medical facility and eventually graduate to building number four. That is if you survive.” His finger traveled the mentioned distance. 

“How do you know?”

“I traveled the same distance once when I was a kid. I don’t remember much, but I’ve seen enough pictures after I got out to have every last room memorized.” 

“And where is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“No coordinates?”

She shook her head. “Only measurements.” 

“Okay,” Matt nodded, “Explain to me what you have so far.”

“Matt, I-“

He grasped her chin between two fingers. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said. 

“Maybe I want to,” she breathed.

“Do you?” Her heart skipped a beat. “‘Cause I can tell you’re lying to me. I just want to understand why.”

Eliza’s eyes flickered between the picture of her father, Viktor Volkov, Ivan, Robert, the Hydra symbol, and the blueprint. Viktor could be found at the top, but Hydra was the center of it all. Somehow her father played into it, she had dreamt about him, but none of the crumbs made any sense whatsoever, and the clues didn’t connect either. 

“There is no why. I’m not lying to you.” 

“I think you’re wrong.”

“I’m just…”

“Scared?”

She shuddered. Her physical response was his answer, even though she shook her head. 

“You don’t have to be, not with me, you know that.”

She turned out of his grasp, only for him to reach for both of her cheeks next and pull him flush into his chest. 

Eliza choked up. “Matt, please, don’t,” she said. 

“Hey,” he breathed gently, touching his forehead against hers, “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I just want you to be okay, and I can tell that something happened, so I want to help you. Don’t push me away, baby.”

“I can’t…”

“Whatever you need to get the edge off, I’m here. I’ll give it to you, but I’m not gonna watch you hurt yourself.” 

“I just…” she wondered how he knew. It had to have been her heartbeat. She couldn’t bear his touch, so she stepped away, stumbling back into the back of the couch. “I had a dream- I had a dream and it freaked me out.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t even- I don’t remember. I know what I saw but it doesn’t make sense, and all of this doesn’t make any sense either. I thought it would help, but it only makes everything so much worse. I’m so confused, Matt,” Eliza caved into herself. She landed on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest, and the world spun out of control. “My head is spinning and I feel like the whole world is collapsing around me and I just can’t… I can’t stop it. The spiral just keeps going and going and going and-” 

He knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. 

“No, I’m not… I need to… I can’t do this, Matt. You can’t just touch me like that and think it’s gonna fix anything. It fixes nothing, it just makes everything worse because you confuse me, too.”

“I confuse you?” he asked. 

“Not you! This. You and me. It is so confusing. I thought it’d help me get my mind off of things, but now I can’t stop thinking about us while everything else is turning to shit and I’m starting to wonder, what if we collapse? I can’t control this. I can’t. And I know that if I lose the only thing keeping me sane right now, I’ll die.” 

She didn’t fight when he hugged her. She clung to the back of his shirt like a scared child and he cradled her head like the protector he was. 

Her breath shuddered. “You should go back to bed,” she cried. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“If you won’t go to bed, I won’t go to bed, that’s the deal. You need me, so I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you need sleep.”

“You need sleep too, and I don’t see you jumping on the mattress anytime soon.” Matt moved her head so he could hold her only a few inches away. She wouldn’t dare to look at him. “I’m here,” he said. “Not going anywhere, you hear me?”

She nodded slowly. 

“Tell you what, I will make us some tea and then we’ll stare at the wall until you know what it is that you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“C’mon.” 

He sat her up on the counter, realizing she wasn’t willing to speak yet, but at least she stopped crying. She watched him move carefully, feel the labels on the box where he kept the tea, touching along the marble to find the kettle. He moved so effortlessly yet carefully. His sightless eyes moved all over the place. When he realized she was watching him, he smiled softly. 

“What?” he asked. “You okay?” 

She shrugged, hands rubbing against each other. When did the weather change so drastically? And didn’t he own a heater? It surely felt like he didn’t. 

“You’re just too good to me, is all.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.” He slipped between her thighs, taking her hands. “Oh, you’re freezing. Here.” He slipped out of his sweater, revealing the white shirt underneath. “Raise your arms.”

She snuggled into the soft fabric, enjoying the way it felt against her skin. The sweater smelled like him. Her hands disappeared in the sleeves. 

“Thanks,” she muttered. 

“Now, do you want honey or sugar?”

“Honey. One tablespoon, and some milk, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. You don’t have to ask.” He stirred the tea with the ingredients she mentioned, handing the beverage over to her. The mug was warm, helping her freezing hands regain feeling. 

She eyed him. “Aren’t you cold?” 

“No.”

“I don’t know why I asked. You’re a human radiator.”

Matt laughed. “You want me to warm you up?”

“No, your sweater’s fine,” Eliza said. “Thank you.”

“Alright.”

She played with the hem of his sweater absentmindedly as she sipped her tea. He leaned against the counter next to her, his hand scratching her back. He meant it when he said they would stare at the wall until she was ready. The silence was comfortable. 

Her head dropped to his shoulder. Almost on command, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing his nose into her hair. 

“Can we move to the couch?” she asked then. “My ass still kind of hurts.”

He choked on his tea. “Yeah, we can do that,” he said. 

The leather felt much better on the bruised skin than the sturdy surface of the kitchen counter. Matt patted his lap. “C’mere.”

She sighed and laid down, head in his lap and arms crossed to keep the warm inside of the sweater pressed to her cold skin. He tangled a hand in her hair, stroking her like a little cat. She resembled one, purring contently as he moved his fingers along her scalp. 

Eliza watched him. It was creepy, she had to admit, but the man was mesmerizing. When the world went quiet and he was lying there, relaxed with a steady heartbeat and breathing pattern. She ran a hand through his messy brown hair, over his face, and back down over his neck. 

“I can feel you staring, you know,” he said. 

She traced a finger over his eyebrow. “Really, what’s it like?” she said. 

“Very distracting.”

She smiled at him. Her finger kept drawing shapes all over his face. “You have freckles,” she pointed out. “I counted them. You have at least twenty on your nose.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. And there is a slight crook in your nose, it’s perfect. Your eyes, they’re a mix of brown and green. In the sun, it’s like honey, a lighter shade of brown. When you’re angry, they remind me of hazelnuts. Other times walnuts. But when the light is right, I can see the green specks in your irises.”

He chuckled softly. “How long have you been watching me, exactly?” 

“Some time,” she admitted. “There is just a lot about you that amazes me.”

“Yeah, what else? Describe it to me.”

“Well, your lips for example. They’re soft, both equally as plump and they curl into that little smirk that I like so much. You should use chapstick more often though ‘cause sometimes they look cracked.” She touched his lips. “And you have these little wrinkles at the corner of your eyes-” she moved on, “from smiling, even though you don’t smile a lot, which makes me think you used to smile and laugh way more often.” His eyes fluttered shut. “There are also two perfectly good dimples that show best when you fully laugh at something, it’s like the sun comes out whenever you do.”

Eliza noticed the lines on his forehead, deeper than usual. “Have I mentioned your hair?” she moved her hand to the said part of him. “It’s brown with some tints of red in there, but it’s mostly dark, like the rest of your body hair.” Once again, she imagined him with chest hair and her mind went blank. “You know, on your arm, there is this one vein, which travels from your shoulder, down your bicep, and over your forearm,” she said, tracing that particular blood vessel with her finger. “They even bulge on the back of your hands. It’s honestly quite distracting, especially when you clench your fist around your cane,” and she took his hand. She knew the next words were going to make him feel vulnerable.  “Oh, I almost forget your scars. I think they’re the most beautiful part of you. Your scars tell the story of so many saved lives and… it shows that you’re human, like everyone else. When I run my finger over them-” so she did; though covered by the fabric of his shirt, she knew exactly where they were. “I can see what you did to get them and I have the utmost respect for you, Matthew, for all the things you did just to protect Hell’s Kitchen.”

By the time she finished, he was crying. Her face fell. “Hey,” she propped herself up on her elbow on his thigh. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“Then what is it?”

She tasted his tears when he kissed her. It was a loving kiss. He poured all of his emotions into her mouth, moving them slowly against hers. His hands traveled over her sides, holding her face. She wrapped her hands around his neck. 

Matt reached under the hem of her shirt. She sat up in an instant, throwing her leg over his lap. He continued slowly making out with her as his gentle touch moved over every inch of skin he could find. 

Something about her appreciating and seeing everything, all of him, made him feel too much at once.

“I can feel that you’re conflicted,” she breathed into his mouth. “But I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He chased her lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He kissed her. 

Her hand landed on his chest. The warmth filled his veins. He opened his heart and soul to her and she reached for it, analyzing the whirlwind displayed in his obvious body language. She sighed at the amount of adoration for her that filled him, sucked in by her powers, and transferred to her brain, releasing several kinds of endorphins. 

The pair was lulled into a faint, red silhouette. Bright light surrounded them. It wasn’t the billboard, unlike many other times. That night, it displayed mostly purple rays of artificial light. What consumed them was the raw amalgamation of emotions seeping out of her in a charge of power. As he kissed her, his emotions mixed with hers, creating a blanket over their heads. A protective shield only meant for them. He couldn’t see it, but the warmth caressed his veins. The comfort made his skin tingle as her magic ran over the small hairs on the back of his arms. He felt the sudden urge to be even closer to her, have her swallow him, and carry him around with her everywhere she went. 

The apartment around them disappeared. Eliza had no control over what happened. The curtain closed over the furniture and instead, the universe looked back at them. Stars, planets, and the night sky. It was almost like a Diashow made out of the personification of emotions and unspoken feelings. So many different colors exploded, painting the world in the entire color wheel. They erupted around them as if the light just broke through church windows. 

She realized his veins were glowing underneath her hand where they lay against his cheek. His eyes had the same color, hooded and ready for more. He was mesmerized, the world appearing ephemeral. She stared through the window of his soul and his soul stared back into hers. Her reflection danced off the red in his usually so brown eyes. She had connected them in some way, a way she couldn’t quite understand, and now the world was crumbling around them as reality changed to fit what they needed. He was her world and she was his. They craved serenity, the world disappeared only for a bit, sometimes in which they didn’t have to think about anything but themselves, so she simply made the world disappear. 

He groaned. She wasn’t sure if it was pain or pleasure but considering he bore half of the energy emerging from her veins and his senses were heightened, making the experience stronger beyond compare, she went with the former option.

She gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She released his face, instantly removing herself from his lap, and plopped down on the couch beside him. The world snapped back to normal. The universe disappeared. “I don’t know what happened, I lost control, and I… God, this shouldn’t have happened.”

Matt blinked to get rid of the fog in his brain. “What’re you talking about?” he asked. His hand searched for her. 

“No, I hurt you.”

“No,” he shook his head, “far from it.” He pulled her back into his lap. 

“But you groaned, I…”

He chuckled softly, nodding down to his lap. “I want more.”

Her mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’ as she stared at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. Sweat coated his forehead. She hadn’t realized how strong the connection was. They were dependent on each other’s touch. She took off the sweater she wore, suddenly too hot in his presence. The light of the billboard reflected off the sweat on her forehead and the swollen skin of her bottom lip.

“I need to get the edge off,” she said. 

Matt hummed, slipping his hand into her pants (his boxers), but she stopped him. She fell on her knees between his spread thighs. He shifted, hair a mess and cheeks flushed, frowning a little at the change of scenery.

“What are you-“

“Trust me, as much as this looks like I’m doing it for you, I most certainly am not.”

Words weren’t needed as she kissed along the outline of his sweatpants before pulling them down, followed by a silent demand to take his shirt off. He complied. He let her have her way. This wasn’t about him, she was right, even though it excited him that this was something she would choose to take care of herself. 

He threw his head back into the cushions, bucking his hips against her face. The gentle kissing along the clothed outline of his cock sent shockwaves through his body. Her nails dug into his thighs. He whined. She continued agonizingly slow until she finally undressed him completely and sucked his hard cock into her mouth. She started with the head, and she chose to stay that way, suckling on his weeping tip.

He searched for support on the armrest. She didn’t warn him, she just moaned before sinking completely. He choked on nothing. 

“Fucking- God!” His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

She sighed at the soft tune of his voice in her ear. Still, she didn’t pick up the pace. 

“This is torture. Please, do something. Fuck! I can’t… I can’t take this.”

She pulled off. “Too fucking bad, Matthew. I need to be in control right now so be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She blew cold air over his cock. 

