#i just remember him on me and i remember his hand on my throat and it was so dark and i couldnt breathe

[awordsmith]

tangled up 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer join forces to babysit both Jack and Henry.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s6 category: novella content warnings: not proofed, contains nothing but pure fluff, reader and spencer get mistaken as Jack and Henry's parents... reid with warmth !!  word count: 4.9k a/n: first novella fic whaaaa....i've been wanting to write this one for a while, but i knew it wouldn't be that long, so this is perfect for my first novella fic!!; enjoy!

The morning was cold and frosty, and the only thing able to mend it: a large, hot latte. Hotch approached your desk as you set your things down. He leaned over and whispered conspicuously, “Are you sure you can come tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, just as secretive, and perhaps some more to show how dramatic he was being, “Yes, Hotch,” you saluted him, “Jack will be in good hands.”

A gruff sound came from his throat–as if signifying his disbelief, “If you say so, do you remember what time?”

“Hotch?”

He looked around, glancing back at you with pressed lips. “Yeah?”

“I got this,” you pushed his hand–gripping your desk–off.

“Right,” he nodded, “no I know.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “so why are you stalling? Is this about your date? Because if you don’t want to go–”

“No,” he dusted his suit off, “I’m–I’m walking away.”

“Uh-huh,” you biot back a smile, feeling Spencer slide up next to you, “and what was that all about?” He kept his inquisitive gaze on your boss.

“Hotch had a date,” you stated, turning to look at him, “I’m babysitting Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded–but when Penelope called you to the roundtable room and you began to walk away with her, you could hear him mutter, “Why didn’t he ask me?”

JJ rushed in, she apologized for being late as she took her seat. The team watched her; she was flushed, but her face showed clear urgency. She rolled her eyes, “Please do not question me today, I already have enough explaining to do.”

It was silent, but then you just couldn’t help yourself, “...JJ?” She looked at you with a slight warning, but you still asked, “What happened?”

The air in the room evaporated as JJ sucked in a breath, then deflated against her chair, throwing her head back, “Henry’s babysitter quit this morning.” You kept quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Will and I were going to go out tonight, we’ve been planning this for weeks now.” she huffs, running a hand through her hair.

Spencer caught your eyes, and though you shook your head, knowing it’d be a bad idea, he still said, “Well, hey, you know I could watch him for you–if you still wanted to go.”

JJ raised a brow and began to shake her head slowly, “I don’t know, Spence–”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” you noted Hotch raising an eyebrow as Spencer motioned toward you, “— is watching Jack, we could babysit them together.”

JJ glanced at you, then at Hotch–hopeful, “Would you both be okay with that?”

Hotch eyed Spencer’s grin for a moment, “Fine, but — has to keep an eye on Reid too.”

“Uh–what?” Spencer threw his arms up, “I’m a great babysitter–are you laughing?” He glared slightly at Morgan.

“Sure you are,” you reached over and patted the top of his hand, you held his gaze for a split second–the both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

You could hear giggling inside. Jack clung to Hotch, he was eight, and yet he still adored his father. The night was young, but starting to grow darker. Today, you had only been called to air a case, so you worked from the office, which you didn’t have the pleasure of doing most days, making it pretty unique.

“Oh, hey guys,” Spencer called, walking up behind you. You frowned, noting his relaxed attire.

“And I didn’t think you owned anything but sweater vests.”

“Oh–you just had to comment.” He sighed.

“That I did,” you nodded, “that I did.”

The front door opened right as Hotch checked his wristwatch, “you guys made it!”

“Would you believe it? Hotch hasn’t canceled yet.”

Your boss glared at you, but your remark earned chuckles from the others, “Yep, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

JJ stepped out of the house and moved aside, “come on in.” Henry popped his little head out from behind Will and motioned for Jack to follow.

Hotch leaned to the side, eyes only leaving Jack once the boys disappeared behind a corner. “Okay,” JJ approached you, hands on your shoulders, “I am trusting you.”

“Hey–uhm Hi!” Spencer waved, sticking his head over your shoulder, “I’m here too.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m telling her to be careful.”

After a bit of teasing Spencer, Hotch, Will, and JJ left in their cars. “Come, on, it’s freezing out here,” you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your zip-up.

“Let the night begin…”

Spencer stayed, feet glued to the floor for a moment as he watched you wander into the house. He couldn’t help the small smile that grazed his face; he covered it with a hand, closing the door behind him.

Inside you were asking the boys what they wanted to do. Hotch had picked you up from your apartment and you, him, and Jack drove over together–so when Henry suggested the movie theatre, you could only glance at Spencer, wondering if he’d be willing to drive.

He huffed, rolled his eyes, and fell back on the couch in the living room. “We can see what movies are playing, I guess.”

You huffed a laugh and gripped the couch with both hands as you learned over it, watching Jack and Hnery jump on top of Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” He pushed Henry’s foot out of his face and shot you a look when he heard you cover up a snort with a cough.

Upon scrolling through the nearest movie theatre, you found the newest Spider-Man movie was playing, but you had already missed the 7 o’clock one and the next showing was at 8:30. You, Spencer, and the boys agreed to that time, which left you about an hour before you had to leave. Spencer offered to pay and though you had debated with him about going half–he insisted.

You agreed, but only if he let you pay for the snacks. Spencer wasn’t a boyfriend and he wasn’t one of the girls, so it felt weird letting him pay for everything. He was older than you yes, but only by a couple of years, and though you had to remind him of that several times, he never once failed to pull that card over on you.

“What’s that?” Spencer motioned toward the bag you had brought–that you were now unloading on the kitchen counter.

“Ingredients,” you shrugged, “it isn’t real babysitting if you don’t bake something.”

“You bake?” He sat up, throwing something on the television to distract the boys before he made his way toward you.

You brushed it off, “Somewhat.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rounding the counter and meeting your hip with his, “so what are we baking tonight?”

“We?” You raised a brow. He nodded, lips forming a thin line to suppress a grin. “Oh, no,” you huffed a laugh, “we are not–do you even know kitchen etiquette?”

His face scrunched up, “I’m a quick learner.”

“Sarcastic Spencer never fails to amuse me.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “what’s first?”

You shook your head, a grin escaping you. You snatched the butter he had picked up and smacked him on the shoulder as you went to go find a bow for it, “Wash your hands.” 

“Something smells good.” Jack rounded the counter.

“That would be the cookies.” You spun around and bent to your knees, pulling the oven open. 

“When’s the movie?” Henry came waddling in, Spencer not too far behind.

You glanced at him, expecting him to answer for the both of you. You smiled to yourself, pulling off the oven mitts when he said, “uh…we have about five more minutes before we should leave.”

You nodded and began searching for a container to put the cookies in, “boys, do you wanna go outside and help Uncle Spencer start the car?”

“Awesome!” Henry shouted, running off to find his coat.

“Can we really start the car?” Jack looked between you and Spencer.

“Of course,” you smiled, nodding.

“Cool,” he too ran off.

“If either of them wrecks my car, I’m holding you responsible.” He jabbed a warning finger in your direction.

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “right. Spencer, you drive a van.”

“An SUV,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem the type to care about messing things up.”

He held a hand to his chest, mock hurt flashing across his face, “–and what is that supposed to mean.”

You shrugged, but a cheeky smile pulled your lips upward.

“I’ll see you in the car,” he wandered off in search of the boys. You grabbed three cookies and set them aside on a napkin.

When you walked toward the door, you found Spencer and the boys already secure in the car. You locked the door and made your way down the drive.

“I have something delicious,” you handed each boy a cookie, promising to help Spencer clean out his car if it turned out they made a mess.

You took the third cookie and bit into it. Spencer watched you and he pulled off, turning onto the street. He hit a red light when you were halfway done with it, “were you not going to offer to share?”

Your eyebrows shot up momentarily, “you like sweets?”

“Half you met me?” he shot back.

You huffed, yanking his hand from the steering wheel and toward you, placing the cookie into his hand. The light turned green, so he steered with one arm and used his other to eat the cookie. It was a darling sight, truly. You giggled when a few crumbs fell onto the floor.

“I blame you,” he muttered, his mouth full of cookies as he made his proclamation.

Spencer had bought the tickets online, so as you parked, you made a game plan with the boys. Spencer and Henry would go to the bathroom because he forgot to say something back at the house and you and Jack would stand in line. There were a few games around–and of course, the boys asked to play when they saw them–but you only had ten minutes till the movie began, so you promised when the movie was over, you’d stay a bit longer to play.

There were only three lines open and from what you could tell, pretty long. Jack stuffed his hands into his tiny jacket pockets–he looked comfortable. “Do you know what you want to get?”

He pressed his lips together and notably looked around at the freezers and small box-like shelves separating the lines. They were only about two inches higher than him, maybe three or four higher than Henry.

“I’ve never been here.” You frowned. Jack had never been to a movie theatre or he had never been to this theatre? 

“What do you mean?” You stepped forward as the line moved up. A father and his daughter–probably around fourteen–stepped behind you. You took notice, but only because you’ve programmed your brain, they weren’t really important.

Jack shrugged, “What kind of snacks do they have.” You understood Jack didn’t want to speak more on the subject and because you cherished him, you dropped it–but you made a mental note to speak with Hotch about it later.

“Well, I think they have…gummy bears and–oh look–they have cornetto–personally I prefer the cup version–but that’s just me.” Jack laughed and stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the ice cream flavors.

You caught Spencer walking toward you, Henry skipping a few feet in front of him. He caught your wave and nodded toward Jack, who now stepped to the side of the counter–looking through the glass. “How much time do we have?”

Spencer checked his watch once more, his casual attire contrasting. He wore his glasses–which you absolutely adored–a pair of blue jeans substituted his normal khakis, and he wore a black hoodie with red writing on the back. He wore tenashoes instead of his work shoes and his silly socks were hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. It made you frown slightly: you couldn’t tease him about it.

“Do you want anything?” You asked as the boys began listing off candy to the cashier.

“No, I’m good.” He shook his head, stuffing his hands into the singular pocket of his hoodie.

“Wanna share a bowl of popcorn?” You pleaded and eventually, he gave in.

You asked for two smaller bowls so you could split the large bowl between you, Spencer, and the boys. Spencer physically winced when you swiped your card–you saw it happen. It sent a flutter through you and your face reddened as much as it could. You covered it up with a laugh, hoping Spencer didn’t find it weird, though the look he threw you said otherwise.

You found your seats, the boys settled in the middle of the two of you. You separated the popcorn between the boys, but then realized it’d be an issue sharing with Spencer if he was all the way on the other side, so instead, you gave him one of the smaller bowls, filled his and Hnery’s, and shared the big bowl with Jack.

You made it in time for the credits which you hated, but Spencer loved. It put a goofy smile on his face as he explained every ad,s aying how they were trying to tug at your heartstrings or logical side. “But we’re too smart, aren’t we?” He met your gaze.

The boys turned toward you, where you now adorned a serious nod, “oh, yeah, we’re way too smart to fall fo that, right boys?” 

“Yep!” they nodded triumphantly. 

“And why is that?” Spencer rounded the question back to him.

“Because we’re profilers,” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Exactly,” you jabbed a finger at him, messing with his hair a little. He laughed and leaned away, pushing your hand toward the popcorn bowl.

Spencer watched you–but not just your person. He wanted your actions, your facial expression, the way you interacted and spoke to Jack, the way you joked with Henry, the way you took every opportunity you could to tease him about absolutely anything. 

He felt his heart tense and then fall to his stomach once he realized what was occurring. Was he falling in love? Was this what that feeling was? Was this how falling in love happened? You noticed minuscule, insignificant things about a person like the way they laughed? Or the way smiled? You analyzed them so thoroughly that you could tell what they would say before they said it. Or know the action they’re about to take before they make it?

He couldn’t tell. Spencer had never been in love before. He had never fallen in love. But was that what this was? He didn’t have a definitive answer, he just knew he wanted to be closer. To you. To you in every way. He wanted you to want to be close to him and he wondered if that was love.

Because if it was, wouldn’t that mean he’d already fallen? But it didn’t feel right.  It felt…like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he had been searching for an answer he knew was somewhere in his brain, but hadn’t figured it out until just now.

The movie played and he tried his best to watch it–he grasped the general concept, but he was more focused on, well, you.

Did he love you? Could he say that with genuine confidence? He wouldn’t know until he tried it out, but he couldn’t. Because what if he didn’t? What if what he felt for you was simply pure friendship–he’d be making a crucial mistake, one) if you didn’t like him you’d be weirded out and if you did he chanced hurting you, two) you worked together, that was an issue in and of itself.

He jumped when you stood, watching as you stretched. “What?” You raised a brow, a tired smile forming you mouth.

He found himself smiling back, his stomach flipping, “nothing. Just…tired.”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, yawning, “me too. We should head back now, it’s pretty late. We need to take them baths.”

“Yeah,” Spencer glanced at Jack, who was now standing, and Henry, who was fast asleep in his seat.

Spencer tried waking him slightly, but he wasn’t budging, “just carry him,” you suggested.

Deciding it was the only option, Spencer gripped Henry’s armpits and heaved him upward as gently as he could. You watched him as he laid Hnery’s head on his shoulder, the boy snuggling into the crook of his neck, hugging your coworker tightly. 

“Awww,” you sounded like Penelope but you didn’t care, this was too cute a moment not to capture. Whipping out your phone, you ignored Spencer’s pleas and snapped multiple photos from every angle.

Heading to the lobby of the theatre, you nudged Jack, “I’m guessing you don’t want to play some of the games anymore?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no. m’just tired.”

You nodded, pulling him into your side as you walked, “Me too, buddy, me too.”

You passed an elderly couple on the way out, Henry slightly waking up when the cold air hit his face. “Are we home?” He asked.

The elderly couple snickered and said, “You’re a cute family.”

You opened your mouth to correct the woman, but her husband added, “You look just like we did, don’t they?” before you could. He turned to his wife, made clear by the matching rings.

“Oh, they do,” then she bent over and asked Jack, “What movie did your mommy and daddy take you to see.”

Instead of correcting the couple, Jack glanced at you, then Spencer, and grinned–though it was sleepy– “Spider-Man 2.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t seen that one, is it good?”

“Really good,” Henry answered from Spencer’s arms.

They laughed again, then apologized for keeping you and made their way inside.

You and Spencer said nothing as you made your way to the car. Jack and Henry were silent as well. You wondered just what was going through Jack’s head. Maybe he was too tired to understand or care about the women’s words. Yeah, that must have been it.

You decided you would ignore it just as you would ignore the flutter that continuously courced through you the entirety of the night.

With much prodding, you were able to get Henry into the bath. Jack didn’t take much convincing, but he assured you he could do it himself, which you shouldn’t have believed because he ended up getting shampoo into his eyes.

Spencer finished helping him, though it was hard because Jack insisted on showering. Eventually, the two boys were tucked into Henry’s twin-sized bed, and you and Spencer had a little free time before the others arrived.

You grabbed the bowl of cookies that you’d tucked on the counter near the fridge before you’d left. You meant to eat them at the kitchen counter, but Spencer wanted you to watch some movie he had put on. You would blame and hold him responsible for any crumbs that didn’t land in the bowl.

His chuckle was low and light, just like every other time you found yourself making him laugh. It sent a flutter through your chest and you had to turn away to keep from letting him know just how flustered that one sound could make you.

You shivered, you typically brought a sweater with you everywhere just in case, but you were going to JJ’s house, and you knew she’d let you borrow a few blankets. 

“Where are you going?” Spencer caught your wrist as you stood. Your heart jolted and you couldn’t help but stare at it. You blinked a few times before he let go. He sucked in a breath as if you’d stung him. You weren’t sure what he meant by that or if he meant anything at all by it. Spencer was normally an awkward person, but this didn’t feel like something he’d be awkward about, in fact, Spencer would never be put in this situation simply because Spencer hated physical contact.

Maybe that’s why he had such a reaction. You brushed it off, letting a shy smile replace the longing frown, “Just the hall closet to find a blanket…want one?”

Spencer shook his head and wanting to escape the atmosphere, you bottled toward the hall. You retrieved the first blanket on top. It was white with little blue bunnies. Cute. You thought, it must be Henry’s. 

“I’m back,” you hopped on the couch, keeping a cushion between the two of you, for fear of making him uncomfortable.

He declined your offer of a cookie and opted to lean back. It might have just been your imagination, but you were sure Spencer kept sneaking glances at you. You thought he must be bored, he’d put on a '90s romcom. Though you loved the, you were surprised when Spencer put it on. But then maybe he put it on for you and that’s why he kept glancing at you.

You huffed under a cookie, that’s so like him. 

Halfway through the movie, you’d discarded the bowl of cookies with four left and began to feel the lights dim. Or maybe it was just you. You took a moment and laid your head back but it was uncomfortable. As you shifted on the couch, a yawn escaped you. 

Spencer caught it, attention now fully focused on you, he smiled at your dreary state. He moved one leg under him and without really thinking much about it–if it’d make you uneasy or not–he took you by the shoulders and lowered your head into his lap. You noticed, but barely. He pulled the blanket over you as your arms wrapped around his thigh. Your head snuggled into him and when a satisfactory hmm released itself from your throat, he snorted a little. 

He loved you, or at least he thought he did. Spencer had never loved anyone. Well, he loved his mom, but he knew he was programmed that way. He loved quantum physics and math and chemistry and psychology, but those were very broad terms, and still not a being. He liked cats, but he couldn’t love a cat–well, he could–but that was a different discussion.

You, on the other hand, he always wanted to be around. You, on the other hand, he always wanted to talk to. You, he fell asleep thinking about; you, he dreamt about; you, he woke up to.

You were always on his mind, there was no way around it. In every conversation–though he rarely voiced it–he could always draw back to you. Penelope bought a new pink fluffy pen? You loved pens. Dereck couldn’t sleep at night because of his neighbor. You could sleep anywhere–it was a skill. Spencer couldn’t sleep at all, really, and when he did–well, he’d already know what he’d dream about.

He couldn’t escape you–but well, he didn’t want to.

The biggest evidence of his feelings for you? He hated–absolutely loathed–the thought of you talking to/dating/marrying anywhere else. He made a face, the thought disgusted him;; it made him sick.

The front door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts… how long had he sat there watching you? Going back and forth in is mind? His mind began wondering and the lights began to fade. His shoulder drooped and he began pushing you backward, fixing you until you were both comfortable. 

“Just for…a bit…” he yawned before the lights went out.

Spencer jerked when he heard the front door unlock. He was always keenly aware of his surroundings–it was a bad habit he picked up in his years at the BAU.

JJ and Will stepped through the door as quietly as they could, the credits were rolling. The movie must have just ended. 48 minutes?

“Hey–” JJ whispered walking toward him.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but was weighed down, and upon looking–found you still sound asleep. He smiled, but when he realized JJ could see him, he fixed it to a plain expression.

Spencer held up a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes widened slightly in concern when he looked down at you. Which was ridiculous, he couldn’t stay in this position the entire night, much less on JJ’s couch. You both had work in the morning and you needed to get home. Right…but where was Hotch? How would you get home?

He was startled by your shifting movements. Upon glancing at you again, he found you stirring. JJ covered up a small laugh, and turned back to Will, shushing him as he stalked over.

“Hotch texted, he should be here soon,” JJ whispered.

