#team ben forever and ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelfilth · 6 months

Text

Jealous girl (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: secret relationship, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, fingering, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Natasha's in her 30s), praise, pet names, orgasm denial

Summary: your best friend Peter needs help, Natasha's not happy about it at all.

Masterlist

You're standing in the kitchen when it happens.

Peter barges in, his hair a tangled mess, his sweatshirt inside out. You jump away from Natasha's arms, making her spill her protein shake. She shoots him a dirty look, her lips curling up upon registering his disheveled state.

You try to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but you know you're doing a terrible job when Peter winces apologetically, throwing a bag full of Ben and Jerry's on the counter.

"Code red," he pants.

You straighten immediately, trying to shoo Natasha away with a look, but, instead of leaving, she makes herself comfortable on the counter with an excited glint in her eyes.

You've been friends with Peter ever since he ran you over with his bike in kindergarten, leaving you with a tiny scar on your shin, and a fear of any two-wheeled object. Your friendship grew over the years, and soon enough you were joined at hip, going to the same school and college, tagging along on his patrols, mainly to keep him out of the police radars.

"What's wrong?" You ask, fearing the worst. "Is Venom acting up again? Is it Felicia? I swear to God, if it's her again I'm gonna-"

That's when you decided to make a secret code to help you stay under the radar. In hindsight, you could've thought of something more elaborate than code red, code green and code yellow, but neither of you had enough brain power for that.

"It's MJ!" He cuts you off, shifting on his feet.

You stammer, looking at Natasha for help, but she appears equally puzzled. "I didn't think she had it in her, to be honest," she says, taking a sip of her shake.

"What?" Peter yelps, before jumping up, his hands flying up in an X motion. "No! She's not- No! She's not a villain, or a criminal, or anything like that."

You decide you've had enough of his blabbering, so you take hold of his shoulders and corner him against the counter. "What is it, Peter?"

He takes a deep breath, his cheeks painted crimson, and blurts out, "I really need you to kiss me."

You jump away like you've been burned, shooting an alarmed look to Natasha, but she doesn't register it, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her knuckles white from the grip she has on her protein shake. You think you can hear it creak.

You turn back to look at your best friend, who's blissfully unaware of your relationship with the most dangerous person in this building, just like everyone else on the team.

Natasha's reluctance to share her love life with her teammates came to bite her in the ass.

"No, wait. That came out wrong." He winces, his eyes darting to Natasha. You can hear him gulp when their eyes meet.

"I think you were pretty clear, Parker," she gritts, jumping off the counter, and comes to stand behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

You send him an encouraging look, taking hold of Natasha's hand behind your back.

"I have a date with MJ-"

"Doesn't explain why you need my- Y/n to kiss you."

You shoot her a warning look. "Let him finish."

Her jaw clenches, but she relents, nodding to the boy to continue.

He looks like he regrets every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Okay, so. I have a date with MJ, and I planned it all out, right? But… um… there's a problem." He clasps his hands, thumbs fiddling. You stay silent in fear of him closing off, and patiently wait for him to continue. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and I've been kissed twice, if you count that one time when Ned fell on top of me and kind of swallowed my face." Natasha snorts, and Peter blushes deep red, his eyes pleading. "I need practice because otherwise I'll just embarrass myself, and she'll hate me forever."

You feel Natasha tense up again, and you're ready to ask her to leave, but she beats you to it, speaking up before you could open your mouth. "I don't think MJ would like you kissing someone else right before your date." Her tone is even, carefully emotionless, but you feel the way her breathing shakes slightly, her grip on your hand tightening.

Peter looks at you, brows set in confusion. "But it's Y/n, she doesn't count as someone!" You huff, indignant. He winces, but goes on. "I could ask Ned, but I don't think he has any experience, so please, please do this for me?"

You turn around to face Natasha. "Can you leave us?"

Her eyes narrow, lips curled. "You're not kissing him." Her hands land on your waist possessively, and you're suddenly turned around. She lowers her chin to your shoulder, lips grazing the shell of your ear as she speaks, "Listen to me very carefully, Parker."

Peter gulps, and takes a step back, his eyes wide and alert.

"You're going to leave and find someone else to help with your little problem. We'll pretend this conversation never took place, and you'll never even think about kissing Y/n again. Am I being clear?" She almost growls, her eyes flashing.

Peter nods dumbly, before hurrying to the door. He stops halfway to shoot you a bewildered look over his shoulder. "Wait… Are you two-"

"Out, Parker," Natasha barks, her face half buried in the crook of your neck. You blush, and wave your friend goodbye, grateful when he disappears behind the door without any further questions.

"Tasha," you whine, turning in her hold. "That wasn't necessary."

She scoffs, and picks you up with practiced ease, settling you on the counter and taking place between your parted thighs. "Yes it was." She sucks at the tender skin just below your collarbone, leaving a stinging bruise. "I can't believe you wanted me to leave." She squeezes your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth is all over your neck - sucking, biting and licking, claiming. You're sure no amount of concealer will be enough to hide the marks.

"Natty," you whimper, "he's my friend, I wanted to talk some sense into him."

She hums, the skin on the underside of your jaw pulled between her teeth. "I did the same thing, no?" Her fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts, but you're quick to catch her wrist.

"What are you doing?" You look around, panting heavily. "What if someone walks in?"

"Daddy," you moan, pushing her face lower. Her fingers feel so heavenly that you don't even care about anyone walking in - you need her tongue, now. "Please."

You're pushed flat against the counter then, your back on the cold marble, your ass hanging right off the edge. Your fingers disappear in her tresses when she bends down to place a kiss on your clothed cunt.

"Let them see who you belong to," she murmurs, entering your aching core. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, your pussy clenching around her long digits. Fleeting kisses are placed all over your stomach, her fingers curling inside your heat.

She chuckles, gently biting on your hip bone. "So needy already? I barely started." She adjusts the angle, fastening the pace, but your shorts get in the way, making you huff impatiently.

"Take them off, please," you whimper, clenching around her.

"And when someone walks in, and sees you spread wide open, what then? You think I'd allow anyone to see this pretty pussy?" Her fingers scissor inside you, stretching your walls.

"N-no."

"That's right," she hums, "because it belongs to me." She pulls out to land a short slap on your slit. "Perfect little hole for daddy to play with."

She teases your folds, collecting wetness before pushing her fingers into your mouth. You eagerly suck them in, letting her fuck your mouth, tips of her fingers pushing against your throat. "Such an obedient girl," she murmurs, dark eyes fixated on your lips. You squirm, hips rocking against her abdomen with desperate need of release.

She pulls out her fingers, smearing your slick mixed with spit over your chin.

"I need you," you whine, catching her wrist and leading her hand lower, your panties sticking to your drenched cunt.

She takes the fabric in her fist, and tugs it up, making it press against your pulsing clit. You moan loudly, throwing your head back. She kneads your supple breast with her other hand, and you arch into her, pulling her closer to your aching core with your hips.

"We'll tell everyone tonight," she murmurs against your lips. "But right now you need to be a good girl and take everything daddy gives you."

You nod, feeling your pussy clench around nothing, begging for Natasha's fingers to return. She tugs on your lower lip with her teeth and plunges three fingers inside, hitting a spongy spot deep in your heat. You arch off the counter, pressing against her front, your legs clenched hard around her hips. She grunts lowly, setting a slow pace, making sure to explore your pussy with each thrust, collecting your wetness when she pulls out only to push it back inside. You bury your face in her shoulder, your fingers disappear in her hair, tugging at the tresses.

"Good?" She whispers against your ear, spreading her fingers inside, her thumb firm on your clit.

You gasp, and bite down on the muscle of her shoulder, nodding with your eyes clenched shut. "S-so good, daddy."

She hums, her full lips pulling in a smirk, and starts circling your pulsing nub. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and she takes the opportunity to paint your neck purple, sucking on the tender skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"M'gonna… I'm gonna come," you whimper when she hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

"Did I say you could, babygirl?" She chuckles into your neck, making sure to hit the spot with each thrust. You shake your head, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in effort to stop your approaching orgasm, your body as tense as a drawn bowstring. "That's right, baby," she cooes, kissing the corner of your mouth, "you're not allowed to."

Your heart drops to your stomach, torn between wanting to be Natasha's good girl and giving in to the pleasure. “Please, please let me…” you whine, buckling against her hand.

She pulls away, her eyes level with yours, and you want to sob from how good she feels inside you, your pussy clenching around her slender fingers.

“You’ll hold it for me,” she says, “and I'll make up for it later tonight.” You almost huff in frustration, knowing that you'll have to walk around the Compound painfully wet for the rest of the day.

She grabs your jaw, seemingly reading your thoughts. “And don't even think about touching yourself.”

She pulls away abruptly and tugs you off the counter before fixing your shorts and stepping away. You blink rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change, your pussy aching in the sweetest way.

Sam enters the kitchen a second later.

You subtly wipe your mouth clean, and even out your breathing while he rummages the upper shelves. Natasha's eyes glint with mischief as she slowly wipes her fingers with a paper towel.

"You up for a training session?" She asks Sam, and you shoot her a furious look. Your glare does nothing to the redhead, as she continues watching you silently, a teasing smirk pulling at her mouth.

Sam scoffs, looking between you two. "Like you weren't about to get nasty two seconds ago."

Natasha chuckles, her eyes flashing. "About to? You need to work on your observation skills, Wilson."

Sam stills, his eyes darting between you two, and you look away, knowing that nothing could hide your red cheeks and bruised lips.

He chokes on his water the moment he sees your neck. "Damn, Romanoff," he gasps, coughing. "Right here?! This is a sacred place! I cook here!"

Natasha hums, shrugging carelessly. "I eat here," she retorts, and you can tell by the crinkles near her eyes she's about to say something that's gonna make you want to bury yourself. "Actually, I was about to devour something really delic-"

"Natasha!" You shriek, tugging her away from the kitchen, but not before quietly apologizing to Sam.

She laughs quietly, following you to the bedroom. "I think we're banned from the kitchen now."

She thinks. You scoff, shaking your head. Trust Natasha to go from a full secrecy mode to telling every living soul about your sex life.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #black widow smut #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you

3K notes · View notes

lila-lou · 26 days

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 22/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 6428

A/N: This is part 22 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Two weeks later, you walked towards Annie’s office, to hand her some reports, but as you were about to knock at her door, you overheard her talking.

Annie’s voice rang out, laced with frustration and urgency, as she bellowed into the phone to Butcher. "Why the hell is Soldier Boy still in America?", she demanded, her tone tinged with incredulity. "He should have been transported to Russia by now. What’s the holdup?".

Your breath caught in your throat as her words echoed in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

With bated breath, you pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch every word of the conversation unfolding within.

Inside the office, Butcher’s voice came through the phone, gruff and strained. "The Russians are afraid to take him back", he explained, his words heavy with frustration. "They don’t want to deal with the fallout if he escapes again. They want assurances, guarantees".

Annie let out a frustrated sigh, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Well, we can’t keep him here forever", she snapped, her irritation palpable. "We need to figure this out, and fast".

Your heart raced as you listened in, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in your mind.

As you stumbled back from the door, clutching the reports tightly in your hands, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you.

With each step back to your office, your thoughts raced, grappling with the implications of what you had overheard. The tension in the air seemed to thicken around you, suffocating you with the weight of the secrets and lies that permeated Vought.

Once safely back in your office, you sank into your chair, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything you had just heard.

As you sank into your chair, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you, you couldn't shake the nagging questions swirling in your mind. Why would your friends hold Ben captive? There´s no way you misunderstood the hole situation.

The thought of Ben being returned to the Russians, to face the horrors of his past once more, sent a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced like crazy. You knew the extent of the torture he endured during his time in their captivity, and the idea of him being subjected to it again was unbearable.

No matter what he had done, to you or anyone else, this was just cruel.

With a heavy heart, you began to piece together the fragments of information, trying to make sense of the tangled web of secrets and lies that surrounded Ben's disappearance. But the more you delved into it, the more questions arose, leaving you feeling more lost and confused than ever before.

As someone who had spent countless hours tracking down supes in your previous job at Supe Affairs, you knew the ins and outs of investigative work like the back of your hand. If anyone could uncover Ben's whereabouts, it was you.

You should have done something sooner. Damn it, you hated yourself right now. Why did you trusted your team so easily? But… they were your friends, so you never thought about them lying to you.

For eight grueling hours, you poured over every piece of data on your laptop, leaving no stone unturned in your quest for answers. It was a tedious process, but your determination never wavered, fueled by the hope of finally finding a lead.

And then, just when you were beginning to lose hope, you stumbled upon a promising clue—an upcoming shipment from Nevada to Russia. Then it hit you. Your heart raced. A shipment from supe affairs. Fuck.

This could be it, you thought to yourself, the breakthrough you had been searching for. This had to be it. This had to be Ben.

Thats when Annie and Hughie knocked on your door. You were jolted out of your intense focus, the sound pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking away the remnants of your concentration, you forced a smile as you greeted them.

"Hey, come on in", you said, trying to sound cheerful despite the turmoil raging inside you. "Sorry, I lost track of time. I'll be ready in just a minute".

Annie raised an eyebrow at your distracted and stressed demeanor, her expression tinged with concern. "Everything okay?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Finally, you shook your head, plastering on a false smile. "Yeah, just got caught up in some work stuff", you replied, hoping they wouldn't press for more details.

You joined Annie and Hughie for dinner, you did your best to push aside the rage and confusion swirling within you. The possibility that your friends had captured Ben and kept it from you gnawed at your conscience, but for now, you chose to keep silent about what you had overheard. If that shipment was really connected to Ben, or worse, was Ben, the last thing you needed was them, to react in a hurry.

Throughout the meal, you engaged in polite conversation, masking your inner turmoil behind a façade of normalcy. Despite your efforts, however, a part of you remained preoccupied with thoughts of Ben and the unsettling revelations you had stumbled upon.

As the dessert arrived, Annie and Hughie engaged in light banter, discussing their latest mission at Vought. You joined in sporadically, offering a smile or a nod while your mind wandered to darker thoughts.

Annie noticed your distraction and placed a hand on your arm, concern etched in her features. "Is really everything alright?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just a bit tired from work and stuff", you replied, your tone carefully neutral.

Hughie glanced between you and Annie, sensing the tension in the air. "If there's anything on your mind, you can always talk to us", he offered, his expression earnest.

You nodded, before you asked cautiously, "Did either of you happen to see anything about Ben lately?", trying to sound casual.

Annie and Hughie exchanged a glance, their expressions guarded.

Annie sighed softly before responding, "No, we haven't heard anything about him. But it's not uncommon for supes to keep a low profile".

You nodded again, but the unease in your stomach only grew. "It just seems crazy", you continued, "that someone as powerful as Ben hasn't been seen by a fan or caught on camera or anything. Especially now that Homelander is no longer a supe, Ben is essentially the most powerful being on the planet. The media should be going crazy about him".

Annie's brow furrowed in thought, but she didn't offer any further insight. "Maybe he just want to have some private time for now", she suggested vaguely.

You knew pressing further would only raise suspicion.

Annie let out a heavy sigh, her gaze distant as she mumbled, "You still miss him, don’t you?".

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yeah", you admitted softly, unable to hide the ache in your voice.

Her next question caught you off guard. "So… there wasn´t just friendship between you two, right?", she asked.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "At first, maybe", you replied carefully. "But… it got complicated. I don't know".

Annie nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, about your feelings, I'm here", she offered sincerely.

You offered her another fake smile.

How could she sit there and lie so badly to your face? How could the whole team, your friends, lie to you like that and keep you in the dark? And how could you have been so stupid and naïve as not to question Ben's disappearance?

With determined resolve, you booked a flight to Nevada as soon as you arrived home that evening. As you started packing a small bag, you continued your research, driven by the need to uncover the truth. There was no way you could ignore the possibility that Ben might be in danger once again.

If there was even the slightest chance that he was enduring another hellish ordeal, you had to do everything in your power to prevent it. You owed him that much, after everything you had been through together.

With each item you packed, you felt a sense of urgency coursing through your veins. Time was of the essence, and you couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

As your flight took off in the middle of the night, you felt a sense of urgency propelling you forward. You had booked the soonest flight available, unwilling to waste another precious minute while Ben's fate hung in the balance.

Touching down in Nevada in the early hours of the morning, you wasted no time. Calling in sick to work, you made your way to the nearest taxi stand, determined to reach the small airport where the mysterious shipment to Russia was set to depart. With each passing moment, your heart raced with anticipation, fueled by the hope that you might find some answers about Ben's whereabouts.

As the taxi pulled up to the airport, you stepped out, your pulse quickening with each step you took. With every passing second, the weight of the unknown pressed down upon you, but you refused to let fear hold you back. Steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead, you marched forward, ready to uncover the truth no matter the cost.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the guards stationed at the entrance to the airport. "Starlight sent me to make sure everything is ready for the shipment", you explained confidently, hoping to gain their trust. Well, you had a few hours to prepare yourself for every possible argument.

The guards exchanged suspicious glances, their eyes narrowing as they scrutinized you. "We weren't informed of any additional personnel", one of them remarked, his tone skeptical. But they knew your face. Your new position at vought was pretty much being Annie´s PA.

Undeterred, you maintained your composure, offering plausible explanations for your presence. With each carefully chosen word, you worked to assuage their doubts and convince them of your legitimacy.

After a tense exchange, the guards finally relented, allowing you to pass through the security checkpoint. As you stepped inside the airport, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had cleared the first hurdle.

You walked through the airport. For a while.

As you finally entered the security room, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of another two guards. Keeping your composure, you approached them with even more confidence.

"Starlight is waiting at the entrance", you lied smoothly, your tone authoritative. "She needs to discuss some urgent matters with you both".

The guards exchanged hesitant glances, clearly uncertain about the unexpected interruption. However, they seemed hesitant to defy the authority of someone claiming to be sent by Starlight.

Nodding in acknowledgment, they quickly vacated their posts, eager to address the purported issue at the entrance. As they hurried off, you took advantage of the opportunity to slip further into the security room.

"Idiots. This was way too easy", you rolled your eyes.

As you monitored the security cameras and navigated through the building's system, a mix of disbelief and amusement washed over you. The familiarity of the security system, reminiscent of Vought's own setup, struck you as both ironic and unsettling.