He hissed. “Ah!” One of his hands reached for her hair, but she slapped it away. 

“No touching.”

“But-”

“No.”

Matt’s lips parted in a pathetic whimper, throwing his head back into the back of the couch as her mouth opened and she took his entire cock back into the tight confines of her throat. Much to her surprise, he kept his hands to himself, and the sounds that came out of him sounded like an angel’s choir to her ears. She figured he had a submissive bone in his body, catholic guilt and all, but this was something she hadn’t seen coming. Him surrendering himself completely, following her demands without a second thought, and she surprised herself at just how much it turned her on. 

He rested heavily on her tongue. Her mouth was full, incredibly so, and he tasted like the most sinful heaven. The noises he made distracted her from the whirlwind of thoughts in her head. She was high off of him. So beautiful, she thought, looking up at him through hooded eyelashes to find his head thrown back, lips slightly parted and his bicep straining with the hold he had on the leather couch. The vein she had mentioned before stood at full attention, a delicious swollen part of him, but nothing like what she had in her mouth. She felt him twitch in the back of her throat and she stilled, pulling off. She returned to pressing small kisses to the head of his cock, dragging her tongue through the slit and down his shaft, paying close attention to the bulging veins. 

He whimpered. His nails dug into the couch. His thigh shot up. He was trying so hard to control himself, but it was hard, harder than him. Nails raked over his sensitive skin, up his chest, and over his nipples. She gave them a harsh tug, causing him to cry out at the overstimulation, the mix of pain and pleasure that went straight to his cock. 

Every time he walked the edge, she pulled away. She kissed his thighs, waiting for his breath to calm, then sank back down on him. He felt the stars erupt behind his sightless eyes, the fog in his brain threatening to render him completely useless. 

Matt tried his hardest to be good, and he did, but as soon as her hand started jerking him off as her mouth dropped lower to funnel with his balls, he was done for. He lost hold of the leather and grabbed a fistful of her hair, which caused a surprised yelp out of her mouth, and he pushed her all the way down on his cock. 

He shouldn’t have done that. Eliza was strong, she just hardly showed it. She bucked against his hand, moving away completely. She stood several feet away from him now, his chest heaving with the loss of her warmth, cheeks flushed and he knew he had messed up.

“What did I tell you?” she asked, the scent of him filled his sensitive nose, and he could taste her saliva mixed with his pre-cum on his tongue. He licked his lips. The air was thick with the scent of both of them. “Matthew, what did I tell you?” her voice dropped an octave. 

“To- to keep my hands to myself. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Your mouth… God, you feel so good. Please, come back. Come back here, right now!”

“You’re not in the position to make demands.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t sweetheart me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.” Just like that, he fell to his aching knees. “I will do anything. Just please, let me touch you.”

Her breath shuddered. Damn. Seeing him so desperate was something else. She reveled in the power, the feeling of absolute control over the usually so dominant man before her. It was the one thing she could control, his pleasure and her own. He gave her the reins, willingly submitting himself to her. He wouldn’t have done this for just anyone. Just like her, he liked to be in control, and he did so often. The things he couldn’t control, he made up by controlling everything else. He knew what the feeling was like and it was hot, to experience her like this. Nothing could match up to having her writhe underneath him, but she had rendered him mindless already, and he hadn’t even come yet. 

Eliza contemplated, then took his hands to guide them to her torso. “Only above the waist,” she told him. 

He sighed. Tears pooled in his eyes, tears of relief. “Thank you!” His desperate fingers traced every sliver of skin he could find. 

“Take my shirt off,” - he scrambled to get to his feet, but she pushed him back down - “No, stay. Gotta make sure you don’t get the idea to touch me anywhere else by overpowering me.”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you would.”

Yes, he would.

Once her shirt was off, he grabbed her hips, moving on to her tits, cupping and squeezing him until she was panting. His lips traced around her belly button, nibbling at the skin. Every time his hands threatened to slip slower, she pulled at his hair and he stilled his movement. 

The wetness pooled inside the boxers she had borrowed from him. He paid such close attention, she was beyond turned on. For a second, she considered caving in and asking him to take her to bed, fuck the living shit out of her until she couldn’t think anymore, and then give her another four orgasms just for the thrill of it because that man knew how to work in bed. She didn’t though. She pulled his face away from her skin, staring into his hooded eyes, those beautiful brown eyes that made her heart swell, and she leaned down to kiss him. 

“Would you mind taking my pants off, Matty?” she asked sweetly, though her tone made him whine. 

He nodded eagerly. Without a sound, he pulled off his boxers. Her scent hit his nose full on, her crotch right in front of him. He couldn’t help it, he moaned in the back of his throat, touching his lips as her taste overwhelmed his senses. He could taste her wetness on his tongue. 

She ran a hand through his hair. “You look so beautiful like this, you know that?”

“Mh-hm.”

“You want to taste me so desperately right now, don’t you?”

He nodded again. 

“Ask for it.”

“I…” he whimpered, “May I taste you, sweetheart? Please!”

“Mhhh,” she thought about it, “No.”

“What?” 

Eliza shoved him to the ground, sitting up against the couch. He gasped. The leather squished with her wetness as she lowered herself down, thighs on either side of his head, eyes pointing up. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear, smell and taste it and not being able to touch her was absolute torture. 

“You stay down.”

“Baby, please, no.”

Her finger started to play with her clit. He whined. 

“Touch yourself,” she said. “Do what I’m doing, let me watch you touch that pretty cock of yours. But you have to wait for me to give you permission to cum, can you do that?”

He could have burst right then and there, so when he nodded and agreed, he knew the probability of him failing her simple demand was high. 

“Good boy.”

He threw his head back in a wanton moan. “Sweetheart…” he removed his underwear completely, spitting into his hand and starting a slow, agonizing pace along his cock. 

“What is it, Matty?” she cooed. 

“I want to taste you. I need to.” 

“You can’t come like this, is that it?”

“No, I need you.”

“I’m here. You can smell me, can’t you? You can hear me touch my clit, and taste just how wet I am without even touching me. You know what you’re doing to me, what watching you do that does to me, so what else could you possibly need from me when I’m already so merciful?”

“I need to taste you, really taste you. Please, sweetheart. I’ve been so good.” His hand sped up, fisting his cock hard, rubbing his thumb over the weeping tip. He paused his begging to cry out. “I want to make you feel good. Want to be the one touching you. Need you to drown me in you. Just please, use me, sweetheart. Use me, make me suffer, anything but what you’re doing right now.”

“Wouldn’t that be a reward? Do you deserve to be rewarded?”

“Yes!”

She moaned at the sight of his abs flexing with the impending orgasm. He was jerking himself off so fast, she knew he wasn’t going to last long. The sound of her voice drove him into ecstasy. 

“You have been a good boy, haven’t you?” A hand started stroking his cheek. “So good you didn’t even realize how close you are just from begging me.”

“Oh, God.”

“What was that? Was that a plea? Or was it just blasphemy?” 

“Please, sweetheart. Can I…? Just a taste. Please.” 

“Mh-hm. I suppose you can.”

She pushed his lip down, sliding her finger into his mouth. Her taste exploded on his tongue. His back arched as his cum shot all over his bare stomach, white streams of thick liquid painting his skin. She swallowed his moan with her mouth, kissing him, stroking his hair. Replacing his hand with hers, she kept pumping his oversensitive cock. The orgasm dragged on for what felt like an eternity. The strokes began to grow painful. Tears coated his sweaty cheeks. 

He hissed. “Too much.”

“I know.” She didn’t stop. “But isn’t that what you do to me over and over and over again, until I’m crying for you to have mercy on me?”

He was already crying, but as long as he didn’t use the safe word (which was meant for the both of them) she wouldn’t stop. Her hand kept moving in painfully slow strokes, thumb rubbing the cum over his tip – he didn’t even have time to breathe, his cock remaining hard. He could already feel the second orgasm building up, draining him of energy. 

Eliza kissed his neck softly. “You can give me another one,” she didn’t ask, she stated. “And maybe then you can touch me.”

He took a deep breath. His ears were ringing, nose full of her and him, and he could feel even the last fiber of the ground under his clenched fists. Even the temperature of the couch seeped detailed into his burning skin. 

“Fuck.” She kissed him, at least some mercy in the wake of overstimulation. Though the gentle touches made it even worse. 

“I’m gonna use you as I see fit, Matthew,” she purred. Her hand suddenly disappeared. Slipping from the couch, she sank to her knees, situated between his spread thighs. 

He whined again, “Please.” Now that his body was ready, he couldn’t hold off, it was physically impossible.

She licked the cum off his stomach first. A lewd moan left her plump lips. “Wanna taste?” 

“Yes,” he said. She kissed him, mixing their arousal with her tongue. He moaned, in need of more. 

She resumed the movements of her hand only momentarily before she licked a long stripe up the outline of his cock. He whimpered, wondering when this torture was going to end. The attention to the most sensitive part of him, fondling his balls. He wanted to die. He was sure he died. Her thumb traced over the protruding veins, tongue dragging through the slit. She felt him twitch. He was holding on desperately, trying not to come too soon. Remarkable, she thought. Though he had suffered enough.

She sucked him into her hot mouth. He hit the back of her throat. His nails clawed into the leather, breaking it. Not a metaphor, he broke the material. One of her hands traveled up his chest, landing around his throat. He swallowed. No one had ever dared to do that before, even though he had hinted at the Mutual liking for choking before. No woman or man had ever tried to give it back to him, mostly because he often fell back into dominant patterns, eager to please not to be pleased. 

“Fuck, sweetie!” he choked out. “That’s so good, fuck! Doing so well.”

Screw him and his silver tongue. She squeezed her hand around his throat, blocking his vocal cords. The demand she uttered next was simple. “Cum,” she as much as growled, allowing him to release all over her bare chest. She coaxed him through it.

“You okay?” She removed her hands slowly. 

“I'm fine, yeah.”

She dragged a finger through his cum and stuffed it into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed around the digit. He grunted. She took his hand to do the same to his fingers, cum smeared all over them mixed with his saliva. She licked his palm slowly, cleaning every last inch with the tip of her tongue. “Hmm, you taste so good.”

Matt opened his mouth eagerly. “Fuck!”

“Yes, fuck indeed. And you know what? You’re free to do whatever you want with me now, as long as you remember you’re not the one in control.” He looked so good, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

He didn’t have to be told twice. She landed on the couch with a loud thud. He reached for her thighs, pulling her further to the edge where his head was resting. He leaned further back. “Sit on my face,” he said. 

“What?”

“I want you to sit on my face. I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. “I’m not… what if I’m too heavy?”

“Too heavy?” he laughed out. “You could never be too heavy.”

“I could suffocate you.”

“That would be an incredible way to go, but you won’t. If you haven’t by now, it probably won’t happen.”

“Matt, I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I can always grind you down on me and then it’s my turn to ruin you.”

She smacked his cheek. “No.”

“Ow!” He loved it. “Sweetie, please. Ride my face. Use me.”

She flipped around, knees on either side of his face. The position was vulnerable, knowing he could smell everything, feel everything and hear everything. She braced herself on the backrest. His hands splayed out on her hips, stroking over her waist. 

“I said sit,” he grumbled, “not hover. Do you need a dictionary?”

“Matthew,” she warned. 

“Frankly, I don’t care. You can punish me later. Sit. Down.”

She gasped loudly when he pulled her down on his face, tongue parting her folds while his nose nudged her clit. He dove right in, not giving her a moment to prepare. He fucked his tongue into her, moving his face back and forth, side to side, causing delicious friction to travel from her thighs to her cunt. 

“Jesus fuck!” One hand stayed on the back of her couch, and the other grabbed his hair, pulling him closer. Her cheeks were red, stomach heavy. She sat on his face, naked. She had never done this before. 

He moaned. “You’re thinking too hard. Take what you need,” he said. His breath was hot against her clit. “I want all of you. Please, give it to me.”

She nodded. Slowly, she began to rock her hips against his face. His eyes rolled back, nails digging into her hips. He guided her movements only slightly, feeding her confidence. His lips suctioned around her clitoris, applying sweet, torturous pressure on the sensitive nerve bundle. She should have made him suffer for mouthing off on her before, but she couldn’t think. He ate her out like a starved man. She was his last meal on death row and he wanted to make it worth her while. He didn’t stall, he just kept licking and sucking and licking and sucking while her hips followed the thrusts of his tongue, the friction of his beard and his nose against her clit, and just like that the orgasm built up at high speed. 