Spencer nodded as you lifted your head, he raised his arms just enough for you to have free reign, if you pushed out of his hold, he’d have no choice but to let go.

But you didn’t, you pulled him closer and buried your face into where his thigh met his hip. “Five more minutes.”

JJ snatched her phone from her pocket and began snickering, “Penelope is going to love this.”

“Hey–come on, JJ–don’t–” Spencer’s protests went ignored as JJ clicked a few photos and slipped her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans.

A knock sounded on the door not a moment later, Will went to open it while JJ sat on the arm of the couch and smiled down at her two coworkers. “Do you think she can hear us?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say no, but raised a brow and glanced at you questioningly, he wasn’t sure you knew where you were, let alone could make sense of a complete sentence. “I’m gonna go with probably not.”

They chuckled to themselves. Hotch waved, before following Will down the hall toward Henry’s room. You yawned and rolled onto your back, stretching over Spencer. “Hi,” you blinked up, a slow smile turning up your lips.

He met your sleepy gaze with one of his own, “hi,” he answered.

Hotch came back out with a very asleep Jack, calling out your name, You sighed, forcing yourself upward. “Guess I better go.”

Once again, Spencer felt his subconscious take hold of his body as he held an arm across your stomach, “I could take you…I mean I wouldn’t mind, besides,” he nodded toward Hotch and Jack, “he should get Jack home.”

JJ watched in silent awe. It was one thing for Spencer to shake hands with someone let alone hug them, so when she stepped through her doors and found you snuggled up to him, her suspicion-radar was going off. Spencer definitely had a thing for you, or at the very least felt most comfortable with you. In her mind, you were his person, and that didn’t have to be romantic, it was just how it was.

Now, though, watching his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. Spencer Reid was in love. She wondered what kind of catastrophic event occurred for this to happen.

“You sure?” You murmured, rubbing your eyes. You were halfway leaning against his chest, and halfway using his shoulder to stay steady.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hotch seemed to get the gist of the conversation, whispered a few goodbyes, and headed out the door.

“You made cookies,” JJa noted.

“Yep, there’s four left, but they’re probably all stale now.”

“Well, maybe you two can babysit again and make me fresh ones.”

“I helped, you know,” Spencer added.

“Yeah, ‘helped’ so much I almost had to buy you a new pan.” After a good laugh, you stood and stretched, catching Spencer’s yawn, “well, it’s getting pretty late, we should head out.”

“Alright then, drive safe.”

“I’m always a safe driver.”

“I know you are, Spence.” She pressed her lips together, glancing at you, wondering if you even felt a smidgen of what Spencer felt for you.

The car ride was smooth, Spencer had been over a few times, and with his memory, he knew the way by heart. “Thanks for doing this.” You grabbed his hand as he pulled into your complex.

Spencer jolted, his head jerked down: his focus on where your hands connected. “Oh–sorry, I forgot–”

You snatched your hand away, but Spencer was quick to grab it back. “No–no it’s…” he stared at you. He could lose his mind and still be able to put a name to your eyes. They were like none he’d ever seen–which is opinionated, of course, in his mind, you were all there ever was. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I…know how you hate people touching you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged sheepishly, “but when it’s you it’s okay.”

Your heart leaped at that and maybe it was because you were half-awake and when you were half-wake you became even more delusional than you were daily. “So, you don’t mind if I touch you?”

“No, not at all.” He replied immediately as if he had been programmed to.

You couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way onto your face, “good to know.”

You opened the car door and started exiting his vehicle. “Hey, —?”

“Yeah?” You yawned again, the sky a blue-black kind of color.

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” You frowned.

“You know,” he tried motioning with his hands, which only made you snort.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “no idea.” You spun around, starting the path to your apartment, “see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

Spencer frowned, he knew he would think about this the rest of the night, if he could sleep he’d probably dream about it, and when he woke up, it would most definitely be the first thing on his mind.

a/n: lol i've been working on this forever (like a month) and i cried in my maths a few days ago because i couldn't understand it–#mathisnotforme

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[missdynamighttt]

can you pretty please write something based on the song Would You Fall in Love With Me Again from Epic? I was thinking like, barbarian bakugo but he went to war or somethin’ and finally gets home to his wife?

the village gates loomed in the distance, barely visible through the morning mist. the scent of rain and blood clung to the air, but for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo paid it no mind. his fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his armor worn from war. his sword, heavy as the burdens he carried, hung loosely at his hip.

he had returned. but would she still want him?

his steps slowed as he neared the familiar path leading to their home. it was still there—unchanged, untouched as if time had waited for him. the wooden beams, the carved symbols of protection along the frame, the worn stone path leading to the door. a home he had built with his own hands.

a home he feared he no longer belonged in.

the door creaked open before he could knock.

“katsuki?”

there she stood. his wife. his love. the woman he had fought for across a thousand battlefields.

you.

you looked just as he had remembered and yet… not. there was something in your eyes, something weary, something knowing.

"is it really you?" your voice trembled, your hands gripping the doorframe as if to steady yourself. "or am i dreaming again?"

his throat went dry. he wanted to say something—anything—but all he could do was stare.

he had imagined this moment a hundred times, had whispered your name into the cold night air of distant lands, had prayed to gods he no longer believed in just to see you again.

but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the right to reach for you.

"you look... different," you whispered. "your eyes… they look tired."

his lip curled, not in anger, but in some bitter, broken thing that resembled a smile. "that ain't the only thing that's different."

you took a step closer, hesitant, searching. your gaze trailed the hollows of his cheeks, the sharpness of his jaw. your fingers twitched as if aching to touch him, but you held back. 

a sharp breath left him. he knew what you saw. he wasn't the man you had once known. he was something else now. something ruined.

"i'm not the man you fell in love with," he admitted, voice rough like gravel. "not the man you married."

you flinched, but you didn’t look away.

"i'm not your husband anymore," he continued, his voice quiet, pained. "my love... would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all i've done?"

your breath hitched. "what... have you done?"

katsuki shut his eyes. when he opened them, they were dark with memories he wished he could forget.

"left blood on every fuckin' battlefield," he sighed. "traded soldiers like weapons. hurt more lives than i can count." his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "but every goddamn thing i did… was to come back to you."

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "so tell me. would you still love me?"

your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. you studied him again, truly seeing him, the man he was now—the weight he carried, the sins etched into his skin.

then you turned, walking deeper into their home. katsuki's chest ached as you disappeared from view. maybe this was it. maybe you couldn’t—

"could you do me a favor?" your voice drifted from within.

"what is it, my love?" his brow furrowed as he followed, stepping inside for the first time in years. the air smelled of you. of home. 

you were quiet for a long time, the wind whispering between you. then, at last, you stepped forward, eyes steady. 

you turned your gaze to the large wedding bed in their home, carved from the sturdy olive tree that had stood as a silent witness to your love since the beginning.

“that bed,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “could you lift it? carry it far away from here?”

his blood ran cold.

“how could you say that?” his voice cracked, the anger, the exhaustion, the heartbreak all colliding into one. “i built that bed with my own fuckin' hands. carved it from the tree where we first met. the only way to move it is to—”

his breath caught. he looked at you, realization striking him like lightning. his chest ached. his arms, worn from war, longed for your warmth.

“…you knew."

you stepped closer, cradling his face in your hands. his hands came, gripping your waist as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

a small, trembling smile touched your lips. "only my husband would know that. so i guess that makes you... him."

his knees nearly buckled. he surged forward, hands cupping your face, his forehead pressing against yours.

tears slipped down your cheeks, but you smiled, truly smiled, as your hands finally touched him—fingers ghosting over scars and bruises and the remnants of war.

"i will fall in love with you over and over again, katsuki," you whispered. "i don't care how, where, or when. no matter how long it's been. you are mine.”

he crushed you to him, burying his face into your hair, his body shaking. katsuki swallowed hard, his vision blurring. “i told you… i’m not the same.”

"you're always my husband, katsuki," you murmured. "i've been waiting for you. i would have waited forever."

katsuki's arms tightened around you, grounding himself in your warmth, your love, your unwavering belief in him.

"you don't have to anymore," he whispered. "i'm home." 

katsuki held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go. the weight of years, of battles, of bloodshed, all crumbled beneath the warmth of your touch.

you swallowed hard. “how long has it been?”

katsuki exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper.

“twenty years.”

a breath hitched in your throat. twenty years. twenty years of waiting, of uncertainty, of praying that the man you loved would return to you. “god, katsuki…”

“i thought i’d never make it back to you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i thought—” he stopped himself, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours. “i don’t deserve this.”

"don’t say that," tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his face, your fingers trembling. “i love you.”

his breath shuddered. he had been through war. he had seen death, had taken lives, and had lived in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. and yet, nothing had ever struck him down the way those three words did.

a harsh, broken laugh escaped him, and he pressed his lips against your forehead.

“i love you more. always have. always will.”

you sobbed, burying yourself in his chest as he held you tighter, his body shaking from exhaustion, from relief, from love.

and for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo finally let himself fall. back into the home he had fought so hard to return to. back into you, his wife.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 2 • JEY USO

author's note: happy valentines' day my beautiful angels💌 I hope you are having an amazing day, whether you have a special someone or not, I love each and every single one of you🥰 part two of SLC is hot and fresh for y'all, just like part one it'll be short n' sweet but with a little bit of heat this time as promised😌 I hope you enjoy and happy reading💗!

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI), time-lapse, slow burn, lap dances, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, touches, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, jey is a certified munch™, daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, mama, baby, babygirl), these mfs don't even know they're in love already (well jey does but cherise? poor baby needs a little help).

word count: 2.6k words

read part one here!

soundtrack playlist

3 months later…

Nursing school wasn’t a walk in the park.

Cherise sat at a cramped desk in the back corner of the library, eyes flickering between the highlighted notes in her textbook, a whiteboard full of her scribbled thoughts, and the lukewarm iced caramel latte beside her. Her braids were up in a bun, her glasses perched low on her nose, her purple scrubs wrinkled against her frame.

Nothing about her in this moment screamed Candy.

No stilettos. No glittering lingerie. No sultry confidence.

Just Cherise.

Quiet, focused, tired as hell.

Balancing school and dancing wasn’t easy, but it paid the bills. The club gave her freedom—let her work when she wanted, let her make rent in a single night sometimes and maybe give her a boost a confidence. It wasn’t forever, but for now? It worked like a charm.

Still, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to only be Cherise.

No stage names. No personas. No men sexualizing her with grabby hands and ravenous looks in their eyes.

No thoughts about a certain wrestler who disappeared on her for months. She hated that she even thought about him. It wasn’t like she expected him to chase her, but still…That night had lingered.

The way he touched her. The way he talked to her, teased her, made her feel like he actually saw her as a human. He was smooth, but it never felt like a pick-up line with him.

And then…nothing.

Not a single glimpse of him at the club since.

She wasn’t pressed, though. She had other things to worry about. Like passing her damn pharmacology exam. Cherise sighed, rubbing her temple. She needed a break.

And a drink.

Which meant…

Back to the club.

♡

Cherise had been backstage, touching up her lip gloss, her hair, and fixing her outfit, when Trinity had strutted up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You got a visitor, sweets.”

"Huh?" Cherise barely glanced up, adjusting the strap of her tiny lace bra. "Who?"

"That fine-ass Samoan you was tryna act like you ain’t been thinkin’ about."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. Her heart kicked up a notch.

"Shut up."

"I ain’t lyin’." Trinity leaned in, whispering.  "Jey is in VIP right now, waitin’ on you girl. Cherise felt heat creep up her neck. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, forced her face into Candy’s confident smirk.  "That man ain’t nothin’ special."

Trinity laughed.  "Girl, if you don’t take yo’ ass out there so I can get Jim all to myself…”

So she did.

♡

And when she pushed open that VIP door? He was right there, sitting back on the couch like he owned the place.

Clad in a blue Nike fleece tracksuit. Thick thighs spread wide.  He had a gold grill peeking out when he grinned, one hand resting lazily on his knee, the other draped over the couch.

Looking good as hell.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Damn, ma… took you long enough." His voice was slow, teasing.

"Didn’t know you still remembered me." She smirked, sauntering closer, deliberately dragging her nails down his chest as she straddled him. "Been a minute, Joshua."

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, hands settling right on her hips.  “You miss me, baby?"

"Mmm." She rolled her hips just enough to make him suck in a breath.  "I shouldn’t… but maybe a little."

"That’s cute." His hands slid lower, squeezing the curve of her ass.  "Been busy, mama. Mania comin’ up. You know how it is."

"Do I?" She arched a brow. "I wouldn’t know, since somebody ain’t keep in touch."

"Damn…" Jey chuckled, gripping her tighter. "That what we doin’?  You tryna guilt trip me ‘cause I got a job?"

"I’m just sayin’." She traced the chain around his neck, lips barely brushing his jaw. "I give a man my name and he vanish on me.  Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

"Nah, see it ain’t even like that…” His grip flexed on her hips, voice dipping lower.  "I was tryna be respectful, baby girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smirked, leaning in.  "’Cause the way I wanted you last time? I’d have fucked you silly if we weren’t on a time limit." Cherise shivered, heat flooding her stomach.

Jey felt it too, the way her thighs twitched in his lap.

"Mmm…" He licked his lips, voice thick with heat.  "See that, baby?  You tryna act all tough, but you feel me talkin’ to you, huh?"

"Shut up." She should have more control over this, more restraint, but Jey was dangerous. He could see through her entire ‘Candy’ act like cellophane. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?" Her breath hitched. Jey groaned, voice gravelly. "I’on like unfinished business, baby girl. You left me high and dry last time."

"Maybe I like making you work for it."

"Yeah?" His fingers trailed between her thighs, barely grazing the heat of her pussy.  "Then lemme clock in, mama." Cherise gasped, hips jerking. "Jey-”

"Shhh." He kissed her, slow and deep, groaning into her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties. "Mmm, baby…" His fingers brushed against her slick folds, teasing, just barely pressing inside. "You feel so good, damn."

She whimpered, biting her lip.  "Jey-”

"Nah, I got you, mama."* He sucked at her throat, voice husky.  “I’m gon’ take real good care of you."

Something about the way he said that sentence made her almost want to melt away all of her resolve and let him take complete control over her.

Almost.

A shudder rolled through her. Jey noticed.

“Aww.” His grin was wicked.  “Is that what you need baby?”

Cherise’s breath hitched.  “Just…shut up and do something..”

"Oh, I’ma do more than that."

His fingers found her clit, swollen and throbbing, rubbing the nub in slow circles. Cherise gasped, hips jerking into his touch, her body betraying her even though she wanted to play this game a little longer.

"Shit…" He licked his lips, his free hand gripping her thigh, spreading her wider over his lap.  "You been sittin’ here actin’ like I ain't been on your mind, but this lil’ pussy tellin’ me somethin’ different, mama."

Cherise bit back a whimper, glaring down at him.  "You talk too much."

"And you still soakin’ my hand.” His fingers slid through her slick folds, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure where she needed it.  "Mmm, damn, baby… I missed this."

"You ain’t even had it yet, Jey."

"Not yet." His grin was pure sin, eyes locked on her face as he dipped one thick finger inside her, slowly.  "But I’ma take my time wit’ you.”

Cherise’s head tipped back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips. Jey felt the way she clenched around him, her hips subtly rolling to meet the slow pump of his hand. "That’s it, baby girl…" His voice was dark, husky, dragging his finger out almost all the way before pressing another one inside.  "Let Daddy feel you."

A full-body shudder rolled through her.

Jey smirked. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Cherise bit her lip, cheeks heating, but she wasn’t about to admit anything.

"Mmm." Jey kissed her throat, tongue flicking out to taste her skin as his fingers curled, pressing just right against her g-spot. "Don’t gotta say it, pretty girl.  Your body already tellin’ me everything I need to know."

"Fuck…" Cherise whimpered, fingers curling into his hoodie as pleasure spiked through her. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, mama." Jey’s pace picked up, his fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, messier. "You hear that?" He groaned, grinding his palm against her clit. "Listen to this lil’ pussy, drippin’ all over my hand, damn…"

Cherise could hear it—lewd, sticky, wet sounds echoing in the dimly lit room.

Her breath hitched, hips bucking against his touch. "Jey-“

"Nah, baby, we ain’t done yet." His hand suddenly disappeared from her panties, making her whine at the loss.

Jey grabbed her by the waist and flipped her, laying her back on the couch, his body looming over her, heat radiating from him like a furnace. "Been waitin’ too long for this, mama…" He licked his lips, gaze locked right between her thighs as he spread them apart. "Lemme taste you, baby."

Before she could protest—not that she even wanted to—Jey lowered himself, dragging her panties down to her ankles with his fingers. "Ohhh, fuck…" His voice dropped an octave, eyes dark with pure hunger.  "Goddamn, baby… look at you."

Cherise squirmed under his stare, trying not to let it affect her. "You gon’ eat or just sit there and admire?" Jey chuckled, but his grip on her thighs tightened.  "Nah, I gotta take a second, baby… You just got a pretty fuckin’ pussy baby… shit, I knew you would." She whimpered, clenching at his words.

Jey could sense it.

"Awww, baby…" He grinned, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.  "She likes when I talk to her, huh?” Cherise’s face burned, but before she could throw out a smart remark, Jey’s tongue pressed against her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!” Her hips jerked, but Jey held her down, hands locked around her thighs as he devoured her. "Mmm, there we go…" he moaned into her, lips wrapping around her swollen clit, sucking slow, deep, dirty.  "Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby… goddamn…"

Cherise’s fingers flew to his short curls, gripping tight as he worked her with his tongue.  "Jey… oh my God-“

"Mmm-hmm…" Jey hummed against her, sending vibrations straight to her core. "You like that, baby? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah—fuck—" She gasped, thighs trembling.

Jey smirked against her, dipping lower, tongue dragging through her folds, fucking her with slow, teasing licks. "Mmm, yeah… gon' fuck around and give me a sweet tooth, mama."

Cherise let out a shaky moan, back arching as he flattened his tongue against her again, again, sucking, licking, tasting like he was starving.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey murmured, voice dripping with sin as he slid two fingers back inside her, curling them just right.  "C’mon, mama… make a mess on my tongue."

"Jey—fuck, I’m cumming—ohhhh!" Her body snapped, pleasure ripping through her as her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave. Jey groaned, keeping his tongue and fingers right where she needed them, working her through every aftershock, swallowing every drop of her arousal.

"Mmm, good girl…" His voice was pure gravel, lips shiny with her slick as he finally pulled back, dragging his tongue over his lips like he wanted to savor the taste.  "Damn, I love this lil’ pussy, baby… look at her, still twitchin’ for me…"

Cherise could barely move.

Her legs shook, body weak, head spinning.

Jey grinned, leaning down, kissing her slow, deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "See what you been missin’, mama?" She hummed against his lips, still floating. "Mmm… maybe you should remind me again…"

Jey chuckled, nipping at her bottom lip.  "You bad, girl…"

A sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

"Time’s up, Candy!”

Jey let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead against hers.  "Man… fuck."

Cherise giggled breathlessly, brushing her fingers down his jaw.  "Guess that’s my cue.”

The knock on the door lingered in the room like an unwelcome intruder. Cherise sighed, pushing her trembling thighs together, body still buzzing from the way Jey had just worked her like he owned her.

This man is dangerous.