With each click and keystroke, you delved deeper into the labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers. It wasn't long before your keen eye caught sight of a series of heavily guarded rooms nestled within the bowels of the basement.

The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the gravity of the situation sinking in. These rooms held the answers you sought.

As you pocketed one of the access cards from the guards, a surge of adrenaline fueled your resolve. With each step towards the elevators, your heart pounded in anticipation and sure some fear.

With a steady hand, you inserted the card into the elevator panel, the soft beep signaling acceptance as the doors slid open before you. Stepping inside, you selected the basement level, your breath catching in your throat as the elevator descended into the depths of the building.

As the doors opened to reveal the dimly lit corridors of the basement, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. With each step forward, you drew closer to the truth. Hopefully to Ben.

With each door you passed through, the tension in the air grew thicker, your nerves coiling tightly with each step. Using the access card, you navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the basement, encountering occasional guards whom you managed to deceive with well-rehearsed lies and a calm demeanor.

As you ventured deeper into the bowels of the facility, you couldn't shake the sense of urgency that gnawed at your insides.

With each encounter with a guard, you maintained a facade of confidence, engaging in casual conversation and deflecting any suspicion with practiced ease. The guards, unaware of your true intentions, offered little resistance. Again, fucking idiots.

Finally, after navigating through a series of winding corridors and heavily guarded checkpoints, you stood before the imposing bulk of the last big steel door. Your heart raced as you reached for the access card once more, steeling yourself for whatever lay beyond.

A wave of shock and horror washed over you as the door swung open, revealing the grim scene before you. There, chained up on an examination table, lay Ben, his once-powerful form now reduced to a pitiful sight. Tubes snaked from his body, connected to machines that hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, his face obscured by a large mask, his body restrained by heavy chains. He lay still and silent, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his captors.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight before you. The reality of the situation crashed down upon you with force, filling you with a mix of anguish, anger, and despair.

But amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remained clear: you had found Ben, and now it was up to you to free him from this nightmare.

As you approached Ben, your heart pounding in your chest, you cast a wary glance around the room, ensuring that you were alone and undetected.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, you gently lifted the mask from Ben's face, revealing his features beneath. His expression was serene, his features softened in sleep.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as if to reassure yourself that he was real, that he was still here with you.

As Ben's eyes snapped open, a primal fury ignited within him, driving him to break free from his restraints with a fierce determination. With a low growl emanating from deep within his chest, he lunged towards you, his movements swift and predatory.

In an instant, his hands closed around your throat, crushing the air from your lungs as he pinned you against the wall with a vice-like grip. Your vision blurred instantly, the world fading around you as you struggled to draw breath.

"Mm…Ben", you managed to gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to reach the man buried beneath the rage.

In the final moment before his grip tightened, Ben's gaze locked onto yours, recognition flickering in his eyes as he registered your presence. With a sharp intake of breath, he released his hold, allowing you to crumple to the ground beneath him.

His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and disbelief as he demanded, "Did you fucking know about this?".

You choked back a sob, tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head frantically. "No, no, no", you gasped, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your breath. He believed you, at least for the moment.

But Ben's rage erupted quickly, his voice reverberated through the room, filled with fury and betrayal. "Those fucking bastards tricked me!", he roared, his chest beginning to glow with a dangerous intensity.

You couldn't blame him for his anger, quite the opposite. You were at least as angry. But when you saw his chest begin to glow, you knew it wouldn't end well if he didn't calm down.

Fear gripped your heart as you pleaded with him, your voice trembling with desperation. "Ben, please, calm down", you begged. "You'll kill me if you explode".

Despite Ben's seething anger, your trembling hand reaching out to touch his. "Ben, please", you pleaded, your voice cracking with fear and urgency. "I know you're angry, I know it´s a lot, but… but we need to find a way out of here… now".

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, but the fire of his rage still burned bright within him.

He knew you were right.

With a wild intensity in his eyes, Ben growled at you to stay behind him. Without hesitation, he strode through the door, his movements filled with purpose and determination. As you followed closely behind, your heart raced with adrenaline.

Just beyond the threshold, a horde of guards awaited, their weapons at the ready. But Ben's grin widened, a fierce gleam in his eyes as he cracked his neck with a primal snarl. With a swift, savage motion, he launched into action, tearing through the guards with unmatched ferocity.

The air was filled with the sickening sound of flesh being rent apart and the metallic tang of blood. Ben moved with lethal precision, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he fought his way through the opposition, his fury unchecked and unstoppable.

As Ben tore through the guards with unparalleled brutality, you followed closely behind, your stomach churning with each gruesome scene unfolding before you. The once pristine corridors of the facility were now painted in shades of crimson, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

With each strike, Ben's movements were fluid and precise, his strength and speed unmatched as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency. You did your best to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest.

Despite the horror of the situation, you forced yourself to steel your nerves, pushing aside the overwhelming urge to vomit as you focused on staying close to Ben's side. With each step, you prayed for the nightmare to end, yearning for the safety and solace of escape.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the building.

As the chaos subsided and you both emerged from the building, the weight of the ordeal hung heavy in the air. Ben's gaze swept over the scene, his expression unreadable as he took in the aftermath of the carnage.

Without a word, he made his way to the nearest car, dispatching the last few guards with a swift efficiency that bordered on mechanical. You followed closely behind, your mind still reeling from the violence you had just witnessed.

When you reached a car, Ben paused, opening the passenger door casual. Despite the grim circumstances, there was a sense of familiarity in his actions.

You climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin as you settled in. Ben joined you moments later, sliding behind the wheel with a sense of purpose.

The engine roared to life and Ben quickly navigated the vehicle away from the scene of destruction. As you drove off, the weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air, the silence between you filled with unspoken questions and lingering tension.

You couldn't help but stare at him, your mind still reeling from the violent ordeal you had just witnessed. With a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, you blurted out. "Even in this situation, you open me the damn car door?", you asked incredulously, your tone a mix of bewilderment and irritation.

Ben glanced at you, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, just because we're fucking knee-deep in chaos doesn't mean I have to abandon my fucking manners", he replied with a hint of amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a small chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. Despite everything.

But his mood changed within seconds.

He turned to you, his chest beginning to glow once more. "Why the fucking hell did your fucking friends capture me?", he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and anger.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm as you tried to steady his rising temper. "I don't know, Ben", you replied calmly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I overheard Annie talking to Butcher about it, but I don't have all the details. They never told me anything".

Ben's expression softened slightly, his features contorting with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "They never fucking told you?", he echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything?".

You shook your head, a heavy weight settling in your chest as you confronted the painful reality of the situation. "No, they didn't", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I wish I had done something sooner".

For a moment, silence hung in the air between you, the weight of unspoken words echoing in the car's confined space.

As Ben's chest gradually ceased its ominous glow, a sense of relief washed over you both, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"I can't fucking believe this shit", Ben muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief as he processed the revelations. "Four months… I've been gone for four fucking months?".

You nodded solemnly, the weight of the truth hanging heavily in the air. "Yeah", you confirmed softly, meeting his gaze with empathy. "It's been over four months since… since everything happened".

Ben fell silent, his expression a mixture of shock and resignation as he grappled with the reality of the situation. The passage of time seemed to stretch before him, a testament to the countless moments lost in the void of captivity.

"How did you find me?", Ben's voice cut through the silence, his eyes narrowing as he studied you intently.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. "I… I overheard Annie talking", you repeated yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "She mentioned something about a shipment from Nevada to Russia, and I knew… I just knew it had to be you and I had to find you".

Ben's expression softened slightly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You risked everything to come after me", he murmured. "Why?".

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Because you're not just 'anyone' to me, Ben", you replied, your voice tinged with emotion. "You're…damn it, even after what happened… you´re… you're everything".

As Ben's hand found its way to your thigh, a surge of electricity coursed through your body, igniting a fire within you. Despite the turmoil in his mind, his touch spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never fully express.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the intensity of the moment enveloping you. In that fleeting instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

With a silent understanding passing between you, you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand against your skin. In that simple gesture, you found a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the chaos and uncertainty of the world around you.

You missed him.

More than anything.

The landscape blurred past as Ben continued to drive, the silence between you stretching on. Unable to bear the weight of the quiet any longer, you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, "I missed you".

Ben's grip on your thigh tightened slightly in response. Despite the absence of words, his touch conveyed a depth of emotion that resonated deeply within you, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of your reunion.

After driving for what felt like an eternity, Ben finally pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript motel. The neon sign flickered weakly overhead, casting a dim glow over the deserted parking lot.

About 15 minutes later, Ben settled onto the bed with a heavy sigh, you moved to sit beside him, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air between you. His gaze was distant, his expression inscrutable as he stared off into the distance.

You carefully asked, "Do you want to take a shower? I can find something for you to wear that doesn’t scream 'soldier boy went crazy'".

Ben grunted in response, his gaze still distant as he nodded slightly.

With Ben in the shower, you seized the opportunity to dash to the nearest mall. Racing through the aisles, you grabbed a small selection of clothes that you hoped would suit him. After paying in a hurry, you grabbed some food and rushed back to the motel. You didn't really want to leave ben alone, not in his state of mind.

As you arrived, you noticed your phone buzzing incessantly with missed calls and messages from Butcher and the rest of the team. Ignoring them, you powered off your phone, determined to focus solely on Ben's well-being for the time being.

You froze in the doorway, catching sight of Ben lounging on the bed naked, flipping through channels on the small TV. Your cheeks flushed crimson as embarrassment flooded through you, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your eyes.

"Uh, sorry", you stammered, averting your gaze. "I, uh, brought you some clothes and food",

Ben glanced over at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "About time", he remarked dryly, reaching for the clothes in your hand.

He watched you how you covered your eyes, a bemused expression crossing his features. With a raised eyebrow, he reached out and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

"You've seen it all before, haven't you?", he remarked. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?".

Your heart raced at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as his deep, husky voice washed over you. Instantly, you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body, your arousal igniting at the mere sound of him.

Ben's smirk deepened as he sensed your reaction to his touch and words. "Guess the worst part of me getting captured was that I couldn't take care of you properly". He emphasized the word ´properly´ his gaze smoldering with desire.

As you looked up at him, your heart pounding with desire, you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. With a boldness born of longing and pent-up passion, you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to you with a sense of urgency. It was too long. You missed Ben more than words could ever express. You loved him. Him. Ben.

Your lips met his in a fiery kiss, hungry and desperate, as if trying to convey all the emotions and desires that had built up during your time apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the electrifying connection between you and Ben, the raw intensity of your mutual longing washing over you both.

As Ben pulled you up onto his hips, the world seemed to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his body pressed against yours. Pressed against the wall next to the door, you yielded to the passionate onslaught of his kiss, feeling a rush of heat coursing through your veins.

With one hand beneath your ass, supporting your weight effortlessly, and the other cupping your face, Ben deepened the kiss with a fervor that left you breathless. Your fingers dug into his biceps, seeking purchase as you surrendered to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

A deep, primal moan escaped your lips, reverberating in the small space between you, as the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the fiery passion that ignited between you and Ben.

Amidst the fervor of your embrace, Ben's lips danced along your collarbone, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. As his touch ignited a wildfire of desire within you, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper of pleasure. You were his own personal drug.

Ben's deep voice rumbled against your skin, a hint of amusement laced with desire. "Told you to be fucking careful with those noises", he murmured, his lips trailing a path of heat down your neck.

With a shuddering breath, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch. Every sensation, every caress, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a swift motion, Ben tore away your shorts and panties in one fluid movement, leaving red lines marking where the fabric had been. You inhaled sharply at the suddenness of his action, but the surge of desire coursing through you overwhelmed any pain as you pressed your lips harder against his.

Driven by an insatiable need to feel him, to taste him, you deepened the kiss, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. The raw intensity of the moment consumed you both.

Lost in the whirlwind of desire, all you could think about was him—the weeks of longing, the ache of his absence—all of it culminating in this moment. His presence enveloped you, his scent, his warmth, his touch.

Desperation laced your voice as you begged for more, your words a fervent plea for the release of pent-up desire. "Please", you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "I need you".

Ben's amused grin widened as he teased. "Maybe I should disappear more often if this is the kind of welcome I get", he chuckled, his hand trailing down to his throbbing length.

At this point it became damn clear to you, that this was Ben´s way of handling his swirling emotions of what the team had done to him. Or wanted to do to him.

With a confident grip, he positioned himself at your entrance. As his tip brushed against your slick folds, you gasped.

With bated breath, you braced yourself against the wall, your muscles tensing in anticipation of his next move.

Slowly, tantalizingly, Ben began to push forward, his thick length inching its way into your welcoming warmth.

With one measured thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, the delicious ache mingling with the throbbing heat pooling between your legs.

As he sank deeper, your senses were consumed by the heady sensation of him filling you completely. The friction between you driving you to grind against him in search of greater pleasure.

As Ben's hips pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against your skin, he peppered kisses along your neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your sensitive flesh. Each brush of his lips sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

With a husky voice, thick with desire, Ben whispered against your ear. "You feel so fucking good", he murmured, his breath hitching as he fought to control his own rising arousal.

With that, he started to move, slowly at first. He would never admit it, but he missed you just as much, even though he wasn´t really awake for the last few months.

As Ben's thrusts grew more forceful, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, he struggled to stifle his own moans of pleasure. With each breathless gasp, he fought to maintain control, his lips seeking yours in a desperate attempt to silence his own cries of ecstasy.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you clung to each other, consumed by the raw, primal desire that bound you together. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the searing heat of your passion.

"Fuck, I missed you so much", you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Ben's movements became more urgent, driving you against the wall with force. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the small motel room, a symphony of desire and longing that reverberated through the air.

With a firm grip on your ass, Ben lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he hovered above you, his gaze dark with desire. His cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with its hardness as he groaned at the sight of your swollen, eager pussy.

“Fuck, Sweetheart. I nearly forgot how fucking beautiful you are", he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he continued to tease you with his throbbing length.

As you shuddered beneath him, your desire reaching a fever pitch, you pressed your hips against his throbbing length, craving the feeling of him deep inside you.

With a low, guttural groan, Ben captured your lips in a searing kiss.

As you press your hips against Ben's throbbing length, he groans in response, his desire evident in the way his eyes darken with lust. You reach up, pulling him closer as he positions himself between your legs.

Ben thrusts forward, sinking deep inside you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sensation, feeling him fill you completely as he moves with softer strokes. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying with every movement.

You writhe beneath him, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

As the tension builds and you feel yourself nearing the peak of pleasure, Ben's commanding voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Come for me sweetheart", he orders, his voice low and urgent, his gaze intense as he watches you intently.

His words ignite a fire within you, pushing you over the edge as you surrender to the pleasure coursing through your body. With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter into climax, waves of pleasure washing over you as you ride out the intense sensation.

With each thrust, Ben's urgency grows, his desire evident in the way he moves against you.

"Fuck, I'm close", he grunts, his words strained with desire as he drives himself towards the edge. "Gonna come inside you, baby".

You meet his gaze, nodding in response. With one last thrust, Ben finds his release, his body tensing as he spills himself deep and hot inside you with a primal groan.

As Ben's climax washes over him, he collapses against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes ragged and heavy against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you bask in the warmth of the moment. His dick throbs inside you, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

For a few blissful moments, you both remain tangled together, lost in the intimacy of the aftermath.

As Ben slowly rolls himself beside you, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice gentle as he caresses your cheek.

You nod, a soft smile spreading across your lips. "More than okay", you murmur, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

Ben returns your smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your lips, before you placed your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

Ben's chest grew warmer beneath your cheek, and a sense of panic flickered through you. "Ben, your chest", you exclaimed, pulling away slightly, concern etched in your voice.

Ben's gaze shifted to where your hand rested on his chest, his expression tight with controlled emotion. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he fought to calm himself down. His grip around your body tightened, seeking solace in your presence amidst the turmoil within him.

"It's okay", Ben muttered, his voice strained with effort. "I've got it under control".

You nodded, though the concern lingered in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of distress. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you leaned up and pressed your lips against Ben's jaw, trailing kisses along his stubbled skin, you hoped to distract both him and yourself from the rising tension in the room. His struggle to maintain control was evident, his muscles tense beneath your touch.

You lingered at his mouth, kissing him softly, pouring all your love and affection into the gentle caress.

As you continued to kiss him, you gently cupped his face, urging him to meet your gaze. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and turmoil.

"Do you remember what you said to me the night before the fight?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "The words that made me feel so angry and hurt?".

As your thumb brushed over his cheek, you felt the heat radiating from his chest, but you fought to keep your composure. With a shaky breath, you pressed on.

"I was angry because it's true", you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I… love you, Ben".

Feeling the weight of your words, Ben's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. It was a revelation for him, a moment that he never expected to experience.

For the first time in his life, someone had told him they loved him, and meant it with their whole heart.

———————————

A/N: First, sorry for the long silence. But, I'm back. Well, a lot happend in this chapter. And a lot will happen in the next chapters. I can promise one thing, no matter what you think will happen, it will definitely be different... And that counts for several upcoming chapters... The two of them definitely won't find peace that quickly. Otherwise we would already be at the end of the story <3 Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 23

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut #billy butcher #hugh #hughie campbell

120 notes · View notes

artyandink · 29 days

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

A/N - If I do decide to write this, it’s going to be challenging since I do not use swear words in my writing (and Ben does) but hey, comment if you’re interested!

“I stood by you.” I whispered, looking at him in the green eyes I’d known for so long. They’d changed. Evolved, with how much we’d both been through. “I’ll always stand by you, but I’ve gotta do it on my own terms.” I ran a hand through my hair, hollowing my cheeks out as I swallowed dry. That hand then swept down my mouth and over my bottom lip before landing in my lap. “I ain’t happy with who I am, Ben. Who I became.”

“Shut it. There’s nothin’ wrong with you… nor me.” Ben growled, looking away and his tone rough, like it always was when he was this defensive. “We were doing our jobs. We were… are leading a team, just like the old days. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, is there? No, there isn’t, in case you were about to talk back. Damn modern days and all the useless, feminist crap it put in that pretty little head.”