Her forehead pressed against the leather, lewd sounds escaping her lips. A hand traveled to her breasts, playing with her nipple, the other disappeared from her hot hip and slid down his body. He grabbed his cock, already hard again, and started stroking himself in time with the back and forth of her hips. His lips and tongue moved faster, feeling her muscles tense, her voice cracking and the wetness stream faster out of her and onto his tongue. He was in heaven, eyes rolled back so far, he could have sworn he reached his brain. 

She cried out when his hand found her throat, not entirely wrapped around her pulse point, but enough to squeeze tightly, hoisting her up so her back was straight and he could feel and listen to her accelerated heartbeat as he worked her closer to the edge. 

“Matt, I’m close,” she whined. “Don’t stop, fuck!”

He wasn’t planning on it. 

She ground harder on his face, the knot growing tighter and tighter and tighter until it suddenly snapped, causing her body to release an obscene amount of wetness and sounds as she came all over his face. He moaned against her, trapped against her cunt with her hand in his hair, thighs clenching around his head. The air was knocked out of his lungs, yet he kept sucking on her clit like a desperate bastard. 

She cried into the leather, chest heaving with breaths that wouldn’t quite come out. He flinched at the hand slapping his forehead, forcing him to let go. His eyes fluttered open.

“Stop touching yourself.” 

He only hesitantly let go of his cock. 

“Get up here.”

She moved off his face, allowing him to stumble on the couch, falling into the cushions. She was on his lap just as fast, engulfing him in a searing kiss. “I want you to fill me up, not that pretty little hand of yours,” she told him. 

Matt moaned at her sinful words. She lined his cock up with her entrance and sank completely, gasping. Her walls stretched. Somehow he fit better than in the beginning. She was starting to get used to him, although she stopped as soon as he was deep inside of her, catching her lost breath. His arm wrapped around her waist to hold her closer. 

“If, at any point, you feel the need to fuck me, do it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” That was something he could do. 

She smashed her lips against his, starting to rock her hips in a steady rhythm. She pulled off ever so slightly before bottoming out. He met her hips with soft thrusts, allowing her to circle her hips while also reaching the deepest, darkest parts of her tight walls. Neither of them was going to last long. The kisses were slow, sloppy, and messy at that, his thrusts uneven and her hips desperate in their motion. 

In one swift motion, he flipped her over. The sweat made her skin stick to the leather, but she couldn’t have cared less about the new angle he found. The couch was small and for a second she was scared he might send them flying to the floor. He set a slow pace, but his thrusts were deep. His cock managed to brush spots he hadn’t pushed into before and she slowly lost her mind. She held onto the armrest behind her head, hoping to find some leverage, while the other tangled in his hair where his head dropped into the crook of her neck. 

He panted into her skin, kissing and biting over her pulse point. He sucked hard, feeling the blood pool underneath the assaulted spot, turning purple. He did the same to her jaw, though he tried not to leave any marks on her face, which was hard considering she pressed her lips so hard to his, their lips might as well have split open. She bit his bottom lip, earning a groan. She tucked at his hair. The volume multiplied. 

Matt most definitely had a pain kink. 

He held himself up with one arm propped up on the armrest, the other wrapping around her throat. Her tongue traced that stupid vein on his bicep, gently biting down on it, just enough to make him know that he belonged to her. It was a loving way of marking him. His arm looked way too good, denting the leather, his bicep growing at least a size with all the flexing. She clenched around him. The sight of him was entirely too much. Her back arched off the couch and without any more stimulation, just looking at him basked in the purple light of the Billboard, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the hooded eyes so dark, she could see into his soul, was enough to make her come apart. Her muscles contracted around his overly sensitive cock and he moaned deeply into her collarbone.

“Fuck!”

She whined. 

Only a few more thrusts and he followed behind her, too worked up to care that he made quite the mess on the black of the couch as his cum filled her up and overflowed.

He changed his stance, shifting his weight to his forearm. He copied the movement of her hand in his hair, combing his fingers through the tangled locks standing wildly off her head. 

She grabbed his hips when he tried to pull out. “Stay,” she breathed.

He nodded. “Okay.” 

“Just want to feel you a little longer.”

“You can have me,” Matt whispered back, matching her tone. “All of me, all the time.” 

Eliza followed the dip of his skin around his spine with her middle finger, and she swallowed. “You know, there is such sad beauty in your vulnerability. Looks don’t matter, although you are by far the prettiest creature out there, your heart is set right, and that makes you so incredibly beautiful, I think a lot of people envy that.”

“Fuck,” he groaned against her neck. “Stop it! I’m gonna get hard again if you keep talking like that.” 

She broke into giggles. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I love hearing it. I just have to get used to... all of that. The kind words, the loving touches, the inhuman amount of attention you are willing to give me; everything you give me is just so overwhelming, I find it hard to breathe.” 

“I’m sorry.” Eliza kissed his temple, head now fully nuzzled into her neck. His weight rested on her like a blanket, but she wasn’t all too overstimulated this time, so she let him. It was his way of winding down, listening to her heart, and putting his mind at ease. “I’m sorry no one’s ever said that to you before,” she said. “‘Cause you deserve to be appreciated. You give so much, yet get nothing in return. I know your religion makes you want to put everyone before you and that’s remarkable, but who’s gonna take care of you?”

His shoulders tensed. He struggled to get a proper amount of oxygen into his lungs. With his head buried in her skin, he could hide what her words were doing to him, though as soon as the tears shot into his eyes, she knew. 

“You deserve to be taken care of, Matt. It’s not your job to take care of everyone. You’ll still have meaning, a purpose, and a place in this life if you look after yourself for a change. Listen,” she grabbed his cheeks and brought him face to face with her, the tears on full display as he struggled to keep himself from sobbing, “I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to take care of me all the time. New York can survive a few days without you. The world won’t end just because you decide not to be God’s strongest soldier for a day or two, or perhaps even forever. God will forgive you for choosing yourself. He’d encourage it. There is nothing wrong with putting yourself first. And please, if you need to cry, do it. I’m the last person to judge you for being vulnerable. You told me it’s okay to feel. Take your advice. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Maybe not all the time. More often than not, really, but this is hard on you too, and I’m so sorry for not realizing it sooner. You’re not okay. You can’t be. You don’t have to be. Please, let yourself feel whatever it is that you need to feel right now. I’m here for you.”

His head fell out of her hands, just below her chin, and he finally let the dam break. His sobs reminded her of the sky breaking apart. It was awful and painful to hear. Her heart shattered. She wasn’t sure how to hold him without breaking him further. She wasn’t sure what he needed. She waited patiently for him to wrap his hands around her body, melting into her, before she returned the gesture. When she told him to let it out, she had expected a lot, just not this amount of excruciating pain tearing his soul apart. 

Eliza ran her hand through his hair. All she could do was repeat the same motion over and over again, followed by the softest shushes and sweet nothings into his ear. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re okay.” Her voice cracked, switching to a higher octave, and the tears stung in her eyes like hot chili peppers.

He wheezed, gasping for air. She turned his head a little so his nose rested in an oxygen-rich environment and not against her sweaty skin that turned even saltier in taste and smell with the ocean of his tears trickling down her chest. It wasn’t long before her own mixed with his, no longer able to stay strong. Seeing Matt cry would always break her just a little more. 

“Matt, breathe, please,” she found herself saying. 

He shuddered. “I can’t…”

“I know. Just try, please. For me.”

His chest heaved. Her hand on his back kept him grounded, pulling him away from the brink of insanity and into the safety of her arms. His sobs died into heavy hiccups before subsiding into hitches of breath. The tears flowed for just a little longer, pent up from all the stress and finally being able to flow freely without having to worry what others might think. It was just them. She held him through the aftershocks, until the worst was over, and even then she refused to loosen her grip, afraid he might find himself slipping away again. 

After a while, she heard him chuckle against her neck. 

“This is so embarrassing,” he said, voice muffled against her collarbone. 

She sighed. “It’s not.”

“Crying after sex… that’s pathetic.”

“I cried after sex.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” he huffed. 

“See? You can’t even find a good excuse for that flawed logic,” she said, hand stroking his hair back. He tilted his chin up slightly, sightless eyes moving around aimlessly, focused on a dead spot on the ceiling behind her. Eliza moved her hand from his hair to his face. She needed a better angle to kiss him, and even though his neck craned enough to pull painfully at his muscles; he let it happen. He melted into the kiss. “Your feelings are valid, too, Matthew. I’m gonna remind you of that as long as I have to for you to believe me.”

“I believe you,” he argued. 

She chuckled softly. “You believe me most of the time, just not with this,” she corrected his previous statement. “These are two entirely different things.”

Matt scoffed. “Why do I always end up in this position?” 

“In what position, exactly? Enlighten me.”

“A position in which you have to prove you are more emotionally mature than me. I know it’s true, but it still hurts my ego.”

“Well, I do have supernatural powers that make it possible for me to manipulate emotions, so I have a better understanding of the soul.”

“Yeah, but why do you have to be so smug about it?”

“I don’t know, maybe ‘cause I’m smarter than you.”

He laughed, tongue poking his cheek. For someone calling her smug, he sure did a good job at acting as such himself. “Smart, yes,” he said, and the second he opened his mouth she knew what came to his mind. He lifted himself to tower over her again. “Smarter? That’s to be determined.”

“Oh, really?” she cocked an eyebrow. 

“Mh-hm.” His cock swelled inside of her. 

She couldn’t help but giggle at his desperate attempts. “What are you-ah!” he thrust forward quickly, making her body jolt with the sudden surge of pleasure. “Matt, what is it with you and using sex as a - shit! - coping mechanism?”

“Says you,” he moaned into her ear. “I think we’re both desperate, that’s what makes this so good.”

He set a slow, steady pace. She hooked one leg around his waist, pulling him deeper into her tight cunt. 

“It is good, yes.”

“Mh-hm. Why would we ever stop?”

“Don’t know and don’t want to.”

He cradled her face as he kissed her, long and hard, his hips never faltering in their maddening rhythm. She panted against his lips, though he refused to let up. He held her close to him, impossibly close, and his mouth swallowed all the little sounds of pleasure erupting from her throat. He moved on to her cheek, her neck, then back to her lips. 

Matt’s voice resembled a skilled snake charmer playing his flute to manipulate the snake inside the basket to follow his every tune. He was hypnotic, to say the least. He knew how to use his words like the keys on a piano, stringing together one of the most beautiful melodies in the history of melodies. He had two sides during sex that often blurred together. He read the clues like Braille, easily figuring out which side to use in what situation. He would either completely degrade his partner until they were ashamed and crying, or he would use tons of praise to coax her into as many orgasms as he wanted. That was his goal, after all, to please his partner. The way he did it depended entirely on the mood of the situation. 

The jury was still out on what compelled him to use his silver tongue in the way he did this time. “Have I ever told you how good you feel?” he said. His cock brushed her sweet spot, directing every stroke there to savor every last moan she let out. “And your sounds, baby. God, I love those little sounds you make every time I do this.” 

She threw her head back. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Matthew,” she whined.

“What?”

“Fuck me.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “You are so needy.”

Though he didn’t hesitate to pull out, flip her around so she was on her stomach and thrust his cock right back between her folds and into her tight hole. Her lips parted, but the sounds got stuck in her throat. She spread her legs, tried to at least; he firmly forced them back together. 

“Keep them closed.”

The position made her cunt even tighter around him. Her velvety walls felt like a tailored glove around his cock. The intrusion burned. He didn’t have much space to move, so she could feel every vein and every last twitch as he thrust into her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he had bottomed out. He stayed there, buried to the hilt inside of her, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder blades and spine. A hand reached around her, pushing down on her lower stomach where his cock was pretty much visible, and pushed her hips back against his. Her back arched slightly. He kept her in place with his large hand, grinding her against him. 

She cursed. “God. Faster.”

“Patience, sweetheart.”

He circled his hips a couple more times, just until she had adjusted to the new position and the pain in her muscles subsided. Then, he finally picked up the pace. He picked up the speed of his thrusts, multiplying them. He guided the head of his cock against the same spot repeatedly, managing to stroke her g-spot and hit her cervix over and over again. She moaned, writhed, and cried, but it came all from a place of pleasure. 

Matt was pressed tightly against her back, only one hand holding him upright as he added more pressure to his thrusts. He reached for her wrists, crossing them behind her back. She groaned, her forehead being the only thing supporting her against the leather of the couch. 