Jey sat back on the couch, one arm slung across the top, legs still spread like he had all the time in the world.  His smirk was lazy, smug, and damn near irresistible.

"Time’s up, huh?" He licked his lips, his hand sliding down his face as he looked her over. "They ain’t even let me finish makin’ you mine, mama."

"Please." Cherise rolled her eyes, smoothing her hands over her thighs before standing on slightly shaky legs. "I think you finished plenty, Joshua."

The way she said his name had him sitting up straighter, that cocky grin softening into something warmer.  "Damn, you really like callin’ me that huh?”

"What else would I call you?" she teased, bending slightly to grab her panties and pull them back up to her hips.

His gaze didn’t miss a thing, the soft, teasing shift of her voice, the way her hands moved over her body.

"I could think of a few things." His tone was low, playful, with just enough edge to let her know he wasn’t entirely joking.  "Daddy would sound real good comin’ from your mouth."

Cherise’s lips parted, blood rushing to her ears, but she only shook her head and smirked as she reached for his hand.  "You gon’ keep playin’, or you gon’ let me write this number down before I change my mind?"

"Go on, then." He handed her a pen, his gaze steady as she took his hand, her nails lightly grazing his palm as she began writing. "I don’t usually do this," she murmured, her voice quieter now, softer than her Candy facade. "You better not make me regret it."

Jey tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Mama, you really think I’d fumble somethin’ like this?"

"Mmm, I guess we’ll see." She capped the pen, slipping it back to him, but didn’t pull her hand away just yet.  Her fingers lingered against his for a moment longer, and when she looked up, Jey was staring at her like she was his whole world.

"Get home safe," she said softly, her voice more Cherise than Candy now.

"You too, pretty girl."* He gave her a smile, the kind that wasn’t cocky but genuine, the kind that made her stomach flip.  "Don’t be actin’ shy when I hit your line, though."

She laughed quietly, adjusting her skimpy outfit.  "I’ll think about it."

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet heat of the VIP room.

♡

The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in through the cracked window.  Cherise lays in bed, tangled in her cozy blankets, her body still sore, her mind still replaying the night in vivid detail.

She didn’t even know why she’d given him her number. It completely out of character for her. She didn’t do things like this—getting caught up with clients, letting them get under her skin.

But Jey…

Joshua.

Something about him felt different.

Her phone vibrated on the pillow beside her, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the darkness.

Her heart skipped.

She reached for it, thumb swiping over the screen, and there it was.

Unknown number: You still up, baby girl?

She smiled, biting her lip as she stared at the text for a moment.  Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Cherise: Maybe. Why? 👀

The three little dots appeared immediately.

Jey: ’Cause I’m thinkin’ bout you. 😘

Her stomach flipped.

Cherise: Oh really?

Jey: Hell yeah. Shit, I can still taste you on my lips, baby girl. 👅

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together at the memory.

Cherise: You’re ridiculous🙄

Jey: Nah, I’m serious. Been waitin’ three months to see you again, and now all I can think about is how bad I wanna see you outta that club.

Cherise blinked, rereading the text twice, her breath catching in her throat.

He wanted to see her again?  Outside the club?

Cherise: I don’t know if that’s a good idea…

The reply came almost instantly.

Jey: Why not? You scared I’ma make you fall in love wit’ me?😏

She rolled her eyes at the screen, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

Cherise: Boy, goodnight. 

Jey: Goodnight, pretty girl.  Sweet dreams. ♥️

She set the phone down beside her, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile on her lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But damn, it felt good.

taglist: @bebesobrielo @zillasvilla @harmshake @amandairene88 @pr0tost4r @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @4milly @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @bloodlinesbabe93 @punksyeet @xbriexx @li-da-savage @partypoison00 @theusotwinzcom @fearlesschimera @luvrsluxe @kiki1704 @chasssssworld @a6mberr @empressdede @clubsoft @ctinadiva @acknowledge-reigns @queeny23 @ariiaellbtheedonn @luuvprincess @brianochka

if you'd like to be a part of my taglist, sign up here to be the first to see my newest drops! 🫧

[whoopsyeahokay]

Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW)

Wally Clark x fem!reader

___________________________💦

Wally is exactly the type of romantic who sweeps you off your feet. He's goofy, charming, affectionate. Always finding ways to touch you when you and he are with your friends. Holds you close and keeps you in his arms, on his lap, against his body on the couch that you and he usurp for yourselves at Movie Night. He's all about forehead kisses and laced fingers and cradling your cheek as he tells you how much he loves you. Brushes your hair out of your eyes and smiles at you like you're the only person in the world he can see.

Wally is exactly the type who soaks up compliments like a sponge, has both an ego and an insecurity that needs attention. He revels in your praise and devotion. He's attentive and loyal, there when you need him at the drop of a hat. Pulling up in his Mustang, ready to dote on his passenger princess, hand on your thigh as he drives one-handed, fingers digging into your flesh while he watches the road. He's into sweet gestures and reassurances. Respect. Thoughtful gifts just because and more thoughtful actions when you're not feeling well.

But Wally is also the type to whisper dark promises in your ear when you and he are surrounded by people in the hall, pressing against your back as you rummage through your locker, his hand roaming under your shirt to smooth up your stomach, fingertips teasing the edge of your bra. He wields his self-control like a weapon off the field as much as on it, grinding his hard cock into your palm through his jeans, his hand tight around your wrist—"Do you like what you do to me, baby?"—after he drags you into an empty classroom because he spent lunch watching Jackass Jake Tremblay flirt with you for your vote. "You like how hard I get just for you?"

Wally is also the type to get possessive, hard bites on your neck, sucking a necklace of bruises into your collar that you can't hide under your shirt. He wants everyone to know you're his. He makes you remember with his fingers in your pussy, dragging them in and out as he nips your ear, "No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else can see you like this." And you whimper and beg, writhing beneath him, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eats you out, lips and tongue and light grazes of teeth, staring at you through his lashes, memorizing every sound you make as he edges you for longer than you can handle, fucks you with his tongue, tastes you like a feast made just for him.

Wally is exactly the type to fuck you until you scream. He starts slow when you're already on the brink, cock thick and heavy, teasing himself against you as he kisses your breasts, sucks your nipples, one hand on your throat—a reminder, a promise—while he strokes himself with the other, flushed tip against your entrance. "You need me right here, don't you baby?" And then he rocks into you in one deep, grinding motion, stuffing you so full you might burst. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream my name, baby girl." It's rough, hard, he grips your thigh tight enough to bruise as he bites your bottom lip, licks into your mouth, makes you squeeze around him. "So tight, baby, so good for me. You want me to make you come? You think you earned it?"

Wally is definitely the type who fucks like an animal after he sees another guy talk to you, but he's also the type who gets off on making you wait for that sweet release when it suits him. But even he has his limits, begins to pant and groan, hips moving faster, hands around your wrists where they're pinned above your head, his other hand between his body and yours, spit-wet thumb rubbing your clit as he watches your face, wants to see the moment you fall apart for him and when you do, "Good girl, baby, fuck, that's it, let me feel it, baby, make me come" and you convulse around him, your pussy gripping him so tight as you come that it milks his climax from him. He moans, lips crashing against yours.

Wally is exactly the type to cuddle after sex. Gentle touches and soft kisses and loving words, fingertips grazing your cheek as he stares into your eyes in the afterglow. "I love you, baby," in a low, husky voice, forehead pressed to yours, his hand gliding down your body to your side, waist, hip, ass. He pulls you tight against him, already half-hard again, because, Jesus Christ, he's insatiable when it comes to you.

💦___________________________

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More | 💭

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions Of Sexual Activity, Pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Humor, Fluff

SUMMARY: Anotha one(a baby! yaaay!)

***A/N DISCLAIMER 💌- this is !!!NOT!!! apart of the official Just One More AU, i just thought it was a silly idea to write the fans reacting if he got you pregnant AGAIN 😭 dw, id never torture yall with five kids <333***

✮✮✮✮

Y/NUSERNAME

Liked by essence and 986,862 others

Back from 🇺🇸…with souvenirs🩷 lewishamilton

—

USER1 WHAT??? OMG

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER2 again????

USER3 ARE YOU NOT TIRED???

USER4 I CALLED IT 😭😭😭

f1 Was itching for this announcement! See them in about 17 years maybe? 🫣🤭🍼

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER5 planning for a baby that isn’t here yet ain’t crazy??? 😭

USER6 F1 having a contract ready for a fetus was not on my 2025 bingo card?

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER7 (user6) how come? they did it for a few drivers racing now 😅😂

USER8 oh they get doooown 😭

USER9 LEWIS PLEASE GET OFF OF HER MY GOD

USER10 SERIOUSLY LIKE I PROMISE SHES NOT GOING NO WHERE LET HER GO 😭

USER11 this is why she takes so long to restock the website. too busy HUNCHING 😒

ynusername hunching?????? 😭😭😭

USER12 last time she was pregnant we didn’t get that tour…🥲

USER13 mind you this is the LAST time you sabotages us 😐🫵🏽 (lewishamilton)

USER14 Please tell me this is for a late halloween costume

ynusername yeah, i’m going as me when im pregnant 🙂

USER14 (ynusername) Y/N do not play with us right now..

lewishamilton legacy 💪🏾🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒💜💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER15 YOU ALREADY HAD A LEGACY. FOUR OF THEM. YOU ARE SO INCONSIDERATE!!!

USER16 this is the greed they talk about in the bible, Lewis…

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER17 Omggg another little Hamilton 🥹

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBFF ANSWER THE PHONE Y/N???? 😭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBSF bye i should have known when you didn’t wanna hang 😪😫💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER18 No you should have known when she was out here dressing like big pun in them 7x ass clothes

ynusername (user18) Yooo 😭😭😭

USER19 You guys just finding out, meanwhile me and my husband saw her at the superbowl yesterday night. She even waved😅

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Thanks for keeping a secret! 😘💚🦅

USER20 and you didn’t snitch??? better than me

USER21 (user20) It wasn’t my place 🤷🏻‍♂️

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER22 Lewis and Giannis going baby for baby this year

USER23 Lewis is winning I fear!

essence Mama Y/N takes no breaks! And neither does Lewis we see 👀🤭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Essence…🥴🤭

USER24 HOW GREEEEEDY 😭

USER25 Soooo is there going to be a restock for the merch or does this stop it—

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername catch the restock Tuesday! Pregnancy only stops one thing and that’s me from seeing my feet 😭🩷

gq We knew first 😜

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername 🤭

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“Your fans are plotting on ripping my head off, do you see what they’re saying on twitter?!”

Lewis exclaimed and turned his phone to you, scrolling down his new notifications. You shift under the beds sheets to look at the screen, squinting slightly to read. The replies were filled with shock, as you expected, and some jokes here and there, but mostly shock. You cackle, your plump belly bouncing with every laugh.

“I can’t do anything about that! I told you if you got me pregnant again, I’d hurt you, but it looks like they’re wanting to do my dirty work”

You took the phone from his hands and cuddled up to his side as he covers the both of you with the beds duvet.

He scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for it” Tucking his head beneath yours, he bites your neck, making you tuck your chin with a giggle.

“Shut up! That was in the moment…plus, you asked me to say it”

He hums and shakes his head, remembering the night you two conceived completely different than you.

“Nah. I don’t remember asking you to say you wanted another one of my kids. Actually, I remember what you said word for word if you want me to recite it” He mischievously clears his throat, but your hand had already made it’s way over his mouth to shut him up before he even started.

“If you say anything and my babies hear, it’s gonna be me and you” You threatened, Lewis’s eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles widely underneath your hand.

Suddenly you felt your palm being wet, your instinct being to move. “EW! YOU LICKED ME!”

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💌—another reminder that this is NOT APART OF THE ACTUAL AU!! it’s just something cute i wanted to write as a scenario.

[notlongtolove]

petals and frost

hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. an agent liaison from the nyc office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. a brief attachment, hotch had said. too bad spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst w no happy ending (sowie)

content: avoidant bau reader, non descriptive mentions of sex

word count: 2.8k words

note: written for @mggslover 1k event, congrats once again my love!!! yall can blame @esote-rika for that sadistic ending, i idea dumped that on her and said i didnt know if it wld be too angsty and she begged me to use it so... fuck yalls valentines ig (anyways spencer reid, just know that i, user notlongtolove, would neverrrr do that to you)

a line: You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again.

And some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me ‘baby’ The perfect genius of our hands and mouths. - Hozier, First Time

Hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. An agent liaison from the NYC office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. You were easy to like, easy to talk to, definitely easy on the eyes. A brief attachment, Hotch had said. The phrase seemed almost oxymoronic—Spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

As it turns out, there are a lot of other things Spencer forgets around you. When you twist your hair into a haphazard ponytail mid briefing, he forgets the third personality trait of a classified sociopath. You don’t. Interpersonal offensiveness, Reid. That’s criminology 101. Emily makes a comment under her breath about his IQ being slashed in half. If you do hear her, you pretend not to. 

When you slide a beer across the table after your first case, he forgets that he doesn’t drink, masking a grimace as he takes a sip. You’re trying. He doesn’t want you to feel bad. By the time he’s on his second, his face is warm. Too fast, he tells himself. From the alcohol, definitely not from the way your thigh is pressed against his in the booth.

Later, when you’ve got him pinned against the wall under a dim lamppost kissing him breathless, he tries to forget the bureau’s policy on interoffice relationships. It’s after hours. You’re not really part of the team. You’re here contractually. A technicality. He can make an exception. 

You run your hands through his hair tugging faintly and he decides he will make an exception. 

The only thing Spencer doesn’t forget that night is the route from O’Keefe’s to his apartment though it’s a blur all the way from the cab to his apartment to his bed. He pulls you through his front door, fingers curled tight around your wrist. A tangle of limbs and lips pressed against lips feverishly, desperately—He’s certain he’s got that memorised. 

“I’m not…” you start, voice faltering between kisses, searching for the right words that just aren’t coming when you’re straddling him and he’s looking at you the way that he is, “not looking for anything… serious.”

Alarm bells go off in his head blaring amidst the euphoric haze he’s in. It’s a warning he registers but doesn’t heed. Caution. Danger ahead. He tells himself that if he squints hard enough, that if he really really tries—It’s a challenge. And Spencer Reid has never backed down from a challenge.

So he bites. Takes the bait. Plays along.

“What makes you think I am?”

You smirk like you don’t believe him but your fingers move to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt anyways. He tries to laugh when you joke about how you should definitely apply for a permanent spot on the team now, but it sticks in his throat. He distracts himself by closing his eyes.

“Spencer,” you say breathlessly, “you sure about this, baby?” 

His eyes snap open so fast it startles you, leaving you flustered, halfway to pulling back before his grip tightens at your waist, keeping you right where you are. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“W-what’d you just say?”

You blink back at him. “I asked if you’re sure about—”

“No, the—the other part. The last part.”

A pause. Then, deliberately, “Baby?”

Oh fuck. 

“Y-yeah. That.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for impact. “Say it again. Please.”

You smirk, the corner of your mouth twitching like you’re holding back a laugh as you lean down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down his bare chest, whispering against his skin, “whatever you want baby.” Spencer has to force his eyes shut again.

You mark him up in the shades of purple wildflowers. Spencer shivers at the sight of them. Theres not much talking when skin finally meets skin. Spencer’s starved, insatiable, burning hot and ice cold all at once. This okay, baby? Yes, yes, god, yes. Can I? Yes, please, please do. Sweat pools around your bodies and Spencer tries to forget how much he wants to remember this moment. The purple wildflowers bloom across his skin—deadnettle, henbit, african violets. 

Oh, he thinks, this one’s gonna hurt, isn’t it? 

When Spencer wakes the next morning, he’s only mildly afraid to open his eyes.

He’s never done this before—doesn’t know what to expect. But he knows enough to predict the possibilities. Regret. Yours, not his. Shame, embarrassment, maybe even anger. You’ll be gone. Nothing left behind but the imprint of your body on his sheets, marks of purple left in your wake. 

Spencer Reid does not like not knowing. 

So he braces himself, steels his nerves, and opens his eyes—only to be met with something far worse.

You. 

Still here.

Curled up beside him, peaceful, angel deep in sleep, gut wrenchingly soft. In sleep, you’re nothing like how you are on the field. Out there, you’re a good shot, a great one, you think quick on your feet, you’re confident, never stuttering or stumbling like he does. You’re heaven on earth, right in his bed—He’s utterly ruined for it. He doesn’t know what possesses him to move closer, to let newfound confidence guide his arm around your waist. But he does. You stir, just barely, waking to the feeling of his lips pressed into your hair.

The morning melts into something else entirely. An abandoned attempt at breakfast in bed, clothes forgotten in a scattered trail from the kitchen counter to the couch. Unsanitary, he’d think, if he weren’t already too far gone to care. The boy’s insatiable once again, chasing a thirst only you seem to have awakened in him. It’s fiery and passionate as drinks you in, icy cold hisses when you nip at his neck. But you’re neither summer nor winter. You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again. The way your nails claw at his back, marks of sinful desire turning into ivy that grows to cover you both. It’s entirely all encompassing.

God, you have him in the palm of your hand and you don’t even know it. 

Dancing around the team is its own kind of purgatory. Turtlenecks in sweltering Texas heat which you make up for with a fleeting kiss to his cheek in the break room when everyone else has their back turned. Spencer tells himself to keep his feelings in check, to keep his adoration at bay. But it’s hard to when you exist so seamlessly within the liminal spaces of the team. Always in Hotch’s good books. Cracking jokes just dirty enough to make Morgan laugh and Rossi raise a brow. Even JJ loves you.

Silently, Spencer thanks the BAU’s abysmal budget for the run-down motel they’ve stuck you in. It makes it that much easier to convince you to stay at his place—only for a night or two, maybe three, maybe four, eventually a Baby, Hotch is gonna call us in soon anyway, and the freeway near yours is a nightmare in the mornings. You might as well stay one more night. He seals with a look, a soft plea, and you cave every time.

5 months and a week is what you’ve built together. Your days are disgustingly domestic and Spencer just can’t seem to get enough. It’s not like the two of you go out much. Long days (and longer nights) in the field leave you both drained, running on fumes. Just enough energy left to call in takeout accompanied with something strong for you, water for him. Just enough left to trade lazy kisses between bites and fall into bed tangled together. This is it, isn’t it?

Waking to rushed mornings, shared showers, half-hearted protests when you insist on shampooing his hair for him. Bare feet on hardwood floors and the bumping of hips in the kitchen as he makes coffee for two. Rendezvous on a crappy motel mattress that creaks beneath the weight of both of you when you run out of clothes for the week. Baby, we shouldn’t really—swallowed by the press of lips.

Your laughter comes to him in little bursts of light. You’re his absolute heart in human form. 

The purple wildflowers haven’t made an appearance in awhile but spring blooms in his chest all the same. When you inevitably drift off to the sound of his voice reading Spencer makes a mental note to bring The Iliad when he comes to visit. You’ll probably be done with Dante’s inferno by then. The weak fistful you have of his shirt tightens ever so slightly in your sleep and he knows what you want. He turns to shut off the light and fits himself against you, tucking you closer to his chest. Spencer tries to distract himself from the fact that you’re set to leave in a month. He’d drink dry the River Lethe to forget it if he could. Instead, in the quiet, he allows himself to think about what the weather will be when he gets the chance to visit you. 

