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zepskies · 3 days ago

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I know you're telling me not to worry in your AN, but I can't help but worry. 😬😬😬 That supe virus was nasty AF in season 4.

In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

As ominous as this situation is, there's something really cute about picturing Ben doing this lol. He loves her fr fr. 💗

“I told you not to worry. I’m alright,” she says, her throat dry and her voice coarse. Her words are meant to soothe her husband. She can see the worry shimmering in his juniper eyes. She’s lucky he’s not a supe anymore, or he would’ve gone nuclear a while ago.

Small favors? 😅 Your worldbuiding with the cure vs. the virus is so interesting here. I'm wondering how they're going to get her better at this point if they can't make her a non-supe...

And admittedly, she knows she might be in denial. If true, it seems like a cruel trick the universe is playing on her. Giving her all she’s ever wanted and take it away immediately after? It definitely feels like a cosmic joke all the Gods are laughing about. But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

But that moment where she literally coughs blood is so visceral. 😭 Really well done, even though my heart is in my throat now. 🫠

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

So sweet. 😭 I was expecting his call to Victoria lmaooo, aaaand it went about as well as I expected loll. You've soothed my worries that she was the one who might've had something to do with the reader getting sick, but I'm still on the edge of my seat on how you're going to fix this...

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?” “Shoot me.” Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner. “No.” The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

I felt that No in my chest, jeezus. 😭😭

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.” “Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery. “Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

Oh my Goddd their rehab days coming to bite her in the butt loll. But good on Ben for learning something! 😂

“Is that you or the fucking V talking, huh?” Ben has never said it out loud before, but he hated how that blue shit changed her. Sure, it only amplified certain parts of her that he supposes have always been there, but it made her less caring, more arrogant, too.

Honestly I could see this. 💔 The V changes people, typically for the worst. And with her, I feel like she was kinda quick to suggest divorce after everything she and Ben had been through.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

lmfaoo. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. 😂

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time. Not hers.

Aww not the survivor's guilt!!

“You selfish fucking prick! You can’t even let me die in peace?!” she grits through her teeth, fighting another surge. She feels the nausea too, like a parasite trying to flee its host through her throat. “Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

OhGodohGodohGod!! Her anger is so valid, but also, I can't help but root for Ben's side on this one. 😅

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’ And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

oooooh the waiting. But at least it's not a long wait!! loll So excited for the grand finale tomorrow!! I have a feeling Ben's gamble is gonna pay off, thanks to the one time he paid attention to science. 🤓

Lover – Part 2

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, angst with a side of hurt/comfort, sickness & generally gross descriptions thereof (the Gen V virus says hello 👋 – with minor adjustments), tw: mentions of euthanasia & suicide, sprinkles of fluff between

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Don't read too much into the whole virus situation, guys. I promise this is a full fix-it, and that annoying little bug is just how we're gonna do that 😜 Come tomorrow, all's well because we all know the V stands for... I do this joke every year, don't I? Never mind! Happy reading! 💕

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Part 2: Lovesick

Ben’s worried. Y/N keeps saying she’s fine.

They stroll through the supermarket. Benny pushes the cart in front of them, racing down the aisles.

She woke up this morning around eleven o’clock after a thirteen-hour sleep. He’d held a small mirror under her nose several times at night to assure himself she was still breathing. She never woke up. She’d looked so peaceful it had almost been creepy.

She also sweat through her sheets and jittered like a leaf in the wind. He tried to hold her when she was freezing and gave her distance when she was ablaze. In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

The hard lines on his face are still there, though. They never left.

Ben isn’t entirely clueless, however. Sure, he’s spent some four decades locked away, then came back for a short period of time to a world he can barely understand, only to be put to sleep and experimented on some more for a couple of years. People don’t really expect him to follow the news at this point, and they’re not wrong in their assumption – he rarely ever gives a shit.

But he remembers how she’d given him an update of the world’s dire state when he’d first gotten to the clinic. She’d mentioned a virus – one designed to kill any supes. The plan was to wipe everyone out. Biological warfare, they’d called it. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Ben. He’d seen this all before. Hell, he’d even helped with some of those things back in his glory days.

The virus had been one more reason, one more need for the cure. It had been the perfect deal: If you can’t kill ‘em, cure ‘em. But once that infectious little vial was opened, well, it had been hard to put the genie back inside.

The cure acted as both a vaccine and a remedy against the virus. Soon, the pesky little thing was pushed back but was never quite eradicated. It had eventually slowed its progression but never became any less deadly.

Now, instead of quick and painless, there was agonizing and torturous.

But Y/N can’t take the cure. He might as well kill her this second out of mercy.

When she woke up from her beauty sleep this morning, she admittedly looked better. She said she felt better. Ben still didn’t believe her. She barely touched her food, picked at her breakfast, and ended up only eating the leftover crusts of their son’s toast. He watched her from his periphery as he nursed his coffee in the kitchen, stoically worrying more.

Y/N coughs once more next to him as they pass the frozen food aisle. Ben eyes her cautiously. She’s done it all morning. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help her or how to stop it. Not even the blue vial could help him fix it. He doesn’t even know if it’s real yet. Is it normal? Is he overreacting?

She coughs again. He shakes his head and bites his tongue.

“You okay?” he checks gruffly, his voice thick with tension and concern, but he already expects her answer.

But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

She coughs again into a used tissue, which she has stored in her pocket since last night. Her tongue tastes something metallic – copper and iron. And when her eyes land on the white cloth, they notice spots of a deep, scarlet red.

She stops walking then and swallows thickly, her hands trembling as her eyes transfix on the blood. Ben halts as well when he realizes she’s not moving. He sees the panic in her face, sees she’s a lot paler now than the night before. Her skin looks clammy, her eyes red, weary, and dazed as if she had just taken a hard hit from one of his blunts.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks and steps closer. He cocks his head at her, the creases of his brow now harsh lines. She seems out of it, confused. She doesn’t even seem to understand his question, let alone be capable of answering.

Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she only inhales shakily like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take. Ben barely reaches her fast enough when her eyes roll back into her head till there’s only shining white and her knees begin to buckle.

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the linoleum. He shooed away a group of concerned strangers that had gathered around them, assuring them that his wife was fine and just experiencing a minor dizzy spell. He sold it with a humorous eye roll and chuckled the word “women” before grabbing the kid and carrying her quickly out of the store and into the car. If she hadn’t been out cold, he’s certain he would’ve heard several objections to that comment.

Ben knows he can’t take her to a hospital, however. No one knows she’s a supe, and these days, they don’t receive the best treatment – too many bridges burnt after Homelander’s reign of terror. People have become angry, fearful, and distrustful.

Again, he feels a little responsible. He’s sure Soldier Boy had laid some groundwork for that, too.

Softly, the door to their bedroom clicks shut, her phone in his hand as he searches her contacts. His shoulders tense as he reaches the one he needs. His jaw tightens as he holds it to his ear and waits for an answer.

“Hey, I figured you’d call. Already fed up with the wrinkly dick and coming back?” Victoria Neuman’s voice sounds through the speaker, causing Ben’s hair to stand up on its ends.

Chalk on fucking board, he thinks and bites the anger back. He hates talking to that bitch, hates being nice, and hates asking for favors. But he swallows the acrimony down for the sake of his wife.

“It’s me,” Ben grits and feels his jaw beginning to ache. Why the fuck does everything hurt all the time? It’s something he figures he’ll never get used to – every time his back cracks and creaks in the mornings.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me she’s not locked up in your basement before I make a few calls and let hellfire rain down on you, you decrepit piece of antiquity,” she bites her threat, but Ben can hear the concern in her voice, although he doesn’t give it too much weight. She’s probably faking it like her orgasms.

“Look, I wouldn’t fucking call if it wasn’t serious, you cunt,” Ben snaps and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the surge of fury and impatience out of his temples.

His admission causes a beat of silence on the other end. “What’s going on?” Neuman then finally asks and swallows down her own snarky remarks.

Ben licks his chapped lips before pushing the words out. “She’s-… she’s sick.”

There’s another long pause. “She can’t be sick. She’s a supe.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

They both sigh (and both hate that they have something in common).

“I-… I have the cure,” Ben says and bites down on his tongue immediately after. He doesn’t want to show her all his cards.

“You can’t give it to her. It’s going to kill her,” Victoria reminds him firmly.

“The fucking virus is gonna kill her too, right?” Ben’s eyes drop to the floorboards that hold the solution to all his problems underneath.

“Yeah, it is,” Victoria admits. “What are her symptoms? You sure she’s not just pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not.” There’s a sentence he never expected to say. But– “I haven’t fucking cum inside of her for months.”

“Charming,” Neuman retorts on the other end.

“Wait, do you fucking know something? Did she cheat on me?” The grip around the phone in his hand tightens. Was that why she forgave him so fast and said she believed him?

“Unfortunately, no,” Victoria replies with obvious disappointment. Ben refrains from releasing the sigh of relief he feels. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get her cockdrunk on someone else…”

If Ben still had super-strength, he would’ve crushed the goddamn phone in his hand. Instead of exploding, he closes his eyes and takes a deep fucking breath, though. Ten… nine… eight… Where’s your happy place?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? What do you want?” Victoria’s voice snaps him out of his fatal fantasies of tearing her limbs off one by one.

“What d’you got in your labs? You gotta have a new cure, a new sample, fucking something,” Ben says but doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s grasping at straws, hoping to stumble upon an answer.

“If they’d found something, I would’ve already given it to her,” Neuman says.

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben doesn’t believe a drop of what she’s tellimg him.

“Yes,” Victoria still insists. “Look, before you give it to her, I’ll ask around, make a few calls, okay? See if there’s any possibilities to stop this.”

Ben’s hands tremble, his jaw quivers as he desperately tries to steady himself. “Thank you, fucking hurry,” he forces out in a murmur and immediately hangs up.

Y/N stretches with a grumbling sigh as his hand gently caresses her head. He presses his lips to her burning temple, her weary eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, my love,” Ben says, his deep voice soft as if he’s singing her a lullaby. “How are you feeling?”

She yawns and fights back the sleep in her eyes. “Still tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours,” he tells her and watches as she curls into the couch cushions with a coughing fit. He lowers down to the carpeted floor, stroking her back till she strenuously takes a breath again. “I think we need to talk about it now.”

Slowly, she meets his gaze, and he sees the fear shimmering in her eyes behind a thin veil of tears. She knows what this is, what her body is fighting, and Ben wonders how long she’s known without saying anything. He guesses she knew right from the start. Sometimes, he forgets he likes to pretend she isn’t really smarter than him.

But then, the fear morphs to determination. She nods, swallowing. “The gun’s in the safe in the closet.”

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?”

“Shoot me.”

Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner.

“No.”

The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

“Ben–“

“You fucking listen to me, I’m not fucking killing you. End of discussion,” he snaps furiously. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this angry before – not even when she said they should consider a divorce. Although, this seems to be a different kind of anger – one that cuts deeper.

“Sid shot Nancy,” she says quietly, hoping it appeals to him in some dark, ironic twist.

“She was stabbed, and they could never fucking pin it on him,” Ben shuts her argument down. “Ain’t fucking happening. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna be the last person on my kill list, love.”

She forces a wry but weak smile. “It’d be a mercy killing. Euthanasia.”

“I’m familiar with the fucking concept,” Ben huffs tiredly. His hand then dives into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a small vial that holds yellow liquid.

Her lips part in shock as her eyes fix on the familiar cure in his grasp. “How long have you–“

“Stole it from that black site while you and that Neuman cunt were busy yapping about policies,” Ben explains. “I also took something blue. Figured I could use it at some point.”

“Still wanna be Soldier Boy, huh?” Her voice sounds almost bitter, mocking. A small part of her has always hoped she’d be enough for him someday. That he didn’t need the fame, the money, and the fake heroics. That he’d love himself enough to not rely on a façade.

“No,” he replies to her surprise and watches her straighten a bit on the couch. “I’d fucking do it for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells him firmly, hoping he still remembers her words even when she’s gone.

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I haven’t done it yet?” Ben says with a raised brow and as much patience as he can find within himself. Chats like these aren’t his strong suit.

“So, this is your idea?” She cocks an eyebrow at the vial in his hand, her look pointed. “You don’t wanna kill me quickly, but you’d rather watch me die in fucking slow-motion?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ben argues, the lines on his freckled face hardening again. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

Ironically, she thought the same thing about her husband.

“For who? You?! You can’t be that fucking selfish,” she spits and rises from the couch with a shaking head.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same fucking thing to you,” he returns with the same fire.

She thunders into the bedroom and slams the door shut before he hears her rummaging through the closet. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes once the first expletives bleed through.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” she snaps as soon as the door flies open again.

“Already hid it somewhere you won’t fucking find it,” he answers slyly and purses his lips as she storms past him into the kitchen.

She lets out a deep sigh of frustration when she finds both the knife block and drawers empty. “Seriously? Did you fucking baby-proof the house while I was asleep?!”

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.”

“Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery.

“Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

“You don’t wanna talk to me,” she retorts. “You just wanna fucking pump me full of poison, so you get to feel fucking good about yourself again.”

“You think that’s it? I’m fucking jealous?” He arches a brow and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest, his offense hiding behind amusement.

“Aren’t you?” she bites back.

“It’s me, you asshole,” she snarls.

The look on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. He almost doesn’t recognize her anymore, and he knows reaching any sense of clarity or humanity within her is impossible at this point.

“You sure about that?”

She doesn’t reply, just shakes her head at him and opens the fridge. Her shoulders still for a second, and Ben knows at that moment she’s found something and is thinking of a plan to outfox him.

His gaze swerves to the full beer bottle that has found its way into her hand. She’s quick when she breaks it forcefully against the countertop, the golden-brown liquid splashing onto the floor. But Ben’s faster and bruisingly clutches her wrist, spinning her to face him. Tears sting her eyes as she fights against his hold. Ben knows she’s not using her full strength on him, though, and is almost curious as to why.

He’s not sure Soldier Boy would’ve shown the same hesitant restraint, even if it had been her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me fucking go,” she grits through her teeth.

Ben only shakes his head, his gaze on her stern as he tightens his grip around her wrist.

“You want me to fucking melt you into a puddle?” she threatens.

“Fucking do it,” he challenges her defiantly without a blink of a single eye. “If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to step over my fucking body first, ‘cause there’s no way I’m letting this hand go unless you drop that fucking bottle. What’s it gonna be?”

Her nostrils flare in sync with the heavy rising and falling of her chest, her glare deadly. Slowly and mutinously, she opens each finger till the bottle crashes to the floor and shatters into sharp daggers at their feet. As soon as his grasp on her loosens, she breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, holds her closer, and nuzzles his face into her hair. “I know. It’s okay, sweetheart…”

“I’m fucking scared, Ben,” she cries, and he swallows the thick lump in his throat and forces his own tears back into his skull.

“I know, I know…” He cradles her head, resting his chin on her crown. “You know, admittedly, I’m-… I’m a little scared, too.”

She peels from his chest and meets his forest green eyes, amusement dancing on her lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re not a cold-hearted psychopath.”

Ben curls his lips, cheeks reddening. This is what he gets for opening up. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. Be a strong front.”

She rolls her eyes back dramatically and groans into his shirt. “You know, it doesn’t make you less of a man for feeling things.” She teasingly grins up at him. “In fact, I think only guys with the biggest dicks can pull it off.”

His lips tug at a smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

She locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself to his height for a scorching kiss. And Ben can’t fight the feeling this is meant to be their last one.

“Don’t get weird when I’m gone, okay?” she tells him then, and it feels like the beginning of a list of last wishes. “No reverting back to full asshole. No blue shit.”

“Christ, you’re not fucking dying,” Ben replies, his deep voice calm but firm.

“Ben, denial will only make it worse,” she says, her heart cracking at the forlorn look on his face. “You can’t fix this. There’s nothing you can do. It’s okay.”

Ben shakes his head wordlessly, and she knows the conversation is about to be over. There really isn’t more she can do, either.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You need some rest,” Ben says and already scoops her into his arms before she can respond.

Y/N’s head rests on his broad and bare chest as he holds her tightly in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact seems to soothe her, which is good because he plans to never let her go. If he just keeps her here right next to him, she’ll be fine. She won’t leave him.

She’s talked some when she wasn’t out like a light, but Ben could tell her mind was getting hazy. She talked about her parents and her childhood, something she rarely ever does.

They had never really talked a lot about their respective pasts altogether. They’d covered the basics, but what actually happened didn’t matter as much. They knew they’d both done things they weren’t proud of. But the point of their relationship had always been a clean slate – a fresh start.

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time.

Not hers.

She snores softly in his arms. Her heartbeat is faint, her breathing shallow. An hour ago, it used to be labored, each breath a struggle. She’s so hot he’s afraid she’ll melt in his embrace. He knows she doesn’t have long anymore. He’s running out of time.

Carefully, he stretches his arm to reach for the glistening yellow vial on the nightstand. He pops the lid open and stabs the syringe through the top, drawing it to the brim.

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his green eyes. What if he makes it worse? More painful? What if he kills her?

Victoria’s words ring in his ears. There’s a chance the virus accepts the cure. A loophole, if you will. The cure’s deadly for two-timers, but if they were also infected with the virus, the cure could piggyback on that. One in eighty rats had survived the ordeal before they stopped the trials. Ben didn’t understand the rest of the scientific mumbo-jumbo, but he knows those aren’t great odds.

Still, it’s something.

Ben doesn’t have the luxury to be picky about solutions, though. What he thought were minutes turn to seconds once her breathing stops entirely.

He rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt she’s wearing, one of his, and looks for a good angle on her forearm, just below the elbow. He’s not a doctor, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or where it should go best, but that one time he did heroin in the 80s, he’d put it exactly there, and it had been fine.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

One rough prick through her steeled skin, and the needle is in. He empties the liquid in one swift motion before discarding the used syringe back on the nightstand. He cautiously slides out from underneath her then and ensures she’s lying comfortably on the mattress. He doesn’t want to leave her side, but he knows her powers might short-circuit soon.

Ben remembers the stories from other supes at the rehab clinic – the agonizing pain, the feeling of puking your organs out before the rest follows. Flickers of his own process trickle into his mind. He can’t remember most of it, but he remembers how they’d locked him up in a nuclear-proof prison at some point during the procedure.

For now, he prefers not die by a rain of acid if he gets to pick.

His hand gently caresses her head. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. She might not, and he may have been too late. All for nothing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers and takes her hand in his. It feels cold and lifeless, but he still tries. He’s not ready to let go yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be. “I know you can beat this shit like everything else. We’re this fucking close. Just a little more…”

And then, there’s a flicker of something – a weak tap of a finger against his palm. There’s movement behind her eyelids and a twitch of her brows.

“Sweetheart?”

There’s a groan, her hands gripping a fistful of bedsheets as she coils into the mattress, muscles contorting. He gently rubs her back, trying to help her as the pain tears through her.

“Hey, hey, you’re good. You’re alright,” he soothes and feels the guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hates that he did this to her, but he did it for love. The knowledge barely makes it better, however.

“Oh, fuck, Ben!”

She usually screams those exact words for different reasons, and Ben notes the soft tones of annoyance and anger that are lacing her voice.

“Did you give me the fucking cure?!”

Ben draws his lips into tight line and nods. Admittedly, she might not have fully consented to the procedure. But he prefers her furious with him for the rest of her life over dead. Besides, he’s her husband – shouldn’t the decision be his? Like pulling the plug? That’s a thing, right?

“Motherfucking–“

She bites down on her tongue and swallows her curses with some blood as another surge of pain takes control of her body. Her fingernails claw at her forearms as if she’s trying to scratch it out of her system. If Ben could compare it to anything, he’d probably go with a demon exorcism.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

Y/N groans in loud exhaustion, and Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the pain or a little bit because of him, too.

“Ben, you need to fucking leave,” she presses through her lips, her stern gaze finding his.

He can tell by her look that she’s not saying it out of anger. She’s not saying it because she doesn’t want him to stay and never see him again. She says it because she’s trying to save his life.

Again. The fourth time.

Her name falls from his lips, but she shakes her head as she stumbles out of bed and pushes past him towards the bathroom.

“Leave,” she tells him with more urgency. “Close the door. Go now.”

Ben stills with a hand on the doorknob and looks at her. He can’t leave her like this, can he?

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Please go,” she says as if she can read his mind, steadying herself against the cool wall. She can feel it everywhere, trying to escape her body.

His breaths are ragged, his heart is hammering against his ribs. “I fucking love you,” he says through the sting of tears in his eyes. He says it like it’s the last time he gets to say it while she can still hear him.