“Our job was and is to serve and protect, I know that much.” I frowned, looking away for a hot second. “But we’ve destroyed ourselves for the sake of the job. You were betrayed by your team and everything went goddamn south. I was fine not being at the forefront of everything. I was happy not fighting Homelander. I had a life. But the moment, the moment I get a call from Butcher saying that you needed me, I came for you. I came for you! And we went down like the frickin’ Titanic. All that talk about saving me from mundane, unnecessary things like social interactions and a stable job… but what if I didn’t need saving?”

“Yes, you did!” He stood up, towering over me with his eyes looking like they had a forest fire going on in them. “I remember our days fightin’ Commies, and you’d take hits but you stood up and hit those bastards back until they couldn’t even walk. I remember when you’d kill first, ask questions later. That version of you is the one I need. To win my fight.”

“Is that why you need me?” I scoffed, rubbing my forehead. “For the fight and nothing else? I remember our days where we were friends. Even if we were sitting in silence, smokin’ blunts- we did it. We shared smiles on the battlefield. Where we’d crack open a whiskey bottle and criticise whatever we wanted to. We’ve changed!”

“For the better!”

“Is that what you believe?” I searched his face for one sign that he thought it was true. “That your revenge-driven craze was for the better? Against Mallory? Butcher, who got me to bust you out after tellin’ me that you were taken? We destroyed ourselves, Ben!”

“For the job!” He retorted, grabbing my chin roughly. “You’re supposed to support me, that’s what we’ve always done.” In retaliation, my eyes glowed red, sending a sharp pain through his head that forced him to let me go. I rubbed where he grabbed me with heavy breaths leaving my mouth, a small growl at the end of it. The audacity of this man.

“We didn’t destroy ourselves for the job. We destroyed ourselves because we could. I was happy without a fight, and now? You got me addicted to it.” I bit my lip, then took a deep breath. “And I want out.”

“You don’t get an out.”

“I ain’t givin’ you a choice.”

“If you walk out that door…” Ben got up close, his jaw set like stone and stature imposing, like it’d always been, “don’t you ever come back… you’re dead to me. You’re goddamn dead.”

“If that’s how it’s gonna go, fine.” I nodded, then swept my hand down my mouth, steeling my expression. I was losing my oldest friend. My co-leader. The man who told me it was always him and I, no matter what. This is how it ends. “I’m dead to you.”

“Leave.”

I dug my heel into the ground, turning on it and walking straight out. I walked and I didn’t look back, even if the urge clawed at my neck to do it. I never thought it’d come to this point, but I guess the good things don’t last forever, and I learnt it far too late. I’d have to fight the proper way, I’d have to fight smart, and not by Ben’s terms. Not like Soldier Boy. I’d have to take this on the right way.

I pulled out my phone, dialling a number and putting it to my ear as I walked into the open road, down the pavement and looking up at the clear blue sky, which I rather envied as my head was clouded with the thoughts of every passer-by and their dumbass decisions to buy a doughnut or go for a walk in the park. “It’s me. I’m in.”

LMK if you want this to become a series, guys!

Luv, Arty :)

#soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy x reader #blurb

50 notes · View notes

senorabond · 1 month

Text

Rumor Has It: Chapter 9 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader; Javier Peña x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 9 Summary: Flashback: All rules go out the window the first time you and Marcus are truly alone.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, flashback, workplace romance, oral sex (m receiving), Marcus being the softest saddest boy, bearded!Marcus, ‘good girl’ origin story

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

Author’s Note: I wrote most of this at the same time I was writing chapter 8; I just couldn’t get this image out of my head of sad-boi!Marcus, watching his classic films, eating his pint of Ben & Jerry’s… I decided to break up this flashback as well because there is so much I want to do with bearded Marcus and the word count was getting untenable.

Thank you to my darling, my lovely beta, Kilamonster! I’m forever grateful for your unceasing encouragement and feedback. Besitos para ti 💋💜

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

One Year EarlierWashington, D.C.

Pike had been acting weird ever since he went on that work trip to give a deposition. At first you thought he was just grumpy from being jet lagged, or perhaps the deposition hadn’t gone well. His office door was closed most of the time, which was very unusual for him.

The poor man looked like somebody had run over his dog. You’d never seen him look so haggard in all the months you’d been detailed to his unit. His shoulders drooped, his shirts were wrinkled, and his usually well-groomed appearance turned a bit unkempt. You had to admit the beard he’d been growing for awhile had a rakish charm about it. He’d let his hair grow out, and the forelock that fell over his forehead was simply dreamy and emphasized his large, coffee colored eyes. Apparently the sad boy look did it for you.

You saw a few members of his team try various things to engage with him, inviting him to happy hours and trivia nights, bringing him coffee and pastries each morning. He was always grateful, insisted on paying for the food and drinks, but declined all invitations. Whispers were starting to circulate about various reasons for the change in Pike’s demeanor.

You hate rumors. Which is how you find yourself sitting in your car on a Friday night, fully intending to go to the gym, but thinking about Pike instead. This had gone on long enough. Either he needed to be snapped out of it, or needed a friend to talk to about whatever he’s going through.

Instead of driving to the gym, you stop by the store to pick up a six-pack of beer you’ve seen Pike drink at happy hours, and go to his place. He’s hosted team hangouts there, always making sure to include you. The case you’re on now occasionally results in late nights with a few of the team ordering massive amounts of takeout and working late into the night, camped out in various locations around his living room. You’re always the first to nab the cozy throw blanket off the back of the couch and hunker down into the plush cushions.

Tonight is different. You’ve only been alone with Pike a few times, never for long, and never at his place. Those few times you have been alone were always work related or out at a social function for as long as it took for someone to get back with the next round. By the time you begin to second guess your decision to go over, you’re already in his neighborhood and turning down his street.

You think to yourself that it’s still not too late to turn back. Then Pike’s face from that afternoon comes to mind – those big, brown eyes of his that are usually so full of passion and intelligence had dulled the last few weeks. With your mind made up, you park in front of his townhouse and grab the six-pack from your passenger seat.

A few steps from the front door, you pause when it occurs to you that the windows are darkened. His car is there, but the only light you can see is coming from the fan-shaped window at the top of his door. He might be out, or sleeping – you check your watch – at seven o’clock on a Friday night. Or, he might have somebody over, and having a young-ish female agent from work showing up would just be an awkward mood killer.

You hesitate, then take a step forward, thinking you’ll leave the beer for him and send a text. Shaking your head, you realize that’d just be creepy, and turn around to go back to your car. Just then, you hear his front door open and whirl around to see Pike standing there in a white undershirt and joggers.

“Hey –”

“Hey!” You cut him off, a little too loudly and flinch. “Hey, sorry, um…” You’re not quite sure what to say at this point, it all sounds too dumb. He doesn’t look angry, just a bit bemused by your presence. Thankfully, Marcus ends the awkward silence first.

“Do you want to come in?” Stepping back, Marcus opens the door a bit wider and you can see that he’s barefoot. You’re not sure why you find that endearing.

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside, noticing that most of the interior lights are off except for a couple at the back of the house. There’s faint noise coming from the TV in the living room. Not sure what else to do, you stand there and awkwardly hold up the six-pack.

“I brought beer.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Marcus politely takes the beer and shuts the door. As he walks back to the kitchen, he asks over his shoulder, “Did I miss a group text about a hangout?”

“No, I just…” Sighing, you hover at the threshold of his kitchen, where he’s opening two of the beer bottles. You decide to lean into the awkwardness and just go for it. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. Why do you ask?” Marcus answers far too quickly and casually, so you push.

“You’ve seemed…off lately.” Accepting a beer, you take a swig to steady your nerves. The words all come out in a rush. “Ever since you went to give that deposition. You just haven’t seemed yourself.”

Marcus watches you silently. You shrug, and admit, “I guess I was kind of worried.”

You pause, your stomach in knots, sure now that you’ve just been imagining things, and that you’ve overstepped the limits of your professional relationship. Marcus takes a deep breath and places both hands on the island counter, leaning with his arms straight. He fixes you with an unreadable expression.

“Did the others put you up to this?”

“No!” You assure him, stepping forward and putting your beer bottle on the counter. “Nobody put me up to this. Nobody even knows I’m here.”

Wanting him to believe you, you place a hand on his upper arm, feeling the well developed muscles flex under your touch.

“Really, Marcus. You can talk to me. What’s going on?”

Marcus sniffs, then takes a long pull from his beer.

“Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Casablanca plays quietly in the background, and the two of you are settled back on the couch, washing down pizza with more beer.

Turns out Marcus hadn’t expected to see you standing there when he opened his front door. He’d gotten an alert from his doorbell camera and figured it was the pizza delivery guy. You laugh together when he shows you the video captured of your exchange.

“So, wait – you were just sitting here in the dark, watching a classic romance, in your pajamas? Where’s the pint of Ben and Jerry’s?” You’re both laughing at your lighthearted ribbing. You swear Marcus blushes a bit, but the beard and dim lighting makes it hard to tell.

“In the freezer…” You laugh even harder at this revelation. “What? I was saving it for after the pizza!”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Pike?” You give him a playful push with your foot. “Go get it!”

Marcus’ smile looks almost back to normal as he gets up and pads off to the kitchen, returning with a pint of Chunky Monkey and two spoons.

“So,” you start, swallowing your first bite. “Who is she? Or he – I don’t want to assume, of course.”

“Who says there’s anyone at all?” Marcus demures, taking a large spoonful for himself. You sit facing each other on the couch, hunched over the shared ice cream.

“Seriously? The movie, the comfort food, the sweats – it’s Breakup Recovery 101, and you could teach the course.” He chuckles as you knock his spoon away with your own to go after a large piece of walnut.

“I know it’s cliche, but...”

“But it helps,” you finish for him, and he nods. Selflessly, you let him take the chunk of chocolate you were gunning for. The ice cream is starting to make you feel cold and you look around the room.

“What?” Marcus asks, turning his spoon over to lick it clean.

“Where’s the blanket that’s normally here?” You pat its usual spot on the back of the couch.

“Oh, hang on, I’ll get it.” While you dig around for another piece of chocolate, he disappears upstairs. A minute later he’s back with the cozy throw. “Sorry, I usually put it out if I know you’re coming over.”

Marcus spreads the blanket over both your laps while you hold the ice cream out of the way.

“You don’t normally keep it out here?” Marcus shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t usually need a blanket. But you got cold the first time you came over – for the Superbowl party, I think? I went out and got one so you’d be more comfortable the next time.”

You stare at Marcus, blinking, as he picks through for the good bits. This man, who barely knew you the first time you came over, went out and bought a blanket to keep at his house on the off chance you got cold here again. You don’t even remember saying you were cold at the party, you’d just put on your jacket until the house warmed up a bit. You’re not sure what to make of the feelings stirring inside your chest.

“Thanks, Marcus. That was really thoughtful.” He shrugs in reply.

“I like my friends to be comfortable.” And that’s when you remember Marcus sees you as a friend, and you see him as one too. You swallow around a lump and clear your throat.

“I didn’t even know you’d been seeing anyone. Will you tell me what happened?”

After a deep breath, Marcus tells you everything – about his last assignment, the woman he’d briefly been engaged to when he came to D.C., and the man she stayed behind for. He tells you about seeing both of them when he went to give the deposition. And in return, you tell him what a badass he was for laying it all out for that asshole.

“Well, I don’t know about ‘badass.’ This is so embarrassing, but I actually said I’d grown the beard out for,” he raises his fingers in air quotes, “‘an undercover thing.’”

You try not to laugh, but fail miserably. “Aw, that’s not so bad.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

“No, really! Once after a bad breakup I dyed my hair blue and sent my ex a glitter bomb.” Marcus laughs and tugs playfully at a lock of your hair.

“I bet you looked cute as hell with blue hair.”

“Trust me, I didn’t look nearly as cute with blue hair as you do with a beard.” You reach up and stroke the side of his scruff. The shared laughter fades, and you’re left just looking at each other, taking one another in.

The words bubble up in your chest and flow out, “She was so stupid, Marcus. I bet she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Marcus smiles ruefully and ducks his head, and you leave your spoon in the carton so you can take his face in both of your hands. His cheeks are soft and warm under your touch.

“I’m serious. You’re an amazing agent, an incredible friend, and an even better human being. I mean it when I say it’s her loss.”

Marcus’ eyes go soft and he swallows. You realize you’re still holding his face and begin to retreat, but he holds one of your hands in place, his fingers cold from the forgotten ice cream in his lap. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and turns his face to kiss your palm.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Your chest is tight from holding back the urge to do – what, you’re not exactly sure. Anything, whatever it takes to bring that smile back to his face and erase the sadness from his eyes. Leaning in, you brush a gentle kiss across his cheek, then another.

And then his lips are on yours, warm and soft, slightly sticky from the ice cream. Marcus is moving, setting the half-melted ice cream on the coffee table and letting your spoons clatter, his lips never leaving yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you can smell the sweetness of the dessert on his beard. When he deepens the kiss, you sigh into his mouth, enjoying how his tongue tastes and feels against yours.

The scratch of the stubble doesn’t hurt, but the hairs on his upper lip tickle at your nose when you suck gently on his bottom lip. He moans, which seems to surprise him, and he pulls away, breathless.

You try to follow but he holds your upper arms while saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have – so many reasons…”

You can see he’s overthinking everything, so you put it plainly.

“I want this, and I want you. Is that how you feel too?”

Marcus says emphatically, “God, yes. But–”

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” You press your forehead to his and stroke his cheek. Placing light kisses to the corner of his mouth, then the apple of his cheek, the scruff on his jaw, you add a soft, “Please.”

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose, and his hands flex, tightening their grip on your arms for a second. You lay a kiss at the corner of his eye, the place that crinkles so sweetly when he smiles. Turning his face into yours, he nudges your cheek with the gentle slope of his nose. His arms encircle you, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.

“Let me help you forget.”

Smoothing your hands over his chest, you try to slow your breathing. Being in Marcus’ arms, practically in his lap, is making you feel desperate. You’d do anything to make him feel better, anything to make him feel cherished.

“Just for tonight?” A hint of pleading enters your voice. Slowly, you pull your feet under you, kneeling on the couch. Marcus swallows thickly, and when he finally speaks, his words come out hoarse.

“Say it again.”

Not quite sure what he means, you pause for a moment, pulling back to bring him into focus. His pupils are blown, his soft lips parted. Marcus looks as wrecked as you feel.

“Say ‘please’ again.” The words send tingles straight between your legs.

“Please, Marcus.”

It comes out in a whisper, immediately followed by his mouth on yours. His broad chest feels hot under your hands where you grasp the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

He slips his large hands under the hem of your sweatshirt, then molds them to your ass. Putting your arms around the back of his neck, he lifts and helps you clamber over until you're straddling his lap.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he pants between your lips.

Marcus leaves a scorching trail of kisses and licks down your neck until you gasp and grab a fistful of his soft hair to hold him to the spot that makes you dizzy. Feeling the evidence of his growing arousal, you roll your hips to press against him, sighing from the relief the friction gives you. Marcus lets out a soft grunt and pulls you into him again, this time lifting his hips up to meet yours.

Unzipping the loose hoodie you’d intended for the gym, Marcus helps you free your arms from the fitted cuffs and tosses it somewhere on the floor behind you. You’re only wearing a lightweight tank top over your sports bra, and, in the back of your mind, you’re happy you happen to be wearing the nice one that actually makes your tits look good.

Deciding to show them off, you strip the tank top over your head and toss it to the side of the couch you’d been sitting on. Marcus lets out a breath and pauses to admire your body, running his hands up and down your exposed midriff. As his hands caress your breasts, your nipples harden against the soft fabric of your bra, and he swipes a thumb over one causing you to shiver.

Reaching down, you tug the hem of Marcus’ white undershirt up and he leans forward, allowing you to pull it all the way off. You knew his arms were nice, but his chest and shoulders would have made your knees weak if you were standing. His golden skin is dappled with a light sprinkling of freckles down the column of his neck. You lean over to kiss at the base of his throat, feeling it vibrate when he hums, then lick and suck your way across his neck and shoulder.

“Your mouth feels good,” Marcus intones huskily.

Smiling, you nip gently at his earlobe before whispering, “It’ll feel even better on your cock.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You want to suck my cock?”

In answer, you reach between your bodies and palm his dick through his soft jogging pants, then give it a small stroke. He grunts, then turns his head, capturing your lips in another heated kiss.

When you moan, he deepens the kiss and drags his hot tongue against yours. He tastes so good, you’re reluctant to stop, but the size and heft of him through his pants is too tempting to resist. Sliding a finger into his waistband, you give it a playful tug and feel him smile against your mouth. You slip your hand inside and wrap your fingers around his sizable cock.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, and he huffs a small laugh that gets drawn out into a moan when you grasp him firmly in your fist.

“I'm flattered,” he says lightly, but as you give him a tentative stroke his brow creases and he lets out a soft gasp.

“Trust me, it's not just flattery.” His breath hitches when you stroke him again and he kisses your bare shoulder. You reach down with your other hand and pull his cock free of his pants to give you more freedom of movement.

Glancing down between your bodies, you're disappointed that you can't make out much in the darkness of the living room. Setting a slow, easy pace, Marcus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder, grabbing a fistful of each ass cheek in his hands.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice comes out low and intimate, almost a whisper.

Nodding, he makes small movements with his hips to thrust up into your hand.

“Do you want more? Do you want my mouth?”

He lets out a guttural moan and nods more empathically, pulling back to kiss you again. Breaking the kiss gently, you slide down between his splayed thighs and kneel before him, the plush rug comfortable under your knees. In this new position, you're more acutely aware of how wet you've been getting.

You can see the top half of his cock trapped between his stomach and waistband, and eagerly reach for him.

“Take this off first,” he instructs softly, toying with the strap of your sports bra with a quirk to his lips.

Smiling, you obey and pull off the tight garment, watching his face to see his reaction. In the dimness of the living room, the light cast from the TV flickers silently across his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and cups your face in his hand. He drags the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, unconsciously flicking his tongue out to wet his own. You decide you like seeing him from this angle, awaiting his next word or move, basking in his praise.

You grasp at the elastic waistband and Marcus lifts his hips. As his cock is freed, he watches you intensely under heavy lids. Pulling his jogging pants all the way down to his ankles, you let him adjust and get comfortable while you stroke his thighs.