He’s always wanted to go to New York. He’s never been the best flyer and he doesn’t know how he’ll fare on a flight without the comfort of his team and the jet’s coffeemachine. It’ll have to make do, he thinks. It’s only a little over an hour’s flight. He tells himself it’s basically nothing. He can handle it. Besides, he can always make the eight hour drive, or the six hour train. The options are endless, much like his devotion to you—He’ll walk to you if he has to. 

“Do you think you’ll have time for a trip when I come visit?” Spencer asks one night, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. You’re too busy fumbling with the buttons of his pants to catch the lovelorn grin tugging at his lips. “I know there’s probably a lot to see in New York, but I’ve been saving my days off. And if I catch Hotch on a good day, I think I could carve out a few more.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know,” you murmur, distractedly, “I usually don’t get much time off when I’m back. Let me know if you are planning to come, though—I’d love to show you around for a day or two.”

The fuck? 

Show him around? A day or two?

It’s frosty. Ice cold. A slow caress of his cheek at arms length. Cruel in the way that kindness can be. He tenses beneath you, shifting upright so suddenly that you blink up at him, confused.

“Everything okay, baby?”

The frown on his face indicates he’s anything but okay. “Yeah,” Spencer lies. “I just… I just thought—I mean, you knew I was planning to come visit, right?”

You hesitate. “Spence, we didn’t really discuss that, I—”

“I know we didn’t.” He tries to keep his frustration subtle, but it slips through when he runs a hand through his hair sharply. “But this? Us? How could I not?”

You try again, gentler this time. “Oh, baby, you don’t have to. I know you’re really busy, and—”

“I want to.”

The realisation settles slowly into your features. And then, quietly—naively—he lets himself ask, “Don’t you want me to?” 

Silence.

Oh. 

Somewhere deep inside him the ivy shrivels and the purple wildflowers wither. It appears that spring has come to a close. 

“Spencer,” you say gravely, “I thought we talked about this—” He doesn’t hear the rest. It all dissolves into static, white noise humming in his skull. He hates that tone on you—the way it sounds so careful, so deliberate. Its how you talk to Hotch, to unsubs, to people that need to be managed. Never how you talk to him. Not how you talk to him when you share sly jokes and interlock pinkies at the back of the van, thighs touching when you share a blanket in the jet. Not how you talk when you whisper baby, stop, someones gonna see us when he insists on a chaste kiss to your nose and another to your forehead—Because how could he ever stop at one?

He blinks back into focus when you reach for his hand, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

He should brace for the inevitable. He knows what’s coming, but he’s too far gone for it to matter, too far off the deep end for it to hurt now. What’s a stab to the heart when you make up for it with cotton-soft kisses and a feather light touch? I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t be sad. I wish I could stay too. Don’t be mad, okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me. As if he ever could be. Not when you’re kissing him the way that you are. Still, Spencer tries to tell himself that the wildflowers that bloom into rosettes beneath your touch are fragile things. He tries to carve it into his bones to remind himself that they won’t survive the winter of your absence.

It starts with the smallest frost, like soft snowflakes clinging to his lashes, signs he might have missed if he wasn’t already looking out for them. “Baby, you shouldn’t have,” you say when he comes home with a restock of your makeup remover. Spencer only shrugs, wordless. He knows you mean it. Not out of politeness, not out of gratitude, but because there won’t be any use for it soon.

Winter calls for shorter days, for less sunlight. It brings more cases, more exhaustion, more time spent apart. Nights where Spencer wakes up to an empty bed because you’d insisted on packing your suitcase, and insisted on doing it alone. As it turns out, the cold really does bite. 

It all couldn’t happen fast enough.

Nobody bats an eye when Spencer insists on tagging along to drop you off at the airport. It’s practical, really—an extra set of hands. Even Morgan doesn’t say a word, doesn’t call him lover boy with that knowing smirk. Maybe he would’ve if Spencer didn’t already look like he was on the brink of death. Hotch keeps his goodbye brief, a quiet nod, a quick squeeze of your shoulder after he helps unload your suitcase from the van. He mumbles something about keeping in touch, about how the door’s always open. 

Spencer is the one who walks you to your terminal. You walk briskly ahead of him, fingers curled loosely around the handle of your suitcase. You’d brushed off his offer to help—All the better because he has to shove his hands into the pockets of his coat just to keep them steady. He tries to count the steps between the check-in counter and security. All in all, both literally and ironically, too little too late. 

This is finality, signed, sealed, delivered. The clock has run out. Spencer Reid is out of time. And, for once, Spencer Reid is out of words. 

So, it’s you who takes his hand, pulling him closer. Drop me a call if you ever come visit okay? I will, I will. You’ll love it there. Take care. Call me whenever. This was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so good. Too good. It’s you who tilts his chin and kisses him with such force he wants call it love. He would call it love. If you asked, he’d rip the wildflowers from his ribs and place them at your feet as proof disguised as an offering. You’re kissing like you’re trying to make him forget—where you both are, where you’re going, where he’s staying. You pull away, breathless, fingertips ghosting along his jaw when the intercom blares above you. He lets the last shreds of sunlight slip from his grasp when you walk through the gate. Spencer doesn’t stay to see if you turn back or not. He’s felt like an afterthought enough. 

The van is quiet when he climbs in.

Spencer ignores Hotch’s glances, keeps his head down, busies himself with the air conditioning. Granted, he rarely sits shotgun, but still, today, it feels colder than usual.

“She’s a great agent.”

“She is. She… worked great in the team.” Spencer’s fingers tighten around the vent. He nods, swallows around the lump in his throat. “You should’ve offered her a spot.”

Hotch’s eyes stay set on the road. “I did. JJ and I drafted a two-year contract for her.”

Spencer scoffs bitterly, “yeah? I’m sure Strauss took that well.” 

“Strauss had no issue with it.” 

That makes Spencer pause. His head turns, brows pulling together. “Then?”

A beat of silence before Hotch exhales, “she rejected it.”

The world stops. His stomach drops first, then his chest. Fragile stems and violet petals turn brittle, cracking as the frost works its way through him. Tiny pieces of petals and frost splinter his being. A brief attachment, no doubt. He should’ve known better. He should’ve noticed the subtlest change in the winds, distractions cloaked in tender touches as wandering hands made their way beneath clothes, apologies in a baby, I wish I could stay too. He really should’ve remembered to forget you. 

He feels the wildflowers inside him freeze over and with the gentlest shift of breath—They shatter.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y��know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader PT. 12

Obligatory AN: Guess who's back, back, back, back again. I've been swinging hard into a FNAF: Security breech hyperfix and have been reading nothing but sun/moon fanfic. So y'all drop your recs /hj

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine -> Part Nine 1/2 -> Part Ten -> Part 11

Warnings: Switching of roles (IYKYK), talks of abuse/mistreatment of the toons, mentions of nausea/vomit, talks of needles/ injection of Ichor (I've decided Delilah is not a good person)

☁ Your vacant blink does not give him much reassurance. You seem to register the question, fold your hands together in a nervous fidget only to use them to wring your tail. You bite your lip, eyes darting every way but their way.

☁ "...Why do you ask?" You manage to get out, shuffling just a bit. Blu pops up from where she was lounging on top of Coal, ears flickering at the sound of your voice. She murps then jumps onto the bed, moving to crawl into your lap. You occupy yourself with playing with her instead, letting her nip at your fingers and swat at your palms.

☁ "She came up in one of the files we were reading through." Astro pipes in, watching you carefully. He clocks immediately the way you curl slightly, as if to shield yourself for something you've probably suspected beforehand anyway. You're avoiding saying more than necessary, garnering how much they know and building your answer around that. Astro suspects it's a fear response, perhaps leftover from when you were with Ciara.

☁ You take this information for what it is, nodding softly before heaving a heavy sigh. Cosmo's right there beside you, rubbing your back and laying on your shoulder, feeling you shake beneath his cheek. It's a small tremble, but one nonetheless.

☁ "Ciara is-..." You immediately stop, choking on the words as they try to escape. You pause, tongue dry and too thick for your mouth suddenly before pushing past it, fighting the acid that builds in the back of your throat. "Was. Ciara was not quite my handler." You admit, retracting your hands from Blu to curl your hands into fists. As if to stop an ulterior action. "I wasn't allowed a handler."

☁ You still refuse to look at them, but they allow you the small mercy. Sprout gently places a hand on your knee, rubbing small circles into the flesh as he watches you carefully. As much as he wants answers, he doesn't want them at the expense of your own happiness.

☁ "When...When the commons started to out number the mains, Delilah and Arthur-" You groan, pressing the butt of your palm to your temple. "I-...I don't know how or why. I don't remember, but I know there was a...a trial of sorts. If they could turn a common into a main." You pause and nearly upchuck then and there, but swallow it down. It burns, speaking of it, you know you shouldn't. Who knows where Ciara is. If she knew, she'd-....She'd....She'd do nothing. She is little more than a rotten name spotting memories you can barely grasp. Like candle light in a dream you can't quite place.

☁ "Ciara was assigned to me, to get me ready to be a main. She trained me." You know they want you to elaborate, but you don't. You can't. You won't. You refuse to go back to that time. To the appointments where Delilah held you down, injecting Ichor into your flesh and documenting the effects. The changes to your arm, fur, words, thoughts, even your soul. It was like you were some great version of a patchwork project. "She wasn't good. She wasn't like Austin or Sam. She worked mostly with Delilah."

☁ There's silence for a moment before Astro is opening his mouth, "Starlight, if-"

☁ "No, I-...I just, I don't remember what you're probably asking about." You wilt and curl completely, trapping Blu between your chest and legs. She mews, but doesn't move. "I don't know if they were successful. I don't know anything beyond what Ciara wanted."

☁ "And what did she want?" Sprout asks before he can stop himself. he immediately kicks himself for it, especially as you wilt further.

☁ "To be like them. Like Austin and Sam and- and- and-" Your breath catches as you shake your head, eyes immediately shutting. Cosmo sits up enough to pull you to his chest, hushing you softly as you shake your head to fight off tears.

☁ He pets down your fur and gently murmurs against your temple, reassuring you you've done nothing wrong before. It's an act that's foreign to Sprout and Astro, watching Cosmo work, but one the cake roll is all too familiar with.

☁ Cosmo knows you. Has known you for a long time. He likes to think he's been in love with you far longer than he himself even remembers. He has memories of all kinds with you before the outbreak. He even remembers meeting you for the first time. When he was a freshly made toon, Delilah made it a point to familiarize him with the others quickly without letting him settle from his creation first. He was much too overwhelmed and the sounds were much too loud, even the feel of the sweater gifted to him made his entire body curl and cry out. You were there. You barked at the others to back off before walking up to him, laying on your belly so he could look at you without having to look up at the lights past your head.

☁ He swears that was when he fell in love with you, hopelessly pining, especially when you gently hummed a soft tune to him that he still clung to to this day. He can't explain the feeling that erupted in him the first instance of Ciara's cruelty. She was an individual driven by monetary value and chased it at the expense of anyone else; especially if it was you who paid the price. He hated it then, and he hates it now.

☁ The two of you had created a sort of routine when Ciara had gotten to the pinnacle of her nastiness. You'd knock on the frame of his bed and he'd wordlessly let you crawl in with him. You'd sleep against the wall and he'd sleep with his back to the door, hiding you under the blanket as your fingers curled around his sweated, burrowing between his neck and hood to muffle to sounds of your cries.

☁ It shattered his heart into pure dust to hear those noises, and he admittedly hoped they were long since left in the past. And then you were turned again. And the recovery began. And with that came your frustrations as to not healing fast enough for your preferences. Then this.

☁ It's the only thing he can think to do when he sees you flounder is to turn back to those old habits. He lets you hide, acts as the protector for even just a second. With the amount of times you've done it for them, he'll take every opportunity to return the favor.

☁ Sprout and Astro both send him pleading glances, begging wordlessly for directions on how to help. They've never seen this side of you and are grasping at straws on how to aid in any sort of way. Cosmo shakes his head a bit, pulling you so you're straddling him, letting you hide your face in his neck once more as he rubs up and own your back. Blu takes the opportunity to run off then, perching herself back on top of Coal.

☁ "It's a sensitive topic." Cosmo starts, feeling you practically claw at him to hold on tighter. "But you didn't know, that's not your fault." He's quick to cut in as he watches a flurry of emotions cut across their faces. "As far as we know, they weren't a main. I don't know what kind of tests they do to determine this, but they didn't pass them. If I had to guess, if they are a main now, it's evolved after being a twisted." He explains, hearing you hiccup. "That won't change anything about how we feel though, pudding."

☁ "No, oh god no." Sprout shakes his head. "Never would it ever change anything bud. We just...were curious. But should've gone about it better. I'm sorry."

☁ "I'm sorry as well." Astro wilts a bit himself, toying with his cloak. "But please trust that I absolutely agree with both Sprout and Cosmo."

☁ You sniffle once before pulling back just a big, dusting Cosmo's shoulder even if he doesn't care about what you've perceived to be a mess. "You went about it in what was pretty much the best way possible." You lips spread in a shaky grin. "Sorry I kind of freaked out."

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for, pudding." Cosmo gently nuzzles against your snout, making it scrunch. "It's just a sore spot."

☁ Sprout and Astro nod and a solemn silence falls for a second. It's thick and tangible, sweltering as it practically chokes them.

☁ Cosmo hates it.

☁ "C'mon, let's go on a run. I think it would be fun." He's already sliding off the bed, taking you with him with his hands under your thighs. You yip at the sudden action before peeling into laughter, holding on tighter. Astro and Sprout let out their own calls, quickly scrambling after Cosmo. He laughs in time with you, his heart soaring at the sound. He knows Sprout at least has the ability to catch up, but to his surprise, it's four hands to catch him and you rather than two. Astro is chuckling as he pulls back, sandwiching Cosmo between his chest and you.

☁ Sprout with all the gracefulness of a bull in a china shop runs right into the three of you and you all go toppling into a pile of giggles. It fits and it feels right, so Cosmo endures Sprout's weight, on top of Astro's and your owns, a moment longer before pushing you all off.

☁ He stands to dust himself off, pretending not to notice the soft moment you share with Astro and Sprout, both giving their own apologies once more before your waving them off and pressing soft pecks to their lips.

☁ By the time you make it to the elevator, the four of you are laughing like you normally do, with inside jokes and petty little squabbles mixed in with sneaky little pecks. However, because of that, others have clued in that a run is going on and wave you off. Glisten and Goob are the first to spot you both, seperating much further than they probably should be if what they were previously doing wasn't anything scandalous. You say as much, turning on your heel to run the second Goob's arms stretch for you. You don't make it far before he's pulling you back and your stuck, Goob's knuckles digging into your head as you squirm before breaking free.

☁ It's a normal run, with the barest idea of possibly getting Rudie Research, but still full of all sorts of jokes and laughter. Floor by floor, each machine is done well and quickly as you distract, and you're shocked by Sprout's prodding to learn how to distract as well.

☁ He's fast enough and had grabbed Toodle's trinket on the way out rather than Vee's remote, so you obliged, sitting on a nearby table with an airhorn ready whenever it was a single twisted floor. He kept up easily, maintaining a good distance between himself and his test twisteds. You watched carefully though, attention only diverting whenever Cosmo or Astro came up to check on the two of you.

☁ You were honestly proud of Sprout, telling him as much as you both jogged into the elevator, taking great pride in his pink cheeks as his leafy tail gave away his elation. You leaned in further to make your paint, poking his cheek even as he swatted at you, Cosmo and Astro even joining in as well.

☁ Then Dandy showed up. His eye was twitching, as it does, once more focused on you with a strained smile on his features. You give him a much lighter one, lips upturning to showcase your newly sharpened teeth from your time as a twisted. It makes Dandy lean back, just a smidge, meeting your gaze with a simmering one of his own.

☁ "You are quite the pain." He sneers, smile never faltering. You feel Sprout hover behind you, one of his hands gently laying on your lower back as Astro and Cosmo watch with baited breath. Dandy's twisted form wasn't scary anymore. Not to you. He was too slow and too sluggish to be a real threat after you realized this, the biggest concern being when he decides to try and strike. He's predictable in that sense though and you can tell it's coming from a mile away.

☁ "I've been told." You practically purr, giving a devious little smirk. "Gonna throw another fit about not getting tapes?" You push further and Sprout's hand on your back becomes more insistent.

☁ "Bud, c'mon now, remember what happened last time." He urges, thinking back to how Blu came into your lives. He's unsure of the power Dandy has and isn't willing to test it. To your credit, you do back off a bit before Dandy's snarl turns sharp and full of teeth.

☁ "That's right, listen to the main, Common."

☁ You whirl around before Sprout can catch you, hurling threats at the flower as his elevator descends and your left spitting out all sorts of venom.

☁ "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" You cry out, stomping your feet angrily as your hands curl, as if strangling him. Your boys are too busy watching you, Cosmo and Astro admittedly hiding behind Sprout before your taking in a deep breath. "I need to calm down first." You shake your head and take one more deep breath. "This is fine."

☁ "You...sure? We can call it? This was already further than we planned." Sprout tentatively offers, and you nod. "No, I'm having fun, he just...pisses me off." You fully settle at last giving them a smile. "Unless you all are admitting you're finally tired of me."

☁ Astro scoffs at this. "Tire? Of you? Please. Don't insult me." He turns with a flourish, the cape of his cloak following him with a trail of stars as you snicker. Cosmo's already rolling his eyes at the dramatics, but Sprout gives the other a soft smile.

☁ "Oh, of course, of course, how dare I." You tease, and the elevator opens once more. You go to take off before stopping, eyes immediately darting to the object in front of you. It looks like a smoke bomb, and you probably would've encouraged Cosmo or Astro to take it, it not for the glaring green color staring up at you. The other three come up behind you, peering over your shoulders at the new object. You blink. They blink. The thing doesn't move.

☁ "There's a unanimous decision to not touch it, right?" You question, getting a trio of agreements right away. You learned your lesson the first time and carefully try to maneuver around it. However the sound of a snap makes you perk up, immediately tackling Sprout, who was spotted by a twisted Scraps. Cosmo and Astro scramble back a few steps as you land on Sprout, but the attachment on her tail continues and crashes into the new object. Green smoke erupts around the four of you and you immediately wave your hand in front of your face, helping up Sprout who scrunches his nose at the smell. It doesn't really smell, but it's thick. It's like smog, choking you and you hate it.

☁ What you hate more is the sudden tug at your body. Nothing is grabbing you, but you feel something yank at your chest, pulling and pulling until something sharp snaps and it's gone. It almost feels like something else is snapped into it's place, but it's chunky and doesn't fit right. It's like if you swallowed a piece of chip too big, but it shifted halfway down and is now awkwardly lodged in your throat as it makes it's way to your stomach.

☁ The green smoke clears, but Scraps is still right there, so you have no room to wait, immediately taking off despite it all feeling wrong and off. She snaps at you and you're stunned for a second as it digs into your arm. You should've been much further then you were, but a glance back shows that you weren't. You put much more effort into running a second time rather than the usual jog you do, hiding behind a box as you take a breather. You check your trinkets, but they're just fine. Working as they should.

☁ Looking over the box, you're able to spot the other three, similarly freaking out behind a box. You glance back at Scraps, seeing her wander off with a frustrated shake of her head.

