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reidmania · 4 months ago

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love you like a sailor | spencer reid

summary ; situationship’s, friends with benefits, and no commitment arrangements are great until lines began to blur and feelings become too real. Especially with Spencer.

warnings ; MDNI, mentioning of sex and fingering even tho theres no actual smut. situationship, messy feelings, friends w benefits, reader is avoidant of her feelings, spencer is in love, reader is in denial, mentions of alcoholism but more in a joking way, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, overthinking, talks about relationships ending, talks about death for like a second fem reader. This is ridiculously wrong and i honestly had a horrid headache while writing it so it’s probably crap… angst, fluff, hurt, comfort, this is the whole shabang.

an ; WONT YOU KISSS ME ONNN THE MOUTHH AND LOVEEE ME LIKE A SAILOR. i wanted to write this so bad i couldn’t wait. this is for my avoidant attachment girlies, this is definitely a bit out of character spencer, very self indulgent.. Look at that list of warnings my gosh. this is stupidly wrong and probably not great. BUT ENJOY POOKIES. bc u so kindly encouraged this @parfaitblogs 🎀🎀🎀

"Get some rest." Hotch mutters out as he walks past, your gaze follows him from where you had been sitting cross legged on your desk chair. You and the team had gotten back from a case only a couple of hours ago -- to say it had taken a lot out of you was an understatement.

You were tired but the response left your lips almost instantly as you tilted your head. "Why would I do that when sleep deprivation works so well for me" You hummed out with a soft smile on your face, his head shook as he rolled his eyes. He didn't bother pushing your argument as he made his way towards the elevotor.

It was inching later into the night, a lot of the team had already left to return home to their families, or partners, or even to outings with their friends. You stayed in place at your desk, ignoring the way the arm of the desk chair digged uncomfortably into your knee as your legs remained crossed.

"Sleep deprivation does not work well for you." You jumped slightly as your head tilted up at the voice and feeling of hands on your shoulders, a smile warmed your cheeks. The papers on your desk long forgottened as Spencer's hands brushed gently over your shoulders, down your arms. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, hair out of place from the amount of times he had dragged his hand through it, from you running your fingers through it while he slept on your shoulder on the jet.

"You get grouchy all day, drink an unhealthy amount of cofee until you end up falling asleep on your desk, or on Gacia's beanbag in her layor." He reminded, he bent down to press his lips gently against the top of your head.

Your chest tightened, a playful roll of your eyes and a smile later your pushing the chair away from the desk to twirl it to look at the man standing over you. You could see the tiredness behind his eyes and it made your heart sore in a way that left your stomach uneasy.

Your gaze holds his, "You just catch me at a bad time" You resorted.

He snorted, letting out a soft, 'mhm' along with unconvinced nodding, as his hand reached out for yours. You took it wordlessly, uncrossing your legs as you stood. You didn't need to ask to know what he wanted, he was inviting you home with him.

Your free hand worked to grab your bag off the ground. You eased into the feeling of his hand tighting its hold on yours. His fingers worked to move between yours, interlacing them as the two of you walked in sync to the elevator.

"Take out and doctor who?" He asked, looking at you as he pressed the button for the elevator. You turned your head to look at him cheeks heating more than you wanted to admit when you noticed the gleam in his eye.

This thing. Whatever it was between you and Spencer was overwhelming in the way it had you feeling too much and not enough at the same time. It was a constant game of give and take, push and shove, one step forward and three steps back, it all remained unspoken between the two of you.

"Only if we can get thai from that good place on forth." You revert back to the conversation as your eyes maintain on his. His hand squeezes your gently as the two of you walk into the elevator when the doors opened. His body turned to face yours and you had a familiar feeling building in your stomach.

The feeling you dreaded more and more everytime.

His free hand rose to your face to push away stray hairs from your face. His head leant towards your, foreheads placed against one another and his hand fell from your face to your hip. “We can do whatever you want, angel” He muttered out.

The words made your stomach turn. You couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel when he called you that, it wasn’t the first time either.

They slipped off his tongue as if they belonged there. Easily and simply. Everything was so easy and simple for him, you were almost jealous of it.

The elevator dinged. Moments later you were in his car, his phone in your hand, connect to the aux of his car. You fingers scrolled through the playlist he had made specifically for car rides — or any times he was with you.

It was filled of your favourite songs, songs that reminded him of you, songs that you had sent him saying he should listen to it. It was your playlist.

You settled on a song before closing his phone placing it in the centre console. You placed your hand onto his that rested on your thigh, your thumb, feather touched, running over the prominent veins that cascaded their way down his hand.

His eyes stayed switching between the road and you as you mumbled out lyrics to the song playing through the radio. His eyes danced over the features on your face momentarily, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip when you met his eyes. He offered you a soft smile before returning his focus on the road.

There was a feeling that consumed your entire being. You pushed it down and ignored it to instead enjoy the moment with Spencer. Whatever that meant.

By the time you had gotten food, got to his, and finished eating, it was nearing midnight. The feeling of tire you had only an hour or so ago had subsided completely as watching doctor who ended up with you curled in his lap, head hidden between his neck and shoulder as his hands smoothed the back of your shirt.

You waited for the movement of encouragement, you waited for the hinting signal that he wanted more right now. You were waiting for his lips to trail down your neck or for his hands too low on your back, or too high on your thigh for his touch to remain innocent.

It never came.

His hands stayed soft and sweet in their movements. You pulled away from his neck, eyebrows pushed together in itching confusion. He met your eyes, eyebrow raised, puzzled at your expression. His hands paused on your back, waiting for you to elaborate on whatever it was that was bothering you.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you wanted to bring up the unspoken silent agreement between you two. You couldn’t even explain what the agreement was if someone asked, you would be loss for words. It was just something you and Spencer both knew and never talked about.

That this wasn’t going to happen.

You and him.

The two of you would continue passing comments and compliments in private at work, being each others safe space after a particularly hard case, you would continue coming to his house to watch doctor who, and eating way too much take out.

You would continue fucking in the bathroom of whatever bar the team decided to go to, where spencer would ramble about how unsanitary it was to be doing so while curling his fingers inside you. You would continue kissing in elevators and in the passenger seat of his car when no one else was around.

You would continue falling asleep at his house, in his bed, in his clothes, leaving way too early in the morning leaving a note.

It could never be more than that.

You and Spencer weren’t supposed to be more than that. You had that decided in your head the first time he kissed you in your hotel room on a case months ago. It was a simple innocent conversation and then he kissed, and you kissed him back.

Now the lines around your unspoken agreement were fogging. Every time you fell asleep in his arms you could feel the lines being erased more and more until they had been nothing more than a faint outline.

He noticed your lack of words as his hands squeezed your hips softly. He studied your face as his twisted into something you could only describe as conflicted. He opened his mouth to talk but nothing came out.

But the look in his eye told you everything you needed to know, your face fell flat. “Spencer” you spoke warningly but it didn’t matter, the words were being spoken. The question was being asked.

“What are we doing here?”

His words left his lips quiet and meaningful. They held the emotions he tried to ignore for your sake. The words hit you like a ton of bricks, immediately sending your mind into a frenzy.

‘What are we doing here?’

The words replayed in your head as your stomach twisted up in denial. How were you suppose to know anymore than he did?

You deflected, shrugging your shoulders. “Um.. Watching doctor who” You said, eyebrows pinched. You knew exactly what he meant, he knew you did, he knew this game. He had been playing it with you for months.

His hands remained on your side as you reverted from his touch. Shutting down in the way he had seen you do probably a hundred times. You would make yourself small, and avoidant of everything you felt beyond surface level.

He mumbled out your name, in a way that caused your heart strings to tug. His mutter of your name came out like a warning sign, like he knew you knew what he meant.

“Spencer” You muttered back as you moved out of his grasp to shuffle off his lap, instead on your knees on the couch beside him. You were sure your tone showed exactly how disinterested you were in having this conversation.

It would only end one way.

You knew it would have to happen eventually, that there was only so much time the two of you could dance around it, but you wanted to stay in your bubble a little bit longer.

“Please.” He begged.

You weren’t sure what it was he wanted. To have this conversation? a label? To end it? You didn’t know and you weren’t sure you wanted to either. You and him never spoke about your feelings for each other, but it was evident you both had them.

The difference was he indulged in his feelings while you ran away from them.

It didn’t help when he was looking at you with the softest pleading eyes, his hands reaching out for you. It made you almost forget every ounce of common sense.

Almost

“I think I should go” You breathed out as your head turned away from his. You saw his face fall in your peripheral vision, making your heart feel as if it was ready to shatter into a million different pieces, each one covered in his name.

His hand tucked under your chin turning your head to face his. His eyes locked on yours and you swore every ounce of your self control was tested in the way his eyebrows furrowed sadly and his eyes pleaded with you.

“You don’t have to go.. Just talk to me..” He muttered out your name, thumb rubbing over your chin, before slowly it trailed down your bottom lip to pull it out from its place under your teeth. “I need to know, sweet girl.” He said gently as his thumb returned to its place on your chin.

“We wouldn’t work.” Your hand wrapped around his wrist that held his hand to your chin. You tried to keep your voice strong but it betrayed you as it came out quieter than you wanted. Your eyes stayed locked on his, the tension between the two of you suffocating.

His eyebrows deepened, “Why not? We worked before, we work now.” He spoke, his eyes holding every emotion you refused to let yourself feel. It was almost infuriating.

Your head shook in his hold. His words were touching parts of your mind that you avoided even attempting to approach. His eyes remained pleading at you.

“It’s different. You know it is. Relationships are different. It gets messy. We don’t need messy- We’ve had enough messy for a lifetime.. or three” You try to joke to deflect to bring the conversation back above the surface level, it didn’t work as you saw his eyes flash with something.

“This already is messy.” He said, his teeth gnawed at the gums of his cheeks, as he stared at you. He was right, you knew he was right.

“We are messy. this, us, whatever this is, its messy. Whatever feelings you are so scared of confronting are messy. That doesn’t go away just because you refuse to acknowledge it” His words were gentle yet spoke like one of his scientific rambles. He spoke every word like the was evidence to back it up.

It made the words fall flat against your tongue as your head dipped down into his hand. He didn’t make an attempt to push you to look at him, instead his hand moved gently to cup the back of your head, encouraging it towards his chest.

You gave in to his touch with ease, like muscle memory. Your arms wrapped under his arms as his hand stayed in place cupping the back of your head as his fingers ran over your scalp hidden by hair, his other resting around your waist.

“You know sailors right?” He muttered out, voice almost a whisper as his fingers curled softly in your hair, fingernails scratching your scalp soothingly. You nodded into his chest despite the confusion of how that had anything to do with what you guys were talking about.

He hummed at your nod, “They spend their entire lives at sea, everyday, every night. They dedicate their entire lives to the sea because they love it. They love it regardless of the storms, or the dangerous currents.” His other hand trailed over your back, under your shirt his warm hand against your soft skin.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t know what he was trying to say.

“At least 2,000 sailors die and sea each year, but they die happy because they died doing what they love. They died in the one place they dedicated their entire lives to, despite the storms or the dangerous currents. They don’t let the chance of a tsunami stop them from perusing what they love”

Your head pulled from the fabric of his shirt, furrowing your eyebrows slightly. You didn’t want to admit the fact that even though you were confused, him talking relaxed your muscles and the intensity of the emotions coursing through your body.

“So what?” You huff, eyes squinted as you look up at him.

His lip quipped slightly, “So, no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. I love you.” He said, his words came out sure and honest. The intensity in his tone so pure and careful.

You didn’t say anything as his words sent shockwaves through your body. You didn’t know what to say. It was easier to ignore his obvious feelings for you when he wasn’t saying them looking into your eyes like that.

“Like a sailor. I love you like a sailor” He huffed, finishing his point.

Your eyes twitched downwards, “You know most sailors are alcoholics so their judgements isn’t really something to go off” You mutter out, “They don’t care about the dangers and risk because they are stupid and drunk half the time to deal with the loneliness”

He snorted, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah well, Im not an alcoholic. Stupid maybe, but not an alcoholic” He said. Your head lifted to meet his eyes as a scoff left your lips.

“You aren’t stupid, you know you aren’t stupid.” You muttered. He smiled, his hand on your back encouraging you closer towards him.

“Then trust me.” He spoke.

Your eyebrow raised. He didn’t stop there. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you, god id rather lose my entire IQ and everything else than ever hurt you — Yes there will be hard times, of course there will, but we work through it. There is no reason why we couldn’t make us work. I love you. You know I do.” He pushed.

You paused for a moment, “Spencer” It was warning.

“You love me too. No matter how much you try not to or deny it. You love me” He just kept pushing and his words stuck something, causing your ribcage to ache as your heart thumped against it.

“Its not that simple-“ He didn’t wait to hear your argument as his hands cupped your face. “I love you, do you understand that? I love you. You love me. I love you, how many times do I have to say it before you believe it? What will it take for you to let me love you?”

Your lips pursed, “Stop talking”

But he didn’t.

“You love me, just admit it” He pleaded as his hands cupped your jaw. It made it clench in his grasp.

Of course you loved him, that didn’t make it easier to let him in, it didn’t stop your mind coursing with every single way that this could ruin everything between the two of you. The years of friendship, the dynamic, everything could fall apart.

He sighed when you didn’t answer him. His hands fell from your face and you instantly felt the burn from the cold air around you that replaced them.

“We have a 50/50 chance.” He breathed out as he leant back from you. His hands stayed reaching out for your own. The screaming in your mind telling you to run and leave now was ignored when you fingers intwined with him.

He made so easy to stay.

He watched you open your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “Yes, there is the chance that we wont work out, not that i see it but realistically there is that chance. However there is an 100% chance that we can work through whatever issues arise. There is no question about whether I love you enough to stay through hard times. All you have to do is trust me. Take the chance and trust me.” He spoke clearly. His eyes glazed over with emotions he tried to downplay.

“There is nothing that I don’t want to know about you, there is nothing about you I wouldn’t fall completely in love with” He said quieter this time.

You breath caught in your throat. Your mind racing with contradicting feelings. Nothing you were capable of putting into words as everything you tried to keep buried inside you rose to the surface before you could stop it. The look on his face told you enough to know he wasn’t going to drop this, there was nothing you could do to push him far enough away for him to stop wanting you all the same.

That was terrifying, it was confronting and overwhelming. It was too much.

Your body was quick to move towards him. You didn’t want to say you threw yourself at him, but you basically did. Your lips were on his and your hands were tangled in his hair. Every emotion and feeling you couldn’t admit out was made all too clear in the way your lips pressed against his.

He kissed you back with the same intensity. His hands pulling you closer as his other cupped your jaw, fingertips curling into your hair. Every unspoken word. Everything you tried to deny made clear in your lips against his.

“I love you” You said, chest heaving when you pulled away from his lips, your forehead falling against his as heavy breaths left your mouth. His hand stayed on your jaw and you leant into the touch. “Im sorry— I love you, you know I do. I know I do — I- You are so- I love you” It comes out as a ramble

“You idiot.” He muttered, shaking his head. A wide smile deeming place on his face. His hand dragging you towards his lips once more.

“I love you like a sailor, even though that analogy is cringey, and sickeningly sweet. I love you” You breathed out once his lips pulled away from yours.

He only grinned wider. “What happened to them being stupid drunks?” He teased, mocking your earlier words as his hand came to push a strand of hair out of your face.

You shrugged, “Im okay with being like a stupid drunk when it comes to you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds show #criminalmindsfans #criminal minds x reader #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #wattpad #criminal minds one shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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anantaru · 1 year ago

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BONUS KINK — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — ayato, neuvillette, dottore, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (male! receiving) & oral (fem! receiving), maid! reader in ayato's part, forbidden romance, toxic, dottore's part is kind of scary but what's new

𖧡 — AYATO

this, everything, made no sense and how come the answers ayato sought after were regarded as futile?

he certainly knows it— but no one was able to make him feel just the way you did, with his jaw slacked and his rumbling groans growing dangerously loud, his abdominal muscles twitching delightfully taut beneath the drag of your fingertips prancing over the curves and rills.

to be honest— it's somewhat confusing him, because he was certain you were only putting on a glorious facade to please him, perhaps even do this just because he was your boss, not because you actually liked it, or liked him for that matter.

a ragged mutter, low and with a mouth full, huffs over his dripping cock when your head expertly rolls up and down his rigid erection and traps searing twitches straight to his cock— and as a man with an important reputation to be upheld, ayato instinctively slaps one hand over his parted mouth to catch his sensual noises before they could bubble out of him.

the yashiro commissioner, revealed in his elevated eminence, that he was of calculative and prestigious nature, although right now, all of his well-trained strength was altered into smoke with a snap of your finger and well, your cheeks hollowing so unbelievably tight that you could taste him on your velvety tongue, while your hand eagerly sneaks down from your exposed tits to in between your legs, placing lazy strokes on your neglected clit and putting on a sweet show for your master, evidently feeling the effects when he throbs and twitches on your tongue as a response.

it was hard to tell, and you could notice that his breathing was beginning to quicken, electrifying your needfulness, groping and battering the thin skin covering his balls, running your fingers around all the little ridges until you hear him desperately writhe and sob, like he's been touch starved for months.

if all of this combined— your subtle looks up to make sure he's enjoying it, your immediate willingness to spend your night with him— wouldn't be noticed by a clever man, the yashiro commissioner, who was daily facing important paths head one, and wouldn't even realize that you are always there without demanding something in return, or hoping for a favor or just acquire a chance to play him like a violin.

ayato cannot fathom it, even after looking into the light of your eyes, that you do care, and him being of higher power wouldn't change a thing.

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

for all times, you have never questioned the relationship you had with monsieur neuvillette, not only because it was something you thoroughly enjoyed yourself but also because you can avidly see that coming into contact with human affections for once in his life, feeling them circulate over his trembling skin, made the eminent man relax on this particular occasion.

his eyes erstwhile spin gentle without that serious look towering on his face— and it felt good when he touched you, a sharp cry bristling upon your very lips when he laps his tongue over a satisfying spot on your pussy, his eyes searching yours for constant approval before he makes himself even more comfortable in between your quivering thighs.

simply put, you won't lie to yourself, but it was frightening— in fact, the first time neuvillette made his interest in you clear, you thought you were about to be sentenced to a crime, on the brink of a mental breakdown due to the unspecified attention the iudex of fontaine had suddenly given you.

but after a while, you found yourself loving it and cannot hide that there were certain benefits of being in a 'special' relationship with a man of high status such as he was— although, it's always a bit clumsy at first, his tendencies to lean awkwardly on his other arm to get the best angle or hold your hand while he rolls his tongue over your glistening folds, always so eager to please and before you know it, after some careful maneuvering neuvillette gets it right, pressing the tip of his tongue steadily in and out of your hole.

despite the fact that he wasn't aware of his hidden talent of hitting all of your secret spots and giving them their much deserved attention, you frantically clench your fists at the disheveled bedsheets underneath your frame, bucking your hips into his mouth only to be roughly forced back down by the weight of two strong arms on top of your lower belly, keeping you still.

a repeating fury of his hot tongue fucks into your sloppy hole that was greatly amplified by a low growl coming his throat, your lewd arousal melting on his cheeks and chin and it's nearly weakening his state of mind to feel your silken warmth define the shape of his long tongue repeatedly entering you.

for neuvillette, despite everything, he was overwhelmed in this new and strangely comforting setting— but there were rare moments, kisses and affirmations as deep-running as roots, that are trapped in an eclipse of a second, meaning when two souls dip into each other like a ray of sunshine brushing on ones skin.

such constellation were those moments shared with you to neuvillette, and he'd like to keep it that way.

𖧡 — DOTTORE

otherworldly power and the ability to hold yourself on par with literal gods certainly was one of the beneficial factors that strengthened your attraction to dottore— who always worked his way around your body with an alacrity that truly surprised you, with precision, like no other and an ulterior motive, you were blind to.

your soft hands are both placed against his bare chest when he drags his rigid length unthinkingly deep into your cunt, taking advantage of your body as you pressed willingly into him, eagerly riding and moaning above, his touch so unlike any others.

his full lips curve into a handsome smirk, dark eyes sweeping your breath away, "you know what to do," he drawls, sighing deep in his chest when your silken walls envelope him, "do a good job, and you'll get what you want," dottore continues to affirm you, finding revel in your wet and willing warmth.

"or fail, and i'll put you to better use," he warns softly.

you catch his lips form into a slackened mouth, his large palms skimming across your exposed chest as he pulls those wanton, engaging tunes from your throat with ease, your cunt sinking and twisting around his length as you gasped for air, the painful ache manifesting in between your thighs coming second place as nothing, and you mean nothing, ever came close to this.

dottore wanted more, you weren't aware of it yet but he always required more of his experiments, meaning he needed to see results from them— wanted to ruin your soul, it's vitality and your resolve, even if it meant that he had to act out a couple instances and mask himself a liar— his legs parting a little further as he kicks his hips up, giving you everything you needed with his pseudo sweet words and affirmations twisting across your entire body.

your hips were bouncing up and down his length as you clench around him, impatiently trashing your breathing as you helplessly claw red marks deep across his pale chest, your breasts spilled loose before he holds them in his palms, suffocating the last line of defense inside of your body as you practically gasp for air with dottore twisting around every rational instinct left in your exhausted frame.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

"hmm?" alhaitham raises a brow, "what's that look on your face?"

pondering above you, his eyes reveal a sprinkle of illumination and give off a subtle shade of light which only made you realize that he wasn't really waiting for an answer from you, at all, and instead greatly rejoiced in having you where he wanted you to be all time long, pressed under his large frame.

you relax slightly, your shoulders dropping an inch back into the silken pillows as alhaitham mentally applauded himself for such monumental effort to gnaw down one penetrative self satisfied smirk when he feels you twitch around his thick length, "what's that look on your face?"

