#otherwise i would spiral and panic so

[aboutyoutoo]

Tagged by @fitzrove for this, thank you !! <333

Last song I listened to: The Prophecy by Taylor Swift lol, ik it's been weeks but I'm still being weird and obsessive about TTPD 😔

Last book I read: god,,, it's been actual months omg. the last book I read and finished was The Confessions of Frannie Langton by Sara Collins (amazing book btw absolutely recommend !!)

Last film I watched: umm I guess The Crown Prince 2006? is that a film or technically a tv show? uhh if it doesn't count then the actual last film i watched was,,, [deep sigh] Private Vices, Public Virtues,,,, don't look it up (seriously) ((sorry fitz))

Last TV series: I'm currently midway through Under The Banner of Heaven,,, very good actually. It has Andrew Garfield.

Last thing I googled: something biology related lol (I won't say because i'm not supposed to talk about my exam questions while the exam is live but it was some dna analysis thing)

Last thing I ate: cheese toastie

Sweet, savoury or spicy: sweet most of the time, occasionally get serious savoury cravings lol,,, my mouth is very sensitive to spice xD

Amount of sleep: uhh i think somewhere between 7 and 8 hours last night? i slept longer than i wanted to lol, maybe a good thing since i've slept shockingly little this week x)

Currently reading: i've been trying to read like several books over the last few months,,, i started lolita back in jan/feb and it's still on my bedside table, i'm trying to start the terror, i'm loosely keeping up with dracula daily and i've also been trying to read wuthering heights in a two person bookclub for like over a year now akdjhs,,,

Tagging: anyone who wants to do it !! ((sjdh i get afraid to tag mutuals in things but if u are my mutual just assume you're tagged))

[alice-everafter]

"Stop moving around, herbivore."

The otherwise heavy silence is broken by Leona's deep timber of a voice. Rolling onto your back puts you in line of sight of his bed, where you can see the Savanna prince half covered in sheets you couldn't even afford to breathe on. He's facing away from you, barely moving. If he hadn't just spoken you'd assume he was dead or something.

"I could hear your squirming from half way across campus. Settle down or get out, you're disturbing my sleep."

"...Sorry." Your throat twinges with the faint reminder of how you got to sleep in the dorm room of Leona Kingscholar in the first place.

After being so rudely ejected from your beloved Ramshackle home on such short notice, possible sleeping arrangements were few and far between. Now, you could've taken Ace and Deuce up on their offer, but Jack was... he was Jack. And only Jack could convince you to stay in Savanaclaw. But, then Leona had to come and say no, and then you panicked cause you saw yourself and Grim on the street. And that panic plus the sleep deprivation from finals lead you to perform your own rendition of "Cotton Eye Joe" outside his bedroom out of sheer desperation.

You didn't even get to the second verse before he bodily dragged you inside with a growl that had you accepting death like an unspoken principle.

The room was once again blanketed in a thick silence. Grim, who slept by your feet, didn't even make a peep. Banging those pots around while providing you backing vocals must've taken it out of him. Poor guy. Out of anyone in this room, he's the one you'd feel the most bad for disturbing.

So, with a sigh, you accept your fate and get up from your collection of floor blankets. Your destination being one of the Savanaclaw couches.

You knew your mind, you wouldn't be sleeping for a while. There was just... too much. Azul and his contracts, Jade and Floyd and their sharp teeth, Leona and his eyes. The ones that once looked at you like you were vermin to crush through the haze of a raging sandstorm. While Ruggie batted and kicked and cried for breath. And you swore his eyes had glazed over as he fell limp and━

"Hey."

You stop, both bodily and mentally, as his voice once again breaks the silence. There's a cold sweat you didn't notice gathering on your back. You turn to find him staring at you with those same green eyes. You can't tell if he's searching for something in you or debating heavily with himself. But, whatever it is, it isn't for long before he seems to come to a conclusion with a rumbling sigh.

"Come here."

What. "What."

"You heard me, come here."

To say you were conflicted would be the understatement of the century. You had just been spiraling not even 30 seconds ago and now the object of your trauma was beckoning you closer like the parent to your distressed child.

"I don't have all day, herbivore. You coming or not?"

"...It's night."

"..."

"..."

"Just get over here before I change my mind."

"Right."

He heaves another grumbling sigh as you shuffle across the room. Stood next to his bed gives you a view reminiscent of that time in the greenhouse. Him, splayed across his bed, hair cascading over his pillows. While you're stock still and more than a bit puzzled and kind of scared. Even though you're looking down on him, you don't feel like you have the advantage that you should. He looks almost too calm, too relaxed. Like he's assured of a victory yet to come.

That thought sends a chill up your spine, reminding you of the sweat that persists on your back.

"Well?" He raises a brow expectantly.

You blink, "well, what?"

"Are you laying down or what?"

"...Am I laying down or what?"

"Need me to spell it out for you? Or should I help you into bed?"

"Not necessary."

You don't know what possesses you━whether it's self preservation or annoyance or curiosity or just straight madness━but you get in. You pull back those luxurious sheets and slide beneath them where you're immediately accosted by warmth. Heat seems to be radiating from him like a fire.

The revelation is... not an unpleasant one.

You realize he's still staring at you. But, not intently, not like he's trying to pry a secret from you. Leona never looks at anyone like he means to take their person apart. He simply observes and acknowledges, anyone and anything.

"Think you can finally go to bed and stop flopping around like a dead fish?"

"...Haven't I dealt with enough fish today? And now you bring them up in Savanaclaw of all places. Is no where safe?"

You're surprised when his brows pinch in amusement and a short but gruff chuckle leaves his lips.

"My bad then, for touching on such a tender topic."

"Yeah, your bad indeed."

No one says anything else afterward and he seems to take that as an invitation to turn onto his back. Letting out a deep breath through his nose while nestling an arm behind his head, eyes sliding shut.

Somewhere between you climbing into his bed and him settling down to sleep, the sweat has cooled off your skin. Not to mention the sudden heaviness dragging at your eyelids. Seems that you would be able to sleep some after all.

You turn away and towards the open balcony, towards the spot where you had once laid and Grim continues to snooze. The moon lights up the room, and though it's not the sun, it still feels just as warm somehow.

Speaking of warm, there's a heater pressed to your back. Scratch that, Leona is pressed to your back. And that's his arm, sliding over your hip and resting draped over your side.

It feels like the world hiccups when you feel his next breath puff against your hair. But, surprisingly enough, you're not shaking in your metaphorical boots. Just... very confused, once again.

"...Is this supposed to be punishment for 'Cotton Eye Joe?'"

He says nothing at first, and you begin to fear for your safety before he eventually does.

"Whatever helps put you to bed faster."

That arm over your side moves before you feel his hand settle atop your collarbone. Those same hands that had once brought ruin and pain were now just a small brush away from your neck.

This should terrify you, but it doesn't. Because he's gentle in this moment. His arm isn't an insistent press, it's a steady weight. His hand isn't a branding clasp, it's a soft touch.

There are words left unsaid between you two that his body seems to carry instead. And you drift off with the feeling of his tail draping over your ankles beneath the sheets.

[aliteralsemicolon]

3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes

When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend. 

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNING: Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk. 

Word count: 8.6K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers. 

11:57 PM

Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it. 

11:58 PM

The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you. 

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored. 

11:59 PM

It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue. 

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”

12:00 AM

Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today. 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful. 

12:31 AM

‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra. 

“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe. 

“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.

“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”

“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”

“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”

“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”

“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”

Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state. 

12:56 AM

You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”

The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror. 

2:07 PM

You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.

“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought. 

“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.

“Um, sure”,  you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little. 

“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.

“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around. 

“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.

“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had. 

“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen. 

“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?” 

“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?” 

Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.” 

“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive. 

“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone. 

He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”

3:42 PM. 

You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything. 

Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could. 

The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him. 

What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.

Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours. 

“Emily!” 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” 

“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.

“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”

Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”

You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.

“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.

Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.

“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.

You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.

Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.

“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.

You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.

4:03 PM

Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”

No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”

“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”

“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue. 

“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”

As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.

“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise. 

“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself. 

The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”

Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”

“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”

“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.

“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?” 

“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”

“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”

“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”

“What was off?”

“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”

You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that. 

“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”

“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”

“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”

“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking”

“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”

“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?” 

You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place. 

“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”

“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”

“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.” 

She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off. 

Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now. 

Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.

“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?” 

“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.” 

“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out. 

“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”

You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?” 

“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay. 

Spencer’s POV

It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.

“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon. 

Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say. 

“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”

Your POV

Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.

“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:

2:17 AM

“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided. 

As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too. 

Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?” 

“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself. 

“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern. 

“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it. 

He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”

Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?” 

You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.” 

“Are you sure?” Emily asks. 

“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.

“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.

“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason. 

“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.

You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again. 

4:31 AM

Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.

“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?” 

“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time. 

“I’m not.” You persist. 

“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.

“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”

“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they��d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.

“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.

4:55 AM

“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you. 

Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.

“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.” 

You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”

“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.” 

“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.” 

“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.

Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her. 

Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush. 

“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay. 

“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back. 

“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.” 

“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back. 

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice. 

“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy. 

“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes. 

“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.

“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”

“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”

“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.” 

“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.

“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around. 

“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”

You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”

“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”

“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.

“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start. 

“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events. 

“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”

“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer. 

“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling. 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.

“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”

“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly. 

“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears. 

“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand. 

“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.

“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If there’s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”

You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing. 

The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to. 

“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times. 

“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.

“Spencer?” You say after a second. 

“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.

“Thank you too.” 

“Always.”

Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other. 

Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.

AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).

Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)

Thank you for reading!

[pastryfication]

Heyy I loved your cochlear implant story! I was hoping you could do something similar where reader has really bad eyesight if she's not got her glasses on? It's a big fear of mine bc I can hardly recognize different faces without my glasses 😊🤞

the thick lenses help you navigate a world that would otherwise be a blur of shapes and colors, and you rely on them more than anything, so you’ve always been very careful with your glasses. that’s why, when you hear the sound of them hitting the floor and that awful crack that follows, your heart sinks.

you stare down at the bathroom floor, but it’s just a hazy blur of light and shadows. the outlines of your broken glasses are barely visible, and the realization that you can’t see them clearly makes your chest tighten with fear. you sink to your knees, fumbling to pick up the pieces, but your hands are shaking so badly that you can’t even grasp them.

“no, no, no…” you whisper, your voice trembling as panic starts to build. you know how dependent you are on your glasses, how lost you feel without them, and now you’re faced with that terrifying reality.

“oscar!” you call out, your voice cracking with desperation. you feel a wave of helplessness crash over you, the room spinning as you struggle to keep your breathing under control.

oscar’s footsteps echo in the hallway, and within seconds, he’s at your side, his expression shifting from concern to alarm when he sees you on the floor, your hands clutching at the broken glasses. “hey, what happened?” he asks, his voice full of worry as he kneels down beside you.

“they broke,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. “i don’t have a spare… i can’t… i can’t see anything, oscar.” the words come out in a rush, your panic spiking as you try to explain just how bad it is, how everything around you is just a terrifying blur. “i don’t know what to do. what if something happens, and i can’t—”

oscar cuts you off with a comforting hand on your shoulder, and immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice fighting hard to stay steady and calm, though you can hear the underlying worry. “i’m here. you’re going to be okay. i’ll help you.”

you clutch onto his shirt, your knuckles white with the force of your grip. you’re trying to breathe, but the fear is overwhelming, making it hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you can’t see, that you’re completely vulnerable. “i’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i just feel so helpless.”

oscar tightens his hold on you, his hand gently stroking your hair in a comforting rhythm. “i know,” he says softly. “but i’m not going to let anything happen to you. we’ll get through this together, okay? we’ll get you new glasses as quickly as possible.”

you nod, but the panic is still there, making your heart race and your thoughts spiral. “but how… how can i do anything without my glasses? i can’t see, i can’t…” your words are choked off by a sob, and you press your face against oscar’s chest, trying to hide how scared you really are. it may be an overreaction, you’re well aware of that, but the thought of being completely dependent on someone else, the thought of not being able to do anything, is making your heart beat faster, feeling like it’s pushing hardly against your rib cage in an attempt to get out.

“hey, it’s alright,” oscar says gently, pulling back just enough to be able to study your expression. “you’re not alone in this. i’m going to guide you through the whole day, and we’re going to take it one step at a time. you don’t have to worry about anything. i’ll be your eyes until we get new glasses, okay?”

you nod again, feeling a small flicker of relief at his words, though the fear still lingers. “okay,” you whisper, leaning into his touch as he cups your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that have started to fall.