☁ You quickly dart to where they're hiding, Cosmo immediately shaking your shoulders. "What was that?!" He hissed, checking the injury pearling Ichor on your shoulder. It's not that bad, but it's still worrying.

☁ "I-I don't know. I wasn't-...." You pause, glancing back to the dust now laying on the ground as remnants of the object. Your eyes widen at this, looking to Astro, Cosmo and Sprout, they don't look any different, but something feels off. The normal warm aura that seems to come from Sprout at any given time has been disturbed, no longer there in a settled hum, but rather missing entirely. From the other end, Cosmo seems like he's practically vibrating with new energy, ready to peel off in the same way you normally do. Astro seems out of sorts as well, looking at his hands like he's missing something. He turns them over, then flips them again, then once more before shakily setting them on the ground. The normal lights glimmer out, but rather than feeling a burst of adrenaline, your wound closes up, sealing itself into little more than dried ichor staining your fur.

☁ There's silence before all four of you scream. Astro is freaking out, looking at his hands while Sprout is flipping them every which way. Cosmo is pulling your arm closer, inspecting it like it was some sick trick. You have one hand pulling at your head, fingers threading into your fur as you cry out. "What is going on?!"

☁ You don't get the answer as the yells have drawn Scraps attention back, and with her comes Toodles, already darting for you. You scramble, pushing at the boys to all move it. You would normally try and distract, but you have no confidence in your own abilities currently so you stick with them for a worst case scenario. You only gape as Cosmo's much faster then he's used to, tripping over himself and into Sprout, who yelps, taking Astro with him.

☁ You rush to pull them each up, Astro and Cosmo going first as Sprout slaps a hand on the ground to push himself up, only for it to feel like a shot of adrenaline was pushed straight into your nervous system. You gape at this once more before pinning it, pulling them into a room out of the way and hiding behind a desk. The four of you take a moment to pant, slowly settling from the entire ordeal.

☁ You drag your hands down your face, taking a breath and mentally counting in your head before exhaling. "Okay. So. Somethings wrong."

☁ "Something's wrong? Something's wrong?!" Astro grabs at his hair, pulling it slightly with two of his hands while the other two shake in front of him. "I HEALED?!"

☁ "Yeah, I got that, i was there." You gently unthread his fingers from his hair, soothing the stands slightly as you hold two of the hands in your own. "I think...we switched." You spit out, ears perked for signs of any twisteds.

☁ "Switched?! How is that even possible?!" Cosmo cries out. "So-so-so-so what?! Sprout is now our Astro equivalent? And Astro is Sprout?"

☁ "It didn't take any tapes, so it's more likely you and Astro switched." Sprout explains, running a hand through his leaves. "Okay, okay. Let's work this out. Cosmo, don't think we didn't see you. You and Y/N probably switched. So there's that. i switched with Astro, and Astro switched with either myself or Cosmo. How do you feel?" He turns to the celestial who swallows.

☁ "...Like I got hit." He answers slowly and Sprout nods. "Okay, so Cosmo got faster, I got weird stamina powers, Astro can heal like Cosmo does which leaves-" He turns to you. "You. You have my power."

☁ You swallow at this, clenching Astro's hand tightly. Looking into your inventory pouch, you quickly count your tapes, nodding at the surplus in there. "I don't know how to heal."

☁ "You didn't know how to make Blu appear and still did that." Sprout jokes, even if it sounds flat. It makes you snicker anyway before Sprout continues. "Just...try to imagine the energy of the tapes moving into Astro. It should-...should do the rest itself."

☁ You slowly nod at this, and do it, envisioning a small strand connecting to Astro from the tapes. Something settles then pulls taut before snapping. The bigger portion slithers towards Astro before lifting and your bag feels lighter. "This is insane."

☁ "I don't know how to distract, I don't wanna distract!" Cosmo cries out.

☁ You shake your head. "No, no, you don't have too. I should still-" You pause. "Actually, I don't know. I don't know how to distract without my speed." You wilt, and this time Astro squeezes your hands.

☁ "Then we'll have to be sneaky, won't we?" Astro prods just a bit, nudging you until you smile. "C'mon. If anyone can handle this, it's us. We got this. Just...do as we normally do. But behind more walls." He nods, standing and taking you with him even as you yelp.

☁ Sprout and Cosmo stand up as well, shooting each other a grin. It should be fine, It would be fine.

☁ It was not.

☁ You would later say that floor was by far. The Worst. Floor. You've ever done. Cosmo kept tripping over himself, not used to anything more than his usual saunter, slamming against the floor and calling the attention of the twisteds. Luckily, you stuck nearby, switching trinkets with him as he begrudgingly kept the twisteds on his tail.

☁ You would take over every time you could, switching with Cosmo intermittently as you found yourself at odds as well, nearly getting your ankles snapped on by Toodles since you weren't used to being conscious of your speed.

☁ Astro has his own difficulties as well, trying to stick between hovering to ensure neither you or Cosmo would get too hurt and having to catch himself from trying to give you both stamina, frustrating him at every turn.

☁ Sprout, on the other hand, seemed to be having a blast, despite the three of you glaring at him every time he popped by, letting Astro's own power roam like it was his before taking off. He found himself enjoying the lack of stress that came with healing, and admittedly found himself chuckling at the sound of the three of you scrambling every time one of you tripped or stumbled. He knew you'd be fine, they weren't overly awful twisteds and with all three of you there, it would be stressful, but scraps wouldn't snap without a clear target. Which she wouldn't have with all three of you running like chickens with heads cut off.

☁ he finished the last machine with a click of the vee-mote he took from Astro, hearing the elevator open and the three of you take off. He met up with you guys right away, letting a final thrum of Astro's power hum. Cosmo has one last tumblr which sends both him and Astro tumbling into the elevator with you following and Sprout being the final one.

☁ It shuts and you waste no time sending them back up. There's silence before you giggle, then you cackle then you're giving full on belly laughs as you clutch your stomach. "That was awful." You cry out, head tilting back as the hormonic sound echoes.

☁ Cosmo is quick to follow, still on top of Astro, which makes the celestial laugh, and before any of them can stop it you're all laughing at the absurdity of it all.

☁ In the very least, at least there wasn't another Blu.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 3rd-9th 2025

Less than a month until 9-1-1 is back on our screens babyyyyy! how's everyone doing after that kiss hug in the rain scene???

Complete

You And I Walk A Fragile Line (I Have Known It All This Time) by pinkpeachtea (Hug In The Rain Spec | 1,3K | Teen): "Eddie?" Buck asked, voice breaking on the name as he noticed the car door opening again, staying open– probably getting the entire interior wet. And it was hard to see- especially through the rain- but if Buck wasn't just hallucinating, it'd actually look like… He was walking right towards him. Careful at first, slowly, until his steps got quicker– jogging that turned into running. Buck could feel his feet again, though he had no control over them as he found himself walking towards Eddie, meeting him not quite halfway when he came to a halt and– "Why did you stop?"

lull of you by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together | 1,7K | Teen): For as long as Buck can remember, Eddie’s ability to express himself has left him in awe—the way that, although it sometimes takes a minute for him to get there, whenever he’s ready, he’ll rip his heart out of his own chest and present it on a silver platter. With a thumb pressed to Buck’s pulse point—or both—and deep, warm, earnest eyes. Buck has never been like that—he goes all out before he’s even sure what he feels; he’s dramatic and emotional, and clingy, and his emotions often run his actions miles ahead of his brain. (Not that he hasn’t come to terms with that by now—he is who he is, and he’s learned to appreciate it.) The interesting thing is, though—despite his regular habit of rushing things to beat his tendency to overthink in a lap around the racetrack—for once, tonight, his brain feels… quiet. Calm.

& such by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (87K | Teen): prompts and spec fics and codas and all the works jumbled mumbled into one place.

22. reunions (Eddie back from Texas | 2K): Buck kind of—avoids Eddie when he gets back.  He knows he shouldn’t. The thing is, his heart still feels so bruised. It still feels like it’s lying there on the road, soaking up the gravel and the cement and the area just under Eddie’s tires, and he’s—tired. He’s tired. He just wants a second, to recuperate, before he goes back out there and pretends like everything is okay. 

No Take Backs by Maximoff_Wanda (Friends to Fiances | 2K | Not Rated): “Marry me,” he blurted out, causing the other man to freeze and turn to stare at him. “What?” Eddie slowly lowered himself down on one knee, keeping eye contact with Buck, his blue eyes widening as he watched Eddie sink to the ground. Somewhere in the background, he hears a woman squealing as she notices what’s happening. Eddie clears his throat, grabbing one of Buck’s hands as a crowd starts to form around them. “Buck... Evan. There is nothing more that I want than to spend the rest of my life getting pretzels with you at the zoo listening to your endless fun animal facts while you buy our son sugary confections that he doesn’t need just because it makes him happy... So will you please marry me?”

When I see you again by Maximoff_Wanda (Hug In The Rain Spec | 2K | General): Buck sighed as the sky opened up and a drizzle of rain began to pour over them as they walked out of the Diaz house toward Eddie’s truck. Of course, it had to rain the day the love of his life left for Texas. Now that he’s thinking about it, Buck realized it was always raining when Buck and Eddie lose each other.

i knew it when you looked my way (that i'd be begging you to stay) by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (Hug In The Rain Spec | 2K | General): When Eddie pulls Buck in, Buck melts, wrapping one arm over his shoulder and the other under his arm, palms wide to cling to as much of Eddie as he can hold. Buck’s chin settles in the crook of Eddie’s neck and he breathes in deeply, trying to commit to memory the blurred together scent of Eddie’s deodorant and shampoo and the petrichor hanging in the air. “I miss you already,” Eddie says into Buck’s ear, stubble scraping against Buck’s cheek as his mouth moves. With one last squeeze Eddie pulls away, clapping Buck just a little too hard on the shoulder. “I should probably get on the road,” Eddie says, stepping away. “Drive safe,” Buck replies, stepping after him. Eddie slides into the driver’s seat and shuts the door, drops the bag of scones into the seat next to him. He resolutely doesn’t look into the rearview mirror as he adjusts it.

But What A Ghostly Scene by icewhisper (S4, Coma Dream | 3K | Teen): Eddie had always thought if he came close to death, it’d be Shannon or his abuelo he saw who pushed him to go home – to go back to Christopher – but when a sniper nearly killed him, it was a little boy he dreamed of instead. Nearly two years later, he realizes who that little boy was.

with a little water and a little bit of sunlight by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (S8E8: Wannabes | 4K | Teen): “You flipped the tablet.” “Did I?” Lord only knows how he carried out an emotional affair as long as he did if this is how good he is at lying. Buck clearly has come to some—wrong—conclusion, given the way he smirks and cocks his head. “What're you looking at, Eddie?” His tone is a little flirty, a little suggestive, and if Eddie were any less close to a panic attack he'd probably think the gulf between what Buck assumes he'd been doing and what he was actually looking at was very funny. — The one where it's not Homes.com but it's also not porn on the iPad.

let's go get the shit kicked out of us by love by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): “Are you Love Actuallying me?” Eddie looks about as surprised that those are the words coming out of his mouth as Buck is to hear them. “Oh my god, what?” “Love Actually. That freaky kid who’s like thirty now but still looks like a ten year old. Runs through an airport, gets himself put on a no-fly list for love? Are you Love Actuallying me?” “For fuck’s sake, has everyone seen that movie but me?” Buck has to laugh, it’s absurd. This whole thing is absurd. He wants to rip his hair out. He also, as of thirty minutes or maybe six years ago, wants to rip Eddie’s shirt off, but that’s not his main focus at the moment.

Will you still be with me (when the magic’s all run out?) by scarmaddiewrites (Witch Buck AU | 5K | Not Rated): Buck is a witch and in love with Eddie…that really it.

Cupid, Q-Words, and Cursed Shifts by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S8A, Valentine's Day | 5K | Teen): A slow shift at the firehouse gets derailed when someone accidentally says the Q-word, Eddie pines over Buck, and the new Probie panics about Valentine's Day.

I’ll tell them put me back in it (and I would do it again) by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 5K | Teen): Eddiaz is listening to the slowburn friends to lovers playlist. Eddiaz listened to the POV you’re falling in love with your best friend playlist. Eddiaz listened to the sad gay yearning hours playlist. Eddiaz listened to the he was my best friend and that was the worst part playlist. Or, Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them.

Eddie Diaz's Emotional Support Group Chat by scarmaddiewrites (Chat fic, Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 6K | Teen): Eddie makes a group chat to help him with his plan to woo Buck… It goes about as well as you think it would.

promise what you will, something good for me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fake Relationship, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Eddie forms a one-sided beef with a woman claiming to be psychic and ropes Buck into a fake dating scheme to try and prove all her predictions wrong.

your slightest look easily will unclose me by teaspoonmoon/ @young-waverer (S8E6: Confessions, PWP | 7K | Explicit): Eddie takes in a deep breath and reaches out and sets his hand on Buck’s knee, fingers wrapping around his lower thigh, pinky brushing his inseam. “Hey. If you were my first, you’d be my last.” The air is still between them and feels charged in a way it wasn’t a moment ago. Careful not to dislodge Eddie’s hand, Buck stretches his arm out to grab the tequila. Watching Eddie out of the corner of his eye, he knocks back another half shot. Eddie doesn’t retract his hand, and the heat of it is starting to seep through the denim of Buck’s jeans. “Sure.” Buck sounds weary. “That’s easy for you to say, when it’s—when it’s just hypothetical.” “What if…” Eddie’s grip on Buck tightens marginally. “What if it wasn’t a hypothetical?”

We're Overdue for a Revival by BespectacledBunny (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris coming back from Texas, Marriage of Convenience | 60K | Mature): “If I had,” Chris lingers on the words, watching Eddie intently through the screen, “If I had conditions?” Eddie feels his stomach knot up. It’s the first time Chris has ever alluded to a willingness to come home. Usually he just shoots Eddie down with a flat “I know” before hurrying off the call. Eddie Diaz will be damned before he lets this chance slip through his hands. “Anything,” his voice rings with desperation in his own ears, “Whatever you need to feel ready to come home. If I can make it happen, I will.” Chris eyes him, young face serious as a judge presiding over trial. Finally, Chris opens his mouth and says something so earth shattering as to crack the foundations of his father’s mind. “Marry Buck,” Chris says firmly.

WIP

🔥 there is no roadby littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie moves to Texas | 5/6 | 77K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.

🔥 how come everybody's dancing but you?by showedupatyourparty (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 4/6 | 45K | Mature): Buck feels guilty. Everyone he loves is going through something painful, difficult, or unexpected right now. And Buck is just…bisexual. It’s great that he’s figured it out, and it’s great that everyone has been so supportive, and Tommy is—Tommy is fine. The sex is good, at least. Consistent. When Buck gets a call from Eddie’s phone late on a Tuesday night in June, it’s cause for concern. * Buck unpacks his own feelings about his recently-discovered bisexuality. Eddie gets adopted by drag queens. They're both just trying their best to be happy.

disappearing into the distance by bucksclipboard/ @endofthedaymp3 (Eddie Comes Back From Texas, Getting Together | 2/4 | 6K | Teen): Eddie wasn’t sure why he and Maddie weren’t close. It was strange, considering her little brother was the most important person in his life. Still, when the door opened, tight hugs were exchanged and cheerful welcome homes rang in his ears. “Does Bobby know? I gotta call Bobby!”, Chimney yelled. “Could you wait a minute?”, Eddie interjected. His eyes darted between them for a moment and landed on Chim, deciding he was his best bet. “Maybe first explain to me why I went to see Buck and his loft was empty. Am I missing something? Did he move?” or: eddie comes back from texas – only to find that buck has left los angeles

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 13/? | 81K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 12/? | 54K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

Podfic

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Universe, Different First Meeting | 2.5h-3h | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 [podfic] braver than you believe (loved more than you know) by be_brave13/ @djemsowhat (S8E6: Confessions Spec | 20-30min | Teen): “There's things,” Eddie chokes out, getting the closest he can in a Catholic church to saying what he means to say, words that he’s never said before unable to make an appearance even now. “There's… people… feelings that I— I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.” “Something… different than what you had with Anna and Marisol?” The priest hedges. “Something, even, different than what you and your wife had?” The words feel insinuating, but the tone stays light and unchallenging. The priest in Eddie’s mind has big hands and curious, soulful eyes and a chunky watch on his wrist, like he could be anyone. A blond man at a bar that Eddie’s eyes keep coming back to, for no reason at all. “Yeah,” Eddie confesses. “Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought. Maybe, I can ask for what I thought wasn’t allowed. And I can choose what I want instead of what everyone else thinks I should have.”

🔥[Podfic] Promising Light by cottagepodfics @cottagepodfics / fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Time Travel | 2-2.5h | Mature): Buck and Eddie fall asleep drunk and in separate rooms after the night of Buck and Tommy's breakup. They wake up seven years later, in an unfamiliar future, only to find out that they're married.

[yois2aki]

wc. 4.2k

cw. fluff, smut, worshipping, caleb is head over heels for you, he calls you pipsqueak during it, use of toys, bondage, unprotected sex, edging, fingering, caleb admits to being a perv at some point

the night was quiet, the only sound in the room the soft rustling of the sheets as you shifted closer to caleb. the warmth of his body enveloped you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back a soothing rhythm. his arm was draped over your waist, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles against your skin, as if he needed to remind himself that you were real.

“you’re still awake,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper against your ear. it wasn’t a question—he knew you too well, could tell by the way your breathing hadn’t evened out yet.

you hummed in response, shifting so that you could turn and face him. in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, you could just barely make out the softness in his expression, the way his gaze lingered on you as if you were the most precious thing in the universe.

his fingers brushed against your cheek, featherlight. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of something tender, something reverent. “do you know that?”

you felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a slow and steady burn that settled deep in your chest. “you always say that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a breath.

“because it’s always true,” caleb countered, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “every time i look at you, it’s like i fall in love all over again.”

your breath hitched slightly at his words, at the way his voice dipped lower, softer, meant only for you. he had always been protective, always intense in the way he loved, but moments like these—where his entire world seemed to narrow down to just you—left you feeling weightless.

his hand slid down, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on the small of your back, pulling you even closer. “i love the way you fit against me,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along your temple. “like you were made just for me.”

you shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his voice wrapped around you, warm and intimate. you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. he smelled like home—like something safe, something constant.

caleb let out a quiet hum of contentment, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing along the bare skin of your spine. “i could stay like this forever,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “just holding you… feeling you against me.”

your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed closer. “me too.”

he smiled against your hair, his breath warm as he whispered, “i love the way you say that.”

you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, a teasing glint in your eyes. “say what?”

“me too,” he repeated, his thumb stroking lazy circles against your skin. “like you mean it.” his eyes softened, his expression turning impossibly tender. “like i’m your home, the way you are mine.”

your heart clenched at his words, at the sheer devotion in them. you reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before guiding him closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. he sighed against you, his grip tightening as if he never wanted to let go.

when you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers threading through your hair. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “more than anything. more than the planes in the sky, more than the air in my lungs.” he let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “god, i love you so much it terrifies me. every time i remember the things i would sacrifice for you, i get scared."

you felt a lump form in your throat at the raw honesty in his voice, the way he bared his soul to you without hesitation. “caleb…”

he shook his head, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “i don’t think you understand what you do to me,” he murmured. “how you make everything feel right, even when the world is a mess. i don’t care where we are, what happens, as long as i have you.”

your fingers tightened around his shirt, your chest aching with how much love you felt for him in that moment. “you have me,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “always.”

his breath hitched, and for a second, he just held you there, his grip unrelenting, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go. “you promise?”

you reached up, cupping his face between your hands. “i swear it.”

caleb exhaled, something in him finally settling, and then he was kissing you again—slow and deep, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. his hands traced your sides, his touch reverent, worshipful.