Your mouth waters, impatient to feel the swollen head of his cock slipping past your lips. Grasping the solid weight of him in your fist, you pull up from the base, delighted to see a drop of precum pearl at the tip. Before it can spill over, you lean in and lick the salty substance away.

“Fuck,” Marcus’ hips spasm involuntarily, the head of his cock bumping into your mouth. “Shit, sorry.”

Ignoring his apology, you engulf him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around the ridge, then flick it at the sensitive spot just underneath. Keeping one hand at the base, you gather spit in your mouth and let it drip over the cut head, stroking him a few times to make it nice and slick.

“Jesus,” he whispers, watching you create a seal between your mouth and hand, stroking the length that won’t fit in your mouth. His moans and sighs fill your ears, hands roaming your shoulders and neck, cradling your head, pulling back your hair. He’s holding back, though. Thighs and abs rigid, arms tense, he isn’t giving himself over to the pleasure.

“I want you to use my mouth,” you tell him, then take him back in your mouth. You take one of his hands and place it at the back of your head, giving yourself a push to indicate that he can pull you down if he wants. Marcus groans and gives an experimental push, but stays tense.

Pulling off him again, you stroke the head to keep him stimulated. “Please, Marcus – fuck my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck…” Marcus slowly begins to relax, allowing his hips to buck up and meet your mouth as he gently pulls your face down. “Your mouth, it feels so good, you’re so good.”

He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch. His large hands palm each side of your face and you take him in, all the way to the back of your throat, letting him feel the vibrations of your moans.

“Ah, hnh, fuck…” Every bob of your head and thrust of his hips elicits a grunt or noise in the back of his throat. You’re sure you must be soaking wet now, and you’re tempted to touch yourself while you suck him off.

“Just like that…fuck – so fucking good, baby. Take my cock – ah, yeah…”

The sounds he's making have you moaning and whimpering around his cock, eyes closed, drool coating your mouth and chin.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up– ugh, god.”

Clenching your thighs, your hips move involuntarily, trying to get some stimulation to your throbbing clit. You need some relief, and press the heel of your palm to your mound, grinding into it in time with every thrust of Marcus’ cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself while you suck me off? Does it turn you on that much, taking me deep, feeling me fuck your mouth?”

You answer an mhmm around his cock and look up at him. From the pale light of the TV screen you can see the sheen of perspiration on his chest and forehead, his mouth open, that plump bottom lip quivering slightly.

He meets your eye as he fucks into your mouth. “Shit, that’s so good, baby, don’t stop – your fucking mouth – ah, god, yeah, keep playing with yourself, good girl.”

Good girl.

Your clit throbs and you let out an involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Nobody has ever called you a ‘good girl’ before, but Marcus’ ceaseless praise activates a part of your brain you didn't know existed.

You need to make Marcus feel good, and you feel driven to perform well enough to earn that ‘good girl’ from him again. You want to taste and swallow his cum as your reward.

Eyes closed again, you press down and relax your jaw, suppressing your gag reflex around the softer glans as you grip the rock hard base of his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel your throat, baby. You still touching yourself?”

You manage to whimper another mhm and nod slightly before he's hitting the back of your throat again. Your pussy is on fire, already clenching around nothing, desperate to take Marcus’ cock.

“Unh, yeah, don’t stop, I love how turned on you are by this. I can’t wait to taste you too – do you want that? You want my mouth too?”

Moaning your assent, you caress a hand over whatever planes of his body you can reach without breaking rhythm, feeling the muscles in his abs and thighs quiver as he thrusts steadily.

“Oohh fuck, yeah – you're taking me so deep, that’s it, that’s … that’s a good girl.”

There it is again, those two words: good girl. A keening sound comes from your throat in response. Head swimming, you'd swear you're drunk off his cock and his words.

Marcus’ voice is getting more strained, wavering from guttural to breathy. His cock swells in your mouth and your eyes water slightly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re getting me so close. Do you want my cum?”

Whimpering, you use both hands to grasp onto his hips, keeping up the pace with your mouth as his hips stutter.

"I’m so close, where do you want it?” His words are rushed and tense, but you never break your stride, moaning around his cock and making your answer obvious.

“Shit. Here it comes – I’m cu–” Marcus doesn’t get a chance to finish his warning before his cock is pulsing and shooting his cum onto the back of your tongue. Letting out a hoarse cry, he grips reflexively to your face and hair as his orgasm rips through him.

“Ah, ahh, yes, take my cum – so good, so fucking good for me…”

As the last shudders ripple through his muscles, he sighs and strokes your face tenderly while you happily milk the last drops of his cum into your mouth. You can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride in making Marcus feel so good.

Before either of you can catch your breath, Marcus leans over and captures your mouth in a deep kiss. You both moan as his tongue explores your mouth, tasting himself in every corner.

“That was incredible,” he sighs between kisses. “You’re incredible.”

Marcus kisses up your jaw to your ear and whispers, “I want to make you feel just as good…” He drags the tip of his tongue from earlobe to pulsepoint, then makes you lose nearly all your senses as he sucks and nibbles on the sensitive spot.

Still on your knees, Marcus’ assault on your neck has you arched back until you feel the press of the coffee table behind you. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but you are positioned awkwardly enough that you cling to Marcus for stability, the muscles in his back broad and firm under your hands.

“Bedroom.” It’s the only word you manage to gasp out.

“Upstairs.” His reply would sound casual if not for the heat in his voice.

“Show me.”

Marcus stands, helping you regain your balance on your feet. He kisses your lips again, then pulls back with a sly grin on his face.

“Say, ‘please.’”

Chapter 10 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

No-Pressure Taglist - I just like making friends!: @kilamonster @half-moon16 @for-a-longlongtime @pedroswife69 @pedroshotwifey @angiewatson @morallyinept @peepawispunk @i-wanna-be-your-muse @marysucks-blog @guelyury @connectioneverywhere @sunshinehaze1 @drewharrisonwriter @venturawriter @survivingandenduring @thetriumphantpanda @umniamusic @itsbrandy @eyeswidecovered @myntyuu @cajuncayenne @kirsteng42 @tupelomiss @jensensational71 @mellymbee @urmomsgnocchi @your-slutty-gf @sinpathyforthedevilish @searchedhighandlo @lizzie-cakes @tkingbacksydney @littlemisspascal @din-jarhead @read-and-wip @thegirlwiththecircus @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @penvisions @lotusbxtch @devineconjuring @ezrasbirdie @perotovar @ilovejavierpena @ozarkthedog @swiftispunk @agentjackdaniels-blog @janaispunk

#rumor has it fic #senorabond writes #rumor has it marcus #saddest boi marcus #lets make him feel better #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #javi x reader x pike #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you

71 notes · View notes

jamiesfootball · 2 months

Text

Moe stared face to face with the one-eyed rat and contemplated the unfairness of a society wherein your existence relied on caveats.

Sure it’s a rat, but this one’s nice.

Sure it’s a rat, but this one lives indoors all the time and never interferes with anyone else.

Sure it’s a rat, but have you ever considered it has rat friends who really love it?

Keeping it indoors must really help with overpopulation.

No one wanted rats, not really.

Sure, the rights of rats had never been more boldly understood. They were pets like any other, and the people who had them cared for them the same way you would any other pets. But there was a difference between a pet rat, one that lived in a family, and a non-domesticated rat, one that roamed the streets without any intention of settling down.

The metaphor may have gotten away from him.

That was fine.

This rat technically had both its eyes, but the right one was milked over. The presence of functional without any of the appearance. A portion of the world obscured, extra effort needed to make sense of it.

Moe stared face to face with the one-eyed rat and wondered if any of its little rat friends ever conflated something missing with something wrong.

The lads were talking about the Bantr promo ads.

Or they had been, but now the lads were talking about girls.

Used to be that if the topic of girls came up, Moe could rely on Colin to shift the subject, always interrupting the flow of conversation to ask if someone had a comb or some socks or a can of Lynx he could borrow.

After years of being a professional footballer, he should really have basic hygiene dialed in by now, but that was Colin for you.

Also used to be that if it weren’t Colin, Jamie would inevitably derail the conversation. Moe wasn’t sure if it was missing socialisation cues or problems with learning socialisation in general, but Jamie had missed the usual lessons that girls were a topic ‘men’ should enjoy discussing, and were therefore worth discussing for all of the some time until Moe wanted to put his head through a wall.

Used to be that you couldn’t pay Jamie to stay on topic.

One second it was girls, then it was the girls on Lust Conquers All, then it was lads on Lust Conquers All, then it was breakfast-themed alcoholic beverages, then breakfast cereals, then some new snack he’d seen when he was getting petrol and had anyone else tried it yet, then it was what kind of fabrics everyone preferred in their cars, then he was off on whether or not he should get tested for allergies because after he’d switched to a new detergent, his sheets were making him itchy.

That had been the time Moe insisted on helping him test for bed bugs. Jamie had taken him up on his answer because as insensible as he could be, he took hygiene seriously, and also because Isaac had threatened to kick him out of the dressing room forever if it turned out Jamie was infected with tiny creepy crawlies.

As soon as they arrived at Jamie’s house, Big Ben – a fat orange cat with a grumpy face and a Gucci collar – came up to say hello, yowling in their faces until Jamie bent down to give him ear scratches.

Both cat and owner followed Moe room to room. Moe diligently laid down the test strips while Big Ben twined around his legs. Jamie talked his ear off about Jurgen Klopp’s Gegenpress tactics and whether it was a strategy Ted might be open to trying.

(He even pronounced all the words correctly; he must really be serious.)

That was the other thing he’d noticed lately – it used to be that no conversation left around Jamie could go long without returning to football. When they’d signed Zava, Isaac had actually called a team-minus-Jamie meeting to discuss how best to prevent Jamie from cornering the legend himself with aggressively pointed questions about obscure matches no one remembered.

To Moe’s knowledge, that hadn’t happened yet. Without being asked, Jamie respected Zava’s space far more than he respected anyone else’s, and he hadn’t gone on a proper football rant in a while.

Now it spewed out of him like a dam unleashed.

Equally demanding of attention was Big Ben, who threw himself at Moe’s feet with his paws curled up in front of his chest in a false act of supplication that Moe wasn’t going to fall for.

When Moe stepped around him, the cat repeated the gesture, adding a plaintive mewl for good measure. After his third attempt at gaining Moe’s attention, Jamie scooped the cat up – an impressive feat, considering it was the size of a small blimp.

Jamie cooed at the gargantuan ball of hair, “Cut that out. He’s trying to help us out, King.”

The cat purred in contentment, already satisfied.

That was the difference between cats and rats. The cat could have what it wanted, because its needs were understood.

A big acceptable tomcat; a man amongst men.

A man, full stop.

In the end, Jamie didn’t have bedbugs. Just delicate skin and bad taste in overpriced household products.

After educating Jamie on how the phosphates found in laundry detergent had devastated oceanic ecosystems around the globe, Jamie and his cat solemnly promised to look up Moe’s recommendations. Both wore matching, befuddled expressions and a sort of distracted interest, as if Moe was a creature that, once gone, would cease to be more than a novelty. A one-time interruption in a life that would spin rather much the same once he was gone as it had before he arrived.

Or he’d let the metaphor get away from him again.

That was fine.

Moe went home.

Remy had a cage for when Moe was away. The first thing he did whenever he returned was open the door to his rat’s home. Together they roamed the flat, clueless in communication but free to do whatever they wanted.

What Remy wanted to do the most was curl up on Moe’s shoulder, making a nest between him and the couch cushions while he dozed into a peaceful rat nap.

Moe might not matter to the world, but Remy mattered to Moe.

With Remy for company, Moe had everything he wanted.

No one’s making the rat participate.

In no way was Bantr a worse option as a sponsor than Cerithium Oil. Not in a million years. The damage Cerithium Oil had done to the planet would stretch on forever – there would never again be people in the world not affected by their disregard.

But at least Cerithium Oil had never given a damn whether Moe Bumbercatch was ‘single.’

He hadn’t wanted to be a part of the new Bantr promo in the first place, but group advertising didn’t work on an opt-in basis. Everyone at the club did their bit knowing that somewhere down the line someone else would do the same for them. The team relied on each other that way. For every Sam Obisanya and Dani Rojas and Jamie Tartt who racked in money for the children at the annual gala, there were a dozen smaller PR stunts that could be handled by one of the any-players.

Moe didn’t mind being one of the any-players. What he minded was the arbitrary nature by which his participation had been decided. He disliked the sensation of being ‘singled’ out.

Moe put up with dozens of small slights every day.

Like the ‘mens’ label on the toilets by the dressing room, even though they were the only team that used this part of the stadium and therefore had no reason for the specificity. The culturally acceptable amount of sexual innuendos surrounding men’s fitness whenever it came time to do interviews. Team movie night, which purported to be about emotional release but usually revolved around rom-coms or media geared towards children (many of which also featured romance.) Most days these weren’t more than a prick against the skin, a bristle of discomfort that lingered more in memory than in lasting hurt.

Richmond was a good club, with a disproportionate amount of good people and a host of benefits to make up for it.

One of said benefits of Richmond: the talk around the dressing rooms tended to be more palatable than what he’d dealt with in past dressing rooms.

How unfortunate that past performance was not an indicator of future results.

Zoreaux held up his hands to fend off the jeering. “All I’m saying is that when this shirt comes off? There’s no need for words. I let my body do the talking.”

He invited booing, really. Only Dani approved, nodding sagely as if this was great advice (which made a certain amount of sense; Moe couldn’t imagine any advice would make Dani less successful at winning people over.)

Once towels had been thrown and collected, the attention turned to the next victim in line.

Isaac elbowed Colin. “How about you? What’s your pitch for getting a woman to stick out a date after she’s taken a spin in your car?”

Colin took the good-natured jab with a corner kick smile. “Keep it simple. Go for drinks, catch a film, and if the movie sucks, I’ll pay for your Uber home.”

This was treated to a round of chuckles and a few outcries of ‘lame!’

Personally, Moe appreciated his teammate’s brand of dry self-deprecation. Colin gave off the sense that he was someone who knew himself well enough to make a joke of it—a quality Moe certainly couldn’t say he’d cultivated.

Hard to cultivate in sand when you were meant to have soil.

“Hey Jamie, what about you?” Colin asked, making a grabby motion towards the Lynx cupboard. “Did you think of something to say for the ads? Or are you just going to take your shirt off?”

A can of Lynx was tossed across the room with little regard to aim. Colin fumbled the catch.

Languid with his knees pulled up on the bench, Jamie’s smirk did nothing to dissuade Moe’s notion that he was a large, acceptable feline in his natural habitat. That said, his answer came surprisingly devoid of the self-congratulatory manner with which they were all accustomed.

“Date’s not about me, is it?” he said simply. “I’m not doing it for me. I’m just there to show her a good time.”

Some thoughtful hums and considering ‘good points’ went up around the room. Personally Moe thought that sounded lonely. His own experiences in dating were limited, but he was pretty sure that fun was the point.

Hence why he’d stopped doing it.

As if sensing his dissatisfaction, Jamie narrowed in on him. “Moe, how about you? What wisdom are you bringing to the women of Bantr?”

Sometimes, he had to remind himself that he was used to slights.

Moe shrugged into his jacket. “Haven’t decided.”

Some of the joking demeanour slid off Jamie’s shoulders. His uneven eyebrows puckered together, the slit on the right making the effect of his expression more severe. “What d’you mean you haven’t decided? We film tomorrow.”

“Means I haven’t decided on anything I want to say to help our corporate overlords squeeze more money out of our increasingly impoverished society.”

“Ah, we can help you figure something out!” Dani offered. He seemed excited by the prospect. “What do you like to do on dates?”

A tingling sensation spread into his hands. “I don’t like dates.”

Colin tried to share a smile with him. “Too capitalist for you, boyo?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t like dates?” asked Zoreaux, perplexed and usually kind and now-

Moe sidestepped the scrutiny. “It doesn’t matter, because we’re not looking for real dates. We’re just selling the idea that we could be looking for dates. It’s an illusion.”

“He’s right,” Colin added. Heads swivelled his way. “It’s not real. If one of us was seeing someone, this wouldn’t even be considered cheating. It’s just doing a job.”

Moe raised an eyebrow; Colin was hardly someone he’d describe as cynical, but that response was practically dripping with- with-

With something he couldn’t place. He’d come back to it later.

“Is that the problem then?” Goodman asked, throwing an arm around Moe’s shoulders. He sounded positively chuffed. “Finally found someone and you don’t want to share?”

“No.”

“Ooh, I think we hit a nerve,” O’Brien chortled.

Moe pushed Goodman’s arm away. “Sure did.”

Once again, Jamie’s confusion was a mirror image of his cluelessness kitty cat’s when Moe refused to follow the script. “Hey, man, we were just messing around.”

He reminded himself that the slights didn’t matter, because it wasn’t like he’d told anyone that he was being slighted.

He also reminded himself that the rat can do whatever it wants.

Because Moe didn’t want to make an exception of himself. He didn’t want an exceptional place, a place he carried around with him where people would edit their words in his presence and continue unfiltered the moment he left. He wanted a life free of caveats. A normal life, in a normal place. He wanted the place he was already in to not have been de facto claimed by the majority. He didn’t want to speak up only to defend himself against accusations that he was spoiling their fun; he just wanted somewhere where his inclusion could be felt without the stinging sensation that he was being patronised – that the world had built around him a pocket, instead of letting him choose to crawl inside.

He wanted to be more than a rat in a pocket.

The rat wanted a home too.

He fled the dressing room.

Call that rat behaviour.

The way Moe figured it, he’d developed an aura of mystery enough that his exit would either be seen with a classy amount of intrigue or with a neon sign glaring on his back. There was no in-between.

“Moe, wait up!”

The approaching canter of Jamie indicated that the answer lay towards the option cast in a garish light.

Jamie slowed to an awkward stop. “Hey, man.”

Some hits happened so often he hardly noticed anymore; today wasn’t one of those days.

“Sorry if we were prying too much. Didn’t mean anything by it you know,” Jamie explained, in a tone so sharpened with sincerity and glass that it pierced Moe sharply between his ribs.