“let’s start with breakfast,” oscar suggests, his voice gentle as he helps you up from the floor. “i’ll guide you, and we’ll take it slow.”

your grip on his arm is tight as he leads you out of the bathroom, every step feeling uncertain without being able to see anything.

oscar’s presence is a lifeline, his calm, steady voice reassuring you as he carefully guides you through the apartment. “there’s a step here,” he says softly, pausing to make sure you’re steady before continuing. “and here’s the table—i’ve got you.”

he helps you into a chair, then places a plate in front of you, gently guiding your hand to it. “scrambled eggs,” he says with a smile in his voice. “your favorite.”

you manage a small smile, though your hands are still shaking slightly as you reach for the fork. oscar doesn’t leave your side, watching closely to make sure you’re okay, his presence a constant source of comfort.

the rest of the day is a blur of anxiety and dependence, but oscar is there for every moment, helping you navigate the world that has suddenly become so much more daunting. whether it’s walking you around the apartment or helping you find your way to the couch, he’s right there, his hand steady on yours, his voice a calming presence in the midst of your panic.

at one point, he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “you’re doing great,” he murmurs into your hair, his lips brushing against your temple. “i know it’s scary, but you’re handling it so well.”

“i don’t feel like i’m handling it well,” you admit, your voice small as you cling to him, your fear still simmering just beneath the surface.

“you are,” oscar insists, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “you’re being so strong, and i’m really proud of you. just remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here, always.”

you nod, burying your face in his chest again, taking comfort in his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. you’re still scared, still feeling vulnerable and lost without your glasses, but with oscar holding you, guiding you, you know you’ll make it through the day. he’s your anchor, your calm in the storm, and you know that as long as he’s with you, you’ll always be okay.

[oozebrain]

Art the clown x anxious reader. After a nightmare you find solace in the most unlikely place.

Lots of fluff and comforting from Art. Fic is SFW but would still prefer for minors to not interact, thank you for understanding.

And Then I Turned Away

Insp by this song

You awaken in a panic, heart racing and skin drenched with sweat. You feel hot and it’s difficult to breathe as you shed your comforter and crawl into a protective fetal position. The cool air from your ceiling fan drifts over you but it does nothing to stop the all consuming heat that is saturated into your skin. Your breathing is shallow and rapid, eyes fixed on nothing in particular in the corner. You feel detached, disoriented. If only there were something you could hold onto to cement you to this moment you may be able to make it through.

Fumbling through the dimness, you seek out your pillow and draw it close to your chest. You hug it tightly, desperate to find some sort of relief in the action. You claw and dig at the pillow, nails scraping against the rough cotton pillowcase. In the dark you can hear sniveling and soon realize the sound is coming from you.

You bury your face in the pillow. It was just so real. The nightmare had been of memories long repressed, things you wished to forget but they merely lingered like ghosts. They were stains in your mind that you had tried and tried again to scrub out but they never seemed to fade, not completely.

You realize your pillow is wet, disgustingly so, but still you cling to it. You feel alone and small in a world that is too large and confusing to navigate. Something is rising up in you, something frightening that you can’t face, not yet. You close your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to pass.

Years of therapy had trained you for this moment, but your breathing techniques weren’t working. You grew frustrated as a sense of helplessness overtook you. It was all consuming and threatened to spiral out of control at a moment’s notice. Your breathing becomes more erratic as your pounding heart continues to beat faster and faster still.

Suddenly you were sloshed around in your bed as Art dove in beside you, clearly thrilled that you were awake. He stretched out on the bed and let his arm flop over you affectionately, but the sob that wracked your body immediately stilled his touch. Art furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes at you, observing you curiously. He gently touched your cheek, feeling the wetness that streaked down them. He brought it to his lips to taste then looked down at you with an expression you’d never quite seen before.

It was unreadable, a stoic monolith before you as the gears in his head were visibly turning. Art remained still for a time before allowing his hand to tentatively rest on your shoulder. You knew he could see you trembling as adrenaline flooded through your system, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it pulsating within your teeth.

You focused on the weight of his hand, rough and calloused from years of practiced work with weapons and brutality. As they slowly caressed your sleeve, the rough skin of his fingers mimicked the comforting sound of nails on fabric. You focus on the sound, listening to how it faintly bounces off the walls of your otherwise quiet room.

Willing your eyes shut, you allow yourself to focus on nothing but this moment. Art slowly curls around you, pulling you gingerly against him as his arms fasten around your midsection. His hold is careful, as though you are the most fragile thing on this earth. You didn’t know his touch could be so feather light as he affectionately nuzzled into the back of your hair.

He took a deep inhale, relishing your scent before giving a long exhale. You felt the hot air escape his nostrils and, in a way, it brought you peace. He was warm, but not overly so as you felt your body gradually begin to cool down. Your heart, though still palpitating, was trying to find its natural rhythm.

You tried your breathing exercises again, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. Though he was behind you and remained still, you could feel him watching you. After a moment, he began mirroring your breathing, inhaling in time with you and exhaling. Upon his breathing, you were reminded of the presence of his body nestled into yours.

To get even closer, he wrapped his leg around yours, possessively pulling you into him and fully consuming you with his own looming stature. You were safely enveloped in the arms of someone much stronger than you, someone who could commit acts of unspeakable evil, and yet here he was expending that to hold you with every ounce of strength he could muster without hurting you.

He rested his head atop yours and you could feel the familiar hum of the rumbling in his throat. It was silent, but you could feel it nonetheless. A roaring purr that soothed you, and that was so strong you could feel it resonate in your chest. You craved this feeling, this subtle vibration that spoke of nothing but adoration and peace.

You turn away from your sopping pillow and nuzzle into his chest, an action he happily obliges to. Art curls around you more, running his fingers through your hair and lazily coiling it around his finger as his other hand drew you near and rested it in the small of your back. He made a motion to rub upward before trailing back down. Art repeated this motion in a robotic, calculated manner and he would adjust to your response.

Sometimes it was almost as though he could read your mind, or sense your true nature. It was hard to hide your emotions from Art and he always seemed to be one step ahead. Briefly, he tilted your head upward and offered you a small bump to your nose with his, gingerly rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. He drew back and looked at you with questioning eyes.

You blink up at him, eyes tired and sore from such an intense crying spell, but you are able to offer him a small smile of reassurance. He remains stoic, eyes still seeking and searching, but your response seems to suffice and he draws you in once more, holding you close to his rumbling chest.

The deep purr tickles your ear slightly and you can feel the dull roar penetrate to your soul. It feels healing, warm, enveloping. You bask in it and, finally, draw a full and shaking breath. You hold it a moment before exhaling and closing your eyes. As calm slowly seeps into your system the events of tonight’s nightmare grow distant. You realize you are safe and protected in the arms of your companion.

It leaves you feeling drunk, your head swimming blissfully as your body relaxes and your heart finally returns to a normal pace. Art, too, seems to relax as he feels the tension leave your body and your breathing gradually return to normal. But he does not pull away. Instead he nuzzles your forehead, adjusting so his may rest against yours. He closes his eyes and places his hand on your cheek, thumb carefully grazing away the remaining streaks of tears.

As always, he says nothing but offers you his companionship, his affection, his touch. You are dwarfed against his imposing frame and you allow yourself to be covered completely in his arms as you, too, adjust so you can nestle in as close as possible.

Your tired eyes grow heavy and you blink sleepily, long, slow blinks that become longer with each passing moment. Art’s eyes are still closed, and finally you close yours. You are in the arms of your ride or die, and it brings you the most peace you’ve ever known. As you lay drunk in the feeling, sleep overtakes you and you fall asleep to the distant thunder clouds in Art’s chest and the warmth of his heavy hands stroking your back.

[fanaticsnail]

Body Worship: Franky

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 3,100+

Themes: Franky x gn!reader, angst, self worth, Franky has a little bit of dysmorphia, affirmation, fluff, smut, thigh riding, confession, body worship, praise, love, porn with feelings, mdni, NSFW, smut, 18+, non descript smut, grinding.

Notes: Massive shoutout to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for listening to my thoughts and aiding me with my time on this fic. I love this man, and I adore you. First time writing for Franky.

Cogs, wires, fizzes, and snaps of electrical circuits rang and shuddered within the chambers crafted by Franky’s own hands. There was never a silence to be held within him, not a calm moment where his body was not ticking like a clock wound by a coiled winch. He was constantly on, always on.

There was not a moment where man and machine were no longer merged as one, and Franky usually had no issue with being a self-made man in more ways than simple determination and gumption. But today, he just felt unnatural. He felt those cogs, wires, fizzes and snaps of electrical circuits overtake the humanity he so desperately attempted to preserve within himself.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t see the body he crafted as a work of mastery, but something foreign and tainted. He couldn’t look at himself without seeing the parts of his flesh, bone, and muscle he replaced, rendered, soldered, and attached. He was no longer himself, but just those parts he forged to keep himself alive.

A pile of scrap made into the shape of a man. Flesh from his prior life stretched over a frame of humanity pushed to its extremities.

Unsure as to when the first tear fell, or whether they were tears at all, his rounded eyes swelled and poured heavy drops down his cheeks and onto his chest within his workshop. Usually when he cried, he had the sensation of an almost sting in his nose: nostrils flaring and a saltiness within his nasal cavity. The lack of this feeling within his steel nose now only made him feel more like a machine and less of a man.

A soft knock at his workshop door was barely audible over the mechanical symphony rattling within his mind and skull. He scrunched his eyes shut and focussed finding a single sound to focus on within himself to no avail. It was just too much. Too noisy. Too intense. Too overwhelming. Too-.

“-Franky?” your voice shocks him out of his spiral, truly unaware of the opening and closing of the door to his workshop. He jolted back, beginning to panic a little while his body caught up to the way his mind was spiraling.

Keeping a safe distance away from the cyborg, you took him in. Noticing how his shoulders and hands were beginning to shake, you tilted your head and furrowed your brows while assessing him further. Franky’s eyes met with yours, a soft quiver of his lip atop his tri-pointed chin matching the forlorn expression blooming over his face.

As ships’ counselor, it was your job to advise and flesh out plans for your captain. It was also within your job title to unweave the troubled thoughts and matters of the head and heart for your crew.

Franky was a friend to you, and you adored the large cyborg wholeheartedly. If he ever gave you an opportunity to see him as more than just a friend or crewmate, you would take it before your heart could skip a beat.

There was no favorites on the Straw-Hat crew, but if there was, Franky would be it for you. You truly loved him for all that he was: man, machine, or otherwise.

It did not take much more than a soft sniffle from the larger man to usher you towards the larger man, opening your arms and taking him within your embrace. Pressing his head against your chest, you cradled his face within your hands and slowed your breathing for him to join with his own. His shoulders slouched, a single hand wrapping around your back and feeling the warmth your body had to offer him in the sensors within his palm and fingers.

Gently carding through his blue hair, you felt him relax into your touch while his ear pressed up against your heartbeat. His broad hands began to clutch at you and tug you into his lap, each thigh placed atop his own at the side while he pressed more of himself into you.

“Want to talk about it, big guy?” you asked softer than a murmur, but louder than a whisper, “I’m always here to talk with you when you need it, just like you are with me. Open door, honesty policy, remember?”

Franky sniffed before a raspy chuckle rattled in his throat. Tugging you nearer to him and releasing a sigh, he moved his chin to rest on your chest while peering up into your face. Gazing down at him, you offered him a softness in your smile while peering into his unshrouded eyes.

“Just-...” he began, waiting for the words to find themselves in his throat, “...It's just… I can't quite put it to words, now you mention it.” His chuckle was more in a bid to rise one of your own, teetering off the more he drank in your smile.

Darting his dark eyes between your own, glancing briefly down at your lips, he drank in your appearance the closer he drew to your face. You and he were nothing more than exceptionally close friends, but the cogs churning in his stomach and heart desperately desired there be a moment. He leaned in just a touch more, his eyes rounded just a touch more while his jaw grew softly slack.

“Franky?” Your voice soothed him, a smile found in each syllable, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re wanting to kiss me.”

Franky’s eyes darted down to your lips, angling his tri-pointed chin up just a small shift more. His eyelids grew heavy, lashes heavy as his pupils focussed on the way your lips curved in your smile.

“Do you?” he whispered, his voice heavy and husky within his throat. His hands desperately clasped the small of your back, his receptors tingling in indicating your body heat growing warmer.

“Do I ‘what’, Franky?” you queeried, not shying away from his touch. You were curious to see how far he would take this action, enjoying the attention he was giving you and feeling secure within his embrace.

Franky’s outer hand slid down to your thigh, his other moving you closer to press yourself into his chest. The blue-haired cyborg moved his lips in a tone just above a whisper, his breath tingling against your mouth as he ascended them towards yours.

“Know any better.”