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’

And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

Part 3: Lovestruck – TOMORROW 💕

Ah yes the waiting game 😂🫶 Are you excited for the finale aka the happy end tomorrow? After this, they truly deserve it haha

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andvys · 2 months ago

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Secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought)E.M.

⭐︎ Warnings: 18+, mdni! idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers, smut smut smut, lots of pining, mentions of unrequited feelings (they're not), slight angst, unprotected sex, breeding kink? kinda. alcohol and weed consumption. high sex?

⭐︎ Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 20.4k

⭐︎ Summary: A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

⭐︎ Author's note: I've been meaning to write a best friends to lovers with Eddie for a while now (especially after writing ikyllatk, if you know you know. this is Cheer and Eddie to me in a different universe hehe). @hellfire--cult and I went feral over this idea and we've been talking about this since foreverrrrr and here we are finally! thank you for inspiring me, love ♡

⭐︎ the library

divider made by @cafekitsune

The sun is beating down on your skin, kissing it with warmth as the cold water from the lake is still clinging to your body, making goosebumps appear as you shiver the slightest bit. Your eyes are closed, a content smile rests on your face, despite the way your blue lips tremble. Birds are chirping all around you, the trees rustle whenever the wind blows, the water splashes when your best friend makes his way out of the lake, cursing a few times when he steps over the sharp rocks on the ground.

You don’t open your eyes just yet but you listen to him moving closer and closer to where you’re laying on the pink towel you threw on the grass earlier. You don’t have to take a look to know that he is staring at you, he always is. Like a weight on your body, his stare always feels like a warm blanket, heating up your insides and making you feel something you shouldn’t.

Eddie’s eyes are roaming your body, your glistening bare skin, the skimpy bikini bottoms that are only held together by the strings on the sides, the little bow coming undone slowly. He kneels down before you, making a gasp fall from your lips when the water from his hair drips on your belly and his cold hands touch your hip, fingers reaching for the strings so he can fix the little bow.

You open your eyes to find him looking down with a smug smile as he plays with the strings on your bottoms, re-tying it for you. Your breath hitches in your throat from the touch of his hand and the closeness of him, if you were to sit up, your noses would bump together but you stay in place, only pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” he chuckles softly, taking his sweet time as his fingertips graze your bare hip, “didn’t mean to get you wet,” he smirks, a look of mischief flashes in his eyes as water continues to drip from his body onto yours.

“Are you sure?” You challenge him the way you always do, blinking at him innocently as you bring your knees up higher and bite your lip, making him gulp and blush instantly.

You always know how to break him.

Eddie is oh so confident and flirty, throwing looks and comments your way that are a little too suggestive for someone who is considered a best friend, but the moment you join in on his game, even if only subtly, he turns into a blushing mess, no longer the confident, cocky guy he wishes to be.

But even when he turns into this, blushing and nervous, you can still feel that one certain energy radiating off him and it makes you squirm, it fills you with curiosity and the urge to cross that invisible line, your deepest desires, the ones that are locked away begging to be released. You never let them, you never even looked or paid attention to what you really wanted or craved. You played his game, you flirted back, you teased him but you never admitted to yourself that there was… something.

“Hm, no,” Eddie murmurs, suggestively. He ties the knot, strongly and then, he hooks his finger around the strap, he pulls it back and lets it snap against your skin, making you jolt in your place, a tiny gasp falling from your lips once more as a bigger smirk appears on his face. His eyes roam your body, he takes you in fully before he leans back and plops down on his own towel, laying down, he places his arm behind his head, closing his eyes to the sun, he lets out a sigh of contentment, acting as though he didn’t just touch you the way best friends normally don’t do. Asshole.

“This is nice, I’m glad we came out here.”

You hum in agreement, taking advantage of the fact that his eyes are closed, you allow yourself to take a closer, better look at the man who had become your best and closest friend. He is attractive, very handsome, you aren’t blind, you never have been but he is your friend, you never allowed yourself to look at him a certain way but lately it’s become harder to stay so… blind, to not let his lingering touches make you weak in the knees, to not let his comments fill you with giddiness, to not feel something when he holds you in his arms, when he plays with your hair or places his hand on your thigh when you’re in his passenger seat.

You don’t know where this sudden change has come from, it’s always been that way with him, from the very beginning, he’s been touchy and affectionate with you but it didn’t always make you so excited, it’s been a recent development, something that Nancy and Robin teased you about, they saw your reactions whenever he kissed your cheek and called you pet names, whenever he walked into a room only smiling the moment his eyes would meet yours.

You never noticed it before, the feelings he left you with after all his sweet gestures and touches, only when your friends had brought it up to you, leaving you a blushing and a confused mess, did you start to open your eyes… a little, and suddenly things started to change, your reactions to his comments, no matter if they are flirty or sweet, your reactions to his lingering touches, the way his fingers would play with yours, the way they would drum against your skin, so very close to the hem of your skirt or your shirt, the way he would tuck your hair behind your ear or wipe the foam off your upper lip after taking the first sip of your morning latte before taking his thumb into his mouth and licking it off, moaning while doing so – what was normal before, suddenly wasn’t anymore, everything he did, everything he does now drives you crazy and leaves you yearning for more but you never dared to be the one to take another step forward, to cross that daring line, to make the first real move.

He is still Eddie, your best friend, your soulmate, the person you don’t want to lose, especially over something like this, over reading into something that might not be there, over losing control of your own feelings. After all, this could all just be a part of… him. Maybe it’s just who he is, affectionate, teasing, flirty, daring. Maybe he is like that with everybody, not just you.

But maybe not, maybe you are the only one and maybe, just maybe he is waiting for you to be the one to make another move, to take another step, maybe he has been waiting, maybe he has been waiting for a while now.

You bite your lips so hard, you almost rip the skin open, your eyes are glued to his form, to the way his chest rises up and down, his wet hair a mess around him, lashes fluttering as his eyes are squeezed shut, your fingers itch to touch the ink on his pale skin, you lick your lips as your eyes follow his happy trail, mouth watering at the way his swim trunks are so low on his hips, his bulge so… god, you need to stop – but how can you? Your best friend is just so pretty. And his hands are so big, fingers so long and you have felt them on your skin before but you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t think about them in other places.

Your cheeks heat up at your own thoughts, though it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming some more and the longer you do, the more you start to lose yourself in them, wondering about all the different what if’s, wondering what would happen if you just made the move your friends have begged you to make, to be more daring, to be more teasing, to break him enough for him to do something you both clearly want.

A bravery you don’t usually have, surges through your body, taking over completely. The urge to tease him back the way he teases you is so strong, so before you chicken out, before you think too much and too long, you reach behind you, undoing the bow he tied on your bikini top, you turn away from him and take the skimpy black thing off, throwing it down next to you, the cool breeze kisses your skin and if Eddie opened his eyes right now, he’d be met with the sight of your bare chest.

You press your lips together and turn around, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you lay down on your stomach, stretching your arms out and letting out a sigh of contentment. You turn your head into his direction but close your eyes, even though you’re dying to see his reaction to you being topless but you are trying to play it cool, like it’s nothing.

Eddie peeks one eye open after listening to all your movement and he almost chokes on his spit when he does, jaw falling slack, both eyes shoot open as he takes in the sight of you, of the skin that wasn’t bare only seconds ago – how, when, what?

He blinks, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted as he is gawking at you, at the way your boobs are pressed against the towel beneath you, at the softness of your skin, at the single drops of water still clinging to your body that he wants to touch oh so badly, your hair looks so shiny and soft, your face so content as you lay half naked next to him.

Eddie’s cheeks heat up when he realizes that he would have seen you bare if only he opened his eyes a few seconds sooner. He licks his lips, nearly drooling over the sight of you. Suddenly, his trunks feel tighter than before when his mind takes him to places he only reserves for late nights when he is all alone and not afraid to risk to pop a boner.

He tries to look away, he really does but he can’t, not when you look this hot. He allows his eyes to roam again and it only makes his case worse, his breathing quickens, his skin heats up, his hands itch to touch your soft skin, his lips long to trail kisses down your body, to have a little taste of you.

If you were his, he would, he would start on your neck and he would kiss down to your shoulder and then your back, and he’d take it lower and lower until his lips would reach those skimpy panties, he’d take them off and taste you the way he always dreamed of, he’d lick a stripe up your pussy, suck on your clit, eat you out like the starved man that he is and he would get lost in your moans and your whines, in the pleasure that only he could make you feel.

Eddie clears his throat, he nearly curses when he feels his dick twitching in need of you. He clenches his jaw, even more so when he sees your lips twitching into a smirk. Oh… Oh.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, his breath halting for a moment when he realizes what you did, you did this on purpose, you aimed to tease him.

It’s not exactly something new, you being a tease but you have never taken things this far, you have never stepped up to his level.

But now that you did… he can take things further as well, right?

If you decide to tease him like this, then he will tease right back.

He pushes himself up, adjusting his trunks, he nearly lets out a groan when you wiggle your butt a little, pretending to get more comfortable.

He bites his lip as he looks around in search for the sunscreen you have brought with you, he finds the bottle peeking out of your bag. He presses his palm on the grass beneath him, leaning over your body to reach for the yellow bottle.

“What’re you doing, Eds?” You murmur, rather seductively

A smirk tugs at Eddie’s lips, the tone in your voice tells him that you believe you are in charge here and… maybe you are, right now, but he won’t let you win so easily.

He chuckles lowly when a gasp tears from your pretty lips after he squirts the cold cream on your back.

“Don’t want you to get burned, sweetheart,” he whispers, closing the cap of the bottle, he throws it on the ground before he lays his palms flat against your hot skin, spreading the white cream all over your back.

You grow flustered and you start blushing, your breathing gets heavier and you visibly gulp when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your skin. You suck in a sharp breath when his hands move up to your shoulders, gripping you there for a moment before he moves back down, the coldness of his rings making you shudder a little.

Eddie can’t even hide the smug look on his face after feeling your reaction, pride swelling in his chest when you sigh so beautifully because of his touch.

You easily get lost in this, eyelashes fluttering, soft breaths and sighs falling from your lips as his strong hands move up and down your skin, touching you in ways that make you squirm beneath him.

“Feels good,” you whisper as you arch your back a little, not knowing that just a small movement like this is enough to drive him insane, once again.

“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, he swallows harshly.

“What was that?” You ask, not hiding the smugness in your voice, very well.

“Nothing,” he lies, “nothing, sweets.”

“You sure?”

He hums, shaking his head at your teasing, at the way you think that you will win the game that he started.

Eddie moves his hands down to your sides, making sure to get the cream everywhere, so you won’t get burned, of course. His fingers dip dangerously low to the side of your boobs, and while it was only meant to tease you, to get a reaction out of you, he realizes that it was a mistake, only a little too late – it only makes his case worse when he feels just how soft and smooth your skin is that is usually hidden under all your clothes, when he feels himself craving to touch a little lower, to feel more of you, to make you feel–

“Mmmh.”

Eddie freezes, hands halting at your sides, his big brown eyes widen and his lips part once again, he stares at the back of your head, stunned.

You moaned at his touch, whimpered even, making those butterflies in his stomach feel stronger than ever.

“Why’d you stop?” You mumble, wiggling your butt as though to tell him to keep going.

Do you even know the power you hold over him?

Do you even understand what you do to him?

Eddie bites his lip, he bites hard, hard enough to taste iron. He sucks in a sharp breath, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his mouth when he adjusts behind you, the rough material of his swim trunks rubbing against his dick. He is fucking rock hard and if you only turned around to take a look at him, you would see it.

“I’m sorry, got a little distracted,” he says lowly, voice getting a little shaky.

He feels so hot, and it’s not the sun that is making him sweat, it’s all you.

He can see the way your lip twitches, the way your dimple shows when you smirk at his words.

“Oh? By what, the birds?” You giggle.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your question even though your eyes are still closed. He takes a moment to look at your surroundings, at the beautiful scenery, the trees and the big lake in front of Steve’s cabin – well, his parents cabin.

God, he wonders where this weekend will take him, you and him.

A weekend you were both supposed to spend with your friends, turned into this. Just you and him, and no one else.

It’s only day one, and you are already close to making him cum in his swim trunks, like some pathetic teenage boy who couldn’t handle his crush’s teasing or touching.

This will either be the best weekend of his life, or this might kill him – if you are only teasing, then this will surely kill him but if you are not, then he owes your friends a lot, for pretending to be sick or busy. He knows that they were lying when Robin fake coughed on the phone after telling him that she couldn’t make it, that she and Steve couldn’t make it, cause he got sick too… apparently.

And Nancy forgot that she promised to help her mom with something, and if Nancy couldn’t come, then Jonathan couldn’t either of course – which led to Argyle staying back as well, cause where would he ever go without his best buddy?

Eddie looks back down at you, at his best friend, who is laying half naked before him so comfortably, teasing him so freely. Another sigh escapes your lips and you squirm beneath him once again.

Yeah, no matter how this will end, you will be the death of him.

“Yeah, the birds,” he mumbles, snorting at his own words.

He leans down closer to you, squeezing your sides which makes you jolt a little, a giggle falling from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the sweet sound, “I forgot how ticklish you are,” he teases, as if.

“Mhmm sure you did, Eddie.”

With a mischievous smile, he decides to take his teasing further, playfully digging his fingers into your waist, he begins to tickle you, making you yelp and jolt in surprise as you start squirming beneath his touch, giggles now falling freely from your mouth as his name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, awakening those butterflies in his stomach. God, he wishes he could make you call out his name in different ways.

You jump up, with your arms covering your front, one hand pressing against your boobs, hiding only just a little as you turn to face your best friend. You watch the way his eyes widen as they instantly fall to your chest, lust flashing in them, jaw dropping as his cheeks redden right this second, his expression makes you giggle even harder, even more so when you push him back and he falls onto the grass, flat on his butt, wet curls hanging in front of his hair.

Eddie is so stunned by you, he can barely move as he stares at you, at your half naked form. God, you are so beautiful it hurts.

The afternoon sun begins to turn golden, kissing your glowy skin and all your curves, your hair cascades down your shoulders, your hand that barely hides anything pressing against your boobs, he wishes it was his own. Licking his lips, he pushes himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes roam your body, shamelessly, dreaming about the way he would love to get between those delicious looking thighs of yours, the way he’d kiss every inch of your body, leaving no trace unmarked, the way he would nuzzle his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent, not playfully the way he usually does, but with a trail of kisses that he would leave behind.

He would worship you in ways he can’t even begin to describe. Oh, how often Eddie finds himself up at night, working on yet another song about you, thinking of words that haven’t been created yet, strong enough to describe you.

He feels uncomfortable in his swim trunks that are getting a little too tight, his skin feels on fire, not from the sun but from you. He lusts after you, yes, but there is also more than that, so much more. It isn’t just the lust that makes these feelings so intense, it’s all his deepest feelings for you, feelings that only his notebook filled with song texts know about… and maybe your friends, who aren’t as oblivious as you are.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and you should too,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Eddie clears his throat, watching you get up, not bothering to pick up your top or your dress that you wore earlier, you simply keep your chest hidden by your right arm.

“You’re helping me cook dinner,” you give him a pointed look before you turn around and begin to walk back to the house.

Eddie smiles cheekily as he pushes himself up further, eyes glued to your butt now.

“Are you telling me to get into the shower with you?” He calls after you, unaware of the butterflies that he caused in your stomach now.

You don’t turn around, you keep walking, hiding the flustered expression on your face from him. You flip him off without looking back, biting back your smile when he laughs loudly.

Eddie watches, craning his neck to see more of you, the way your butt jiggles as you skip up the stairs. He bites his lip, groaning at the sight of it.

“Goddamn.”

You will be the death of him.

It’s dark outside by the time Eddie comes out of the steamy bathroom, the cabin is mostly dark too, candles illuminate the living room and the sound of music fills the space. A smile lingers on his face as he makes his way down the hallway, his wet curls bouncing with each step that he takes, he throws on a clean shirt, his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips.

A groan almost falls from his lips when he walks into the kitchen to you standing there in nothing but one of his shirts, now that sight is nothing new to him but it never fails to take his breath away, though usually you have on more than just the shirt. Your bare legs are glowy beneath the dim lights, from hours in the sun and that delicious smelling cream you always put on your skin after showering, you sway your hips to the music, shirt riding up in the process. Eddie can’t help but wonder if you are wearing any panties at all beneath his shirt. Fuck. He shouldn’t let his mind go there, you have done enough teasing for the day, he almost jerked off in the shower and maybe he should have, maybe that would have released some of the tension in him but he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet, he never is.

God, this really will be a long weekend filled with torture and teasing. He knows he should probably stop playing this dangerous game but he just can’t help but play into it.

He slowly makes his way to you, you’re humming to the music, knife held in your hand as you cut up vegetables, an opened bottle of beer on the counter before you, your damp hair is braided loosely, falling down your back. He can smell your body wash from here, the sweetness of it – of you is so intoxicating to him, he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you into him and bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhale your scent and kissing your soft skin, he craves it so very badly, even more so, he craves for it to be something normal.

Eddie wants you to be more than just his best friend.

Everybody knows it, everybody but you.

And maybe it’s better this way, maybe he would lose you if you did find out.

You might be a tease, you might let him touch you in ways no one else is allowed to, you might give him hope sometimes, the hope that you could feel more than just something platonic for him but at the end of the day you are still best friends and he can’t lose that, especially not because he can’t control his feelings.

Because what happens when you do find out and you don’t feel the same?

What happens then?

What happens if it drives you away?

What happens if he loses you?

And he can’t allow that to happen, he can’t lose you, not you, anyone but you.

Eddie knows he should do himself a favor and stop being so touchy and affectionate with you, it does him no good, if anything, it makes him want you even more but he can’t help it, he has to take what he can get… right?

He comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, he breathes in your sweetness, chuckling when you tense up for a second before a cute giggle falls from your lips.

“You scared me,” you whisper, tilting your head back, you look up at him as you ease into his touch.

“Sorry sweets, didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, teasing you with that pretty smile of his as he snatches a piece of the cucumber you’ve been cutting and bites into it, winking at you as he steps away again and takes a look into the large pot on the stove.

“Pasta?”

“Pasta Arrabiata,” you say, imitating the Italian accent that Steve always makes whenever he is cooking.

Eddie chuckles, “wow that was horrible.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, scrunching your nose at him.

If you knew how his heart flutters at your laughter and at your cute nose scrunches.

“Since when do we put cucumber in pasta?”

The disgusted look on your face makes him laugh again, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you up and down.

“I’m also making a salad, it’s for you, you need to eat more veggies.”

His lips curl into yet another smile, warmth blooms in his chest.

You take care of him, you always do. From making sure that he eats enough when he gets a little too lost in writing songs or working on campaigns to making sure that he wears a hat and a scarf when it’s cold outside, whether it’s something small or big, you are always there to look after him, you’ve always been there.

“Alright, I’m eating the greens just for you, sweets.”

He licks his lips as he eyes every inch of your exposed skin, tracing your soft features with the longing look in his brown eyes. The way his shirt looks on your body, the way your hair falls in front of your eyes despite you tucking it behind your ear just moments ago, the way you bite your lower up as you give him a disapproving look.

“No,” you shake your head, pointing your knife at him, “you gotta eat them for yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” He smirks, closing the gap between you both again, you instantly lower the knife and place it on the counter.

You shrug, teasing him with a sweet smile, “what if I am?”

Eddie licks his lips, inching closer and closer to you, a smile tugs at his mouth, he hums as he raises his hand up to your face, combing his fingers through your wet hair before he tucks the fallen pieces behind your ear again.

He is unaware of the effect he has on you, of the fluttering in your chest, of the burning in your skin, of the shaky breaths you suck in.

“Then I think that’s really hot,” he winks at you as he moves his hand down your neck and then your shoulder, sliding it down along your spine, lower and lower until he’s holding your hip and pressing himself against you as he moves onto your other side, slower than necessary.

Your lips part in surprise, every trace that he has touched starts to burn, your knees grow weak and your heart starts beating faster – how much longer can you deny the emotions he causes inside you?

“So, how can I help?”

He is teasing you, you can hear it in his voice, and you don’t have to turn around to face him to know that there is a smirk on his face.

“Set the table, pick a movie to watch later, dinner is almost ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs into your ear before he walks away without another word, giving you a moment to take a few deep breaths.

You take a sip of your cold beer, closing your eyes for a moment, you listen to your beating heart, you feel the goosebumps on your skin, you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks, the weakness you feel for your best friend.

How much longer can you deny what is really inside of you, that it’s not just physical attraction?