"you scared?"

you suddenly spit back, still favoring the side of him where he wouldn't talk, "shut it," and as stated, keep his mouth sealed, your fingertips sweeping over his biceps and all across his tensed shoulders before teasingly pressing your nails into the flesh, making him flinch and groan at the sensual state.

"that's not how you talk to a superior, you know,"

your naked figure shivers beneath his crawling gaze when he reminded you of an obvious fact, alhaitham was your superior— your boss, and such constellation was certainly new to the both of you nor was it allowed in the first place.

what if someone was to find out? would the scribe even get in trouble? certainly not after everything he has done for sumeru.

but it's second-place when he makes you twitch and turn beneath his large body beginning to move and crowd your spongy insides with a restless snap of his hips, repeatedly sinking his erection all the way until he was completely inside, deliciously mirroring the past couple of times where he had perfectly memorized your reactions— aside from your moans and pleas that would always start and end with a;

"this was the last time!"

but alhaitham never fails to feverishly thrust his shaft into you, "more—," you crave, urgent with need, your quivering body nearly destroyed by the lust he was the cause of, both trembling at the very edge of a blissful orgasm as he slides in and out, inch by inch, pressing you down the bed so you could never forget those moments again— even if one day, you would have to part ways.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #dottore x reader #dottore smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #kinktober #genshin x you #genshin Impact x you #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Baby Daddy

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Smut

Request: Yes and I did this happily because it came from the best (Would have been happy either way but that just makes it better)

summary: Charles and Max decided to see who can get reader knocked up first.

Warnings: Breeding kink, PinV, vomiting, double penetration, teasing, praising+degrading

Notes: The author liked this one. The author will now be jumping in holy water.

masterlist

The following media is not intended for minors. Please don't interact if you're under the age of 18.

She wasn’t sure how the conversation started. She knew both boys wanted to start a family, and she was in the height of a baby fever that she can’t escape from. So, asking about it made sense.

Not that they were mad. Of course not. They just couldn’t decided who would be the one to be the biological father.

“I think we should make it a competition.” Max’s smug face makes her pale. It’s never a good sign when he brings up that word.

“Winner gets to choose the order of out last names.” Charles demands. Another argument they’d been having recently.

“What about me?! I’m the one who’s carrying the baby!”

“You can choose where yours goes no matter who wins.”

“Sounds fair to me.” She smiles with satisfaction. At least she knows there is an ungodly amount of good sex coming her way.

Three months of trying. She was sore after every race. not for the reasons of her lovers. But because of what they to do her. their competitive spits had yet to falter. Much to her benefit and pleasure.

Six months of trying and she was starting to lose confidence in herself. Her doctor said she’s fine, but it doesn’t stop the stupid thoughts because all three of them want this entirely to much.

A year and she’s given up on thinking about it. They are obviously still trying, but it’s not something that she talks about much anymore. She knows that it takes longer for some and she’s okay with that. She just avoids the subject as much as possible.

The night Max wins his second championship title is about how’d you expect it to be. Except for the part where him and Charles are in the corner with the tiniest bit of alcohol in their drinks.

They eye her in that stupid dress she knows they love, dancing rather suggestively with Kika and Lily. She’d been staying away from alcohol as of late so they know she’s not even close to tipsy. Yet the look on her face as she dances could make anyone think she was.

‘I think we should get out of here before we do something stupid.” Suggests Charles without breaking his gaze.

“Like what?”

“Take here right here and now.”

The boys startle her as they drag her away from her friends. She hardly even registers they are in the car going to the hotel. “Did I do something wrong?” The sincerity in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Max leans down to whisper in her ear. “Just thinking about getting this dress off of you."

Charles runs his fingers along her thighs, causing her to shiver. His mouth finds the crook of her neck and lays gentle kisses down to her collar bone.

She feels for the taxi driver. The poor man is subjected to whatever is happening in his back seat.

"Gonna take you home and put a baby in you." The Monegasque moans into her skin. It was making her feel in a way that had her squeezing her legs together.

They continued riling her up the entire way back to their hotel room. Even getting hands in the elevator and in the hall, which was thankfully empty.

Max gets the door to the room open. Then, the two males waste no time litterally ripping the dress off of her. Her clothes are gone in seconds.

Their hands are everywhere she doesn't want them. She's left squirming beneath their hold. Pinned to the bed in a way that leaves her more vulnerable. Every peice of herself exposed to them.

And they know exactly what they're doing.

Max runs a single finger over her slit. "Look, Charlie, I think she wanted this."

"Already so wet for us chéri." Charles moves from where he was attacking her neck down to her tits and attacks them instead. His tongue doing a number on the sensitive area.

Max slips a finger inside of her. To slow for her liking. She tries to buck her hips to get more friction only for Max's unoccupied hand to put more wait on her hips. "This is what you get for teasing us in that dress."

"Mm Maxy, think about how she'd look in the dress all swollen with our child." Charles hands barey touch her stomach, and yet it still has her back arching.

Max jumps off of her and is immediately pulling Charles up with him. He gives her a pointed look and tells her to stay.

And then their hands explore each other. Peeling each piece of clothing off the other in record time.

"If you're trying to get me to cum now to you have an advantage, it's nit going to work." Charles says as Max rolls his eyes and stops any movement he was making.

"I have an idea." Max mumbles.

"That's never a good sign."

"Well fine! I guess you don't want to hear how we could make this even."

The female looks between the two bickering and is interested in what he has to say. But also scared. Scared the she won't be able to walk for a week.

And she's right because soon enough, she is lying back against Charles with his cock inside of her. She can't stop moaning as Max leans over the top of them.

Even. She officially hates that word. And yet here she is being turned on by the fact that both boys will be inside her at the same time. Fingers crossed, they don't rip her open in the process.

"You sure you wanna try this?" Max looks at her for approval, and even with her initial fear, she knows they would never hurt her.

"Just go slow, please."

Max starts slow. Charles bites into her shoulder at the friction of her and Max. She can feel all of his muscles tensing underneath her as Max takes his sweet time pushing into her.

It hurts. She knows it won't in a couple of minutes. But right now, the stretch if it all burns like white hot fire.

When both are in her, they take care to help her relax until her body adjusts to the size. They wipe away her tears as she sinks into their hold.

"So good for us, amour. Taking both of us so beautifully." Charles exhales a breathy moan as if to further prove his point.

"Fuck schat, you look so pretty taking us so well."

And then everything went fuzzy. The friction of the two males was too much. Moving in and out in tandem; perfectly in sync with each other. Her thoughts seemed to be replaced only with them. Their breathing, the sounds, the feeling of skin on skin.

"Dobyou want it, schat? You want us to put a baby in you?"

She can't actually speak properly, but there is definitely a yes that can be heard in her moans.

Their praises are only pushing her closer to her breaking point. "I'm- please- I can't."

She doesn't even have time to warn them. She can't warn them. She can't hear them either. Her nails are buried in their skin.

They spill into her simultaneously. Their bodies are perfectly connected with each other. It feels overwhelming and terribly beautiful. The feeling of them spilling inside of her at the same time.

When they come down from the high is the hard part. Max slides out first, and Charles follows, slowly and gently. They collapse in a heap of exhaustion. The emotional tie and physical tie completely took their energy.

"Do you think maybe this time...?" She trails. Her question weighs on them.

"In time, mon amour. We'll still be here even if it's not."

Summer break is a time to recuperate. The three of you are on summer vacation, spending time together on the beach.

That night had been a month a half ago. The female had yet to realize she was late to her cycle. Opting to ignore it and assume she's just messed up for some reason.

The second to last morning of their trip, she woke up feeling absolutely terrible.

She snuck out of bed as quickly as she could without waking the boys who are much heavier sleepers than her anyway.

The nausea feeling was overpowering, and it didn't matter how stealthy she was. They woke up to the sound of her spilling the contents of her stomach.

And then every day after the the point everyone is concerned.

Two months and still no period, she finds herself at the doctors. The boys are back to racing, but with her state, she decided to stay in Monaco.

A decision she was now regretting while having the test from the doctor in her hands.

She is definitely pregnant this time. The paper in her hands says it clear as day.

It is only Friday. She has time to get out to the race to surprise them. And with that idea floating in her head, she calls Pascale.

Her and Pascale arrived to the track fifteen minutes into the race. The older woman is making a fuss over her as she tries to jog to the redbull garage. She was in Ferrari last time, and Redbull is closer to her anyway.

Pascale shakes her head as she watches the female slip into hospitality.

Max and Charles both made podium. She was absolutely ecstatic and even more so that Christian helped her get to where they would park.

They didn't notice her at first, even doing a double take at her and then each other. Then, with their helmets off, they ran to great her.

Their smiles were so big that she thought they might fall off.

They both attempted to embrace her through the divider, and she was able to slip her test results into the hand of Charles.

They looked at her skeptically before once again, having to leave her.

It wasn't until the cooldown room that they had a chance to look. Charles tentatively unfolds the paper and holds it out on front of him and Max.

The cameras got a lovely picture of the two hugging very tightly despite being 'rivals', and the happy tears from Charles could be made out even through the sweat.

Did it have people looking at the scene a little funny? Yes. She could hear the gasps of disapproval, but she didn't care. The teams know already and gave them the go-ahead over a year ago to make the relationship public.

She watches them with love and adoration.

"Definitely mine."

"No way! The baby will look like me!"

She rolls her eyes at the two. "Does it matter?" They look at her with mouths agape.

She is actively holding the paper that determines who wins. The paper that will tell them who the biological father is.

And she rips it.

Because no matter what, they are a family. The boys are looking at her endearingly despite the fact that she just took away their results. Because it doesn't matter. They are making their own little family and they couldn't be happier.

So, the argument of the last name order continues one.

1K notes · View notes

annefolklore · 1 year ago

Text

“We should become friends with benefits”

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Fem reader

Warnings: reader has female anatomy, oral (fem receiving), squirting, slapping (not a lot), pussy slapping (once), overstimulation

“Yes Ethan, just like that!” You scream as your grip on his hair tightens when he sucks on your bundle of nerves while swirling his tongue around it.

He was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. His hands were keeping your legs in the air while you sat on the couch in your shared appartement, him on his knees before you.

You couldn’t believe what was happening: how could your own best friend’s head be in between your fingers while he fucked you with his wet pink muscle. You were a moaning mess, completely at his mercy while he abused your core.

It happened because you were (half) joking about wanting your pussy eaten really bad and the same day, Ethan proposed to elevate you guys friendship to a more intimate and touchy level. Well in fact, y’all relationship was already really affectionate before all this.

No wonder everyone around shipped you together. You were attached to the hip, always sitting together and most of the time you were on his lap, you already slept in the same bed and even already made out!…but it was all without any feelings right?

So at the end of the day, the only things you guys have never done before was sex, but you could check it off the paper.

“You taste so fucking good baby” he moaned when he backed a bit to finger your dripping hole with his thick and long fingers.

His lower-face was shining because of your arousal and some strand of his hair were sticking to his hair because of his own sweat. His lips were parted as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“Yeah?” Your question got strangled by a moan when he brushed your g-spot.

“So fucking fucking good” he whimpered again before spitting on your glistening cunt.

He dived back in and ate you out like his life depends on your pleasure. At this point, your eyelids were shut thight and your hips were bucking as he moved you up and down on his tongue.

You made more and more noises as his assault on your clit increased and his fingers curled way more.

His own hips were trusting unconsciously into the air to relieve his own boner that is still confined into his jeans.

The squelching sound of your vagina, your moans and the spanking sound from when Ethan slapped your inner tigh from time to time were filling the room and was melody to Ethan’s ears.

The tight knot inside you exploded when he started moaning with your clit in his mouth, sending vibrations all over the pleasure button and at the same time, his fingers hitted perfectly the squishy spot inside you.

“Yes, Ethan! Fuck!” You screamed in high pitch as the wave of your climax washed over you.

He continued to eat you out throughout your orgasm and you kept him there until your legs started shaking and it was too much for you to handle.

You tried pushing his head away and closing your thigh around it but he only opened them with force and continued to swallow every drop of nectar you could give him. He stuck his tongue inside you once again while you were still screaming of overstimulation.

You could feel something else growing inside of you as he did so. Something much stronger than the already amazing orgasm he just provided you.

He pushed you into his tongue so it could go deeper in your sweet entrance before pulling out to suck your pulsating clit once again.

That’s when the thing inside you snapped and a clear liquid rushed out of you, asperging Ethan. He backed his head from your pussy and instead his fingers started rubbing on it, fast as more juice squirted out of you as you screamed his name.

You felt tears in your eyes at this point and your moans transformed to sobs.

Ethan was enjoying this way more than he should. His best friend was beneath him, completely at his mercy and crying of pleasure under his touch. His face, hands and forearm were wet because of you and he couldn’t be happier than that.

“Pleas-e stop” you begged as tears rolled down your cheeks and Ethan forced you to stay high into your orgasm.

He only chuckled before giving your core a light slap and finally removing his hand from you.

You were amazed at what Ethan has just done to you. You weren’t expecting that to happen at all. You thought he would only give you an orgasm, nothing special…but this? Your best friend just made you cry of pleasure and made you squirt for the first time.

You could feel your heartbeat on your abused pussy while your clit was pulsating like crazy and your legs still shaking.

“Look at the mess you made,” he laughed while looking at the bed sheets.

He was right, under you was a big wet spot on the bed. You tried to move but your shaking legs thought otherwise.

You laid back down on the bed and wiped your tears away, not knowing what to think of what you just did.

“Honestly, that was fucking hot” Ethan said and you looked at him only to find him sucking your liquid on his fingers.

“Don’t do this” you whispered as you looked at him sucking a second finger.

“Why not? You taste amazing” he asked before lowering himself until he was kissing you.

You immediately returned his kiss and enrolled your legs around his waist to press him against you.

“We should become friends with benefits” he says when he backs up to breath.

“Eth, the way you just ate my pussy already spoke for you. Of course we are now” you answer.

He smirked before lowering himself again to continue your make out session.

3K notes · View notes

therealslimshakespeare · 4 months ago

Text

|| Sanchez ||

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1943

Summary: Upon being shot down on his last mission, Major Gale Cleven finds himself in the company of a female officer -and not one from the 100th. While already inclined to show solidarity, the increasing threat towards his fellow officer forces him to act. The jeopardy such action puts him in is more than he could have ever estimated, as is the fallout upon finding women he knows in the stalag

Cast: Cleven, Sanchez, Demarco, Brady, Egan, Kendeigh, Lu Smith, Ida Brady

Author’s note: the first portion of this segment is in the immediate time frame of Gale being downed. The second portion follows the events of What Took Him So Long? the mirroring of both these segments will hopefully prove enjoyable but I worry perhaps confusing

Content Warning: due to the disturbing content listed below the cut, I understand some may choose not to read this segment. If you’d like an abridged summary of the events herein to keep up with the series, I’d be happy to supply that 💋🌹

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply 18+ additionally for this chapter there are warnings for depiction of rape. This entire arc was produced on popular request, i have tried to portray the brutal events found herein in the most elevated and respectful terms I found effective. I would not call it graphic, however, it’s not vague either. And it’s rape. Male and female. Depiction of rape and discussion of past rape. Violence as well, obviously, fucking Nazis, ptsd from said assaults, choking, hints of childhood trauma, mentions of medical experiments. General cloud of dread. With light at the end of the tunnel.

Note: my blog and writings are strictly 18+, this means that we are all adults here enjoying free connection and art. The themes of this particular story are mature, at times harrowing and for some, potentially intolerable. No worries if the latter is your case, feel free to move on or block tags. On the other hand, please take responsibility for your reading, I provide warnings as a courtesy but I cannot cover them all and if something doesn’t sit right, please exercise adult autonomy and make your way to the nearest exit. Xo

When Gale extended his hand to aid the next prisoner up into the truck, he hadn't anticipated one so small or so brown. Busted knuckles that had rivulets of crimson pouring over copper flesh; he was mildly fascinated by it. His concussed mind flashed to ‘Lu Smith and her shaded face, before belatedly realizing it was indeed a woman’s lighter frame he was hauling in beside him to the shrill insistence of German threats.

The woman who flopped on the bench opposite him, legs spread wide and boots braced with a brow like a thundercloud, was not Smith. And for that Cleven was relieved.

Last he had seen of Ida and Graham’s fort, they’d been carrying on over Breman, and while he had every reason to think few had made it back, who’s to say they weren’t lucky? And Ida could fly a tin can on the fumes of an alcoholic's breath. Smith wasn’t here, Ida either, and he tried to arrange his mind to that, to not even let the doubt creep in, and instead took to studying the newcomer in between the passing of more downed airmen filling the benches.

The incessant barking of their dogs must have been half strategy, the throbbing in his back working its way into his head as the minutes went by. It had taken too long for them to be brought to Luftwaffe jurisdiction, he knew that much, even with giving them the benefit of the doubt for wartime communication failures and muddy roads. He’d been well read and prepared and braced for the outcome of being downed since before they left the states, grilled his men on procedure, on their rights, their privileges as prisoners of war, also on their duties to silence. The fact he’d never truly thought it would happen to him didn’t mean he wasn’t perfectly knowledgeable about the requirements.

So far Cleven had managed not to say a single word to anyone, the farmer with the pitchfork probably didn’t speak English and a wheezy “please don’t kill me” seemed like a flaccid bunch of last words that Gale refused to let off his tongue.

Instead he let them haul him to the nearest company of Wehrmacht soldiers and had been marched for ages by them, had seen and given Benny a nod when his column of prodded, sheepskin wearing sad bastards merged with Buck’s column of the same. Kendeigh hadn’t been there; crew get themselves killed in a hard landing as often as an exploded plane.

Cleven thought about breaking the silence now to ask the woman opposite where the hell she came from, her patches not what he was used to. But no, bad precedent, he stayed quiet and watchful as the Krauts pushed the last of the men into the overcrowded truck and snapped the tailgate shut. Someone could easily make a run for it by jumping out, but the jeep following behind at a steady few yards with a bristling assortment of machine guns suggested against it.

Once the truck began to move, Benny leaned forward beside him on their jostling journey and motioned in an ingratiating arc at the woman’s patches. “I don’t know those.” he said what Gale had been thinking, half yelling over the clamor of voices and the roar of the truck engine, “Looks half like varsity shit.”

Gale wasn’t sure his kindhearted co-Pilot meant those sorts of digs out of innocence or as a tactic to get reticent folks to defend themselves with the very information they might has previously withheld. As said, Gale didn’t know, but he knew it never failed. The woman went from scowling at Cleven -a pastime she had set herself to with such diligence that every time he tried to make discreet observance of her she already had her eyes on him- and turned to Benny.

“201st, fighters.” well that explained nothing and everything. “Sanchez.” she offered Benny after a beat, maybe knowing her name was hardly damning considering her looks.

Kinda like how Benny looked and sounded likely to have a name that started with “De-“ and a dog named meatball. “Eagle Wings, huh?” Benny nodded at the patch. “And a uh, uh triangle.” he couldn’t make it out all the way from his seat, but Buck could -the patch read ‘Mexico’ above a magnificent spread of Eagle Wings with a green triangle as the body.

They were all a long way from home.

“Aztec,” Sanchez tweaked it, “Aztec Eagles.”

“Mexican?” Benny asked, the accent wasn’t one he commonly heard in Philly but even crappy shows and movies got some things right, and Benny had seen his fair share of westerns.

“Sanchez.” she repeated instead and was back to scowling at Buck.

They seemed to drive for all day, until the light began to dim and what was a pleasant day turned into a misty chill as evening grew near.

The truck came to a halt at last, barbed wire and mud about them and the painted checkpoint arm whirled by as they drove into the dulag and came to a final stop. In the quiet that followed the cut of the engines, the rain was suddenly audible, pattering on the canvas above them. At the resumption of barked order and harsh commands the prisoners stood up, gingerly hopping out of the truck with just enough quickness not to be hit and just enough slowness not to be shot. Didn't help much anyway, muzzles were pointed quite liberally around here and you just had to hope the trigger fingers weren’t so generous.

The dulag guards turned away a good seven of those remaining after the packed truck had dispensed its human cargo. They didn't have enough room.

Go up further, to the next one, go to Frankfurt -those seemed to be the directions.

Directions their drivers and guards took poorly; it was late, it was drizzling and Buck could guess how little they enjoyed the on-edge detail of ferrying outnumbering prisoners around the countryside. They cut down on the number of guards, five to go with: a driver, two in the jeep, one more in the cab and another supposed to be with them in the truck back.

After a bit more haggling, the Dulag accepted three more prisoners. Cleven made sure to stay put, he didn’t know the foreign arguments well enough to decipher all but half the protesting seemed to be over who got Sanchez. And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her here without a superior officer as defense. A dulag guard had hopped up into the truck and shined his flashlight at Buck’s markings, that’s when he mentioned something about Frankfurt.