His lips immediately claimed your own, focussing his own existentialism on claiming your lips against his own. His skin felt your warmth as you opened yourself up to him. Each roll of his lips mouthing at yours was reciprocated with eager enthusiasm, and Franky began to feel just that little bit calmer.

Until he wondered if it was truly his skin touching your own, not what receptors told him it was. Was it his lips touching you, or the cogs behind him sending sparks to his mind and alerting his brain that it was truly you giving into him.

Did you even like him?

Were you attracted to the man that he made himself to be?

Did you even see him as a man, not just a creation marred with the injury of battle and reforged by his own mind?

You sensed his enthusiasm dwindle against your lips, prompting you to close off the embrace with a soft peck. As you pulled away your lips from his, you peered down at him with your eyes half-lidded and holding nothing but a slight amount of teasing pulled in a soft smirk.

“Franky?”

When you met his gaze once more, your smirk immediately fled your features.

His eyes were glassy, his expression the polar opposite of the manner he usually presented himself as. There was nothing of the boisterous, uplifting, passionate, and optimistic cyborg you had come to adore, and it's absence held you hostage.

“Franky,” you sighed, gently reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Please. There's something going on, and as your counselor, I need to know. I could leave the job at the door and just be-.”

“-What am I?” he answered suddenly, his lips toppling hurriedly over the words, “I need to know.”

Taken aback by his hasty questions, you furrow your brows at him and check him over. Darting your eyes over his face, noticing his posture becoming slightly slouched and his hands holding you in heaped fistfuls, you inhale a soft and steady breath before exhaling.

Your breathing inadvertently has him so the same, both inhaling and exhaling slowly and steadily. After a moment of you both dwelling in the silence, you answer him with a non-rehearsed speech from the heart.

“You are Franky,” you whisper, rolling the pad of your thumb against the apple of his cheek, “Shipwright to the Straw Hat Pirates, senior officer shepherding the Straw Hat Grand Fleet. Creator and master constructor of the Thousand Sunny. Former gang leader, who convinced those joining to switch from beer to cola, and-...”

Franky nodded you on, convincing you to continue to affirm him with your words. You could see it was not entirely the answer he was seeking, which spurred you on to change to how deeply remarkable you found him.

“...-You are so kind. An exceptionally intelligent person with your heart beating for others,” you nod to him, catching the hitch in his throat and paying it no mind. “The way your mind can see the mastery in machines, crafting it with your hands, and forging it into the best version of itself is a gift.” You draw your other hand up to his bare chest, feeling a fizz and beat beneath the skin while you speak.

“You don't just do this with your skilled labor, Franky.” You reassure him, glancing down to your knuckles on the back of your hand in his chest. “You see the potential in others, and coax them skillfully to bring it to the light.” A small laugh fled from your lips, prompting you to shake your head and whisper, “A remarkable skill, and I envy you for it.”

The dampness felt beneath the fingers on his cheek had you moving your eyes slowly back up to meet his own.

“You are, and will forever be, Franky: man, machine, both married as one and inseparable from the other,” you concluded, drawing your hand up on his cheek to slowly caress away his tears. “You are all of this, and you are so much more.”

Franky felt his chest soar, whichever fluid, whether cola or blood, pumped his heart and had him desperate to know more. Considering the fact you didn't pull away from the offerance of a kiss earlier, he drew his hand over your back and rested it on your hip while leaning in.

“What am I to you?”

Without skipping a beat, you spoke truthfully and from the chamber's within your own beating heart.

“And you are beautiful to me.”

Franky scoffed, rolling his eyes and almost pouting at your response. You sigh out with your brow arched high, gently perching your hands against his broad shoulders and grasping his muscles firmly.

“I mean it, Franky,” you reaffirm enthusiastically, “Everything about you is beautiful. Your heart, your soul, your mind, fuck,” you gasp, feeling the firmness of his shoulders beneath his hands.

A warm flush crept up your neck and swelled your cheeks with a vibrant fluster. Franky searched your eyes, darting down to your parted lips and back up to meet your gaze.

“What was that?” he chuckled, picking up your vocal inflection and teasing you with his smile.

“I just,” you halt yourself, slowly molding the joints beneath your palms and squeeze his muscles. “I usually… I usually focus on the mind and heart, but you're-...” Your fingers move down to his scarred pectorals, gently caressing a trail of timidity down towards his nipples.

“...-You're really attractive. Physically attractive,” you admit, pressing a little firmer against his muscles before dipping the pads of your index fingers over his pebbled buds. “Whether it was the kiss from a little earlier, confessing how I see your mind, my position currently on your lap, or the fact that there's a lot of tension between us right now…”

“Oh?” He taunts you a little more tilting his head to the side with a cheeky grin drawing up over his lips. Leaning forward, he pressed more of his pectorals against your hands and whispered coyly against the shell of your ear, “Tell me?”

“Shit,” you stutter past your lips. Eyes rolling a little, you suck your lips into your mouth to halt a moan from fleeing as you feel the tension only swell to a greater intensity.

Franky chuckles, his hands still running circles against your hips and gently ushering you in closer.

“Better yet,” he drew one hand away from your middle and drew it up to collect your chin in his grip. “Show me?”

Your breath hitched as you slowly drew your hand around in circles against his flesh. His skin felt warm to the touch, smooth and soft with coiled ringlets of cerulean fuzz shimmering against his pectorals. Moving your hands up and down his chest, your lips parted in surprise at feeling the buzz of circuitry beneath the stretch of flesh.

“Every nook you've notched into yourself is a work of art, Franky,” you exhale, rolling the pads of your thumbs against his abs and raking them towards his belly. “Each alteration and modification has just made you more you, you know?”

Franky felt his throat hitch at the admission parting from your lips. His body that he saw moments ago as a trap for his spirit, now being worshiped and praised for its mastery. As your hands ran over his skin, his receptors and skin both felt need and desire course through his circuits and veins.

Without any more prompting at your touch, he maneuvered you to straddle one of his thighs and held your pelvis flush against his own. Your hands automatically fled back up to the shoulders that held you captive as he pressed you firmly against himself.

“You like my body much?” The rasp in his voice tangibly reverberated within your chest and shot straight to your crotch, igniting it with need.

“Franky…” you gasp, his hands holding you against his thigh pressed harder, slowly rocking you over the hard muscle lurking beneath. “If you'd give me an opportunity, I'd drop to my knees and worship you like a devotee at an altar.”

Franky chuckles at the comment, using his large, metal hand gripping your waist to slowly rock you back and forward over his thigh. Your stomach bound in knots, your needs only growing higher and more incessant the more he puppetted you against his body and gazed into your eyes.

“No need for all that. I don't need it,” he laughed once more, moving forward and brushing his metal nose gently against yours, “But I do need this.”

His larger hand completely trapped your waist within his grip, knocking your knee against the bulge in his pants and grinding his clothed cock against your own body.

Manhandling you against his leg, bouncing you up to brush more of yourself against his cock, you felt trapped against him as he bore you fully against his body while holding your face gently. His metal thumb stroked your lip as you parted them to release a groan.

Soft whimpers and mewls left your throat as he held your gaze, his own gasps growing in need the longer he rocked you against himself. Your desire began to seep through your pants the longer he held you firmly and guided your motions.

“Show me,” he whispered, peering down his steel nose through half-hooded lashes. “Show me everything.” He worked you harder, his own cock leaking it's head and staining his red briefs with soft dewdrops of precum.

His abdomen tensed, feeling the need rise further in his stomach while his cogs, wires, flesh and bone felt more unified as one than ever. Humanity overtook his senses the longer his primal urge to feel more of you against himself.

You were no different, feeling your own release clench in the pit of your stomach and sizzle your eyes with the first sparks of euphoria. The need fogging your mind spurred you on to bare yourself down against him and begin rutting against him harder. As you found yourself falling over that edge, you clenched your eyes shut, earning you an immediate reprimand from the cyborg cariotting your bliss.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered firmly, “I said ‘show me’. I want to see you. Just you, baby. Gonna cum on my lap?” He rocked you harder, pinching your chin and giving it a soft shake to draw back your gaze on his own.

“Cum for me, baby.”

“Franky-!” you cried, feeling your eyes spring open as your vision blurred as your focus was marred by ecstasy. Your body flooded with endorphins, spurring within your chest and releasing the heavy knots in your belly. The damp patch below you deepened in intensity as your release seeped into his thighs.

Franky’s lips quivered as he darted his eyes between yours, finding in you that tether binding him to the mortal realm. With you anchored against him, he used your body rutting against his own to buck up his clothed cock and roll his hips against your thigh.

With a rough bark of your name, his cock began flooding his briefs with his own release. His eyes never left your face as he rode through his high while you came down from yours.

Two breaths, two hearts, two souls, two people: both enjoying their bodies while clinging to one another. That is where you found yourself, truly just intending to find his office to inform him your crew were about to make port in an island in two hours according to Nami.

As your body slouched against his chest, he cradled you in the same manner you did moments ago while reassuring him of his own body. He had never felt so secure as he did just now with his own body.

“Franky?” you whispered softly, turning your head and pressing your forehead against the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, baby?” He nuzzled against the crown of your head, “What's up?”

“We'll be making port in about forty-five minutes,” you gasp against his skin, pressing a shy kiss against his neck before hiding your gaze in his shoulder to cringe away your giddiness. Franky chuckles, reaching down and collecting your chin in his grip and turning you back to meet his eyes once more.

“Stay with me until then?” he asked softly, blinking slowly and and almost unsure of himself as you seemed to be. You found yourself drowning in his eyes, raw emotion swelling between you as you feel the chemistry fizzing up to a ruptuous tumble.

“After all that?” you scoff playfully, your smile painted over your lips and causing him to mirror it himself, “I'll remain by your side always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @ane5e

🎶 Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Bucky angst fic idea!

Bucky always flirting with Sarah to make Y/n jealous, but what he doesn't realise is all these are just making her more insecure and hurting her (blame my past relationships for that).

And it's quite apparent that she's hurt. By the time he realises, Y/n is deep into the spiral. But obviously, a happy and fluffy ending (maybe smut), cause otherwise I will die from broken heart 😩😩

I hope you enjoy this! and I'm sorry you've had bad experiences with relationships. It's their loss.

summary - bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

warning - angst, fluff.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You think as you watch Bucky laugh at something Sarah said. ‘Maybe I’m not pretty enough for him anymore?’ His eyes flicker over to you, shooting you a smirk before he looks back at her, touching her arm softly with his metal one. ‘What could he be saying for her to laugh like that?’ You don’t know why you're doing this to yourself, but you continue to watch. Every laugh, every touch, every word sends pain through your chest.

You don’t notice Sam looking over at you, and you don’t see how he shoots daggers at Bucky and his sister. The only time you are brought out of your haze is when you hear shouting, blinking away the tears in your eyes. Your gaze focuses on Sam pushing and punching Bucky, screaming at him. You watch as he turns and begins shouting at his sister. 

You get up and decide to leave because watching Bucky fight back and defend another woman and his actions feels more painful than watching them flirt. After walking for a while, you come across a secluded area with a beautiful ocean view, feeling so lost in your head that you don’t get to enjoy the sounds of nature around you. Your mind was too busy racing with thoughts of not being good enough for anyone anymore that maybe you should’ve never fallen for the blue-eyed soldier's smile or sweet words.

Because you left, you don’t notice Bucky’s gaze focusing on the empty spot or that he no longer hears Sam screaming in his ear. You don’t see the utter panic appearing on Bucky’s face or that he begins to spin, frantically searching for you. You are so lost in your head that you don’t hear him screaming your name, you don’t hear him finding you, you don’t hear the utter relief in his voice when he whispers your name.

Because why would you? This man you thought was supposed to love you and only you, who wasn’t supposed to hurt you, did. Knowing how insecure you are, pulling you deeper into your mind that, of course, you wouldn’t notice him looking for you or finding you. Because you didn’t think Bucky cared enough to come looking for you, you thought that he’d be too lost in Sarah’s eyes to notice you missing. 

“Baby?” Bucky walks forward, “Doll?” His brows furrow as he doesn’t receive a response, walking so that he’s in front of you. His heart jumps in his throat when he sees how far he’s pushed you. Bucky quickly crouches down, taking your tear-soaked cheeks in his hands. “Babydoll, I’m so sorry! Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Baby, baby!” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, desperately trying to bring you out of this. His arms wrap around your body, picking you up and carrying you to the house, dismissing Sam and Sarah when they try to step forward. 

He carries you to the guest room, cradling your face into his neck as he whispers sweet nothings against your hair. Bucky lies down, bringing you with him, holding you tightly against his body. “I’m so so sorry, babydoll. You are the only one I have eyes for, believe me! You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the only thing I look forward to.” His blue eyes flicker down to your face, noticing that yours are focused on his face, finally brought out of your state but staying quiet. 