Your heart flutters when his deep voice sounds through the dining room as he sings along to the music, your lips curl into an adoring smile. You can hear him rummaging through the drawers, trying to find the table cloth you assume.

Picking up the knife again, you continue chopping your vegetables, finishing up on your salad, though you quickly get lost in this… domestic energy you both have created. It feels so warm, so safe, so familiar. A feeling you can’t imagine sharing with anyone other than your Eddie.

He comes back into the kitchen, humming, he grabs two plates and cutlery and places them on the counter before he passes by you, without a teasing smile or comment, he places his hand on your lower back, he reaches over your shoulder to retrieve two wine glasses from the shelf and steps away again, leaving the kitchen once more.

It all feels so natural, so normal and yet, it makes you struggle to breathe because the butterflies in your stomach go wild – just the way they always do, but now it becomes harder and harder to not pay attention to them.

You take another deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, to push aside your feelings, to keep doing what you did before… be unaware of what is buried deep within your heart. So, you move along and distract yourself with finishing cooking dinner, not allowing your mind to take you further into this pit of hell as you call it, because that’s what love and feelings are, hell.

There is no good in love, there is no peace in having feelings.

It’s a rollercoaster ride that ends no matter how long it lasts, pleasant or not, it ends.

And you refuse to let feelings get in the way of yours and Eddie’s friendship, he means too much to you to risk taking a step further into something that your stupid heart desires, you love him too much to let your lingering feelings ruin what you both have, besides… who is to say that he could feel something for you?

You are his best friend and he is yours, that’s all you’ve ever been and it’s all you’ll ever be, best friends, nothing more or less, best friends who are affectionate with one another, who tease each other, who sleep in each other’s arms and do things that other best friend’s might not do… Though when you step into the dining room with the heavy pot in your hands, you halt in your tracks, freezing at the sight before you.

The table is set but not like usual, it makes you struggle to keep pushing away those feelings that have been sneaking their way to the surface because why did he place the plates so close to each other when the table is so big? And why did he place candles on the table and light them up instead of keeping the lights on? And why did he change the channel on the radio? Why is slow music playing instead of the rock channel he usually settles for when there is no better option for him?

You can handle his teasing, you can handle his touching, his flirting, his suggestive comments and looks he gives you so often.

But this is something else, this is something that would have normally made you run, a table set up so romantically, a dinner that seems to become something intimate. Yeah, if someone else had set this up, you would’ve definitely ran, you would’ve felt anxious, suffocated.

Those feelings don’t exist with him though, it’s quite the opposite, even with the lingering fear inside of you for what you feel for him. You feel giddy.

“Picked the movie, sweets,” Eddie calls from the living room, snapping you out of your troubled thoughts. He enters the room with a grin on his face.

You clear your throat and finally take the final steps to the table, putting down the pot in the middle, you glance at your best friend.

“Yeah? What’d you pick?”

“Something neither of us have seen yet,” he winks at you, moving closer and closer until he is right in front of you again. He grabs the chair and pulls it back, gazing down at you with his dark eyes, “sit.”

“I gotta get the rest of the food–”

“I’ll get it, now sit down, princess,” he murmurs.

Whenever his voice gets so low, your knees feel like they’ll buckle at any moment, shivers run down your spine and your cheeks grow hot.

“Alright,” you chuckle, plopping down on the wooden chair, you gaze up at your best friend, batting your eyelashes at him.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, there is not much you have to do to drive him crazy.

“Smells really good in here,” he comments, the mouth watering smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread makes his stomach growl.

“Thanks Eds, now get the rest of the food before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks at you, squeezing your shoulder before he turns around and makes his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath when he’s gone, rolling your shoulders and trying to calm your nerves, your heart is racing and it makes you feel ridiculous. You are here with Eddie, your best friend, Eddie. You got nothing to feel nervous about, you’ve been here plenty of times before, at dinner alone with him… though, it was never like this, you never had candle light dinners with slow music playing in the back. And his touches, his smiles, his voice never drove you this crazy before, he never made your heart flutter, his hands never made your skin feel hot, he never made you feel like you’d fall to the ground because your knees felt like jelly, he never made you feel those things before until recently… or did he?

“I’m starving,” Eddie says dramatically as he places the salad bowl and the garlic bread on the table. Before he takes a seat, he opens the wine bottle and reaches for your glass, he glances at you as he starts pouring it in your glass, he notices your flushed cheeks and how fidgety you are in your seat as you eye him up and down, it makes his heart flutter.

“We can’t have that,” you chuckle, reaching for his plate, you start filling it with salad first to which he protests, claiming that it will only make him starve even more. “You need some healthy food!”

“Not too much of it though,” he shakes his head as he lifts the lid of the pot, inhaling with a smile on his face, “I need that.”

Your giggle makes his smile widen.

“Alright.”

“You know I love your pasta,” he grins as he watches you fill the plate.

“That’s Steve’s pasta,” you chuckle.

“Nah, that’s his recipe, you cooked it,” he retorts, tilting his head to the side, “besides, you do it better.”

Warmth fills your chest and your cheeks, your smile gets even bigger now.

“Don’t tell him that! He’ll be distraught!”

“Don’t worry, it’s our secret,” he mumbles with a grin on his face as he finally takes the seat across from you, taking the plate from your hands when you hand it to him with a soft ‘thank you’.

He waits for you to fill your own plate before he picks up the fork or even takes a sip of the wine you picked when you went grocery shopping together this morning. He leans back and takes a look around, your surroundings are so different than usual, so unlike the small apartment he recently moved into where you eat your dinners at his tiny kitchen table. He appreciates the home cooked meals you always bless him with and the way you always want to take care of him, it makes him feel warm, it makes him feel safe.

Eddie wants to do the same for you, he wants to make you feel the way you make him feel but he believes that he can’t measure up, that he can’t give you what you give him, that he can’t provide you the same feeling of safety or warmth and maybe that is the sole reason why he hasn’t made a move on you yet, not because he is scared of ruining your friendship – god, he wants to ruin it so bad. But because you deserve more than he can give you, you deserve this, a big house with a stupid fireplace, a big garden, stability, someone who can take care of you, someone who can give you more than a small, shitty apartment, someone who can give you more than just the flowers he gives you or the pastries he brings you when you’re taking your lunch breaks at work.

Yeah, your friendship is very precious to him, he is scared of losing you, every goddamn day he wonders if this will be the day where you don’t show up for him but it isn’t the reason for his lack of effort in fighting for what he actually wants, it’s the fact that he believes that you deserve better than him, someone less like him, someone more like… Steve.

So he settles for loving you from afar, he tries to spoil you, he tries as best as he can. He teases you whenever he gets the chance to, he becomes giddy when you react to it, when you blush and giggle or even tease him back the way you did today, it sparks something in him, maybe it’s confidence or maybe just an illusion that you could feel the same, whatever it is, he basks in the feeling in those moments.

His eyes soften and the beating of his heart becomes stronger as he watches you, the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, the way your beautiful eyes shine in the dim light, the light flush in your cheeks making you look so damn cute, the way your smile only widens when you glance at him, a small huff falling from your mouth.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, putting down your plate before you.

You.

He always looks at you.

Eddie knows he won’t have this forever, someday you will meet someone who will give you everything that he wishes he could, someday he won’t be the one sitting across from you enjoying your dinner, someday he won’t be the one in your life.

“At your shirt, is it new… or?” He teases, acting like he didn’t just get lost in his head, thinking of your future that he might not be a part of.

You look down at his shirt, smiling proudly, you stole it from him the last time you stayed over, “mhm got it from this store called the drawer.”

Eddie snorts, though he adores the look on your face, “you’re so lame, the drawer? Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, picking up the fork you start eating happily.

“Who sold it to you?” Eddie asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Oh, this uh… really handsome guy, said he’s in a band, corroded coffin?” You raise your brow, pretending to think. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Eddie’s stomach flips in excitement at the compliment. You’ve called him handsome plenty of times before, but it never fails to make him blush.

“Damn, he sounds really cool,” Eddie says, laughing.

You nod, a serious and adoring look now flashing in your features, no hint of amusement behind those eyes, no teasing, just pure adoration for him, “he is, he is the coolest actually.”

He gets flustered easily when he’s with you but when you look at him like this, with that sweet smile and those soft eyes, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to say or how to act, so he hides his face by looking down at the delicious food in front of him, a sheepish smile resting on his face, one that makes your own even bigger. He finally takes a bite of the pasta and his eyes instantly close as he moans at the taste of it, making you giggle yet again.

“Fuck me, yeah I’m sorry sweets, but I ain’t letting you get married, you’re stuck with me,” he jokes as he takes another bite, completely forgetting about all the anxious thoughts that swirled in his mind just moments ago.

“Oh, you mean I’m stuck being your private chef?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, chewing on the garlic bread slowly, you try to ignore the heat building up in your stomach as you look into his chocolate eyes, waiting for him to say that word.

“Oh, then what would you call it?”

Eddie looks at you through hooded eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his plump lips.

“Housewife.”

A surprised giggle falls from your lips, though your cheeks start burning, especially under his gaze. Something tugs at your chest, something strong, something warm. Housewife. You never craved to be that, you never had such desires. Sure, you always dreamed of finding the one, finding true love, finding someone who will love you the way you can love, the way you always wished to love but that’s it, you never imagined yourself past the dating stage, you never daydreamed of weddings and a husband, you never thought of becoming a wife, a housewife at that but… when you think of yourself as that with Eddie by your side, with your best friend, with the one who had always been by your side through thick and thin, something in you beats a little stronger.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze to his ringed fingers, you can’t help but let your mind take you to sacred places.

Eddie watches you intensely, eyes lighting up at the flustered state you are suddenly in, a state he only ever sees you in when he teases you with touches, with pick up lines, with his flirtations but never this. There is a little spark in him now, the sparkle of hope.

“Well that would make you my husband.” Your voice is shaky, filled with nerves and something else that he can’t decipher at this moment.

Oh, Eddie would put a ring on your fingers right this second.

He never really planned his future, he never really saw one, especially not one in which he would be happy with a wife and kids by his side but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t want these things with you. You make him crave things that were never even a thought of his before he met you, you make him want to be that for you, a husband.

He doesn’t believe that he can give you what you want, what you need, what you deserve but he knows one thing for sure, if he was given the chance, he would make you so damn happy.

“Would that be so bad?”

You look up again and into his eyes, something in them is different now, something in the way he looks at you is so… intense and raw, there is a softness in them, one stronger than usual.

Would that be bad?

You shake your head before you can even come up with the right words to say, or with words you should say. Something has changed, perhaps a long time ago or just now, but you know one thing for sure, your heart never beat this strongly before and your hands never itched to touch his so badly.

You know the truth is hidden behind the walls you have put up, but that wall started crumbling a long time ago, long before you had the chance to even notice.

The energy in the room has shifted into something more… intimate and it’s not the candles or the music, it adds to it, but those aren’t the main reasons, it’s the energy you both have created, it’s the lingering touches, it’s his foot touching yours under the table, not playfully like usual, it’s different, it’s all so different but it’s good. A comfortable silence takes over the room as you continue eating and as the seconds and the minutes pass, and you both sip on your wines, pouring a second glass, you both get a little bolder when the alcohol hits you.

Your hands inch closer and closer to each other, your eye contact becomes a little more intense, making your breathing stutter and your heart skip several beats.

And when he is done with his food, he pushes his plate aside and leans his elbows on the table, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath and then, he brushes his fingertips against your own before he envelopes your hand fully, taking it into his large one.

You can’t describe the feelings rushing through you, he held your hand plenty of times before but until now, you never let yourself feel the rush of it, you never allowed yourself to pay attention to the electric feeling cursing through your veins but you allow it now, slowly… you allow it.

“They’re really missing out, aren’t they?” You speak the first words that come to your mind as you stare into your best friend's beautiful eyes.

Eddie looks around the dining room, shrugging when he looks back at you, his eyes roaming your face, his lips curl into a smile.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it just being the two of us, we never really get the chance to be alone like this.”

You nod in agreement, “that’s true, I like it too,” you murmur before you reach for your glass and take a big sip of wine.

“More wine and weed for us,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes playfully, setting the glass back down, you tilt your head to the side, “speaking of weed, wanna roll us a joint?”

Eddie doesn’t want to let go of your hand just yet but he nods, he could use that relaxation anyways, maybe it will calm his nerves around you before he does something that he might end up regretting later on.

“Yeah, I’m gonna clean this up first.”

You shake your head, “no, I can do it–”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says sternly, glaring at you, “I know I said housewife, I hope you know that doesn’t mean slave.”

You can’t help but giggle at the seriousness on his face or in his voice, “Eddie, I hope you know that that’s exactly what most men think of when they want a housewife.”

He frowns in disgust, scoffing at that, he begrudgingly lets go of your hand and pushes his chair back.

“Well, most men are pigs who don’t even deserve a wife in the first place,” he says, getting up, he glares at you and points at you to stay seated. “You don’t have to do all the work, you cook, I clean up, it’s simple.”

A smile graces your features, you tap the table before you reach for the wine bottle, pouring yourself a third glass, “well then, whatever you say, husband,” you giggle and get up as well, holding your hands up in surrender when he gives you a warning glance, “don’t worry, I won’t lift a finger, I’m gonna grab my wine and wait for you in the living room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he gathers the dirty plates, “sit your pretty ass down.”

You definitely feel the wine in your system now, that fuzzy feeling and the slight dizziness feels so welcoming though.

“Yes, sir.”

Before Eddie can stop his mouth from running, those words tumble out of his mouth just like that.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on your spit and trip over nothing, his words rush right to your core, your cheeks start burning hotter than before.

Good girl.

He called you a good girl, with that raspy, deep voice of his that never fails to make your insides crawl with need, that never fails to ring through your head when you’re in your bed with your hand between your thighs, imagining him and his voice calling you just that.

You don’t know how you manage to keep your composure but you do, only allowing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you continue your way out of the dining room and into the living room, you round the corner and rush to the big couch where he luckily can’t see you, your knees almost buckle before you can even take a seat.

You close your eyes and sigh out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pressing a hand to your chest, you nearly gasp at the beating of your heart.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself.

Eddie will be the death of you, you are sure of it, if not tonight then tomorrow, and if not then, then on the last day of your trip.

The veil that was hiding all your truths was already being lifted when you were still in Hawkins, slowly everything was coming out, all the feelings you were denying, all the things you were so afraid of admitting, you lost control and power a long time ago. The moment Robin opened her eyes to what was there this whole time, the moment she confronted you about your feelings for him was the moment you could no longer hide. The veil is no longer there, it’s long gone and lost with the wind.

You run your fingers through your hair and lean back into the soft cushions, taking a big gulp of the red wine that will surely give you a headache tomorrow morning, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, you begin to curse her out in your head because all your reactions to his words and touches just now only confirmed all her beliefs.

Fuck Robin for saying all that shit to you that changed your feelings and opened your eyes completely, a month ago. Fuck her for telling you that you indeed have feelings for Eddie, for your best friend. Fuck her for making you start realizing it and be self conscious for it. Fuck her for making you feel scared of losing Eddie because of it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, you open your eyes and look around the lightly dimmed room, you take in the sound of Eddie’s voice, of his humming to the music, of the way your heart flutters more and more.

You are so fucked.

You will ruin the friendship, you are sure of it.

If only you knew that this is exactly what he wants.

You keep yourself busy with your wine glass, staring into blank space as you continue letting your thoughts eat at you, letting the insecurities and the doubts creep in, when all you want to do is get lost in the feeling of what he gave to you at the dinner table, just moments ago.

You are so lost in your head, you don’t even notice the music being turned off, you don’t even hear his footsteps or his voice until he is standing right before you after throwing a bunch of different snacks on the coffee table.

“I know the munchies are gonna hit you,” your best friend chuckles as he finally sits down beside you, joint already between his fingers, lighter on the coffee table. He turns to you, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he offers you the joint.

Yeah, maybe this will help, maybe this will relax you enough to get a grip on yourself again, maybe this will stop you from doing something that will make you regret.

Your heart, your body, everything in you seems to be sick of living in denial though because before your mind can kill this moment, you are already moving forward, looking into his eyes, you lean down, closer and closer, you wrap your lips around the joint that is still snug between his fingers.

The widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, snaps you out of whatever had possessed you, though not enough, not even in the slightest.

You raise your brows at him expectedly, waiting for him to light up the joint for you.

The flush in his cheeks, the rosy color taking over his face, his squirming makes satisfaction rush you.

You were teasing him all morning, all afternoon and every time you added one more, you wanted to risk more, but now things just have gotten out of hand, you got lost in your own little game and you let your feelings, your desires take full control of you.

Poor Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself as he looks down at you, if it wasn’t for the alcohol in his system, he would lose all composure and stutter like a little kid around his crush. He manages to reach for the lighter and he never looks away from your pretty eyes or your lips, or the shirt that keeps riding up on your thighs, a little more and more.

He lights the joint and he is surprised when you don’t look away, when your eyes stay locked with his and a satisfied moan escapes you – only worsening his case. You inhale deeply and furrow your eyebrows in concentration, a lazy smile spreads on your kissable lips and you lean back further after blowing out the smoke. You bring your knees up to your chest and hand him the joint. “That’s nice,” you sigh out in pleasure, “I needed that.”

“You’re starting to sound like an addict,” Eddie smirks, hiding his blushing cheeks behind his curls as he takes the joint from your fingers and places it between his lips, unaware of the way you follow his every movement as he gets comfortable beside you, resting his feet on the table, he stretches his arm out and wraps it around the headrest behind you.

“What… movie did you pick out?” You ask him and he doesn’t even notice your stuttering or the way your eyes are glued to his exposed skin as his shirt rides up, exposing his happy trail.

Eddie shrugs, reaching for the remote, he glances at you, “I dunno, one of the movies Steve recommended we should watch.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” He nods and presses play before he throws the remote on the coffee table, “let’s see how good his taste is.”

“You already know he loves the cheesy shit,” you laugh and scoot closer to him with your wine glass still in your hand, you’re searching for his warmth.

“Yeah, he does,” Eddie chuckles.

He lowers his gaze to your thighs, noticing the goosebumps on your skin, he puts the joint into the ashtray and he reaches for the knitted blanket thrown over the couch, he spreads it open and covers your legs with it, “don’t want you freezing, sweets,” he murmurs.

Your eyes soften for him, a smile spreading on your lips. You lean forward and place your wine glass on the coffee table and then you scoot closer to him and throw the blanket over his lap as well before you place your head on his chest, snuggling up against him with a content look on your face… beside the blushing on your cheeks.

Eddie wraps his arm around you without a second thought – this is nothing unusual for you, neither is the hand holding, or the sharing of clothes or the intimate touches but everything you do today, that you usually do as well, feels so different, it makes him nervous, it makes you nervous, it feels like the first time.

And when you place your hand above his heart, he grows anxious that you might feel just how strongly it’s beating for you, he is scared that you will figure out his feelings and that that will make you run, run from him.

“Your heart is racing,” you whisper softly, causing him to tense up a little but when you press your chin against his chest and you gaze up into his eyes, he feels a sense of calmness bleed through him, safety.

Eddie blinks, not knowing what to say without giving away the truth, without giving away just how much he wants to kiss you right now, how much he wants to make you his, how badly he wants to confess and get it off his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Your angelic voice makes him feel weak, the candle light makes you look so soft, your scent makes him feel drunk, his lips yearn to touch yours, his heart screams for you.

God, he really wants to kiss you so bad.

And he wants to kiss you even more when he sees the way your own eyes flicker between his lips, his neck and his eyes. He tightens his hold on you, prompting you to scoot even closer as you lean your warm body into his as your hand slips down to his stomach, your nails grazing the sliver of exposed skin on his stomach, he nearly whimpers at the feeling. You truly know how to drive him crazy.

“Yeah,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile, “everything is perfect.”

Almost perfect.

It would be perfect if he could just grab your face and smash his lips against yours, kissing you breathless.

You bite your lower lip as you keep staring up at him, you look as though you want to say something, your eyebrows pull together whenever you hold something back, whenever you desire to speak up about something – he doesn’t pressure you to talk though, he never does, he gives you time, as always.

His eyelashes flutter, his lips part in surprise when he watches you move closer to him, closer and closer until your lips are pressed against his jaw, you peck him once before you shyly pull away and bury your face in his chest, turning your attention back to the TV right as the movie begins to play and he is glad that you do, because his eyes widen the way they probably never did before and blood rushes to his cheeks, no doubt making him look like a tomato right now, his heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest at any moment.

You were teasing him this morning, you were very clear about that, the smirk and the smugness on your face gave it away every time but you are no longer teasing now, this is different, this is something else, this is something new.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and shakily.