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked. “For me to fuck you like this? To give back what you gave me?”

She nodded. 

“Words, sweetheart. Use them.”

“Yes! I wanted you to fuck me so badly.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about. I need you so fucking bad, Matthew.”

“Like this?”

“Harder.”

“Harder? Wow.” He sounded almost condescending with his laugh, shifting onto his knees, and he forced her on her knees before him. Her back was still lunged forward, held up in the air by his strong arms only. Her thighs burned. Full body workout. This was familiar, she thought. Her mind flashed back to the night before. 

Even though they were both kneeling, he forced her to keep her legs together. Her stomach bulged. He could feel himself moving under her skin. The overwhelming sensation of everything being so hot and tight almost made him lose it. “You are such,” he pounded into her, slapping her ass with every thrust, “a,” another one, “greedy,” another one, “Slut!”

She cried out. 

“Does that turn you on? Being my little, greedy cumslut?”

“Fuck!”

“Huh, what was that?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

She wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. “Fuck, yes, Matthew! I’m your slut. Only yours.”

“Mh-hm. Good girl.” He reached between her legs to play with her swollen clit. “I own you. All of this is mine. Your heart, your body, and this fucking pussy is mine too, understood? So you’re gonna come for me now, all over my cock, and I will give you what you want the most.”

She couldn’t speak. Her lungs caved in, eyes rolling into the back of her head. The hot pleasure shot straight to her cunt. She lost all self-control, letting go of the line that attached her to sanity. She allowed the bomb to explode and tear her whole body to shreds with one of the most intense orgasms he had ever managed to pull out of her. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Such a good fucking girl.” With another hard slap on her ass, he collapsed on top of her. She milked him dry, the spurting cum mixing with his previous release and causing even more of a mess. 

Her head was so far in the clouds, she only realized he was still circling her clit with his fingers when it started to hurt and she physically had to slap his hand away to get him to stop. He panted loudly into her ear, holding her tightly against him without placing his entire weight on her back. That hadn’t turned out so well before. 

He brushed her hair back. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

He turned on his back with her in his arms, repositioning her so she lay on his chest. He was still breathing heavily, his heart threatening to jump through his skin. 

Her cold finger traced the scars on his torso. Sweat had collected on the back of his neck, trickling down the front of his body. She caught it, already mixed with some of the leftover cum on his stomach. They needed another shower.

“Was that okay?” her voice was small when she broke the silence again. 

Matt frowned. “Okay?”

“Yeah, me treating you like that. I didn’t check in with you. I just…”

“It was more than okay,” he breathed out. “In fact, it was probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced you do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, just… don’t tell anyone this happened.”

She giggled. “Considering I don’t have anyone to talk to, you’re good.”

“I’m joking.” His hand trailed up her spine, goosebumps following his touch. “I think you were right. I have one or two submissive bones in my body.”

“One or two?” she teased. “Felt more like a thousand.”

“I don’t even have that many bones.”

“Exactly.”

“I suppose it’s the catholic in me.”

“The Catholic in you should be celibate.”

“Yeah, he can’t do that.”

“Mh-hm, I know.”

Matt’s phone suddenly rang out. Foggy, Foggy, Foggy! He sucked in a sharp breath, reaching beside him to feel for the device on the living room table. She made a silent gesture for him to lie back. 

Eliza climbed over him, grabbed the still-ringing phone, and handed it to him, lying back down on his chest to listen to his steadying heartbeat. 

He answered, “Yeah.”

She could hear Foggy’s faint voice through the speaker. A strand of hair got caught on her bruised lip, which Matt quickly brushed behind her ear, along with the rest of her unruly sex-crazed hair. She sighed happily, propping her chin up on his chest to watch him. He could feel her eyes on him, the look something else, something new. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could feel how the way she looked at him shifted every time her eyes met his. Something was different, and it wasn’t the sex. It wasn’t his comfort or the realization that they were closer to finding the truth than ever - there was something else entirely in her eyes and he felt a little uneasy, not knowing what it was. He usually did, but this time, he couldn’t pinpoint what happened. 

“Meet me at Josie’s in an hour,” Foggy said. 

“What?” He rubbed his brows. “Why would I do that?”

“Not you, the both of you.”

“Foggy-”

“Get her a hat and a hoodie. Josie isn’t gonna care. Hell, she does illegal shit all the time, harboring a fugitive should be the least of her concerns.” He swallowed something audibly sharp. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went to have a drink, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me, so I want answers. Right now. It’s almost morning anyway. I figured you’d be awake. Get your stuff and then come over! Don’t make me ask again.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Eliza sighed. “We’re on our way,” she said. 

“Do I even wanna know why she’s close enough to the phone to hear me?”

“Better not,” Matt smirked. 

“Man, I’m so glad I didn’t come over.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She slapped his chest. 

“I mean, we’re on our way. See you in a bit!”

Foggy didn’t say goodbye, he simply hung up with a scoff. Even several feet away from him, she could have heard. 

Matt’s smirk only grew wider, realizing she blushed. “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. 

“Shut up.” She got up, the leather peeling off of her like glue. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

His laugh followed her into the bathroom. She counted the seconds after using the bathroom - in peace this time - leaning against the cold shoulder wall with her arms crossed. 

“One, two…”

The door opened. Matt pulled the curtain aside, stepping in. The warm water instantly flattened his dark hair. He walked straight through the stream, engulfing her in a bone-crushing hug against his hard chest. 

“That was disappointing,” she murmured. 

“Why?”

“I thought it’d take you shorter than that.”

“Oh, so that one time I give you privacy, I’m taking too long?”

She playfully bit his nipple. “Don’t act as if you care about my personal space.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He kissed her. “But you also don’t care about mine, so we’re even.”

“True,” she took the shampoo bottle from the shelf, “Now get your head under the water so I can wash your hair.”

He was more than glad about the domestic offer. The exhaustion seeped into his bones. Her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp offered a welcomed relief to the tension in his shoulders. She made it all go away, just by taking care of him. She wasn’t big on words, but her actions spoke enough to make sense to him. 

She rinsed the shampoo out as soon as she was done, moving on to soak his body in soap. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he wondered out loud. 

“Like what?” she asked, a bit taken aback by that he could tell, but this was Matt for God’s sake. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he could tell the look in someone’s eyes just by analyzing their body language and physical clues.

“Like that,” he said. “The way you are right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s… soft, almost.”

She stopped soaping his chest. Her eyes flicked from his face to the shower wall, but he turned her head back with a simple finger underneath her shin. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re all done,” she said. “You should get out before your fingers get all wrinkly.”

“I don’t care.” He smiled softly at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just… I don’t know. I have no idea how I’m looking at you ‘cause every time I do, I’m just overwhelmed by all of the feelings I… feel.”

He hummed. “And you think I’m not?”

“I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“Except for me, it’s every time I hear your voice, smell your perfume, taste your lips, feel your skin…”

“Matt, what does that mean?” she desperately clung to his arms. 

He shrugged in response. “I don’t know. I’m just as confused as you are.”

“I’m serious. I need to know.”

“I wanna try this,” he admitted quietly. The sound of the water almost tuned him out. “When this is all over, I want to try this. I know we said this is one and done, but I’m not ready to let you go. Not yet, probably not ever, but we won’t know for sure until we try, and I want to. I want to try. I have to admit, I’m a terrible boyfriend, but I’m ready to try to be better for you. You made me believe that I can be a better man.”

Run. No. 

“I…” she eyed him, eyed his hands on her shoulder, the man he was. He was so beautiful, so perfectly imperfect, she never wanted anything more than someone like him. Someone who could hold her, give her advice and make her feel special. He did. He made her feel like she wasn’t broken, not anymore at least. He made her feel like she wasn’t alone, and he made her feel attractive, which meant a lot after spending years hating every little thing about herself. Not just her body but her mind, and he seemed to appreciate the latter even more. He listened, ready to hear out everything she said. He put her first and that was something she would probably never get from someone else. 

Matt’s face dropped a little. He couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. His fingers felt her facial features, but even those didn’t say anything other than deafening silence. 

“Eliza,” he said softly. 

“I’m not used to being put first,” she blurted. “I’m not and it’s probably not gonna be easy with me. I know it’s not. When you say you’re a bad boyfriend, well, I’m worse. I don’t know how to care for someone when I’m broken, and I am. I’m so broken, I shouldn’t even have let you kiss me in the first place, but I did because I wanted to. I still want to. It’s not gonna be easy, Matt. And it’s gonna hurt you. I don’t know how to feel. I either eat everything up or I spit it all out, feeling so much at once, I destroy everything around me because I can’t deal with myself. I do it all the damn time, so I know for a fact that I’m gonna ruin you.”

“So be it! Ruin me. I don’t care.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“You say you know you’re gonna hurt me, but because you know that, I know it’s not gonna happen. And even if you do, do you think I’d care?”

“That’s the problem. I know you won’t.”

“So what are you saying? Are you dumping me?”

“No,” she sighed. She took her face in her hands, nuzzling her nose against his. “I want to try. This isn’t a one-and-done. It was never bound to be this way. If there is one thing I know I want it’s you, but I can’t promise you that it’s gonna work out the way you want it to. I might not be the person you want and when the time comes, it’s okay if you leave. I often ruin things just ‘cause I’m scared. It’s what I do. I get scared and I hurt the people around me before they can hurt me. So I mean it when I say it’s okay if you leave, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“Everyone always does.”

“Well, I’m not everyone, am I?”

She choked out a broken chuckle. “I guess not, no.”

“Besides, you’re not the only one with abandonment issues. I get scared too,” he said, his voice soft as silk. “I expect to be hurt, so I don’t put effort into relationships. I push people away to protect them and it hurts them. I’ve hurt so many people, I lost count. But you’re not gonna be one of those people, and I’m not gonna leave you either if you promise not to leave me.”

“If it gets too much and I decide to leave you, Matt, what then?”

“You won’t.” He sounded far too convinced for someone who just heard the inevitable truth. “You know why?”

“Why?” she threw back at him, exasperated. 

His lips hovered above hers. “‘Cause you know me better than anyone, and you know that nothing could ever hurt me, except for you leaving. That’s the one thing I couldn’t survive. So tell me again, do you think I’d leave you when things get just a little harder than they used to be, which seems impossible considering how hard things are right now? When you turn out to be just a little more complicated, a little more messed up than you are right now? When I need to pick you up over and over again because you’re hurt, something that isn’t even your fault, even though you would do the same for me in a heartbeat? Do you think I’d just leave you when things get hard? Just ‘cause you’re not the perfect golden child everyone wants you to be? Do you think that? Is that how you think of me?” 

A tear slipped from her eyes and onto the already wet shower floor. “No,” she whispered. 

“We met under extraordinary circumstances. We came together during the trial of our lives - of your life. We are at war right now and still, we always find our way back to each other. I don’t know about you, but this seems like a damn good reason to stay. A chance like this doesn’t come to people like us. We’re too damaged, too broken. We usually don’t get happy endings, unless we meet a person that is just like us, and we did. I believe that. You have to believe that too. I want to try being with you and I will; no matter how hard you push me away, I will always stay right here. You won’t knock me off my feet. I won’t let you ‘cause I know you’d hold on just as strong if I ever tried to push you away for something that is just in my head. This life, it’s not in our control. Us? We can control that. It’s the only thing we have a hold over. Feel my heart,” he said, placing her hand over the left side of his chest. 

“Feel that? I’m alive and you’re alive. That’s real. The monsters in our heads? Not real. You were the one who taught me that, and I believe that now. I regained a hope I thought I’d lost, and that hope now entails you, all of you, even the broken, complicated parts. Especially those. ‘Cause what is life if not complicated? What are we if not complex creatures? That’s how God intended the human race to be, after all. I don’t give a fuck if you’re not perfect! No one is. Those who say they are, are just lying to themselves. It’s not real. You are. You’re real and that makes you so much more likable ‘cause raw emotion is the most human thing to have.”

She pulled down into an emotional kiss. Where words failed, she could pour all of her feelings into a single kiss and he would always understand. She knew he would. They were the same, he was right. There could never be someone more fitting for her than him, her missing puzzle piece. 

“What is more human than this?” he whispered against her lips. “What’s more human than being with someone you can be vulnerable with and they still take you for all that you are?”

“You sound like a pastor,” she said. Her nose moved in the opposite direction.