Bucky strokes your bottom lip, staring at you lovingly. “I love you so much, and I will forever be sorry for what I’ve done. I should have realised that trying to make you jealous wasn’t right and was pathetic. I have such a beautiful dame on my arm, yet I felt the need to be a jerk.” His eyes fill with tears, and a sigh of relief leaves him when you roll over and cuddle into him. 

“I love you too, Bucky. But please don’t do it again.” You look up at him, pleading with your eyes as you don’t know if you’ll survive being hurt like that again. 

“Of course, doll. I’ll never do it again. You’re my doll forever and as long as you have me. I’ll continue making it up to you.” He places a soft kiss against your head, holding you tight against him as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 16

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

“WHAT THE HELL KIND OF OPERATION ARE YOU RUNNIN HERE?!”

Steve felt… numb. He was tired. He was hungry. He felt… lost. It’d happened so fast.

No amount of rational thought could have fixed the conclusion Eddie’s confused mind had come to. No explanation could have cut through the panic, the fear, the pain, that radiated from the omega, the air that’d been filled with such a sweet desire replaced far quicker with pain, anger, confusion and fear he’d been choking on it, the air vents unable to clear it quick enough, he’d been struggling to talk, struggling to breathe when the doors had opened.

Security had gotten him out. A Beta dragged him out by the scruff of his shirt while another two worked to keep Eddie's panicked, inconsolable self corralled away from him.

It happened so quickly. And now he sat there, his back against the wall, sat on the floor, head in his arms, a patch on his neck to mask the stank of Alpha negativity that'd undoubtedly have choked anyone in his immediate vicinity, a scrap of fabric in his hand, and Robin beside him, unusually quiet, her arm wrapped around his shoulders as they listened to the eldest Munson react as any guardian would in this situation.

He’d left his nephew at a clinic to be taken care of, under medical advisement, had undoubtedly spent the majority of the week worried sick, and then receive a call from clinic security claiming something had gone wrong. Wayne Munson had turned up in a rusted old pick up truck that screeched as it pulled up into the carpark ten minutes after security had completely ignored Owens's instructions to leave it alone, and did their job in contacting him.

nobody could blame them, it was their job to contact Eddie's next of kin should something go wrong.

It all happened so fast.

He couldn’t see Eddie. Eddie who was still in recovery, Eddie who still needed him. Eddie, who wasn’t done with his heat yet and needed to be taken care of and soothed by his alpha for at least another day or so, it wasn’t healthy to cut it short there.

Eddie still needed him. He could go into another spiral, he could hurt himself, he could—

He couldn’t hear Owens replies, could only hear Wayne Munson, the man rightfully furious that they’d allowed an alpha into his nephews room when the man was at his most vulnerable. It didn’t matter that Eddie was a grown adult man, it didn’t matter that he didn’t need a guardian.

And it didn’t matter that nothing had happened. Eddie thought something had, and in the state he was in, nothing could convince him otherwise.

The door opened, both Steve and Robin looked up in unison, both shrinking back as Wayne looked down at them both with understandable fury, nothing they could even argue against, and turned to Owens with a clipped “I want my nephew here in two minutes ready to go” Owens opened his mouth to argue, hell Steve opened his mouth to argue but Wayne simply held up his hand cutting them both off, “I don’t give two flyin fucks what you lot think, my nephew is coming home. Now. The worst is over, I’ll handle the rest.” Steve shrunk back under his harsh glare, too exhausted to formulate a reason as to why that was a bad idea.

It’d be fine. Wayne was family. The worst was over he was right, and sure the next twenty four to forty eight hours could go in either direction, he had to trust that Wayne could handle it.

That didn’t stop him from scrambling to his feet the moment Wayne turned to walk away though, desperation in the voice he barely managed to find “W-wait! Wait, please… Mr. Munson, I swear… I didn’t hurt him, an I know—I know that’s hard to believe, I get that, but—but could you… could you give him this, at least just—it’ll help, it’ll help him” Wayne looked at him through cold eyes, his expression damn near thunderous, silent for a moment, he dipped his gaze to the scrap of fabric in Steve’s hands, the towel.

Just a little towel.

A towel Eddie had clung to throughout the night, so close to his face, a comfort. Something still drenched in Steve. Wayne looked down at it with narrowed eyes and for a moment, Steve thought he’d refuse.

That he’d shoot him down without mercy, but something in him just couldn’t seem to do that.

That cold gaze softened, just a little, his shoulders relaxed as if acceptance had won some kind of internal battle inside of him, then wordlessly he took the towel with a subtle nod, and made his way out to wait at the front.

Security would bring Eddie out. He wasn’t a danger to anyone but himself in the final stage, not really. The final stage of a heat was just… recovery. An Omega needed comfort, they needed something or someone familiar, in shared heat situations they needed their alpha to take care of them or they could spiral.

They needed to be pampered. To be reassured. To be loved.

Every fibre of Steve’s being ached to be the person doing that for Eddie. He felt untethered. Unmoored, lost. He needed to be doing something, but he couldn’t and there was nothing even close to that something to fill the gap not doing it left behind.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye. Barely caught a glimpse of the Omega as he was guided through the barren halls toward the exit, dressed in clothes that’d no doubt be uncomfortable, itchy, scratchy on his sensitive skin, his head down never once looking up, never once looking his way.

The halls had been cleared of staff for Eddie’s safety. He still smelled like an Omega in heat.

It shouldn’t have happened like that. Eddie should have still been in his room, should have been able to wake up peacefully in his nest, should have woken up to a warm, comforting embrace, but instead it’d been panic. Fear, and confusion and Steve didn’t even know if it’d been avoidable.

Maybe if another alpha had been there, maybe if it wasn’t him. Maybe everything would have progressed as it normally should have.

“Go home Steve” Owens placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, voice so soft Steve barely caught it. “You should uh… take some time off, okay?” Steve barely managed to tear his gaze away from the doors Eddie had walked through, but when he did it was with eyes full of unspoken panic. “You’re not in trouble, Steve. We kept watch all night you… you’re an exemplary Alpha, truly a credit to your kind… your self-restraint is… well, I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it for myself, but I think it's best if you still take some time off. Use some of those holiday days you’ve built up, paid, of course, I think two weeks should cover it.”

“But—”

Owens held up his hand to silence him, before turning to Robin, who’d been doing her best to keep Steve grounded with her presence alone. It worked. Kind of. He wasn’t stinking up the hallway, but that could have probably been due to the patch covering his scent glands rather than anything she was doing. “Miss Buckley, take him home would you?”

“I uh… I can’t drive but—but sure, yeah, I’ll uhm, I’ll get him home. Should I come right back, orr—”

“Take the rest of the day. You’ve earned it.” She hadn't actually gone home much like Owens, so technically she'd have been due to start a new shift in around half an hour, but... alright.

And then he was gone, walking back into his office, and closing the door behind him, leaving both Robin and Steve alone in the hallway, none-the-wiser about what he was going to be getting up to in there, but neither having enough energy to really care.

“I told him after his heat we could… that we could—” be together, that all Eddie had to do was wait one more day, one more. And they could be together, that it’d be okay then… “I promised him, Robbie…”

“I know, Stevie… let’s just get you home.”

"...Okay." As if he had any other choice.

Part 18

[onelittlespiral]

Hey hi, I need your help asap! I was talking with my roommate and he told me about your new special deal. And I wasn’t really interested but my roommate let slip that he was gonna ask you to turn me into a nymphomaniac hunk for him. And I don’t want that, so I rushed to write to you. Please can you turn my roommate into anything that will prevent him to turn me, maybe show him a taste of what he wanted to force me into? Thanks a lot!

Subject: Customer Service Ticket #3478

Dear (REDACTED),

We hope to alleviate any concerns you have about our services. However, at this time, we are unable to process any changes regarding Order #100765. Any changes will need to be made by the authorized purchaser. If there is any other way we can be of assistance, please feel free to contact us at the number below. Otherwise, we know that you’ll soon be satisfied.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

One email and I was left in a panic. I can’t believe my roommate would try to change me. I called the number included on the email, dialed 2 for customer service, and waited as the hold music played. All the while I was left thinking. We had the usual quibbles about dishes and cleaning up and all that, but committing to the kind of shit he had laid out in his order? It had to be some kind of prank. I was just in circles, kept thinking how there must be a way to cancel the order. All the while I was listening to instrumentals of jazzy horns and synths. You waited five, ten, twenty minutes on the line, hoping for a response. You had other plans today, but this had shot those down. You could only sit, wait, and listen.

After 30 minutes of waiting and stewing, someone finally picked up on the line,

“Hello, is this (REDACTED)?”

“Yes! Finally. I have been waiting forever. You’ve got to help me man.”

“I’m sorry to hear you have been waiting so long. Have you been just listening to that horrible hold music for half an hour?” He sounded condescending, like he wasn’t taking my dilemma seriously.

“Yea, now I need your help. I need to cancel an order.”

“Are you sure you need to boy toy?”

The words bounced in your head and your jaw went slack. You feel strange… dizzy and confused. “Huuuh?” was all you could get out.

“Yeah boy toy, just tell me what you need changed? Unless the wait helped you calm down?”

Your mind raced, to think of what you needed. But the more you tried to think, the harder it felt, “Uhhhhh…”

The man’s voice turned helpful, “Well, let’s go over the order just in case, shall we?” You sat and listened as he rattled off details. “Let’s see, we have an order here for a sexy hunk, with an increased sex drive. One of our best lines. That sound okay?”

He sounded confident. Was it really the best? You must have wanted the best, “Yes.”

“Good, so that comes with our lean muscle package, with abs, pecs, and a bubble butt extension. Does that feel right?”

You feel a shift beneath you, and looking down something feels wrong. You weren’t expecting to see perfectly tanned skin, pulled tight against your six pack. As you glide your hand down your form it all feels so firm. So muscular. Your mind tries to think of a reason not to, but you mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy toy,” you lit up a bit. You liked it when he called you that. “Now, it also does come with a facial remodel. And I have it in the notes here you want the hair platinum blonde?”

You felt pressure in your face. Your open mouth snapped tight as your bones shaped and remodeled themselves. The pain was sudden and sharp. But by the time you lifted your hand to your jaw, it had stopped. Quickly, the memory faded to the background as you relaxed again, drool pooling out newly plumped lips, “Yuuh.”

“Perfect, perfect. Now, the last change I have here is a priority shift. You want to think only with your hungry hole boy toy?”

The hormone levels in your body jumped as your ass shifted uncomfortably beneath you. You needed to contain it, have some sense of control. Or do you? As you let yourself relax, you began grinding against the ground beneath you. Only one thought was left in your mind: you needed your hole filled. You began playing with yourself, and a faint moan was all that the operator needed to hear.

“I think that’s everything. Boy toy, wake up.” The fog receding in your mind did nothing to mask the horniness. If anything it made the need more clear. “Thank you for calling The Spiral customer service line. Goodbye!” And he was gone.

You barely could manage to navigate your way home. Every man was a distraction, as your mind raced with fantasies of being groped and used. But something within you made sure you made it through the complex door and safely into your apartment. You wanted to just lay down and try to sort out the day. But the man spreading out on your couch stopped you in your tracks.

A small voice in the back of your mind tried to say something was wrong. But your roommate on the couch looked so right. His features glistened in the dim light, highlighting his muscular physique and masculine features. His old, well worn wife beater and grey stained shorts left little to the imagination. And the sloppy demeanor and funk he emanated clashed with your clean and well-toned body. But the way his eyes fixed on you, the hunger and swagger in his gaze, left you weak in the knees. The attraction was instant, and with no willpower left, you buried yourself in his body and began worshiping this pillar of masculine energy. Inhibition was gone as you licked at the thin fabric separating you from your prize. And as he pulled his waistband down and shoved his sweaty cock down your throat, you let his flavor coat your pallet.

“Welcome home boy toy,” he groaned. That’s right. You were his little boy toy.

A buzz came from your roommate’s pocket.

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear (REDACTED)

Your order has been fulfilled. We have also closed Ticket #3478 at this time. We know you have many options, but thank you for the support.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[livin4woso]

Breaking the media

Chapter 2 -breaking the news

Surprisingly, the transfer between arsenal and Barcelona had been relatively fast arsenal were quite happy to send you to Barcelona due to the opportunitys it was going to give you. Now here came the part you had forgotten about you had to say goodbye to the people who have made you the player you are now and how well they have took care of you. The group had decided to have a get together in the holidays and you knew this was the only time you could tell them otherwise they will find out about the transfer pretty quickly due to social media. There was definitely some speculation of you moving as you saw the rumor posts on your Instagram feed which made you giggle to yourself knowing they were right but you can't interact with them otherwise your cover is blown.