He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, he wonders if you know how he feels for you, he wonders if you know just what he would do for you.

“Pass me the joint?” He whispers, not recognizing his own voice due to how shaky it is.

You do as he asks, pulling away for just a second, you reach for the joint and hand it to him before you settle back comfortably against his chest, pressing your cheek tightly against it.

Despite the nervousness in him, he keeps his arm wrapped around you tightly, and he even takes it a little further, becoming a little bolder, he sneaks his hand under your shirt and lays his plat flatly against your warm back.

You sigh in contentment and curl further into him, welcoming the touch of his hand, especially when he starts rubbing up and down.

“That feels so nice,” you murmur, moaning softly, “don’t stop, Eddie.”

Of course it wasn’t the greatest move to make, of course it would backfire, of course he would be the one with the problem. It’s already not helping that you’re almost fully on top of him, hand underneath his shirt as your nails scratch against his skin and now you are moaning because of him.

He places the joint between his lips and takes a long drag, needing it desperately.

“Your hands always feel so nice, Eds.” The words tumble fall from your lips just like that, like you no longer find yourself caring about the consequences of your words or your actions, maybe it’s the alcohol and the weed in your system that makes you so careless and bold, or maybe it’s the reassuring touch of your best friend that gives you the confidence to let you say what’s on your mind.

Eddie freezes, shocked he stares at the movie playing on the screen, his hand stops moving as well for a moment, he wonders if he really heard you right. You press against his hand again, wanting more.

“And you don’t know what they can do, sweets,” he rasps into your ear, confidently and like he isn’t losing his mind over you.

A whimper sounds through the room, your whimper. You try to conceal it by coughing into your hand but he heard it, and he felt how you tensed up at his words.

He swallows harshly, squirming beneath you, he tries his hardest to hold back that growl. His hand slips from under your shirt and down to your thigh when you lean forward to reach for the joint in the ashtray.

“Rolling good joints?” You murmur, trying to hide your nervousness and how flustered you really are.

Eddie can’t help but snort, mumbling a soft ‘sure’ to your question.

Despite the tension in the room and your unwanted awkwardness, time keeps passing and the night goes on, the movie continues playing, moving into a direction that neither of you expected at the start of it – what begins with an innocent scene of the beautiful lead getting ready for her date with the guy she is keeping a secret, develops into something different, something more, something that should not have the effect on you that it does right now but when they start kissing in his car, slowly and sensually at first, her fingers buried in his long hair as his slip under her shirt, you can’t help but bite your lip. Your skin grows hot, your thighs clench together, your grip on his shirt tightens as your mind flips this scene into you kissing Eddie in his car.

The wine was supposed to help, the weed too, but neither of them did, neither of them managed to give you the calming effect that you were hoping for, if anything both only heightened your senses and intensified absolutely everything in you, because suddenly, his body feels so much closer, his cologne so much more intoxicating than usual, his touch heating your skin on fire, his breath on your skin tickles you and those evil thoughts in your head make you wonder what it would feel like to feel his breath elsewhere, to feel his lips on your skin and his hands holding you tightly, keeping you in place as his lips touch parts of you only your hands did before.

Your heart starts beating faster and you begin to lose composure, the rational voice in your head is gone for good, desire and need taking over now, a confidence you didn’t know you had rushing through you as you move your leg, pressing the heel of your foot against his shin.

And while you are getting bolder, Eddie is trying his best to stay calm, to not act upon his feelings and ruin the one good thing in his life, despite the clear signs you are currently giving, he makes no move, even when he wants nothing more but to bury his face in your neck and suck on your skin until you are marked up by him. The smell of your perfume drives him insane, the feeling of your skin pressed against his makes his stomach flutter with no end near in sight, his heart hasn’t stopped racing yet.

The blanket slips from your lower half, his shirt has ridden up on your body, revealing the panties you are wearing, the black lace resting so perfectly on your soft skin. He clenches his jaw at the sight of it, biting back the moan that wants to fall off his lips so badly.

Something else flutters now, not just his heart or those butterflies in his stomach and it makes him so uncomfortable because he won’t be able to hide it, not right now.

Soft moans fill the living room, along with the sounds of lips smacking together. You bite your lip even harder, hold onto him even tighter as your eyes stay glued to the screen, watching intently as the couple undresses each other slowly, their hands becoming more and more desperate on each other, whimpers getting louder.

You are so lost in it, you let your body move on its own, your foot continues to slide up his shin and his knee, hip angling as you twist your body further into him. As the scene gets more and more intense, the thoughts in your head do too.

The coil in your stomach grows, burning hotly, you are throbbing between your legs, growing wetter and wetter each passing second as you imagine yourself moaning like the girl on the TV – moaning for him, with him.

Eddie is frozen in place, stunned at everything that is happening this very moment, not only is the scene very erotic but the moves you are pulling now are just about enough for him to get hard – and he can’t exactly conceal anything, not when he is wearing grey sweatpants and you are tightly pressed against him.

Do you even know what you are doing to him?

When Eddie shifts beneath you and his fingers dig deeper into your skin, you lower your head and tear your eyes from the screen to his lap and your mouth waters in an instant, eyes growing wide and the burning in your stomach only worsens.

“Got a problem there, Eds?” You blurt out as you stare at the very prominent bulge.

He wants to crawl under the blanket and hide his flustered face but instead he rolls his eyes, trying to act cool, averting his gaze from you and back to the screen, pretending that it’s the girl in the movie that caused this.

“I am just a man, leave me alone…”

A giggle escapes you, and you look up at your best friend to find him blushing furiously. His long lashes kissing his skin every time he blinks, his dark eyes shine so prettily, his lips are just so… so kissable. His neck is so perfect to be marked up by you. His dark hair cascading down to his shoulders so perfectly, but you want to make a mess of him.

“Aw, poor man,” you tease him before you finally let go of any doubts, of any fears or anxious thoughts, you grab the joint from between his fingers and put it back on the ashtray and then, you lean back to him and do something that you always craved to do, you press your lips against his jaw, kissing him.

His lips part in surprise, heart stopping for a moment, he stares into blank space now as you repeat the motion, pressing your lips against his skin again and again, humming in contentment.

His legs feel like jelly and if he wasn’t sitting down already, he surely would’ve felt his knees buckle at this electric touch. Words can’t describe the feeling of this, of you. He imagined this so many times, your lips on his skin, just the imagination of it had him feeling giddy but this, he can’t even function.

You move closer and closer, your hand finding the chain around his neck, your breath kissing his skin, you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes that could make him do anything you would ask for.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing…?” He finds his voice again.

You shrug, looking at him innocently, “I don’t know, I just want to kiss your face, is that so bad?” You ask before you lean in again, not waiting for an answer from him, you press your lips back against his jaw, finger hooked around his chain and your other hand moving from his chest and up to his hair, giving it a slight pull.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, the soft smile that rested on his features before slowly falling now. He clenches his jaw when you kiss it again and again, his heart races like crazy now, the feelings in him, the love he feels for you bursting in him as he finally gets a taste of what things could be like if you were his girl.

You light up a fire in him, but make him weak at the same time, you make him feel safe but he also burns for you, he desires you in ways he wasn’t even aware existed, only a taste of this, of you, could kill him because if he can’t have you again after having you once, he surely will die slowly and torturously as he forever will be reminded of this, of what could be.

He breathes in shakily as his hands fall to your waist, gripping you tighter than ever before, it takes everything in him not to grab your face and kiss you senseless but it takes even more to stop you.

He wants this, he wants you so bad, he wants to keep feeling your lips, your touch, you.

But what is this to you?

His hand moves up to the back of your neck, he wraps his fingers around it, pulling you away softly with a deep inhale.

“Don’t do this to me now, darling,” he whispers weakly, not caring about how vulnerable he sounds, how vulnerable he must look right now.

You ignore his pleading, and you move closer again, straddling his thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck, you look into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him, no longer caring about anything. You kiss his cheek softly and then the other, noting the soft sigh falling from his lips, the grip of his hand on you becoming tighter and stronger.

Eddie is breathing heavily now, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself as your lips are so close to his own.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You pull back to look at him, taking in the intense emotions flashing in his eyes as he stares at you with nothing but hunger, his eyes flicking back and forth between your lips and your neck.

“Why?” You whisper innocently as you lean in again and without thinking, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, a curse word falls from his lips as he clenches his jaw again.

“Because I’m trying to hold back.”

“Who says I want you to?” You ask softly and he opens his eyes again, tilting his head to the side, he furrows his brows at you.

“Don’t do this to me, baby, you know how bad I–”

The brush of your knee against his bulge as you throw your leg over his thigh completely leaves the words stuck in his throat, you straddle him the way you only ever did in his dreams.

“How bad you what?” You whisper as you slowly lean your forehead against his, letting your lips brush against his own as you gaze into his eyes.

You can see the way he is holding back from doing what he wants, what you both want, so you give him a little push. You nuzzle your nose against his, giving him that soft look that gets you anything you want, that makes him weak.

If only you knew just the feelings you cause inside of him.

Eddie takes a deep breath, he shuts down all the racing thoughts in his head and finally, he cups your cheeks, holding your face gently.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whispers and smashes his lips against yours, kissing you finally. He pushes all his fears and his insecurities aside, not wanting to dwell on them any longer, not wanting to think of them now when he gets the chance to do this and your whimper, that needy little sound that comes from you when you kiss him back only fuels his need to kiss you harder and deeper.

You press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you bury your fingers into his curls, taking a fistful of his hair as you move your lips against his, slowly at first. You get so lost in it, loving the way it feels to kiss his lips, to kiss your best friend. It’s everything and more than you imagined it to feel like, it feels so perfect, so right, so safe. You let yourself fall into him, melting into his embrace as his hands move down to your waist, holding you tightly the way you do to him.

The sound of your sighs and moans, lips smacking and the movie still playing in the back, whimpers coming from the girl on the TV makes it all a little more intense, because the burning in your thighs becomes unbearable, the feeling of his tongue brushing against your lower lip as he pushes you down against his bulge has you aching and yearning.

To Eddie this feels like a dream, like it’s something not real, not even close to being real because this is something that only ever lived in his mind, whether he was just thinking about you at work, while writing songs, while sitting next to you or while getting off in the middle of the night, this was only ever a dream but now it isn’t. The kiss is real, your moans are real, your body is truly pressed against his, you are sitting right on top of him, slowly dragging your hips along his aching dick and it feels so fucking good, better than he could ever even dream of.

Everything in him burns for you, his heart, his soul, every cell, every organ, you are like a drug to him that he was already addicted to before he even tried it, but now? He is gone forever. A kiss that could lead to nothing, that could only stay this, a kiss, perhaps a mistake for you that you will regret come morning, enough to break him.

What is it gonna be? The kiss that will lead to the start of something his heart screamed for since the very beginning? Or will this be his kiss of death?

He has to be sure, he needs to be sure so he pulls away, begrudgingly so, he pulls away from the kiss that he never wants to stop, breathlessly, he opens his eyes to look at you for the first time after this change between you both but you are not having it, leaning in with a whine, you peck his lips again, making his heart flutter.

“Baby–” You cut him off by kissing him again, desperately and he once again has to pull away reluctantly.

“Baby, hear me out first, fuck–” he groans when you peck his lips again, whining at him in a way that has him clenching his jaw but this time, he cups your cheeks and pulls you away from him and you finally open your eyes and look at him, pouting at him with a needy look on your face. Fuck. “Fucking hell, wait– you need to tell me if you really want this or if its the alcohol and the weed talking.”

You shake your head wildly, grabbing his wrists as you lean closer again, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chin and finally his lips again, the way you always desired to, the way you always dreamed of, the way you always denied yourself of it when it’s all you ever wanted.

“Is it the alcohol and the weed talking for you?” You murmur against his lips, looking at him through hooded eyes.

With a frown he shakes his head, “fuck no, I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart, you have no idea for how long.” He admits openly, not caring about being vulnerable right now, about admitting his feelings for you – the friendship is ruined now.

Your lips twitch, eyes shining with nothing but love for him, for your best friend, your heart bursts in your chest, everything in you calms down yet screams in joy. You can see the anxiety in his eyes, the fear that lingers within him, you want to take it.

“Good, then we’re on the same page,” you whisper happily, nuzzling your nose against his.

Eddie blinks, staring at you, stunned. A shaky breath falls from his lips, his heart has stopped beating for a moment, the world has stopped moving, time has stopped. He had dreamed of this for so long, fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss you, to touch you, to hold you, to love on you but he had never thought of this, simply because he never thought it would happen, that it would be a possibility, you feeling the same. He thought he was doomed, cursed to spend his life loving you from afar and watching you slip through his fingers as the years would pass, he would love you while you would love someone else, while you would build a life with someone else, he would stay your best friend, the obsessed, lovesick best friend who would never move on, the best friend who would choose you over and over again even if he was given the chance to be loved by someone else, he would never love anyone the way he loves you, his heart belongs to you, fully. He is yours, he had always been yours but he never thought that you could be his, no matter how many nights he spent wishing for it. Life had never been kind to him so why would it grant him the highest wish he has? And yet, here you are, looking at him as though he hung the stars and the moon, as though he is the best thing that was ever created, like he is something pure, something beautiful, something worth loving. Have you always looked at him this way?

His eyes start burning as his heart starts beating again, the warmth he felt because of you, turning into burning desire, the desire to claim you like he had always wanted to, to rip his heart from his chest and give it to you.

You whisper his name sweetly, grabbing his hand softly, you move it down your shoulder, your chest and finally placing it above your beating heart.

“All for you, baby.”

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes flicker between your face and his hand, feeling the racing of your heart that matches the beat of his own. His eyes soften, love taking over the lust that was flashing in them just moments ago. He doesn’t know what to say, the words are stuck in his throat, he is speechless.

You can see it, you can see the shock in his eyes, he stares at you like he wonders if this is real or not. He is breathing heavily, blinking slowly, his lips part, cheeks flushing.

“Eddie–”

Suddenly, he moves forward and grabs your cheeks again, slamming his lips against yours roughly, desperately. He kisses you hotly, strongly, more intensely than he did before, like he is scared that you might slip away if he doesn’t do it this way.

You throw your arms around his neck again, whining needily into the kiss, you part his lips with your tongue and slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further as you grind your hips against him, making him moan against your lips as he holds you stronger, gripping you tightly as though he is scared that you will slip away if he doesn’t.

This kiss is much hungrier than the first, so much deeper and intense, it’s filled with a desperation that was pent up for a long, long time – not weeks or even months, but years. He waited for years for this, you can feel it and your heart races wildly for him. The need to show him just how much you want him too, how you reciprocate his love burns so deeply within you.

You grind your hips against his, feeling just how hard he is for you, the ache between your legs becomes worse, unbearable, and he can tell, he can feel by the way you move your hips, by the sounds of your needy whines.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, never had he felt such desperation before, such an overwhelming amount of love. He feels stuck between wanting to cry out of pure happiness while making love to you and devouring you vigorously as he shows you just how much he needs, wants you.

His ringed fingers dig into your waist and he begins to push you off of him, guiding you down against the soft cushions without breaking the kiss, he groans against your lips when you spread your legs for him, tugging him on top of you before he can even do it himself. God, you truly want him just as much.

Eddie slides his hand up your body, cupping your cheek once more, he continues kissing you, clashing his tongue against yours, making you mewl as he takes control and grinds against you, a movement that tears out a different kind of sound in you, a whine so needy that it sends shockwaves through his body.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips heavily as he pulls away from the kiss and opens his eyes to reveal just how dark they are now.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing your shirt to ride up in the process, your panties exposed to him now.

He clenches his jaw, trying to control himself but it’s becoming so hard when you are under him like this, looking up at him with those needy eyes as you grab each side of his neck, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, pecking his cheeks and his lips before you trail the kisses down to his jawline.

“I need you so bad, Eds,” you whisper into his skin, moving your hand down his shoulder and his arm, fingernails grazing his goosebump covered skin, you take his hand in yours and bring it back down to your body, placing it on your chest, “please?” You ask in desperation.

He takes a deep breath, making his heart flutter and his body burn when he grabs at your boobs for the very first time.

“Please what?” He murmurs as he presses you down again so he can latch his lips onto your jawline. “Tell me what you need, sweet girl. My fingers, my tongue… or my cock?” He surprises himself when those words fall off his lips when he doesn’t even know how to function at this moment.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, finding your sweet spot with no struggle, he starts sucking.

“Mmm, y-your fingers,” you whimper as you take his other free hand and guide it down your stomach slowly, “want your fingers, Eddie and then your cock.”

He could cum right here and there, he had dreamed of this too many times.

“Yeah?” He rasps against you, still kissing your neck, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers first?”

You nod wildly, bringing his hand down to your laced panties, you spread your legs further, grinding against him needily. You are so wet, having soaked through your panties already.

“I-I always think about you when I touch myself, I imagine it’s your fingers instead of mine,” you admit with burning cheeks.

Eddie opens his eyes widely, leaning back from your neck after marking it up, he looks at your blushing face.

“R-Really?” He stutters, though with a satisfied look on his face.

Through hooded eyes, you look at your best friend as you nod shyly, humming.

“Guess we got something in common then,” Eddie smirks as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, he pecks your lips as he slips his fingers down between your legs, finally, cupping your pussy, he presses against your wetness, growling at the feeling.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.”

“I always am for you!” You whine, desperately grinding against the heel of his hand.

His cock twitches at your words, stomach tensing up.

The thought that you might’ve been sitting next to him during movie nights, squirming because of him, waiting to go home so you could touch yourself while thinking of him drives him insane. If he had known… he could’ve done this way sooner.

Eddie pushes your panties aside, dipping his fingers through your folds, he makes both you and himself moan.

“Don’t tease,” you whimper, bucking your hips and pressing yourself against him as he teases your entrance.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie says as he brings his digits up to your clit, “can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

While the shocked look on his face and the disbelief is cute, you can tell what is going on – what went on in his head all this time that he thought that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

You grab his face and smash your lips against his again, kissing him just as roughly as he kissed you the second time, you try to show him, to make him feel what had been there all this time, and he welcomes it so happily, kissing you back right away while his fingers continue to move against your clit, teasingly at first, intensifying the aching inside of you. He licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours as he moans needily, getting lost in the feeling he had craved for so long.

His stomach flutters when you wrap one leg around his waist while rolling your hips, wanting and needing more, he can feel you getting wetter and wetter, moans getting louder, lips moving sloppier. He slips his fingers lower, dipping his middle finger into you slowly, inching it inside of you, pulling the neediest sounds out of you as you clench around him already.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your mouth, “you’re so tight.”

“More!” You demand with a whine, making him chuckle.

“More huh? One finger not enough for you, sweets?” He asks to which you shake your head, furrowing your brows when he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you as he opens you up.

“No, I-I want more,” you whimper at the feeling of him splitting you open, preparing you for his dick, just the thought of it has you drooling already. “I need–” the words die on your tongue and you quickly forget what you even wanted to say when he starts fucking you in slow but deep movements.

“You need what, hmm?” He taunts you, unable to hide the satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you fall apart beneath him, losing your mind over just his fingers as your jaw falls slack and those sweet sounds begin to fill the room along with the squelching of your pussy. “God… You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie doesn’t even know what to do with himself, his heart is beating like crazy, his cock is aching in his grey sweats that feel way too tight by now, pre cum already leaking through the thick material, something he should feel embarrassed about, but he can’t, not when you look him up and down like you’re some hungry and feral animal in heat.

“All because of you, I’ve been wet all day!” You whine as you grab at his hair when he buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your skin as he covers you in love bites. He growls against you, loving those words a little too much.

His wrist starts moving faster, fingers splitting you open, he fucks them in and out of you.

“Do you fuck your tight little pussy like this too?”

Your brows are scrunched together so tightly, eyes rolling back when he curls them inside of you, hitting just the right spot to make you cry out.

“N-No! Not t-this good!”

You roll your hips against his hand, craving to feel him deeper. Your hands are all over him, his hair, his shoulders, his back, gripping at his shirt as you hold on for dear life while he sucks on your neck and fingerfucks your sopping pussy. The room is filled with such dirty sounds, something that should leave you a blushing mess, something that should leave your cheeks burning in embarrassment but you cannot bother to care, it just feels so good and Eddie fucking loves it.

He pulls back to look at you, to admire your face and those marks he left on you, proudly he looks down at you, a look of love, a look of lust flashing in his eyes. He watches the way you bite your lip, eyes open widely again, you admire him too. And then, you push yourself up on your elbow, pecking his lips before you look down at his hand, wanting to see, wanting to watch his fingers moving in and out of you.