He liked Jamie, really. He loved everybody on the team. It was the world he didn’t like, and hardly their fault that the world extended beyond what their eyes could see.

“Yeah, I get that,” he sighed. His hands still felt tingly, and he pinched his nose. “Just not up for it today, alright?” Or any day.

Jamie bobbed his head in agreement – only to stop suddenly, his head tilting as he studied Moe. With growing wariness, Moe watched his hands slip under the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric around his fist. It was a motion Moe had caught himself mirroring a few times, usually when he needed a little extra oomph to push through some discomfort.

Anxiety creeped into his chest.

With entirely too much focus, Jamie spoke carefully, “I’m just saying, it’s none of our business if you’re seeing a girl. Or anyone.”

He added the last bit in a hushed voice.

The missile missed its target by miles. Nevertheless, Moe felt dizzy from how close it’d come to contact.

“No,” he answered. Because what?

The confused tomcat expression returned to Jamie’s face. Without giving Moe a second to catch up, he changed topics completely.

“You know those two girls Dani was seeing?”

Moe nodded, feeling very much like a trap was being laid before him.

Jamie bounced on his toes, full of nervous energy as his eyes flitted around. “And you know he’s still seeing them, yeah? Like, the three of them are still together.”

Moe did not know that. Why just that morning, Dani had leaned up against Zoreaux, phone in hand, bemoaning how much more successfully his friend’s Bantr profile attracted matches (an opinion that only belonged to Dani.)

Jamie shrugged. “Just saying, we already got an extra non-single guy signed up. Seems fair then that one of the single guys should get to sit this one out.”

If he was dizzy before, now he found himself fighting back a wave of nausea. For someone swatting through the dark, Jamie had gotten remarkably close at hitting the heart of the matter.

Heart cowering in his throat, he let the tail of the truth slip loose:

“Not single.”

For once, Jamie didn’t press. He went unusually still, and he blinked slowly at Moe like-

The fuck, was he intentionally copying his cat?

Moe sighed. His own hands fisted into the front of his shirt, where they could tremble instead of his voice. “Single implies the existence of a double. Or a triple. Or any further number of consenting adults, I presume.” He shrugged. “Point is I don’t see myself like that.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to wriggling into the light.

“Oh,” Jamie said, an odd hint of wonder slipping under his tone.

Moe looked at him.

Really looked.

Beneath Jamie’s shocked expression, something understanding crawled beneath the floorboards.

The rat stared back at the cat, confused at how the trap had snapped on them both.

The cat stared back, perhaps not even realising they were stuck in a trap.

Perhaps in looking for a mirror, he’d ignored any signs of familiarity.

Moe found himself saying, “You know that time we all went to that pet sanctuary? When Isaac got Bun-Bun?”

“When Sam got tricked into getting two snakes?”

Moe nodded. “I went back later and adopted a rat.”

Jamie perked up, tossing contemplation and personal space aside in favour of crowding up close like he intended to twine himself around Moe’s legs. “Can I see it?”

Moe retreated. “I don’t have it on me?”

“No shit.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “But you got pictures, don’t you?”

He said it with the self-assurance of someone who believed that taking thousands of photos of your pets every day was normal activity.

Moe shrugged and took out his phone. He did take a lot of pictures.

Heart in hand, he showed Jamie his phone. “This is Remy.”

In a remarkable display of restraint, Jamie lasted about five adorable rat photos before whipping out pictures of his cat.

One by one, the team filed out of the dressing room while Jamie sat next to him on a bench in the hallway, the two of them swiping through their favourite pictures. Jamie kept insisting he make Remy his own Insta so that he could show him off to the world.

Cat behaviour.

Isaac gave them an approving nod as he passed. Colin watched curiously but didn’t say anything. Goodman and O’Brien attempted some apologetic sign language, the success of which somehow captured the meaning, ‘Sorry for our impudence and thoughtlessness. Next team dinner, first round’s on us, yeah?’

That’s how you won rats over: you offered them cheese. You placated them with drinks. You won them over by dangling something they wanted in front of them, and then when they crawled out of hiding, you picked them up and held them to the light.

Jamie blew out a breath and flicked off his phone. “Alright. I better get going, or this one’s going to scratch my eyes out for dinner being late. How bout you and this ad then? If you want, I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”

Moe tested the light. “Depends on what kind of excuse you’re going to give.”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Jamie shrugged like it was that simple. “Unless you want me to?”

“Not really,” Moe confessed. “But they’ll probably ask anyway. Like it’s their business.”

“It is a business, mate,” Jamie pointed out – for a second time that day, one of Moe’s teammates demonstrating an uncharacteristic amount of cynicism. “How about….”

He chewed on his lip, feline attention turned to a rodent’s problem.

“…How about I tell ‘em you had a rat emergency?”

“A what?”

“It’ll confuse them, won’t it? ‘Cause no one knows what it means. Sounds exotic and shit. Could mean anything from ‘my rat’s escaped’ to ‘my rat’s got off it’s leash and into the petunias and it won’t come out’ to ‘my rat’s got a sexy photoshoot coming up and I need to knit him a tiny outfit.’”

Sounded like a good life, the version Jamie made up in his head.

Then again, Moe had never had the opportunity to break out his size 14 knitting needles.

Jamie waited for his answer with all the eager impatience of a cat with its paws curled up against its chest. Attention-seeking behaviour. False supplication.

Something that had needs easier to understand, yet every bit as trapped in a cage.

Moe supposed you drew cats out the same way you would any creature. You offered them care, respect, affection when they needed it – space when they wanted it. You offered them freedom.

Maybe you offered to sit in the trap next to them, because it was unfair to make them do it alone.

The metaphor may have gotten away from him.

It really was fine.

“Might show up anyways. It’s for the team, isn’t it?” Moe decided. He nudged Jamie in the side. “Besides, this way if I change my mind halfway through, I can lie and say I need your help with the rat emergency.”

Never one to stay on topic, Jamie turned to Moe with bright eyes and asked, “Have you ever thought of dressing him up?”

“What? Remy?”

“Yeah! Saw this picture online the other day of a little rat dressed up for the tropics. It had sunglasses and a tiki cup, and it was chowing down on a peanut that barely fit in its hands. I’m telling you, you’ve never seen a rat so happy.”

Moe should not have expected better from someone who dressed his cat in Gucci.

But he didn’t hate the thought.

The rat was not alone.

#if this feels a little all over the place and rushed that's because it is!#i started this yesterday morning #I had to get it out of my brain so here we are #aromantic moe bumbercatch #aromantic jamie tartt #aromantic asexual agender moe bumbercatch #to be specific #the greater richmond pet acquisition #moe bumbercatch #jamie tartt #excessive metaphors about cats and rats #writing snippet #except it's the whole thing #ted lasso fic

54 notes · View notes

seeds-and-sins · 1 year

Text

Light My Fire - Part Two

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Sexual themes, Crude language, Curse words; WARNING!! Mentions of Death/Desire to Die)

Description: Soldier Boy and you don't always get along, but that doesn't mean there isn't something going on. Ben isn't very good at hiding his feelings for you. He isn't good at showing them either.

Part One

"Where the hell is Phoenix?" Soldier Boy finally noticed why there was a gaping hole in the meeting room's atmosphere. With his feet propped up on the edge of the table, he inspected the entirety of his team and found that one member was missing. Stan Edgar straightened with a sigh, an almost performance worthy somberness to his expression as he shrugged.

"Sadly, Phoenix has fallen ill." Soldier Boy gritted his teeth, the anxious energy tripled as he glared around at his team mates, whom were all unable to make eye contact with him.

"Ill?" Soldier Boy spat, "That's impossible. The bitch has an immune system akin to the Berlin Wall."

"That's what we had assumed for many years, but Phoenix is currently bed ridden with a small cold, proving us wrong." Edgar redirected the conversation then, immediately, "She will not be joining us on this mission, but hopefully she will have recovered by the time we get back."

"Bullshit." Ben wasn't falling for it. Phoenix was a goddamned firecracker-You were a firecracker. Although he had never seen it, he was certain that not even the sniffles would keep you from putting on that suit and fighting. Edgar made it seem like it was so normal, nothing to be alarmed over, but Phoenix was in her early fifties and you never got sick. Something wasn't right here. "Has anyone seen her?" He peered around the table, the awkward silence giving him his answer. "Well, that's settled then. Vought sent her on a fuckin' secret mission, and now they're trying to cover it up." He was satisfied with that conclusion, until Edgar cocked his head stoically at him, and said:

"Interesting theory, Soldier Boy, but Phoenix is actually here in the tower right this very moment. Resting. You are welcome to go see for yourself, no secret mission whatsoever." Soldier Boy, as stubborn as he was, went to stand. "I would insist though, that you go find her after the meeting. This is just a small briefing before our trip to Nicaragua." Soldier Boy's jaw tightened and he reluctantly sat back down, kicking his feet back up once more.

For the rest of the meeting, Soldier Boy remained surprisingly quiet, adrift so to speak, attention completely lost to all things around him. Usually, he had a habit of complaining and making quick insults at his teammates, but this time something more intriguing had taken up space in his thoughts. You.

Was he actually worried? He never worried about anything, he was Soldier Boy. But you were not unlike him when it came to your super abilities and the idea that you were sick didn't sit right with him.

Neither of you ever really got along: not having you around for a mission should have made him happy, but it didn't. He appreciated your grit, something that was in short supply these days. He always had appreciated your grit. You were the only idiot on the team stupid enough to call him out and he loved every second of it. You were fierce and compassionate and you were a damn good hero. If anyone asked the right question, he would very openly admit that you were the only other competent little shit in all of Payback-aside from himself, that was. And his countless attempts at getting into your pants? Well, it was sort of a coverup. Because he did like you so much that it almost hurt sometimes not being near you. You turned him down every time, forever and always was your modo, but it didn't put him off in the slightest. He loved it more than he should have.

Not having you around. Impossible. Not happening. He wouldn't allow it. He was the leader of Payback and if he said you were coming, you were coming.

When the meeting finished-small, my ass-he ordered one of the interns to go fetch him a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a bottle of brandy. He chuckled to himself as he watched them sprint away to go complete his order, knowing that if they made him wait any longer than was necessary he would not be pleased.

"You're going to go see her, aren't you?" Crimson Countess popped out from behind him, leaning against the wall beside the meeting room's double doors. Soldier Boy put on his flirtiest expression, propping an arm up beside Countess' head before grinning.

"Why? Are you jealous?" He teased, thinking it would curl those beautiful painted lips of hers. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

"What's the point even?" His eyes narrowed on her.

"What do you mean, sweetcheeks?" He wasn't going to feed any assumptions, if he didn't understand said assumptions to begin with. "You're just being paranoid. You know there is only one girl for me." He winked, caressing her porcelain cheek with the crook of his finger.

"Don't even." She shoved his hand away and he visibly frowned. "You fucked me once and that was it for you. Then you moved on to all these other girls and that's fine. But you don't want to fuck Phoenix, do you?" Her features drawn down in a sullen glare, "You want to be with her." Soldier Boy gulped, cracking his neck and then standing back from his lean on the wall to adjust his vest.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, I don't."

"Here!" The breathless intern returned, Soldier Boy faced him with a raised brow.

"What the fuck? That was like five seconds, kid." The intern was bent over, struggling to catch their breath. They held out an open bottle of whiskey and a container of a sloshy, mushy liquid. "Are you shittin' me?" Soldier Boy snatched the container from the intern's hand. "What the fuck is this?"

"My lunch, Sir. Chicken Noodle Soup that my mother made..." He held up the liquor, Soldier Boy winced in disgust at the half empty bottle. "And this, I stole it from the Legend's office." Soldier Boy lifted his chin in thought, his features loosened for a moment and he swayed his head from side to side in consideration.

"Points for effort, fuck nut..." He snatched up the bottle of booze and then lifted his boot, using a small fraction of his strength to tip the intern over to the ground. "But the soup is cold, so you're still pathetic." He shot a look back at a discarded Countess and then carelessly began down the hallway, leaving the Intern groaning and laying flat on the floor.

He had been in Phoenix's penthouse many times, a majority of the time he was uninvited. You had to have your door replaced at least seven times in the past year because he had a penchant for breaking and entering, especially if you weren't alone. He just couldn't help himself. The idea of you being with someone else, when he was more than capable of stopping it, it itched at his skin. He sometimes would stand outside your door for hours, contemplating whether or not to knock. And obviously, why would he knock? He was Soldier Boy. He didn't knock for anyone.

But god, what a stubborn bitch you were...

This time he would knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He heard some shuffling on the other end, a TV being paused, followed by footsteps.

"Yes?" A nasally voice sounded=, he almost couldn't believe that it belonged to you.

"Police. Open up." He smirked, tilting his head as he listened for your response. There was a brief silence, and then:

"Fuck off, Ben."

"Think again, cupcake, I brought you the goods." Another moment of silence, he waited, and then he was done waiting. He dug his shoulder into the edge of the doorframe, his cheek close to it as if he was listening. "God, you must love me breaking down your door."

"Urgh, stop!" You hit the door and he bounced back with a hearty chuckle. "GO. AWAY."

"Do you think that's going to work?" You unlocked the door and swung it open, Soldier Boy instantly recoiled at the sight of you. You were wearing at least three layers of sweatshirts, comically making you look thicker, sweatpants and a pair of fluffy slippers. Your hair was disheveled, dark circles under your eyes, and your skin was sickly looking. His eyebrows furrowed and a certain strictness overtook him.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Jesus Christ," He hid his concern as quickly as it had dawned on him. "Please tell me you're dying." You slumped into the door, tiredly fluttering your eyes before sniffling.

"You'll be dead in a few seconds if you don't fuck off." There it was, that fire that he loved oh so much.

"Hear me out-"

"I hate hearing you out."

"I know, but this time..." He held up the soup and the bottle. "You might give me a chance."

"Really?" You snorted, crossing your arms as a horrible shiver wracked your body. "This is what you bothered me for."

"Considering that no one else on the team has stopped by, I'd say beggars can't be choosers."

"I didn't beg to be bothered by you, asshole."

"But you thought it, didn't you?" He held the items up again, puckering his lips in an amusing pose. "Come on~" He chirped, "Let me bother you."

"I'll accept the offering, you can leave now." You reached out for them, just to shut him up, except that wasn't enough. He swiped the items back to his chest and feigned an appalled look.

"Oh, please, honey, we're a package deal." You stared at him blankly, before stepping back, about to shut the door. "You close that door, next time I'll break it down." The shift in his tone, from playful to terse, sent a bout of irritation through you. You cracked it back a little, closing your eyes and then with an exhausted exhale, you creaked it open just enough. "Yahtzee." He cheered in a sing song voice, entering your penthouse and then booking it for the couch. You slammed the door and rushed to beat him to it.

"No. Don't you dare. No. No! FUCK!" He splayed himself across the couch, blankets and all, destroying the little nest you had made for yourself. You kicked the edge of the couch, it shifted from your strength and Soldier Boy laughed.

"Ooo, what are we watching?" He sat upright, allowing some space for you to occupy. He placed the bottle and the soup on the coffee table, squinting in thought at the giant Panasonic screen ahead of him. "A porno?" You bonked him on the head as you passed in front of him to curl into the corner of the couch.

"No, dipshit, it's Footloose. VHS." He unlatched his helmet and proceeded to remove it, dropping it alongside the other items on the coffee table.

"Ahhh, who's the guy in that-uh-" He snapped his fingers aggressively, closing in his eyes to scour the farthest reaches of his being. "Steak-Sausage-He's named after some kind of meat, I know it-"

"Bacon..." You couldn't help but laugh. "Kevin Bacon." Soldier Boy smiled boyishly at you, weaving his fingers through his hair and pulling back the bangs that dropped before his eyes.

"Yeah, that Bacon guy. Not bad, I guess. Shitty movie though." You hit his arm with what strength you had.

"Don't fuck this up for me. I've never seen it before."

"Neither have I..." He snorted, "I was too busy getting a blow job in the back row. Ya'know back in my time-"

"Our time." Oh yeah, sometimes he forgot that they were almost the same age. "Back in our time." You shivered again, snatching the blanket that Soldier Boy had pinned to the couch with his ass. He showed you mercy and sat up for you, so that you could bring the fabric up and around your body. His eyes focused on you for a split second before he shook his head away.

"Back in our time, we had good actors. They'd sing and dance and do all sorts of shit. Heck, did I ever tell you about that time I-"

"Ate Audrey Hepburn out in a bathroom stall at the Academy Awards?" You finished dully, Soldier Boy chewed the inside of his cheek.

"What about when I-"

"Fucked Marilyn Monroe in the ass, in the Oval Office?"

"Okay, now-"

"When you jerked off on Lucille Ball?" He clicked his tongue and snapped at you this time:

"You made that last one up."

"Sounds about right though, you mostly only ever contribute your sexual exploits to ninety percent of our conversations, so..." You sniffled, lifting the remote from the end table and shrugging. "Unless you have a legitimate explanation, I don't want to hear it."

"Fuckin' bitch." He muttered under his breath as you pressed play on the remote, rolling the movie. It was silent for a few minutes, nothing but the music and conversation from the big screen, and then you shivered again, your teeth rattling as your body tensed. You cursed under your breath, a wave of annoyance washing over you. "Vogelbaum see you, yet?" Soldier Boy asked, from the corner of your eyes you saw his head tilt toward you. "You don't look so good."

"Why do you care?" You spat at him, shifting to stare in his direction.

"Because you're a member of my team..." You rolled your eyes back to the movie, choosing to ignore what sounded like genuine care in his words. "I mean, if I am allowing you to stay here-"

"Allowing me?" You forced out a boisterous laugh, from the pit of your belly, that slightly hurt. "What are you gonna' do? Force me to go throw myself limply at Marxist Sandanistas?"

"You still got some strength in you, kid. Squeeze my pinky." He followed this by actually holding his pinky out. You rolled your eyes, but proceeded to wrap your pinky around his and squeeze. Strong, but not that strong.

"Ben, I can hardly lift myself up from the ground, it hurts to breath, and this morning I struggled to bring my tea to a steady boil." He flicked his pinky from yours, your hand limply falling to your lap. His eyes scanned you, chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.

"You afraid?"

"No." You confessed, although you continued with, "Heck, the sooner I die, the less I have to look at your ugly mug."