It was they day of the event and now the nerves had really hit you, you had managed to convince beth and viv to take you because you knew you couldn't face your 'parents' yet. They picked you up and you hopped into the back seat of the car "you all good there y/n " beth asked with an unreadable expression one of worry yet it not slipping over her smiling face. "Yeah im good just jealous that all of yous got a nice tan and ive been stuck here" you remarked half sarcastically but also with a tone of seriousness you were a bit jealous that you couldn't go on holiday. "Yeah yeah well in two years we will bring you with us" viv chimed in smiling at you. The pwang of guilt hit you hard they didn't know you were about to tell them you were leaving the club and now it felt like you couldn't bare the news. "Yeahh that would be nice but i don't wanna be pain on your holidays" you say back "no no you'd never be a pain" beth responded. Yous continued to chat in the car and as every minute past the pit in your stomach grew deeper and was a lot more noticeable.

You walked into the venue to find it nicely decorated and privately booked. Thank god you thought to yourself just incase the tears came along with the news. The night was going well until leah came and sat next to you "hey y/n you've been awfully quiet tonight" she said "yeah im all good just got stuff going on at the moment" you replied not even trying to hide your emotions with leah "what stuff?, better not be you leaving us for barca like the rumors" she said jokingly not understanding that was exactly what was happening. That comment had sent you in a spiral though you couldn't cancel the deal now but your team mates will be so disappointed in you and disgusted that you left them.

You were lost deep in thought until you felt tears on the verge of your eyes "im going to the bathroom" you said standing up dismissing leahs comment. The speed you walked away at was fast but wasn't fast enough to contain your tears to the bathroom you hands wiped across your face as you made your way to the bathroom. You slammed the bathroom stall door with some force and then you let the emotions hit you your legs gave in as you slid to the cold tiled floor and it felt like the walls were caving in and you couldn't breath everything was overwhelming.

Meanwhile leah was sat in confusion and also a hint of panic and she got up shortly after you hadn't returned from the bathroom after a couple of minutes. She hadn't made it into the main area of the bathroom when she heard your sobs through the wall it was heart breaking to hear and yet she didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't deal with this it had to be beth and viv they had been the people to take you under there wing and look after you. Leah almost legged it to beth and viv who were stood next to eachother in the busy part of the room "beth viv i need your help" leah said so quick that it seemed like she needed the help "whats up leah" beth asked worry knitted through her eyebrows "its y/n she.. i dont know what happened.. i said one thing and she was fine the next minute she stormed off to the bathroom.. and then.. i" leah was rambling her head full of panic and it was viv who took charge of leah. " leah i need you to calm down for me and i will get kim to sit with you but i have to go deal with y/n" she said dragging her to a couch in the bar. She got kim to sit next to her and left them be while her and beth charged to the bathroom.

As the door opened you still hadn't got any better from when leah had checked on you infact it had gotten worse. You suffered from anxiety but it was never this bad well not for the past while it hasnt been this bad. You were so trapped in your own head you had forgot to lock the door properly so here it was beth and viv stood above you staring down at your body crumpled into a ball hyperventilating with your hands over your ears and your eyes clenched. It was a sight neither the older girls had expected to see but both knew what they had to do to hopefully fix it and know what was the reason for it. It was viv who had taken charge of the operation and she sat next to you on the cold tile floor beth followed quickly after. "Hey y/n love its viv, can i touch you" she asked gently after no response viv knew it was worse than she thought and she's going to have to do what she thinks is best.

She reaches for your hand which you grab as if it was your lifeline and this begins to draw you out of your mind "hey hey love look at me" beth said looking at you with the most empathetic look in her eyes her face knitted with worry. You look up at her your face puffy and red from the tears that still poured down your face "oh love its okay" she said as you basically threw yourself at her sobbing into her shoulder drenching her jumper in tears "im sorry, im so sorry" is the only thing you could muster up into beths shoulder "you have nothing to be sorry for love" viv said rubbing circles on your back with her hands "yes i do you're all gonna hate me and its my fault i should have been more responsible" you said this time sniffing the final tears away. "We wont hate you love but you need to tell us whats going on" viv said this time a lot more serious in her tone. You took a deep breath "im.. im going to Barcelona" you said waiting for the wrath of the two of them to tell you that they hate you "omg y/n that amazing, we're so proud of you" beth said pulling you in tighter.

You were shocked they were proud of you, they shouldn't be they should hate you "you're proud of me?" You questioned them looking up with glassy eyes "yes of course we are but we need to tell the rest of the team to celebrate" viv said standing up and dragging you up to your feet. You slowly crept out the bathroom where beth and viv sat you on the nearest seat away from the rest of the team. You had essentially begged the two of them to tell everyone else as you couldn't do it especially after having a panic attack in front of beth and viv. Luckily they agreed but you had to be in the room with them you trundled behind the couple like a lost puppy when they made you sit on chair next to them the suitation almost felt like an intervention "right so y/n has so big news to tell you all but she has asked us to do it for her" beth began to start "so for next season y/n is moving to Barcelona" she said with a smile on her face "omg you're joking y/n thats amazing" russo said to you "well in y/n" said katie following.

You felt positive about moving to Barcelona now and you had plenty people who backed you from a few thousand miles away you felt like this was the right move.

Your life was at peace until it hit the media...

[joelsflower]

a little thought i had let’s say i can’t sleep too and this would *definitely* cure me.

tw mature content 18+!!! a bit of anxiety (brief description of a panic attack nothing graphic), straight up porn (sos), no y/n, reader has hair but it’s only mentioned cause joel is addicted to its smell, otherwise not described, unprotected piv, veeeery lovey dovey deep sex tbh, soft soft soft dom!joel, mentions of subspace, one or two “daddy”, creampie, BRIEF breeding, overuse of petnames, reader cries a bit, thumb sucking, a bit of somno? joel fucks reader to sleep. that’s it. zero proofread first time writing smut ops

And it happened, again.

Without your control or consent, you eyes snap open and your heart jumps at an exasperated pace — just like it has been every other night. The weight of your day-to-day activities (added to your need to always give 101% of yourself to your work and lead your body and mind to exhaustion) has definitely and finally caught you.

Your thoughts start to tangle and suddenly your whole body is freezing and on fire at the same time, spiralling on a wave of anxiety; coming back to sleep is just not an option anymore. Attempting to at least hide from the cold breeze sneaking through the window and maybe calm your heart down a little, you reach your hand down to the covers, or you would have reached, if it wasn’t for the warm — and considerably larger than yours — grip around it, holding you in place.

And that’s when you feel it.

Him, bringing you back to peace. Inch by inch, moment by moment.

He’s sleeping peacefully, and it’s contagious — slowly, the sensation of him starts to guide your thoughts down, with his broad body spooning you and serving as your own personal bonfire. From head to toe, you feel safe again.

The hands that cage yours press firmly against each other, keeping you there through a hook made by his thumb invading the space of your much smaller fingers and finding its home there, reminding you that he’s not completely awake yet, but he’s with you.

It comes as a spark to the bicep that embraces your torso and pulls you closer, making your soft breasts almost spill from his hold. Suddenly, your body, mind and heart are all aware of him and nothing more — because right now, nothing matters if it’s not him; he has this power to keep you afloat in your most safe and vulnerable mindspace, and you follow him like a little bird laying on its nest.

You can feel the skin on your back almost melt as it presses against his broad chest and soft belly, warming and protecting your delicate body. One muscly leg comes to rest in between yours, molding your body into his and making the back of your thighs tingle from the hairs that adorn his. The ins and outs of his hot breath in your neck are also not helping

All you want is to let him take care of you. And at this point, he knows it too.

“Joel?” you whisper, fingers playing with his calloused kuckles. You feel the tip of his nose nudging your hair while a deep groan leaves his throat, sending colourful and shiny explosions of light down you spine and directly to your already throbbing core.

What can you do? It’s Joel. And what would your mind do if not go Joel Joel Joel Joel? When feeling the weight of his pinning you down, his beard scratching the soft skin of your neck and his rough fingers gripping your waist? After all the hard work he gives his life to accomplish just to give you comfort? For all the barriers he fought within himself just to be a better man for you? He loves you. Adores you. And you let him.

“I’m here, sweetheart” he assures, voice deep and drunk on the green apple scent of your hair. It’s his favorite. You’re his favorite. “Are you having one of those bad moments again?”

Your eyes water and you don’t answer him verbally (shit, you really didn’t want to cry), but let him know that you’re aware of his question by trying to pull your legs together, being interrupted by his own that sits perfectly in between yours — pressing forward and forcing yours open just a little more — just a little more so he can feel you, and you can trust him. He already knows how to make your pain go away, and the soppy pussy smudged against the flesh of his thigh only confirms the answer that he knows is floating in your pretty little head.

“Oh, angel,” he coos, matching his plea with a shift of his leg, taking a soft moan from you that lands directly on his heart “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Know what y’want. Gonna give it to you” he does. He always knows what you want.

“Please?” you beg, something between a moan and a whisper, as you feel his hands unclasp your own and each follow a path: the left one comes up to press against your forehead, freeing your mind from the unmerciful thoughts and nesting your skull against the curve of his neck, warm and safe and followed by soft kisses to your temple. the right one snakes up your chest and holds onde of your breasts tenderly, soothing your heart from the fear and thumbing at your nipple just to leave your head a little more fuzzy.

It does not stay there too long, tho. He brings it down to fist at his now hard cock, lining it with your needy, weeping hole. The contact of the thick tip with your lips makes you squirm under his hold, and for what seems an eternity, he keeps at that; starts down and collects your wetness with his head, letting it pool and mix with the precum bubbling there just to slowly drag it up and down your folds, up and down. Caressing your lips open and nudging at your clit, circling at a torturing pace that has your ears ringing.

After a little while, he brings it down and forces at your opening, unhurriedly stretching your tight pussy. The sensation of stretch and fullness is almost enough to send you over the edge; when you finally welcome him, mouth falling open, nails digging into his wrist and pussy ready to be fucked, that’s it — just the tip. In and out, in and out.

Which is good. But wait, is he taking care of you or teasing you? If Joel wasn’t holding his orgasm back for dear life and could answer now, he’d say he has greater purposes;

“Shhhhh” he sucks at the sweet little spot under you ear, keeping a steady pace inside of you. “Gotta do it, baby. Know you—“

“Joel, please—” you cry.

“No, hey,” he coos, using the hand on your head to twist it and hook his eyes with yours. His blow brown irises find you, and for a second you would even take just the tip the whole night if he told you to. “Didn’t prep you, did I, baby? Know you get just so tight when you’re feeling like this, hm?” you nod mutely, tears pooling at your waterlines at a unexpectedly deeper thrust, giving you a bit more of this cock. He’s so good to you.

“Shhh, none of that” he wipes one tear that runs down your cheek, “feel that? Too big to give it to you in one go. Gotta— fuck. Gotta stretch your little hole open a bit. Don’t wanna hurt you, not now. But you can’t do it, right, little one? Can take my cock just right?” The question becomes rhetorical when he slowly sinks his whole cock into you with an animalistic groan leaving his throat, “Fuck- yeah, baby you can. My best girl, aren’t you? My sweet, sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy”.

His words and girth stretching your tight walls open and making home for itself inside your hot, pulsing pussy have your head spinning. Being filled by Joel is the kind of experience that’s easily on top of any other you have in your life. Being filled, held and comforted by Joel has no price. His cock rests heavy and pulsing while occupying himself inside you, giving you time to adjust. His tip caressing sweet sweet spot deep in your core.

Still staring down into your eyes, he starts to move with very, very deep thrusts, “that’s it, baby. Took it all like the good girl you are. And all mine, aren’t you?” You attempt a nod but the thumb that circled your nipple now stuffs your mouth quiet, so the best you can do is blink the tears down your cheeks for Joel to kiss them. “I know, angel. That’s what you needed, ain’t it? For daddy to fuck those bad thoughts away? To fill you and fuck full you the way you like? Always gonna, baby, fuck—“ a particular clench of you pussy strangling his cock and he has to hold himself back again, “always gonna take care of you. Grippin’ my cock real tight, little one. Wanna cum already?”

Another nod. “Shit, cock so good got your head all empty, hm?” he murmured, more to himself, but continued his praise since it’s something you crave during those moments, “you can come, baby, whenever you want. Can’t wait to have your little pussy gushing ‘round me” he confirms his saying by accelerating his thrust just a bit, making your eyes roll and your body flirt with your orgasm. “Come on, babygirl, let go for me, hm? Cum all over my cock, angel, that’s it”

You feel your pussy spasming and gripping his length and what feels like your soul leaving your body. Your mind is floaty and your lips are hung open by his thumb while you feel your juices coat the outside of your lips and down your thighs, making a mess of your conjoined bodies. You look up at him with big round eyes and babble a “thank you,” receiving in exchange a kiss to your forehead and a shower of “I love you”’s and “you did so good to me, baby” and “who’s my girl, hm?”