He pulled her closer by the back of her neck. “I know. I used to be one in my previous life.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“With pleasure.”

She giggled when his teeth dug into her shoulder, tasting the water of the shower mixed with her essence. “I said kiss not bite.”

“Just marking my territory,” he reasoned. 

“Your territory, huh?” She opened her mouth, landing her teeth right on his bicep. 

“Ow! I didn’t even use that many teeth.” 

“Don’t be such a baby, Murdock.”

Her back hit the cold shower wall. 

She gawked up at him. “I shouldn’t have said that, right?” 

Sheepishly, he shook his head. His strong arms pulled her flush against his wet frame. The water came raining down on them at just the right temperature. 

“No,” he murmured. “No, you shouldn’t have.” 

“Well, fuck.” 

She was in for a treat. 

[candymeowz]

OM!Characters Being The Little Spoon(?):

Satan, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and Solomon

Tw: None

Fluffy fluff fluff

You opened the door, having only finished your work, to see your lover lying on his side, a book left opened near his hand. Carefully treading through the room and avoiding the books scattered all over the floor, you neared his bed while floating candles emanates a soft glow to the room, filling it with warmth.

"Satan?" You called, carefully crawling onto bed only to find his eyes closed.

He must've read to sleep again.

You watched him for a moment, admiring the way his hair framed his face perfectly and how he looked comfy wearing the green hoodie you bought him. He's gorgeous.

Lying down next to him, you snuggled up to him, his back to your chest with your head nuzzling into the dip of his shoulder, hugging him loosely in your arms.

As if he could sense you, his hand found yours and he leaned back closer to you, enjoying the warmth you're exhibiting.

You fell asleep like that, with Satan comfortable in your arms, unaware of the comfort you're bringing him.

Belphegor had fallen asleep on the couch and you were too tired to carry him. Plus the fact you didn't want to disturb his peaceful nap... You brought a blanket and tucked it around him, returning to your shared bedroom not soon after.

You woke up in the middle of the night when you felt someone's stare.

Standing at the edge of the bed was Belphegor, eyes narrowed in the middle of the night as the blanket you had covered him with fell loosely over his body.

You almost screamed.

"You left me alone on the living room," he grumbled, laying on the bed with his back facing you.

You wanted to smack him.

But you didn't, of course, you're too sleepy to use much energy. Instead, you crawled over to him and enveloped him in your embrace.

"Sorry, didn't want to wake you up."

He said nothing, but he did reach hold of your hand, leaning his head against you before falling back into a peaceful slumber.

You joined him, but not before telling him how he's a brat.

He smirked in his sleep.

It's tiring. It's tiring to be a demon prince. With all the political relationships he needs to maintain and the responsibilities he needs to carry, his energy had depleted from all the meetings and paperwork he had to attend that day.

When he entered your bedroom, you had visibly brighten up as you met eyes with him, setting your DDD down on the bedside table and patting the empty spot besides you. He crawled into bed, dropping on top of you and letting his large body drape over yours.

He didn't even bother to change out of his day uniform, not that you mind.

With Diavolo nuzzling into your chest, you combed a hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Busy day, love?" you asked, the other hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

He hummed, eyes closed as he hears the rhythm of your heartbeat, letting it slowly lull him to sleep, feeling warm and at peace in your arms.

He'd give the world if it meant he could have you.

Barbatos didn't know how you two ended up like this. One moment he was wiping countertops in the kitchen and the next he was laying down in bed, face buried in your stomach with his arms wrapped around you, a sigh of contentment leaving his lips.

What charm did you use to be able to coax him into cuddling so easily?

It's always a mystery how you brought peace into his life, making him feel alive and not just a being that exists outside of time and space. Someone who's capable of love and be loved. Your existence in and of itself was a blessing he didn't know he needed.

You were tracing his arms, writing down a seemingly random pattern until he focused and realized you were writing the same three words, over and over again.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

He held you tighter, wishing this time could last forever, where nothing else exists, but you and him.

The second Simeon finished his manuscript, he had immediately tackled you and attacked you with kisses when you were reading, you giggling all the while as you coaxed him into bed with you.

"Want some cuddles?" you asked as you steadied your breathing from all the laughter he'd forced out of you.

He gave a small nod and laid on top of you, his head on your chest as he snuggled impossibly closer.

"Sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately," he mumbled, basking in your warmth and inhaling the scent of you.

You hummed, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

"It's alright."

He smiled, a small genuine smile, as he let the calmness of your presence wash over him.

"I love you, starlight," he said, tightening his arms around you.

You repeated the three words back to him and he listens closely to your heartbeat, glad to have someone he can call his.

You've known Solomon long enough to know he's not sleeping. He's very much still awake, though he's trying to ease your mind that he's capable of getting some shut eye after the failed experiment he'd been focusing on for the past few months.

"Solomon," you called, propping yourself on one elbow. He didn't budge, of course, keeping his eyes closed, breathing steady as he pretended to be asleep.

You narrowed your eyes before nearing him and laying back down, an arm around his torso with your legs entangled in his, burying your face in between his shoulder blades.

"I'm here for you, you know?"

He knows, and betraying his stance, he laced his fingers with yours and hummed a quiet affirmation; you tightened your hold on him.

He's glad to have you as his source of comfort.

A/N: Idk what I'm writing, Idk what I wrote, but have this for now while I work on the series.

Masterlist

[ichigomis]

hi rayray!! im a new follower and omg i absolutely love your writing!!<3 makes me feel all giddy inside😭💖

i was wondering if maybe i cld request for suna and/or mattsun with a med student s/o? you can add/remove characters as you please, i just need some dire comfort rn as a med student having it rough :^(

i hope you get this, thank you!!<3

—3:48 AM

suna squints and rubs his eyes as his vision adjusts to the sudden bright kitchen lights. his throat itches and his head is still a bit hazy with sleep when he suddenly stops and frowns.

"do you know what time it is?" he asks breaking the silence, voice hoarse and husky. you look up from your work, eyes tired and hair a disheveled mess, and offer him a weak smile.

of course you know what time it is. at this point, the clock on the kitchen wall feels more like a ticking time bomb constantly reminding you of the time you have left before your next deadline.

with a sleepy yawn, he slumps down the chair beside you, arms crossed over his chest. sprawled in front of him are your notes, some books, and your third cup of coffee—a telltale sign of yet another allnighter.

"go back to sleep, rin. i'll probably be here all night."

upon hearing you, he chuckles sarcastically and shakes his head, "you've already been here all night." he stands up and takes your already empty cup and moves to the counter, "lemme just stay here with you."

"what?" you look up from your work to look back at him. he's busy making you another cup of coffee in the middle of yawning and blinking his sleep away. he's obviously tired from the long day and needs his sleep, why would he stay now? "no, go to bed. i really am serious, i won't be finishing anytime soon."

but he only nods his head in faux understanding and walks back to the table. he sets the warm cup beside you, his own cup of coffee in his other hand. "and i am serious," he motions for you to take a sip, to take a break and you follow, "i'm staying."

and he does. he stays and patiently sits with you as you continue studying like normal.

he reads your notes, makes fun of your handwriting, and replaces your cup of coffee with water because "you need to stay hydrated and coffee is not doing that at all." he asks you about what you're studying only to mumble "nerd" once you start explaining and he reads from your books and purposely mispronounce words just to see you roll your eyes and smile.

he keeps you awake but more importantly, he keeps you company—making sure that you are not going through all this alone.

and now, just a few minutes shy from seven in the morning, he unintentionally sleeps. his arms rest on the table, cradling his head.

the kitchen is silent now like it was before he came in the middle of the night. and the morning sun is slowly peering through the windows, signaling yet another start of the day, though your day never really ended to begin with.

and as you put away the last of your things, you stare at him, his broad back comfortably rising and falling as he breathes.

you take the seat beside him and softly kiss his head, waking him from his sleep.

he shakes his head and lifts his gaze to you, eyes red from the little sleep he got but offering you the sweetest smile, "done?" he asks and you just simply nod.

with a yawn and a little stretch, he stands from his seat and takes your hand, leading you to the comforts of the bed.

there's little over an hour left before you have to get up and get going, but still, you let yourself relish in the warmth of the sheets and his body. "sorry i fell asleep," he whispers, eyes closed and half-asleep.

you shake your head against his chest and mumble, "you never left,"

and it's true. in the end, he did stay and to you, it meant more than anything. "thank you."

his eyes are heavy and he's slowly drifting into slumber, yet with what energy he has left, he smiles.

notes: hello! omg so this took me so long to do i'm so so sorry! but i hope everything's going well with med school and that you're taking time to rest up and take care of yourself :')

rbs are appreciated! *headpats* » m. list

[filipinoizukuu]

hello mr simp do you have any thoughts on the leeks 👀

FIRST OF ALL. THEY CAME SO FUCKING EARLY??? BRO I WAS ASLEEP

SECOND OF ALL

holy SHIT YALL

Okay, it's no secret that I'm an All Might stan. I LOVE All Might. Very very much. Not just as a simp, but genuinely, I enjoy his character SO MUCH.

--And unlike what some people may think, I'm not totally blind to his flaws. I know he sucks as a mentor and that he's done way more harm to Deku than good. He's.... not perfect. in every sense of the word. The whole point of AM's character is that he is a DEEPLY FLAWED individual— but at the end of the day, still good.

This new chapter gave me SOOO many new feelings. I'm not gonna lie to y'all and say I was a Stain apologist beforehand because I wasn't. I disliked Stain to a certain degree, but I also knew he was morally grey enough that I was able to still quite appreciate him as a character. This chapter was about EVERYTHING to me because I honestly did NOT expect Hori to go in this direction and for things to happen the way they did. It was too good to be true! Too fanfic-y! The disbelief I felt when I read what happened was on par with when Bakugou and Deku had that apology and kinda-hug in the rain!

But this disbelief is not because it was a bad thing.

I think the writing in Chapter 326 is phenomenal. The moment that All Might was really beginning to lose hope in not just himself as a hero, but himself as a PERSON... we finally hear the opinion of someone who would abso-fucking-LUTELY make or break the last of his spirit.

Stain is, as much as his views are pretty agreeable and his label is that of a vigilante, still a pretty shitty guy. He's tried to kill literal kids who got in his way, even if said kids made pretty dumb decisions. AM hearing what he has to say is absolutely mind-boggling to him because he knows all of that. He knows Stain is a shitty person and that his worldview is perhaps terribly skewed. He knows Stain has spent a hot minute frying his brains down in Tartarus and isn't good at making judgment calls. Knows that for all intents and purposes, Stain's opinions are not to be trusted.

But the thing is... Toshinori also knows that Stain, regardless of the soundness of his mind, is telling the truth.

Regardless of how fucked-in-the-head Stain is, we as readers are able to acknowledge that he isn't blinded by hero worship. Sure, he's bitter, cynical, and quite the absolutist--but Stain is still clear-headed enough to be able to see AM's flaws for what they are and accept them, ultimately proving to Toshinori that the power of All Might was never his own but rather the legacy that he inspired.

The society MHA takes place in is flawed. We all know this. Heroes, as a concept, had been corrupted into being purely about good and evil. Purely winning fights for money or fame or the abstract concept of victory (coughs Endeavor and the no.1 spot coughs), making heroism as we know it about flashiness and power instead of mercy and the desire to help others.

All Might symbolizes the ideal version of the Hero Society. He represents doing the best you can. Being a hero until you reach your limits, and then going even past that. He symbolizes pure intention and the desire to be a hero not for material gains but because of the pure want to make society a better and safer place. Stain refers to Kamino Ward and the statue as a "holy land" because he believes that through and through, AM's only had the purest of intentions and morals. To him, Toshinori was like a deity that had no fault in making society what it was in the present because that accountability fell on the generations of heroes that failed to fulfill his legacy.

The point being, Stain understood that All Might was fundamentally not about 'being there' for everyone 24/7, but rather the message his presence had sent.

All Might's monologue at the beginning of the chapter essentially boiled down to the ideas that:

A. He regrets not being there properly for Deku

B. His image was a delusion that ultimately led to the downfall of hero society.

To break this down, his problem with Deku is his inability to be a competent mentor. It shows that he has led him down dangerous and horrible paths (Deku's stubbornness to do things by himself and his 'dark' arc post-war), and is unable to bring him back into the light even if he tries. It was only when Class 1-A had intervened that they were able to get Deku to rest and let people tag along, after all, which is why Toshinori was far too embarrassed to follow him into UA's walls even after everyone had come out with umbrellas.