“i love every part of you,” he whispered against your lips. “the way you smile at me when you think i’m not looking. the way your nose scrunches up when you’re focused. the way you sigh my name when you’re falling asleep.” his voice dropped even lower, barely audible. “the way you let me love you.”

your eyes burned with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his affection. “caleb…"

he shook his head again, silencing you with another kiss. “you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “just let me hold you.”

you nodded, burying yourself against him, and he tightened his arms around you, pressing soft kisses along your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “i’ll never stop loving you,” he whispered. “never.”

the words settled deep in your heart, filling every space with warmth. and as you lay there, wrapped in caleb’s arms, his voice a constant murmur of love and devotion, you realized that no matter what happened, no matter where life took you, you would always be safe here—in the quiet of the night, in the strength of his embrace, in the love that bound you together.

caleb’s hands moved slowly, reverently, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. his fingers traced the curve of your back, his touch featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine. the warmth of his palm pressed against your skin, grounding you, making you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“you’re so soft,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek, then lower, grazing the edge of your jaw. “so perfect.”

your breath hitched as he tilted your chin up, his fingers tracing the line of your throat. his touch wasn’t hurried—it was deliberate, lingering, as if he wanted to savor every second.

you sighed as he pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “caleb…”

he hummed in response, his lips curving into a small smile. “i love the way you say my name,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with emotion. “like it belongs to you.”

his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling it from your body. “it does,” you murmured, your voice barely above a breath.

his eyes darkened, something tender and intense flickering in them as he gazed at your naked torso. “yeah,” he agreed softly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “it does.”

he suddenly made you lay on your back, his position shifting to stay on top of you. hands moving to your waist, his fingers splaying out against your skin as he pulled you even closer, your bodies perfectly aligned. his touch was gentle but firm, like he wanted to hold you there forever.

the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world. he tasted like warmth, like safety, like home. every brush of his lips, every soft sigh that escaped between you, felt like a silent promise—one of love, devotion, and unwavering need.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your back, his touch both soothing and electric. “i never want to stop touching you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled, your fingers threading through his hair, relishing the way he leaned into your touch. “then don’t.”

his breath hitched at your words, and in the next moment, he was kissing down your neck, his hands roaming your sides, holding you like you were something fragile and precious. but there was a hunger in the way he moved, a deep, aching need to be as close to you as possible and claim you as his.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “how much i need you."

you let out a breathless laugh, your heart racing. “then show me.”

a soft, reverent groan escaped him as he pulled you even closer, his lips trailing down your collarbone, pressing slow, lingering kisses to every inch of skin he could reach.

“i plan to,” he whispered, his voice full of love, devotion, and something deeper—something that made your heart stutter and your body melt into his.

the night stretched on, filled with soft whispers, gentle touches, and endless love, as caleb made good on his promise—to hold you, to cherish you, to love you in

"relax, pipsqueak," caleb's deep voice resonated, his sulky tone adding a touch of exotic charm. his breathing sent a shiver down you spine, and you found yourself nodding, eager to surrender to his expertise.

caleb sat up, his long legs brushing against your bare thighs. you felt the warmth of his skin, and a rush of excitement coursed through your veins. his strong hands rested on your knees, and he gently caressed your skin, his touch sending sparks of pleasure up your legs. "tell me, do you trust me?" he asked, his eyes holding yours in a captivating gaze.

"yes," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "i trust you, caleb."

a slight smile played on caleb's lips, and you swore you could see the way his gaze changed. he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. "good. i'm going to make you feel like the luckiest woman alive, baby." with that, he stood up, his movements graceful yet commanding. he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on, noticing the way you cringed at the sensitivity in your eyes.

you could just make out caleb's silhouette as he moved towards the dresser. he opened a drawer and retrieved a small black bag, the contents of which clinked softly as he placed it on the bed.

"you'll let me use this to make you feel good, right?" he questioned, his voice a soothing murmur in the darkness. "first, i want you to relax and let go of any inhibitions." he guided you to lie back on the pillows, his hands gently urging you into a comfortable position.

obeying his instructions, you allowed you body to melt into the soft mattress. caleb's lips traced your collarbone once again, sending shivers down your neck. his touch was firm yet gentle, and you felt yourself surrendering to his will. "breathe deeply," he instructed, his warm breath caressing your cheek. "in and out, just like that..."

caleb's hands moved down your body, his fingers, stopping just where he stared at. he felt his entire body warm, and immediately pulled his shirt off to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling, revealing his muscular build.

his hands moved to your breasts, and his touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you. his fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching them gently, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan.

"that's it— fuck..., you sound so good," caleb whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "let the pleasure consume you." with that, he moved his hands lower, his fingers deftly grabbing the hem of your shorts and sliding down. you lifted your hips to aid his efforts, eager for his touch.

the cool air caressed your bare skin as caleb slowly slid your underwear down your legs, his hands brushing against your inner thighs. his breathing hitched. he'd seen you naked like this many times before, but every time it happens he genuinely thinks he's fainting. "my beautiful princess..."

you felt your wetness, a testament to your growing desire. caleb's fingers trailed along your sensitive skin, making you squirm with anticipation.

"you're so responsive," he murmured, his voice filled with approval. "i can see you're ready for more." he positioned himself between your legs, his knees pressing against your outer thighs. you felt the heat of his body, and your core throbbed with need.

caleb's hands explored you intimately, his fingers stroking your wetness, spreading your essence along your folds. "you're so wet, so ready," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "are you that desperate for me? want me to show you all my love?" he teased your clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to send waves of pleasure through your body.

as he continued to stimulate you, your breath became shallow, your moans filling the room. caleb's fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. just as you were about to climax, he withdrew his touch, leaving you teetering on the precipice of pleasure.

"not yet, beautiful. i'm sorry," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "i'm going to draw this out, make it last." he reached into his bag and retrieved a small, sleek vibrator. "this will help us... is that okay, princess?"

as soon as you nodded, caleb positioned the vibrator against your clit, and as he turned it on, a low hum filled the room. the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure through your body, and you gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. caleb cursed as he held the toy firmly, controlling the intensity, ensuring you didn't find release too soon.

"she likes that, doesn't she?" he asked, talking about your squelching pussy, his voice a low growl. "everything about her... it's so perfect. she's so desperate like this. my girls." he adjusted the vibrator, moving it lower, pressing it against your entrance. slowly, he eased it inside you, filling you with a delightful sensation.

the vibrator pulsed within your insides, and caleb's fingers worked in tandem, massaging your clit as the toy stimulated you from within. your body trembled, and your moans grew louder, echoing off the bedroom walls. caleb's control was slipping, and his hand seemed to start shaking exactly when he was to push you to the brink without letting you fall.

"please... let me come," you whimpered, looking up at him with pleading eyes, your voice hoarse and desperate.

"pipsqueak, fuck... don't do that," he whispered, his own need aching between his legs as he sucked in a heavy breath against your ear. "i want you to beg for it. show me how much you want it."

caleb's words sent a surge of desire through you, and you arched you back, pleading for release. he increased the intensity of the vibrator, and your body shook with the effort of holding back your awaited orgasm. "please, caleb, please let me..."

"keep going, my love," he insisted, his voice firm yet laced with desire. "you're doing so great, pretty girl..."

"please, caleb, i beg you..." you whispered, your voice raw with need.

caleb's control seemed to falter at the sound of his name on your lips. still, he withdrew the vibrator, and you whimpered in protest. but he wasn't done yet. he reached into his bag once more, this time retrieving a pair of soft silk restraints.

"trust me," he whispered, securing your wrists gently to the bedposts. "i need to see you tied up for me, pipsqueak."

caleb's eyes gleamed with a mixture of protection and desire as he stood over you, his body a powerful presence in the dim light. he resumed his position between your legs, his fingers replacing the vibrator, stroking your wetness, and bringing you back to the brink of ecstasy.

"now, my love, let go," he commanded, his voice a deep, commanding rumble. "let her pleasure consume you."

his words were like a spell, and as he worked his magic, your body exploded in a cascade of sensations. you cried out, the orgasm ripping through you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over your cunt. caleb's fingers continued their relentless assault, drawing out your climax, making it last, ensuring you experienced every exquisite moment.

as your body trembled and your cries filled the room, caleb leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. he then tasted her release, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of her orgasm. you clung to him, your wrists straining against the restraints, as your body continued to convulse in aftershocks.

finally, as your orgasm subsided, caleb released your wrists, his hands moving to caress your face. "my baby, my love," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with a promise of more. "you did so good for me, my angel. you deserve a reward."

and you, breathless and sated, could only nod, your body still buzzing with the intensity of the experience.

he captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you completely. caleb’s hands continued their exploration, sliding lower and lower until he cupped your ass, squeezing the firm flesh roughly.

breaking the kiss, caleb spun you around and forced your head down into the pillows, pushing your ass up by grabbing your waist. “i've wanted to do this since the moment i came back home,” he rasped, running a hand over the smooth expanse of your backside. “got a boner just from staring at your back while you baked like a damn teenager."

you whimpered, your body aching with need. “please, caleb. i need you.”

caleb pulled down his sweatpants and stroked his hard, throbbing cock through the fabric of his undergarments.

"remember when i told you i went showering?" he sighed, throwing his head back as he got rid of his last piece of clothing. he made eye contact with you through his entire speech, as if confessing his sins. "lied through my teeth. had to bust one out real quick, otherwise i'd just take you there. insane."

"that's how much i love you, baby," he rubbed the tip against your slick entrance, teasing her mercilessly. “so beg for me, pips. beg me to fuck you. again.”

“please, caleb,” you pleaded, your voice breathy with desire. “fuck me. make me yours.”

with a growl of satisfaction, caleb opened the bag to remove the largest sized condom he could find. tearing it open with his teeth, he slid it down his shaft, something in his gaze changing.

he leaned forward and slammed into you, burying himself deep inside your tight heat. you cried out, walls contracting around him as he began to move, setting a hard, fast pace. the bed creaked beneath you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room.

“fuck, love,” caleb groaned, his fingers digging into the sheets as he pounded into your pussy. “you feel so fucking good. so tight and wet and perfect.”

you could only moan in response, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of caleb's cock filling you, stretching you, claiming her. you arched your back against the bed, meeting his thrusts with your own, desperate for more, for everything he could give you.

caleb reached around to rub your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. “come for me, pipsqueak,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “come all over my cock.”

your body tightened, another orgasm building with each thrust, each touch “yes, caleb,” you gasped, your head falling backwards as you teetered on the edge. “i'm going to come. i'm going to come so hard.”

“fuck, yes,” caleb growled, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “come for me, baby. now.”

with a scream of ecstasy, you came, your body convulsing around caleb's cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. caleb followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside your hole as he spilled his hot seed.

you collapsed onto the bed, caleb's body covering yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. after a moment, caleb pulled out, his cock slipping free of your still-quivering pussy. he slowly lowered your thighs, massaging any area of your body that had been under too much pressure and kissing you deeply.

“that was incredible,” he murmured against your lips. “i love you, baby. love you so much.”

you smiled, eyes shining with satisfaction. “i had no idea you were such a passionate man.”

caleb chuckled, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “i try my best to keep my emotions away, but with you, i find that impossible. you bring out a side of me i never knew existed.”

you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. “i like this side of you, love. the side that’s not afraid to take what he wants, to claim what’s his.”

caleb's eyes darkened with desire, his cock already hardening again at your words. “is that so? and what if i told you i want to claim you again, right here, right now?”

your breath hitched, body already responding to his words, to the promise in his eyes. “then i would say that i'm yours, caleb. yours to take, yours to claim, yours to fuck until neither of us can move.”

caleb growled as he took off the previous condom, tying it before throwing it somewhere. his hands sliding down to grip your ass as he lifted your hips to meet his. “my good girl,” he rasped, spreading her thighs wide.

“because i'm going to fuck you again, and again, and again, until you’re screaming my name and begging me to stop.”

you moaned, your head falling back as caleb's fingers found your clit, stroking the sensitive nub with expert precision

“yes, caleb,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. “fuck me. make me yours again and again.”

caleb didn’t need to be told twice. he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with need. he didn't care about a condom this time, and straight up slammed into her, filling you completely. you cried out, walls tightening around him as he began to move, setting a punishing pace that had the bed shaking beneath them.

“fuck,” caleb groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “you're so fucking tight. so perfect. i could fuck you forever.”

“then do it,” you panted, nails digging into the pillows as you urged him on. “fuck me forever, love. make me yours for eternity.”

caleb growled, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper. he could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening as he neared the edge. “i'm going to come, baby,” he warned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “i'm going to fill you up, mark you as mine.”

“please, caleb,” you begged, body trembling beneath him. “come inside me. give me everything you have.”

with a roar of pleasure, caleb came, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her. you followed him over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you milked him for every last drop.

your collapsed together on the desk again, caleb's body covering yours as you both struggled to catch their breath. after a moment, caleb lifted his head, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“that was incredible,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “you're incredible.”

you smiled, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “i could say the same about you, caleb. i never knew sex could be so intense, so all-consuming.”

caleb chuckled, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, sweet kiss. “it's not just the sex, pipsqueak. it's you. you bring out something in me that i never knew existed. something i never knew i needed.”

your heart swelled with emotion, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “i feel the same way, caleb. i never thought i could feel this way about anyone, but with you, it’s different. it’s special.”

caleb's eyes softened, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “you're so beautiful, you're so mine. and this is real. you're real. and i'm not going to let you go.”

your heart soared, a laugh bubbling up from your throat. “i don’t want you to let me go, caleb. i want to be with you, always. no matter what happens, no matter where life takes us.”

caleb smiled, his eyes shining with love and happiness. “i love you, baby. love you so damn much.”

you kissed him then, pouring all of your love, all of your devotion into the kiss. caleb responded in kind, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

you stayed like that for a long moment, lost in each other, in the love and passion that had blossomed between you.

[kayawolfhorse]

The sun sets molten across the server, brushing the horizon in strokes of fiery reds and sickly, lurid golds. Rivulets of light drip sluggishly between the boughs of the dark oaks around Grian and glint against the diamond blade held loose at his side—a mere precaution, in this space between one held breath and the next. The night is young enough to have not yet spawned its monsters, and evenings are an agreed-upon respite this early in the game.

Grian flexes his hand around the sword as he walks. As newly-crafted as it is, the leather grip is still stiff, and it cuts a hard crease into where his time ticks away between the green lines of his palm. The heart and the life lines, he vaguely recalls, working in tandem to cease the pulse at his wrist. Who had told him that? It doesn’t matter.

The din of the day has faded into a buzzing hum that reverberates across Grian’s nerves. His shoulders feel pinched within the confines of the jacket Joel had wrangled him into. The grass doesn’t sound quite right beneath his soles. There is a sense of wrongness that clings to the back of his neck.

“Fancy seeing you here!”

His blade is at Scar’s throat before Grian can register the movement. “Scar!” He lowers his arm and glares. He does not put the sword away. “You can’t do that to a man.”

Scar’s grin is far too crooked to be anything close to the sheepishness he tries to sell it as. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, meaning approximately none of it. “Beautiful day we’re having, isn’t it? Would you just feel that breeze! The air is ripe with opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” Grian says drily. “Were you following me?”

“It’s all coincidences, Grian, all coincidence,” Scar says with a wink. His tinted glasses are perched rather precariously on his face. Behind them, in such low light, his eyes look odd. “I just happened to be in the area! That sword is completely unnecessary, by the way.”

“Do you want something? Is that what this is?”

“Can’t a guy just visit with his favorite bread bridge boy?”

“Bad Boy,” Grian corrects, and immediately wonders why he bothers. “And anyway, I’m hardly on favorite grounds.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Scar waves him away, and his striped shirt—predominantly buttoned for once—ripples with it. “Joel’s definitely crossed off the potential list, we can rule him out. Jimmy and you are about even on the mischief meter, but between you and me, you wear those sunglasses better.”

Grian wrinkles his nose. “They weren’t my idea.”

“And yet here you are, wearing sunglasses after the sun’s gone down.”

“On my head.” Grian gestures at where they’re propped in his hair to emphasize his point. “You’re over here actually wearing yours. Why are they blue, anyway? That’s got to make the world look weird.”

“Oh, they do,” Scar agrees. He slides off his glasses and takes a moment to consider them before, without warning, turning them around and sticking them on Grian’s face.

Grian’s sputtering protest dies in his throat as Scar adjusts where the glasses lay behind his left ear, brushing the shell of it in the process. Scar’s skin is rough with callouses and his touch is gentle. Grian is suddenly, inexplicably warm.

Once satisfied with his work, Scar takes a step back and tilts his head. The blue tint of the glasses does color the world strangely, but every observation of it is taken from Grian’s peripheral; his field of vision seems to have narrowed to encompass Scar alone. Like this, his eyes appear sea-green, and it’s nicer than the near-fluorescent shade his current life gives him, but Grian can’t help but think of kinder worlds and the lovely, lively emerald they bring with them.

“Well?” Scar prompts.

After Grian’s remembered how to breathe, he huffs at Scar. “Now I’m wearing two pairs of stupid glasses—hey!”

Scar steals Grian’s sunglasses and slides them into his own hair, and it’s stupid, really, how well he pulls them off. He strikes a pose and asks, “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot,” Grian deadpans, but the quirk of his lip betrays the straight face he’s trying to keep. This is the problem with Scar: no matter what may lie between them, regardless of the sides they stand on, it never takes Scar long to slip between the barbs of Grian’s scowl and soften the points into a smile.

Scar is entirely too aware of such an issue for Grian’s personal liking, if how his eyes crinkle at the corners is anything to go by. “A matching pair we make, then!”

“Hey, now, don’t go lumping me into this.” Grian’s sure the blue glasses look silly on him without the context of the rest of Scar’s get-up.

From a nearby tree, a spider leaps towards them with its mandibles splayed. Grian strikes it down in two hits; after it disappears, he turns to raise an eyebrow at Scar.

“Maybe the sword had some use,” Scar concedes, “but not against me!”

“We’re both green; I wouldn’t have killed you anyway,” Grian remarks.

“Of course, of course, that comes later.” Scar is easily wry and comfortably teasing.

“Of course.” Grian smirks. The night is dark. The faint, flickering light of a nearby torch illuminates Scar’s lingering smile—a small, private thing, accompanied by a slight pitch in his brow. Grian’s voice comes out lower than he means it to as he says, “Best be getting back, yeah? You wouldn’t want to lose time to some old skeleton.”

“Bedtime waits for no man.” Scar nods. “Especially if you’re teamed with Bdubs.”

Grian laughs. His fingers twitch at his side for something he can’t name but feels twisting in his chest. “Goodnight, Scar.”

“Goodnight, Grian!” With one last flash of his teeth, Scar’s unprotected back recedes further into the forest as he heads for the Clockers’ base. A beat passes, then another, as Grian’s feet remain rooted in place.