Even tho, that’s not enough to distract you from the fact that besides still, Joel is very much hard inside of you. And panting on your back. And gripping your body for dear life. And as much as he knows you, you know him too. So in a matter of seconds, you know what’s about to happen, and you welcome it as a more elaborated thank you.

“Shhhhh,” he soothes one more time before starting to thrust into you again, this time more carefully hence how sensitive he knows you must be, “go to sleep now, little one. You’re okay.” He kisses you again and caresses your scalp with his fingers, the thickness of his cum-covered cock pulsing and comforting your insides and weighting your eyelids.

You’re drifted from your dreams a few minutes later though, when thick, hot spurts of his cum breed your used hole, claiming you as his, reminding you you’re safe and filled by his affection. He pants and moans at a lower volume, doing his best to not wake you up, as if the more “I love you”’s he’s spent on your ear wouldn’t dance their way to your dreams. He knows you’re feeling better now, and you know he’s going to get up in a bit to clean you up. But for now, you both know you want to stay like this for just a little more.

[lostgracestories]

Same characters: Morgott and Mohg. 😋

So we've had "how do they comfort their S/O," but how do they deal with being comforted? Whether it be from an injury, or maybe they've allowed themself a moment of vulnerability.

I literally love you, please never stop giving me ideas ❤ AAAA

Anyways, I'm lowkey writing this on my phone so not proofread or anything. 🫶 enjoy my loyal pookie

wc: 483

tw: injury, tiny bit of angst, panic attack

Rough Comfort

Morgott

Morgott didn't mean to, but he had sliced his bicep open in the midst of a squabble. At first he tried to hide it from you by bandaging it himself, but the moment you noticed the bandage when he stuck his arm out a little too far from his cloak, you forced him to sit down so you could fix him up. At first he protested, not wanting to get you dirty with his blood. But the moment the warm feeling of a healing incantion buzzed over his skin, he shut his mouth and a quiet purr escaped his lips. He tried to stifle it but the smile on your face convinced him otherwise.

Morgott definitely has self worth issues. He measures his worth based on what the golden order established omens as. The idea that he was cursed and unwanted would often weigh him down. Anytime you caught him silently spiraling, you would climb into his lap and draw circles over his rough features, offering him praises. He wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely loved the feeling of his face being touched in such a way. His shoulders would immediately relax and his eye would shut as he sunk into your hands.

Now, if Morgott is having a panic attack or feeling stressed, comforting him can become very difficult. He paces back and forth and rambles over the topic of trouble and it takes you nearly an hour just to talk him into sitting down with you. Finally, when he resorts to simply spacing out, you pull his head into your lap and brush your fingers through his hair. In these situations you find that silence seems to bring him the most comfort as he grounds himself with your touch.

Mohg

Mohg is a different story. When he gets injured, he immediately comes to you like a wounded puppy. Even for something as small as a minor cut. And you oblige him with praises each and every time, soaking in the delighted sounds that fall past his fangs.

Mohg doesn't particularly feel a sense of guilt for being born the way he was. In fact, he seems to celebrate his appearance and embrace his "curse" however, he does struggle with self image in what people think of him. He'll come to you all sad if he thinks that he wasn't "imposing enough" while explaining his dynasty to another possible candidate.

Finally, mohg sometimes also experiences panic attacks. But instead of fearing that he would burden you with his troubles, you are the first person he seeks out. The moment you see him, hands trembling and eye glossy with tears threatening to spill you take him by the hands and pull him into a much needed hug. Once he's calmed down a little, you'll sit with him and listen to whatever is troubling, he sometimes just needs to get it out of his mind.

[scribere-flores]

Sabo x Reader

~Just a hypothetical question~

Part 1 Other Parts

Word count: 5,2k words

Short summary: reader is a noble, fakes amnesia when she's found by the revolutionaries in the woods. Sabo aint buying it.

Some flirty stuff and spiraling thoughts in this first chapter, but nothing graphic.

MDNI 18+

___

Okay, so hypothetically. Let’s say your parents did a very bad job at ruling a country and then said country got overthrown by a revolution.

Then, let’s play with the idea that you, as the heir to the throne, fled so you wouldn’t meet a bloody death at the guillotine. Reasonable right?

But what if you got mistaken for a civilian by the revolutionaries? And that you now were sitting in the middle of their base as the thundering sounds of civil war could be heard in the distance. What exactly would be the best thing to do in this situation?

Just as a hypothetical question, of course.

 

Y/N was sitting on a cold, tiled floor with her back leaning against a crate. She tugged the blanket that had been draped over her shoulders tighter, studying the muddy spots that covered her otherwise pristine, white nightgown. She was trying her best to keep her mind occupied with something else than thinking about her current situation.

The volunteer army had found her passed out on the forest floor and her disheveled appearance had led them to believe she was a civilian who was trying to escape the chaotic battle.

In one way, Y/N was thankful that her awful parents had sheltered her and only let her interact with other nobles. It was the reason she wasn’t chained up in a prison at this moment, being subjected to torture. But on the other hand, the fact that the citizens of her country didn’t know her face had put her in an anxiety filled situation. Because, for how long could she possibly keep her real identity hidden before the revolutionaries found out who she really was?

 

Y/N looked around at the hungry and pale looking people present in the room with her. A ball of guilt formed in her stomach, had it really been this bad? How could she not have known about this happening in her own country. Famine, poverty, sickness, death. The thought that it was her own greedy parents that had caused this kind of suffering made her feel nauseous.

Y/N spiraling thoughts of guilt were soon replaced by panic as she saw a woman walk towards her. Shoulder length, orange hair sticking out from under a pink hat with goggles and a black band around her arm labeled *R.A* made Y/N realize something, this girl was part of the Revolutionary Army. The same organization that tortured nobles for fun and had helped the people to start this civil war.

“Hi, can you please state your first and last name?” The orange haired girl asked as she flipped through some papers attached to a clipboard.

Y/N panic grew, shallow breaths not bringing enough air to her lungs. Why did the Revolutionary Army want to know her name? Had they figured out who she was? Oh no, were they going to force her to read their manifest for days on end as a form of torture? Her mother had told her that they did that to the nobles they would capture.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked as she furrowed her brows and leaned down closer to Y/N face.

“I-I’m…” Y/N stuttered. A cold sweat appeared, making her nightgown cling to her back.

“Koala, what’s wrong?” A man with wavy blond hair came over to them.

He was wearing something Y/N would almost describe as a noble’s attire. But when she saw the goggles on the hat and the black band around his arm she knew, this man was also part of the Revolutionary Army. The two revolutionaries' conversation was muffled by the high pitched ringing in her ear.

Y/N could feel the blond man’s narrowed eyes roam over her body, assessing and studying her. She could see how something must have clicked in his mind as his eyes widened. Oh no, she just knew he had figured it out, he knew who she was.

“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked as he squatted down in front of her.

He was giving her a smile she couldn’t quite put her finger on. What did it mean? Did he look forward to dragging her to the guillotine? Was that the reason he was smiling?

Y/N wasn’t ready to die yet, she had so much she wanted to do. Things she wanted to see but never had the chance to due to her overbearing parents. The lack of air in her lungs was making her feel dizzy.

She didn’t want to read their manifesto. She didn’t want to be tortured. She didn’t want to die, not unless it was because of old age. Her vision started to become blurry and the last thing she saw was how the blond man furrowed his brows, before she passed out.

___

Y/N could hear voices around her. She was lying in a bed, she knew that because she could feel the soft fabric brush against her skin when she moved her hand. She pushed herself up and opened her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright light in the room.

“Oh, you're awake!” A female voice exclaimed, making Y/N jump by surprise.

She looked around the bed and saw three people, the orange haired girl from before and two new faces. The one wearing a white lab coat was obviously a doctor and the other one must be another revolutionary. Damnit, Y/N had wished it was just some horrible nightmare. What was she supposed to do? Just play oblivious and hope they didn’t put her in a prison cell?

Wait, now that she thought about it, why wasn’t she locked up already? She was sure that blond man from before had figured her out. So why was she in a hospital bed?

“Do you remember anything?” The orange haired girl asked. Koala? Wasn’t that what the blond man had called her?

Y/N didn’t answer, she just blinked and tried to comprehend her current predicament. How was she supposed to keep her identity hidden? Think, think, think!

“Hmm, maybe she’s like Sabo?” Koala asked the doctor.

“That’s one possibility. We did find a wound on her scalp, so she most likely hit her head at some point. I wouldn't rule out memory loss as a diagnosis.” The doctor answered.

That’s it! Memory loss was the answer to her worries!

She would just have to pretend to not remember who she was and there would be no way of telling. Nobody outside the nobles knew her face, there wasn’t even a single portrait of her in the palace. Her parents wanted to wait with that until they found her a good husband. Because it wasn’t Y/N who would rule the country after all, it was her future husband. She was just meant to look pretty and stand beside him according to her parents.

Faking amnesia couldn’t be that hard, right? She would just have to answer any question they had with *I don’t remember* and her life would be spared. No guillotine for her, thank you very much!

As a not so subtle smile spread across Y/N she could hear someone chuckle.

 

“What’s so funny, Sabo?” Koala asked with an annoyed tone.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N could see the blond man sitting on a chair across the room. He smirked as his eyes landed on her. “Nothing at all.”

Dear God, please have mercy.

Her false sense of security had caused Y/N to forget about that man for a moment. By the look in his eyes she could see that he definitely suspected her, but she wasn’t going to let that send her into a panic attack one more time.

She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told anyone yet, but it didn’t matter. As long as she acted like she had memory loss, he didn’t have any proof. And Y/N was going to make sure she didn’t crack under pressure.

Game on, you revolutionary prick.

___

Sabo liked his job. He liked helping people, liked getting praise from his colleagues and superior. And he knew he was good at his job too.

Well, at least most of the time. It wasn’t his fault if he sometimes got a little sidetracked by unforeseen events happening. Like the times when he would come across cruel, greedy nobles or one of those disgusting slave traders. He shouldn’t really be blamed if he gave those kinds of people some small bruises before taking them to be trialed, by a law-abiding court, of course.

 

But this wasn’t like those times, this was actually part of his job. The girl some of the volunteer army had found and brought back wasn’t a normal civilian. Sabo knew that the moment he laid his eyes on the pricey nightgown she was wearing. And when he saw the way she held herself even in a panicked state, he was certain that his suspicion was true.

It had been almost a year since he’d gotten his memories back. And while the memories he had of Luffy and Ace were good, most of the other things he remembered weren't. He remembered that house, his so-called parents and the endless lessons on how to be a true noble. How to speak, how to eat, how to stand.

And that girl did every single thing just right. He was certain she must be some noble trying to hide her identity as a civilian, and she was obviously terrified of being found out. But why? It wasn’t likely that she had any part in the cruelty that the people of this country had suffered through. From what Sabo had learned, the noble class of this country was kind of misogynistic, women not having any worth besides looking pretty and all that kind of disgusting thinking.

And he knew that she wasn’t a bad person. And definitely not your standard greedy noble who always puts themself first.

She had quickly volunteered to help out around the base camp. Serving food, running errands. Making sure there were enough blankets for anyone needing them, even giving up her own to give to a stranger.

She made mistakes of course, but how much could you ask of someone who probably never needed to lift a finger their entire life. The important part was that she wanted to help.

 

She definitely wasn’t a bad person. So Sabo had decided to investigate some more before he brought the fact up with his colleagues. In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt if he amused himself a little with trying to get the girl to drop the obvious *Oh, I don’t remember*- act.

It was almost adorable how bad she was at acting like she had amnesia. She would get so flustered and her face would turn red anytime he asked her something. He found this little game they were playing absolutely endearing, taking any chance he got to push her further. Which wasn’t all that often unfortunately, given the on-going civil war and stuff.

However, it had been decided that both sides of the war would have a ceasefire for a few days, due to some important holiday Sabo didn’t quite understand. But it gave him an opportunity, he was going to make that girl crack before the ceasefire was over.

___

“Hey, Jane Doe! Help me out for a bit?” Sabo said as he pulled Y/N into a small storage closet.

“Please don’t call me that.” Y/N sighed as she tried getting out of the tight space, unable to due to Sabo blocking the door.

“What should I call you then?” he said with a closed-eyed smile, moving his face a little closer to hers.