Stain disproves this in two ways.

First, he says that it was never about All Might's ability to actually be there for people. The whole point of what inspired Deku to be the inherently good-hearted "true hero" he is today is because of the values that AM's brand had instilled in him as a child. AM's biggest positive impacts came from behind the screen where he was used as the proof that true heroes can and do exist. Deku does want to be exactly like All Might, yes, which is why we see Toshinori leading him down the same path that he walked--but the underlying message of this is that the very first thing All Might gave him even before OfA was the courage to help fix society.

I do believe Deku is an innately compassionate person. Most people in the series are. However, what makes All Might's smile so uniquely impactful to what it did to Hero Society is the way it gave people courage to help people. Less hesitation. Less bystander syndromes. The ability to move without thinking. Because you can feel the want to help a person, but the courage to be nosey and actually do it? That's portrayed as something AM's image teaches people.

The second way he disproves AM's insecurity of dragging Deku down is that he makes it clear that this pain is somewhat of a necessity in reforming society. He says, interestingly enough, that this is but the 'middle process' in reforming society. This spills over to how he addresses Problem B, but what Stain is essentially saying here is that this sort of brutality and isolation that Izuku faces is impermanent. A phase. It implies that even if Deku is struggling and Toshinori is unable to help him, it is something that needs to happen before they re-realize the ideal heroes All Might's image is meant to create.

The second problem in regards to how All Might feels about current society (how it's collapsing because of him, etc. etc.) is more interestingly addressed. There are many things that Stain says--like how Toshinori doesn't need to actually be the one to fix society with his bare hands. The current society is not his fault because of the fact that it is not finished developing. I'm not sure if I can go so far as to say that Stain means this in the sense of the Scorched Earth method of tearing everything down to build it back up better-- but I can say that Stain still has faith in society to rebuild after this period of chaos.

This rebuilding starts with the old generation of heroes correcting what they messed up (i.e. Endeavor v Dabi) and more importantly, paving the way for a better generation of heroes that was inspired by All Might's image. Heroes that are led by people like Deku, who is defined by his proclivity to help without thinking. The violent deconstruction of society is about exposing society to the raw truth of All Might's image that not everybody can be as strong as him-- which is why we have to take care of each other.

When the lady comes in to remove the sign and start cleaning the statue, it's symbolic. It's a clear metaphor that the past few chapters are the turning point for society as a whole, and how people are starting to remember what real heroism is. From the distrust that was seeded in society ever since LoV had surfaced, we are seeing that trust being returned TEN-FOLD now that people can see not only the mask of a hero's smile, but also the person underneath.

I think it's some really neat symbolism here too about how Deku, who's metal mouth guard was literally all about representing All Might's smile, is shed.

This is hero society dropping their masks. Letting people see them for as they are. Toshinori revisiting the statue in this form makes all the more impact because he shed his mask ages ago during the Kamino Bust, so this is him coming face to face with the image he's created and seeing the differences between them, and how his image continues to live on even after he's almost completely Quirkless. The lady cleaning the All Might statue shows off the fact that things can be repaired again--that society can be clean (hehe stain pun) again.

It's interesting to me here how Stain offers the information from Tartarus.

He doesn't care anymore about his life. It's evident. He disagrees with what the LoV is doing, but believes enough in Deku to think that it's time for him to retire the mantle of 'Stain'. Unless this is another test, it's very odd for me to hear that Stain is offering a blade and his life to someone he isn't even sure is All Might.

But the impact of this action reads loud and clear.

This is Stain taking pity on All Might. This is him realizing that All Might too is a person behind the hero. That Toshinori Yagi is incapable of doing anything past the image he had already created. By offering that knife and information on Tartarus, Stain is giving control back to Toshinori. He is giving AM the chance to do something big again to help society's reconstruction. To be a part of the revolution that he so badly deserves to see. That knife is essentially an exit ticket from the sidelines, and one last chance for All Might to be able to see what his image has done for people.

I personally think that the main reason Stain is willing to die then and there by Toshinori's hand, despite not being sure that he is All Might to begin with, is because of the final impact it creates that it isn't about Toshinori Yagi's true power as a person, but the image of All Might. It is because he looks like the symbol of peace, that Stain (the literal HERO KILLER) feels comfortable laying his life in his hands and giving away valuable information.

If that isn't a great testament to the power of AM's image, I don't know WHAT is.

I guess all I have to say is I absolutely love what Stain did in this chapter. Everything felt so incredibly symbolic and emotional and as someone who absolutely ADORES All Might and what he stands for in the story, this felt like a cool balm after seeing Deku tragically reject his bento box a good few chapters ago. I have a few more opinions about symbolism, and how I think Deku's generation of heroes is going to stray from the old gen, but I think that's a discussion for another time.

Thanks for reading 'til the end!

[shemarmooresfedora]

HI!!

I’m so happy for you to have hit 200 and now 300 followers!! You deserve a gold star ⭐️

I was looking at the prompts I think 4, 6, 12 sound good!! Again, I’m super happy that at your follower count. You’re a great writer and I can’t wait to see wait else you come up with 💕

You Don’t Ever Have to Hide From Me

Summary: You and Spencer are forced to share a hotel room but insecurities get the best of you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: internal angst due to body image issues, fluffy ending!

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: why did i just write and edit this whole thing to avoid editing my other WIP which would have taken me less time. i just have been feeling in a bit of a rut lately so i needed some good old-fashioned spencer reassurance. prompt requests close tomorrow at 5 pm EST

Masterlist

Hotch came back from the receptionist’s desk, “We’re going to have to double up on rooms. They’re a little short.”

JJ and Emily paired off together immediately to no one’s surprise.

“I’m not sleeping with Reid,” Derek shook his head.

“Alright, Morgan, you’re with me,” Hotch stated, handing the last card to Spencer, “Sorry, they only have a king room, not twins.”

You groaned internally, flashing Spencer an awkward grin that he returned with his classic tight-lipped smile.

You had nothing against Reid, in fact, you would go out on a limb to say that you would call him your friend rather than coworker. But, all you wanted was to relax and let sleep take over you and now you would be up all night, afraid of snoring or anything else you could do to possibly embarrass yourself in front of your newly-budding crush.

You and Spencer rode the elevator up to the second floor in complete silence. Spencer slipped the key card into the slot on the door and pushed it open as it blinked green. He gestured for you to enter first because he was always such a gentleman.

“You can take a shower first if you want,” you offered to diffuse some of the awkward tension.

“Okay, thanks,” Spencer collected his change of clothes and headed into the bathroom.

As you gathered your belongings, you fell onto the bed in exasperation when you realized you only packed a cotton bralette and PJ shorts to wear to bed because you hadn’t been expecting to share a room at all let alone with Spencer.

“All yours,” Spencer smiled softly as he exited the bathroom, ruffling a towel through his curly locks to dry them.

“Thanks,” you murmured, reluctantly grabbing the skimpy clothing and heading into the bathroom.

Spencer was reading with only the nightstand lamp on when you finished your shower. You exited the bathroom with your dirty clothes balled up in front of you to hide your bare torso.

You crawled into bed on the opposite side of Spencer, putting as much space between you as possible. You were practically falling off the edge of the bed in an attempt to keep your distance.

You cleared your throat, “I’m putting a pillow between us. Under no circumstances do you cross it, okay?”

You took one of the extra pillows on your side and placed it right in the middle of the bed.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded, clicking off the lamp, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Spencer.”

-

You awoke to the feeling of arms wrapped around you. You could feel Spencer’s soft, even breaths against your neck. But then you felt his hands touching your exposed stomach. You cringed as the insecurities bubbled up.

You leapt up from the bed which startled Spencer awake. Your arms were crossed tightly around your front to shield Spencer from seeing any more of your body in the morning light.

“I-I told you not to cross the pillow,” you spoke softly.

Spencer noticed he had gravitated to your side of the bed throughout the night.

“Y/N, I am so so sorry. I swear I was asleep, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable at all. I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow night,” Spencer sputtered.

“Don’t bother, okay? Just forget it. I can take the floor or hopefully a new room will open up by then,” you gave him a small smile to show you weren’t mad and grabbed your bag, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

-

You sighed, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror the following night. No new rooms opened up and you didn’t ask to switch with anyone because you didn’t want to cause a fuss. You also didn’t want Spencer feeling bad because you knew he hadn’t meant to do it on purpose.

You had practically begged Derek to lend you his biggest sweatshirt for the night. When he asked for a reason, you just shrugged, muttering something about the air conditioning in your room being broken and he gave it to you.

Spencer was reading once again with the lamp on when you exited the bathroom, much more covered this time.

Spencer immediately stood when he heard the door open.

“I already made a bed on the floor for me. I was just using your bed to be close to the lamp while you were in there,” Spencer quickly explained, getting himself situated on the floor.

“Spencer, I really don’t mind taking the floor,” you said.

“I was the one who crossed the boundaries, Y/N. I am taking the floor, I should have taken it the first night too. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable,” Spencer stated.

“It’s okay, Spencer. Night,” you yawned.

“Night, Y/N,” he sighed.

Spencer heard your breathing even out but he couldn’t go to sleep.

It all made sense now. You got upset when he cuddled with you last night, rightfully so, but he couldn’t figure out why until now. You and Derek must have a thing. Why else would you be wearing Derek’s sweatshirt? You were trying to send a message to him.

Spencer rolled over and eventually fell into a restless sleep at the thought of his crush liking Derek.

-

“Just so you know, Derek’s a good guy even though he may put on a bit of a ‘player’ act,” Spencer stated to you as you were packing your bags.

The case had wrapped so you were heading home on the jet soon. You could finally have a room to yourself, not that Spencer wasn’t great company but it was just nerve-wracking to be constantly over-analyzing your every move when with your crush.

“Um okay?” you zipped up your suitcase and set it by the door.

“Is it serious or is it more of a casual thing? When did it first start? You guys should probably fill out the HR paperwork to cover the team from any liabilities,” he began to ramble.

“Spencer-”

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me. I don’t really have anyone to tell anyways besides you and Morgan but obviously you two already know-”

“God, can you just listen to me for a second?”

This caused Spencer to close his mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you but I figured I should save you the breath. Morgan and I aren’t dating, seeing each other, or in any sort of romantic relationship,” you stated.

“But you were wearing his sweatshirt last night?” Spencer’s brow furrowed.

You pursed your lips and closed your eyes, “I’m not exactly the most comfortable in my body...especially around people I like.”

“Can I hug you?” Spencer asked softly.

You nodded and you felt yourself being enclosed in his warm embrace.

“You don’t ever have to hide from me, Y/N. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever and will ever lay my eyes on, inside and out,” Spencer whispered in your ear.

“And I like you too,” he added, “Not that you need them but if you’re going to be borrowing anyone’s clothes, they’re going to be mine,” he smiled.

“Good to know because I’ve had my eyes on that purple sweater of yours for a while,” you grinned.

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[solarwonux]

41.  “Dance with me.”

59.  “I’m still sore from last night.”

ceo!yoongi x reader

w.c: 1.6k

warnings: a little suggestive if you like squint, sweet teeth numbing fluff

note: please please let me know your thoughts, it helps me out a lot. Also send in a drabble request hehehe.

masterlist || drabble game

Yoongi loved mornings. 

Yoongi loved mornings more, now that the two of you had finally moved in together after years of dancing around the subject. He loved waking up next to you, with your face buried into the side of his body and your tiny snores escaping your dry chapped lips, echoing against the eggshell walls of the room. He loved the way the thin rays of the morning sun peek through the slits of the blackout curtains. The light dancing against your body, illuminating all his favorite features. Which was all of you. He loved the way you would stir, and he would race against time to shut his eyes before you could catch him starring at you. 

You always did. 

You will never let him know that you knew he always woke up first to love you silently without you or anyone in the world there to interrupt him. It was his most valuable and cherished secret, the only one he kept from you. So, you vowed to take the fact that you knew about it to the grave. 

Today though, you had beat him at his own game. You had woken up first, silently watching as his breath was calm and concentrated. The minuscule stress lines that had appeared throughout his face over the years of overwork, nowhere to be seen. He looked peaceful, younger; like he didn’t carry the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Despite cherishing his sleep more than anything in the world, you understood now, why he always woke up first. He looked so beautiful, so raw, so intimate, so vulnerable, like a work of art. And you could hope that he felt the same way.