“You like that, huh?” He mumbles as he presses his forehead against yours, “you like being fucked by your best friend like this?”

You whimper again, louder this time as you nod, clenching around his fingers so tightly that he can’t help but growl – how is he going to last? How will he be able to control himself not to cum the second he enters you?

Everything becomes so much hotter, the air around you, the energy in this room, his body against yours, his fingers inside of you, the coil in your stomach, everything starts burning and somehow, it only fuels the need in you.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and push it up to your collarbones, exposing your chest to him, your boobs bounce as you throw your head back against the pillow to see him better and his reaction does not disappoint, if you weren’t so lost in pleasure you would have giggled at the awestruck look on his face, at the wide eyes and the parted lips.

“Baby,” he whispers as he presses his large hand to your now bare waist, slipping it upwards slowly, “you’re unreal, fuck… you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as though in disbelief, staring down at you as though you are something that came straight out of his imagination. He grabs your boob roughly, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he leans down and wraps his lips against the other, wasting no time to suck on it, making you arch your back against him as you throw your hand into his curls, fingers grazing his scalp as you give it a harsh tug, something that he fucking loves.

“I-I… oh my god!” You whimper as tears begin to pull in your eyes when he presses his thumb to your clit, teasing you. “D-Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Eddie! That feels so good!” You nearly scream as he starts moving his fingers faster than before, fucking them in and out of you roughly. You are clenching around him, digging your heel into his ass as you move along to his thrusts.

He looks up at you, loving the sight of you coming undone before him, it’s the prettiest sight to him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath him when he actually fucks you. He licks around your nipple, adding more pleasure to your body.

“Eddie!” You writhe beneath him, blinking the tears away as you look down at him. Your stomach tenses up, burning as the pleasure builds up more and more, almost becoming unbearable, everything inside of you is lit on fire, absolutely every part of you. Your toes curl, your knuckles turn white from how rough you are grabbing at his curls, the sounds that fall from your mouth are almost not recognizable, sounding too pornographic but you have never felt anything like this before, especially not from just being finger fucked.

Eddie pushes himself back up, straightening his back, he slides his hand further up your chest, passing your collarbones and settling around your throat, he tests the waters at first, needing you to be okay with this – he watches the way your eyes darken at this, lips parting as you push yourself up on your elbows, you bring your hand up to his wrist, wrapping your fingers tightly around it, you press it harder against your throat, asking him to choke you.

Eddie laughs darkly, lips curling into a satisfied grin, he shakes his head at you, “of course you’re into that shit. You’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

It takes you a moment to answer his question because the view before you is just a little too distracting. Eddie hovers over you with one hand between your thighs, knuckle deep buried inside of you while his other hand is now wrapped around your throat, rings on, veins popping out of his tattooed forearm, dark curls falling in front of his face as he looks down at you like he wants to devour you but make love to you at the same time.

God, he is beautiful.

Your eyes move down his body, the wet patch on his sweatpants, the bulge making you drool, making you want to drop to your knees for him, worship him, choke on him, suck the soul out of him. You can’t help yourself, moving your hand down his stomach, you grab his dick, wiping the smirk off his face completely as he moans loudly.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his sweats, teasing him the way he teased you, though Eddie is less patient than you are. His hips stutter, a whimper falls off his lips so prettily and you almost tease him for it but he curls his fingers so deeply inside of you, presses his thumb against your clit so strongly that your vision blurs for a second.

“Eddie… Eddie!” You say his name twice, pressing your hand stronger against him, you hook your fingers around the band of his pants.

“D-Don’t tease me or else I’ll cum right this second,” he growls as his cheeks start burning at his words.

“Don’t do that,” you warn as you push his pants down just enough, his dick slaps against his stomach, precum leaking out and rolling down his length, his tip an angry red, thick veins so prominent. Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the sight of him, of his size, his length.

Eddie looks down at you with burning cheeks and begging eyes, he feels the way you clench around his fingers, feels how you soak his digits.

You look at him intensely, watching him fall apart at nothing but the touch of your hand, his eyelashes flutter, a content sigh falling from his lips when you wrap your fingers around his length, “your cock is so pretty, Eds,” you purr, jerking him off slowly, you tease him a little, “I want to choke on it.”

His hips stutter, cock twitching in your hand as he whimpers at your words, “fuck… you can’t just say that to me.”

You pull your hand away from him, holding it up to him, “spit.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, eyes darkening further but he complies, right away, he spits into your hand and watches the way you bring it back down to his dick, wrapping your fingers around him again, you grip him just perfectly, jerking him off in a way that he only ever dreamed off.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, clenching his jaw in concentration, his eyes moving back and forth between your glistening pussy and your hand getting him off. “I-I won’t last long,” he warns you, wanting to get lost in the pleasure, but even more so, he wants to feel you wrapped around him.

With your free hand, you tug at his wrist, needing to feel his lips on yours again and without wasting a second, he slams his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly as he takes full control, parting your lips with his tongue, he moans into your mouth when you clench around his fingers again.

The room is now filled with heavy moans, no longer coming from the TV but from you and him, desperation so clear in both your voices, lips smacking against one another so needily and the alcohol, the weed in your systems only makes it all a tad bit more intense.

As much as Eddie is enjoying the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he has to stop you or else he will cum before getting what he actually wants.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, lips twitching when you already whine in protest, “baby, I-I fuck… I need you stop or else I’ll cum too fucking soon.”

You pull away begrudgingly, wanting to pout at him but he quickly distracts you by speeding up his fingers inside of you. Letting go of your throat, he brings his now free hand down to your clit, wasting no second to play with your sensitive nub while he curls and slams his fingers in and out of you.

A gasp falls from your lips as he repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, the one that allows you to see stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, one that he instantly kisses away. You want to look at him, you want to watch your best friend but the pleasure becomes too much and you can’t help but shut your eyes tightly. Your stomach burns in a way that has you whimpering and when you try to close your legs to relieve that pleasurable pain, he grabs your knee and stops you.

“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, baby,” he murmurs hotly against your lips, “I know you want to cum, so let go for me,” he whispers, “let go.” One more swipe against your clit, one last thrust, one more kiss to your neck and you come undone for your Eddie, leaking around his fingers as your body trembles beneath his.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He slows down his movements, looking down at your legs to see them shaking, just from this. He lets you ride out your orgasm, giving you a moment to catch your breath. He kisses your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your jawline and your lips. And then, he pulls his fingers out of you, his mouth waters at the sight of your slick, wasting no time to bring his digits up to his lips, he dips them on his tongue, closing his eyes at your taste, he moans loudly.

You open your eyes at the sound, stunned, you stare at him in hunger and lust, watching the way he laps at his fingers that were inside of you just seconds ago. His eyes are closed and he looks content. If you hadn’t been so feral already, you definitely would have been by now.

“You’re even sweeter than I thought,” he mewls after releasing his fingers with a pop, opening his eyes to look down at you with a smirk. “I can’t wait to take my time and eat your pussy.”

You grab him by the chain around his neck, tugging at it harshly, you’re surprised it doesn’t break by the force, you pull him back down against you and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Eddie smiles against your lips, loving the way you moan at your own taste. He feels your hands sliding down his back, tugging at his shirt, demanding him to take it off and he does so instantly, only breaking the kiss for a second so he can tear it off his skin before his lips are back on yours, his pants are next to go as you push them down further, with your help he kicks them off, not caring where they land.

He hooks his finger around your ruined panties, he begins to tug at them and you push your hips up so he can take them off, dragging them down your legs, he throws them to the ground beside his clothes before you both pull away from the kiss to take off the shirt that is still bunched up over your chest.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, looking at you in awe and then, his lips return to you and he places his elbows on either side of your head, pressing his chest against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer until nothing separates you any longer, until he feels your heat against his aching dick and he is so close, so close to getting what he wanted, until he remembers.

“Fuck,” he curses in annoyance, clenching his jaw already as he breaks the kiss, “wait…” But you don’t listen, cupping his cheeks, you make it even harder for him when you keep kissing him, pleading for more.

Frustration bubbles up inside of him and he almost wants to cry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shakily. “Wait, wait, wait…”

Finally, you pull away, eyes filled with curiosity, “what?”

“I don’t–” he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes as he clenches his fists and closes his eyes for a moment, “I don’t have a condom,” he says through gritted teeth, feeling dejected but then he feels you pull him closer again, cupping the back of his neck, you press your lips back against his.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” you whisper, pressing your heel against his bum, “I waited too long for this, so don’t stop… please, Eddie.”

A growl threatens to spill from his lips, the feeling of frustration is suddenly replaced by something else, not only the need he had felt for so long but something else, something much stronger, something that has him fighting his inner demons.

He opens his eyes, staring at you as though you had gone crazy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweets?”

You giggle so cutely at that, in a way that makes him want to pound you into this couch until you are nothing but a screaming mess.

“I have an idea,” you admit smugly, batting your eyelashes at him as your eyes flicker back and forth between his tattoos and his lips, hand already moving down his stomach, fingers reaching for him, you bite your lip as you look into his eyes, he is staring at you so intensely that it makes you blush. You wrap your fingers around his length again, mewling when you guide him through your wet folds, teasing both you and himself.

Eddie grips the pillow beneath your head, cursing at the feeling. You can tell that he is trying to control himself, trying to keep his composure but he is losing it quickly when he feels your heat, your wetness.

With your free hand, you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with begging eyes, “please, fuck me, Eddie,” you whisper as you tilt your head up to kiss his lips, “show me how bad you want me, don’t hold back… please–”

With a growl, he lets your words die on your tongue, replacing your hand with his own, he guides himself to your entrance, nudging it with the leaking tip of his cock, he presses his forehead and his lips to yours as he thrusts inside of you, torturously, splitting you open around his length.

His heart could burst for feeling you so close, so intimately, his love for you burning stronger than ever, the immortal flame getting bigger and bigger, his body feels on fire, his soul feels at home and now he knows you feel the same, when you hold him close and you kiss him so passionately, tightening your legs around his waist in order to feel him closer, whimpering into him in such a needy way while you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t close enough despite being pressed against you, he knows you feel the same, in every way.

He pushes into you deeper and deeper, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration as he feels you fully, working you open with nothing between you. He feels your warmth, feels your heat around him, your wetness dripping down onto the couch beneath you as fills you up completely. He never felt anything like this before, he never thought he would but god, he is already addicted, he had always been to you but now even worse, he will never be the same again, he will come back to Hawkins a changed man.

“Fucking hell, darling,” he growls against your lips as he stills inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and himself a moment to concentrate so he doesn’t ruin this by coming too soon, though the thought of filling you up with his seed drives everything in him crazy, he wants it, craves it so bad. “You feel so… so perfect.”

You’re wailing, squirming beneath him, already looking down, wanting to see your bodies connected as sensitive whimpers escape your mouth.

“Y-You’re so big, Eddie,” you say, eyes blurred with tears, words leaving your mouth breathlessly, “hurts so good.”

Your words don’t exactly do him a favor, especially when he opens his eyes and he looks down at you, watching the way your chest rises up and down heavily, the way you look down between your legs in desperation before your big eyes look up at him, glassy. Your lips are so puffy from all the kissing, your forehead glistening with sweat, your cheeks flushed.

Your walls flutter around him, making it harder and harder for him.

Eddie grabs your chin, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, so fucking sweet and good for me but you’re driving me crazy, right now.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper, pouting at him as you hold his bicep harder, “please, fuck me, Eddie. I need it, I need you so bad– ah!” You scream out when he pulls out and slams back inside of you again.

“Shh, I got you, I got you, baby,” he shushes your words, “can’t believe you are so desperate for my cock.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your free hand gets lost in his hair, tugging at his curls as you roll your hips against his, going crazy at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Please, please, please!”

Eddie groans at your pleading, at the obvious desperation, at the need that you feel for him, and only him. His left knee digs into the soft cushions on the couch and he places his right foot against the floor, watching your face intently as he starts rolling his hips, making you gasp out loudly.

“Oh my–” He pants, eyes rolling back as your name falls from his lips.

“You… I…” You stutter, unable to find the right words, to even come up with anything as you lose yourself in this feeling. Your mouth waters and so do your eyes, his chain dangles before your face as he thrusts into you, faster and faster, deeper and rougher. You can’t help but clench around him, he fills you up so perfectly, his tip brushes against that one spot so rightly.

You throw your arms around him as he cups the top of your head, holding eye contact with you as he rolls his hips harder.

“I’m so fucking obsessed with you, do you even know that?” He kisses your lips, smacking them loudly against yours.

“Mmm, I’m obsessed with you too, baby,” you whimper as you meet his thrusts, rolling your hips as well.

“I never thought I’d get to have this, to have you.”

You only hold onto him tighter in response, leaning into his neck, you brush your nose against it and latch your lips onto his neck, pecking along until you find that one spot that makes him whine, you start sucking, marking him up the way he did to you, not knowing just how feral that makes him.

To wear your marks on his skin, to be claimed as yours makes his heart burst but it awakens something in him, because suddenly, he feels the need to pound you into this couch and he does so, he snaps his hips into yours, thrusting roughly.

“Eddie!” You scream out in a choked sob, digging your nails into his skin as you cling to his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans loudly, not bothering to hide just how desperate you make him feel. He cups the back of your neck and pulls you back down, wanting and needing to see your face, he wastes no second before his lips are back on yours and his hips strike roughly into you, cock slamming in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling the room, along with your moans and the slapping sounds as he fucks you.

Neither of you want to pull away from the kiss, no matter how sloppy it gets, you don’t want to break the kiss and neither does he, not even when you grow breathless. You cling to each like you never did before, welcoming the pleasure that becomes almost too much. There is soreness in your thighs, burning in your lower back and an overwhelming sensation inside of you, an itch that only he can mend.

And Eddie, he feels as though he is losing his mind, getting to feel this, to feel you, to kiss you and swallow your moans as your dripping walls cling to his cock, twitching around him and begging to be filled. Your arms and legs are so tight around him, you beneath him like he had only seen you in his dreams and in his imagination, you’re shaking, whining and trembling and you are close, he can feel it by the way you are getting tighter and tighter after each of his thrusts.

Reaching down, he hooks his forearm around the back of your knee and he brings it up, pushing it higher until he can thrust into you from a different angle, one that makes you scream out with a high pitched moan and the neediest look he had ever seen on your face.

“Fuck… just like that, baby, scream for me,” he rasps out.

“Y-You’re so good, fuck me… Eds! Your cock feels so nice, please don’t stop, don’t ever stop!” You sputter, not knowing just how those words make him feel.

You don’t know where to look, his pretty face, how he looks as he fucks you like you only ever dreamed of, how pretty his face is when he moans your name so sexily or how his glistening cock pounds in and out of you.

And Eddie struggles just the same, though he settles on watching your beautiful face, wanting to see you fall apart more and more.

And though you don’t want this moment to end, and neither does he, you both drag it out for as long as you can, not caring about anything anymore, not caring about the mess you are making on the couch. You are both sweaty, you are leaking down onto the cushions and Eddie is sure that he ripped a hole into the pillow beneath you earlier from how roughly he held it.

A strangled whine leaves your lips and he knows you can’t hold on any longer, so he brings his hand down your stomach, pressing his fingers against your clit, causing you to jerk and whimper against him.

“You’re close, baby, I can feel it,” he whispers against your neck, not slowing down his movements in the slightest, if anything, he starts fucking you even deeper, making you scream louder now as your fingernails rip through his skin from how hard you’re grabbing him and he welcome that pleasuring burn, “cum around my cock, do it for me, sweetheart. I know you want to be my good girl.”

With another loud whine, you finally let go of him, arching your back and shutting your eyes tightly, you cum around your best friend's cock, for the first but definitely not the last time. You tighten around him so strongly that his hips stutter and his knees almost buckle, heat spreads through his skin and his stomach tightens as his own body screams for release.

He can’t wait any longer either and panic ripples through him when you hold him tighter than before, locking him in as you refuse to let go. It makes his heart flutter and it does make him want to release but–

“I need to pull out, sweetheart,” he says shakily, knowing all too well that he doesn’t actually want it and apparently, you don’t either because you start shaking your head at him, opening your needy eyes.

“No, no, don’t make a mess– cum inside of me, please!”

His hips stutter once more, his dick twitches achingly inside of you, “you can’t just fucking say that–” he whimpers, unable to finish the sentence, one more thrust and he spills inside of you, coating your walls with his seed as your name falls from his lips before he smashes his lips to yours for the hundredth time tonight, swallowing your cry.

Tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, your leg starts slipping from his waist and his thrusts slow down, though his grip doesn’t loosen on you, he continues to hold you close, the way you do as well as you grab his shoulder and his bicep, squeezing him tightly while your tongue clashes against his.

Your walls spasm and contract around his length, sending shockwaves and an unbearable amount of pleasure through his sensitive body.

Slowly, he removes his hand from between your legs, sliding it up your hot body until he is cupping your cheek again, he makes you both whimper when he pulls his softening cock out of you.

Your name rolls off his tongue when you both pull away from the kiss, he says it like it’s a blessing, like a prayer. Your eyes make contact again and you stare at each other for a moment, lovingly, adoringly, and then, you both smile and giggle and press your lips back against each other, pecking one another again and again.

“My Eddie,” you whisper as you admire the marks you left on him.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he realizes that this isn’t just a moment, that this isn’t just for now, for tonight, that you waited for it just like he has. He looks down at you, brushing away and tucking your hair behind your ear as he caresses your cheek, his heart soaring in his chest. “I can’t believe this happened.”

You giggle at him, “I’m glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” He grins lazily, eyes dropping to your chest as he leans down and presses his lips to your jaw, “I’m fucking on top of the world right now.”

You brush your fingers through his curls, giggling yet again.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork, right?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that questions more than just this. He wants to be yours, he wants it so badly.

You nod happily, eyes flashing with happiness.

“Mhmm, you’re mine, all mine.”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he feels his sensitive dick twitching at your words, heart bursting inside of him, “I’m yours, all yours.”

You tug him closer and closer, breathing against his lips as you eye him hungrily again, you feel him leaking out of you and it only makes your thighs burn again, “and I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps as his fingers dip inside of you, he groans at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, he pushes it back into you with a moan, “you’re mine, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, Eddie,” you mewl, pushing your hips up and chasing for more already.

“You want more?”

You nod, “yes… more, please!”

Not needing to be told twice, he slowly pushes his fingers and his cum back into you, making you both moan at that.

“You know what, I'm glad we did this today,” Eddie mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?” You moan, arching your back in pleasure when he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Mhmm, that means I get to fuck you over and over and over for the whole weekend,” he smirks before he slams his lips against yours again, kissing you passionately and sensually while his fingers move and in out of you, creating a mess with his cum leaking out of you and your own wetness sticking to your thighs and his.

You both fill the room with filthy noises, needy and desperately you touch each other, grabbing and pulling at each others hair as the night goes on, continuing to mark each other up, to taste one another, to fuck like animals in heat, the movie long forgotten as his tongue laps at your pussy when he is kneeled on the ground with your legs dangling of his shoulders and your fingers pull at his hair roughly.

This night never ends, the pleasure continuing until the early morning hours, until you can no longer take it, until you both get too sensitive, until you’re both nothing but a panting, sweaty mess and even then, you still kiss and cling to one another.

The night was filled with desperation, with pent up emotions, with filthiness yet with love and adoration, and this night has changed you both forever, for good.

“So… What you’re telling me is–…” Steve begins, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched as he stands before you and Eddie with a stern look on his face. You are both on his couch, looking up at him like scolded children. “You need to buy me a new… bed?”

You are blushing furiously, embarrassment written all over your face. You glare at Robin who is standing in the corner, sipping on her soda with an amused look on her face.

“Uh… yeah.”

You know how badly Eddie wants to laugh, he is smug, you can see it on his face but he stays quiet, for a second at least.

“And a new arm chair?” Steve mumbles, looking between you both.

“Yeah.” Eddie snorts to which you elbow him, shushing him.

“Don’t forget the flower vase,” Robin snickers.

Steve throws his hands up, “and a fucking flower vase, thanks Robin!”

You put your finger up and straighten your back, “actually, the flower vase fell by itself–”

“Because you were fucking on top of the table!” Steve retorts to which your boyfriend chuckles in satisfaction, not being embarrassed by anything in the slightest.

You turn to look at him, he only smirks at you and shrugs, holding your thigh tighter than before.

“I’d buy a new couch too–”

“Eddie!”

Robin moves closer and eyes you both, eyeing the matching marks on your necks.