Y/N just mumbled out some nonsense words as she moved away from Sabo, her back hitting the shelves behind her. He was way too close for her to stay calm and that devious smile was sending shivers down her neck. He let out a chuckle before taking a step back and closing the door.

Wait, that couldn’t be good.

“W-why did you close that?” Y/N stuttered.

“Oh, no reason. Can you help me find the mallet?” Sabo asked as something flickered in his eyes.

The what now?

Y/N had never heard that word a single time in her life. What was a mallet, some kind of material maybe? It started with the same letter at least, but how was she supposed to know?

Y/N knew the look on Sabo’s face. He was doing it again, testing her. Trying to make her slip up, catch her. She wasn’t going to let him do that anytime soon.

“Of course, no problem.” Y/N said with a not-so-convincing smile as she turned and started to look around the shelf behind her.

She could hear Sabo humming as he searched the other shelves in the room, occasionally apologizing after he’d mistakenly brushed an arm or hand against her body.

This whole *You will never make me crack*-thing would’ve been much easier if Y/N didn’t find the blond man so exceptionally attractive. Wavy hair strands framing a face with features that looked sculpted by a God. The faded scar, that would be frowned on as an imperfection in noble circles, didn’t bother her one bit. In fact, it only made him look more enticing in Y/N's mind.

Tall, nice taste in clothes and frustratingly handsome.

Like, come on! How was she supposed to not feel flustered when he acted the way he did? Always standing close enough for Y/N to smell the mix of milky soap and salt from the ocean. Not-so-innocent eyes roaming over her body when he thought she wasn’t looking. Or more likely, he knew that she was looking and just didn’t care.

It had only been a week since she woke up in that hospital bed and this little game between them started. And Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew that Sabo enjoyed making her this way. She could see the amused look in his eyes anytime he’d made her blush like some incompetent girl who couldn’t hide her own feelings.

 

“Found it?” Sabo asked as he took a step, now standing right behind her back.

“No, not yet.” Y/N answered, flinching a little from the sudden lack of personal space.

“Are you sure you even know what it looks like? It’s okay if you don’t, but at least tell me why.” Sabo said as he moved closer, making the space between their body’s now close to nothing.

“Of course I know what a mullet looks like.” she scoffed, trying her best to ignore the small knot in her stomach.

“Mallet.” he said, making Y/N’s face red in embarrassment.

“T-that’s what I said!” she said with a shaky voice.

A warm puff of air tickled her neck as Sabo let out a deep sigh. Y/N was doing her best to hold back the whimper that so desperately wanted to escape her lips as she felt every little movement his body made against hers.

“How long are you going to keep doing this little act of yours?” Sabo asked as he placed one hand at the side of her waist.

“I don’t know what you are referring to.” Y/N said in a stubborn tone.

“You know, I’m starting to think you like this game as much as I do.” he chuckled as his other hand slowly started to travel up one of her arms, leather gloves brushing against the bare skin.

The grip around her waist tightened. Sabo’s body was towering over her, pressed against her, caging her in. As the knot of excitement grew, her body was starting to feel weak, like she was melting under his touch.

“What, does it excite you? Give you something different than your otherwise boring and mundane life?” The gloved hand moved to her neck, gently pressing it against her throat. “Tell me, I want to know.”

Sabo’s voice sounded like honey in her ear, making a soft moan escape Y/N’s lips. The air in the small closet felt heavy with tension as his body pressed against hers. The hand on her neck moved towards the shelf, grabbing something.

“Found it.” Sabo whispered into her ear before the hand on her waist turned her around.

Y/N knew that she must have been making a dumb face, since she was confused about what just happened. Sabo had taken a step back, holding what looked like a wooden hammer in his hand. A huge grin spread over his lips as his eyes drifted from her body up to her face.

“Cute.” He stated before opening the door and waved. “Well, see you later Jane Doe! Thanks for the help!”

Y/N sank down on the floor. Her heart was beating faster than she thought was humanly possible and her head felt like it was spinning.

What just happened? Dear God, please have mercy on me and send help.

___

Sabo had decided that it was probably for the best if he gave that poor girl (and himself) a break after their small encounter in that closet. Or encounter maybe wasn’t the right word to describe it since he had practically dragged her inside and trapped her. But God, that girl triggered something sinful within him.

He would’ve normally been feeling pretty bad about going overboard like that. But the fact that she had let that sweet, lewd sound escape her lips when he had pressed his hand against her throat convinced him, she had liked it.

The look on her face only made the fact clearer. Lust filled pupils dilated, a light pink flush over her cheeks and heavy breaths from her parted lips.

Even though he regretted it, just a tiny bit, Sabo was glad he left before he’d lost all control over himself. The best part could wait until he actually knew who she was.

But that didn’t mean he would stop having fun, it was actually even better now when he’d seen how she had reacted.

It wasn’t like he wanted to torture the poor girl. But fuck, the dirtiest thoughts in his head was almost telling him otherwise.

 

It was already late in the evening when Sabo started to look for her again. After searching for a while he bumped into Koala who told him that she had assigned the girl to cleaning duty in the makeshift cafeteria. And Sabo just knew he couldn’t miss out on seeing that, it was sure to be hilarious.

When he entered the cafeteria he saw the girl scrunched down like a ball, contemplating her life. On the floor beside her was a mop and a bucket with soapy water, both untouched by the look of it.

Sabo sat down by a table close to her and just watched her continuing to mumble *Dear God* and *What should I do?* over and over again, seemingly unaware of his presence. The scene gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction for a while, but soon turned boring.

“Need any help?” Sabo asked and then laughed as he heard a eep come from the ball.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes and… Fuck, she had been crying.

Sabo knew he really shouldn't find that attractive, but the look on her face made something inside him burn with want. Maybe he should be the one begging to God considering how much he wanted to make her cry.

But the good kind of crying of course. Her twitching in pleasure under him as her eyes watered from over sensitivity. Crying out his name as he made a mess out of her and…

Sabo stopped himself before his thoughts spiraled further and turned his focus back on the girl.

 

“So, do you want me to help you?” he asked.

“No thank you.” The girl stood up and quickly wiped her eyes dry.

“Do you even know how to use those?” Sabo said as he pointed towards the mop.

“Of course I do, I've seen the maids-”

She covered her mouth, stopping herself from finishing the sentence. But Sabo had heard what she was about to say. And when her face turned red, it was hard to keep the smug smile that spread over his lips.

“Maids?” Sabo asked, giving her a questioning look.

“I mean, I work as a maid.” The girl said as she waved her hands in front of her in a flustered manner.

“Oh, so Jane Doe remembers something?” He chuckled in response. Sabo knew that he would soon catch her in her lie, but he didn’t mind if their game went on a little bit longer.

“N-no, Yes, I… stop calling me that!” She looked like she was getting dizzy from his interrogation.

“Then what should I call you?” He repeated his new favorite question.

“Aren't you going to leave?” She snapped back.

“Nope, I want to see a professional maid at work. I might even learn a thing or two.” Sabo said as he leaned back on the chair, making himself comfortable.

 

The girl sent him a glare, even going so far as to stick her tongue out. Which wasn’t a well mannered thing to do. For a second Sabo almost thought that he may have been mistaken about Jane Doe’s identity.

His worries soon washed away when the girls picked up the broom in one hand and the bucket in the other. She looked around the room with a blank face, seeming completely at loss. There was no way she wasn’t a noble if she got stuck on the first step of something as simple as cleaning.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He asked, deciding to give her a little push.

“Of course I do. I was just about to start.” The girl said, giving the bucket a worried look.

What happened next made Sabo question what kind of life this poor girl had been living. But the fact became clear when she lifted the bucket with both hands and turned it upside down, spilling soap water directly on the floor. Some of it even splashed onto her dress. There she stood, in a puddle of water, looking completely lost.

And Sabo felt bad for her. Just how sheltered had she been before coming here? How little freedom would she have had if she never even saw someone clean before? He considered that there was a possibility that she never even left the house she grew up in, before running away when the revolution started.

This wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be. To be honest, the thought of how little control she must’ve had over her own life made him angry.

Thoughts of what could’ve happened if he didn’t run away when he was a kid haunted him from time to time since he got his memories back. It didn’t really bother him though, he had escaped the suffocating life his so-called parents wanted for him. He had been lucky when Dragon saved him from that shipwreck.

But she was still living that life, or at least until a week ago. She had probably spent years only saying yes and doing what others wanted her to do. Chains of oppression, only in a different and more privileged package than what the people of this country had been wearing.

He drew a deep sigh before standing and walking over to her.

___

“I’ll help you.” Sabo said, picking up the broom from the floor.

“You don’t have to.” Y/N said, as she tried to take the broom away from him.

“I’m only trying to do you a favor. Let me help.” He said again, pulling the broom towards him.

“Thank you, but I don’t need any help.” She answered, giving him a strained smile.

Soon a tug of war with the broom began as Sabo continued to insist on helping and Y/N continued to politely decline. After a few minutes of back and forths, she accepted that Sabo wasn’t going to give in. So she decided to let him win this time and let go of the broom.

Problem was that just when Y/N was about to take her hands away, Sabo pulled the broom towards him with a little too much force.

Before she knew it, she had completely lost her balance and slipped on the puddle underneath her feet. She closed her eyes and prepared for impact, hoping that she wouldn’t break her nose when she landed face first on the hard floor.

The painful impact never came to her surprise, but she definitely felt something hard under her hands. She moved them around a little before she realized what, or rather who, she had landed on.

Y/N mustered up the courage to slowly open her eyes. Sure enough, there was Sabo’s shocked face only a few inches from her own. Heat spread over her cheeks, quickly sitting up and frantically made apologizing gestures. This was by far the most embarrassing thing she had ever done. She had crash landed straight onto his chest without realizing.

It felt like her head was spiraling into chaos, but snapped out of it when she felt two hands on her waist.

“Please, stop moving…” Sabo said with a heavy breath.

It felt like a fuse was blown in her brain when she looked down and saw that she sat straddled over his hips. Then she looked up and saw a pinkish tint on Sabo’s face.

Y/N took back what she had thought just moments ago. This was the most embarrassing thing she had done.

“I’m so sorry!” She stuttered out as she leapt off him, now sitting on the floor. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

She moved her hands towards his head and started to look for any injuries. Only after Sabo sat up and chuckled did she notice the burning pain in her own ankle.

She must have twisted it when she slipped. Y/N gave her foot a worried look and let out a small hiss when she touched it.

Sabo stood up and before she knew it, she was lifted off the floor.

 

“W-wait, where are you going?” Y/N exclaimed, as she was being carried away from the cafeteria in Sabo’s arms.

“My room.” He stated.

“Why? I’m not done cleaning and-”

“You twisted your ankle, right? I’ll tell Koala later.” He said, almost looking a bit worried.

Y/N was about to argue back, but felt it was better to stay silent when Sabo gave her a closed-eyed smile that seemed to say “You’re not getting out of this”.

So she gave up, surrendered herself to her fate as she was being carried through the halls of the base. Luckily it was late and no one was awake to witness the sight. After a few excruciating minutes of walking they finally reached Sabo’s room and he put her down on the bed.

As Sabo went into the adjoining bathroom, Y/N took the opportunity to look around the room from her spot on the bed. It wasn’t large and barely fitted the few pieces of furniture that were in it. There was a nightstand next to the bed. Against the opposite wall there was a small drawer and a desk filled with books and stacks of paper.

Y/N felt oddly relaxed in the room. Maybe it was because she had gotten used to Sabo’s presence by now. Or more likely, the lack of visible torture devices.

Soon Sabo came back with a roll of bandage in his hand.

 

“Bear with me for a second, okay? I’ll try to not make it too tight.” He said as he squatted down in front of her and took her shoe off.

Y/N hissed a little from the pain when Sabo started to wrap the bandage around her ankle. She noticed he was trying to be careful, being as gentle as he could be. She almost let a giggle slip past her lips when he stuck out his tongue to the side, his eyes completely focused on doing a good job.

Y/N had a hard time believing that the handsome and kind man in front of her was one of the cold-blooded revolutionaries her mom had told her about. Sure, he absolutely took pleasure in seeing her embarrassed, there was no denying that. But maybe there were different kinds of revolutionaries, and that he just wasn’t the murderous kind.

“There, all done.” Sabo said with a proud smile as he made a small knot.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry… you know, about the thing before.” Y/N said, getting a bit flustered from what had happened in the cafeteria.

Sabo tilted his head up and looked straight at her. He really was too handsome for his own good. Then Y/N realized something… She was alone. In his room, a man’s room. A man that had made her head spin when he had touched her in that closet earlier today.

A bright red blush spread over her face as she jumped back on the bed, trying to put some distance between her and the handsome devil that sat on the floor.

“Fuck… you really makes it hard to hold back, you know.” Sabo sighed in a quiet voice.