You found yourself never wanting to take your eyes away from his sleeping form, afraid you would miscount the intervals between his inhales and his exhales. Afraid you would miss the way his lips parted in inaudible snores or the way he would pout whenever he moved. Yet, the clock on his bedside table thought otherwise. 

8:30am

Last night, you had made a promise to yourself before falling asleep, that you would wake up early to make him breakfast. It was his day off, the office didn’t need their big bad CEO that never once seemed to crack a smile, even if he was impressed or excited. You never understood why he kept such a fake front for his employees when they knew that he was the biggest softy on the planet, especially when it came to his loved ones. He would turn heaven and hell over  if it meant he could protect everyone he loved. He would even sacrifice himself to ensure that nothing ever happened to his friends, family, and you. But you supposed that his fleeting image was all part of his job, so you let him be. 

You took one last look at your sleeping boyfriend, biting your lower lip, contemplating on whether you should just stay in bed until he woke up. Or get up to prepare him a whole breakfast feast just like he deserved. You almost picked the first option until your stomach grumbled lowly, indicating that the second option was the better option, unfortunately. So, you got up silently, and carefully, afraid that any wrong move would wake him up and ruin your surprise.

The air in your lungs got caught in the back of your throat as you saw him stir slightly. Sleepy incoherent mumbles fell out of his lips. You froze in fear, your robe midway on, watching as he tugged the sheets up to his chin and sunk further into the bed. When you realized he wasn’t getting up anytime soon you finished putting on your robe and quickly made your way into the kitchen. 

“You know it’s my day off right?” Yoongi mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, sweatpants low on his hips, his messy hair sticking up in all different directions. A slight blush appeared on your cheeks when you remembered how your fingers had been tangled up in it, as you screamed out his name like a mantra, while he made love to you until the late morning hours. 

“And you don’t have to be at work for another three hours.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and gave your temple a sweet kiss, “good morning honey, how’d you sleep?” He rested his head against your shoulder, clinging onto you like he was afraid you would vanish.

“I slept like a baby.” You smiled cutting the last stem of the strawberry you had diligently been working on before he walked in. “Morning to you too sleepy head.” You turned your face, leaving a delicate kiss against his bed head. Yoongi smiled, he loved waking up next to you, admiring you silently as you slept. But he also loved being wrapped up in your warmth as you went around doing your daily morning routine. You always complained about how he never let you get things done. That the extra weight clinging onto you like a koala was only slowing you down. He knew you secretly loved it and would not be able to go about your day peacefully if he just stopped. 

In fact, he had tested it out once after the two of you had gotten into a petty fight. You had called him that day at lunch time in tears, claiming that everything had gone wrong because he had ignored you all morning. Truth be told he had felt the same way. That was the day he truly realized that he could never live without you.

“I was hoping you would wake up after I finished making breakfast.” You pouted putting your knife down and gathering all the strawberries you had tentatively cut up putting them into a bowl. 

“And I was hoping we could spend the entire morning in bed, but we can’t always get what we want in life can we?” He mumbled against your clothed shoulder. His fingers cheekily playing with the knot of your robe.

You turned in his arms, “all morning? Doing what?” Your arms made their way around his neck pulling him closer. 

Yoongi smirked, his fingers itching to untie your robe praying you weren’t wearing anything underneath. “I have a few ideas, some good, some bad. But I mostly just wanted to keep sleeping with you in my arms.” He shrugged, running his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it before closing the distance and planting a soft, intimate kiss against your lips. 

It was savory, enough to keep you on your toes, wanting for more when he pulled away. “Good because I’m still sore from last night.” You said pointedly. Yoongi threw his head back laughing, his chest swelling up with pride as he remembered how you didn’t want to stop after three rounds. Even begging him, getting down on your knees for him in the shower. The two of you still hadn’t christened your newly shared apartment but he was positive that last night would’ve been the night if you hadn’t fallen asleep. 

“That’s on you my little minx, you didn’t want to stop, I just fulfilled your desires.” He winked, kissing your cheek and moved aside, an arm still around your waist as he reached over for the Bluetooth speaker he kept in the kitchen. 

“Hey!” You scoffed, hitting his chest lightly, “this isn’t completely on me, you came home and didn’t even let me greet you properly before you were carrying me off to our room.” 

“Honestly babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smirked as he scrolled through his phone. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looked through his music selection. 

“We’re going to have to work on that memory of yours. It's starting to worry me.” You said in fake concern and circled your arms around his waist pulling him close, “I can help.” You whispered before planting a small kiss on the blooming flowers you had left on his chest last night. You could never get enough of him. 

“Mhm, I’ll take you up on your offer later.” He set his phone down on the kitchen counter, the soft melody of an unfamiliar song sounding through his Bluetooth speaker. “Right now, dance with me?” He tilted his head to the side. He didn’t give you enough time to answer when he was already leading you to the middle of the kitchen, his arms finding their perspective place around your waist as he started swaying the two of you in place. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his nose a tiny peck, earning a boyish smile from Yoongi. “What is this?” 

“A song Namjoon and I are working on...for our wedding.” The afterthought falling out his lips before he had time to stop it. It wasn’t until he felt your body go rigid in his arms that he realized what he had said. “Um, forget I said that.” 

“We just moved in together and you’re already planning our wedding playlist, I didn’t think you would be the type. What’s next you’re going to show me the Pinterest board you created?” You joked ignoring the way your heart was racing, hoping he couldn’t feel it through the thinness of your silk robe. 

He groaned, annoyed. So what? Maybe he did have a Pinterest board with ideas for your wedding. He had been adding pictures to it since he met you five years ago at Junkook’s grand opening for his art gallery. The second he spotted you laughing along with his best friend, hard enough for champagne to come out of your nose. The ice around his heart melted and he knew he would be spending the rest of his life with you. He’s been writing songs about it ever since.

“Maybe another time, we have enough time for that, right now we have two hours before you have to go to work and I plan on milking every second of it.”

[acdeaky]

(felt your arms) holding me

warning: mentions/descriptions of nightmares, mentions of blood and death, implications of PTSD, fluff

note: this was meant to be my other submission for @celestialbarnes’ 4k writing challenge, but my brain decided to finish this one first and ignore my original idea (but that will still come your way!) i chose the prompt ‘bed’ and dialogue 9 ‘“was it the nightmares again?” “no” “you suck at lying”’ congrats again, rachel! and enjoy 🤍

read my other submission here!

word count: 2.0k

all that rung through the scarce lobby of your hotel was yours and bucky’s laughs. his arm thrown over your shoulders as yours was wrapped around his waist, your left hand reaching over your body to rest on his chest.

your façade of a happily married couple fooled everyone you’d met since the mission began; the hotel clerks and customers, the targets, even people on the street. they all seemed to take one look at you and believe the act the two of you had been putting on for two days.

the only time it faltered was as soon as you walked through the hotel room door, bucky’s arm leaving your body as if he was scared of invading your personal space. even after spending all day and night by each other’s sides he was still scared of overstepping that invisible boundary he’d put there himself.

everything worked like clockwork after the soft sounds of the lock clicking into place sounded through the room: bucky would remove his blazer, grabbing himself a drink while you slid into the bathroom, nightwear in hand. he’d allow you the bathroom first, for as long as you wanted, occupying his time by either drinking the aged whiskey in the room’s mini bar or cleaning inbetween the ridges of his vibranium arm.

you’d walk out some time later, the remains of the steam from your shower following after you. bucky would give you a smile before standing and grabbing his nightwear, repeating your earlier actions. he’d come out only a little while later, finding you curled in the chair by the desk, your eyes scanning and reading over the report for the day.

“it’s late, doll, don’t spend too long on that.” he chastised, stepping over to your side to place a delicate kiss on your temple. like usual, whenever bucky was even close to you, your heart fluttered, your hand so desperately wanting to reach out and grab his own.

but you refrained, knowing that saying something now would change things: you didn’t want that just yet. staying in this little bubble was enough.

before you even had the chance to look up and reply to him, bucky was already laid along the sofa, a blanket thrown across his lower half. he, himself, had papers in his hands, reading over earlier reports from days before.

“don’t be too late.” you teased a few moments later after dropping your pen and making your way over to the bed. bucky glanced over at you, smiling lightly as he watched you climb under the sheets, wanting to be there next to you. “night buck.”

“g’night, doll.” came his response as the lights switched off. the papers in his hands fell onto the floor just before he closed his eyes, mind wandering back to the first day of the mission.

-

as much as you’d love to pretend it didn’t, the view of only one bed in the middle of the room made your heart drop. of course; it made sense that you and bucky, a happily married couple, would need a room with only one bed. but you didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to make bucky even more uncomfortable than you thought he already was.

you didn’t think anything could make this situation better, but you knew there was no possibility of bucky sleeping next to you each night you’d be there; he rarely slept in his own bed.

bucky followed into the room after you, not even registering the situation as he dropped your bags onto the ottoman against the end of the bed. he looked towards you and saw the slight worry etched into your features, immediately worried at whatever was wrong.

“hey, what’s up?” he asked, gentle as ever, a hand wanting to reach out towards you, but unsure as to how to interact.

“there- there’s only one bed,” you spoke, watching as bucky’s eyes widened slightly and turned away from you. “i mean- it’s not a problem, i just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and i’m sure we can work something out-”

“i’ll sleep on the couch, it’s fine, doll.” he smiled, toothless and unsure, but determined to settle your mind.

“bucky, no, i can’t make you do that.”

“you’re not, it’s okay, really.” his little smile came again, hoping to reassure you - it didn’t.

the both of you knew it was no use; bucky was as stubborn as anything and wouldn’t allow you to give up any of your comfort for his own. and so, bucky found himself sleeping on the sofa for the first two nights. for him, it was better than the floor (like he was used to), and better than the all too soft mattress which laid underneath you.

bucky wanted more, you wanted more.

you wanted to reach out and touch his soul, wrap your healing hands around his heart and never let go until he was healed. you wanted that physical touch, whispering quiet affirmations into his ear as you held him tight against your chest, the beating of your heart killing him to sleep as you allowed his steady breathing to help you.

and bucky, bucky wanted to reach out to you, let his incoherent rambling fall onto your listening ears as you returned nods and calming smiles. he wanted you to listen, to understand, to give him everything he’s ever wanted from you. although it wasn’t much, there was something from you he craved and he was willing to go to the ends of the earth.

-

it can’t have been late when you heard the familiar sounds of the sofa groaning under the shift of bucky’s weight, the blanket hitting the floor and finally footsteps from one side of the room to the window.

he had to have been awake for a little while, tossing and turning on the cushions before deciding to actually get up. he rarely does that, usually managing to settle himself. but tonight was different, clearly, and something bad truly shaken him.

“was it the nightmares again?” you whispered into the darkened room, the only light coming from the moon shining through the thin transparent curtains.

“no.” came his reply many moments later as bucky ended his debate on whether to tell you the truth or not.

“you suck at lying.” was all you replied, pulling the white sheets from your body as you shifted to the edge of the bed.

even with the minimal light, you managed to make your way over to bucky. he was sat on one of the chairs facing the large opening doors to the balcony, watching the city continue flourishing through the gap of material, even in the early hours of the morning.

with little thought, your hands rested on his tense shoulders, barely registering the lack of the t-shirt he wore to sleep earlier. there was a shaky breath that escaped him, but other than that bucky stayed silent. his eyes remained focused on the view, mind attempting to concentrate on something that wasn’t your soft, yet skilled, hands erasing the knots from his shoulders.

“are you going to tell me the truth soon?” you asked after a few minutes, almost scared that bucky had fallen asleep sat up and all that holding him was your delicate hands.

there still came no reply, but you could feel his shoulders shaking with the silent, heavy breath he exhaled. so you left the conversation, opting to walking around to the front of the chair to lend your hand instead.

he placed his left hand in your own, allowing you to pull him up from his seat and lead him over to the bed. as much as his mind was telling him no, he couldn’t refuse your offer of laying with you, sheets wrapped around your bodies as you attempted to fall asleep again.

as you climbed into your side, bucky was hesistent, taking a convincing pat on the sheets from you for him to finally make up his mind. even as he laid down on his back, he was stiff, almost motionless under the sheets as he tried not to unconsciously shuffle closer to you.

but you weren’t like that; you lazily rolled onto your side, facing bucky as you shuffled closer to his body, his warmth.

a shy hand reached out to touch his left bicep, grabbing bucky’s attention as he felt a touch as soft as clouds on his vibranium arm. something he’d never felt, never experienced, and it almost startled you how quickly his head snapped to the side to look at you.