“I hope you used protection, at least.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking at you both expectedly, your flustered face gives you away completely as you sink deeper into the couch, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in Eddie’s neck.

“Great, now I might be a fucking uncle.”

“Godfather,” Eddie corrects him, making you giggle.

“Go to hell,” Steve shakes his head, though he can’t hide the look on his face and how delighted he is to hear that he would be considered a godfather if it were to happen. And despite the clear distaste on his face after hearing what you did at his cabin, he can’t help but feel happy for you both.

Robin looks down with a smile on her face when Eddie wraps his arm around you and kisses your cheek softly and Steve’s eyes soften as well.

He sighs and rolls his eyes as he finally takes a seat, he reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“I’m happy my plan worked but you both will go back, replace the furniture and clean everything up before I lose my shit and I kill you before my parents kill me.”

You nod at him with wide eyes, while Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “clean up? Oh, we did clean up and besides, we didn’t waste a single drop.”

“Eddie,” you whine as you bury your face in your hands while Robin groans in disgust.

Steve only sighs but his lips twitch slightly, curling into a smirk as he nods at Eddie.

“At least I know your children aren’t running around my cabin.”

You give Eddie a warning glance but he is already smirking at you, gripping your thigh harder, slipping under your skirt.

“They’re somewhere else.”

“Oh, gross!” Robin coughs and turns away with a frown on her face.

“Eddie!” You whine and slap his chest to which he pulls you closer and kisses your cheek, chuckling in amusement.

Steve shakes his head, sighing.

“I’m never inviting you both to that summer house ever again.”

#my writing ��#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

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redwinelew · 10 days ago

Note

can I request a smau for lewis hamilton where he's secretly dating his new teammate leclerc's sister and a mistake of instagram story tells everyone they're not just flirting on socials but are actually a couple?

thanks<3

BABY, I LIKE FLIRTING!

type social media au

pairing lewis hamilton x twin sister leclerc!reader

summary as requested!

face claim daisy edgar-jones

song after midnight by chappell roan

warnings age gap (28 x 40), a bit suggestive on some parts

author's note figured now would be a good time to post this. also i made reader charles' twin since daisy is close to his age i hope that's alright with u anon. sorry this is shorter than what i usually write i hope u like this 33

english is not my first language. all pictures taken from pinterest, instagram and twitter. credit to owners.

masterlist | request info | requests are OPEN!

ynleclerc just made a post!

♬ Naked In Manhattan • Chappell Roan

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 6,727 others

view all 190 comments

ynleclerc random 2024 photo dump 💋

tagged charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, f1, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511

user who do i need to fight to date charles sister

charles_leclerc user Me obviously

user charles_leclerc my bad bruh 😭🫡

user user LMFAO

user still can't believe vcarb sponsored y/n to come to a race instead of her brother's own team 😭😭

ynleclerc user well does ferrari have danny ric?? and yuki?? no i don't think so

user ynleclerc y/n leclerc aka #1 daniel ricciardo and yuki tsunoda stan

ynleclerc user exactly exactly

user the leclerc genes are insane bro

user user face cards never decline fr

user the best siblings duo ever i don't make the rules

user CHAPPELL ROAN???? you are so real for this

ynleclerc user 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

user she is who i want to be when i grow up

user the coolest girl ever

lewishamilton That skirt looks gorgeous on you

ynleclerc lewishamilton what's underneath is ever better

user ynleclerc WOAH??????

user ynleclerc EXCUSE ME

lewishamilton ynleclerc I know

user lewishamilton AYO??

user lewishamilton SIR??????

user lewishamilton "I know" EHAT DOES THAT MEAN

user lewishamilton grandpa still got some game damn

user lewishamilton something's in the air in maranello fr ain't no way lewis is flirting with charles sister PUBLICLY

messages (y/n's pov)

ynleclerc just added to their stories!

lewishamilton just added to their stories!

twitter!

messages (y/n's pov)

ynleclerc just made a post!

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, doechii and 16,044 others

ynleclerc well since the secret is out...... here's some pics from the archives

ps lewis is still alive dw charles is not gonna kill ferrari's only hope at wcc this year

tagged lewishamilton

view all 712 comments

user I KNEW ITTTT

user i guess now we know why y/n kept hanging out at merc garage last year 😭😭

user user she was also in vcarb's garage??

user user i mean yeah but that was sponsored. during other gps she's always seen hanging out in merc garage but ppl thought it's only bcs she's friends with carmen

user the last pic...... i would do the same tbh

ynleclerc user alex took the pic 😚😚 i just couldn't resist

user and the crowd is in shock????

alexandrasaintmleux it's been so hard keeping this a secret haha so happy for you two ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc alexandrasaintmleux I still can't believe that you knew first before I do

ynleclerc charles_leclerc she's my favorite so i love her more

charles_leclerc ynleclerc WE SHARED A WOMB!!!!!

ynleclerc charles_leclerc and i'm pretty sure you almost ate me so consider this a payback

lewishamilton just made a post!

liked by zhouguanyu24, calliewilson_ and 4,728,948 others.

lewishamilton Mi amor ❤️

tagged ynleclerc

view all 44,630 comments

ynleclerc baby that's spanish 😭😭 mon amour is french

charles_leclerc ynleclerc He doesn't even know the difference? This is the man you claimed to love?

ynleclerc charles_leclerc he's trying ok give him a break 😭😭

charles_leclerc If you break her heart I will sabotage your car. Mark my words, Lewis

ynleclerc charles_leclerc ARE YOU INSANE 😭😭

user charles_leclerc we love a protective brother

user user i can't take the threat seriously i'm afraid lmfao 😭😭

lewishamilton charles_leclerc I deserve it

scuderiaferrari charles_leclerc Please don't

francolapinto congratulations!

user can't believe all of this started bcs of some instagram stories

user user how long do u figure they would keep this a secret if that accident didn't happen 😭😭

user user they're gonna have to be public eventually. can't hide from charles forever

user i wonder how family dinners will be from now on

user user chaotic most definitely

user user thinking about charles giving lewis the talk has me dying

user oh to be charles leclerc's sister and date lewis hamilton

user user living the dream fr

user when i said i want 1644 dramas in 2025 this is NOT what i meant 😭😭

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gilverrwrites · 22 days ago

Text

Oops

AN: Answer to an Anon regarding the Batboys reactions to finding their partner (during the early days of their relationship) sleeping with nothing on their lower half, or finding out they're not wearing underwear beneath their comfy bottoms. Gender Neutral!Reader Ft. Jason, Tim, Bruce, & Dick. In that order. No smut, but suggestive content below.

Jason is so dog-tired, too drained to make it back to his own place when he climbs through your window in the middle of the night. Normally he’d text or call ahead to ask if it was okay. But he’s done this a million times, and you’ve always told him that he doesn’t need to ask; he’s always welcome.

He’s already half asleep as he sluggishly kicks off his boots. He doesn’t notice your naked leg hanging out of the covers as he strips down to nothing but his vest and boxers. There’s a half moment of clarity as he stands above your sleeping form where he wonders if he should wake you, if only to alert you to his presence, but you look so peaceful, he doesn’t want to disturb you. He just wants to sleep.

So, he crawls into bed beside you and quickly dozes off. It’s not until hours later, as the sun peeps in between the curtains and he starts to wake that he realises something is off. Somehow, you’ve managed to become entangled during your sleep, which isn’t uncommon. Your back is to his chest, his arm draped around your waist, rough fingers under your oversized shirt and rested on your soft lower stomach. You mumble something dozily, rolling your hips in your sleep and his hands incidentally sink lower, and lower, before they touch something that he should certainly not be touching without permission.

“J-Jason? What’s going on.” You mumble, half-opened eyes staring at him blearily, having been marginally awakened by the ferocity of Jason ripping his hand away from you and jumping out of the bed.

“Nothing! Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

Thanks to the low rise of your joggers, Tim's eyes are already glued to your hips as you lean over him to patch up a wound on his shoulder. It’s late, and quiet. You’re weary after he disturbed you in the middle of the night. He’s still feeling a little woozy from a knock to the head, and the way your lower body sways has him hypnotised, at least until you turn away from him, bending over to find something in your med kit. He’s distracted immediately by the garment label which is hanging out of your waistband at the back.

Without a second thought, he leans over to tuck it back in for you but as his fingers slip below the band you stand, having already started the motion to move back over to him. The sequence of mis-timed events results in your bottoms being pulled just low enough to bare your ass.

Perhaps if he was feeling 100% himself, Tim would have had the graciousness to look even a little bit guilty about it. You doubt it very much though. Instead, he bites his lips, eyes roving the curve of your backside before following the arc of your body right up to your face where he greets you with a lopsided but decisively provocative smile before whispering; “Oopssss.”

“If Punchline hadn’t already done it, I’d smack you upside the head.” You chide, brushing his hand away and pulling your pants back up much to Tim’s disappointment.

“Awh, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He’s still smiling as you push him back into place so you can continue to see to his injuries. “Was just a happy accident.”

There's a chill in your bones, one so sudden and biting that it jolts you awake. The first thing you notice is the imposing shadow at the end of your bed. Instinctively you shoot up into a seated position, pushing your body backwards and against your headboard until you start to recognise features of the silhouette before you; the lean shoulders, and stiff posture. The glaringly blankness of his chiselled lower face, and the emblem on his chest.

"Bru- Batman?" You exclaim irritated but relieved. “You scared me!”

Your sort-of-but-we-haven’t-quite-defined-it-yet-boyfriend doesn’t reply, and you start to worry again, inclining toward him unconsciously until he deliberately clears his throat. Between the mask and the darkness of the room, you’ve no idea what he’d been looking at exactly, but the polite, intentional turn of his head has it dawning on you quickly.

In an instant you snap your legs closed, embarrassed to have been so exposed but one panic fades to another as Bruce begins to rummage in your wardrobe, informing you that he has reason to believe you’re in danger and that he’s taking you to a safe house for your own protection as he hurtles underwear and pair of trousers at you.

Your nerves begin to calm as you sit in the passenger seat of The Batmobile listening carefully as he brings you up to speed with everything that’s happened and how he plans to fix it.

At least until he begins speaking in a voice that feels intentionally a little smoother than his vigilante persona would typically use. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to take your pants back off when we get there.” And again, you can’t tell where he’s looking, but the coy smile on his lips tells you all you need to know about what he’s thinking.

Dicks always had a habit of hooking his fingers into the waist of your pants to get your attention by pulling you closer or to direct you around busy areas. Even before you’d started dating.

You’d woken before him, but he’d followed not long after, sensing your missing presence from the bed and following the smell of breakfast. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to grab you by the drawstring band of your joggers as a greeting, planning on pulling you away from the sink so he can accost you with morning-breath-laced kisses.

There is a solid 10-second interval in which he stands, staring at you, stock still and silent as he registers the lack of barrier between his skin and yours, and a further 10 more as he examines your face, searching for signs of distress. When he finds nothing but bashful excitement he grins at you, devilish, sinking his fingers further down so he can graze the space just above your stirring sex before fisting the fabric to pull you closer.

“For me?” He quizzes with a quirked brow as he leans in close to you, still watching every micromovement of your face.

“For comfort.” You correct him with a playful grin, lacing your fingers in his shirt regardless.

Feigning disappointment, he sucks on his teeth for a second, rolling his eyes and head back before turning to you with a pout. “An’ here I thought I was special.” Despite his ‘dismay’ you feel his free hand decisively press into the small of your back, holding you in place as the other begins to explore beneath your joggers.

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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months ago

Text

pretty little things

in which you can't keep hiding your stuffed animals from your boyfriend. spencer would like a formal introduction.

fluff! warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, newish established relationship, they're so cute, reader is still kinda shy around him, I'm really obsessed with this dynamic actually, implied intimacy if you decide to interpret it that way, kissing/maybe mildly suggestive a/n: this is dedicated to my friends @parfaitblogs and @gublersg1rl bc in another universe we are actually just three jellycat plushies on someone's bed which is where the inspo for this little thing came from. and thank u willow for naming your fox. ok bye love u hope u enjoy !! :D

The first time you’d shown Spencer your room, and the handful of times he’s been in it since, you very intentionally hid your stuffed animals underneath the bed. After all, you’re an adult. You have a grown up job. And you don’t need him thinking you’re some kind of freak this early into the relationship. You like him too much.

Today, however—you didn’t have any warning. He comes over unannounced, which is all well and good, until you bring him to your bedroom so he can sit on the bed while you change from work clothes into something comfier for movie night. As soon as you open the bedroom door, you see them, lined up neatly by your pillow, and you know it’s too late.

“Uh…”

Spencer runs into your back and takes it as an excuse to settle his hands on your hips as he peers over your shoulder.

“What?”

You slip out of his easy hold and skitter to your bed, practically throwing yourself on the mattress and sitting unnaturally as the little beaded eyes of your friends dig into your back. Even your brightest smile doesn’t distract Spencer. He’s like a bloodhound for the truth. At least, that’s the sense you’re beginning to get.

“What are you doing?” He tries again, eyes narrowed and closing the door carefully behind him.

“Nothing!”

The urgency with which you say it has his eyebrows raising. Obviously delighted by the embarrassing secret he’s sure to uncover, he approaches. You lean back further even as he towers over you until you’re almost on your back and he’s folded over you, menacingly (and dizzyingly) close. This sort of position is still new-ish and has your heart pounding, even if it’s entirely playful and ostensibly innocent.

“Nothing? Are you sure?”

You nod, still shying away from him into the pile of pillows. Without looking he reaches under you and pulls out your pink bunny. You squeak and hide your face.

“What is this?” He laughs, and you yank it away, sitting up so he’s forced to give you some breathing room. The bunny is cradled protectively in your arms, though you try to hold it a bit more casually when you notice.

“I said it’s nothing.”

“What about the other two behind you? The fox and the… what is that? A deer?”

“No—”

“I didn’t even know they made deer stuffed animals—”

“Spencer, stop!”

He does, at the desperate tone of voice and the way you’re still hiding from him.

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

As usual he’s over apologetic, now sitting knee to knee with you on the mattress and leaning down to try and catch your eye. You huff and grant him some eye contact just so he doesn’t go over the edge with worry.

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s really not,” he laughs. “It’s cute. I can’t believe you’ve been—what, hiding them from me? This whole time? That’s like not telling me you have kids.”

“It is not like that.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I think you should probably introduce me.”

You give him a look, letting your head fall to your shoulder. “Spencer.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to be apart of their lives now. You can’t keep shoving them under the bed every time I stay the night.”

This nerd is going to be the death of you.

Eventually, you groan reluctantly.

“Fine. Okay, um—this one is… well—her name is Bunny. It’s not… very creative, but it’s—that’s just her name, okay?”

Spencer doesn’t react to your unjustified defensiveness—only grabs your bunny’s round little pink paw and shakes. “Enchanted.”

“Shut up.” Your face is so hot as you bury your smile and set Bunny aside, making sure she’s comfortable against the pillow before bringing out your deer. Spencer doesn’t have the shit-eating grin you were partially expecting when you glance up at him from beneath your lashes—he’s smiling, but it’s so soft. A little twisted, like he’s holding back the full extent of it for your sake. But you wouldn’t mind it at full power. It’s like he’s hiding the sun in a saucepan and the lid’s not on quite right. And he’s looking right at you. Like you’re the source of all his joy.

A moment passes. You clear your throat and look back down. “Um—this is Bambi. ’Cause—you know.”

“I do,” Spencer agrees genially, nodding as if this were a normal conversation. “Kind of a dark thing to name your deer, though.”

“You’re judging,” you accuse balefully. He chuckles and his hand finds your knee, rubbing apologetically.

“I’m not, I’m not! I take it back. I retract it. Continue, please.”

For a moment you only pout, but it doesn’t deter him—he simply looks at you expectantly, and now those syrupy eyes come with the added bonus of his hand on your leg. Fine. He wins. But not without a deep, tortured sigh from you while you’re grabbing your fox that makes the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“This one is…”

The name dies on your tongue, too ridiculous to be said out loud.

“Tell me,” Spencer pleads in that gentle voice and with those big eyes that you’d consider burning him at the stake for because that look on his face has to be witchcraft.

“Okay but you can’t laugh,” you insist in one quick breath, giving him a serious look that he can only partially reciprocate.

“No laughing.”

“It’s… Mr. Cuddles.”Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to keep his promise. You melt inside both from embarrassment and from the way it only further defines an already superbly sculpted bone structure. “Do not.”

Spencer scoffs at your warning. “Don’t what? I’m behaving.”

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Cuddles!”

“Does it look like I’m making fun of him?”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her. Mr. Cuddles is a girl.”

“I see… can you explain that to me?”

“If a human person said I am a girl and I would like you to call me Mister, would you question that? Would you ask them to explain it to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Exactly. Don’t be rude.”The way Spencer is looking at you now, eyes so clear and still so full of affection, like you’ve got some sort of heavenly spotlight trained on you, lips parted as if to say something but still silent, has you forgetting your momentary confidence. You shrink. “What?”

“I just… you’re amazing.” You throw Mr. Cuddles at his chest and fall into your pile of pillows with a groan. Spencer only continues rubbing your leg. It’s very nice, actually. He’s gentle. And patient. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you came to this conclusion just because I introduced you to my stuffed animals.”

“Not solely because of that. There are a lot of contributing factors. I mean, the stuffed animal thing helped.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you insist for the umpteenth time.

“It’s adorable.”

Spencer pushes pillows aside and lies next to you so you’re eye to eye. It’s nice how his presence isn’t exhausting the way people sometimes are. He’s easy to exist with. He makes you enjoy existing a little more than usual. Even now.

You raise your eyebrows and speak, cheek squished against fabric. “I’m a serious adult.”

“I know you are,” he assures with a solemn nod.

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Okay… well… don’t go forgetting that. I’m fun but I can also be not fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t. You would hate it. You’d be so scared.”

Spencer gives up on holding back a smile and moves his hand to tuck hair behind your ear.

“You’re right. I’m already terrified. The anticipation… it’s killing me, you know?”

You’re giggling as you roll over on top of him and he roots his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a long, smiley kiss like he knew it was coming. Only when he blindly throws your stuffed friends from the bed do you pull away—just by an inch or so.

“No respect,” you scold playfully. He kisses you again, tangling your legs and hands wandering.

“Can I apologize later?”

You’re good with that.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader

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reiderwriter · 9 months ago

Text

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read.

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward.

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading.

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it.

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one.

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently.

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you.

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.”

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.”

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!”

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now.

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down.

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced.

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate.

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-”

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?”

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area.

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room.

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza.

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone.

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long.

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that.

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him.

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light.

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night.

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you.

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried.

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep.

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing.

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both.

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted.

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily.

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed.

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you.

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid.

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for.

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted.

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life.

He was screwed.

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so.

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination.

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass.

Screwed supreme.

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took.

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature.

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you.

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.”

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you.

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd.

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable.

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?”

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye.

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you.

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you.

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.”

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time.

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted.

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you.

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else.

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door.

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary.

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today”

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.”

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.”

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him.

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you.

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief.

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release.

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again.

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name.

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over.

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy.

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off.

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you.

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation.

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious.

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing.

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths.

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier.

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more.

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over.

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth.

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in.

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.”

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe.

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won.

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you.

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time.

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake.

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey.

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down.

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again.

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously.

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now.

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again.

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back.

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock.

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs.

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that.

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss.

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.”

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it eliciting a small whimper of frustration.

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close.

“You were avoiding me.”

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting.

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.”

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations.

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds smut #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #cmkinkbingo2024

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the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

Note

Hiiii 🤭

Hopping here to request a Reader x Ekko where they're just two love birds and R sneaks into his "office" because she just missed him :( and then one thing leads to another and they're kinda carried away by each other.. that until duty calls up and R watches Ekko switching from loving future husband to the Leader of the Firelights

Love you!!!

Hihihi thank you sm bleaky for the idea!!! Another fic straight from our dms 🤭 I hope you like it, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, reader is a childhood friend turned lover, Firelight! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, no s2 spoiler, cw suggestive, FLUFF!

Navigation

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The hoverboard whirrs softly from under you, with the moonlight peeking through the leaves of the beloved tree, bathing you in its dappled silver glow. The breeze carries ashen smoke amidst the scent of sweet dew filled flowers.

You lean forward slightly, guiding the board gently towards the open window of the tree house where a certain someone is burning the midnight oil on his workbench. You perch yourself over the window, careful not to make any noise as you slither your way inside. Hopefully staying as a surprise for Ekko.

He felt you before he heard your grunt and the unmistakable sound of your head bumping on the windowsill. Smiling tiredly, he twists in his chair to look at you fondly while you cradle your poor head from the recent bump.