Benny didn’t move without Cleven and so, when the truck took off again into the evening gloom, it was Buck and Benny and Sanchez and another hapless kid who looked all of fifteen and was, according to his over liberal offer of conversation, a scared shitless waist gunner.

“They’re arguing over you.” Cleven finally chose to speak up. It could get rough, the guards’ distinction of her. He felt it with a premonitory dread that came from too many right predictions as a child. He hated this feeling, he hated how right it usually was, he hated how it was usually met with folks telling him he worried too much. He’d taken to not saying much the older he grew, watching things play out, grieving over foreseen misfortunes all on his own. Until he met Bucky. But right now he had to speak up, this time he had to.

Yet Sanchez remained scowling, “They argued over you.” she retorted.

Gale gave her a tight smile, “I’m a major.”

“I’m a lieutenant.”

“I can see that.” he proceeded cautiously, “But they just took in a baker's dozen of lieutenants. No problem. But they didn’t take you.”

“Didn’t take him either.” she nodded to Benny.

“His captain’s ass never left the seat.” Cleven said, “You were on the ground, ready, they put you back. I’m tellin’ you, if they can’t decide who you are, where you go, I’m gonna need your assurance you’ll fight like hell with me. For recognition of it.”

-Just don’t say I worry too much, Gale thought desperately, he could almost feel Bucky’s gentle squeeze of his shoulder, like shaking out the tension in a cat as he said the same; his back was so stiff he thought it might snap if Bucky did it now but -but John wasn’t here. Thank Almighty God.

“You know you look more German than most of our guards.” Sanchez replied and Benny suddenly snapped to attention beside him at that. “I’m not assuring you of shit.”

“He’s not a damn spy!” Benny insisted, more loudly and vehemently than was maybe best with guards all around.

“You know this how?” she asked, unmoved.

“He’s my goddamn co-Pilot.”

“Pilot?”

“Ya think he just ripped his own cheek open for a part?”

Sanchez swayed with the jerk of a pothole and shook her head, “Maybe you both are.”

Smart, and a worse worrier than himself. Cleven liked her immensely and stared out the flap of the tarp, watching the rain pour down, dusk fully settling over everything outside and the trailing jeep’s headlights poured into their little haven, whiting-out his vision of the road.

“I’m not leavin’ this seat ‘till a Dulag takes you.” he told her, it was all he had to give. For her part she seemed determined to wait and see before expending any thanks. He didn’t expect it.

They weren’t in any city when the truck brakes checked them in a squeaking lurch, followed by the sound of tires turning off gravel and into squelching mud and then the echoing silence of the engine being cut once more. This wasn’t Frankfurt, and this was no engine failure. From the headlights of the following jeep, all Gale could make out was trees. So many damn trees. It had stopped raining.

“This isn’t Frankfurt.” He remarked to the guard sitting with them, the sullen fellow had not said a word for five hours and he didn’t start spilling now.

The others made an appearance when they joined them in the truck, hopping up with muddy jackboots and the clatter of what seemed to be a portable camp stove, along with rucksacks, utensils and the like. They unwound rope from the cloth neck of one sack and poured out oats, and another seemed to have been wrapping some preserved sort of meat. Gale eyed the discarded rope where it lay on the floor with the lust of a man used to working with what he was given, while Benny stared with barely concealed longing at the now simmering concoction on the tin stove.

These guards made conversation, or at least they tried. But not even the scared little gunner was in the mood to reply, and so it remained one sided. His boys hadn’t eaten since chow this morning at the crack of dawn, and Cleven didn’t blame them for their hunger but his own stomach was in loathsome, uneasy knots, and by observance of Sanchez’s wary sullenness, he figured he wasn’t alone in that. A dinner break for the Germans was one thing, he guessed, but the solitude was oppressive along with the forced proximity of all these grinning enemies stirring and chopping their porridge bits and laughing amongst themselves on the benches and floor next to them.

When they offered Demarco a hunk of whatever they had prepared, to his credit, Benny didn’t even acknowledge them. Their offer had been mocking enough, even without understanding the language.

“You must be hungry, ja?” The one with sergeant stripes cajoled, greasy teeth flashing, the muggy smells of rain and sweat and steaming food were all so noxiously trapped under the tarp, Gale had to bite his cheek to keep down the salient precursors of vomit.

The sergeant tried it on Sanchez next, insistently holding out a hunk of the meat impaled on the knife tip. She wouldn’t even look at him and that was an admirable thing until it served to anger him, and the man reached out, hand snagging in her waistband and hauling her smaller body beside him on the bench with ease. Benny was almost to his feet when Cleven fetched him back with a grip of his own, sitting him down firmly.

He managed to keep his voice perfectly neutral when interrupting the man’s flashlight lit perusal of Sanchez’s frozen features, “Hey, she doesn’t mean any harm, you let her go now.”

The sergeant looked up, less surprised to have gained a reaction from Gale but maybe at hearing his voice at last. “Only trying to be good hosts, ja? She von’t eat. Neither you?”

“Just not hungry.” Gale countered mildly.

“But ve must thank you,” the Sergeant laughed, and Sanchez stayed stiff as board in his grip, shying away from the still offered meat as much as the touch “so many parcels of gifts you drop.”

“Let her go.” Gale insisted, gently.

“She not drop zeez parcels?” The sergeant asked.

“She’s not a bomber.” Gale grit his teeth, “I do the dropping.”

The sergeant pulled her jacket apart in curiosity, thumbing at the patches, “Not’z a bomber?” Cleven felt his tongue go numb as the man tugged at her clothes, it was a curious inspection so far and yet- “Then it’s you should be given meat, ja?” The man left off his tugging and rose from his squat on the floor to approach Gale, the man was huge upon closer acquaintance, “For Hamburg,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his anger more palpable up close, and he pressed the meat to Gale’s tightly shut mouth, “and for ze little ones you turned to ash with your parcels.”

Gale kept his jaw locked and his mouth shut, eyes meeting the sergeants’, unblinking and unsorry.

“Open!”

Gale didn’t obey. The man sighed as if he were actually a host turned down. Gale could feel Benny’s eyes on him, wary, careful, his whole posture shockingly good at blending in, a damn good man to have next to you in a place like this.

“We have no beer,” the man confessed, knife and meat still pressing insistently, “or else we would offer it for such heroes. But not to fret, you have provided refreshment, ja? Full belly and beer iz ze best, full belly and a voman iz better.”

Carefully Gale turned his head away from the offered chunk, “That's a prisoner of war, not a woman.” He saw how little effect that had and added for benefit, “And your superiors are waiting for her.”

The man scoffed loudly and turned towards his men who were, Gale could now perceive past his bulk, scraping the last of their tin plates without so much as looking at the bowls -they were eying her. With intent. The kind of intent Gale wished he didn’t recognize but he did, carnival dins and race tracks after dark being hardly the best places to grow up unless you wanted to learn how often folks really would act on their worst impulses.

Not tonight, not if he could fucking help it. By Benny’s taut posture beside him, he knew he had an ally in the assumption that this would end in a fight. He eyed the rope lying on the floor.

“Eat with us.” The sergeant insisted, “She von’t be alive to tell on you, prisoners make a run for it all ze time. Must be shot. Ve’ll let you fuck her too.”

Oh Jesus- “Your superiors know-“ Cleven reminded, voice starting to shake in rage from the keyed up adrenaline he was barely keeping a lid on.

“-zey know emergencies happen.” The man snapped, almost annoyed at Gale’s persistence, as if he expected less protest from an airman at the prospect of one of his own being abused. “Zey would send more guards if zey cared as much as you ‘sink.”

The men had finished their bowls, they set them aside on the bench, pushing the stove away as well. Clearing the floor.

“Or fuck, oh fuck.” the gunner kid, who Gale had almost forgotten about on his end of the bench, began to panic, sounding like he was retching his prayers.

Gale met Benny’s eyes, then down to the rope on the floor, then back up. It was good to have a man who got it. Always got it, his Benny.

“Can I go first.” Gale asked, and held his breath.

“Vat?” The sergeant lowered the knife in surprise, the meat chunk slid and fell to the floor but neither cared.

Gale let his lips twitch, his eyes conspired, “I don’t wanna catch whatever shit you fuckers got.”

He could hear more than see Sanchez begin the thrash on her bench but she made no progress, maybe already being held. “And you von’t tell?” the sergeant asked.

Gale gave him a look that could be universally interpreted as ‘whadda ya think?’ and bent to retrieve the meat nugget from the muddy floor, right by the sergeant’s boot, the rope was just out of reach. When he straightened his back he popped the soiled peace offering in his mouth, he chewed it loudly, the rush of an imminent attempt thrumming so strongly in his body it replaced the queasiness for a moment. The sergeant clapped his hands together, once, in appreciation for the despicable deal.

Gale knew they wanted nothing more than sport of him, it was no comradely favor to allow him to go first, it was blackmail and it was likely something worse once he got his pants down. But they could all play along, he just needed to get close to her. They had her jacket off already, her boots, too.

This didn’t really have a chance in hell but if she was like Ida, or Smith or anyone else, she’d rather be shot barefoot than have this happen to her. Gale supposed dying with German ham stuck in his teeth was about a draw with being killed via pitchfork prongs through the belly.

He didn’t process much when he stood up: not beyond the two paces it took to get to her, the men holding her on the bench seat and wrestling at her clothes, the way Benny didn’t say a word. He really was thinking of Benny in those paces, hoping his co-pilot was ready -it didn’t occur to him even once that Demarco might be as fooled as these sick fucks around them, letting go of her all too quickly at the prospect of a degrading show.

Cleven had his hand around her necktie, pulling her off the bench before he’d even really registered being close enough, he’d forgotten how to hold his face for this act but maybe the mad determination passed for lust, he didn’t think of anything but yanking her up when he felt a sudden, stinging slice against his right cheek. She’d been waiting for this moment, smart thing had a penknife hidden somewhere, it was something one of the Banshees would have pulled, and the mirroring slice was disorienting enough that he wasted a good two seconds in smarting surprise as warm blood trickled down his chin and the guards began to shout.

Someone else wrested the knife from her grip, someone else held onto her wrist now, his moment of shocked pain wasted his fucking plan.

Still, he tried.

Cleven yanked her further toward the middle of the space, spun her around despite her incessant clawing -and maybe the actions seemed to the guards in accordance with his plan, plus some anger from the wound. He didn’t know what they thought, he only knew that no one halted him, they just gathered closer to see, never expecting it, just as he didn’t expect to manage it when he got her turned to the open flap of the tarp and bodily hurled her out its back, into the night.

Benny must’ve tripped the first one, a clunky helmet clattering as the guy fell flat at Cleven’s feet, right as he turned around to help. It wasn’t ever gonna be a nice fight, or a likely chance for her to have even a ten second start but it was something besides sitting on a bench and watching them violate a fellow officer. He’d have done the same for Benny. Just as Benny now looked pretty resigned to dying in this fight, getting in a couple of excellent, unapologetic punches with the next guard who manned up and realized what was what. -It’s gotta be a let down to be keyed up for a nice orgy in the woods only to end up having to play guard again. Gale wanted to manage to kill one before he got shot, that’s all he really wanted anymore.

And for the girl to get out, for all the girls to get out wherever they were.

He was grappling with the closest one, the guy nearest the flap who almost managed to give chase to her right away, when he felt something that gave him a chill of horror he never expected. Rope; he registered it slipping down his chin, making him let go of his opponent to try to slip his fingers between the twine and his collared throat -too late. He felt himself bodily yanked back, a burn in his throat all consuming and the sudden deprivation of air turning him into a desperate mess, nothing useful about his scuffing feet and clawing hands.

They were giving orders to go after her, and two men were scrambling out the back as Gale began to sag. From his new position gasping on the floor, Gale could see that they had a gun to Benny’s gut, while the gunner kid hadn’t needed such firmness, he was braced at the back of the truck in absolute terror.

Well this was over faster than desired but -to be expected. Fuck.

“Halt.” Cleven felt the sergeant’s boot kick at the side of his head, emphasizing his order to cease his struggles.

World grew fuzzy then, not at all like drowsy sleepiness in a hammock but instead like being caught in the river current when you thought you’d managed to strike the ford just right. Gale’s pulse thudded between his temples like the blows of a sledgehammer on his skull, his lungs burned, the cuts on his cheeks blared their pain like screaming infants demanding to be heard above the rest of the pain and terror and fury. He could taste the blood gushing out of them from the pressure, the cuts spurted and dribbled down into his already choking mouth.

What a way to go.

He felt cold air, he felt himself drug and a painful drop to what was likely muddy ground, felt himself dragged some more and his own finger -wedged between the rope and his throat- hurt him worst of all, that knuckle digging into his windpipe.

When some slack finally came, it was minimal, only enough for his body to heave and gag and try to force air into collapsed pipes, enough for sounds of cries and shots and clanking metal to flood into his consciousness. He was either at heaven’s gate or on the cold hard ground at eye level with the beaming jeep headlights -that would explain the blinding glow in his vision.

Or else, heaven wasn’t half what it was cracked up to be.

Someone or a few someone’s, were standing over him and he could see then that he was tied by the makeshift noose to the trailer hitch of the truck, tarp flaps widened far above him like stage drapes. Was Benny still alive in there?

“Maybe you defend her because you too are female?” One guard suggested while prodding at his crotch with a boot, and that made Gale’s frozen, sluggish, oxygen deprived blood begin to pound. “Hübsch.” they complimented him repeatedly -pretty, so very pretty. Too pretty for a man. “We should check, ja?”

He spared one single hope, that Benny wasn’t watching. He didn’t hope they wouldn’t act on their threats, and he hadn’t any hope left that he could actually save Sanchez from what they were even now wrestling her to the ground for. But it felt worsened somehow at the idea of his co-pilot seeing him this way, he yanked his head against the noose and regretted it after. The constriction made his eyes burn, and all his efforts were once again concentrated on grappling with his breathing as they tugged at his clothes and made sport of discovering he was not, in fact, lying about being male.

They laughed, they touched, they said he was some mistake. A face like that had no business owning a cock. He wished he knew less German, in fact he knew little but there are kindnesses and there are cruelties that need no articulation to be understood.

The earth beside him, the mud beneath Sanchez’s hands, was tilled up from her nails, like furrows for planting and her face was so near his when they threw her down, he could make out the spit and blood on her lips.

“Should I?” One was saying and they had their knife out, Gale’s panicked mind had a generous moment of hope that they would cut the rope, that he would soon be able to breathe again. Or else his throat, and he’d not breathe anymore. Both sounded perfect.

They cut open his flight suit instead, a hand heavy on the back of his head, turning him fully over, and then there was the feeling of a warm and sweaty body beginning to roll on top of him.

The mud was cold beneath his cheek, smooth on the forest floor, none of the rough gravel of that endless road, only mud and pine needles sticking to his face now, their knobby little ends roughing up the older wound on his cheek. Every time the guard pushed closer, it scraped him -that blade to his other cheek. The metal tip glittered in the periphery of his one good eye, shining from the headlights.

Sanchez had begun to scream.

Hoarse, wounded, fox like.

It felt very much like a demented dream, even down to the hunter’s attitude above him, the grunts, the prey-like waiting for the lethal blow. He wasn’t sure how long he had floated with only her wounded cries as a grounding agent when he felt a splatter against his lower back and consciousness came back with a heave of his chest and a revolt so strong he fought again against the noose. Predictably, it only tightened. There was cold on his skin then, when the man drew away, fresh night breezes mocking the mess he’d made of Gale, kerosene and exhaust fumes ruining the smell of soil beneath him. Then the heat was back, someone else draped over him, and Gale dug his fingers into the earth too, readying for what the other had spared him. It didn’t matter, if they tired themselves out with him, that was one less -now two less- to use her instead. There had been only five.

This one flipped him over, Gale went easily, both hands occupied straining to get even a finger between the asphyxiating pressure of the rope and his throat.

“He is easier now.” he heard the man laughing, foggy, hazy, unfairly. “The bitch has gone quiet, maybe he will make music, huh?”

Gale frantically turned his head to seek her out, desperate to find her alive -she couldn’t be dead. Not just from this, surely not, what could they do to kill her?-but his own vision was spotting and his throat spasmed in protest. They surely could kill them this way, they could do anything they wanted because they could kill them. And no one would ever hold them to account.

His poor girls. What were they doing to his poor girls?

It burned enough to jolt him awake again, both the forceful entry and the smack to his cut cheek. They wanted him awake, aware, he refused to look at them. This was reminiscent, bright lights and unwanted hands and all but the carnival music missing. He kept staring to the side at her, and at her face, at the way the headlights lit them both up like a carnival spectacle and cast the shadows of their tormentors in looming, grotesque proportions against the treeline. She had her eyes closed, face almost suffocated in the soil, balled fist growing lax beside his own, just out of reach. She didn’t even react when the next replaced the other. There were only five, Gale repeated to himself, there were only five.

No, no, no.

“Smith,” he begged her, “Smith don’t fuckin’ give up on me now.”

His poor girls.

Gale’s own voice made him cringe, how hoarse it was, how young, what a beg it sounded like, how punctuated each word was with the winding pain of a fresh thrust. But her eyes flew open at his call.

Sanchez, her name was Sanchez, he reminded himself. And Smith was with Ida, probably throwing the ball at the flack house after making it back from Breman. She had to be. He didn’t want to live in a world where Lu felt what he felt now as the man shuddered inside him, used him like a skein, a shell, a vessel, hot breath stinging at his cuts.

“Stay with me Sanchez.” he muttered, wondering if he had it in him to do the same. He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his tormenter any longer, he felt his face gripped and turned, cuts smarting beneath calloused fingertips, cheeks being squished like Bucky used to do in play. The yeasty splatter spit landing on his own tongue was somehow more revolting than all the rest. He gagged, he struggled, his body was on fire.

Smith was screaming again.

There were only five.

He refused to remember more until there was a sudden absence of the heat and the breath and the tearing pain, and if he wasn’t so drugged on misery he might have thought everyone seemed a little rushed at the end. Not how he expected them to be with all the time in the world to wipe their pricks, close their pants, pull out a pistol and deliver a headshot. One apiece here in the mud. See ya there, Benny, he thought dismally, not bothering to open his eyes.

But then there were sounds of squealing tires and the roar of engines and the white bright glow behind his eyelids grew in intensity until he realized -in a fumbled state of what felt like being redressed- that someone else had pulled up to this horror show. There’d only been five and now- now, oh fuck, he didn’t think he could, no, no, no, he yanked at his noose, half hoping to strangle himself or at least be caught fighting this.

If he didn’t know much German when lucid and keen, he certainly wasn’t adept at deciphering the angry babble above him when half dead, half uncaring about listening for an order to flip him over for the next or to blow his brains out. No, no he was far away in the Silver Wings and Maureen’s boot was dug into his shoulder as she turned himself and Egan into scaffolding, all to smoke the club’s ceiling with testament of their survival for their 20th. No big bash like for 25 but it had been a milestone, as terrifyingly hopeful as it had been all too fortunate. He’d seen her cry for the first time that night, hands shaking, admitting she felt in her bones they’d not be lucky, that she’d never really thought about this part, not when she joined up, about getting so close and now she wanted to see it through she was sick to death of the idea of seeing it though being a fiery death. Well, Gale knew now she’d managed to jump, she’d not known fire.

But what else, oh what else?

Next time Cleven woke he was face down on the same old bench seat from hours before, burning ribs nothing compared to the lapping flames below his waist. The truck beneath him was moving and his cut face was only partially gentled by the feel of someone’s meaty thigh beneath him. Horrified, he startled up, hating the idea of being someone’s pet after-

-but it was Benny, looking busted as hell but alive and holding onto him lest he jolt off the bench with the next pothole. As far as he could feel, Gale had his clothes on, muddy and cold and it was daylight and they were moving. A guard he didn’t recognize was on the opposite bench near the flaps, watching them curiously with a rifle slung easily over his lap. He had wings on his lapel.

Sanchez was sat as far from him as possible near the front of the truck, alive and looking for all the world like she might kill the sniffling and unharmed gunner on the floor.

“Luftwaffe.” Benny informed him and Gale winced at their good fortune before giving his friend a pat and letting the sludge of insensibility take over again.

————————————————

“What was done to you: I am horrified.” Lt. Hausmann’s eyes were warm but his smile was cold, as cold as the holding cells, an odd dichotomy, opposite to most but not foreign to Gale. “I have heard they had intentions to hang you, yes? You, a prisoner of war. An officer. Horrifying, base, cowardly, I can only apologize for my countrymen’s attitude, they will be held to account. Was there anything else? I shall make a note. Are you well? Was there anything else?”

“There was a fighter pilot with me.” Cleven did not miss the eagerness in the man’s body language when he let loose his voice at last, hoarse from the rope and suppression of his cries. He’d been sat at this frigid desk with its proffered whiskey and smokes for half an hour already. “She was brutally raped, Lieutenant. And it is my understanding she is under Luftwaffe command now. Held here. I’d like you to make note of both, treat her accordingly.”

“Appalling.” Haussmann insisted, pen scritching away at his pad, “Noted, I-i will see that they are brought to account. Appalling. And you, Major, were you treated well? Besides your throat, I mean. Satisfactory? Honorably? I will make a note.”