"That's a brat move." He smiled at you, you couldn't help but return it. There was almost an odd way about this moment, as if you were secretly comforting each other, while trying not to comfort each other, while also trying to hate each other. Or at least, this was a much more comfortable moment compared to the usual. "Seriously. Did you get Vogelbaum in here?"

"He came and checked me out, said I was fine."

"That sit right with you?"

"Not, really, but I don't care." You bit your bottom lip, refusing to look at him.

"Why, not?" The music in the background was no longer soothing as it was needling every nerve in Soldier Boy's patience. "(Y/N)?" It was the only warning you were going to get before he destroyed the TV, he decided.

"We don't age." You clicked the button on the remote, the screen zapping into an abyssal black. You propped your head under your fist on the armrest and gazed at Soldier Boy. You hadn't slept for days and your superhuman energy could only run for so long. You were on backup at this point.

"So what..." He crossed his arms, a stern curve to his brow. "I thought woman liked that shit. No wrinkles, or whatever."

"Ben, I'm being serious."

"Me too."

"You're sixty-five years old..."

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

"And you don't look a day over thirty." He breathed, pretending not to understand the implications of what you were suggesting. He knew it already. The both of you did. You weren't the only two heroes that never aged, but it was a given that you didn't age ever and that your kind of hero was few and far between. "I'm fifty-four and look just as young as I did when I was twenty-two, getting that first injection of V."

"What are you even going on about, honey? I think you need some weed, calm ya' down, want me to-"

"Please listen to me for once." Were you crying? Oh boy, Ben thought. He cleared his throat and then sat up taller against the backrest of the couch, directing his eyes to the ceiling. "I don't want to live forever. Time gives life meaning, ya'know? And when you can't feel pain, or you're too strong to give someone normal a really good hug, it starts to get to you." You palmed at your face, willing the tears away. "I want to get married one day, I want to have kids and grow old with someone."

"Pfft, Marriage." Ben mockingly echoed, but he was silenced by your tear stained expression. He had never seen you so broken before.

"I can't believe I'm even talking to you about this..." Your breath wavered with a snicker. "You're the biggest asshole I've ever met. You don't care."

"I've thought about it..." He needed to busy himself with something, so he settled on the whiskey. He tucked in a reach for the bottle, yanking the cork out and going for a chug. The liquid left a pleasant burn behind on his throat and he winced. "Settling down with someone..." He feigned a cough into his fist. "That I care about. That I-" His head tilted back and forth. "That I might even love."

"Countess..." Hearing you say her name made his skin crawl, his fist clenched and he shut his eyes. No. Not Countess, Phoenix. "She loves you."

"She hates me." He plopped back, placing the bottle in between his legs on his crotch. "Only puts up with me because of the money, because of the fame."

"Maybe if you showed some loyalty to her, she wouldn't." His tongue slung around teeth, collecting the residue of the hardy liquid. With his head laid on the puffy pillow of the backrest, he turned it to you.

"I'm a real fuck up, I know it. My father seemed to know it too..." He fiddled with the neck of the bottle. "But I'm still afraid of failing the people I really do care about." You eyed him, not particularly sure what to do with this soft and open moment. "And Countess isn't one of them."

So you push people away.

Your breath hitched, you buried the bottom half of your face under the covers for a brief recoup in your feelings. Your face was still wet and you hate how absolutely freezing it was.

"I don't want you to die..." The admission was heaved out, shaky and choppy and all sort of scrambled, but your entire body tingled at it. "If that wasn't obvious enough." You pulled the blanket over your head, like that was going to help you.

"I don't think it was, Ben. You just told me you wished I was dying, not even a few minutes ago."

"I was joking, come on. Can't take a fuckin' joke?" He yanked at the edge of the blanket, but not hard enough to tug it from you. "What's the problem, anyways? You've got the sniffles, big whoop."

"I'm cold." You lowered the blanket to gaze at him. "I'm never cold."

"Well, you're a naturally hot person. No shame in that." He grinned, winking at you. When you didn't immediately react, as far as he could see-the blanket hiding your smile-he stretched his arm across the couch again. "I know something that can warm you up."

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Damn, I like the way you think." He purred, you pretended to gag at him as you settled the blanket in your lap. "But no, just come jump in my furnace for a little bit. I won't touch you." After his offer, he followed with an assertive wave of the hand that was stretch out along the back rest toward you.

"Ben-"

"I've seen you butt naked, get your ass over here." You sighed, knowing he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, he never did. You weakly shuffled across the couch and when you were close enough he dropped his arm, trapping you in his embrace. Your body melted against his and you were instantly incapacitated at the heat that drew from in thick waves. You couldn't help the moan that exited your parted lips. "Careful, you might just tempt me, honey."

"I'll-" Your eyes slid shut as you dropped your cheek to his chest. "I'll burn your dick off if you try anything." His laughter rumbled up through his chest and you felt it with a fond smile. You wished you could smell too, because you were certain he smelled amazing.

"We going to turn the TV back on, or..."

"Why don't we just..." You smacked your lips, bringing a leg over his thigh so that you perfectly curled up to his side. "Let's just stay here for a bit." He didn't promise not to touch you, his palm held the base of your skull and his other hand guided yours to rest flat on his chest.

"I'm okay with that." He allowed his own eyes to slid shut as he took a deep breath. He tucked his nose into your scalp and inhaled, you were too sleepy to stop him. "If you aren't better by the time I get back, I'm going to toss you off the top of the tower."

"Why would you do that?" You snorted, confused more than annoyed by it. You knew how he could be.

"Call it, Soldier Boy's in-home flight training experience." You smiled goofily, thankful that he couldn't see it.

"Oh yeah? Well, if I'm going down, you're going down with me."

"You won't go down though..." There was a lilt of a growl to his words. "Because you'll be brand new by then, right?"

"I hope." You didn't expect him to squeeze you even tighter.

"You will. Promise." You turned your face, your lips to his chest plate as you then looked up into his eyes.

"I promise." He wanted to kiss you so badly then, but he couldn't. He couldn't kiss you. He thought about your conversation, about how you both opened up to each other. He thought about what his father said to him all those years ago... And he didn't want to hurt you. Instead, he cupped your cheek and stared back.

Return to Master list

#the boys #payback #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #mindstorm #tommy #gunpowder #swatto #the legend #crimson countess #reader #vought international #oc hero name

324 notes · View notes

thesilmarillionblog · 21 days

Text

PROTECT ME FROM WHAT I WANT

Chapter 2: Tides will bring me back to you

Summary: You've been working with Butcher and his team since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander, and months later, you met Soldier Boy. Drowning between hatred and your desire to have your vengeance, you have to face your feelings for Soldier Boy eventually.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Language, fake Soldier Boy gets hurt, soft fake Soldier Boy, mention of death.

Word Count: 3128

A/N: English is not my first language.

When you heard mixed noises coming from the TV and felt a hand on your hair, you opened your eyes lazily. You felt numb and spent. Confused by the sense of loss seized through you, you lifted your hand to touch the one stroking your hair with tenderness.

The hand on your hair stopped, and you looked at the handsome figure above you.

“Hey,” said Ben. “You’ve been sleeping for hours, sweetheart.”

Even more confused, “for hours?” you asked. You realized your head was on his leg.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Didn’t you sleep well yesterday?”

You tried to remember how you fell asleep or what made you feel this way, but it left you even more puzzled. You felt a sense of disquiet take over. You shivered under his soft hands. You did not like this empty feeling.

“What happened?” he asked softly this time, helping you to get up and taking you in his strong arms right away.

“I don’t know,” you murmered while resting your head on his broad and strong chest. The warmth touching your cheeks and hands helped you. “I feel distressed and scared. Maybe I just overslept.”

He tightened his strong arms around you, gave a firm kiss to your forehead, and you pressed your body against his, searching for peace in his presence. You felt desperate yet safe in that moment.

He lifted your chin to look at you properly and see what’s wrong. “Scared of what?” he asked you in disbelief.

You started “Homelander-” but he cut you off immediately by saying, “He died a long time ago, remember? I did it. I am the one who killed him, baby,” and continued, “What can make you scared when the strongest supe ever to live is your husband, huh?” as he gave you a teasing wink.

The sincerity of his words calmed your sensitive heart in a second.

“No one can dare to hurt you as long as you’re with me.”

You believed him.

His conforming touch and sweet talk shadowed and overtook your negative mood.

“As long as I’m with you? What if I leave you? Does it mean they can touch me?” You teased him while you put your hands around his neck.

“They may try,” he growled, and he took you by the neck and crushed his warm lips with yours firmly. Between lustful yet sweet kisses. “You don’t want to divorce or something, right?” he said, and his smile reached his eyes.

“You would never leave me.”

You were melted by his trust and hidden fragility that only you could see under his sharp gaze.

“I would never.”

He believed you.

To boost your mood, he suggested you watch a movie, and you gave him a nod. He certainly didn’t know about the latest movies released in the last four decades, so he let you choose. After Ben settled everything up, he sat on the couch and took you to his lap immediately. You did not remember at that moment if you had ever felt like this before. In fact, your mind was like a blurry landscape filled with joyless and pale colors. However, if there was only one thing you were sure of, it was that Ben’s presence brought you such comfort that you wanted to remember that exact moment and hold on to his love and tenderness for you forever.

As time passed, your thoughts were rather focused on Ben and yourself. Pushing your mind to remember what happened before you fell asleep and the day before, your eyes watered without a reason. You were stuck between nothingness and the abstract void of the present.

Trying not to sound dispirited, you said, “Ben.” Shifting your position in his arms, you lifted your head to check his expression closely. You asked, “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?”

Since you couldn’t recall your memories at all at that moment, you wanted to ask Ben and learn about tomorrow’s plan without sounding bizarre.

Ben’s eyes met yours before he gave you another kiss.

“Your sister will give us a visit. You told me you missed each other a lot, that it had been a long time since you spent time together. Don’t you remember?”

Ben’s gaze was questioning, and he looked confused. You hated yourself for being difficult and ruining the mood.

“Oh, yes. Sorry,” you murmered. “That long sleep must have unbalanced me or something, I guess.”

“Y/N,” he murmered, and he turned off the TV. “Is there something bothering you?”

Judging by his voice, he sounded disturbed, hurt, but also curious.

“No,” you denied right away. You felt terrible for making him feel that way. “I don’t mean to be like this and ruin the night, but I feel a bit strange. I can’t remember a thing from today or yesterday. I just” sighed. You didn’t know how to put your feelings into words properly.

“Do you remember that you love me?” he asked with a pained voice.

“Of course I remember,” you said with pleading eyes, not even hesitating for a single moment.

“And isn’t that enough for you?”

“It’s enough, Ben.”

He gave you a genuine, wholehearted smile before he lifted you as if you weighted nothing. “Good. Let’s get some sleep.”

Despite last night’s strange moments, you felt a joy go through your body when you felt Ben’s presence behind your back as sunlight dazzled your sleepy eyes. His grip was incredibly tight around your arms and all of your body. You tried to turn around and face him, but couldn’t even move a bit, so you hit your hips to his with a sudden and harsh movement to wake him up and loosen his arms. However, you forgot for a moment that he was a supe whose body was tougher than any material in the world, and you were just a human whose bones were more breakable than a tiny rod. You moaned, caused by a sudden pain, and that woke him up.

He loosened his arms right away and held your hip to still you.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a sleepy voice.

You finally turned to him and gave him a short but firm kiss as you played with his messy hair. “Nothing at all,” you murmered innocently. “I was just trying to wake you up.”

He made a soft noise as he pulled you closer. “Well, we both can agree on your capability about that.”

After cuddling some more time on the bed and he talked about Vought and everything, you took a shower while Ben prepared the breakfast. You sat on the chair and watched him while he was doing all the work. He was very meticulous, and he looked so serious while doing it; you couldn’t stop teasing him till he finished.

Ben put on his supe suit and left home after he gave you long and sweet kisses, leaving you with your sister alone.

You gave your sister a big hug as soon as she arrived. Ben was right. You definitely missed her so much that you didn’t want to let her go. Your heart became heavy with sorrow and melancholy, and your eyes watered for a second, but you gathered yourself, pushing the gloomy mood away and keeping the day from being ruined by those emotions.

“Hey,” she chuckled. It was obvious she was surprised. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Of course I did.”

You felt like it’s been a long, very long time since you’ve seen her, as if it’s been months, even years.

. “Are you okay, though?” she asked with a concerned voice as she rubbed your arm, and you both sat down on the couch.

“I am okay.” You smiled at her with sincerity and held her hands. “It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

She rolled her eyes at you and said, “Maybe I should put a long distance between us, so you miss your little sister even more.”

Her teasing voice made you giggle. “Well, if you make this a habit, maybe I wouldn’t. My little sister? You’re just two year younger than me,” you said, hitting her slowly with a pillow.

“So, how is everything going with Ben?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” you murmered. “He is very thoughtful and gentle.” You cut it short, not knowing how to describe marriage at all.

She gave you a suspicious look and asked, “Is that all? You don’t sound very happy.”

“I am,” you denied with a firm voice. “Really, everything is well. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him or the marriage.”

She said, “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N,” with a relieved voice. “Not going to lie, I was about to have second thoughts for a moment about marriage. After all, I’m about to join the Married People Club soon. Big news.” She showed her wedding ring.

“Can you believe?” she said excitedly. “Tim just proposed to me. To be honest, I thought our relationship wouldn’t escalate that fast and end eventually as we fought over stupid stuff all the time, but I guess love always finds a way out. What do you think?”

You were too surprised to say anything, so you just took a look at the wedding ring. She was waiting for your reaction excitedly.

“Wow, Alice,” you said, not knowing what to say exactly. “Congratulations then.” You gave her another hug. “I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” she said shyly. “I haven’t told mom and dad yet though. You’re the first to hear, so don’t spill the beans,” she asked with a pleading voice. You gave her an understanding nod.

“How long has it been since you and Tim met, by the way?” You asked, and you tried not to sound mean or in any way that could upset her. You just had a hard time remembering everything.

Slightly disturbed by your question, she said, “Six or something, I guess,” with a distant voice. “Why did you ask?”

“Look, Alice,” you said, touching her arm softly. You were scared to ruin her joyful moment and make her upset. “Don’t you think it would be better if you two gave each other a bit more time? Just in case, you know.”

She frowned and raised her eyebrows as you talked. It was clear she wouldn’t take it well. “Why are you being like this, Y/N?” she asked with a hurt and angry voice. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but she did not let you. “Do you think I’m too naive or stupid to make a decision? Why is everything okay and safe when it comes to you but not me? How does that even work?”

You were overwhelmed by her sudden rage. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want the best for you, and give yourself a bit more time to be sure of your feelings.”

“You did, though,” she said, raising her voice slightly. “Yeah, you sure know more about what I feel than I know about myself. Anyways. I need to go; I’m going to miss my flight.”

You were about to protest, but a sudden, heavy, and unbearable headache appeared. Holding your head, you loudly moaned in agony. You shut your eyes in pain as random memories emerged from nothingness.

“Hey,” Alice said with a concerned voice, touching your back. “Are you okay?”

You pushed yourself to ignore the sudden memories filling your mind, but it was impossible. You screamed in pain. The memories were so horrible and hideous that you couldn’t stand them. They were about your sister's death and the fight between you just one hour before her death. Just like the one you were having moments ago. Tears were dripping from your eyes uncontrallably.

Finally, you came to realize what was happening around you when the headache stopped.

“Y/N?” Alice called out one more time with a worried voice. “I’m scared.”

Her voice broke your heart into pieces. You looked at her with disbelief. She was real and right there, in front of your eyes. She was alive and well.

“Alice?”

“You scared the shit out of me,” she said, letting go of the breath she was holding for like a minute.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, shocked. The tears were streaming down your eyes already. “I can’t believe this.”

You didn’t want to worry about your real body or anything at all. You just wanted to savor this single, small, and vulnerable moment. You wanted to remember everything forever.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Alice murmered in worry as she tried to get away from your tight hug to check on you. “I don’t get it.”

“Nothing,” you said, trying to calm her. “I just missed you so much.” It was difficult, but you made an effort to hold back your tears.

Even though you knew it was all a delusion, everything seemed so real.

Ben told you that those delusions were worse than a nightmare.

It was a gift.

“I am okay.” You told your sister to soothe her. “I am sorry for everything I told you, Alice. I’ve never meant to hurt you.”

You knew she was gone, and nothing would bring her back to you. Whatever she said or said, none of them were real, or your words would fix a thing. However, you just wanted to say how sorry you were for having a fight with her, filling her last moments with bitter and irreparable memories.

Alice sighed as she hugged you back, rubbing your arm. “I know.”

“I know you want the best for me, okay? I’m not angry with you,” she said, assuring you. “Hey, I really need to go. I don’t want to miss the flight, but I need to know if you are really okay.”

Remembering her flight, you sobbed between your tears. You knew it wouldn’t change a thing, but you pleaded with her in desperation. “I’m so lonely. Please, don’t leave.”

“Don’t be like this,” she murmured, wiping your tears away. “You’re not alone. Tim and I have been planning this trip for a long time, but we are going to have a great time together when I come back, I promise.”

You wanted to talk to her for hours, hug her tight, and spend time with her as much as you could, but every beautiful thing comes to an end sooner or later. It’s ironic how compassionate yet cruel life is.

You wanted to say so much but didn’t want to end this dream by confusing her or ruining this fake reality. You wanted to end your conversation with her in peace this time, as you should have.

When she rose up from the couch, you followed her to the door. You gave her a longing smile.

“I’m very happy about you and Tim. I truly am,” you said with sincerity. With a heavy heart, you said “Be safe out there, okay? I love you.”

Knowing her flight would turn into a nighmare, that day was the last day you see her and it was your last moment together, you struggled to control your tears.

“Thank you,” she said as she hugged you tight. “I will. I love you too.”

You cried for hours, not caring about what happened to your body or how long you were absent. Your phone rang like crazy, but you ignored it, knowing what it would be about. You made a vow to see the day Homelander died.

Your tears stopped when Ben came back. You rose and went to him with quick steps.

“Y/N,” he murmered with concern. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The gentleness and compassion in this voice broke your heart, because it was all a lie. You knew that you had to force yourself to wake up and break that pathetic and mirrored vision of yours.