“You know I gave you a key for a reason.” You can practically hear his amusement from his tone.

“Where's the fun in that?” You chuckle, palm patting at the blooming headache. “I thought I'd surprise you.”

Ekko roams his eyes over you as your smirk grows wider with every second he ogles you. “I think you forgot the surprise.” He points at your empty hands, tilting his head to the side in case you've got something hidden behind you.

“Ekko, I'm the surprise.” You wink at him, arms raised to your sides in a ‘here I am’ gesture. He shakes his head with a smile, watching you as you saunter towards him. “You should be asleep.” Your hand finds its place on his cheek, he looks up at you, eyes soft under the warm light of the desk lamp. He leans against your touch, lamenting at the way you gently scratch at his nape. “You can do this once you get some rest. Your board will still be here tomorrow.”

He swears he can fall asleep with your tender touch and voice lulling him to slumber. “I can't,” he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you to return his attention towards his board that glows softly with green light. “we have something planned early tomorrow.”

Your heart softens for him and his determination. “Am I part of that something something?” Sitting down on his desk, far enough to give him space to work but close enough for you to poke his leg with your foot.

“Not this time,” he glances at you, finding you huffing in place as he screws in the blades tightly. “You still got that shoulder thing.”

“This shoulder thing is alright now.” He raises a brow at you, head shaking lightly. You sigh, surrendering. “Fine, it's acting up again, but it's technically better.” Ekko hums in reply, elbow deep inside the hoverboard. “Kind of. Can I at least help? I don't like feeling useless.”

His hand cups your knee, thumbs tracing swirls on your skin. You can feel how warm his hand is from under his glove. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?” Smirking, he pats you once before returning his hand back to his work as you pout and huff at him. “And you're never useless. You're still healing, trouble. I don't want you getting hurt out there because of a busted shoulder.” A flash of you falling off your board with a sickening crunch fills his vision with dread. He turns towards you fully, tapping his wrench on the wooden table, and gentle eyes softening up at your features. “You'll have your time, I promise.”

You nod, watching as the green hue flickers over his concerned face. “Okay, but you owe me.” You cross your leg over the other while he smiles and turns towards his machine again.

“How many IOUs is that now?” He asks, glancing between you and the board.

You nudge him with your foot, “too many, Ekko.” You say his name with a sing-song lilt, effectively taking his attention. “What?” With a teasing smile, he stares at you wordlessly.

“You're distracting me.” His eyes follows the curve of your jaw up to your lips. Heart stuck in his throat, and eyes glued onto the soft skin. He lays his tools down. Abandoning it immediately.

“Oh,” your shoulders slump slightly. “I'll leave, just get some sleep, okay?” Hopping down, Ekko stops you with his hand on your thigh. “You need something?” You place your hand above his own as he squeezes you.

“Yeah, sit back down for me?” He says it seriously, as if he needs to talk to you about something important.

You straighten up, following his instructions. The desk creaks under your form, and as you wait for his very important words, he stands up from his seat, kicking it away before cradling your face gently in his gloved hands. The rough fabric sits on your cheek, but his touch is softer as he gazes at you with those eyes you've always loved ever since you two were still running around playing pretend.

“Now you're the one distracting me.” You whisper, index looping around his overalls to pull him towards you. Placing him in between your legs, as he leans forward with his head tilted slightly to find the perfect angle of your lips. “What were you saying, Ekko?” Teasing, he inhales deeply, lips merely an inch from your own.

“Let me…?” He says before you crash your lips against his own, answering his cut off question. Your eyes close as he smiles, mirroring your expression. You both kiss in sync, hearts beating in the same pace.

You hear him chuckle softly as your lips fall into a medley of rhythm with his desperate kisses. The kiss runs deep and long, teeth clashing, noses meeting, and hands caressing every angle of you as your own hands roam up his bare and lean arms, until you find penchant on the back of his head. Fingers weaved around his hair, not pulling away, no, pushing him further against you as the air grows hotter around you with every breath you take.

You're home in his arms. And all you can think about is him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your slightly agaped lips, leaning away for a moment to take in air and to remove his gloves to feel you fully.

You stare at him through half lidded eyes, cheeks searing hot and stomach throbbing with ache. “Yeah...” Your voice is shaky at best, legs wrapping around him whilst your chest heaves.

Just as you say it, he meets with your lips once again, taking your breath away as you give it willingly. This time it's softer and gentler as he kisses you tenderly. Your head hits the wall with how much he's kissing you, so with his palm sliding behind your head, he cushions you from the blow as he continues to kiss you fervently as if he hasn't gotten a taste of you in years.

“Ekko.” You sigh out as he kisses the curve of your lips, tracing its shape with his own. “Ekko.” Your tone grows breathlessly as he slowly makes his way towards your throat. “Ekko—” His lips were just about meeting with your warm skin when a knock interrupts you both. “Shit.”

“Damn it.” He murmurs, chest heaving, pupils blown out as he gives you one quick kiss against the side of your neck. Definitely not the final one.

You pat his cheek with a lopsided smile, thumb brushing along his kiss bitten lips, wiping away the sheen you've left. Ekko pecks your thumb before moving away from you. He fixes your rumpled shirt, just as you notice that you've smudged the white hourglass paint on his face. Whoops.

“Ekko, you've got…” you gesture towards his nose, trying to tamp down your laughter.

His blown out eyes widens, lungs still trying to intake oxygen from the strenuous activity. His nose scrunches up when he sees you having the same smudged paint on your face. Smile tamped down by biting his lip.

He looks behind you, where a small mirror is hanging just beside your head. He sees himself looking disheveled, hair sticking all over the place, face paint smudged into an odd shape.

Chuckling, the knocking grows louder. “I've got you, don't worry. I won't let your reputation get tarnished.” You take a handkerchief from your pocket, effectively wiping away the smudged mess on his face as much as you can.

“Did you get it?” He's still breathless when he asked.

“And…there. I've got them all.” You get a thankful peck on your cheek for a job well done.

But before he could move away from you, he takes the handkerchief in his hand to wipe at your (his) own smudged face paint. He tucks the fabric away in his pocket, maybe you'll come looking for it one day, effectively giving you an excuse to come visit him sooner rather than later.

Ekko now moves away, clearing his throat but the evidence of your shared previous activity is still evident on how much he inhales and how his hands are so clammy that he can water the tree with the sweat on his palms.

“C–come in.” He curses under his breath at how his voice cracked at the start. The door squeaks open, revealing his right hand man, Scar, waiting at the doorway.

His golden eyes glance at you, Ekko hides your equally disheveled form with his body, blocking your obviously kissed lips and your rumpled clothes. Scar raises a knowing brow, eyes speaking a thousand words.

“Hi, Y/N.” He says gruffly, lips subtly curled into a smirk. You wave shyly above Ekko, afraid that you'd let out incoherent words while you're still reeling from his warmth. “I can come back later.”

Ekko’s seriously considering it. “Is it important?”

“Everything's important with you Ekko.” Scar's eyes turn towards you with the word ‘important.’

Ekko sighs, slightly disappointed. “Right, what happened?”

His whole demeanor changes into what most people would think when they hear about the notorious leader of the firelights. His posture straightens up, and the air around him oozes authority. The man in front of you isn't just Ekko, your love and confidant, he's Ekko, the feared leader of the firelights, and the boy saviour. But you can still see his previous sweetness from how his eyes still smile when he remembers your soft lips upon his own. He's still your Ekko through and through.

“It's the chem barons, they blew out an entire building.” Scar briefs him, and you read the room as their conversation grows more serious.

If you listen to any more, you'd want to join in so you decide to leave before you could give your two cents like always. Ekko was right, your shoulder wouldn't help much with a full blown fight. So you're just gonna stay away, for now at least, until you're fully healed to be of help. For his sanity and your wellbeing.

You take a deep breath, still heaving from his kisses, hopping down from the table even with your wobbly legs. Ekko looks at you in the middle of the conversation, hand reaching out in case you fall down. Scar watches with amusement at the scene in front of him.

“I'm good,” you say quietly only for Ekko to hear. “We'll continue this later, okay?” You say louder this time for both of them to hear. With a wink, and a hand grazing his back, you leave him standing there, aghast at what you've blatantly said.

His own mind betrays him at how *later could go. Ekko has to hold onto the chair next to him to stabilize himself lest he melts in front of Scar, who's absolutely trying to reel his laughter in that he's about to pop a vein on his forehead from how hard he's trying.

As you close the door behind you, you hear his booming laughter and Ekko's unmistakable groaning behind the door.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#request done #the kr8tor's creations #ekko x reader #ekko arcane #arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #ekko imagines #ekko fanfic #ekko fanfiction #ekko x you #ekko x fem! reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane x reader #ekko arcane x reader #ekko fluff #arcane fluff #x reader #fanfiction

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specshroom · 1 year ago

Text

•The Queen of Curses•

Part 1 / Part 2

(Ok So think of this as like a Sukuna wins and everyone dies AU lol. True form! Sukuna. Added the cursed blood bath for no reason. Suggestive, titty stuff but that's it, MDNI, She/her reader, no use of Y/N)

Sukuna didn't rein over the Heian Era alone. It was always him and his lover, burning and slaughtering together. Their love for eachother was well known across the land. People knew not to be fooled by her less intimidating looks (in comparison to her husband) for she was just as brutal and heartless as he.

All that changed when sorcerers from the era used all they're combined might to seal the Curse Queen inside a small cursed object, formed only from the combined sacrificed corpses of their comrades.

They knew that the only way to defeat the King and Queen was to separate them and they succeeded. After hearing of the fate of his lover Sukuna flew into a blind rage leading to his own defeat at the hands of the same sorcerers.

One thousand years of relative peace passed with the two lovers separated but still yearning for each other.

Luckily for the lovers, the ever devoted Uraume never stopped looking for a way to set their masters free. After centuries of searching and begrudgingly accepting a little help from Kenjaku, they finally found the cursed object that their Queen had been trapped in, a simple orb a little bigger than a tennis ball. It made Uraume's stomach turn thinking of such a powerful force being shoved into such a small thing. They carried the black orb with them everywhere while continuing the plot to releasing Sukuna. They found themselves whispering to it, compelled by the obsidian globe. They didn't know if their master could hear but they felt like it was right, like they could almost sense their masters overwhelming aura, compelling them to spill out everything they know. So Uraume spoke to it quite a lot, telling the dark orb and the beast inside about Sukuna's fate, about the new world, about Kenjaku and the plan to free her and her lover.

The plan that finally comes to fruition. Sukuna is freed, his true form is restored in all its glory and hes wreaked havoc on most of Shibuya just as a warm up. Uraume kneels before him.

"Master Sukuna."

They say bowing their head.

"Hmm?"

Sukuna hums an acknowledgement, eyeing them with contempt.

Uraume brings the dark crystal like ball out of their loose robes and holds it up, presenting it to their king. "Now, with your power fully restored we can release the Queen from her containment."

Sukuna stares at the ball in the sorcerers hand and gestures for Uraume to give it to him. He holds it as gently as his colossal hand is able to. It seems to get hotter in his hand, so hot it would surely sear the skin of a mortal. He pears into the orb only seeing his reflection in it, the Curse king nods to Uraume. He places it on the ground and they both step back, arms reaching out towards the orb on the ground.

In unison they both let out powerful blasts of cursed energy aiming right at the cursed seal. Strong streams of power, one white hot and the other pearcing cold, the orb starts to crack emitting a glowing white light. "It's breaking! Don't stop!" Sukuna orders and Uraume grunts but dutifully follows orders. The cracks grow wider and the light shines brighter before it's too blinding and they both cover their eyes as a powerful blast pierces the air.

In the settling dust stands a figure that's all too familiar to the both of them. They both watch as the figure shifts, leaning back and stretching their arms above their head, releasing a groan that is appropriate for someone who hasn't been able to move much in a thousand years. When the woman finally turns to Sukuna she sighs and smiles, letting out a relieved huff. Sukuna grins triumphantly and opens all four of his arms expecting a tide of thankful affection from his lover. When she takes the first few steps towards him her smile starts to waver until it's down to a grimace. Sukuna tenses as her eyes darken. He opens his mouth to ask what's the matter as she walks up to him and-

*SLAP*

Silence envelops the already desolate atmosphere. Sukuna's head is turned to the side, his eyes wide. He blinks before glaring at the offender with a look that could kill. She stares up at him with eyes just as deadly.

"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME IN THAT FUCKING BALL FOR SO LONG!!?"

Sukuna stares with his mouth open for a second genuinely shocked into silence until that second is over and he responds with equal vitriol.

" HUH?! THAT WAS YOUR OWN FAULT WOMEN! DONT BE UNGRATEFUL!"

The two fiery curses glare at each other with such violent intent, the very air around them heats up.

"WHAT KIND OF SHITTY HUSBAND ALLOWS HIS OWN WIFE TO GET SEALED!"

"YOU CAN'T BLAME ME FOR THAT! DIDN'T I JUST SET YOU FREE?"

"DONT TAKE ALL THE CREDIT YOU BASTARD! URAUME'S THE ONE WHO-"

As if the women just remembered that the other sorcerer exists, she turns around and there her loyal subject is, kneeling in her presence.

" Welcome back master, it's good to see you"

The woman's face brightens up immediately, "Uraume~" She sings running up to the sorcerer and lifting them into a bone crushing hug that would've killed a lesser being. "Oh, Thank you Uraume. My dutiful subject, you did so good." The Curse Queen coos at the sorcerer, squishing their face into her chest and stroking their duel coloured hair. Uraume doesn't hug back as to be respectful of their superior but they don't push back either, just letting their master man-handle (woman-handle?) them.

Sukuna clicks his tongue at the show of affection and crosses two of his massive arms over his chest. No doubt in disbelief that HIS wife doesn't embrace HIM first after a thousand years spent apart.

The wife in question turns to him with Uraume still in her arms, an irritated look on her face.

"What's your problem?"

"My problem is that MY wife is being an ungrateful bitch."

The benevolent woman stills and Uraume peers up at her from their place, nestled into the cleavage of her loose fitting kimono. The woman sets Uraume down onto the ground gently. She breathes a heavy sigh and in less that a second she's on Sukuna throwing a mass of red hot cursed energy right into his face. He blocks it in time and is able to keep blocking her continuous fast attacks. She gets frustrated and lets out a powerful blast that shakes the earth and forces him to jump back to avoid the blast.

She laughs with relief, finally being able to let out all that pent up cursed energy feels amazing. Her tattoos (similar to Sukuna's but not quite the same) almost seem to glow with the immense energy output being let off from her body. Only the tattoos on her face, neck and wrists are visible but Sukuna knows very well what the rest looks like, having traced every inch of ink with his fingers.

Sukuna takes the opportunity while she's distracted by the pure euphoria of letting her energy loose and comes barreling towards her, she can't react before he tackles her to the ground. He pins her hands down with two of his hands and another goes to roughly grab her jaw.

"Does it feel good to finally let off some steam, Baby?"

The king of curses teasingly remarks from above her.

"Baby? That's new." She questions with a teasing grin. Her words are a bit slurred from the way her husband is holding her jaw.

"Might as well get with the times." He bites back with an even more cocksure grin. She scratches and kicks at him and bites at his hand. With all her concentration she channels the sheer amount of pent up cursed energy in her body and lets it burst out in a deafening blast that knocks Sukuna off of her. Static reverberates in the air.

In the few seconds it takes for him to recover she takes the opportunity to pounce on him pinning him to the ground. Grinning from her place above him her heavy breaths and beating heart match his. Her crazy, alert eyes meet four others with the same sentiment.

"I missed you so fucking much." Sukuna says before he pulls her by her robes into a deep kiss. The kiss is somehow aggressive and sensual.

Two of Sukuna's massive hands go to her waist and thigh holding her body to his as he sits up. The third hand is on the floor for balance and the last is tangled in her hair pressing her further into the kiss, as if that's even possible. Both Cursed beings are glad that they don't need to breath or else they surely would have suffocated each other by now.

The queen of curses has never been more pleased by the fact that her husband doesn't seem to know what a shirt is. Sukuna has voiced many times that he wished his wife shared the same sentiments only for her to scoff at the suggestion, although, now she thinks the idea is one of the best he's ever had.

They fight for dominance with their tongues. Still locked in the passionate sloppy kiss the woman unlatches her hands from his hair to slip off the robes she was wearing over a loose fitting kimono. She unwraps the black accented white Kimono, rather slowly in sukunas opinion to let her breasts fall free to the warm air.

Sukuna releases his mouth from hers, licking his spit slicked lips to stare down at his beautiful wife's beautiful tits.

"Yeah, remember these are mine. Only mine." Sukuna grumbles lowly before smooshing his face right between them, sighing deeply like a thousand year old itch has finally been scratched.

"Aww, is Ryō a little jealous?" The woman preens in a patronising manner while lightly stroking his fluffy hair.

"Poor baby~" She coos, repeating the pet name he used for her. Her teasing only gets a glare and a growl from the beast of a man currently buried in her tits, holding her impossibly closer to his face.

She chuckles down at him, a loving yet menacing look in her eyes.

"Well maybe I should let Uraume- where did they go?"

She looks around the scorched city landscape looking for her white haired subordinate and as if they heard her words summoning them they appear with a respectful bow.

"I have made the preparations for your bath."

"Thank you, Uraume~"

The woman beams and turns to the man who is still occupied with her tits, he's now picked a tit to suckle on, fondling the other in his rough hand.

"come now Ryo, it's time for our bath." She says curtly and the man groans with his mouth full, absolutely dreading even the idea of his tongue leaving the hardened nipple he's been sucking on. If the two objects poking her ass are any indication if it was up to him they would never get to the blood bath Uraume so kindly set up for them.

She tries standing up and pulling away but the man is latched on tightly, all four arms clutching around her as if they never want to be an inch apart from her again. The more she struggles the bigger the two chubs in his pants grow. She sighs and struggles once more.

"Uraume planned this out very nicely for us, Ryomen. Just do what I say Damnit!"

She pulls at his hair and he bites down on her tit in response, earning a yelp and a harsh smack on the head from her. He laughs, not with the mouth on her tit but with the mouth on his stomach. She peers down at it, as if she just remembered it's there. Without wasting more time she grabs the large tongue crushing it with her grip and tugging on it hard.

Sukuna releases her tit to yell out in pain.

"OW, WOMAN! You should be grateful for every ounce of attention I give you! OW!"

As Sukuna rages, she snorts and jumps out of his now loosened arms. Turning her back to him, she approaches the other sorcerer who's head is still bowed.

"Uraume, would you kindly show me to my bath?"

"Of course, Master"

Uraume stands and bows their head. Holding out their arm for their Queen.

She holds onto Uraume's arm, purposely squishing her still exposed breasts into the sorcerer's side as she smiles down at them.

"I guess we'll have the bath all to ourselves then, Uraume~"

Uraume closes their eyes with a knowing smile and nods in response, very accustomed to the games the two lovers would play with each other, often forcing them right in the middle. Their Queen would often promise that she'd one day make Uraume flustered, something that to this day has yet to occur.

The sorcerer doesn't even flinch at their powerful master fawning over them, stroking their arm and pressing her now marked up tits closer into them as the two walk off towards the bath Uraume prepared.

"HEY!! WHAT THE HELL!?? URAUME!"

Sukuna sits in disbelief at his wife's antics. As if he's only now remembering what a tease she is and has always been.

His wife looks back at him over her shoulder, she shrugs her kimono off her shoulder, exposing her tattooed shoulder to him before turning back to Uraume snickering.

Sukuna huffs and grins, shaking his head. He's so fucking happy to have his wife back.

(AN: I was originally planning to make this smut but... It just got away from me😭😭 sooo... Maybe in a part two? 👀👀)

#this art of Sukuna will live in my head forever now btw #Uraume my beloved #jjk x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna scenarios #jjk smut #jjk sukuna #true form sukuna #uraume #uraume x reader #queen of curses

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aperrywilliams · 8 months ago

Text

My Lover Boy (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Request: "Can you write something super angsty, like the reader and Spencer have something going on, but technically, they're just friends, and then everything with Lila Archer happens? She's sad but tries not to show it to him, and he is mad at himself for getting with Lila. Derek is teasing him, and it's super angsty, but it all ends up okay."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You think something is going on with Spencer, something beyond friendship. But you start to question it when a case in LA pushes Spencer to spend time with Lila Archer.

Word Count: 4.6k

TW: Angst with a happy ending. Use of some strong words. Some suggestive comments. Mention of having sex. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Thanks for the request! Keep sending them to me.