The gnawed and broken thumbnail he’d bitten off hours ago slipped from between Gale’s molars. His teeth grated against each other for a split second. It was the only sound that filled the room. There’d been only five.

He passed Benny in the hall when they drug him back to his cell. But he never saw Sanchez again.

———————————————-

He didn’t see Sanchez again, not until a month later when she came with Smith. And all the others. Not until after a month of a John Brady biting through his lips with well placed anxiety over the absence of their female fellows. A month of Gale acting like he actually thought they were alright. As far as he knew, the boy’s sister was fine. Until she came through that gate, head shorn, cheek disfigured, half her buttons missing and a look in her eye that was half fury, half woe.

He was angry for Ida, but she didn’t belong trapped in a dog run with all these men. So Gale protested.

“If it can happen to you-“ John Brady had the gall to suggest at the gate, to suggest something Cleven had never confirmed. But Brady was like that, and Cleven had stopped his fight against the girls' inclusion all the same. Perhaps his fight had been less about the rules being broken, and more at the idea of having to see any more of their mistreatment, being witness to it, his rank proving useless once more. Never again. Not if he had to barter the golden gates for their safety.

———————————————--

“You ok?” Cleven asked Brady on the second day after their arrival as he counted out the syringes on the rough hewn table, one by one. He didn’t doubt the kid’s promise to get the supplies but instead the stalag doctor’s elusive provisions and willingness to comply. But sure enough, there was one for each of the girls, and a spare.

Brady gave him a tight lipped nod before expounding, “Sunnuvbitch wouldn’t dish on the iodine, I could see the damn relief package right there behind him but -no swabs. Dry stab. I guess.”

“It’s ok.” Cleven insisted, eyeing him still; he had his coat bundled about him even indoors but the buttons of his shirt beneath were redone, Gale knew that because they skipped one and started again wonky, wrong buttonhole, twice over. Like they’d been redone in haste. It hadn’t been that way when he left. “These are what we need.” he glanced up from his task at Hambone who was animatedly informing Benny of his visit.

Cleven had tried at subtlety, listening in with discretion but he couldn’t help it anymore, too curious himself. “You went with him, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” Hambone gestured to his newly smoothe cheek, stitches gone.

“So, what’s he like? The doc?”

Hamilton gave a signature sneer, “Weird as fuck and a little weirder than that. Wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Yeah!” Hamilton insisted, pissed off by it apparently, “On and on about psy- psycho -sam-“

“psychosomatic.” Brady rescued him boredly.

“-reflexes and shit. On and on. Just want the stitches out, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Cleven agreed. Waiting for the shoe to drop. He stared at the extra shot, his stomach curdling. “Just want some shots.” he added, eyes drifting up to land on Brady and his sightless stare at the opposite wall that bunked his motionless sister.

“Yeah, that was a whole other debacle.”

“Oh?” Cleven prodded, the picture of nonchalance as he started to divide the shots into groupings. He was seeing things, he was projecting, he was doing what Egan told him not to ever do -assume what has been is now what is. What he’s experienced is what everyone else has. He knew that deep down, but there was a brittle bravery to Jack Brady these days that reminded Gale too much of his own fraudulent brand of survival.

“Hammy it’s- how about you leave off.” Brady muttured. “Don’t bother the major with it.”

“Weird as fuck.” Hambone confirmed stubbornly.

“I’m the one who asked you if you thought he was weird.” Brady corrected, irritated enough by impression to continue.

“And it was! I said he was.”

“I’ve been telling you guys.” When Brady said it, it was without heat. “Him and his stupid little hammers.”

“Yeah what was all the hammering for?”

“Reflexes, Hammy. Psychosomatic.”

“Weird as fuck.”

Gale bit his tongue so hard he hoped it cleared his head before daring, “He make you take your shirt off for it?”

There was a pause in the slapping sounds of the card game ongoing behind him, Kendeigh and Demarco and Crank all freezing at the question.

“He keeps checking the shoulder.” Brady finally said, it was admittance enough.

“And the fuckin’ knee.” Hambone chipped in.

He shrugged, meeting Cleven’s eyes stubbornly, “He’s obsessed with reflexes.”

“You hurt your knee landing?”

Brady’s flat line of a mouth tugged up wryly, his eyes flitted over to his sister's motionless form. “A tad. Uh, the shots sir, he said they go in the hip. Didn't have the pamphlets, no instructions.

“I remember.” Gale had some knowledge of it, they’d all gotten a few vaccines in training, and he knew enough to ask for them in the first place, to help with whatever the poor girls might have contracted. His own eyes skittered to Kendeigh who sat at the table, making a poor show of holding her deck of cards. “Well, you first?” he pleaded.

She looked a little cross but she didn’t fight him, she rose from the table with stern imprecations on anyone skipping over her turn and cast about for a place. Gale put his hand on her shoulder and gently guided her to a corner by the bunks, it was really all the privacy he had to give.

“You’ll have to undo my belt, Ida had to do it up-“ she flashed her swollen hands again, “-my hands.”

“I got you.” he whispered, gently reaching around and loosening the belt so that her borrowed trousers sagged enough for him to get at the meat of her hip.

Johnny was rolling Ida over in their bunk beside him, and Gale wasn’t sure who should give Ida her shot but he supposed her brother was the best candidate. Much as he hated the boy having to. But, perhaps, it wasn’t the worst thing he had to do tonight, and that made Gale’s stomach sour. He willed his hands to steadiness and undid the cap off the needle.

“Jesus Christ.” Johnny was suddenly exclaiming, hoarse and infuriated, Gale glanced aside and saw the boy had uncovered a hip alright, with his usual meticulous precision, and still, there wasn’t a spot of skin on Ida not green or else blue or else near to black. Gale stared back at Maureen and the jagged little scratches on her hip, crescent moon ditches, the blooming bruise here and there and swore not to count his blessings.

What did he know? Nothing, he knew nothing about any of them really. Except he knew such injuries didn’t have to show to hurt like hell. He drove the shot home with merciful force, squeezed in the stinging contents and retracted it, smooth and fast as anything.

“Hell, fuck, damn! Son of a carpet wearing Methodist-“ Maureen hopped around on her one good leg in barely contained frenzy at the sting.

Gale tried not to smile, “Bad huh?”

She scowled back at him in between pained giggles, “If I could give yours just for pay back, I would. Damn!” she held her hands up up once more and Cleven kept his eyes above, “But I can’t, sorry, can’t help with the other girls either, fucking useless.”

Johnny was standing, straightened up again, syringe empty, sister still just lying there. Bucky Egan out cold beside her. Gale couldn’t even allow himself to question if those two would be alright. They had to be, he didn’t think he could make it without them, make everyone else make it along with him. “She didn’t even budge.” Jack muttered.

What was there to say to that?

“She didn’t make it all the way here just to fuckin’ die.” Kendeigh assured him while straddling her chair again, voicing her peculiar brand of kindness and her true opinion on Ida Brady, “She’d never be so wet. They had a whole day to kill her on that train and they didn’t manage to.”

A day? A train? Gale didn’t know what to make of it; he was just glad that Bucky was dead to the world for now and not getting riled again by every new tidbit so that Gale would have to talk him down and also administer shots to a bunch of traumatized women.

“We’ll help sir.” Crank offered to him as he stood over the divided piles of syringes again.

“Alright,” Gale agreed, “but some may wanna give it to each other instead, you let them. Give ‘em space. I don’t think they’ll fight it, they know they need ‘em.”

Benny sauntered up beside him, flicking at the supplies, “This one yours, Buck?” he asked casually, fiddling with the spare.

Gale glanced at Brady and found him looking back at him. “Yeah.” He told Benny. “For the cuts.”

“Here, let me-“ Benny was already at it. Gale tugged his waistband down to assist, just enough to expose a sliver of pale hip and leaned a little over the table, there were bruises on his hipbones, he knew, but they could be from anything.

It did sting like hell.

“Alright you take those, and that’s enough for, yeah-“ Gale divided the supplies to each man, lingered just a moment as they went into the hall to brush by Brady, and murmured to him him lowly, “That was real thoughtful, thanks. You need one?”

To the credit of his poker face, the boy didn’t startle a bit, except for an infinitesimal flutter of an eyelid. “No sir?” he asked as if that were an idiotic question.

It was the only way Gale knew to ask him: to ask about something more. -Tell me son, just tell me you need a shot and I’ll know I’m not imagining shit. That I’ve not become paranoid and irritable and callous, too.

But then, “No sir?” and that incredulous face that left even the strongest man feeling like a dunce.

Well, that was it.

“I’ll help you tell them.” Maureen was by his side suddenly and Gale appreciated that, Smith was the only other female Lieutenant and he could use Kendeigh’s unapologetic pragmatism. “Ida told them she’d ask for remedies. Think she meant for pregnancies but, this is a start.”

There really wasn’t much of an announcement to be made; who didn’t understand what penicillin was needed for? It was needed for the dreaded thing that was hung over every bathroom stall door at canteens and on the underground in London, warning of having too good of a time and catching something. No one needed explanations, even though Gale watched their faces as Kendeigh announced and helped distribute the shots one room after another, he was trying to detect if any were hesitant or unconvinced. He found none.

He did find Sanchez, across one identical wooden room and still in her jacket with the eagle patch. She must have washed her face with the others, the mud was gone. When they locked eyes he saw a hard and warning look harden her eyes further; it made his cheek throb. Stonefaced, she broke the stare after a moment and advanced to grab her allotment, even as her fingers dragged along his palm, even when she passed him, Gale could not get her to resume it.

In one of the last rooms he went in alone -Maureen was delayed with one of the girls doing poorly, one who was not well enough to rise from her bunk. “They about drowned her” Maureen told him casually, and that was something else he dreaded learning about.

“Drowned?” he’d repeated a bit dumbly, and he deserved her

annoyed face.

“To get info from us.”

“Us?” he repeated again, low and slow, “You too?”

She gave him another of those looks before nodding at the last parcel in his hand, “Go take care of Smith’s girls before Johnny gets to them first and helps them with all the tenderness of a mortician.”

When Gale had stepped back into the hallway, Johnny’s voice could be heard still two doors down with Benny, fighting a fine line between helping and making themselves scarce. Personally, Gale felt Johnny was a gentle fucker when he needed to be. This wasn’t one of those cases, none of the girls wanted pity from them. Or acknowledgement even, judging by Sanchez’s cautioning venom.

In the last room, Smith and Tong had the girls sorted efficiently, and it was a little thing to ask the ever obliging Graham and the other men to step out briefly. Same old script here as before, Gale felt in a numb sort of loathing for his lack of originality -he distributed a shot a piece and apologized for the lack of iodine to sterilize the injection site and they all assured him it was fine, and everyone knew he was apologizing for far more than the lack of iodine and they knew that they’re assurances were more than about it either. Gale liked these girls for how well they knuckled under, it had made them pretty great in the crews after a shaky mission. They shoved a bad thing down as well as the next man, and if they punched their bed frames at night or cried in the showers, just like how it was for his men, that wasn’t Gale’s concern.

Only Lu Smith’s face went off script when he pressed the needle and its cartridge in her hand, something besides tight lipped thanks or a nod of efficient understanding. There were questions in her eyes, dancing slow and swirly and blatant as sorghum specks in molasses. A rich dark pool of uncertainty. Some girls were already discreetly headed for corners of the room to make the stab or else rolling up a shirt sleeve and insisting to the giver that they wanted it given there. Lu glanced away from him only to watch these proceedings with something like fear and then she was looking back at him, a hesitant plea written on her face. He didn’t know she was scared of needles.

“Major, is Ida awake?” his lieutenant asked, voice scratchy and a little closed, like how it got when she tried her hand at professionality or had to present a solution in front of a crowd. “I need to ask her something.”

That was a remarkably vague sentence, not at all professional. “No, she’s not.” He told her, watching as the fear grew more pronounced around her mouth and chin, “You ask me, Lieutenant.”

“May I?”

“Course,” Gale nodded his head toward the door, “step out here.”

He strode down to the very end of the combine, by the locked double doors, just far enough away from the windows not to invite a guard to come in and give them shit about it. The bright orange lights of the camp came in from the general darkness outside, glowing through the always dusty glass and making Smith’s skin shine a pretty bronze, even with the dark spots on her chin. Those made his blood thud quicker. It was quiet down here, as private as he could get.

“What’s up Smith?” he urged.

“I’m sorry sir I-I’ve got a few questions.”

“Told you to ask, Lieutenant.” Gale reminded, “So ask.”

“Yes sir.” She’d developed a tick since he’d last seen her, an odd sort of hugging of herself, arm crossing her chest and hand gripping her opposite clavicle, fingertips curling just over her own shoulder. “It’s about the shots. Ida’s been teaching me but she never mentioned about those.”

Gale took a deep breath, only the faintest bit of mirth left at the reminder of the ‘condom balloon’ incident. Ida had needed a stiff drink after taking her engineer aside and informing ‘Little Lu’ those were rubber socks men put on their members, and not in fact balloons. And yes, Benny had lied out of niceness, and yes men’s bodies sprayed things like cattle’s did when they got excited, and yes it’s for the purpose of making babies. Gale had heard all this from Ida after three stiff shots she’d downed like medicine, she’d relayed it in a perfect montone and Gale had not asked but she told him all the same, then said she needed to hit the sack and Ida Brady was gone while Gale remained at the bar with his cider and shaking shoulders. The memory had been amusing only weeks ago, when Douglass came to loot Benny’s footlocker for more rubbers and they’d all made a joke about Smith having beat him to them -for balloons.

“Everyone else seems to know and want them and I’m the slow one again.” Smith was muttering, a petulant look of annoyance crossing her young face, angry at herself.

“It’s about the guards.” Gale murmured.

Smith looked so hurt by that he wasn’t sure where he’d misstepped, but then, “Is it for what they did? Or is it such a sure they’re gonna keep hurting us and these- how do these help, sir?”

Gale startled and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder out of pure, gut instinct to impress on her his next words, “Not a single thing is goin’ to happen to you again, not like that, you hear me, Lu?” he shook her a little and it dislodged her own hand from her chest.

“Yes sir.”

“These are for anything you might’ve caught.” he tried to explain, coming up short and he knew it. If Bucky were here he’d use all manner of crass slang and common vernacular phrases to jog the poor girl’s memory about magazine advertisements, the sorts that warned of ‘diseases’, the underground posters and the bathroom stall flyers urging chastity or safety. Gale could not manage it back then and he couldn’t now. “Diseases Lu.” he tried again, “Men who aren’t- careful, or- disciplined, they, they spread diseases to the girl they’re with. Uh, with- intimately. If they’ve been with other girls before.”

He hoped to God that Ida had used the word ‘intimate’ when educating Smith on these finer yet so utterly crude aspects of human interaction. ‘Intimate’ seemed like a word Ida Brady would use, he thought he recalled her accusing him of being intimate with Kendeigh. Maybe the accusation had been ‘fraternizing’. Or ‘getting familiar’. Gale wasn’t sure, he only recalled that it had not been complementary and he had blushed into the floor under her stare but her accusation had been vague. He knew Ida had been vague.

Was she equally vague with Smith? Did that mean Smith was as uneducated as she’d been before Ida gave her an ineffectually Catholic lesson?

“They can spread it with-“ Smith paused only a minute before deciding to trust him, “-with their bodies? Like a wound?”

Gale gave her nod, trying to stay teacherly, “With their bodies. Yeah. They don’t need wounds it comes from- well, other places. Intimate places they- look, Smith if you weren’t hurt that way, you don’t need the shots.”

Grueling as this conversation was, nerve wracking as her dense innocence could be, it fed that traitorous bit of hope he’d been harboring since he lost all hope for himself that she might’ve been alright. It wasn’t fair to Kendiegh or Ida or Sanchez or any of the others to hope for that, but none of this was fair anyway. Maybe her lack of comprehension was a kindness.

Smith’s eyes were latching onto one surrounding thing and then another, a good long beat between each new object, not darting but roving, now latched on the doorframe and now on Gale’s coat buttons and then on to the glass window panes beside them as if she could see through the bubbled glass out into the dark yard. He could tell by her change in breathing more than the light when she began to cry.

“I didn’t want the girls to think I’m stupid.” She admitted, and she was definitely crying, “I’m their officer, I should know these things.” she explained, lips going into a full tremble, all the harmless jokes of before suddenly not a bit funny, “But I don’t know at all, I didn’t know they’d-“ Gale kept his hand on her now jolting shoulder, spending a little too much time thinking how to mould his own face to some correct expression for this as she began to crumble, it was better than watching too closely as she broke apart, “When they beat us and put the bags over our faces I- I expected it. It wasn’t right, we weren’t treated like prisoners but, I expected it. Ida had told us. Then they started saying things to her, the ones that could speak English and I-i really didn’t know what they meant, not at first until they started- oh Major, they, they started touching her, like lovers in a movie.”

Lu had her eyes squeezed shut like that would get the image out somehow, one brief flash and Gale could remember everything about laying there and seeing Sanchez’s face -and he knew nothing wiped the image out. “They had her chained to a bar and they kept doing that,” she went on, “It was over her head, the bar was over her head and I could tell how much she hated it, and she couldn’t do anything and they weren’t hurting her anymore, they were- they were touching her. They stopped beating her and started touching her, sir and I- that’s when I realized that, there could be something worse. They wanted us to start giving up ranks, and they kept doing that until we did and I wanted to give up then more than any time else. Just to make them stop doing that to her.”

Gale squeezed her shoulder and she jerked under it but cried afresh, she stayed still next to him and just kept crying. “Smith, right here and now I need to know if you’re alright.” he steered her away from memories back to now, as gently as he could, “Ida is gonna be alright, and she’s proud of you, and she expects you to take care of her girls, you hear me? And I need you well for that, Lu. I need to know if you’ve been hurt.”

Smith pulled herself back into a shaky composure, her neck still trembling so badly her head made tiny little jerks from time to time. “They did hurt me.” she agreed.

“Hurt you where you need these shots?” he gently clarified, hoping she was catching on, dreading the confirmation all the same.

“They put -they kept putting themselves inside me.” she got it out, her face dazed like she still didn’t understand it even as her voice cracked from a soul deep knowledge of the wrong done, “I didn’t know they could- they could use their bodies like that. I didn’t know. They kept doing it.”

-There had been only five.- Gale felt his belly lurch, some bowel deep memory of the same torture taking over him, like a haunting he couldn’t prevent. He’d thought he had it locked far down enough, hardly thought on it these days, but maybe he’d shoved it down to where it hurt in the first place, with his belly in knots all again and Sanchez’s cold face sneering and Benny’s worried eyes making his stomach shake and salt flood his mouth. He wanted to vomit.

“Oh Lu.” he muttered ineffectually, “C’mere.” and he had her hugged and cradled to his ratty jacket before his ingrained and temperate habits could interfere. He had her turned to the doors, her sobbing eyes pressed into his sweaty layers and it was better that way. With his lips pressed to the crown of her head he watched the rest of the hallway go on without them, men going back into the rooms once the shots had been administered, Benny darting into one with a bucket in hand. Gale saw Brady as Brady saw him, only making a small pause in his stride as he watched Gale hold Smith before he turned away, face still a blank slate, the boy went back to his sister.

Maybe if Gale had been closer or the hallway brighter he might’ve seen the same hurt and tears there as he and Smith were sharing, but Brady wasn’t close and he wouldn’t say and maybe Gale was a fool to think his own experience wasn’t a fluke. But Brady just went back to Ida, and Gale still felt the damning weight of the shot in his palm even as he hugged Smith’s narrow shoulders.

His own hip still smarted from the injection, -the shot for his cuts. Just his cuts.

“I’m sorry sir.” Smith was trying to say in between sobs, no doubt finding her emotions galling in the face of her prized professionalism.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be fine-“

“I know.”

“I’ll be fine i just, I didn’t know-“

“I know, Lu.”

“It hurt so much.”

“I know.”

She pulled her face away, he was glad to see that while it was puffy and reddened, she looked far calmer. The suddenness of her recovery should have warned him. “Do you sir?” she whispered, pained.

“What?”

“Do you know, sir?” she asked again, harmless yet intent, “Did they hurt you that way too?”

Gale felt a rush of heat, heat and numbness where his hands fell from their grip on her and shook by his sides instead, and he hated his limbs for that betrayal. Heat, like she could see it so clearly on his face, like the harmless cuts on his face really spelled it out. Everyone’s suspicion of them put him on edge, wondering what was wrong with his bearing, his walk, the way he took a seat, that somehow exposed him. With her dark, pitying, horrified little face staring up at him, he felt like he was back on the bench with Benny holding him there, knowing most likely why he had to lay on his belly and not his back.

“Smith you can’t-“ Gale sounded young again and he hated it, when he was ready he began again, and this time he sounded like Major Cleven, “-don’t ever say shit like that again, alright? You can’t say shit like that. Not about- men. Not about me.”

She looked affronted and close to tears again, but his tone couldn’t be helped, last thing this stalag needed was news their Major had been so easily overcome. “I was just asking sir-“

“Not something you ask a man.” he informed her. “Like ya said, there’s lot of things you don’t know, it’s alright. But you don’t ask that, Smith.”