“This isn’t right,” you said with a dry voice as you tried to get away from his touch.

.”What do you mean?” He made a move to touch your cheek, embrace you, but you took a step back from him again. It broke your heart to see the disappointment and pain in his eyes.

“You’re not real nor me and this house and this marriage. Everything is fake,” you said with a firm voice.

“I don’t get it. Will you tell me what happened or why you are upset? So I can fix it,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and giving you a captivating kiss.

“I know that you don’t actually love me. I’m aware this is just a dream or a simple delusion, and I want to wake up right now.”

“You don’t make sense,” he said with a firm voice. “I do love you.”

“No.” This time you raised your voice and tried to push his hands away, but he didn’t let you go. If he tried harder, he could convince you at any moment. This Ben was everything you needed him to be. “I will wake up.”

“You told me you’d never leave,” he said. You knew when he finally understood you. “Are you not happy here?”

You wanted to surrender him badly and let yourself get lost in the moment, but you knew you couldn’t. You didn’t know what to say. Lost in thoughts, he kissed you passionately.

“Don’t leave me,” he begged again, hugging you tight desperately as if he would prevent what was about to happen.

“But you’re not real,” you murmered, touching his chin.

“If you wake up, he will never love you the way I love you and will care about you. You know he’ll hurt you.”

You knew he was right about every single thing he said. He was trying hard to persuade you, but you knew it was just a part of the delusion, and everything he said was just a mirror of your own consciousness.

“I know, but at least all of them would be real.”

He didn’t say anything this time.

“I don’t want to be here or to be with you. I will wake up,” you said decisively as you finally felt the change in the atmosphere around you. You opened your eyes.

Next Chapter

#the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys season 3 #soldier boy the boys #the boys series #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you

41 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 10 months

Text

til you come back home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you really miss your boyfriend while he’s in the US for preseason, so you decide to give him a special surprise when he returns ;) warnings: smut, 18+ word count: 3.1k

author’s note: thanks for the request @a-little-bit-rascal ! also inspired by everyone (myself included) thirsting over all the ben content in preseason lmao. i hope this is something like what you had in mind ☺️ i’m not super experienced writing smut so bear with me but i hope people enjoy this, i have a couple more one-shots i’ll be working on in addition to the next chapter of this love. oh and the title is from i don’t wanna live forever by taylor & zayn

Not to be too dramatic, but you’re pretty sure the two weeks Ben is away in the US for the preseason tour are the longest of your life.

You’ve been with Ben for a little over a year now, and you’ve always found him incredibly attractive. From the moment you saw him at a mutual friend’s party, you were drawn to him. It only took you one drink to decide that you wanted to sleep with him, and two more to actually go for it.

You’re very grateful you didn’t ask him what he does for a living until after he shagged you in your friend’s guest room, as you may have chickened out if you knew he was a hotshot footballer. And also because Ben found it incredibly endearing when you complimented his toned body afterward and asked if he played any sports in his free time.

A few days later, when he finally used the number you gave him and called you up, you were somewhat expecting it to be a booty call. The sex had been great, for both of you, so you weren’t totally surprised by that. You were surprised when he asked you to go to dinner first.

The rest was history, as you found it to be just as easy to fall in love with Ben Chilwell as it was to fall into bed with him.

Your sex life has never wavered since that first date, except for when he’s been away for games or injured and under doctor’s orders not to engage in any physical activities - though he certainly still tried.

Even after all this time, Ben still has a power over you that no guy ever has, the ability to make you crumble with one look from his piercing eyes or the touch of his hand on your thigh.

Which is why it’s incredibly frustrating when he’s looking so fit and he’s thousands of miles away in stupid America.

He’s been looking particularly good recently, and you’re not sure if it’s his tan from the summer holiday, the way his hair has grown out a bit, the extra time he’s been putting in at the gym, or maybe even the confidence he’s getting back after a tough season. Regardless of what it is, it’s really making it challenging to be apart from him.

Every time the Chelsea Instagram posts a picture of him training or he FaceTimes you from his hotel room, you find it increasingly hard not to drop everything at work and just fly to the States immediately.

Watching him play in the match against Wrexham, when he scores a goal in the 94th minute wearing the captain’s arm brand and proceeds to tear off his shirt on live television, nearly makes you scream out of sheer frustration.

How dare your boyfriend be so hot when you can’t immediately have him?

By the time the tour is over and they’re set to return to London, you’re bursting at the seams with pent-up desire. They’re supposed to land in London around eight that evening, and the thought of waiting for him to get through customs, take the team bus to Cobham, then get an Uber to your flat feels torturous.

As soon as Ben texts you that they’re about to take off and that he‘ll be at yours by ten, you decide you can’t wait that long.

You know they’re flying into Stansted, so you whip out your laptop and your credit card and book a room at the nicest airport hotel you can find.

You’re not only eager to finally touch Ben and have your way with him after two long weeks apart, but also to show him how proud you are of him. Despite all the adversity he’s faced over the past couple of years, he’s going into the new season with a positive attitude. He’s not only playing well, he’s taking on more of a leadership role within the club and showing everyone just how crucial he is to their success.

So you’re determined to make your reunion romantic and special for him as well, taking the opportunity to treat your boyfriend before another intense season.

You head over to the hotel in advance to set up the room for him, pulling out all the stops - champagne, rose petals on the bed, candles. You have a romantic playlist ready filled with songs you both love. Ben has frequently shown his love for you with romantic gestures, whether it be whisking you to Paris for a weekend or surprising you with fancy dinners, so you’re excited to be returning the favour for a change.

As their arrival time approaches, you head over to the airport and wait for him.

It seems to take ages, but eventually you see some of the boys begin to trickle in and your heart thumps with anticipation.

A few of the guys who you know well stop to smile and say hello to you on their way to the bus, all clearly a bit surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N!” Reece says with a grin as he passes you. “Does Ben know you’re here?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” you say a bit sheepishly.

“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Reece chuckles. “Bro hasn’t shut up about you the entire time we were in the States-“

“Y/N?”

You look over Reece’s shoulder to see Ben standing there, luggage in hand, looking absolutely awestruck.

He’s wearing his club t-shirt and joggers, and his hair is a bit messy from napping on the plane. He looks adorable, especially his bright smile that only seems to be growing with every second that he looks at you.

You begin to run toward him on instinct and he barely has time to drop his bag before you’re throwing your arms around him and he’s catching you.

Ben’s arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the ground for a moment, spinning you around slightly with unbridled joy. It feels so good to be in his arms again, his warmth enveloping you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ben murmurs in your hair, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “How - I mean, why are you here? You didn’t have to pick me up from the airport.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” you say with a smile, pulling back to look at him and cup his face with both hands. “I missed you like crazy.”

Ben stares back at you for a moment, his eyes overflowing with affection, before leaning in to press a long overdue kiss to your lips. You sigh into the kiss and slide your fingers into his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Best surprise ever,” Ben murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss.

You continue to kiss him until you’re both out of air and you realize you can’t go any further in a busy airport surrounded by his teammates.

“Let’s go home,” Ben whispers, pecking your lips once more. “Did you drive?”

“Mhm, but I actually have another surprise for you,” you smirk, patting his cheek. “I got us a room at the Raddison across the street.” You lower your voice slightly. “So I can show you how much I missed you.”

Ben’s eyes light up as he realizes he’s going to get to have you a lot sooner than he thought, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“You’re amazing.”

Ben says goodbye to the boys, receiving a lot of knowing smirks and pats on the back before he hastily grabs his suitcase and your hand and begins to drag you away.

You both quickly make your way over to the hotel, holding hands tightly, filled with anticipation.

When you get to your room, you barely make it through the door before Ben is pushing up up against it and kissing you firmly, his bags discarded on the floor and his arms around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs against your mouth as you eagerly respond, your hands once again finding his fluffy hair and messing it up even more. “I missed this.”

“Imagine how I felt,” you say between kisses. “Having to watch you be all sexy on TV and you posting all those thirst traps on Insta-“

“Babe, they’re not thirst traps,” Ben defends, slipping his hand under your jumper so he can feel your bare skin.

“Well, it‘s still not fair for you to be looking so fit when I’m not able to have sex with you,” you whine, tugging at his shirt so he’ll get the message and take it off.

Once Ben has removed his shirt, you allow both your eyes and your hands to explore his toned shoulders and arms, gently squeezing his biceps.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says with a small smile as he watches you check him out. “What’s my punishment?”

“I’m not going to punish you,” you say with a sly smile, pecking his lips once more before backing away from him, making him pout a bit at the loss of contact. “You’re getting rewarded tonight, Benjamin.”

“For the wins?” Ben asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“That, and for finally getting your arse home to me,” you smile, reaching out a hand for him to follow you further into the room.

Ben eagerly follows, his eyes lighting up once again when he sees the effort you’ve gone to for your little reunion celebration.

“I get all this just for coming home?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining with awe.

You shake your head as you light a few of the candles and hit play on your Spotify, creating an even more romantic atmosphere.

“No, you get all this because I love you,” you say softly, shimmying out of the light sundress you were wearing to reveal his favourite black lingerie set. “This is what you get for coming home.“

Ben’s eyes darken and he wastes no time crossing the room to meet you, grabbing your waist and kissing you with such fervour that you immediately moan into his mouth.

His hands trail down to your butt and squeeze slightly before gripping your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and the friction making both of you sigh with pleasure.

He carries you over to the bed, the rose petals scattering as he lays you down and begins hastily removing his joggers. When he’s in only his boxers, he climbs over you and kisses you again.

The sight of him hovering over you, his strong arms holding him up and his fluffy hair in his forehead as he meets your gaze is enough to make you melt into the duvet, your centre already burning with desire.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathe as he begins to trail kisses over your neck and collarbone. “It’s up to you tonight.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Ben says in a gravelly whisper, making you throb even more for him. “Been too long.”

“Then do it,” you reply, bucking your hips upward, desperate for friction.

Ben doesn’t have to be told twice - he immediately brings one of his hands down to touch you over your underwear. He strokes the fabric for a second before slipping his fingers underneath and feeling your folds.

“So wet for me already, love,” Ben murmurs as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, making you moan.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away, and though you want him inside you more than anything right now, you can’t help but whine a bit.

“Patience, baby girl,” Ben says, stripping off your knickers and tossing them to the floor.

He abruptly sits up, pulling you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, and kissing you passionately. You can now feel his hardened cock through his briefs against your bare pussy and it’s becoming torturous to go another second without him inside you.

“Ben,” you breathe between kisses. “Need you.”

“I thought I was in charge?” Ben comments, reaching for your bra clasp and removing it in one swift movement.

“You are, but-“

You’re shut up quickly when Ben takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it teasingly, making your eyes shut tightly with pleasure.

You run your hands through his hair as he pays attention to your breasts that he so clearly missed, eventually trailing his kisses back up your chest and to your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, tugging at his hair a bit and exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Much less gently than before, Ben flips you over and presses you down against the bed, continuing to kiss you as he finally rids himself of his boxers.

Glancing down at you, now laid out on the comfortable mattress completely naked with your hair fanned out against the pillows, Ben takes a moment to catch his breath.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he exhales, dropping another kiss to your lips. “So beautiful.”

You blush a bit - of course Ben could find a way to fluster you with his words even as you’re moments away from him being inside you.

You kiss him once more before reaching down to take his length in your hand, and it’s already hardened enough that it only takes a few pumps of your hand before he’s fully erect for you.

He positions himself at your entrance and, despite both of your eagerness, waits for your small nod of confirmation as always before he sinks down into you.

You gasp and Ben lets out a low groan as he enters you fully, and he has to pause and hide his face in your neck for a moment to regain control before he begins thrusting into you.

You’re aware that two weeks isn’t that long, but it certainly feels like it’s been ages since you’ve done this. The two of you have a very healthy sex life, engaging in some kind of sexual activity nearly every day unless you’re both exhausted or Ben’s away for a game or something.

The pleasure begins to grow as Ben starts to pick up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, both of your sighs and groans mingling together.

“You feel so good, baby,” Ben says as he reaches up to tangle your fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” you sigh. “Had to get myself off after I watched you score that goal. Missed our tradition.”

It’s become a tradition since you’ve been together that you and Ben have celebratory sex after he scores a goal - as quickly as possible. Sometimes you have to wait until you get home, other times it’s happened in empty rooms at Stamford Bridge or even his car once.

“Fuck, so did I,” Ben groans, thrusting a bit harder this time and making you cry out. “Wasn’t as good, though. Nothing’s ever as good without you there.”

As Ben starts to go faster, you wrap your legs around his waist to shift the angle and get him as deep as possible, making both of you see stars as you’re approaching your climax.

“I wanna cum with you, baby,” Ben breathes, “are you close?”

“Mhm,” you manage to choke out as Ben’s cock hits a sensitive spot inside you.

Ben reaches down and lightly massages your clit with his thumb before thrusting into you once more.

The combination of him stimulating you and burying himself deep inside you makes you lose control, and you cry out his name as feel yourself coming all around him.

Ben is just moments behind you as he pushes into you one more time then crumbles with a low groan, collapsing on top of you.

You stroke his hair as you both come down from your climax, Ben pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.

“I love you so much,” Ben murmurs against your skin, sending a new wave of goosebumps across your body.

“I love you too, Ben,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

Eventually your bodies stop twitching with reverberated waves of pleasure and Ben gently pulls out of you, leaving you with a peck to the cheek as he quickly runs to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you both up.

After you’ve sorted yourselves, Ben climbs back under the covers and opens his arms wide for you to climb into. You happily curl up against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you, and you think you may have missed this almost as much as the sex.

“I hope you know you’ve set my expectations for coming home unreasonably high,” Ben jokes as he strokes your bare back with one hand. “I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport every time now.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you respond sincerely, kissing his chest a few times. “Have I mentioned I missed you?”

“Once or twice,” he laughs, tilting your chin up for another long, tender kiss that makes your toes curl and your heart soar. “I missed you too. I’m so glad we have tomorrow off. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s true, we still haven’t finished the new episodes of The Bear-“

“I meant sex, sweetheart, but that too,” Ben chuckles, “and loads of cuddles. It was so hard sleeping without you while I was gone.”

“I know,” you sigh, burrowing impossibly closer to him and his warmth. “My bed was too cold without you.”

You rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Ben’s embrace, before resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“You ready for round two already, darling?” Ben asks with a relaxed smile, brushing his nose against yours.

Without a reply, you slip out of his arms and walk over to pour each of you a glass of champagne, still fully unclothed. Ben’s eyes remain fixed to your body the entire time.

When you walk right past the bed, Ben whines a bit and you can already picture his puppy dog eyes before you turn back around to face him.

“Where are you going?” Ben complains.

“I need a shower,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. “You ready for part two of your reward?”

Ben’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he rushes to get out of bed comically fast, following you into the bathroom as you giggle at his excitement.

You realize later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower and he’s returned the favour back in bed, that you may have sent him the wrong message by rewarding him for driving you mad while he was gone, but oh well.

You’ve got a girls trip to Capri coming up in a few weeks, and you can think of a few ways to get your revenge.

thank you for reading!! also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for any future ben fics! 💕

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

328 notes · View notes

captainsavre · 1 month

Text

100 Episodes and Beyond: The Legacy of ‘Station 19’

What we’ll always take away from the landmark series even after it fades to black.

BY MALCOLM VENABLEPUBLISHED: APR 10, 2024

Station 19 is ending, sadly, but when it does make its final farewell this year, Shondaland’s ABC series will leave behind more than teary eyes and a legion of loyal fans not ready to say goodbye. Though on the surface Station 19 functions as a standard emergency services/rescue drama, it has so much more going on underneath its fireproof exterior. For seven seasons now, the Grey’s Anatomy spin-off has become a landmark TV show in its own right, leaving behind a lasting legacy.

On a recent visit to the Station 19 set, where Shondaland was on hand to celebrate the momentous achievement of Station 19 finishing its 100th episode, which airs Thursday, April 11, we caught up with its beloved stars to probe what the show means — and talk about some of the ways the show will live on forever.

First-responder life

Perhaps the biggest and most important legacy of Station 19 is the way it reveals the struggles, sacrifices, and everyday heroism of first responders. Statistics show that Americans make roughly 240 million 911 calls a year — that’s more than 600,000 emergency calls per day. If we’re lucky, we’ll never have to make such a call, making it easy to forget that on the other end of that line are real people who get up every day and put their own needs and lives aside to help us when we’re having the worst day ever.

Through all kinds of calamities, disasters, and unthinkable emergencies — gas leaks and bombs, medical scares and car crashes, and of course, fires — we’ve seen these fictional characters mirror the courage and heroism real first responders exhibit every day. “I think Station,” executive producer and co-showrunner Peter Paige says, “has this magical formula of great action, incredible characters, incredible human stories that model a better way to be in the world.” Amen to that!

Mental health

The flip side of those incredible acts of service on Station 19 is the toll such a job takes. Sure, fires and rescue scenes make really good TV, but what has made Station 19 so impactful is the way it shows the human cost of such work. The death of Rigo (played by Rigo Sanchez) in season three is a good example: The subsequent group therapy sessions, where Andy Herrera (Jaina Lee Ortiz) and the team confront their grief and loss, illustrated how the job doesn’t exist in a vacuum and even the world’s toughest people feel emotional pain. “The relationships and circumstances really resonate with the audience,” Ortiz says. “They cry with us and grieve with us.”

Representation

“I feel like we have a lot of good representation,” says Zoanne Clack, co-showrunner and executive producer. “A lot of people who don’t see themselves represented usually on network television see themselves on our show.” She couldn’t be more correct. Station 19 has been trailblazing for the way it depicts a number of underrepresented groups — most notably Latinos, who are vastly underrepresented on television — in lead roles, with Pruitt Herrera (Miguel Sandoval) and Andy Herrera (Jaina Lee Ortiz) in particular as standout examples. Showing them as captains has been quietly revolutionary, helping to undo persistent stereotypes that have Latinx people in service jobs or as criminals. LGBTQ characters get a lot of shine on Station 19 too; we see characters like Carina (Stefania Spampinato) and Maya (Danielle Savre) living out their lives, and not being held up as perfect aspirational models but as everyday people dealing with work, relationships, parenting, and the like — just like so many LGBTQ people the world over.