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"Hey, did you get something?" You ask Spencer when he returns to the precinct. He and Gideon were at a gallery open to obtain information for the case you are working on in LA.

Spencer shrugs. "Not really. They all were more interested in photos and the press."

"Celebrities," you huff playfully, and Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Something like that," Spencer agrees.

"I'm going to grab some coffee. Do you want some?" You offer, standing from where you were checking the case folders.

"Sure," Spencer accepts, sitting and grabbing a folder for himself to inspect. You pass by him and squeeze his shoulders in a gentle gesture, subtly kissing his head.

"I'll be right back," you murmur before leaving the room.

Things with Spencer have been kind of odd for a while. Sure, you still are coworkers and friends, but ultimately, it is like you both are getting to terms with the idea that something else is going on. You don't know what it is really, and neither of you has sat to talk about it.

Why? Lack of time, maybe? Fear of being misreading the signals? Both?

Whatever it is, you have been acting like nothing is happening, although you almost kissed after a bar outing two weeks ago. You would have if Morgan hadn't called Spencer when you were about to kiss outside your apartment.

After the interruption, neither of you brought up the topic again.

Now you are stuck in LA, trying to solve a case involving celebrity killings. So, of course, the media and the locals have been nailing your asses for answers.

There is no time for anything else but to try to catch the unsub as soon as possible. Hotch asked you to narrow the unsub comfort zone. It's a task that's usually assigned to Spencer, but Hotch has him tracking information from one of the possible unsub's targets: Lila Archer, an actress with a promising career ahead.

"Pretty boy now has the best assignment in this case," Derek sighs as he slumps into one of the chairs in the meeting room.

Elle and you scoff at his dramatics. Morgan points an accusing finger at you.

"If you have seen her, I'm sure you would agree with me."

Neither of you pays too much attention to Derek's tantrum and keeps working instead.

It's almost night, and when Hotch returns to the precinct with Gideon and no Spencer in sight, you raise an eyebrow.

"Where is the genius?" Elle asks.

"With Miss Archer. We need to keep an eye on her, and Reid has the rapport already," Hotch explains before asking for your progress in the task you were assigned.

How does Spencer suddenly become a bodyguard? You don't know, but don't question it. You assume Hotch knows what he's doing.

An hour later, Garcia calls, saying the cameras at Lila's property show a strange person wandering around. The fact Spencer is not answering his phone makes everyone flock out of the police station, and all of you think the unsub is trying to get into the house.

What if the unsub is already inside and hurt Spencer? Shit, you are a nervous wreck, although you try to mask it to the rest of the team.

When arriving at the house, Hotch split everyone: Morgan and Elle are assigned to the front. Hotch and you take the backyard. Gideon, with the patrols, canvass the main street.

As you approach, your heart beats faster and faster. With your gun aimed, you're ready for anything but the fact you hear laughing coming from the pool.

You are covering Hotch's back, and he is as confused as you after opening the gate.

You both see Lila getting out of the pool in a fit of laughs and Spencer, entirely clothed, inside the pool.

"Are you okay, Miss Archer?" Hotch asks, holstering his gun and checking the surroundings with his gaze.

"Oh, Agent Hotchner. I didn't know you were coming," she mentions casually, wrapping a towel around her torso.

Realizing danger isn't imminent, you holster your gun, too, and reach a hand to help Spencer.

"What the hell happened?" You ask him as you take in his drenched clothes and wet gun resting at the edge of the pool. Spencer doesn't look at you, only mumbling, "I fell."

Well, weird but not implausible, considering Spencer isn't the best-coordinated man in the world.

You help him, grabbing a towel from a chair and handing it to him. You take his gun and remove the bullets from the soaked chamber.

You want to know more about the whole situation, but before you have the chance to ask Spencer, you see Derek, Elle, and Gideon coming.

Finally, the alert came from a paparazzi who was around the house and wanted to take photographs of Lila. And regarding the pool? Lila said that she wanted a dip, and unfortunately, Dr. Reid tripped and fell.

No one says anything about it, but the looks Elle and Derek give Spencer catch your attention, as does the way Spencer avoids talking to you until you are called to return to the precinct.

Despite the incident, Lila insists Spencer stay as you continue investigating the evidence.

So you all come back to the station, minus Spencer.

You don't know why Elle instructs you to check the camera roll recovered from the paparazzi, but there you are, in a dark room, revealing what could be pieces of evidence.

What you do not expect is the kind of images that are showing before your eyes: Spencer and Lila Archer making out in the pool.

What-the-fuck?

Now, the scene you found when you arrived at the place with Hotch makes a little more sense. Spencer was entirely soaked while Lila, with a smug expression, walked into the house with a towel around her torso.

You don't know what reaction comes first. But you can recognize the deception and the way your heart shatters into a million pieces.

They were kissing. In the pool. At night. Like nothing is happening around them.

You have been working your ass to catch an unsub, and the doctor is enjoying himself with a movie star. In addition, they lied about the whole ordeal.

The tears pool in your eyes, but you are fighting not to let them fall. Not here. Not for Spencer. Not for anyone.

Why bother, anyway? You are just friends.

What? Will you ask him for an explanation?

It's not your place, even if you thought something was going on between you both.

How stupid you are. You don't stand a chance with him. Spencer only sees you as friend material.

With the entire film revealed, you shove the photos into a manila folder and leave the dark room.

Elle raises an eyebrow when she spots you walking toward her. You throw the folder over the table.

"Here's what you asked me for," you say in a harsh tone before turning around and walking out of the precinct. Elle doesn't say anything and doesn't need to open the folder to know what's going on.

When the team moves to Lila's house again a few hours later, already knowing who the unsub is, you stay behind in connection to Garcia to coordinate at the police station. You don't need to be there again.

You won't get exposed to see Spencer and Lila together.

Early in the morning, with the killer in custody and Lila Archer safe, you are ready to come back to Virginia.

During the flight, you seclude yourself in the farthest seat, headphones on and eyes closed. It works. No one disturbs you.

But you fail to notice Spencer's eyes on you the entire time.

After touching down, Hotch gathers you in the office to do the debriefing when you only want to go home.

Spencer tries to talk to you a few times, but you slip away from him every time, using whatever excuse not to speak.

Finally, Hotch officially closes the case and sends you home with two days off. Without saying goodbye to anyone, and with your heart broken, you run out of the BAU.

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Spencer looks for you when he exits the conference room, but you're already gone. His guts tell him something happened to you, and he is worried. Usually, you're open to talking to him, and with this thing going on between you both, Spencer doesn't know how to ask you about it. But even if he wants to do that, he needs to have you in the same room first.

And that will only happen once you are back at the BAU in two days.

He thinks maybe he should go to your place but refrains from the idea. Perhaps you're just tired, and he doesn't want to make it worse.

He doesn't know you sulked in your apartment the entire time, and when you all return to work two days later, you are not still talking to him.

Spencer trails behind you like a lost puppy. He tries to make some conversation with you every chance he gets, but you avoid him like the plague. Spencer still doesn't know why you're acting so cold with him, so he goes to someone who might know: Elle.

Spencer walks to her desk, ready to get some kind of answers.

"What is it, Reid?" Elle asks without looking at him. Spencer clears his throat.

"Do you know if something happened to her?" he questions, referring to you. Elle rolls her eyes in annoyance before lifting her gaze to him.

"Are you kidding me right now, Reid?"

Spencer frowns in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Huffing, Elle digs through the stack of folders on her desk, pulls out the one with the photos you developed, and passes it on to Spencer.

"Serve yourself, genius."

Spencer proceeds to check what is inside, and his cheeks immediately start to burn.

"She - she saw these?" Spencer stutters. Elle pulls a face.

"If she saw these? She developed the camera roll and gave these to me."

Spencer wants to die. It makes perfect sense, but that means he screwed it up.

"Why did she do that?! I mean, no one else could have done it?"

"I asked her to," Elle says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why did you do that?!" Spencer squeals.

It doesn't matter why, but he still can't believe you saw everything. Spencer knows it was wrong to kiss Lila back, but for him, it didn't mean anything. His heart already belongs to you, even if he hasn't told you yet.

"What did I know that she would find out photos of you and Lila sucking each other's faces? I thought there were only pictures of Miss Startlet swimming and you stupidly falling into the pool. Isn't that you told me happened?"

Spencer Reid has rarely been left speechless, but this is one of them. A mixture of shame, regret, and anger at himself makes his stomach churn, and he wants to dig a hole to disappear.

He needs to explain to you what happened. But how could he approach the subject? You and Spencer are friends in the first place, and he didn't tell you what really happened in that pool. You had to see it for yourself in those pictures.

And thinking about your 'situationship' makes it even worse.

Spencer leaves Elle's desk, thinking about what to say and looking for the best moment to talk to you. But luck isn't by his side: in mid-morning, Hotch announced there is a case.

At least it's local this time.

In the afternoon, he spots you walking alone in one of the hallways. It's now or never, he thinks.

"(Y/N), wait!"

Hearing your name, you reluctantly turn only to see Spencer jogging to catch up with you. You want to turn again and leave, but it won't be subtle if you do that.

"What is it, Spencer? There is something about the case?" You ask flatly. Spencer knows you know it isn't about the case, but he has to assume you don't.

"I - uh. No. It's not the case. I - I just want to make sure you are okay?" His voice is wary, and the fidgeting of his hands is a tale-telling that he's nervous.

"I'm okay. I'm great, actually," you say, faking cheerfulness. Your patience runs thin, and Spencer isn't helping.

He frowns, knowing what you are doing.

"Don't be like that. I really wanted to make sure you are okay," he mumbles shyly. You cross your arms over your chest—a defiant look in your eyes.

"And why I wouldn't, uh? Something bad happened to me? There is a single reason why I shouldn't be okay?"

Spencer contemplates his response for a second. How does he say it in a way that does not sound self-centered?

"I don't know. You haven't talked to me since the last case in LA."

Spencer opts to bring up the obvious and let the overwhelming evidence out of this for now.

"And that bothers you?" You ask in a disbelief tone.

Spencer knows this isn't working.

Damn to his inability to lead meaningful interactions when he needs to.

"Yes! I mean, we - we're friends. You can tell me if something is going on."

The friend card. Spencer thinks it's the safest approach. But he's wrong. You laugh humorlessly.

"Honestly, Spencer? I don't know if we are friends anymore."

Your tone tries to be cold, but behind it, there is a tiny wavering you try to suppress at all costs.

"What? Why are you saying that?"

That's the limit Spencer reaches and pushes you to snap.

"Because friends don't lie to each other! When I asked you what happened at Lila's house, you lied to me!"

Spencer gulps because he knows you are right.

That is what he needed to say first, and not have to wait until you were who threw it at him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, gazing at his feet.

And then again, the guilt, the embarrassment.

Why did he do it? He isn't attracted to Lila. Why did he kiss her back?

"Yeah, me too. But you know? I'm glad. I'm glad you finally found someone and that now I know where I stand."

It hurts you to say the words. Spencer can see the crack in your demeanor, and he is the one to blame.

"What? No! No, I'm not- I didn't find someone," he chimes in an attempt to clear this up. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't? I saw the pictures, Spencer. I developed them myself. I know what I saw."

"She kissed me!" Spencer exclaims, trying to get afloat because he feels he's drowning.

"So what? If that's the case, you kissed her back!" You spat, angry at the lame explanation coming from Spencer's mouth.

"It was a mistake! I shouldn't have done that! You have to believe me."

Spencer tries to take hold of your hand, but you don't let him, yanking your arm and keeping your distance from him.

"Why do you think it's a mistake? Uh? She's pretty, almost famous, she's into you. I don't think it is," you start, and Spencer frowns. "What I can't understand is why you didn't tell me the truth before I could find out from those goddamn photos. What did you expect? That I would criticize you? What would bother me about your love adventures in Hollywood? You said it yourself: we're just friends."

"(Y/N), please," Spencer tries to get to you but is to no avail.

"It's your fucking life, Spencer. Do what you want with it! But let me out of it."

Without another word, you storm out to who knows where but far away from him.

Spencer knows he fucked up big this time. And his attempt at apology made things only worse.

He didn't see you for the rest of the case. Spencer assumed you secluded yourself in Garcia's office.

From his spot at his desk, he can only see Elle's disapproving look.

There is no reasonable reason for what he did, and that consumes Spencer's brain. He doesn't like Lila. He has been pining for you long enough to be sure he loves you.

'Men are men,' Elle usually says when Derek brags about his conquests. Spencer always felt proud of not being that way. And what happens when a pretty actress jumps at him? He goes with it. Elle is right, then. He is like any other man.

The question is if he will do something to gain your trust - and affection - back. How can he fix this?

------------

A whole week has passed since the case in LA. The BAU looks pretty much the same as always, if not for the fact you only talk to Spencer when it is strictly necessary. The team doesn't pick up much of it, though. Only Elle knows what's going on, but she won't pester you with questions or unrequited advice.

Spencer is doing nothing extra to call your attention, although you can feel his eyes on you sometimes during the day. But you assume he got your message, and he'll go on with his life.

The problem is you can't bring yourself to do the same. You know your chances with Spencer are a past thing, but your heart still doesn't get the memo. And you try, really try to be neutral, professional, and collected. It works in the majority because nobody asks questions or refers to what happened in LA.

But the state of 'everything is fine' in you is fragile, and you know that.

It's Friday afternoon, and everyone wants to end their reports to go finally home. You see Spencer from the corner of your eyes. He is deep-writing in what you assume are the details from the last case. Elle is doing the same. You are trying to focus on your work, but the tiredness makes you go slower than you want.

Suddenly, the glass doors open to reveal a grinning Derek Morgan walking straight to Spencer's desk with something under his arm. It looks like a newspaper.

"Hey, lover boy!" Derek claps Spencer's back with a shit-eaten smirk plastered on his face. Spencer looks up at Derek with a frown. "Don't look at me like that Casanova. You are the one who didn't tell me about your little something with Miss Starlet."

Morgan places a newspaper he's carrying on Reid's desk. The cover is a photo of him making out with Lila Archer.

"W- what?" Spencer stutters as his cheeks redden. His eyes quickly move from the newspaper to find yours, and you only want to disappear. Averting his gaze, you try to focus again on the file you are reading. Elle rolls her eyes from her desk.

"My man! You slept with her that night, didn't you?"

"Morgan, stop," Spencer pleads, but Derek doesn't relent, even when the air in the room becomes way thick in instants.

"You can tell me! Is she good? I bet she is-"

"Morgan, no!" Spencer's high-pitched voice tries to make Morgan shut up.

"Come on, give me something pretty boy. She is wild in bed, doesn't she? How many hickeys did she leave on you?"

You actually cringe at Morgan's words. The sole idea of Lila and Spencer sleeping together makes you sick to your stomach.

You're about seconds to stand and get out.

Elle, who is observing the whole scenario - thing Derek doesn't - huffs in irritation.

"Why don't you and lover boy go to spill your gut about your sex life out of here? We are trying to work if you didn't notice."

Morgan frowns. Usually, Elle backs up his teasing to Spencer. But when he is about to say something again, you're - not so subtly - grabbing your things and storming out from the bullpen.

Your collected attitude goes out of the window.

All of them be damned, you think.

Spencer is standing right away to chase after you, leaving Morgan with a confused look, silently asking Elle what the hell just happened.

"I am only going to say that you are a total asshole, Derek Morgan," Elle states before returning to her files.

Meanwhile, you're pressing the elevator button, and you can feel Spencer rapidly nearing you.

“(Y/N)! Please, wait!"

When he's by your side, you intentionally look to another way.

"Not now, Spencer. Just let me go."

Just let me go. That statement has more meaning than the explicit one you're voicing.

"Morgan is only messing with me. I didn't sleep with her."

Spencer thinks blurting the truth will be enough to stop you from running away from him. But things are already more complicated than that.

"It doesn't matter, Spencer. Now, let me go."

Your insistence is more like an agonizing plea. You're so tired. There is no fight you want to engage in right now. You think you won this time when the elevator doors open, but it's short-lived as you see Spencer stepping inside as well.

"No! It does matter!"

The elevator doors close, and now only are you and him.

"Why? Uh? Why is it so important for you to tell me this?"

Your sudden raised voice takes Spencer aback. You're pissed off.

"Because - because it is the truth!" He defends.

And maybe he's right. Perhaps he didn't sleep with Lila, but your heart is already broken, and you only need space to get used to the idea and heal.

"Spencer. I already told you you don't owe me an explanation. Truth or not, it is not my business anyway."

Your tone is not angry but deflated, exhausted. Your gaze drops to the floor.

Spencer wants to scream; there is so much in his chest to say, but his brain doesn't cooperate in spilling something coherent.

"But I want it to be!" He decides to say, and he gets you to look at him again.

"What? are you talking about?"

"I want it - I want it to be your business," Spencer repeats, and you don't know what to say; you don't even know what he means.

The elevator dings and the door opens. You both stand there for a second, frozen after what looks like a confession. Or not. You're not sure.

"You don't know what you are saying," you mumble, deciding to move and pass him to walk into the parking garage.

"I know I should have said this before," Spencer continues walking after you. "I know I should have said something that night when we almost kissed. I regret I didn't."

You stop when he mentions that night. At this point, you thought he didn't care, and it didn't mean anything to him.

"Nothing happened that night," you say bitterly.

"But it should have. Don't tell me you didn't feel it," Spencer poses a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning away again. Your eyes fill with tears, but you're fighting not to let them fall.

"And what if I did? It doesn't change anything," you shrug, a painful look in your eyes.

"It does! Because I love you and I do really want to make it up to you. I want you back. I want to amend the hurt I caused you for my stupidity."

Did he say 'I love you'? That takes you aback.

"Spencer-"

"I know I messed up. I know it was stupid to kiss Lila back. It doesn't matter if she did it first or not; you're right. But believe me, it didn't mean anything to me because she was not you. She is not you and will never be."

"You're confusing things," you shake your head, still not giving credit to his confession.

"After our fight the other day, I really thought about stepping back and leaving you alone. I have been torturing myself all week trying to conceive a life without you on it, mourning the lost of our friendship, and above all, mourning the lost of the prospect of to be your person, and you to be mine."

You can't keep your tears at bay anymore, so you let them free. Spencer cups your cheeks, and you can see tears in his eyes, too.

"But I can't. I can't let you go. Not without telling you the truth. And if you don't feel the same, that's okay; I won't push any further, and I'll leave you alone."

You can't tell him that you don't feel the same way because that would be the biggest lie in the universe. You are also sure that you love him, and that is why this situation has broken you so much.

You blink away some of your tears as Spencer looks at you, trying to read the truth in you.

"I think I have been in love with you since ever," you blurt out, with a half sob and half chuckle. "And I felt so heartbroken seeing you kissing her, and now Derek comes suggesting-" you trail off.

"Hey, don't think about that. I messed up, and I didn't say anything earlier because, to me, it didn't mean anything. I'm so sorry," Spencer apologizes, running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe some of your tears.

"How can - how can we start over?" you ask him shyly but hopefully. Spencer hastens to reply.

"The way you want it. If you want time to think, or if you want us to go slow, we can do that. If you wish to, can we go on a date first? Officially, a date? We can do that," Spencer rambles, and you smile for real for the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, we can go on a date, officially a date," you concede, and Spencer can't contain his excitement. "But, can I ask you for something first?"

"Of course. Just name it," Spencer says as his hands rub your shoulders lovingly.

"Can you kiss me now?" You request, with the most faked innocent look you can muster, making Spencer laugh.

"I can do that," he nods, looking at you intensely, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. Then Spencer leans down, closing his eyes at midway. You wait with batted breath until finally, his lips softly touch yours.

It's a tentative, sweet kiss. Your arms go up Spencer's shoulders until they land on his neck. His hands fall to your hips to pull you closer as the kiss deepens. It's no longer exploratory; it's hungry, messy, passionate, and you couldn't have wanted it any other way. You're sure this kiss is a thousand times better than the one he had with Lila, and Spencer completely agrees with that assessment because it's you.

That makes it perfect.

It's the need for air that makes you part after a while.

"Wow," you both say at the same time, starting to laugh like teenagers and trying to catch your breath.

When the laugh subsides, you narrow your eyes in contemplation and Spencer's eyebrow furrow.

"What?" he asks, and you look at him—a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"We agreed to a date first, right?" you ask, and Spencer nods.

"What if we skip that and make up for the lost time? What do you say, my lover boy?" you suggest, with a playful smirk on your face. Spencer's cheeks flush, but he is definitively excited with the idea. He quickly grabs your hand and runs with you to your car.

There is a lot to make it up, he agrees.

------------------

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