Nearby rattling shakes him of his stupor. Sighing, Grian passes a hand over his face as he starts in the direction of the bridge. Belatedly, he realizes he’s still wearing Scar’s glasses.

He folds them carefully into his pocket before he reaches the Bread Bridge. The world’s strangeness no longer has the justification of a filtered view. The stars don’t look quite right above him.

Before beginning the climb to the half-burnt mansion’s roof, Grian lightly touches the glasses’ translucent rim. He does not think about too-green eyes and too-indulgent smiles. He does not think about blood that always stains the same.

He’ll give the glasses back tomorrow.

[s0fter-sin]

pt.3 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here and pt.2 here!

cw mild horror, fear

johnny opens his eyes

or- he thinks he does

it’s completely black, not a speck of light to be found anywhere; certainly not the lantern he’s started keeping on by his bed or the moonlight that should be coming through the curtains

he remembers falling asleep on the couch; he was exhausted after ripping out the fresh carpet from the sitting room, the pristine thing at odds with the smoke stained walls. it didn’t match any of the carpets or rugs in the rest of the house, too modern compared the vintage fittings and, new or not, that bothered him so it had to go

he just hadn’t been expecting the giant brown stain embedded in the hardwood underneath

he was turning over the pros and cons of buying a floor sander if he ever stopped foot off the property again, promising himself he was only resting his eyes for a moment, and before he knew it, he was out

now he doesn’t even know if he’s awake

“ghost?” johnny whispers. his voice echoes strangely; muted like he’s an in enclosed but long space and bouncing off things he can’t even hope to see

he has no idea where he is. he’s not in the basement, not with how dark it is; even the little cloudy window would be a wellspring of light compared to this. it smells damp too; musty with stillness, like not much air gets to it

johnny sets a hand in the soft dirt beneath him and sits up, some kind of cloth falling off his shoulders. he reaches out with shaking hands, searching for any kind of balance - a wall, furniture, something - and slowly gets to his feet

“ghost, you here?”

his fingers meet nothing but open air and he almost tips over. he has no equilibrium, nothing grounding him; the dark so all-consuming, he might as well have not moved at all

air dances over his cheek and he gasps and spins around when a large hand latches around his wrist and johnny hisses as he’s tugged blindly forward

“ghost?” he asks and the hand tightens

he doesn’t know what to do with the relief trying to warm his belly

“hey, slow- slow down, i can’t see,” he gasps, stumbling over the uneven ground. the whole thing bowed and curved, gravel flicking out into the depths with every step like it was carved out by hand and never smoothed out

johnny swallows hard and clutches at ghost’s arm with his other hand

“ghost, can… can we go back upstairs?” he whispers, futilely pulling at his sleeve. something old and animal in him claws at the inside of his skull, baying and screaming that he not raise his voice; to not break this unnatural still darkness too harshly. “please?”

ghost just leads him deeper into the void

until he suddenly stops and johnny covers his mouth to mute the beginnings of the scream ripping from his throat when he runs into his back. he digs his fingers into his cheek, forcing a slow breath through his nose

“…you want to show me something?” he guesses and flinches as the air in front of him rushes like ghost’s moving very quickly. something scratches, like rock on rock, and he flinches as he takes his other wrist and cups his hands around something big

ghost’s hands fall away and johnny reflexively clutches the thing to his chest

“don’t leave,” he begs. “please don’t leave me down here.”

silence

he runs his dry tongue over his lips. “ghost?”

those same hands close around his biceps and johnny all but melts into the body-warmth at his back. ghost smooths down his arms, covering his hands with his, and pulls the thing away from his chest to eye-level

like he expects johnny to be able to see it

the way he can

johnny frowns, rubbing over the thing with his thumb. it’s heavier than he expected from the sound it made along the ground; smoother than the rocks he’s seen around the property and the gravel he kicked around down here

ghost’s chin drops on his shoulder and he jumps, pausing as he rolls into his neck and he can clearly feel the wide grin on his face

he blinks and something makes him press back into him, to try and see him with his body. there’s a cleft in his top lip he’s never noticed before and he’s practically shaking, rocking against his back like he’s trying to urge him to go quicker

johnny spins the rock around in his hands, trying to feel what it is, what would make ghost so - almost childishly - excited. his fingers catch on a crater, shallow and smooth like it’s been carved away. he drags his fingers down and feels another, around the same size. his frown deepens and his fingers slow as he finds another hole, this one going straight into the rock

ghost shifts behind him, his grin widening against his skin and something in johnny curdles, his hair standing on end

it feels like he’s not breathing, the dark so complete it’s stealing the air from his very lungs as he works his fingers down the rock; stuttering when the texture suddenly changes. he hits a fissure, then another, another; curls his fingers underneath and feels it flatten out. strangely familiar grooves run along it before it changes and becomes thinner, becomes sharp-

johnny screams

johnny screams and drops the human skull ghost placed in his hands

he throws himself away from ghost and runs blindly into an earth wall. he scratches at the uneven surface, screams still ripping from his throat and feels wet heat on his fingers as his nails scrape and break. his voice cracks, almost shrieking when ghost’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist and pull him back into his chest

“let me out!” johnny screams, fighting his arms, trying to run but run where it’s too dark- “please, let me out, let me out, please!”

ghost’s body curls over his, effortlessly holding him in place as he wrenches in his grip and wails and /screams/. he presses his face into the side of his head and johnny strains to get away, to stop touching him, to run-

and falters when he feels the contours of his face

ghost isn’t smiling anymore

“please,” johnny sobs brokenly, his legs going out from under him. but ghost tightens his grip and doesn’t let him fall. “let me out… please, i wanna get out. please, please…”

he keeps begging, mindless and panicked and almost screams again when ghost tugs him back a step, his fingers digging into his clothes. he doesn’t want to touch the skull again, he doesn’t want ghost to leave him, he doesn’t want to be lost in the dark-

ghost’s giant hands grip under his thighs, pulling him up and he slings his legs around his waist, burying his face in his throat as he sobs

his weight tilts and johnny flinches as his back suddenly touches dirt, arching up into ghost’s body to get away from it- he doesn’t want to be underground anymore, he doesn’t want to be buried anymore-

ghost wraps an arm under his back, holding him tight to his body, and johnny shrinks even more at the scrape of dirt and brick against the outside of their shoulders as he crawls them through some kind of hole

his weight shifts again, falling into the cradle of ghost’s hips, and he sobs at the feeling of going up

the arm crawling them forward presses against his armpit and johnny cringes at the screech of metal on concrete as ghost shoves something out of the way, involuntarily peeking out behind him

and gasps in pure relief at the moonlight streaming through the basement window; the dim yet powerful light making his eyes ache after so long in such total darkness

he can’t bear to look away from it, even as his eyes twitch and squint, still clinging to ghost as he crawls them across the basement to the stairs. he gets to his feet, not even stumbling with johnny’s added weight, and he strains to keep looking out the window as he climbs up. only when they reach the top step does he wrench his eyes away, desperately searching for the nearest window

and ghost seems to know it; angling him to look out the dining room into the backyard as he carries him to the couch he fell asleep on

johnny keeps his fingers tangled in his hood as he sets him down, holding him close. he doesn’t even try to pull back and he feels him drop to kneel between his legs, compressing himself down the way a man of his size shouldn’t be able to

his breath stutters on an inhale and johnny forces himself to drag his eyes away from the light, to take his first real look at the source of all his terror; the ghost in his walls…

and he’s just a man

his hair has been hacked at, patches ripped out and uneven, too fine to dread but matted together all the same. thinner patches struggle to grow through shiny scar tissue; some blunt and wide, others looking like burns. but beneath the caked in dirt and years of grease… it might be blonde

his hoodie and jeans sit tight and loose in turn like they were bought for the build of a very different man, hiding dirty skin so pale he didn’t even know it was possible, almost /translucent/; veins bright and bulging beneath his skin like he’s never seen sunlight

and with the size and complexity of the cavern under the basement… maybe he hasn’t

but it’s his face johnny gets caught on

his light lashes do nothing to hide the fine scars dug around his eyes, like he scratched at them with his fingernails and after only his short time in the dark, he can guess why he did it. his pupils look permanently dilated, forcing away the deep brown of his irises; unblinking, desperate to take in as much light as possible. more scars cut through his skin, so old and light they almost blend in, difficult to see through the dirt staining his skin

but none of it, the scars, the filth, the uncanny wrongness…

none of it hides how beautiful he is

ghost slowly reaches up and johnny freezes as he brings his thumb to his cheek, wiping through the sticky tear tracks on his skin. it makes his sleeve fall back and his heart seizes at the thick, ragged band of scarring ringing his wrist

he swallows heavily as ghost brings it back to his mouth, sucking his tears from his skin. it splits the cleft in his upper lip wider, splaying over his thumb. ghost doesn’t look away and johnny’s heart beats loud in his ears as he reaches for his hand, tangling his fingers through his own, and lifts it to his mouth

his hand shakes as he gently runs his thumb over his bottom lip, catching on his chapped skin and the smaller scars splitting it, but ghost stops his hand; moving his thumb up to his top lip

the cleft matches up to a thick scar running up his cheek, just skirting his nose and almost meeting his eye and johnny’s violently reminded of the body’s worth of blood stained into the floor of the sitting room

“the sk-…” he falters, a shudder creeping up his spine as he remembers the feel of it in his hands. “the person downstairs; did they do this to you?”

ghost cocks his head and johnny’s thumb slips into his mouth, caressing his inner lip

“did… did they put you down there? in the dark?” he tries again

he sucks at his thumb, a gentle self-soothing pressure

“the couple who used to live here…” johnny breathes, slow with realisation. the couple who lived here for thirty years. the couple the realtor refused to tell him anything about…

“they were your parents.”

but she never said anything about a child

“your parents put you down there,” he repeats and feels sick with grief for a boy he’ll never know. “was… was it your mother?”

ghost rears up on his knees, crawling above him and caging him in against the couch and johnny gasps as he lets out an animalistic snarl in his face, spittle flying onto his cheek

“sorry, i’m sorry, it wasn’t her- it wasn’t her, i know she didn’t do it,” johnny rushes out, flattening himself against the couch and tries to pull his hand away when he presses into it even harder, his thumb pressed to his eye tooth

ghost pants, teeth still bared in a deranged snarl. his mouth twitches, lips slowly falling to cover his teeth. his tongue runs over his lips, gathering the spit from them and tickling the edges of his thumb

“y-your father…?” he tries and his breath catches as he nods

johnny slowly copies him, still pressed back into the couch

ghost’s eyes flicker up at him like he’s checking his reaction and keeps lapping at his thumb, long almost apologetic passes of his tongue as he works down to his palm. he leans in and johnny’s breath stutters as he laves his tongue up his cheek, cleaning up the spit. ghost lets out a low groan, nibbling along his cheekbone and goosebumps prickle his skin

he sinks back down, mouthing a trail down his throat and he shivers as he bites at his collar, tugging it away with his teeth to expose his collarbone

“ghost…” johnny sighs and he pauses

ghost noses at his sternum and sits back on his heels, nuzzling his forehead into his belly as he pulls something from the front pocket of his hoodie

something heavy tumbles out with it but he ignores it in favour of the bundle of cloth ghost pushes into his hands, wrapping his arms around his hips and sinking his chin into his thigh. johnny’s heart sinks as he gently unfolds it, careful of the unthreading edges and torn holes and has to bite his lip hard

it’s a ragged patchwork blanket; hardly big enough to cover a child. and hand embroidered onto it, in faded and dirtied gold thread is a single word

“simon,” he reads, tracing the once-loved letters

simon perks up in his lap, making a gurgling almost purr in the back of his throat; the closest thing to speech he’s heard from him in the month he’s lived here

“your name is simon,” johnny breathes

he thought he considered everything about how he ended up a prisoner in his own house; a serial killer toying with his food, a stalker he never noticed, a random psychopath chomping at the bit for his next victim and johnny was just unlucky enough to draw his attention

but if this is the only thing simon has left, his only proof of before… he’s been down there, left alone in the rotting dark, for decades

since he was a child

“i’m so sorry, simon,” johnny whispers thickly

but simon just frowns

like he’s never heard an apology in his life

johnny presses his eyes shut for a moment, just for a moment; to let himself feel the pain and the fear and the grief, then refolds the blanket just as tenderly as he opened it. he presses it into simon’s chest and his heart catches at the way he hugs it tight, dropping his chin to nuzzle into the fabric

he flinches as he takes his hand in his, jerking back, but johnny keeps hold of him; gently tangling their fingers together and rises to his feet

“come on,” he beckons, walking backwards towards the stairs

simon’s grip tightens around his blanket. but he follows him, up the stairs johnny sprinted down the morning after he first saw him, across the landing with the vents he counted and dreaded walking past, into his bedroom

where it all began

johnny pushes the door wider and riley pops his head up from his dog bed, tensing and about to jump up when he sees simon behind him

“back to sleep, riley-boy,” he soothes and riley droops and burrows straight back under his blanket, nosing it up over his face until only his ears stick out

he smiles and turns back to simon- but it drops when he sees how he’s frozen in the doorway; quick, wide eyes darting around the room. around the master bedroom, clutching his blanket to his chest like he’s afraid of it being stolen

“it’s okay, simon,” johnny promises, rounding him and takes his other hand in his. “he’s not here anymore; you can come in.”

he slowly steps backwards and with the gentlest tug on his hands, simon follows

but lets out an almost involuntary sounding hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting away from the automatic lantern set up on his bedside table

johnny looks between them, at the warm light that’s been his beacon for the last few weeks, and the man he needed that safety from

he holds his breath

and flicks off the lantern

chills immediately creep up his spine; the encroaching shadows smothering him like waves and it’s only simon’s hand in his, the gleam of moonlight catching his eyes, that keeps him above water

johnny squeezes his hand and brings him to the bed, silently coaxing him under the covers. he’s stiff, holding himself so rigid it almost looks painful, and he leaves the covers around his waist, not wanting to make him feel restricted when he’s already so visually unsure

“just like you did for me,” he murmurs, remembering the scrap cloth of a blanket he woke under

simon’s most prized possession

his only possession

simon cocks his head, that same primitive yet studious look in his eyes as he watches him climb in next to him and tug the covers up to his shoulder. he looks at it then the side over his waist, and pulls it up until it covers him up to the neck

johnny can’t help the smile tugging at his lips and sinks deeper into the bed, the blanket riding up higher

until they match

“we’re safe here, simon,” he promises

simon’s wide brown eyes stare back at him and it’s all to easy to lose himself in them

💀🧼

when johnny wakes up, simon is gone; only a dirt-stained imprint of him left on the sheet and pillowcase

and his phone sitting innocently on the side table, beside the lit lantern

[wendichester]

Can I please request a bf!Sam x reader where

At first, Dean and Sam are very worried, bc reader is gone since the morning and by now it's late afternoon and she hasn't returned yet

And when they go looking for her, they notice, hey, the GPS on the phone is on

And Sam goes to get reader, and finds her at a grave in the graveyard thats practically abandoned

And he finds out its the death anniversary of a close family member of hers, and she's been there all day to "talk" and take care of the grave

And he just comforts her on the shitty day, taking care of reader?

I have a death anniversary coming up in a few days of someone from my family I was close with, and it'd mean a lot if you could write this as a bit of comfort <3

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ where you are,

summary. sam finds you where you always go on this day—grief lingering, him standing by your side.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 424

warnings. dealing with grief and being alone ; angsty

notes. apologies if this one is coming a little too late. i honestly didn't notice it between the other requests. hope this brings you a little bit of comfort (despite late) and know my dms are open if you need 🤍

Sam’s heart is pounding as he follows the GPS, boots crunching against dry leaves as he moves through the graveyard. The place is nearly abandoned, the air thick with late afternoon stillness, and he finally spots you, sitting cross-legged in front of a weathered headstone.

His breath leaves him in a rush.

You’re okay. You’re here.

He slows as he approaches, not wanting to startle you. He sees the small bouquet of flowers beside the grave, the way your fingers absently trace the carved name. He watches the rise and fall of your shoulders, the weight you’re carrying alone.

"You weren’t answering your phone," he says softly, finally breaking the silence.

You flinch, head snapping up, but when you see him, some of the tension in your body eases. “Oh.” Your voice is small, almost sheepish. “I—I didn’t think to check it.”

Sam exhales, closing the distance, crouching beside you. "Dean and I were worried. You were gone all day." His voice is gentle, no anger, just concern.

You nod, looking back at the grave. “I just… I had to come. It’s their death anniversary.”

Understanding washes over him in an instant. He doesn’t ask why you didn’t tell him, doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, his warm hand covering yours where it rests against the cold stone.

"I should’ve told you," you admit quietly. "I just—I didn’t want to make a big deal about it."

Sam frowns. “You being here all day, alone? That’s a big deal." His thumb strokes over your knuckles. "You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Your throat tightens. "I just… I wanted to talk to them. Take care of the grave, make sure it’s not forgotten." You sniff, looking down. “It feels like if I stop coming, no one else will.”

Sam swallows hard. He understands that feeling too well. He shifts, settling beside you, one arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.

“They’re not forgotten,” he murmurs against your hair. “Not as long as you remember them.”

You let out a shaky breath, curling into his warmth, letting the exhaustion of the day press into him. He holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

"Don't be." He presses a soft kiss to your temple. "Just… next time, let me be here with you, okay?”

You nod against him. “Okay.”

For a while, you just sit there, wrapped in his arms, letting the world go quiet.

And for the first time today, you don’t feel so alone.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Prologue || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Warnings: Body horror, experimentation, reader is in a lot of pain, violence, angst.

a/n: This is the rescue! A preview to the first chapter which should be out sometime next week <3 Short but I hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist

Hurts. Hurts so bad. 

Everything hurts. You can’t feel your hands, your legs. You can’t move. Strapped down with cold leather straps. You try to move but you can’t. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop. It’s loud. So loud. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind screams a million things at once. 

Where am I? Get out Get out Get out. I can't move. Help someone help. Who am I? GET OUT!

It takes everything inside of you to open your eyes. Every ounce of willpower is dedicated to what was once a simple task. A bright white light shines in your eyes. You wince as your eyes squint. Your vision is blurry as you try to look around.

As the room comes into focus, so does your hearing. The ringing in your ears quiets as the sounds of destruction and screams fill the void. An alarm is blaring loudly throughout wherever you are. You see steel tables, medical equipment, scans. Fuck where were you.

Why can't you remember anything? Your brain goes fuzzy as you try and recall anything from a few minutes ago. The last memory is pain. So much pain. You start to hear the screaming get closer. 

“Help…” Your voice is raspy as you try to call for anyone. Your throat burns as you speak. Footsteps get closer and closer.

“Please, Help me.” You cry a little louder.

Pain shoots through your body as you try to move your arms. You want to cry, but no tears come. You don’t understand. Suddenly you hear a loud bang. The steel doors bend under the pressure as the banging continues. You cry out in relief as the doors burst open. You see a strange man enter the room.

“Over here!” He calls, his voice sounds so far away. 

Snikt

In your hazy vision you see blades come out of the mans hand. Suddenly the leather straps were gone, cut away. Fear shoots through your heart at the sight of his claws.

No no no, he's going to hurt you. The people with knives, they hurt you.

"Please no don't." You whimper as he comes closer.