Harsh but necessary, he told himself again. Except she looked less hurt now and closer to something like anger, if her kind self could be angry. He’d seen her get angry when someone kicked a dog once. He’d seen her angry after a shit mission. She looked close to it now, like some grave injustice was firing her up. “But it can happen to men.” she was suddenly wise and he picked a cuticle bloody in trance-like distress, his face was motionless, “I know because they- they can put themselves both places.”

Fury took the place of numbness in his being and he grabbed her again, pulling her close and tucking her under his chin, she made a wounded noise when their chests collided despite the layers, but she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back. “They’re never gonna do that again, Lu, never again. I’m gonna make sure of it. Bucky’ll make sure of it.” he swore, his voice gone so low it shook. “They hurt you other places?”

Smith shook her head against his chest, “I’ll take the shot, sir.” she murmured meekly. “Would you give it? I don’t want the others to-“

“Sure, Lu.”

He waited until she pulled away, her eyes downcast but the look on her face broke no argument that she wasn’t in a humor to be less than her rank. Gale shifted the shot in his palm and bit his lip, willing away any sentiment about it.

“Goes in the hip. Mark my words, those bicep shots that Tong went for- gonna hurt for ages, you don’t need that. Lemme put it in your hip.”

Smith nodded and cast a furtive glance behind her at the empty hall, only looking down again to undo her belt when Gale moved his body to block any hapless onlooker.

There were bruises when he gently aided her in tugging the drab olive aside, some nearly as dark as the ones on Ida and welts from what looked like a belt strap, even on the high swell of her hip. Gale knew the smarting bite of a belting.

“Did you wash these?” he whispered to her, crouching to better see his work as he made a harbor of unmarried muscle between his thumb and index finger, bunching up the meat of her leg and holding it for her to relax into his touch before he jammed the shot home.

“When we showered.” Lu wasn’t crying anymore but her voice matched his in its softness, tense anticipation for the jab mellowing the longer he kept her staid under his hold.

“Good.” he commended her, voice muffled by the needles’ cap between his lips.

She only stiffened when he drove it in, pressed down on the plunger with his thumb, kept his hand gripping her hip, shaking the muscle just so, “Loosen up.” he ordered, it would hurt less that way. Cleven heard her take a breath and try.

When he stood straight again he took the cap from his mouth and clicked it back on the needle, acting like it took great concentration and focus to do so, all while she pulled her trousers back up and refastened them discreetly. Her cheeks were wet once more, either from before or she’d begun crying again.

“You ok?” he asked.

She gave him a long series of nods as she got on top of the embarrassed anger. “Yes, thanks Buck.”

“I’m right down there.” he reminded, thumbing at his own quarters. “You feel the least bit sickly or- or anything, you come get me. Same for your girls.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, well get in there Lu,” he patted her toward her room, “one thing the krauts are picky about here is bedtime.”

Smith sucked in a breath between her teeth, a shuddering thing, “Alright, I’ll remember. Bedtime.”

“So you’re gonna remember bedtime and what else?” Gale catchized her.

“Bedtime and that…you’re -right down there.”

“Very good, Smith.”

“Night, Buck.”

“Night, Lu.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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minniesmutt · 2 months ago

Note

are you still accepting request for the chasr atlantic thing?

meddle about x hyunjin, plss

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, PORN W/O PLOT, PROTECTED SEX, ORAL (M. REC, IMPLIED F. REC), CLIT PLAY, EXHIBITIONISM, CHOKING, PROTECTED SEX, IMPLIED SECOND ROUND, DADDY KINK ☾ ━━━ WC: 1K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Y/n enjoyed it. It was just all fun but fun felt good, especially with Hyunjin, who knew exactly how to make her feel best. And she’d never leave him hanging either. No matter where they were.

Even at events.

“Ya know, everyone keeps asking about us,” Hymning grabbed as his head tilted back to the wall behind. Only getting a hum in response from the girl on her knees in front of him. Her mouth was busy on his cock.

He didn’t deny just how good his friends looked. He also didn’t deny when evasions at the after-party said they were jealous of how he got a girlfriend like her. He didn’t have the heart to correct them either.

He could barely even think straight when she pulled him off to an empty bathroom and pressed him against the wall. Lips devoured his before she sank onto her knees, undoing his belt and dress pants. Hyunjin was gone the moment her lips wrapped around his tip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, mind blank as his dick twitched inside her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down onto him. Filling her pretty mouth up with his seed. Y/n held onto his hips as she looked up at the idol with watery eyes— thankful for her waterproof mascara.

Hyunjin pulled her back off his cock and tilted her head back, seeing her mouth full of him before she swallowed it. “Dirty girl,” he chuckled

He helped her up off the ground and grabbed her ass, plump lips engulfing hers in a kiss. His tongue quickly found its way into her mouth. Treating the remnants of himself inside the cavern. Y/n gripped his coat as his murals wrapped around her and she leaned further into him. “Hotel,” Y/n begged as he pulled his tongue out of her throat.

“Yeah? Need me to fuck you just the way you like it the rest of the night? That it?” Hyunjin teased

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.”

Hyunjin quickly fixed himself and called the car for them. Both made sure the order looked presentable before going back out. Quickly leaving the venue hand in hand and getting in the waiting car. Hyunjin played his role as an idol and waved bye to his hands that were still outside as they walked and got in the car—telling the driver to head back to the hotel.

Hyunjin managed to slip his hand under the slit of her dress and pressed a finger to her covered clot. Y/n looked at him, hoping the driver wouldn’t look back at them. Those thoughts didn’t last too long as he circled her clit over her panties.

“Soak your pants sucking me off?” Hyunjin laced over and asked, feeling the wet spot that had soaked the fabric. Y/n subtly nodded as he hooked a finger under the side of the fabric. “Take ‘em off.”

Y/n looked at him, deducing if he was serious — he was. She subtly managed to get the fabric off her legs before placing them in his open hand. Hyunjin kissed her temple as he slipped them into his pocket before returning his finger to her aching clit. She opted to lay her head against his shoulder as he teased her the rest of the way to their hotel. Stopping his ministrations whenever she whispered to him she was close. Fully stopping once they got to the hotel. Hyunjin helped her out of the car and walked to the elevator. Y/n pressed her lips to his once the doors closed. Hyunjin happily returned the kiss and wrapped a hand around her throat. Making her moan into his mouth. “So greedy tonight.” Hyunjin smiled

“Can you blame me?”

“No.”

The elevator opened to their floor and headed straight to their room. Y/n started unzipping her dress before Hyunjin even shut the door. Letting it fall to the ground before getting on the bed. Hyunjin smirked as he stepped off his suit and grabbed a condom from their luggage.

He stood on the side of the bed and pulled her to him. The idol rolled the rubber onto his hard cock and pushed himself into her aching cut. Y/n moaned as he filled her out. Hyunjin wrapped his hand back around her neck and started thrusting in and out of her. Y/n grabbed onto his wrists before her hands were pulled away and he instructed her to keep them above her head.

“Good girl,” Hyunjin smiled as she followed his instructions and used his free hand to rub her clit again.

Y/n gasped and clenched around him. Catching a glimpse in the hotel mirror of their position. Turning her on more and Hyunjin noticed. Teasing her and gripping her neck tighter. “Should have brought the camera. Get to see what I see every time.”

“Hyune,” Y/n moaned

“My baby close? Need to cum?”

“Yes!” She managed to choke out

“What do you say?”

“Please, daddy.”

“Been good tonight. Go ahead. Cum in daddy’s cock.”

Y/n couldn’t wait another second. Her organ ripped through her, shaking under him as he ducked her through the orgasm. Hyunjin smiled as he kept going. Fucking her as his own orgasm was approaching. Cursing under his breath and took his hands off her body. Placing them on the bed and using the momentum to thrust into her. Listening to her moan his name. Until his own dam finally broke and his cum filled the condom.

Hyunjin pulled out as soon as he was done. Both took a moment to recollect themselves before Hyunjin pulled off the condom, tying up the rubber and tossing it away. “More,” Y/n said from the bed

“Give me a few minutes then we can go again. But for now, I need to return the cache from the bathroom.” Hyunjin smiled and got onto his knees in front of her, holding her legs open and kissing her entrance.

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

Text

The Quickie [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You and Avenger! Loki escape a work event for something more entertaining. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. Dom!/Switch. Friends w/ Benefits. Squirting (w/c 2.1k)

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the hotel room mirror, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. "They'll be wondering where we are," you panted, as Loki walked you backwards.

“What was I supposed to do when you look like this?” Loki snarled, unbuttoning your flimsy blouse with unnatural speed. Saliva glistened on his chin, red lipstick rubbed in ombre smears against alabaster skin. “Wait?”

He had marched you from the downstairs Expo in full ceremonial battle leathers. Desperate kisses and moans and wandering hands had made the elevator feel more like a dive bar. Your bare cheeks had pressed against the glass as your skirt rode up, grinding against his hips while you hung on to the horns of his helmet. You gasped as your back met the wall, a thumb tilting your head back while he smouldered through half-lidded eyes. His headpiece glimmered in the low lighting, the gilded formality making your knees wobble. The god moaned darkly, one hand slipping between your legs, eyelids batting closed as dexterous fingers played over your soaking slit. “I knew you weren’t wearing anything under here. Knew it,” he groaned, bending forward with one bulging forearm pressed against the wall. The leather creaked. And you were sure you heard the plaster crack. His lips were an inch from yours, the sudden pause in his seductions reminding you of the moment before the predator makes its final, lethal, lunge. Hot breath flooded your nostrils, sweet and heavy with desire. Your fingers toyed with the side-zip of your skirt, raising your sultry gaze to meet his. “There she is, my good girl,” he rasped, as the fabric fell around your ankles. Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up the flat expanse of his triangular chest from the nipped waist to his shoulders. The leather was snug to every angle of his body, a vicious unit of power and sexual devastation wrapped in pure temptation. Just for you. You had learned that fucking Loki Laufeyson was like riding a bull. A girl needed to take control and harness the beast or risk being thrown off and trampled in the dirt. And to be frank, you weren’t sure how much of that was metaphorical. Without breaking eye-contact, you laced his fingers through yours. They were wet. “Come on,” you whispered, enjoying the narrow of his eyes and the clench of his jaw as he fought to contain a smile. On the way to the bedroom, you kicked off your heels. You turned, seductive demeanour turning to a frown. He was naked. “What happened to the-” “-Leather?” Loki cut. “You said it yourself darling, they’ll be wondering where we are,” he purred sarcastically. “And you far take too long undressing me.” His hand ran up your spine, tugging the blouse off with gentle precision. In one fluid motion, he knelt one knee on the bed, sweeping you to lie on your back. “Such a pretty tease, aren’t you?” he goaded, running his knuckles between your breasts. You shivered, feeling yourself melt within the burning pools of his darkened eyes.

The thick ropes of muscle layering his shoulders shifted as he leant over you, the slide of his hand up your bare thigh culminating in a brutal squeeze of your ass. Loki's immaculate cock twitched between his legs, a solitary pearl of wetness lingering tantalisingly at the crease. A macabre smile stretched on his lips, seeing your stare linger on his manhood as it always did.

“I often wonder if you wish to fuck me as often as I wish to fuck you,” he pondered casually as you shuffled backwards to the centre of the mattress. Loki stalked closer on all fours like a beast, his gigantic frame covering you in a cage of muscled, marble eroticism. Your legs widened, knees bent to the ceiling as he took up position between your spread thighs. Loki’s biceps strained under his weight as he lowered his face to yours, the veins taut and thick. And hard. Long tendrils of ebony hair caught against your lips. He sucked your earlobe, releasing it with a wet, licentious sigh. “But then I remember,” he continued smugly, “how you sound when I do...this-”

With a soft exhale of relief, his cock breached your soaking slit. On cue, your back arched in welcome; a melodic gasp of pleasure filling the air. Loki’s lips parted in a silent chuckle, hungry eyes flitting over every inch of your desperately horny features contorted with pleasure. “Ah, my faithful godslut,” he cooed, slurring while he bottoming out with a solid thrust that knocked you back several inches. “Always ready and willing to swallow what I have to give, in any hole...isn’t that right, darling?” You bucked violently against him in protest, pelvic bones thudding. Loki pursed his lips, a silent ooo searing the air while he clenched to deliver another earth-shuddering thrust. Your fingers scraped back his loose hair, letting one hand settle at the base of his scalp. With a sharp tug to the right, he rolled on his back with a guttural groan. His perfect cock’s brief absence was a torture, but a necessary one. Cheeky shit needs a reminder of who he’s talking to, you grit; straddling him and leveraging him back where he belonged. Loki’s huge hands gravitated to your breasts, palms ready to massage upwards with every targeted pump of his ass. You grabbed his exposed wrists, pushing them above his head to the pillow. “I think you’re forgetting something, Laufeyson…” you panted, clenching your cunt teasingly around the tip. Loki frowned, face screwed up at the delicious mischief in which he found himself. “Sure – I take what you give. But you only give what I want,” you sneered. His thick thighs jolted as you began to inch slowly down his shaft, feeling every protruding vein catch on the sensitive rim of your pussy. You smiled, watching him squirm against the mattress. “So just remember who’s really in control here, yeah?”

At your words he let loose a rattling sigh, feigning an escape against the hands gripping his wrists. With every achingly slow movement, the sinews of his neck bulged. His teeth, gritted. God, it was heaven. Breathy pants rumbled from his throat as you increased your speed, slamming back to his pelvis with every waving buck of your hips. “N-norns, kvinne du...avslutter m-meg, uhh-fu-ck,” he stammered, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Your hands slid down the bulge of his forearms, smile twitching. “The end of you, huh? My, my. It doesn’t take much to topple a god after all, then.”

Loki’s freed hands flew to your hips with a snarl, beginning to bounce you mercilessly on his cock. Air puffed from your lungs with every flick of his muscular hips, spread knees bent to the ceiling buffeting you higher; caught only by his iron grasp. The wet of your sex coated his length, sticky threads tangling in invisible strands from your heat to his pubic hair. Your fingernails scraped down his chest, making him hiss. They would mark. Loki snarled again, deep and low and primal as you slapped together. God, he looked so fucking mean. And so fucking sexy. “Just like that. Like that,” he growled with fiery madness. The squeeze of your muscles around his length with every dip of his ridden prick made you squelch. In the bright light of morning-afters, your trysts were nothing. A distraction. A way to pass the time. But at moments like this, in the heat and sweat and filth of erotic battle; the way the two of your moved as one. It was everything. Loki’s jaw hung open, his tongue twitching. His beautiful eyes were closed, proud brow creased as he lost himself inside you. Your clit ground against his pelvis with every shallow edge of his hips, cock pulsing rhythmically against the swollen bundle deep within. The god’s fingers slid possessively around the curve of your ass, the tips digging dangerously into soft flesh. You expected that tomorrow you would be painted once again in the purple and blue hallmarks of his affections. You hoped you would be. Your head fell back, spilling his name to the ceiling as you felt your cunt spasm with pleasure. “Baby,” you gasped, “F-fuck, baby – yes!-” You choked as the world was flipped upside down. Your back landed with a soft thump on the hotel mattress. Loki wasted no time in seating himself between your spread thighs, sinking home inside your sopping cunt with a ragged, cursing moan. “Don’t call me that,” he warned, eyes flashing. You batted your lashes in feigned innocence, trying to hide a smirk. “Don’t call you ‘baby’? Why?” you goaded, before Loki’s tongue jammed inside your mouth, shutting you up. He began to move in pulsating waves, heavy groans on both sides echoing between your open mouths. With a rasping grunt, he began to thumb your clit as he railed you, every powerful rut of his cock pushing you closer to the headboard. Loki’s hair swung around his jawline, glistening sweat misting his brow as his breaths became short. “Close. Going to c-come,” he growled, eloquence forgotten. Your fingernails scratched deep between his shoulder-blades, the warrior muscles tense and primal. “N-not before me, you’re not-” you gasped, bucking upwards. Loki snarled, pushing your knees towards your chin in malicious compliance. “Oh, god,” you howled, the new angle rubbing his thick tip directly against your g-spot. A sudden urge washed over you, the utter inexplicable, unstoppable need to wet yourself cracking through every tingling nerve in your body. You were going to squirt. Hard.

“Loki-” you gaped, arching upwards as he littered the air with dirty praise. The urge was becoming unbearable. Unstoppable, as his cock massaged your most primal centre. “Do it, pretty kvinne,” he spat, panting while a delicate strand of saliva clung to his chin. Dangling. “I can feel it, I want it-” The vein in his forehead bulged as his breaths grew short. “Make a mess, let yourself go, f-fuck min dårlige j-jente.” Orgasm flooded your veins as you squirted around his cock with a strangled cry, welling against your bodies. A scream erupted, forceful ecstasy howling like wind tunnel through your veins. You could feel the ferocity of your arousal swell around his girth, sheer galactic power soldering your bodies together in a swamp of pure sex. Thin liquid washed down your thighs, spreading warm and wild with his continuing shallow rocks against your mound. Loki followed with a thundering moan of your name, the mass of muscle above you shaking and spasming through his climax. Your mess dripped down his legs, smeared against his lower stomach as he rode his release with staggered, choked breaths.

He collapsed on top of you, bulging forearms in a protective triangle above your head before falling to the side.

Watching him breathing for a few seconds, you drew a lazy finger across the tip of his softening cock, collecting a thick trail of fresh cum. You sucked it from your finger, pausing for effect as Loki inevitably opened one eye to watch. He cleared his throat. “That was...relatively pleasing.” You smacked his shoulder. Loki smiled, before his features hardened the way they always did when duty beckoned. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come, get dressed,” he sniffed.

“I’ll wait here, thanks. You have a better room.” You scooted back against the cushions, crossing your legs and reaching for the remote on the night-stand.

“You will not,” Loki huffed. Your eyebrows rose in reluctant appreciation as leather armour furled over his carved, glistening body, wrapping against his skin like a needy lover. “What’s the problem?” you smiled innocently, while the news channel sprung to life.

His stare cindered into your profile like cigarettes on tissue as you continued, looking ahead. “-you’re going to drag me up here in twenty minutes anyway, when you’re hard because I’ve sucked a straw or something-” “-I’ll be bored. I won’t have anyone to talk to.” Loki scoffed. The petulance was tangible. It was your turn to roll your eyes. “There are like, five hundred people downstairs. You’re a star, everyone wants to talk to-” “-Alright, no one I want to talk to,” Loki snapped, folding his arms. There was silence between you except for the irritating tap of one of his boots on the wooden floor. Wordlessly you turned off the TV, making a regal grasping gesture in the air. The god sighed in resignation, before kneeling to retrieve your discarded blouse. He turned on his knee, holding it aloft to your outstretched hand in a tableau that was almost gallant.

“Are we going to pretend that you didn’t just admit that you actually like me?” you smirked.

Loki frowned, rising to his full height. “I did no such-” You pressed a finger to his parted lips, widening the digits of the other hand against his cock still thick and delicious beneath the leather. “Okay, baby” you hummed, squeezing. His brows slanted, breath hitching as you grazed his lips with yours. “Whatever you say.”

Rough Norwegian kvinne du avslutter meg – woman, you’ll end me min dårlige j-jente – my bad girl

Tags (cont'd in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @kats72 @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @glitchquake @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x yn #avenger loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki gif #loki x yn smut #loki x you smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader smut

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anundyingfidelity · 6 months ago

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YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter II)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 2.1k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Warnings for this chapter: late night office rough sex with Dean, unprotected sex, guilty feelings for Sam, death as following the storyline of this episode but with slight changes.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter II: A Second Life

The elevators closed and your eyes were locked on Sam’s gaze the whole time, until he disappeared from your sight. A strange feeling washed over you, seeing him like that, but Dean’s lips back on your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin brought you back to reality.

Quickly, you forced yourself to take in the sweet sensation of his fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse and his mouth ghosting over your covered breasts. He sucked on your tits, after pushing the bra up, his long, thick fingers squeezing your flesh.

“Dean,” you moaned, throwing your head back slightly.

The sound of the elevator caused him to separate from your flesh and you tried your best to cover your body as he dragged you to his office. Everything was quiet, no soul could be seen but you. This wasn’t the first time you had the pleasure of having him between your legs, but work had been busy and you were craving for release for such a long time.

He felt the same, judging by the way he pushed you against the wall once inside his office. How his lips kissed yours in a heated, needy gesture, his tongue finding its place inside your mouth, earning breathy moans from you. His hands withdrew your blouse, and he exposed your breasts again. Soon, he pulled up your skirt and your panties were discarded on the floor. With a gasp, you were between the wall and his body holding you, and he grinded his hips against your cunt. Dean hissed, feeling your legs wrapping around his waist and your hand unzipping his trousers to free his cock, hard and ready for you.

“Rough or gentle?” he asked, voice full of lust as he looked at you with half hooded eyes and that smirk of his.

“I’m stressed today, so you’d say,” you teased, stroking his hard length, feeling the pre cum already leaking.

“Of fucking course,” Dean hissed before pressing his lips on yours once again, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your folds, coating your clit with your own juices and stretching you out slowly with his digits for a moment. He smirked when a breathy moan passed your lips. “Rough it’ll be.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tip of his cock rubbing on your wet slit. “You know me so well.”

Your throbbing pussy welcomed him, as he slid inside you with a smooth movement of his hips. Dean started to pound into you against the wall, holding your thighs firmly with his hands. There was always something so beautiful and hot he found on you each time you were like this, with your eyes shut and mouth open, moaning and whimpering sweetly, while he fucked you. He loved how messy you were, how stupidly dirty you could get when the two of you were together.