“W-what?” She stuttered out.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He gave her a smile and stood up. “It’s late. You can sleep here tonight, I’ll find some place else.”

Y/N gave him a confused look. She had for sure thought he would take advantage of this situation to torment her.

“Or… I can stay and we can sleep together?” He asked, something dark flickering in his eyes.

“NO!” Y/N exclaimed as she threw a close by pillow at him.

“Once again. Cute.” Sabo said with a smirk as he caught the pillow in his hand. “Well, see you tomorrow Jane Doe. Sleep tight!”

Not even a moment later, he had disappeared through the door with the pillow in his hand. Y/N was left sitting on the bed, head spinning and heart beating like crazy once again.

It felt like she was getting whiplash. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that man wanted from her.

Did he want her to like him? Or did he just enjoy making her confused? Was he only trying to torment her with obvious flirting to make her crack and drop her fake-amnesia act? Or… did he actually want her? Y/N felt her heart flutter at the thought.

Well, whatever his motive was, she was at least sure he wouldn’t drag her to the guillotine. If he had wanted to do that, he would have exposed her and done it by now. However, that didn’t mean she was safe yet. She would still have to keep this act up, at least until the revolutionaries had left this Island.

After that she could start over. A new life without stupid noble rules or overbearing parents. A life where she could do the things she wanted. A life where nobody choosed how to dress, what to eat or who to love for her.

For some reason, Sabo popped into her mind at that moment. Y/N collapsed on the bed, the blanket muffling the sound as she let out a frustrated scream.

That handsome, revolutionary prick was going to be the death of her.

___

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 4

Warning: alcohol, graphic description of a bipolar crash and panic attack (or, at least how I experience them). Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Stepping into the foyer, the soft darkness envelopes him. Holding the door gently, he makes a futile attempt to mitigate the screaming hinges, before giving up and just closing the damn thing.

He's tired. It feels like he's been running a marathon, and as far as the exhausted muscle in his chest is concerned, he has. It's been pounding like a god damn drum, nonstop, for hours.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you a word that was said during the ceremony. You'd consumed his senses, filled them completely. He only looked away from you once, to fumble in his pocket for the ring, otherwise he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of you. He caught your scent on the evening wind, and the spinning in his chest turned faster.

He tried to hold onto his thoughts, but they ripped from his grasp as they started to spiral. He clenched his jaw, he had to hold it together. He was the Best Man at his best friend's wedding and he had shit he was responsible for. But his mind has always been a bigger beast than he is.

Look at her.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

She's perfect.

Your kind of perfect.

This will never be you, you know.

Freak.

Unwanted.

If you were human, you'd be together already.

If you were human, you'd probably be engaged by now.

Why does she waste her time on you?

All you do is drag her down.

Chain her to the sewers when she should be living a real life.

With a real person.

Why?

Why do you do that?

Why are holding her prisoner just so you can feel better about yourself?

He couldn't hear past the rush in his ears, but he was vaguely aware that there was cheering around him. Then you'd turned to look at him, smiling like the sun, and the answer crashed over him like a violent wave.

You're a monster.

He stops just short of the sitting room, eyes closing and jaw clenching, as the memory floods him.

You'd turned to him and smiled and for one moment everything stopped. You were the only thing that existed in the universe. You *were* the universe.

That's when he hit the wall.

A sharp inhale was the only outward indication of the crash. But inside, he was screaming.

You're light streaked through his veins like fire along saltpetre. Burning away all pretense. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he needed, he would never be more than this. He could dance with you, sing with you, laugh and cry with you, but he could never ever love you.

Unacceptable.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

The guests in attendance began to disperse, while the bridal party stuck around for pictures. Through the smoke haze he could see very little, and could hear equally as well, though his body seemed to know what it was doing. He had no choice but to trust it.

His heart was pounding, and he's pretty sure at some point Casey thanked him, but his only thought by that point was to get away from everyone.

As soon as there was an opening, his body excused itself and made for the house. He was winded by the time he reached the side opposite the party, the panic attack threatening to consume him.

He put a hand on the wall, leaning against it with his head down, trying to breathe through the burning. His hand flexed and the antique wood siding of the house cracked under his fingers. He ripped his hand away, scalded.

You destroy everything you touch.

He'd stumbled backward, staring at the spiderweb cracks left behind by his fingers, a dry sob escaping him.

What hope does she have?

Eyes closed tight, he balled his hands into fists and pushed everything down. Get it together, he'd berated himself, you still have shit to do.

Three deep shuddering breaths and then he could breathe evenly. He locked the panic down tight and opened his eyes. It would hit him later, and twice as hard, but this was more important. Just a few more hours.

The reception was a blur of flashing light and discordant sound, and he avoided you for most of it. Or tried to, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape you.

Four separate times you had hunted him down and begged him to dance with you. And as the champagne flowed, and the night spun on, you became harder to avoid.

"Boo!" you said, peeking around the bar at him, grinning. Your cheeks were flushed pink from drink and dancing, and your scent wrapped around him with the night air. He tightened his jaw and tried not to breathe.

"Yoooouuuuuu've... been avoiding me," you accused, slinking around the wall, practically lying against it.

"Busy," he rumbled, starting to mix a drink for no one, and not looking at the siren calling to him.

"Oh come on, Red," you'd pouted, standing up from the wall, "The night's almost over and you haven't danced with me once." You walked over to him "Please? You've been working this whole time, come have some fun. I promise the reception won't fall apart without you." You teased, placing a hand on his forearm.

He froze the moment you touched him. He was shaking and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was you knowing that something was wrong. you cared about him too much, and your knee-jerk would be to fix it.

His hand tightened around the high ball and Mike popped his head around the corner like a god damn superhero, "Hey, they need you for the bouquet toss."

"Okay, one sec," you replied, and he disappeared again. "Please try and have *some* fun tonight?" You squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

When you removed your hand his skin burned, and it wasn't until you were out of sight that he risked breathing again. He'd set down the glass, braced himself on the bar, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the cracks in the glass where he'd been gripping it too hard. He drew a deep breath.

He wasn't going to make it.

Snatching the bottle and leaving the broken glass, he made for the house. He skirted the perimeter of the reception, trying to be as inconspicuous as a 6'5, 350lb, bipedal turtle dressed in a tux can be.

He heard the countdown and made the mistake of looking over as April's bouquet flew through the air. You weren't even trying, you were talking, but, as if the Gods were punishing him, it had landed in your hands anyway, and he felt his pounding heart clench.

He watched as one of the other guests came up to you and placed a very human hand on your arm, presumably asking you to dance.

It will never be you.

He turned and continued toward the house until he heard familiar clumsy footsteps coming up the hill behind him.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red? Oops!" You'd said, giggling as you nearly tripped.

Your voice pierced him like an arrow, pinning him in place. He tried to take a deep breath as quietly as he could, but you've always been too good at reading him and asked if he was okay.

You'd persisted when he tried to brush you off, and he'd come up with some excuse. The longer you stayed there with him, the faster his resolve was crumbling, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of you. This was not your problem, and there was no point in runining your night, or your friendship.

He attempted to sidestep you, and you'd brushed against his arm. Your touch seared him, and reflex caught your wrist in his hand. For the first time in hours he met your gaze.

Disgusting.

Unworthy.

Why? Why make him this way? Why give him the ability to fall in love at all if he wasn't allowed to? What kind of cruel bastard...

Your wrist flexed in his hand and you looked up at him with an expression that said, I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. It's a familiar look, and it brought him back to himself. You're always the one he runs to. Now he was running away.

He dropped your hand, muttering an apology and fled without another word, leaving you behind.

Heart hammering in his chest, he nearly stumbled with the force of it. He made it to the other side of the house and collapsed, a wave crashing over him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pulling in air, and getting nothing except dizzy.

On his knees, hands pressed to the ground beneath, it felt like his shell was crushing him. He maneuvered himself to sitting on the cold slate tiles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were no more words inside his head, only screaming, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped his head tight, begging for it to stop. Some vague part of him was aware that he was crying, but any thoughts were swept up into the vortex inside of him.

The panic attack held him, shackled to his faults, for seventeen minutes, but it could have been a year. By the time he finally felt it begin to subside, he was exhausted and trembling.

He'd retrieved the bottle of whiskey that had rolled under the nearby bench, and, with great effort, managed to pull himself onto it. He'd held onto the bench to steady himself, before opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it.

He remained there until his father found him.

He takes another deep breath, exhaustion seated heavy, like a stone in his chest, and rests a hand on the wall beside him. He needs sleep. He continues to make his way toward his room at the back of the house, passing by the open archway to the sitting room.

Where he finds you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag List:

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[psychotic-nonsense]

Steddie Week Day 6: Drunken Confessions

------ slight warning for SH talk ------

Eddie doesn't expect anything from Steve right now. Just a steady breath, in and out, to prove he's okay.

Well, as okay as he can be, coming down from the night they've had.

It was supposed to be a boy's night, as Robin joked when Steve proposed it. A night out of town to just get some drinks and hang out together, something they rarely get to do without the kids around. Jonathan and Argyle backed out in favor of catching up, the latter visiting for the weekend, so it was just Steve and Eddie.

It was supposed to be fun. And it was, arguably a contender for the best night of Eddie's damn life. Getting absolutely shit faced at some random bar and singing a shitty duet for the bar's karaoke night, living it up the way they never thought they could.

Until some random fucker twice as smashed as them shoved Eddie in the parking lot while they called for a ride from Nancy (at her insistence before they left). Said something Eddie's already grown used to tuning out.

But Steve wasn't. So he retaliated in Eddie's defense. And his fighting reputation was lived up to, the whole thing disarmed only after Eddie swung back at the guy hard enough to knock his drunken ass down.

Seeing Steve gasping and bleeding on the ground struck the wrong cord with Eddie, spiraling him into a panic attack right there on the side of the road. He was lucky Nancy showed up almost immediately after, otherwise the two of them would still be stuck there, Steve concussed and Eddie drowning in his own head.

Now, post cleanup and shower, with ibuprofen and waters downed, all Eddie needs right now is to feel Steve breathe. They haven't talked since coming back to Steve's forever empty house, haven't even turned off the bedside lamp. Just found themselves laying together in Steve's room, Eddie draped across Steve and holding each other as tight as their sore limbs allow.

Eddie rises and falls upon Steve's chest, staring at the light illuminating Steve's swollen face. Nothing has changed since Steve shut his eyes, and Eddie's nearly being lulled to sleep as well, until...

"I want to be in pain."

It's just a crackling whisper, not even enough to make his chest rumble with actual sound. But Eddie's already so tuned to Steve's sounds right now, he still hears it.

But something about the tone, at this time, in this place, makes it feel so much more fragile. So Eddie doesn't dare move.

"I don' like it... but I wan' it..."

Steve's still drunk. He's slurring. But his chest rises and falls and Eddie doesn't dare speak.

"I want it all th' time... I hurt more if 'm not..."

Steve's hand tightens where it's been resting against Eddie's back. Eddie's shirt crumbles in the fist, Steve's hand shaking with the strain.

At this Eddie dares, just a little, because he's drunk too. Not just on alcohol but on love. Pure, real love, stronger than any he's ever known. Hitting him so suddenly like a train, but landing him in a place that feels like the coldest pillow beneath the warmest blanket. He trails his hand up from where it was resting over Steve's stomach, slowly and carefully cupping Steve's face.

It's like Steve falls apart at the touch, his face crumpling into despair and loneliness and longing. His expression twitches with it, his black eye not allowing as much as it clearly wants.

"It made'em all stay... Mom, Nance... I was hurt, 'n they had t' stay..."

A tear slowly climbs over Steve's stolen eye, resting in the cave over his collar. Eddie's too busy watching it travel, misses Steve's arm coming up to his own until they're touching. Steve's hand circles his wrist, holding it almost reverently.

Eddie's glad Steve's eyes are still closed. Saves him the agony of seeing all of these blatant emotions reflected within those gorgeous eyes. Saves Steve the sight of Eddie's own grief, his pain at hearing such a confession.

"My pain made 'em stay... made 'em care..." Steve holds Eddie closer, tighter, everywhere. Begging and pleading, please please please. And then it clicks. "I jus' want someone to care about me..."

Eddie's eyes go wide. Tears prick at the back of his throat, his chest aches with longing, and his fingers tighten on Steve's skull. The anger, the fight, those nights months ago where Steve never left his side, oh, oh, OH...

And Steve's going limp beneath him, sleep finally catching hold to chase away the night. But his chest still rises and falls and the tears leave their marks on his face and Eddie finally dares.

"You have me... No pain needed, ever, not with me... Whatever it is, whenever you want it... time, attention, care... l-love, Steve... It's all yours... It's all yours..."