“Hey there kid I'm not gonna hurt you okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” He says.

You groan as he picks you up. You move your left hand, cupping his face. Trying to see who this was, what was going on. And then you move your right hand. Only something feels very wrong. The pain still echoes through your body but only on one side.

“Wait.” You mumble. Pushing yourself out of the man's grip.

He grunts as you push hard with your right hand, sending him stumbling back much to his surprise. You fall from his grasp. A loud clang echoes when you hit the ground. You hear more footsteps, more people, more talking.

“Oh my god.” You hear a voice say in a terrified whisper.

“Kid, you need help.” The man from before says, bending down to whisper in your ear.

You ignore him. Crawling towards a steel pan on the ground. Shakily you lift your right hand. To your horror there is no longer the familiar sight of a human hand.

It’s solid white. Plates of metal make up what was once your skin. Wires connect like veins. You close your fist and open it again. Your eyes trail up your arm. The whole thing is just like your hand. Shiny white metal instead of what was once your soft skin.

You grab the steel pan and hold it up to your face. The image is distorted but you can see yourself clear as day. Half your face is turned into something so, unhuman. Robotic and unnatural.

You lift your other hand, your human hand to your face. You flinch as you touch the cold metal of your cheek. A tear slips down one of your cheeks while your other eye just stares back, cold and empty. You drop the pan in horror. Your mind goes numb as you feel a hand on your shoulder. Someone speaks but you can’t hear them.

They wrap a blanket around you, and lead you outside. They speak to you slowly and carefully, like you’re a wounded animal. They stare at you like you’re a freak. A failed experiment that has stripped you of everything. You are a freak, you are an abomination of bones and metal.

You don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge a single thing as you stare at the floor. Slowly you lift your head, the man who cut you free sits across from you. Staring at you with hostile eyes. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the warped metal above him.

The blanket falls open, you get a look at your whole body. Half human, half machine. Expect your chest, where your ribs, your heart should be. Is a big gaping hole. Just tubes and wires and metal. 

What have they done to you? 

[spicybunni]

YANDERE MILLIONAIRE X FEM DARLING

This is based off a wacky dream I had about being kidnapped by a handsome millionaire. What does that say about my mental health? Absolutely nothing.

WARNINGS⚠️ : SFW / DUBCON TOUCHING / KIDNAPPING

🥀Your limbs were sore, aching to be released in their bent positions. The last thing you remember was going to bed on a normal night, nothing unusual about your day at work. Now you're awake feeling groggy, were you drugged? How long had you been asleep? so many thoughts and questions were running through your mind.

🥀'Help! Someone! Please help me!' Your cries echoed in the room. Everything seemed so empty and hallow all around you. You must be in some abandoned building.

🥀Breathing was becoming harder and harder as you cried out. Your arms were behind you, cuffed together and chained to a wall.

🥀Your thoughts pause as you hear footsteps coming, climbing up nearby stairs. Breathe quickening, you shove yourself against the wall to at least ground yourself. The door to the room opens suddenly. You hear two- no...4 people come through. They're all men, speaking in a foreign language you can't understand or name. You start to hyperventilate as the terror finally hits you. You don't have any shoes or socks on. Just the pajamas you went to bed with. You're so exposed.

🥀The steps come to a halt surrounding you. Your breath is coming out shaky now.

"P-Please....Let me go..."

🥀A male voice finally speaks out, sounding as if giving an order. You hear them approach you and feel hands on your arms, holding you in place as another one unlocks the chain from your cuffs.

The chain drops to the ground, making you jump from the loud rattle it made.

🥀You're brought into a van, the seats are leather and cold against your exposed skin. The men don't hurt you, in fact they seem hesitant to even grab you. In these scenarios you would expect them to be rough. they don't answer nay of your question or pleas inside. So you just wait.

🥀It felt like hours before the vehicle halts. You hear the men get out first before the doors roll open for you. They rip the blindfold off you so you can guide yourself. You realize its actually daytime when your eyes adjust to the sudden light. And as you guessed earlier you were still in your pajamas. Your comfy pants and loose shirt thank goodness. Sometimes you slept in just your underwear.

🥀You take in the scenery around you. From the round about fountain the van was parked in front of, to the expanding nature surrounding the mansion. They have brought you to an estate.

🥀The mansion you have arrived at is breathtaking. From the rose bushes and flower gardens, the roman statues posed in-between, and the wood carved doors that opened.

🥀A few maids come out surrounding a man you recognized. He was your boss's boss. You were just a cleaning lady at his company's building. He was a bit older than you, but by all means was handsome and powerful. You had a chance to meet him briefly a few times while walking through the building early in the mornings or at night. But what was he doing here?

🥀"There she is! How are you feeling sweetie?" He seems joyful to see you as he approaches. The weight of being kidnapped was sore in your throat from your cries and pleas. The effects of whatever you had been drugged with was slowly wearing off, but you were nowhere near sober. You were so exhausted, but not broken enough to just lean in. You take a step back making you bump into the guards behind you.

“W-What am I doing here? What do you want from me!” You hold your arms in front of your stomach.

🥀He has a crisp black suit on, dressing just as sharp when you would see him at the company building. His expression goes from excited to sympathetic at your response to him.

“You look real tired sweetheart... Why don’t you come inside and we’ll get you more comfortable.” He stretches his hand out to you. You weren’t going to take it until one of the guards taps your back with the barrel of his gun. Making you jump forward to his hand.

🥀He grins down at your frightened self as you shakily put your hand in his. His much larger hand envelops yours and he guides you into the estate with his other on your lower back.

"Please I don't know why you're doing this I-"

"My dear, I know this is a lot to take in. But have patience. Once you're all fixed up we can talk. Ahem - Ladies, would you kindly take her upstairs and make her comfortable?"

🥀He ushers you with the maids to have them clean you up and dress you. Your body was finally regaining its strength, expelling the drug from your system throwing up into the toilet. You felt so weak but knew you must save every bit of strength to get out of here. The maids gently held your hair up as you expelled yourself.

🥀You felt as though you were getting a spa treatment. They stripped you down to your naked body and guide you towards a steaming bath mixed with salts and flower petals. They attempted to wash you but you grabbed the sponge warning them off the idea and taking care of that part yourself. Whatever was in that bath did relax you a little. Your skin was absolutely glowing.

🥀They dress you in a weird vintage gown. It reaches below your knees and you have to wear a petticoat so the dress falls nicely. This was a major difference to the jeans and work clothes you would wear at your job and daily life. It was one of those traditional 50’s housewife dresses.

🥀Mr.Millionaire had his eye on you for so long since your first encounter with him. He thought that a woman of your caliber should be enjoying the finer things in life than scrubbing toilets. He found your kindness and humble nature endearing. His obsession went a bit further when he could make small talk with you in the morning. Of course he would be at his own building all hours of the day, so running into you a few times was inevitable. He would ask how your day was going and then slowly delve into personal questions. Many along the lines of “do you have a boyfriend?” “What are you doing tonight?” “Have you seen this movie?”

🥀You didn’t see why he would ask such questions to a maid. At the time you just thought maybe he was just trying to be nice to common folks such as yourself. You didn't see it as anything romantic because...well, you felt that he could have any he desired so why would he want you?

🥀Honestly, you should have seen the all the red flags at that point. Especially with what he had said after you answered his question of being happy with life. He saw how tirelessly you worked and rushed to exit to your next shift.

“Sounds like you are in need of a vacation from life my dear...”

You uncomfortably laugh at his joke.

“Right, right but bills don’t pay themselves sir…”

He held your gaze and nodded.

"No, they certainly don't."

🥀And you excused yourself after dusting and vacuuming his office. Not really wanting to continue the conversation further. But little did you realize you had sealed the deal. To him, you would be happier if you didn’t work or have to pay rent. At his age he should be married already anyway. He could use a cute wife like you to keep him company.

🥀Back to the present, the maids guided you to the living room of the mansion. You walk in and notice him by the fireplace sipping on a glass of whiskey.

🥀His eyes light up as he spots you coming in in your new attire. Letting out a low wolf whistle.

“Well how about that, the star got even brighter. You look great sweetheart.” He takes a final sip before setting his glass down.

“Come sit with me, won’t you?”

🥀He sees you glance to the doors where the maids hurried behind. Leaving the two of you alone finally.

“Ah-ah, I wouldn’t try that if I were you. You can run anywhere you’d like sweetie but I can assure you, it will not pleasant if you are found. Now, please …won’t you join me?”

🥀You glance back to him, shaking that he is already threatening you if you were to escape. Slowly stepping over to the leather sofa with him. The clicking sound of your mary jane heels halts as you seat yourself stiffly on the cushions.

🥀You cut right to the chase of why you are here again. He sighs, hoping you would have just figured that out by now. He gently takes your hand in both his large ones, his golden rings sliding against your palm.

"Sweetie, you are the one who gave me this idea. I mean - you looked so miserable cleaning and working day and night to make ends meet. I just wanted to make you happy and see you smile. And in return, you become all mine..."

"B-But you never even asked me! This is crazy!"

He tilts his head slightly with a condescending smile. He pulls your hand towards him, bringing you closer. You yelp at his actions, flinching when he leans into your ear.

"I don't ask for things that I want, sweetheart."

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 7

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

I'm also posting this story on AO3 which you can find here.

This is one of the first scenes I imagined when drafting this fic, so I've been very excited to share it with you guys.

Also sidenote: Y'all thought I was gonna leave out my other hyper-fixation? Have fun reading about these poor saps bonding over the Odyssey :)

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Chapter 7

The scrape of steel on steel jolted you awake. Immediately followed by a dull, throbbing at the base of your neck that sent a shock down your spine. You fell back with a small grunt as you closed your eyes once more. Starbursts painted the back of your eyelids. A train passed outside, rattling the framed pictures on the walls. It was a familiar sound that lulled you to sleep every night.

You would have remembered coming home. Right?

Carefully, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and tried again. The light on your nightstand was offensively bright. A searing prong shoved through both eyes would have been less painful than whatever this was.

“Too bright?” A voice modulator crackled. “Sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

Jesus Christ. This couldn’t be happening.

You opened your eyes despite the pain. It took a second to adjust to the darkness, but when you did, you saw him. Red Hood crouched by your head; his shoulders curled to appear less imposing which only worked insofar that he didn’t look like he wanted to kill you. It was still unnerving, having him this close. The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to his collar. You wrinkled your nose, overwhelmed.

He shifted back onto his knees, the gesture oddly shy. “Uh, hey.”

“Why are you in my apartment?”

“There was a hostage situation at Wayne Manor. You took a hit to the back of the head. I decided to bring you back here.”

His words took a second to fully sink in, but when they did, you ghosted your fingers along the soft patch of skin at the nape of your neck. It was tender to the touch—bruised for sure—but as far as injuries went, it could have been far worse.

Several memories resurfaced and slotted together like pieces in a puzzle. Mark flirting with you over a crate of booze, a knuckle tattoo, the crack of a gun, and fucking Brendan.

“I’m an idiot.”

Hood lifted his hand as if he might touch you, but he hesitated just before he made contact. You both stared at his outstretched hand, a heavy silence between you. His fingers curled as he let his hand fall. He cleared his throat. “None of this was your fault.”

“No, part of it was definitely my fault,” you admitted, “I wouldn’t have taken a blow to the head if I hadn’t drawn the shooters attention away from the target. I tried to play hero, and it backfired.”

“You did that on purpose.” His modulator pitched.

You doubled over, gripping your head in your hands. “Ugh.”

“Sorry.” He softened his voice for your sake. It only helped insofar that he wasn’t causing active distress anymore. “Why would you do that on purpose?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think. I just acted.” You groaned and fell back against your pillow. “Funny thing is, I should have been in class, but my boss called me in to train the new recruits.”

Recruits who ended up being members of a notorious gang. What had your life become?

“I should have told him to pound sand.”

“You skipped cl—” He stopped himself before he caused another pitch in his modulator. Instead, he fumed quietly, each breath sharper than the last as he curled and uncurled fists.

While this wasn’t your first lecture from him, his reaction surprised you. Hood didn’t strike you as the scholarly type—not that you claimed to know anything about him. For all you know, he could have a PhD in political science or medicine. Most of the supervillains in Gotham were well-known academics. The same could apply to morally gray vigilantes.

Finally, he said, “Why would you skip class? Couldn’t someone else take your shift instead?”

“Our veteran server quit, so it had to be me,” you countered sharply, “I’m also not in a position when I can turn down an extra shift.” With a quick wave, you motioned to your shitty studio. It wasn’t much, but you tried. He glanced around as if he were seeing it for the first time. You supposed there were more pressing things to focus on than your tastes in thrifted décor.

“Why would you bring me home? I should have stayed at the manor until the paramedics arrived?”

He fiddled with his gloved fingers. You clocked the bad habit soon after meeting him. Watching someone as comically large as Red Hood get nervous was oddly endearing, not that you were ever going to tell him that. He’d either die of embarrassment or shoot you for pointing it out.

“Your, uh, coworker mentioned you didn’t have family in the area, so I assumed you didn’t want to pay for an ambulance ride and an overnight stay at the hospital. And you’d probably hate it even more if Bruce Wayne paid for it given you…” He made a vague, flourishing gesture with his hands. “Well, considering the conversations we’ve had.”

He caught on faster than you expected. You never imagined the person who understood you was also the one who spent his nights dual-wielding guns whilst parading around Gotham. A bitter laugh crept into your throat, but you smothered the urge, knowing the effort would make your headache worse.

“Alright, you were right to make that assumption.”

“I bet you’re regretting skipping class, huh?”

You shot him with a narrow look that told him to drop it. “No need to rub it in. I didn’t want to skip.”

From the tension curling in his shoulders, you sensed he had more to say on the matter. The air fizzled and sparked between you as you waited for him to speak, but he resisted the urge. Good. You weren’t in the mood for another lecture, and he seemed to sense that.

“Besides, I think I’m already paying the price. This was a one-time thing and now, I’ll have to miss a few more days while I recover. I don’t want to fall behind on my readings and coursework, but here we are.”

Your temples throbbed, despite the reprieve of darkness. Focusing too long on any one thing made the room spin. It was nauseating. As much as you wanted to escape in a book, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“What are you reading?” he asked after a moment.

You motioned toward the stack on your kitchen table. Most of the books had been thrifted from the shop down the street. Your scholarship didn’t cover reading materials, and you balked at the prices at the school store.

“The Red Tent for my women’s history class and The Odyssey for my English class.”

“Which translation of The Odyssey?”

“Robert Fitzgerald.”

He made a small noise of disgust, amplified by the modulator. “He translated it well, I guess, but I prefer Emily Wilson’s take on the epic. It’s creative, but there’s a certain musicality to her prose that I admire.”

You… didn’t know how to respond to that.

Red Hood was the last person you expected to have an opinion on classical literature. Sure, it kind of made sense the longer you talked with him, but the vibes of tortured poet and rugged vigilante didn’t quite mesh in your mind. In fact, you were fairly certain this was all a concussion-induced dream. It just happened to include Red Hood.

And if this was a dream, like you assumed it was, there was no harm in playing along.

“You’ve read multiple translations of the Odyssey?”

“Duh. At least three in English, another in Spanish, and one in German. Hasn’t everyone?” He shoved off your bed and walked toward your kitchen table. “Comparison is a crucial element when it comes to translated works. People interpret language differently and it’s fun to read those different interpretations.”

He grabbed the book from your pile and flipped through it gingerly, almost reverent in the way he handled it. “Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all way of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold of the proud height of—”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your readings. Take it from me, reading with a concussion fucking sucks.”

“Oh.”

Oh—that was the best response you could come up with?

You stared at your hands so he wouldn’t see your blush. An offer like that was, well, it toed a line. Which line? You couldn’t exactly say, but there had to be one given the Red Hood had offered to read to you so casually. The man was a walking contradiction of himself with the broad frame that barely concealed the raw awkwardness that lay beneath. It felt familiar, but your mind was too foggy to draw a connection.

This had to be a dream. You refused to believe anything else. There wasn’t a reality where Red Hood, or anyone for that matter, offered to read The Odyssey outside your dreams.

Fuck it.

Might as well test the bounds of your dreams.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s kind of hard to listen with your…” You motioned toward his helmet. “The modulator is a little hard on the ears.”

He gave you a long look. It was moments like this you wished you could see the expression beneath. Maybe this was the line. Asking him to remove his helmet wasn’t just a risk to him, but to you as well. Anonymity to a certain degree protected you. You understood that, and yet you asked anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you started, “Forget I asked.”

A lot of things could have happened next. You shuffled through all of them in the span of a few seconds, none of which were all that pleasant. Him ducking behind the couch and laying flat on the floor was not one of the scenarios you pictured.

You sat a little straighter, only able to see his heavy combat boots sticking out from one end. “Uh… Hood?”

Several seconds passed before he said, “Is this better?”

There was no modulator this time. His words weren’t even muffled. His natural voice settled low in his chest, punching on the vowels and softened the consonants. A pleasant zing rippled through your blood.

The man had a prominent Jersey accent. While not uncommon for the area, confirming it thrilled you more than you expected. Another piece to the puzzle that was Red Hood.

The realization hit you harder than the gun had. You muffled a gasp in your palm. He removed his helmet... for you. You had no intention of seeing the man hidden beneath the mask. Knowing that he trusted you at all made you a little light-headed.

“Much better.”

“Right. Okay.” He paused. “Can I—not that I don’t, but can I trust you not to—”

“I promise not to look,” you assured him.

What went unsaid hung thick in the air and threatened to smother you. You settled on your side, pointedly ignoring the fact that Red Hood was laying on your apartment floor. As far as dreams went, this one was bizarre, but the thought of waking up and being forced to face reality hit harder than you expected.

Selfishly, you didn’t want it to end, and that frightened you.

“Now, where were we.” You heard the shuffle pages before he said, “Here we go. He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men, and weathered...”

You closed your eyes to focus on the mental pictures he painted with words alone. His lilting voice read with the confidence of someone who’d read these passages a hundred times over. And maybe he had. It was easy to get lost in the story—in n the inviting warmth of his honeyed words. It wasn’t long before you succumbed to them like a siren’s song.

It was unclear when exactly you drifted off, but when you startled awake a few hours later, your apartment existed in the stillness of dawn. Thin strips of sunlight filtered through your blinds. You blinked blearily, a headache pressing down on your temples as you sat up.

As you peered around your apartment, deciding where the dream ended and reality began, you settled on the book left on your nightstand. The Odyssey. You grabbed it, flipping open to the spot that someone had marked with a crumpled Bat Burger receipt. It certainly wasn’t yours.

You flipped it over to find a hastily scrawled note on the back in red ink. Take it easy. Rest. Drink water. Pain meds as needed—just don’t overdo it. I left off on page 29, line 317. –RH

RH.

Red Hood.

Not a dream then...

All of it was real. He brought you home and watched over you until you woke up. He read books and had opinions on classic literature. He took off his helmet for you. Your flush bled down your neck and settled in your chest. That meant his damn accent was real too.

Fucked. That’s what you were.

Burying your face in your book, you flopped back on the bed. The knot at the nape of your neck twinged, but it failed to put you out of your misery.

If Hood knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. If you knew what was good for you, you’d do the same. So, you did what you always do with problems you didn’t want to deal with. It went in a box, and you tucked away in the far recesses of your mind to deal with on another day.