The tight walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock as Dean began to leave harsh and wet kisses on your breasts, playing with your nipple with his mouth, one of his hands working on the other. You squirmed under his touch, your legs around his waist started to feel strained, but you don’t care as much as he keeps fucking you into oblivion. You moaned particularly loud when his cock reached the deepest spot inside you, and you felt so damn close.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, giving a particularly harsh thrust and making you moan again.

You covered your mouth with your hand to suppress the noises coming out, but it only caused Dean to rut even harder, until you came first. He increased the rhythm of his hips, twitching inside your convulsing walls, and finally got himself spilling inside you. Dean bucked his hips the last couple of times before carrying you with him until he sat down on the nearest chair in front of his desk, you on his lap trying to catch your breath and recover from your amazing high. Still buried deep inside your pussy, he caressed softly your thighs as you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Despite all the rough fuck you just had, Dean always took good care of you, waiting until you be better to get up and leave. With you, he had been open to explore more than just a quick fuck sometimes. Whether it be his dominant side on you, or the overwhelming control you had on him, Dean just knew he was completely lost in your body and how well you’d work on his wishes and longings, despite this being an arrangement you both had settled for sex and sex only. Still lost in thoughts after a few minutes in a pleasant silence, you leaned back and pulled his softening cock out of you and made yourself comfortable on his laps, your skirt still rolled up and your panties pushed to the side that you didn’t bother to fix.

“Thank you,” you softly beamed at him, kissing the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been awesome at this.”

He chuckled, taking in the messy and disheveled look you had on. “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

You took your hand and caressed his cheek. “Maybe next time I could make a couple of moves on you… Fuck you my way perhaps.”

“Oh, yeah? Can’t wait for you to show me.”

The next day you were better than ever as you strolled on your floor. Employees were gathering around already, but there was a fuss in the back, specifically coming from the break room. You made your way through the people, and you saw the body of one of your eldest employees being carried out by the authorities. Without noticing exactly, you stood up by Sam’s side.

“What happened?” you asked in disbelief.

“They think Paul got here pretty early, and, uhm, killed himself with the microwave,” Sam replied, looking away in the direction they took the corpse.

He was avoiding your eyes, but you didn’t care that much at that moment, considering the situation. And you did your best to keep it cool, thinking about what he had witnessed in that stupid elevator. It was so silly; you just started speaking to Sam three weeks ago since he began working there and now, it suddenly was as if you were cheating on him.

But you were forced to remind yourself it was not the moment, nor the place to wander on that. An employee of yours had supposedly committed suicide and you just remembered what he had been waiting for since a couple of months ago.

“Oh god, he was just about to retire,” you mumbled, crossing your arms on your chest. “How could it be? He seemed perfectly fine, but I guess you don’t know in the end.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Sam answered and he looked directly at you for just a couple of seconds. “Sorry, I need to go. Haven’t punched for my shift,” he said before going away with long strides, and you were left all by yourself.

Dean, who was witnessing your small conversation a few feet away, approached you immediately. The rest of the employees leaving the door frame as well.

“Hey,” Dean started, keeping his face stern and with a professional tone of voice.

“Hey…”

“I’m so sorry,” he continued as you started the way back to your office.

“Yeah, uhm, thank you,” you stuttered. “Actually, I don't know how to feel.”

“It’s pretty normal. It’s not like a situation we encounter everyday, so I understand it.”

Dean stopped once you did outside your office. You gave him a nod and a half smile that disappeared quickly.

“I guess so… I will have to write and prepare something for his family, sorry if anything we came up with is not on my plans anymore…”

“Absolutely no need to apologize to me, I get it. You’re gonna be fine,” he insisted, squeezing your shoulder in a friendly manner.

You knew your relationship was just physical, but this time you really needed to get it sorted out. He would always show you he understands.

“Thanks, Dean,” you smiled before leaving him in the hall.

When you locked yourself inside your office, he sighed deeply. Something was wrong, he thought while walking away. He got a quick glance of Sam, the guy who he had seen outside the elevator the day before and the one who spoke to you just moments ago. There was something weird about him too, and Dean remembered him asking if they knew each other when, in reality, Dean was sure he had never seen Sam through all his life. Maybe there was a chance? A hunch? Something that probably could connect them after all? Or maybe he was going insane. To sort out the curiosity he suddenly felt about the whole situation, Dean decided to look up Paul's file in the archives by himself.

Once the day was over, you just wanted to head home. Mr. Adler, your boss and Dean’s superior, was putting a huge pressure on you to deliver the remaining files you still had on your email, not really showing a shred of sympathy at the sudden events going on in your teams’ floor. When the headache stopped being tolerable, you decided it was enough and that you should leave.

Closing the office door behind you, you saw Sam getting ready to leave as well. He had been staying late, without you knowing. He noticed you stopping by his cubicle and smiled awkwardly; you sensed the same shame you felt last night.

“Staying late I see,” you started.

“Yeah, I got some other things to do,” Sam answered, brushing his hair softly.

You took that in as a sign of lying, but said nothing as you both started to leave the empty office.

“Right,” you nodded.

A silence envolveded you and he dared to speak again. “I didn’t notice you coming around today.”

“I had things to do as well,” you replied with a soft smile on your lips, spreading the gesture on him too.

“Tough day, huh?”

“It really has been tough,” you tried to laugh it off.

There was a small hesitation building up inside you, wondering if you should leave or wait for him when Sam got his stuff from the locker. But in the end, you felt like staying and facing whatever it was you were feeling. Too many things were happening at the same time, with Dean and you hooking up, the sudden death, and now this weird tension with Sam and how he was avoiding you the whole day. So you waited for Sam to get out, and you walked together inside the elevator. It was just the two of you there.

“I’m sorry you had to see that yesterday,” you began, looking at him with brows furrowed. He had a blank face and you breathed deeply. “I’m not like that, I swear, I just, I don’t know, it felt like it, and—”

“Did we know each other before this?” he asked abruptly, interrupting your words. His eyes were locked on yours for the first time through the day.

“Excuse me?”

“I came here like three weeks ago, but I feel like I’ve known you more than that,” he explained with a serious expression.

Confused, you shook your head in slow motion. “No, I don’t think so… I don’t know.”

“But there’s something, right?”

“Sam, you’re scaring me—”

“Just think about it,” he insisted, taking a step forward to get close to you. “Why do you feel like this?”

Sam leaned more and more towards you, and honestly, you had a vague idea of what he was talking about. The mixed, weird feelings you experienced with him were so different from Dean. Not like you were in a relationship, however it certainly felt as if you had done something really, really wrong to Sam. But that didn’t hit you until morning.

“Like what?”

“Like if we shared more than just a professional relationship? Maybe in another life?”

There was a shared heat as the elevator went down. You didn’t have time to think further than that, but what if this wasn’t what you really were? Could be an option as to how that weird sensation had been scratching you every time you saw his beautiful face.

What if it was a dream? A very weird one that you’ve been trapped in with both of them being the center of everything. You were not sure. What you were sure of was how you loved Dean’s touch every time you were out of work, the way Sam would get nervous when you approached his desk to chat for a bit… The way they both looked at you with love and desire, just as how Sam was watching you right at that moment.

This time, you didn’t stop him from kissing you.

taglist: @nix-rose

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female reader #spn 4.17 #idk enjoy

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foldingfittedsheets · 3 months ago

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Hi Bed Guru! I'm curious about your thoughts and any advice you can give about adjustable beds. Is it basically just the base/frame? Do they need special or specific mattresses? Are they worth it, especially for someone with arthritis (knees, back, shoulders, etc)?

Yeah so instead of having a box spring and a frame, an adjustable base goes right under the mattress and replaces both. You can have a wooden frame around one for aesthetics, but the base holds the bed up and moves it around without the need for anything else.

Adjustable bases. Are. The. Tits. They are so good. There is a million problems they can help with aside from just being comfy as hell. Arthritis and general pressure is one of them.

Ideally if you can convert to back sleeping they can help you the best but you can still get benefits as a side sleeper.

Raising your head even 6” helps with tons of stuff from snoring, sleep apnea, acid reflux, it can help ease sleep apnea but obviously one shouldn’t ditch their machine. It can reduce migraine symptoms in long term studies and is just all around comfy.

Now some folks have tried to use multiple pillows or wedge pillows. The problem with multiple pillows is that every time you need to wake up and adjust them you’re losing sleep, and the wedges are high so they don’t work for most people. The base can sit up in bed to read, watch tv, whatever, then go back down to sleeping height.

Having the legs up makes your lower back way happier, it helps blood to circulate better. There’s a reason people love sleeping in recliners an the base turns your bed into an even better recliner. I can’t say enough good things. Head and feet up create something that got dubbed “zero gravity” which is your body without pressure points. Very useful for achey joints, and the reason adjustable bases got their start in hospitals.

Those features are enough. Head up and down are where all the good stuff is. I personally love my base which has memory settings so I can hit one button to go from sleeping position to recliner position. Mine also has massage which helps me fall asleep way faster. Those features are extra and not strictly necessary but I think they’re great.

There’s even fancier ones with speakers and USB ports and all sorts of stuff so you can go as tricked out as you want but all the basic health benefits are at the bottom end when head and feet elevate. Everything else is just convenience.

As for which beds- almost all modern beds are compatible with adjustable bases. The only kind that’s incompatible are the veryyyy old interconnected coil beds. They’re not very common nowadays because power bases are so ubiquitous that beds need to flex with them.

#ask ffs #bed talk #I have been crafting this reply all day but due to the agonies it was delayed

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honeytonedhottie · 10 months ago

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embodying the wellness girlie aesthetic⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

i rly love the pink pilates princess aesthetic so i thought i'd make a post on some habits that i've incorporated that rly fit this aesthetic. and improve my wellness in general.

THE PLAYLIST : for the pink pilates princess aesthetic i rly love to listen to music that makes me feel like a doll~ so the playlist aspect of this post is totally customizable and just suited to however u wanna feel. i listen to a lot of twice and sabrina carpenter when i work out. but listening to music just elevates the experience

THE NUTRITION : u dont have to do a complete 180 in the things that u consume, instead start implementing little by little, foods and drinks that'll improve ur health. bcuz u glow differently when ur glowing not only from the outside but the inside as well

kombucha - i totally recommend trying it if u haven't before. its kind of carbonated and u can get it in any flavors. kombucha in a nutshell is tea thats been fermented. it heals ur gut and contains lots of probiotics which are good for ur body in general

drink tea - drinking tea daily is so so so good for you. if ur a bit intimidated by tea start off with a tea 99% of people enjoy, spearmint/peppermint tea. idk many people who DONT like spearmint tea. its just an easy tea to enjoy and its RLY good for ur skin and ur body.

smoothies - look up smoothie recipes online! smoothies are so yummy and customizable so if u dont wanna directly consume ur veggies, you can get them in through a drink! its revolutionary. my go-to is strawberry and banana, bcuz its not only delicious and good for me, but its also pink which is the main reason

eat more salads, açai bowls, eat ur oats, drink ur smoothies and of course dont forget ur matcha

supplements - u can find wellness vitamins or supplements virtually anywhere. a brand that i rly recommend is ollie. im taking their hair skin and nails vitamins and they're lovely.

THE EXERCISE : if u go to youtube and look up follow along pilates workouts u can find SO many. use ur resources guys! if u try pilates and it isnt rly ur thing, try dance workouts or workouts for songs. try a workout challenge. working out doesn't have to be dull. the key is to find something that u enjoy doing and doing it consistently

SELF CARE : ofc the pink pilates princess prioritizes her self care time~ self care is just a good habit to incorporate period bcuz of the massive benefits on ur mental + physical + emotional state

do a face mask - hydrate ur skin guys

get ur nails done - the classic pink pilates princess nails are pale pinks and french tips

take a bubble bath - invest in a high quality bath bomb or bubble mixture that smells nice

invest in a gua sha

start oiling ur hair and putting in hair masks to keep ur hair healthy

write out what ur grateful for (self care isnt only physical)

GOING FOR WALKS : going for walks is amazing. walking improves cardiovascular health and reduces the chances of heart disease and strokes. i love to go for walks and listen to music or a podcast. just make sure that your walking in a safe space or with someone that u trust, especially if ur alone (stay safe <3) going for walks also helps clear ur thoughts!!

ATTIRE : buy clothes that make u feel cute and that make u feel good whilst working out! i like to wear a lot of pink when working out~ when i type pink pilates princess inspired outfits into pinterest i see a lot with leg warmers too! i think that having a cute outfit to workout in motivates u a lot to actually perform the actions and embody the wellness girlie aesthetic. cuz when u look the part -> u feel the part

and last but not least ENJOY urself and romanticize it, have fun <3

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months ago

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show me where it hurts

Marcus Moreno x gn!nurse!reader

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 3.0! my prompt was marcus moreno and nurse play, both of which I have never written about before!

summary: the heroics have a clinic on-site, so you're not sure why marcus moreno keeps turning up at yours.

words: 1.9k

warnings: non-graphic description of injury, the author knows nothing about medical care, the author saw 'we can be heroes' once, aphrodisiacs, implied sex pollen, dubcon associated with sex pollen, marcus is a little bit of a pervert, nurse kink, unethical medical care, unethical relations between nurse and patient, oral, reader has no name or description or gender, sorry if you're a marcus stan and I butchered your boy :( lol, subby!marcus, not even proofread oop

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t quite understand it, until you do.

But for months, it makes no damn sense. You know the Heroics have a clinic at headquarters and medics on the team.

So why does the team leader come all the way here to your little walk-in clinic? Why does he pay in cash in full when the on-site doctors are almost definitely part of his benefits package?

You never ask. Not as the months drag to years and Marcus Moreno knocks on your door at any odd hour with no rhyme or reason, bloodied or bruised or both.

The first time, you didn’t recognize him. He had changed out of the suit into a worn pair of Levis and a soft cardigan patterned in reds and browns. Black framed glasses perched upon his nose, and the only thing you thought unusual about this man, other than his attractiveness, was the strange jagged border of the bite on his calf.

When you asked what type of animal caused the injury, he shrugged. “Alien dog,” he said, voice lilting as if he was asking you.

“Alien dog?”

He had the sense to look sheepish.

When he handed back the clipboard with his information and consent for treatment, you had heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe lead with this first next time, Mr. Moreno,” you said, ushering him back to your single exam room.

“Sorry, doc,” he said.

“Not a doctor. Didn’t you read your paperwork?” you scolded with a teasing smile. “Or are those glasses just for disguise?”

“Not a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse practitioner,” you explained. “I do a lot of the same things as a physician. But I don’t have a doctorate, so you can’t call me doctor.”

“You’re a nurse?” he said, and you noticed a red tinge to his face.

“Are you feeling warm, Mr. Moreno?” you asked, reaching for the thermometer and tucking it under his tongue before tugging his pant leg back up to check the borders of the gash for inflamation.

His temperature was fine but his blood pressure and heart rate were elevated. “I’m going to give you antibiotics,” you said, holding a finger up against his protests. “It doesn’t look infected, but your vitals are off, and ‘alien dog’ makes me concerned.”

“I’m just… it’s not…” he tried.

“White coat syndrome?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, watching the ground with interest.

When you finally caught up on the news that night, you dropped your mug of room-temperature tea at the sight of the alleged alien dog. Understatement of the fucking century. The creature on the screen with Marcus Moreno’s leg in its jaws was less like a dog and more like a furry alligator.

It’s not that he comes by frequently, but it’s enough that you’re never surprised to see him. Mutant chickens flooding the streets? Marcus Moreno knocks at your door covered in peck marks. A league of supervillains arrives with a weather manipulator? Frostbitten Marcus Moreno. A hacker sends a hypnobeam through a mall full of holiday shoppers, leading to hours of line dancing? Marcus Moreno lags in with a limp leg.

This time, though, it’s unclear what his affliction is. Until it isn’t.

He had texted—you had given him your number sometime between the 20th and 50th witching hour visit—but all it said was “coming.”

It was only 2 p.m., but you flipped the sign to closed anyway, preferring to give Marcus some privacy. It was a good thing, too, since his text was apparently dual-purposed.

He’s splotchy all over like a blossoming rash and sweat-slick. His glasses are in his jacket pocket, having been abandoned when they just kept fogging up. He’s wavering on the spot and you reach out to grab him, freezing when you realize he’s still in his tactical suit.

He never comes here in costume. He especially never comes here armed, but sure as shit, there are two katanas on his back.

You reach to yank him inside before he draws attention to himself, but he recoils.

“Don’t!” he yelps. “Don’t t-touch me.”

Instead, he waits until you step back before he squeezes into the lobby and plasters himself to the wall opposite you.

“What happened?” you say.

“Don’t know for sure,” he says, panting. “I got hit with some kind of dart.” He holds it out for you to see, as well as you can in the light that filters through the dusty window and flickering, dim fluorescents overhead. It’s small with a very sharp needle and a clear glass body. You can see the viscous remains of a thick pink liquid, akin to Pepto Bismol.

“Mr. Moreno, this really seems like something beyond my capacity,” you start.

“Please,” he gasps. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here, I-I…”

You sigh. “At least come into the exam room so I can get a better look at you.”

He groans. “Please don’t say things like that,” he mumbles, but inches his way over to the door.

You go to follow, and he holds up a hand.

“How am I supposed to figure out what’s wrong with you if I can’t come in?” you say with your hands on your hips.

“You have to stay on the other side of the room,” he says through gritted teeth, backing up against the table when you enter the room and shut the door.

“Start talking.”

“F-fine. I… I feel…” his face is redder than you’ve ever seen.

It’s then that you notice how he’s shed his leather jacket and is struggling to look nonchalant as he holds it at his waist.

“Like you took ten Viagra?” you wager.

He groans again, covering his face.

You can’t help but think it’s adorable. He’s always kind of adorable, like a broad, superpowered puppy.

“Mr. Moreno,” you start.

“Marcus,” he insists for the hundredth time.

“Marcus,” you acquiesce, “this really is out of my wheelhouse, here. I don’t know how to treat you when you’ve been drugged with a strange aphrodisiac. You need to see medical at headquarters.”

“I did,” he whispers.

“And they wouldn’t help you?” The idea sets your blood aboil.

“No, they… they couldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“They said it has to run its course. That I need to… I need to…” but he can’t even finish the sentence. This is not how he wanted any of this to go.

The realization burns through you. “You didn’t come here for an exam. You came here for me to treat you. But then… why did you act like you didn’t know what was wrong?”

"I’m sorry,” he groans again. “You’re going to think I’m a total creep.”

And then it adds up. The way he always visits you. The way he blushes. You thought he was just shy or self-conscious. But no.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’ve been coming here for spank bank fodder?”

“N-not just, oh god, please don’t say it like that. I didn’t-I wouldn’t…” he sighs and gives up. “It didn’t start that way.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat. The disbelief. “What, is it some kind of nurse kink?”

You can tell you’ve hit his weak spot when he full body cringes.

“I’ll leave. I’m sorry,” he says, mopping the sweat off his forehead with his equally sweaty arm. “I thought if I just saw you that it might be enough to take the edge off.”

“Is that right?” you say, suddenly not finding it very funny. “Take a seat on the table.”

He opens and closes his mouth stupidly.

“Take a seat on the table, Mr. Moreno. I’m going to need to do a full exam. Would you like me to step out of the room while you undress?”

Both of you are equally floored by your boldness. It feels almost wrong, knowing he’s under the influence, but he had admitted to thinking of you while he jerked off, so you were feeling less guilty about getting off to YouTube compilations of him in action.

“Are you sure?” Marcus asks, though he’s already unzipping his suit.

You nod, mouth running dry.

He makes quick work of the suit, sitting before you in a tight pair of purple briefs that strain under the unrelenting pressure of his thick cock. They’re soaked, far more than just pre-cum.

No, it’s very apparent that he’s spilled into his pants multiple times already.

You tsk softly. “You should have come in sooner, Mr. Moreno,” you murmur, bringing your stethoscope to his bare chest and placing your fingers on the inside of his wrist. You don’t pay attention to the fluttering beats of his heart, though, instead taking in the lithe, sinewy muscle of his arms.

“Sorry, nurse,” he whispers.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as you tuck the thermometer under his tongue, which darts out, pink and wet, to take it in. You can’t help but moan, imagining a much better use for it.

He sits squirming on the table, paper crinkling under his ass and a puddle forming in the front, as you continue your exam. Your steady hands move the stethoscope down his back, coaching him softly through deep breaths, and taking the opportunity to feel the planes of his rippling muscles.

“Sit still,” you scold, and he whines.

“Please, I can’t take it.”

“Be a good boy for me, Marcus,” you murmur, and his whole body shudders as he comes, soaking through the saturated cotton and spilling onto the tan padding of the table.

You can’t stop yourself from swiping a finger through it and bringing it to your mouth to taste, moaning softly.

“You’re killing me,” he groans.

“Hmm, that won’t do. Hippocratic oath and all,” you say, rubbing a hand over his thigh. “Now tell me, Mr. Moreno, where does it hurt?”

“You know where it hurts,” he whines.

“Show me how you were trying to fix it on your own,” you say, ignoring his rising, pathetic whimpers.