Family

“I think everybody sees the family they grew up in and the family they created — good, bad, and ugly,” says Jason George, otherwise known as Dr. Ben Warren. Indeed, Station 19’s 100 powerful episodes give us unflinching glimpses into what it looks like to be a pea in a pod, so to speak, and navigate the dynamics of being in a forced cluster — particularly accepting and supporting other people even if, in the moment, you’d really rather not. From courtships to breakups, baby making, and confronting the finality to death, the Station 19 family have endured it all together, and viewers have gone through it all alongside them. And that’s just one of the many reasons why its impact will stick inside the hearts of viewers for years to come.

For more on the legacy of Station 19, watch the video above from the series’ 100th episode celebration. And catch the final season of Station 19 on Thursdays on ABC, or stream episodes on Hulu.

Link: 100 Episodes and Beyond: The Legacy of ‘Station 19’ (shondaland.com)

36 notes · View notes

mxsonxmountx · 1 year

Text

Mason Mount AU: Arrival of your baby

Liked by: yourinsta, woody_, declanrice and others.

Tagged: yourinsta

masonmount: it’s been a while, we’ve both been very quiet. But we wanted to introduce you to our new addition to the family, Madison Chloe Mount. We couldn’t be anymore happier and grateful to be blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Both madison and mum are doing well. Love my girls xxxx

Yoursister: baby mount is here, can’t wait for cuddle with the princess

↪️we’re all all ready when you are!

woody_: congratulations to you both

↪️madison can’t wait to meet uncle woody

declanrice: uncle deccers can’t wait for cuddles, madison I’m waiting baby girl

↪️Jude finally has a little friend, can’t wait for them to grow up together

kepaarrizabalaga: congratulations to you both, uncle duties awaits

↪️get the kit ready!

benchilwell: felt like forever but baby mount is finally here, Congratulations bro

↪️she’s ready for you uncle Chilwell

Chelseafc: here she is, our newest member of the team!

↪️she’ll be in her kit before we know it

jazbenham: Summer can’t wait for cuddles

↪️can’t wait for summer to meet her, she’s going to love her

jackgrealish: welcome to the new lifestyle, congratulations mount!

↪️here comes the sleepless nights

yourinsta: my baby daddy, I love you. Thank you for giving me the most perfect little baby girl.

↪️I love you more than anything, madison is the best thing ever

Liked by: masonmount, jazbenham, yourbestfriend and others.

Tagged: masonmount

yourinsta: here she is, our perfect little princess. Let me introduce you to: Madison Chloe Mount. Welcome to the world little girl. You’re more perfect than me and your daddy could ever imagine. We love you more than you could imagine. Welcome baby mount 💖

jazbenham: congratulations darling, can’t wait to meet her

↪️we’re ready for you jaz!

yourbestfriend: can’t wait for all the cuddles with madison. Love you

↪️she’s waiting for you bestie

yoursister: auntie duties are waiting. Can’t wait to meet her

↪️ready and waiting

declanrice: can’t wait to see her in the old claret and blue

↪️masonmount: my daughter will not be wearing that rubbish! No way deccers

↪️no no no no Declan! Chelsea blue only

rlc: congratulations sis! Can’t wait for mase to bring her up to cobham

↪️thanks bro! That’s all what he’s been talking about, he can’t wait

benchilwell: uncle benny is waiting

↪️uncle ben when are you ready for cuddles?

woody_: the tiniest feet ever, love you madison

↪️madison loves you too woods

masonmount: I have the most precious little family ever. My beautiful baby girls xxxxx

↪️the best baby daddy I could ever ask for, we’ve been blessed. Madison Chloe mount. Our baby girl 💖

#mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount one shot #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount fluff #mason mount #mason mount instagram au #instagram au #Mxsonxmountx

359 notes · View notes

spencerreidswhore187 · 1 year

Text

Checkmate (Part Four)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 3K

TW: Death, kidnapping, mentions of assault, blood, strong-ish language

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate, it means the world to me. I’m working ever day this week (curse tourists) so I stayed up really late last night to finish this. I hope you like it! ◡̈

You ran. You ran and ran and ran, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You could barely stand but nevertheless, you ran. You did not know where you were going but it did not matter, you had to keep running. The alternative was the nightmare that replayed in your mind every night when you tried to fall asleep.

You used the surrounding trees to push yourself forward, your coarse palms scarping the rough bark. You stumbled over the forest floor, unsure how much further you could go. But that doubt was not strong enough to override your natural instinct to run. Even if it killed you, you would never stop running - it wasn’t even an option.

Numb, cold, and alone, you were sure your feet were bleeding. You weren’t sure how long you’d been running. Your mind was bleeding also, your brain swelled with depressing thoughts. Thoughts you could not stand. Thoughts you had to escape. If only you could outrun your conscience as fast as you could outrun the truth.

There was blood everywhere. Crimson stained your hands and clung to your hair and face. Its metallic scent flooded your nose, it was nauseating. Still, you ran. Your shirt had been white, before, now it was the colour of rubies.

Spencer had once told you that the human body contained almost five litres of blood; you wondered how much engulfed you, now. You wondered how a body could hold this much blood.

Some of it was yours, you thought, but you weren’t sure. There was too much to belong to just one person.

There were endless questions that needed answering but it was futile as you ran. Run you repeated your mantra: run, run run. You would keep running, forever if you had to, until you found him.

Until you found Spencer.

——————————————————————————————————

Six Hours Earlier:

Spencer knew how the team would react well before he even proposed the idea.

They were all sitting around the round table discussing what they were to do about you, when he said, “We have the wrong person. Y/N didn’t do this.”

“Reid,” Emily sighed, “we’ve been over this.”

“I know…I-look, Emily, I’m not saying they’re innocent but they didn’t kill this group of people.”

“So,” Luke interrupted, “that doesn’t make them any less of a killer.”

Spencer knew he was right, he needed the others to believe it too.

“I understand that and I agree - I really do - but there is another killer out there.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Yes, we do! I showed you the tapes.” Spencer had felt wretched to do so but it was protocol and he needed the team, his friends, and his family, to know who they were up against. That didn’t make him feel any less guilty though, sharing secrets that had been meant for his ears only.

Luke held his head in his hands, hoping Spencer would eventually see some sense.

Garcia took them all by surprise when she defended him,

“Spencer is right, newbie. Yes, Y/N is guilty and yes they are dangerous but right now they aren’t a threat,” the colourful bangles draped across Penelope’s wrists clattered as she gesticulated wildly, “this Ben dude is and we can’t catch him without Y/N.”

She was right, they all knew it. That didn’t mean they liked it though.

Emily eventually broke the silence, speaking into her phone “Take them Y/N L/N out of their holding cell and bring them to me immediately. Do not remove their handcuffs.”

Emily hung up the call and turned to face the BAU, scanning their reactions.

“Garcia, I need you to go through 911 phone calls regarding missing children from around twelve to fourteen years ago. Tara, you, Luke and Rossi talk to Y/N - see what information you can get from them, and bring in a sketch artist. Reid, you’re with me. Let’s go.”

“What? Why?”

“You cannot be near them, you know this.”

“But-”

“No, Spencer. I need you focused. Let’s see if we can link Ben to other crimes in the area.”

“I can’t.”

“Then go home.”

Spencer wanted to but there were too many bad memories within those walls. What used to be their holy ground was now a crime scene.

——————————————————————————————————

You hated orange, it was such a frustratingly bright colour - it made you stand out when you’re whole life you had been trained to blend into the shadows. You felt stupid in the orange jumpsuit, chains binding your wrists together.

Two women clung to your arms and pulled you out of the elevator. You were relieved to escape the tight box, you hated small spaces - they made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

The Keith brothers had locked in a wardrobe for days whenever you misbehaved.

Being in tiny rooms made you feel eight years old again, curled in a ball in an infinite darkness. Crying, begging for food or water.

You’d never told Spencer that you were claustrophobic but somehow he figured it out. It must be the profiler in him. No matter where you were or how many flights there were, he would always take the stairs with you, holding firmly onto your hand. He would always drive, get the bus or walk miles for you because he knew that you couldn’t be on trains without being consumed by intense fear.

You wished Spencer was here now, to hold your hand, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

But both of you knew, deep down, that would never happen again. You were living a delusion, yet it was so much better than the reality.

You were led back to the same interrogation room as before. You sat, patiently, as the guards tied your chains to the table before exiting.

Agent Rossi and Lewis were already seated opposite you and Luke Alvez was standing, leaning against a large mirror.

You wondered if Spencer was there, watching you.

You chewed at your cheek whilst you waited for the agents to say something.

“Tell us about Ben,” Lewis instructed.

This was your only shot at freedom - you knew better than to risk it.

“I don’t know his full name, he was always just Ben, or, um, the Bandit.”

Agent Rossi stood up rapidly.

“What did you just say?” He demanded.

“The Bandit?”

“Shit,” you heard Alvez whisper.

You’d never been one of the people who referred to Ben as ‘The Bandit’, he was always just Ben to you, once you had overheard a group of older men calling him that.

You remembered Beth, the only one who had treated you with any kindness telling you stories of the Bandit and his army of dead. She would stroke your hair as you went to sleep and tell you made-up stories of him and all his crimes. You weren’t well-liked by the others - they detested you for being Ben’s favourite, the one he always selected for missions.

It was only a few years ago that you’d discovered that the Bandit was real and he was, in fact, Ben. You never believed Beth’s stories, though…until now.

“It’s what some of the others would call him,” you explained.

Luke slipped out of the room and Tara and Rossi glanced at each other.

“Y/N,” Lewis asked gently, “Do you know where Ben is?”

You nodded. “He has an estate on the outskirts of Virginia. Maybe thirty miles away from here: Ivylands Manor.”

Rossi went to leave the room, “Lewis, you stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”

Agent Lewis turned back to face you, “You’ve been very helpful Y/N, if you could just give me a description of Ben for our sketch artist, we’ll be sure to let the courts know.”

—————————————————————————————————--

Spencer and Emily were deep in files when Luke and Rossi came rushing in.

“Emily, we have a problem.”

Spencer’s heart started racing, a million incidents rushing through his mind. He needed you to be okay, he couldn’t let the last thing he ever said to you be a threat. He couldn’t let the last thing he ever did to you be pretending he didn’t hear you say ‘I love you.’

Because he did. It has played on a loop in his mind ever since.

You were a criminal, an unsub, why did he still desperately want to kiss you.

“Ben is actually Ben Smyth, the Bandit.”

“As in-”

“The Gallagher murders? Yes.”

The Gallagher murders had occurred ten years ago. Over the span of six weeks, each member of the Gallagher family had been brutally murdered, one by one. It had started with the Father who had been shot through the head. At the time it had been assumed suicide. The family had grieved for two days before the youngest child, only fourteen months old, had been drowned in the bathtub in the middle of the night.

The murders went on and on until the only person alive was fifteen-year-old Bethany Gallagher. When she was taken, in the middle of a cold, harsh night, was ‘THE BANDIT’ written in blood on the wall.

The same exact crime occurred in nine other households across the country. The police never figured out who did it. It was a case that had driven Gideon mad.

There had been a partial fingerprint discovered at the seventh crime scene - the Miller family. It had been traced to a Ben Smyth, aged forty-seven. No one could track him down, though.

“Y/N gave us the address,” Rossi said.

“Get the SUVs. We leave now.”

Spencer looked up, “what about…”

“They’re coming with us. We are going to need the element of surprise. Y/N will be the bait.”

The next ten minutes were a blur.

Spencer was deafened by a sharp ringing sound in his ears as you emerged from the interrogation room. He could see your rigid face despite the awkward angle you are being held at. The bruised bags beneath your eyes were sunken, exhaustion etched into your features. Spencer could not comprehend how you still managed to look so beautiful.

JJ kept a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as you were walked to the changing rooms to be dressed in your old clothes and given an earpiece.

Emily reiterated the plan.

“Y/N will go in first and locate Smyth, closely followed by Reid and Alvez. The rest of us will hang back and watch the perimeter. Does that sound okay?”

There was a collective ‘yes’ from the team before getting into the black cars.

Luke sat in the driver’s seat, you and Spencer were in the back. You were still handcuffed.

“Tell me again, what I’m doing,” you asked him. You already knew the answer but you just wanted to hear his voice one last time - you had a feeling this might be the last time you saw him.

The SUV sped along the road, sirens flashing.

“You have an earpiece in?”

“Yes.”

“Agent Prentiss will feed you instructions as you enter the Ivylands. SSA Luke Alvez and I will be close behind you. We just need you to keep him distracted so we can arrest him with as few casualties as possible.”

You nodded wordlessly, staring down at your feet. Is this the end for us? You wanted to ask. You wanted Spencer to hold you and tell you it will all be okay. That tomorrow you will go home and watch Doctor Who or play a game of chess.

You could feel Spencer staring at you.

His large hand reached out and stroked your cheek before pulling the earpiece out of your own, repeating the same action on his own.

Spencer leaned in towards you and whispered, “I wish things were different.”

“But they’re not,” you breathed. “Do you love me?”

You needed to hear him say it for the final time.

“I-you lied to me, you tricked me. God, Y/N, you broke my heart.” He ran his hands through his hair.

“But do you love me?”

“I can’t!”

“It’s sad,” you sighed, tired of this game, “You ask someone about love and they tell you about heartbreak.”

The cracks in Spencer’s heart kept growing.

He remembered your first date, deep down he already knew he loved you then.

You’d gone straight from the cemetery to the cinema. You’d watched Die Hard, Spencer was enamoured with your grin that was plastered across your face throughout the whole film. It made him want to rush to the shops and buy the entire franchise. It was late December, fairy lights were hung in the streets and you bumped your shoulder against his as you tried to convince him why Die Hard is the best Christmas movie.

“It’s not even a Christmas film, there is no Santa, not even a Christmas tree on screen at any point!” Spencer had exclaimed.

“Blasphemy” you had laughed. “And you’re right, it's not just a Christmas film - it’s the Christmas film.”

You were like nothing he’d ever seen before, glowing under the streetlights.

That was when you had your first kiss, too.

He had whispered, “Can I kiss?” Watching carefully for any signs that you did not want to. When you nodded he instantly closed the gap between you, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours.

Spencer forced himself away from the memory when he heard you ask, “Spence…what would you do if I died today.”

Spencer was relieved you were interrupted by Luke stopping the car, and instructing the two of you to get out. The promise dies on his lips.

Just because he didn’t say it didn’t make it any less true: if you died today, Spencer would die tomorrow.

You and Spencer fixed your earpieces back in place.

“Ready?” Luke asked.

You could do this, you had to. You remembered when Ben had caught Beth trying to escape, he had made all the girls line up and watch him kill her. He had shot her in the heart. You would make sure he was arrested, and you would condemn him to life in prison - a fate worse than death. And you would do it for you. You would do it for Beth. You would do it for all the girls he trained to be killers.

You entered the large manor house alone. It had been years since you’d been here, within the blinding white walls. Still, you remembered your way around it like it was yesterday.

You’d practically grown up in Ivylands.

Ben would be in his office, you headed there first.

Hesitantly, you gripped the brass door handle and pushed the door open, it creaked loudly.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you entered the expansive room but it wasn’t Ben lying face down in a pool of his own blood. You rushed towards the body, falling onto your knees and rolling him over.

There was blood everywhere.

There was a hole in his wool suit, right above his breast pocket - evidently where he’d been shot.

Ben was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

There was a gun resting next to him, you grabbed it. Standing up and aiming it as examined the office.

“Y/N, what’s happening? Have you located Smyth?” You heard Emily’s voice in your ear.

You pulled the earpiece out, ignoring the smear of blood that was left along the side of your face.

Your lack of response prompted Luke and Spencer to rush into the room, adorning their FBI vests and guns pointed.

“Y/N L/N put down the gun. Now.” Alvez ordered.

Spencer was perplexed, “Y/N what are you doing? Put the gun down.”

You didn’t. You stood frozen.

“Y/N,” Spencer slowly approached you, arms outstretched, “what did you do? Why did you kill him?”

His firm grip extracting the pistol from your hands snapped you back to reality.

“No…I didn’t do this,” you protested. “Spence, please. It wasn’t me!”

It was futile, you could tell that neither of the men would believe you.

“Emily…” You vaguely heard Luke explain the situation to the rest of the team.

And then you saw it.

A flash of a figure by the entrance to the woods. Spencer saw it too.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Spencer and Luke followed too.

The forest was silent until the sound of a gun cocking echoed throughout.

You watched a familiar girl with a dark mess of long curls aim a gun at you.

The last time you saw her, she was blonde…and dead.

“Beth,” you gasped.

Spencer recognised her immediately from the case files. “Bethany Gallagher.”

“No!” She shouted, “Don’t fucking call me that!”

“You killed Ben.” You stated.

Beth snarled, “Yes and he deserved it. He killed my family. He nearly killed me. You should be thanking me, I know what he did to you. I know that he was planning to kill you and your stupid boyfriend.”

You took a defensive step in front of Spencer.

That was a mistake. You should have considered all the outcomes of your actions before you moved but you were too distracted by protecting who you loved.

You forgot Luke was there until the shot was fired and he collapsed onto the muddy ground.

You ran over to him, applying pressure onto the wound. There was blood everywhere. Why was there so much blood?

Red was rapidly becoming your least favourite colour.

You looked back up to ask Spencer to get help but you were too late. Spencer was gone.

Beth had taken him and you would stop at nothing to get him back.

You waited for the rest of the team to reach you. JJ kept telling Alvez he would be okay and Emily’s hands replaced yours atop the gunshot wound when you forced yourself up.

You stared deep into the forest, in the direction Beth and Spencer must have gone.

Slowly, you picked up Luke’s gun and held it tight in your hand.

And then you started running.

A/N: Thank you for reading! The final part (five) should be up by the end of the week ◡̈

——————————————————————————-

If you would like to be added to the tag list comment or message me.

Taglist: @sackofpissandshit @ara-a-bird @princess-ofthe-pages @catsinaspacesuit @skull-centric @wrldofsage

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds evolution #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #emily prentiss #tara lewis #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #luke alvez #dave rossi

124 notes · View notes