“is this okay?” your voice was quiet and you motioned towards where your hand was placed, watching in bucky’s eyes for any sign on discomfort or worry; there wasn’t any. though, all he could reply was a curt nod. his body remained motionless. his head fixed in its place watching you.

once he let you know he was okay, you became more confident. it only took a second for you to shuffle even closer to bucky, your body practically flush with his side as your free hand grabbed his left one, lacing your fingers together.

“is this still okay?” and once again, he could only nod, his eyes still fixed on yours as he watched them twinkle in the moonlight.

“what happens? in your nightmares; what happens?” the hand over his bicep moved to his chest, running over his smooth skin in an attempt to calm him down.

“too much.” was all he replied.

“what happened tonight?”

“you,” it was short, but you could imagine what was coming next. “you died, and i couldn’t save you. you were laid in my arms, in the pretty dress you wore last night, blood staining everything. you were dying in my arms, doll, and all i could do was sit and watch.”

even with the falter in his voice, neither of you broke eye contact, keeping your eyes fixed on his for as long as he would let you before you would, eventually, have to look away. but he didn’t pull back, and so you didn’t. he spoke openly, honestly, letting you in to another piece of his mind which he only showed a few people.

“don’t think about that anymore,” you whispered, “think about how i’m here, alive, in your arms, living and breathing with that dress unstained in the wardrobe.”

the hand that once rested on his chest shifted upwards, moving to cover bucky’s cheek and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen. your gaze dropped from his eyes for a second, down to his lips and back. if he noticed, he didn’t say anything, just inhaling a shaky breath.

you let your right hand leave bucky’s left, unlacing your fingers before using your other hand to guide his arm around your shoulders. the chill of the vibranium sent little shocks down your skin, but it was a nice contrast to the warmth of his chest.

the front of your body pressed closer into his side, shifting your body to allow your cheek to rest against his pec, his heart beating away right under your ear.

a deep sigh left bucky, his chest rising and falling quickly as he allowed himself a moment to realise what was happening. you were there, skin to skin against him, happily laid with his arm wrapped around your body.

“i care about you, buck, more than you like to think,” your whispered confession came. “i have done for a while, and how i feel about you isn’t how i feel about everyone else.”

it took a moment for bucky to reply. he allowed your words to sink in, to resonate with him for a moment before even thinking of what to say. you’d told him how you feel, how you’ve felt for a long time, in a way he understood, a way he could comprehend.

“i care about you, too.”

-

taglist (for people who i think might enjoy this): @forever-rogue @buvky @buckys-darling @barnessupremacy @wallflowerbarnes @bvckysmoon @gryffindorwriter @nev3rfound @aerynwrites

bucky taglist: @marvel-rhapsody @bloomingbucky

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: Four

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness, grieving, trauma, panic attack; delusion, manipulation, drugging, intimidation.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: Well, here’s the next chapter of this creeper story and this one even had me a little shook.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

It’s Sunday now and she’s asleep. At last. She wouldn’t drink the tea so I had to make her. I promised her it was just chamomile to keep her calm, a half-lie. Now she’s sleeping, her soft breaths against my elbow as I sit with her.

She screamed when she found me in the house. Then the panic made it hard for her to breathe and I had to count with her. She couldn’t even remember what came after three so I kept my hand over her mouth until she was woozy and weak. Now the pills will keep her asleep until I’m ready. Until she’s ready. I found the old bottle in her cupboard, if they’re expired, that means they might not last.

I read it all. These pages of her thoughts. She’s so alone, so confused she can’t even see that I only want to take care of her. That she needs me. Her doctor, her caretaker, they can’t really help her. I know it better than anyone. 

A diagnosis does nothing, hell, this journal does nothing. The doctors say writing down the  mess helps sort it all out. What a bunch of liars. And what can they do for her but keep her in this house all alone and take her inheritance. That’s all they want, to be paid for their empty words. 

She doesn’t have to pay me, I will help her.

Monday

She tried to scream when she woke up. I had to cover her mouth again and hold her down in her bed. I hated it, seeing her so afraid. She didn’t stop flailing and the tears trickled down her cheeks and temples in her terror. I hushed her and begged her to be quiet, she did but her round eyes assured me she was still afraid.

I let her sit up as I took away my hand. I never meant to touch her with that one. The metal is so harsh and inhuman, I only want her to feel me. 

She mopped her face as I looked through the closet and I found a pretty dress with the same purple colour as the pansies I brought her all those weeks ago.

I gave it to her and told her to get dressed while I called Tisha. I assured her that the girl is okay, she is, she’s safe and she has me. The doctor’s happy to have someone there with her and added that she’s even more happy that she’s warming up to me. 

She mentioned it was tough for the girl to trust men. I can’t blame her, I have met too many evil ones too.

Now she’s sitting at the table and eating some pancakes with blueberry syrup. She keeps looking at me and I see her eyes linger on the journal. 

I told her I just want to know her and this is the best way. If she won’t talk to me, I need to learn about her another way. The more I read, the more I realise we’re so much alike.

She’s so precious, the way her tongue flicks over her lips to lick up up the sticky syrup. She trembles just a little as she cuts the fluffy pancakes with her forks and stabs them. 

This place needs a good cleaning. It’s stuffy and dusty and smells of mildew. It will give me something to do then maybe we can sort out the garden. I didn’t realise picking those tulips would leave such a mess. Well, I could find some sunflowers to replant from the garden center down at the depot. I think she’ll like that.

She’s crying again.

Tuesday

I had to give her more of the pills. After Tisha came by to evaluate her and Lorena dropped off the groceries, I saw how fidgety she was. Her voice shook as she spoke with them and I worked on fixing that shed window once and for all. 

The doctor commented on how kind that was but it had to be done. This place really needs to be fixed up. How could such a precious creature live like this for so long? How could she be hidden away from the world when she’s so beautiful? I know why. I see it in her eyes, the same deep cracks I see in my own. She’s been hurt.

When Lorena was finally gone and we were alone, she began to sob and even hit me. She tried to push me away and told me to go. I had to stop her, I had to…

I don’t want to write about what I had to do but I didn’t hurt her. I just made sure she stopped and I got her some more tea. She drank it as she sniffled and I watched her as she set down the mug. It wasn’t long before she slumped and began to snore.

I pulled her down so she’s comfortable across the couch, a pillow under her head with the little throw over her middle. She looks peaceful. While she’s sleeping, I’ll make some dinner and maybe a dessert. She has lots of cookbooks around here. I want her to realise everything I can do for her, that she doesn’t have to do everything alone.

Wednesday

I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t thinking.

She didn’t wake up for dinner so I left it in the stove to keep warm. I ate when my stomach began to grumble and the tart I made wasn’t too bad, just a little dry. I got washed up and came out to check on her again. She was still dead out so I moved her over and sat to feel her breath against my fingers.

I couldn’t help but admire her as she slumbered. I felt her soft lips and had to poke my finger just inside. I felt the stirring and I knew I should go, get dressed and come back to take her to bed. She could have her dinner tomorrow.

But I didn’t. 

It was so fast. It hurt how hard I suddenly was as I let my hand wander along her throat and down her chest. I peeked under her shirt, she’s very womanly, so soft and warm. I did stop…

For a couple minutes. I don’t know. It felt so weird. Like I wasn’t me, like it wasn’t my body. It felt like those days when my mind wasn’t my own and I just watched from the side as horrible things happened. As I did those things.

My hand was between her legs before I realised it. I rubbed her warm cunt, I couldn’t get enough of it. It was so soft, so wet, so welcoming. I rubbed and rubbed until I heard her low breaths hitch.

She didn’t wake, the pills heavy on her eyelids still. I pulled open my towel and pulled her hand against my cock. She touched me too, I helped her as she slept. I moved her hand as my own continued to explore her. Her body twitched and she came as hre bud throbbed beneath my fingertips.

I came too and watched the ropes drip down her hand. I kept her hand around me, moving it until I was so oversensitive and tender that I gasped. Her hand was slick with me and the sight of her glistening palm is intoxicating. My cum is still there on her hand. 

She’s on the couch still. I don’t know what will happen if I move her to the bed. I’m afraid to find out… but excited too.

Thursday

Today was a good day!

I took her out to the garden to see the flowers I ordered. I still can’t leave her, she’s not ready. I helped her plant them and her hand kept touching mine. She would flinch but I saw the way she pressed her fingertips to her palm after as if basking in it.

When we finished, she even made lunch. We sat and ate, quietly, but I don’t mind. I’m not very talkative either and I understand, a lot has changed in a life that hasn’t changed for a very long time. 

As she finished her soup, dipping the crusts of her sandwich into the tomato broth, I went to the living room and looked at the old victrola. I knelt to examine the records and I knew many of them to my delight. This place reminds me of a lot of things, as if I’ve found everything that I lost.

She came and watched me from the door. When she’s nervous, she moves around a lot and she teetered on her feet as she clasped her hands. I smiled at her, I wanted her to smile back but she just blinked.

“What’s your favourite?” I asked, “you have Garland? Sinatra? Armstrong?”

“I like them all,” her voice was so thin I barely heard it.

I took out a Louis Armstrong vinyl and dropped the needle. She shied away as I went to her but that’s how the girls always were at the dance hall. I took her hand and she didn’t resist further. I drew her to me and led her as her untrained feet tried not to stomp on mine. For a moment, I was back there again, before the war, before the uniform, before the train.

It was just me and my gal! 

Friday

Last night, I gave her more pills. I caught her in the garden just after dinner. I was washing up and she snuck out like a naughty child. She was by the gate when I came out, peering out into the street. The new lock was still in place, the one she doesn’t have the key to.

She began to cry as I told her to come back in. She said she wanted to leave if I wouldn’t. I told her she was being dramatic and she needed her tea. She said she’s afraid of me. Afraid? What have I done but taken care of her when her doctor and caretaker can only be bothered when they ‘have time’.

She calmed down and drank her tea and had some of the tart. She liked it a lot and I said I’d get more strawberries, she didn’t need to send Lorena this time. She’s in bed now, still asleep.

Later

I thought I heard her so I went to check on her. She had kicked off her blankets, she must have been hot. So I pulled out a night gown from her dresser and took off her jeans and her shirt. It took me a moment to process her nakedness and I got that same tingle from nights ago.

I couldn’t help but touch her just a little. She was wet again, as if she was expecting it. So long together and I can’t blame her for wanting me but I know she’s too shy to say it. When she’s awake, she just gets in her own way.

I’m not going to make excuses. I lost control. I touched myself too and before I knew it I was on top of her. She was still only in her bra and panties and her tits fell out as I shook the bed. 

My hand is hardly enough but I didn’t want to rush this. I played with her chest just a little, her nipples went hard and I had to taste them.

When I was ready to explode, I stayed bent over her and pulled down her panties. I came on her but I didn’t enter her. Not yet, as much as it hurts, it’s not time yet. I left her covered in my cum and pulled her panties back up. I took off her bra and dressed her in the night gown.

Now I’m just winding down and I’ll sleep too soon. I’ll hold her and think about my cum still in her panties. Maybe I’ll do a little more, use her hand a little to release a little more tension. It’s so hard being so close but I have to take it slow. For her.

Saturday

I kissed her good morning and today she didn’t pull away. She didn’t do much until I told her to get up. When she did, she didn’t even try to cover herself as her night gown had ridden up in her sleep. 

And I saw the way she stared at my body, my boxers all I had on. When she realised I caught her, she quickly looked away.

She also didn’t know I noticed how she tugged on her panties and shifted on her legs awkwardly. No doubt she could feel me still but she wouldn’t know why. 

She’s in the shower now and I’m waiting for the coffee to brew. I can hear the patter of water and I wanted badly to join her and help her scrub her body, admire it beneath the trickle as it explores every crevice I long to.

I know I can’t and just thinking of it is making it hard to sit still. I thought playing with her hand last night would keep me happy for a little longer. That it would help my thoughts and my patience but now I want to do everything and more. And I want her to know it this time. To feel it.

No. Not yet. But I can still make her smile. When she comes out I’ll give her her new journal, with pages not about to fall away from the spine and unstained by errant drops of tea. I can’t wait to see her surprise!

[mellowswriting]

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.