He wastes no time freeing his cock from the underwear and fisting it, not needing any lubricant other than his own come. He tugs at it fiercely and you click your tongue at him again.

“I think I see the problem,” you say, pulling his hand away and cradling his heavy balls in your own.

“Can you help me, nurse?” he says, practically sobbing from relief at your touch.

“Oh, I definitely can,” you say, kicking out the metal step and sinking to your knees on it. You think about teasing him, but he’s clearly tortured himself enough, so you just take him into your mouth.

He comes immediately, tearful apologies pouring from his mouth, but you swallow him down and shush him soothingly after, stroking his still-hard cock with one hand.

“Shh, don’t worry. I can make it feel better,” you say between kitten licks at his sensitive tip.

He’s writhing on the table again already and sobs in earnest when you take him into your throat and bob your head.

He fists the exam table, paper shredded under his hands, as you draw orgasm after orgasm from his overspent body until finally, finally, his cock flags a little. His heart rate is steadier, but he’s exhausted, flopped back on the table with tear-stained cheeks.

“M’sorry,” he whispers again once he’s gone soft.

“Me too,” you admit. “That’s not really how I imagined this going.”

He lifts his head weakly. “You imagined this?” There’s an unmistakable echo of hope.

“Yeah,” you lay your cards on the table. “I was going to tell you I couldn’t treat you anymore first though. Ethics and all that.”

“I was going to ask you out this weekend,” he confesses, tongue loosened by the night’s activities.

“Okay,” you agree.

“What?”

“Okay, ask me out for this weekend.”

He grins, sloppy and slanted. “Can I take you on a proper date?”

You match his grin. “Mr. Moreno, I thought you’d never ask.”

#writing challenge #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x gn!reader

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fandom-alley · 2 years ago

Text

Rekindling at the Spa

18+

Summary: Spencer has an evening at the spa as per his doctors orders, and meets up with a girl he met at Penelope's over a year ago. This time he convinces himself not to leave without getting her phone number, but he ends up getting a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: Fluff, smut (like hardly though)

Warnings: 18+, kissing, making out, semi-public (no ones around) grinding, coming untouched/in pants

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: inspired by my recent trip to the spa where i realized just how single i am. this is my first time writing something spicier than making out, so it's not a lot and just at the end, go easy on me lol

Also on AO3

The last thing Spencer Reid wanted to do was spend his evening at the hydrotherapy spa. Germs from the water of hot tubs could make you sick if consumed, and so could the vapour that comes off the water. Not to mention the possibility of a rash due to the chemicals used. But it was his doctor's orders. Apparently his own doctoral status was not good enough to sway them to let him come back to work early and skip this step.

There were many steps he had to complete as part of his recovery process; resting his injured leg, physical therapy, changes to his diet, therapy for his mental health. And the dreaded ‘spa relaxation��.

Now, most doctors probably wouldn’t prescribe a day at the spa as something to do as part of recovery, but Spencer’s doctor knew him well. He knew that throughout the last month, even though Spencer had completed most of his steps, he wasn’t relaxing through any of it. And his doctor was correct. Spencer’s brain had been working double time, reading twice the amount of books he usually did in a day while he was immobile elevating his injured leg. Reading up on new techniques for profiling and offering tips to the BAU when they worked a local case.

His doctor could tell that his inability to relax his brain, therefore relaxing his body, was the last step in holding him back from complete recovery.

So here he was, entering a Nordic hydrotherapy spa, where he was not allowed to bring in any cell phones, tablets, or hold loud conversations with anyone. And while it was acceptable to bring books in to read, Spencer didn’t want to risk dropping one in the water and ruining it. So he was about to be forced to put his self meditation techniques to use.

After changing into his swim shorts, putting on the complimentary robe and locking away his belongings, Spencer stepped out of the main building into the frigid evening air. He breathed in the scent of salt, chlorine, and eucalyptus from the nearby steam room. Hidden speakers in the plant beds around the property played out relaxing spa style music. Spencer had to admit, despite his reservations regarding germs, he already did feel quite relaxed.

The steam coming off the hot pools seemed to blanket the grounds in silence. It wasn’t that busy, but Spencer spotted a few people relaxing in the pools and walking in-between sections of the spa grounds.

Upon his check in tonight, the kind lady at the front desk informed him how to use the spa for maximum relaxation and hydrotherapy benefits. She recommended he sit in a hot pool for 10 to 15 minutes, take a plunge in the cold pool for at least 15 seconds or as long as he could handle, and then relax in a sauna, steam room, or relaxation room before continuing the process a few times.

The property was large, with 4 different hot pools, 3 different cold plunge pools, 2 rooms for wood burning saunas, the eucalyptus steam room, and multiple chairs dotting the ground surrounding fireplaces where you could sit and relax. Without putting too much thought to it, Spencer hung up his robe near the closest hot pool and stepped into the burning water.

The change in temperature stung his cold toes as they started to warm up. The water was only up to his waist as he waded through past a few couples sitting to the sides. He made his way to the back of the pool where it was blissfully empty and took a seat. Since he was so tall sitting on the built in seats along the edge of the pool, the water only went up to mid chest. But the rest of his exposed skin felt refreshed with the cool air blowing over him. A good contrast to the hot water covering the rest of his body.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to shut his brain off. It worked for a few minutes, before he heard a couple a few feet over whispering sweet nothings to each other. It just made Spencer start thinking about his own lacklustre love life.

With his job in the BAU there wasn't that much opportunity and time for a relationship. Sure, some of his co-workers had figured it out. Like JJ and Will for instance. Spencer had seen how difficult it was for Morgan to hold down a relationship with their crazy work hours as well.

He hadn't really put that much effort into a relationship, though. Part of the reason was that he just didn't have the time. Some of the cases kept them away from home for weeks at a time. Sometimes to the point where he really didn't know how his friends and co-workers were able to keep it up. He was the type of guy who wanted to get to know someone, be around them lots in the early stages, and that was just too hard with work.

Spencer jolted out of his daydream when someone splashed into the seat next to him.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice belonged to a pretty girl, who if he had to guess was maybe just a few years younger than him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to place where he recognized her from. "You're Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied with a furrowed brow, wracking his brain on why her big brown eyes looked like they knew him as well.

Thankfully she caught on to his confusion. "I'm y/n. Penelope's friend from book club. We met a year ago at her place when she had a viewing party for the season finale of Love Is Blind. I almost didn't go because I really don't watch reality TV, but I had just moved to the area and I wanted to try and make some friends."

Spencer remembered her now. Back then at the party she had her hair down in unruly curls and it was the colour of fire engine red. Now her hair was tied back to stay out of the water and it was the colour of midnight black. He wasn't one to forget a face, or forget much of anything really. But something about a dramatic change in hair colour and style had the Clark Kent effect on him. Maybe it was because he was in a pretty decent state of relaxation.

"I remember you," he said, nodding his head in recognition. "I also didn't want to go to that party but Penelope is hard to say no to."

Y/n laughed, "Yes she is, isn't she. It's good though. Because of her persistence I was able to make a few friends that night. And on multiple other nights as well. Penelope frequently tries to set me up on dates." She was talking pretty quietly as per spa rules, and it would have been hard to hear if she hadn't sat close and leaned in while she talked. Normally Spencer would have backed away, but something about her presence was soothing. Or maybe that was just the water jets from the pool shooting into his back.

"So what brings you to the spa tonight?" Spencer asked her. He might have met her back then at the party, but they hadn't said many words to each other. He remembered being slightly intimidated by her fiery hair and bubbly personality and after their initial introduction he snuck away with his glass of juice to browse Pen's book collection.

"Actually, it was a birthday gift from Penelope!" Y/n smiled.

"Oh, happy birthday." Spencer smiled back at her. Why was he intimidated back then, he thought to himself. She was so beautiful and so nice, and so far fairly easy to talk to, it seemed.

"Thank you. But it's actually not until next month. Penelope just told me this was the only night she could get a reservation and that when my actual birthday happened she would buy me a cake," y/n laughed.

Spencer pursed his lips in confusion. When he booked his reservation on his doctor's orders, there looked to have been multiple available times from now until the end of the year. The only day that was sold out was Thanksgiving weekend.

"When did she give you the gift with the reservation in it?" He asked y/n, with a hint of scepticism in his voice.

"About 3 days ago I think it was," she answered. About 3 days ago is when Spencer called up Penelope to rant to her about being forced to go to this spa. Was it possible Pen had given Y/n the gift as an excuse to try and set them up? Back at the party he had gotten the vibe when she introduced them that she wanted them to become friends. But Spencer had never gotten her number or email, and figured it just wasn't meant to be. Although how could it be, when he actively avoided her most of that night.

"What a coincidence that we're both here on the same night," Spencer told her.

"I know, right? I wasn't completely sure that you were you when I saw you sitting over here. But you're a hard one to forget, Dr. Reid," y/n said. Was that a blush he saw forming on her cheeks, or was she just getting too warm from the water.

"You can just call me Spencer. I really don't make anyone use doctor unless we're at work," he chuckled.

"Will do, Spencer. I hope you don't mind that I came over to sit with you. I can leave if you want the relaxation of being alone." She started to slide away from her seat slowly, giving him the opportunity to tell her she didn't need to leave. Which is exactly what he did.

"I don't mind. It's kind of nice to have company. I didn't realize how many people went to the spa with their partners," he told her.

"Well, perfect. We can experience this spa together then. So how come you didn't come here with your partner?" Y/n asked slyly. Spencer could feel his face heat up with the attention turned to himself.

"No partner. I actually had to come here by doctor's orders. I got shot in the leg last month, and as the last part of recovery my doctor wanted me to relax more and figured what better way to force me to relax than to send me to the spa.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m tempted to ask if you’re okay, but it seems like you are, since you’re sitting here. I had no idea your job could lead to such violence,” Y/n exclaimed.

“Every day is something different. They usually keep me off the field working from the office or police stations, but even then you never know what could happen,” Spencer explained.

“Wow. Okay, sorry. This is supposed to be relaxing and here I am bringing up work talk. What do you say we take a plunge into the cold?” Y/n asked with a grin.

This was probably the experience at the spa he was least likely to enjoy, but he followed her out of the water and next door to the cold pool. It was completely empty and Spencer was not surprised. Y/n grabbed his hand, sending a shock through his body, as they stood at the top of the stairs to the pool.

“It’s pretty likely that one of us is going to wimp out once our feet hit the water. So if need be, we have to drag the other person in, okay?” She said as she looked up at him. His voice got caught in his throat as he looked down at her and all he could do was nod in agreement.

With a deep breath in, together they stepped onto the first step. It was so cold Spencer felt like his toes would fall off in a second. However he didn’t even get a second thought to think about stepping back out before y/n fell forward into the water, pulling him with her. He had to grab onto her hips for stability so he didn’t end up falling on top of her in the 3 feet of water.

“It’s so cold,” Y/n gasped out.

It might have been 15 seconds, it might have been 5 minutes, but Spencer felt lost in time as he held Y/n in his arms in the freezing cold water. He didn’t even feel that cold in the places where Y/n’s skin touched his. Slowly, as if held down by some invisible force, he removed his hands from her hips and grabbed her hand this time to help her out of the water.

Feeling a new burst of energy from the cold shock, Spencer helped Y/n into her robe before putting on his, then wordlessly grabbed her hand and led her to one of the saunas. Inside, they were met with a blast of heat as Spencer guided Y/n to the back bench. Every seat in the sauna faced a wall made of glass that overlooked a small lake with a fountain cascading in the middle. As he relaxed into his seat, Y/n decided to lay out on the bench beside him and use his thigh as a head rest.

Neither of them said a word as they gazed out the window, watching the birds fly by and the ducks swim in the lake.

Spencer thought back to the night of Penelope’s party. After he had pushed himself to the wall to avoid interacting with people, he did end up watching from afar as Y/n made her way around talking to all the guests. He might have initially felt intimidated, but he was also fascinated with her. He’d seen a lot of different people with his job, and he’d seen people with colourfully dyed hair before as well, but something about her red curls just drew in his eyes and he couldn’t take them back.

She was beautiful, enchanting even, and he wanted to get her phone number. But then he had thought back to their last case. Where they had been gone for 16 days in a row. He had watched JJ as she video called Will and her kids any chance they got. Watched Hotch take numerous phone calls from his son. Even Morgan escaped for private chats with Savannah. He wasn’t sure if that was something he would be able to handle. So eventually he said goodnight to Penelope, left the party, and left any thoughts he had about Y/n behind as well.

Now that Penelope had schemingly gotten her back into his life, he was determined to make sure he got her number before leaving again.

Spencer and Y/n enjoyed the spa amenities for another couple hours, cycling through the recommended steps while chatting quietly or relaxing in silence. Despite not doing much, they started to feel tired from the heated pools and saunas before eventually agreeing to meet outside in the parking lot after they got changed so they could say a proper goodbye.

Spencer rushed through changing, not wanting to take too long in case Y/n decided she didn’t want to stay, and made it outside in record time. He stood off to the side at the parking lot entrance, waiting for her with his heart racing. It took her a little bit longer, but eventually he saw her walking down the path.

Her hair was down now, damp and a little frizzy from her curls trying to poke through. Wearing a simple black zip up sweater and black leggings, she looked cozy but also like she was about to rob a bank. She smiled at him when she reached his spot, taking his hand in hers to lead him to where she parked. The lot had almost emptied, leaving mostly staff vehicles and the last few remaining spa guests wanting to get every minute out of their visit as they could. Even with the empty lot, Y/n led Spencer to her car, a little black Honda, parked alone in the corner lit up only by the bright moon in the sky.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you tonight, Spencer,” Y/n told him when they stopped beside her car. She didn’t move to unlock it, opting instead to stand there with her hand still clasped in his.

“Of course. It was really lovely to see you again, Y/n,” said Spencer. Okay, he thought to himself, now is the time to do it. Bite the bullet and ask for her number. “Would you, maybe, be willing to exchange numbers and we can plan to go out for coffee some time soon?”

Y/n broke into a smile. “I would love that,” she said before reciting her number. She knew he would remember it, if Penelope’s constant chatter about how amazing Spencer’s memory is was to be true.

“Awesome. So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Spencer moved to head back to his own vehicle but was stopped by a hand placed on the centre of his chest.

“Yeah. Or,” said Y/n, “Maybe we could do this?”

Before he could ask what ‘this’ was, she used the hand on his chest to push him back against the door of her car. Then she leaned in, rising up onto her toes to try and match his height, and placed her lips on his. It was quick, but enough to leave Spencer breathless, before she pulled away the slightest bit to look into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and when he mumbled out a yes, nodding his head, she wasted no time going back in.

Their lips crashed together in an instant, almost too eager to finally be getting what they’ve both been craving all night. Y/n removed her hand from his chest to bring both of them into his hair, feeling the damp curls and giving them a little tug. Spencer brought his arms around her waist tightly, bringing her in closer to help relieve the strain of standing on her toes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, and in a parking lot. But he wouldn’t change a thing. Y/n’s hands made their way down to the back of his neck, before she brought them to his jaw. He let out a groan when she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth, before their tongues collided with one another.

Spencer brought his hands down even further, to grip the soft area at the back of her thigh just underneath her butt. He used his new grip to pull her up higher, spinning them around so that it was her back pressed against the car this time. She wrapped her legs around him to hold on as Spencer moved one of his hands up to her face, running his fingers along her jaw before finally pushing her hair back away from her neck. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses along her neck, stopping to suck or nip at areas that drew a soft moan from her lips. He made his way down to her chest, where she had left part of the sweater unzipped.

When he pulled back on the sweater he stopped with a groan, breathing deeply as he held her closer and grew tighter in his pants. Where he was expecting to see some sort of lace bra, instead he was met with nothing. She wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater. Hungrily, he opened her sweater more and he attached himself to the soft swell of her breast. Kissing, sucking, and gently biting.

Without even realizing it, they started to move against each other. Spencer rolled his hips against hers, seeking that friction but focusing his attention on the skin between his lips.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/n threw her head back in a moan as Spencer finally attached his mouth to the hard nub that was waiting for attention. He swirled his tongue around as he sucked on the sensitive area. “That feels so good.” she groaned. She brought her hands up to tangle them in his hair and hold him in place, only letting him move when he wanted to show her other side some love as well.

It was difficult to move much against the car, but Spencer was hitting her in all the right places. Y/n could feel a familiar welcomed pressure building in her core and she gripped her legs tighter around him.

“Spencer,” y/n breathed out. “I’m close.”

He lifted his head enough to look at her. Her head back and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Yeah?” he asked and she nodded her head while trying to move her hips faster against his.

Spencer ground into her with a new purpose now. Paying more attention to the moves from his hips, he went back to sucking on her breast. This time he brought his hand to palm the other one. Squeezing and feeling the fullness of it in his hand. He rolled and pinched her nipple between his fingers at the same time as he gently grazed his teeth over the other one. It was enough to send Y/n over the edge, with Spencer right behind her.

Spencer’s thrusts grew short until eventually they stopped as they came down from their high. He brought her in for another kiss, lazily moving his lips against hers while they got their breathing under control. Finally, Y/n unwrapped her legs from around him and he let her go.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe we just did that,” she said with a suddenly shy smile and glanced up at him. He looked down at her like he was seeing an angel.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He gripped the edges of her sweater and zipped it up tight to her neck. “What do you say we skip the coffee and go right back to my place?”

“I like the way you think. Lead the way.”

Click here for chapter 2! Available on AO3 only because it's basically smut and I was too nervous to post it on Tumblr lol

Thank you for reading, liking, or rebloging! <3

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #alleys writing #spencer reid/fem reader

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 10 months ago

Text

Sunrise in the East

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Fem!Reader ; Hailee Steinfeld x Fem!Reader very briefly at the start.

Summary: Reader is very happy having one-night stands or having friends with benefits, avoiding any serious relationship for a while now. However, things change and she suddenly starts to think that dating wouldn't be all that bad.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so be kind. This is not overly romantic but I do think it represents very well what happens in real life. Also there's some light smut and some very light bdsm (very light).

MASTERLIST

You were still slightly out of breath while you slipped your pants up your legs, the sweat attached to your skin making it a bit harder to do so. Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen such tight jeans to wear that night, but oh well. Leaving the button undone, you turned around to find where your shirt had landed during the haste to get into bed earlier. At least you knew it was inside the room because, more often than not, you would have to walk around the fancy penthouse naked to collect your clothes.

Neither of you was careful with the undressing part.

You found your shirt - the simple black shirt you had slipped on after leaving your house - hanging precariously on the back of the armchair, almost falling behind it, where you probably wouldn’t think about looking before giving up and asking to borrow a shirt from the girl still lying on the bed. You glanced at the naked body barely being covered by the blue sheet while pulling the shirt over your head and grinned a little when you noticed the still red skin where your hands held a hip before. You were undeniably proud of yourself. Shamelessly so too.

Hailee paid you no mind, used by now to have you get up and collect your clothes before either of you could get too comfortable on the large bed, as she propped herself up with one arm to reach out for her phone on the nightstand with the other. Before jumping on the bed with your lips attached to one of her lips, you had asked to use her charger so you wouldn’t have a dead phone while driving back home, so your cell phone was also on the nightstand beside hers.

With one last look at the woman - still feeling so goddamn proud of yourself - you went inside the bathroom to make yourself more presentable to walk out of her apartment. You would have to take the elevator down and walk to your car parked across the street. If anyone happened to stumble over you, the last thing you needed was to look freshly fucked. You were very open about your sexuality to the press but there was no need for anyone to find out about your little arrangement with Hailee.

You were just using her mouthwash to rinse your mouth - sadly losing the last traces of her taste on your tongue - when you planned your next steps. Go to the kitchen, drink some water, go back to the bedroom, grab your phone, put your belt back on - you would have to take that one from the headboard of Hailee’s bed - and leave. Maybe you would make a quick stop by the wine store on your way home since it was on your way.

Mouthwash back in place at the sink, you left the bathroom with a big intake of breath. “Do you want some water?” You asked her, leaning down to grab Hailee’s bra from the floor. She threw it on the armchair with a smirk.

Hailee nodded distractedly before she turned to grab the empty glass from her nightstand so you could fill it. That’s when your phone screen lighted up with a new text message and, even though you knew that wasn’t Hailee’s intention, she ended up reading what it said before the screen went black again. You weren’t worried about it, of course, but you quirked one eyebrow when Hailee grabbed your phone and threw you a glare that was obviously filled with anger.

“Did you just receive a text from someone else wanting to have sex with you while you’re still in my room?” She asked and, for a moment, you weren’t sure if she was actually mad or just playing with you.

The agreement between you two has been clear since the start. You were both single, you both needed to take some of the edge off sometimes, and you both enjoyed sex. It was a friends-with-benefits kind of situation, something that has been working for you two for about six months now. You were friends for longer, ever since you met her on the set of Hawkeye, but the sexual part of your friendship hadn’t started immediately.

And even now, six months later, nothing has changed between you two. You hung out with other people from the cast, you chatted and had a nice friendship that didn’t get complicated when one of you wanted to have sex.

The thing is Hailee wasn’t the only one you had that agreement with.

Your job didn’t allow you to be in the same city all the time and you, well, you enjoyed sex.

Having sex without any type of attachment was kind of your thing, actually, and Hailee was aware of that. You two spoke of going out and meeting other people all the time. There was no way you would’ve imagined she would be surprised, and apparently mad, to see you had some type of established friends-with-benefits thing with someone else.

When you didn’t say a thing, Hailee tapped on the screen of your phone to read the text out loud for you. “Are you free tonight? I’m in town and my hotel room has some good wine.” Hailee finished reading it and looked back at you. “With a wink face in the end.”

You were still standing in the middle of her room, not sure how to react to the drastic turn of events, but you just decided to go straight to the point. “We’re not dating,” you reminded her. “And you know I sleep with other people.”

Hailee kept looking at you for a while, probably trying to read what was going on inside your head, until she let out a breath and threw your phone on the mattress. “Don’t blame me for thinking this is a bit wicked.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You decided to do the button on your pants, suddenly not as comfortable anymore, before you stepped closer to the bed to grab your phone. You unlocked the screen to open the messages and, sure enough, there was the text that got Hailee so worked up. Florence’s name was flashing with the notification and you didn’t manage to hold back a little smile because you had no idea Florence would be in the US, let alone in the same town. You liked spending time with her way before you two started with the booty call thing.

“Are you going to see her tonight?” Hailee asked, trying to sound like she didn’t care, but you still saw how she kept throwing glances at you while looking through her phone again.

“Please, don’t tell me you caught some feelings for me,” you teased in order to try to avoid a fight. You didn’t want to fight tonight, especially about that. You liked being very clear with every girl you made an arrangement with. No attachments, no feelings, no wanting to boss you around. “That would be a terrible, terrible, destiny.” You walked to the side of the bed where she was and leaned in closer to her face.

Hailee locked eyes with you, almost challenging, but the girl broke eye contact first, as expected, glancing at your lips with a hungry look on her face. “No, I didn’t.”

“Really? So why are you so mad?”

Dark eyes snapped back to yours, now flaring with anger, and you chuckled happily before pulling away to add some space between you two. There was no way you were going to stay around now. “I’m not mad.” It only took one of your glares for Hailee to sigh and refute what she had just said. “I guess I just felt… disposable,” she admitted almost shyly, going back to being the girl who would give you doe eyes while you tied her wrists to the headboard with your belt.

“Well,” you raised your eyebrows, “we don’t have anything serious going on.”

“No, we don’t,” Hailee agreed with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” You offered her a smile, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the crisis has been averted. Considering that Hailee was very adamant about keeping her bisexuality hidden from the public eye and how eager she had talked about the date she had next week with someone else, you were pretty sure she hadn’t suddenly developed feelings for you, but you guess it would throw most people off to read a text like that. “But, to answer your question, I’m going home. I know it looks like I have infinite stamina but I can’t exactly go around having sex all night,” you joked.

Thankfully, Hailee laughed. “I didn’t know you and Florence have a thing. You never told me.”

“A girl don’t kiss and tell, Hailee,” you winked at her.

“You totally do!” She laughed again, even louder now, before throwing a pillow at you. “But fine, keep your secrets.”

“Hey, I’m just so damn lucky that Marvel gave me two jobs at the same time, and it just happened to be to share a screen with two hot women,” you teased her, addressing the fact that you had shot Hawkeye and the Black Widow movie at the same time a few months ago. Those had been crazy times because you had to be at both locations across the ocean from each other, remember your lines, shoot the scenes without screwing up too much, and find some time to sleep. “And I just spoke exactly like Hemsworth would,” you completed with a grimace.

“Who else you hooked up with?”

Laughing, you shook your head. “Good night, Hailee,” you said while leaning in to grab your belt before turning to leave her room.

[...]

You didn’t meet with Florence that night, though you two made plans to see each other the next day since the girl would be in town for another week. Just like it had happened with Hailee, you and Florence became friends with benefits over time. Things with Florence were very hassle-free. You went out as friends, hung out, grabbed drinks together, watched movies, went to new restaurants, talked about people you two went out with, and, sometimes, you had sex.

It was great and so simple that you could easily say that was probably the one thing in your life that wasn’t even a bit complicated. Which was something that only crossed your mind the night before while you were driving home with music blasting through the radio. Your little chat with Hailee had provoked your thoughts enough to have some of them jump on the back of your head and grab your attention.

You had said to Hailee that having feelings for you would’ve been stupid and you didn’t think you were lying about it but it also made you think about what you were doing with your life exactly. You never had a very serious relationship that lasted more than a few months and now, when most people your age were married with kids, you were still holding onto ‘friends with benefits’ things instead of building up the courage to actually try to build a life with someone. That wasn’t something you were ever worried about but your life crisis lasted the entire night and, by the time you managed to fall asleep, you were pretty sure you would end up being one of the people who died alone in a nursing home without having anyone else to talk with but the nurse who had to change your diaper because she was paid to do so.

A bit dramatic, sure, but your job was literally doing that in front of a screen.

So, by the time you met up with Florence that night, you had an entire day to mull over your life and had made up your mind about what you wanted for the future.

Of course that it was quite hard to remember what your decision had been when Florence had you pinned down on the bed, face pressed against the pillow and ass up, while she pounded behind you with a strap that you had no idea how she managed to travel with it inside her bag. Florence was one of the very few people you ever allowed to fuck you like that. Most of the time, you preferred to be on top, to be in charge, to see the person’s face while you two fucked each other's brain out, but Florence managed to get you so comfortable over time that you would allow her to do whatever she wanted with you.

You could still remember one of the first times you two had sex - a night when you had been a bit rougher than the times before that - and how Florence immediately demanded that you two talk about boundaries so you wouldn’t accidentally trigger each other in bed. You were lying on your back, hands behind your head and a smug grin on your face after making her scream out for the entire hotel to hear, and Florence was straddling your hips slowly grinding against you even after her own orgasm.

“What about color code?” She had asked with her husky voice and sexy accent.

“What about it?” You replied without having a clue what she was talking about because the way she was grinding against you was making your head spin.

Florence chuckled lowly, sending a shiver down your spine. “Red, yellow and green. So we can communicate more easily.”

“Why?” You frowned. “Can’t we just say stop and harder?”

“Because it’s sexy,” she had replied while leaning down, one hand brushing against your skin, up your abs, between your breasts, until her fingers closed around your throat and applied some pressure to make it a bit harder for you to breathe. “Color?” Florence asked in a whisper against your ear before her tongue darted out to lick a hot trail on your neck.

You gulped and your hips jerked trying to get more friction from her. Even so, you decided to be honest about it. “Yellow.”

“Why?” Florence wondered as her fingers lost strength around your throat and she leaned back to look at you.

You shrugged. “Not my thing, I suppose.”

She nodded then before lying on top of you again. This time, the other hand that had been serving as a support on the bed sneaked between your back and the mattress, going up until it reached the back of your head. There, she grabbed a handful of your hair and gave it a very gentle pull. So gentle you could only feel the pressure of her fingers holding your curls. “Color?” Florence asked again and you had to agree that it was a sexier way to discuss those types of things.

“That’s a very green situation,” you replied playfully. “Like, lime green situation.”

And then Florence chuckled against your ear and your hips picked up pace and the conversation ended up with both of you cumming all over each other. It had been one of the sexiest experiences in your life but it also proved to you that you could trust Florence and could trust being intimate with her. She respected you and you respected her, and, above all, you were friends.

That’s why you weren’t even a little ashamed of the almost pornographic moan that escaped your lips when, after you came for what felt like at least ten minutes, Florence rolled off you with a groan after putting her body to such extremes to bring you over the edge. She collapsed beside you in bed, even though you were lying right in the middle and hadn’t moved at all, and got rid of the toy and the sheets that were tangled on your legs. You were grateful for that because your body felt like it was on fire and even the thin sheet was making it worse.

“God, no one can make me cum as hard as you can,” you declared out of nowhere, making Florence snap her eyes back to you in surprise for a second before she chuckled. “I swear to God,” you insisted, even nodding a little before closing your eyes to try to get a hold of your breath.

“I'm flattered,” Florence replied in amusement as she leaned closer to give you a light bite on the shoulder.

You sighed and finally found enough strength to turn to your side so you could face her. There was a small gap between your bodies because you were still feeling too warm. “You should.” You smiled and wiggled your eyebrows. “I can't even feel my legs right now.”

It made Florence laugh again and, as she threw her head back, your eyes hungrily took on the column of her neck. “That's why you keep coming back for more,” she teased you and then reached out behind her to grab the water bottle she left there earlier that night.

You watched her for a moment - the gulp of water, her eyes dancing with mirth as she looked at you, her lips curling around the bottle - and accepted a sip of water when she offered you some. You handed her the bottle back already deciding to start talking. “You know… I was with someone else when you texted me yesterday.”

Florence didn’t look surprised or affected by the information, although her voice became a bit sarcastic when she spoke again. “Oh, no. Did I get you in trouble?”

You rolled your eyes at her fake concern. “No, not really. Well, I mean, a little bit,” you admitted with a grimace. “She got mad that I received a text from another girl but she promised it wasn’t because she was in love with me or anything. Something about feeling disposable.” You didn’t think you needed to tell Florence who you were with and you were sure she didn’t even care or wanted to know either, so you didn’t say it. Hailee’s secret would be safe.

“Friends with benefits does work a lot like that, yes,” Florence retorted with a knowing look, as if she knew all about what you were telling her. You wouldn’t be shocked to know that she went through something similar herself because, as far as you knew, you also weren’t Florence's first fuckbuddy.

She said nothing else after that, and neither did you for a while. Eventually, Florence closed her eyes as if she was about to go to sleep and you knew you had to say what you wanted before she started to snore beside you - you didn’t feel the same need to rush out of her bed like you did with everyone else.

“Flo?”

“Yeah?” She didn’t open her eyes or move from the comfortable position she was in - with one hand under her cheek and the other one resting on the mattress between you two.

You hesitated only for a second simply because you didn’t want to disturb the peace she seemed to have found. Even so, you needed to say it and Florence’s sleep would sadly have to wait a few more minutes. “Is there any chance this thing between us could ever be more?”

As expected, Florence’s eyes snapped open so fast that it was almost comical to watch it. “What?”

“Don’t freak out yet,” you told her, biting your lip to hold back a laugh that wanted to escape. “I'm not about to confess my undying love or something like that,” you promised her. “I was just wondering if there is even a small chance of us being more than just fuck buddies.”

Florence still looked too surprised to say anything more than some questions. “What brought this on?” She used one elbow to hold her body up to look at you.

“The girl from yesterday, actually. It got me thinking.” You shrugged and then mumbled: “Probably more than I should.” You sighed and rolled to your back to stare at the ceiling. “As cliche as it is, I’m not getting any younger. I'm older than you.” Even saying that made you cringe because you hated being reminded that you were older than those girls, that you most definitely were trying to be forever in your mid-twenties even though you had passed that already. “You’re still young and don't have to worry about those things yet, but I'm starting to think about having a serious relationship.” You turned your head to look at her and added: “Settle down,” as if she might not understand what you were trying to say.

Florence quirked one eyebrow. “And you think I'm the right person to do it with?”

Her reaction didn’t surprise you, of course. You two were friends who enjoyed sex with each other. Florence had never shown any extra interest in you other than that but, as you had realized the night before, she was the one person in your life who you could see maybe building up something more than casual sex with. That’s why you were having that conversation and you knew she would have her reservations about it since you just dropped the subject on her out of nowhere.

So, you tried to lighten up the mood with a smile and a little joke. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair with you, if I'm being honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“To tie you up with someone older when you’re still young enough to enjoy being single?” You gave her a playful stare. “What an asshole move.” To add some effect to your words, you rolled your eyes and scoffed to yourself before shrugging again. “But I'm a bit selfish, I guess.”

Florence watched you for a moment, still confused but starting to see what you were trying to say. “So why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I would like to know if this more serious thing I’m looking for could be found with you,” you confessed, never one to beat around the bush. “If so, we could give it a try.” You saw her opening her mouth to say something so you quickly kept talking. “I'm not saying we would immediately start dating and get married by the end of the year, but we would give it a try. It could work or it couldn’t.” That’s the only thing you wanted. To know if there was a chance for you two to at least try. Like you said, it might not work, but you knew that, if it didn’t, it wouldn’t affect your friendship. Florence might be younger than you but she was very mature and you would be able to handle it if things went south. “That’s how dating goes, you know?”

“And if not? We don’t have sex anymore?” Florence wondered and then dropped into bed again with a sad sigh. “That would be sad. Sex with you is pretty great.”

That made you laugh. “We don’t have to stop this. We can still fuck,” you told her. “I'm just telling you that I would start looking for someone else to build a relationship with. We can still fuck until I find that person.” That wasn’t exactly new. That’s exactly how every relationship works. You were allowed to have sex with whoever you wanted until you started something serious with someone. Most people wouldn’t let their friend with benefits know they were trying to find someone else to date but things were never traditional with Florence anyway.

“The girl from yesterday…?” The blonde wondered without finishing her phrase.

You quickly shook your head when you understood what she meant, though. “It wouldn’t work out like that between us. She knows it too.”

“And you think it would work with me?” Florence insisted and, this time, she sounded incredulous that you would think that.

“It could.” Again, you laughed. The look on her face was pretty priceless. You decided to turn on your side again so you two would be facing each other and playfully dragged your fingers on the mattress to poke her ribs. “You fuck me like nobody else, I trust you. Not everyone is allowed to fuck me on all fours, you know?” You joked, your nail scratching her skin. “Or pull my hair,” you added with a wink and then removed your hand from her body so you wouldn’t get too distracted. “We never tried to get further than that because we both agreed on the fuck buddies thing, but I think I could find many things about you to like. You're funny and extremely caring about everyone else. That’s enough for me to want to give it a try, if you want to.”

Florence hesitated long enough for you to know what her answer would be. It made you a little sad, of course, but you weren’t heartbroken by it. “And if I don’t, we’re not going to stop…”

“No.” You shook your head to put more emphasis on it.

And, to no one’s surprise, Florence sighed and said: “I'm sorry.”

You chuckled and reached out to squeeze her hand. “Don't be, Florence.”

“But I am,” she whined, intertwining her fingers with yours and bringing your joined hands to her chest. “I'm really sorry because you're a great person and I can see what you're saying about it possibly working out.” You tried not to think about the back of your fingers touching her boobs, though it was easier than expected because you just couldn’t look away from the sad look on her face. “But I'm not ready to have anything serious.”

“And that’s okay,” you said and meant every word. You wouldn’t hold it against her at all. You asked her a question and she answered it. Now you could move on. “You don’t have to do something you don’t feel ready to do. Especially something like this.”

“I'm sorry,” Florence repeated softly.

“Stop apologizing,” you chuckled again to let her know it was fine and she shouldn’t be feeling so guilty about it. “Thank you for being honest and saving both of us some time, okay?” To show her how grateful you were for that, you leaned in and brushed your lips against her collarbone before letting your teeth grasp against the soft skin there. “Now, I remember you saying something about more sex. My legs are still shaking but my mouth is working just fine.”

And that was it.

No hard feelings.

You saw Florence two more times after that before she left town to go shoot her new movie somewhere in Europe. You had sex at one of those times but you both had brunch with a few friends in common the other day and it was good to realize nothing had changed. You both promised to keep in touch after Florence went to the airport and talked about maybe seeing each other again in a few months when she was done shooting and you were done with your own job, and that was the end of it.

Sadly, it was the end quite literally.

Florence’s shooting delayed several weeks due to bad weather and, by the time she was back in the US, you had left to shoot a series in Australia. When you returned home, she was in the UK. When you went to Europe, she was doing a press tour in Japan. And so on. Your agendas were always clashing and you never stumbled over each other. You saw her briefly once when you attended the same award show almost a year after the last time you had sex but you had to catch a plane right after the award was over.

Even though you didn’t meet in person, you never stopped talking over texts and eventual calls when you had the time. Florence was still your friend and you enjoyed talking with her.

Life kept going on like that.

You called off most of your casual hookups with time but you tried to focus on your job more than your romantic life despite what you have decided about having a serious relationship. You wanted it, but you didn’t want to rush into anything out of desperation just to regret it later. Things would fall in place with time, you were certain of it.

Close to the two-year anniversary of the conversation you had with Florence, you received the news that a new Marvel movie was going to start being shot in a couple of months and most of the cast was going to be called back to do it. That meant you would work with her again but not only her. Many of your old friends would be there and you were very excited to live all of that with them again.

When the announcement was made, Scarlett reached out to ask all the women to a dinner party in her house and you obviously accepted it. Scarlett was a dear friend of yours and you would’ve agreed to meet her for dinner despite of the reason, although she added more reasons for you to say eyes when she said she was trying to get the girls back together before shooting. You saw some known faces in there and it was an amazing night. You all ate, talked, laughed and joked all night, and you had such a great time there that you had a permanent smile on your face when you walked out of the door by the end of it.

Brie was talking loudly while walking towards the cab that she had called to herself and Florence was standing beside you while you two watched her go in amusement. That was the first time in a long time that you two spent time together and you couldn’t deny that you had missed it. Florence made it easy to enjoy her presence.

After Brie was safely inside the car, you turned to walk to where you had parked since you all had already said your goodbyes, but Florence’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “Hey, would you like to grab a drink? We could go to my hotel, they have an excellent bar by the lobby.”

You smiled because, yes, you had hoped you two could catch up, but you had thought about asking Florence to go to a new restaurant with you the next day or something. You turned back to her and nodded. “I would love that, yes.”

That’s how you two ended up sitting at the bar stools laughing loudly without a care in the world. You had talked a lot during the dinner but you two found more things to talk about. It was easy to talk with Florence, it was easy to tell her silly stories and make fun of yourself because you knew she wouldn’t judge you for any of it. And you loved to hear her talk about her own life and her own adventures and everything that happened at the time you hadn’t seen each other.

You lost track of time and you were surprised when you glanced at your phone and saw it was almost two in the morning already. There was just one other table being occupied and two other clients on the stools by the counters but you could tell the people on the bar were praying everyone would leave soon so they could clean up and go home. You were just thinking about calling it a night and asking Florence to meet up again tomorrow when you felt her fingers brushing on the back of your hand timidly.

“So… Did you meet that person?”

You didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “I did, yes,” you admitted and then shrugged. “It didn’t work out but that's fine.” You had met someone who you thought might be the person for you but it all went downhill pretty quickly after five months together. “We’re still friends.”

She nodded slowly in understanding. “Anyone else now?”

You could see where this was going, even more so because the fingers on your hand were drawing little circles against your skin and because her eyes were glued to yours. You had been on the end of Florence’s flirting many times before to know she was trying to subtly say what she wanted that night. You didn’t mind. In fact, you were suddenly very excited about it. As said before, you had hoped, but didn’t expect it to happen.

“No,” you replied with a smirk as your other hand found a way to her thigh, barely covered by the dress she was wearing. She smiled back at you, eyes sparkling, and you felt your heart melt inside your chest a little. “I'm happy to see you again, Flo,” you confessed in an unusual emotional moment. “It's been a long time.”

Florence nodded eagerly and licked her lips all while slipping from the stool and tugging at your hand to do the same. “Way too long, yes.”

Hours later, you were both naked on the bed again, sheets kicked to the floor, bodies sweaty, short breaths, scratched backs. Even after so long, you two still had the same chemistry as before. It was still easy. Still amazing.

You were lying on your stomach, both arms beneath the pillow where your head was resting, eyes closed as you felt her fingertips brush against your back. The last time you checked, Florence was lying on your side looking at you but you were feeling too tired to open your eyes again to see if she moved. Besides, the air around you two felt like she was trying to gather up enough courage to start a conversation and you didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Whatever she wanted to say, it looked important.

You were starting to feel sleep creep in when you finally heard Florence sighing.

“The conversation we had a year ago.” Florence didn’t say more. She didn’t finish her sentence or start something else, and you just knew she had lost courage in the middle of her phrase.

You almost smiled. Instead, you decided to ask her: “What about it?”

You couldn’t see her but Florence bit her bottom lip and her eyes looked at you with something between concern and longing on them. “I wasn't ready then but… If you still think we could give it a try…”

You had hoped.

But you didn’t expect it.

You smiled, eyes still closed. “Aren't you going to ask me out on a date, Ms Pugh?”

“Would you say yes?”

“I don't know.” It was becoming harder to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape. “You didn’t ask yet.”

Florence chuckled and you finally cracked one eye open to see her nose scrunch in that adorable way it always did. Florence’s fingers never stopped drawing random patterns on your back. “Would you go on a date with me? Almost two years later because it took me some time to catch up with you.”

Something you would never blame her for, of course. Florence was still young then. She still is now but those two years had matured her a lot from what you could tell. Not to mention that things between us wouldn’t have worked back then. Not with the crazy schedule you both have. If she had said yes back then and you two tried to date, you wouldn’t have the time to actually be together. No relationship would ever work like that.

But now… Now she was older, she knew what she wanted and so did you, and you were about to slow down on your agendas for a while. It was the perfect time to try it.

“I would love to,” you finally answered and saw her muscles visibly relaxed. You closed your eye again, smiling and trying not to look so damn smug about it. “You pick the restaurant and I will wear something nice for you to take it off by the end of the night.”

Her husky laugh filled the room. “I like the sound of that.”

After saying that, Florence curled against your side and you both fell asleep soon after that.

[...]

“Hey, Y/N?” The mattress beside you moved when Florence turned around in your arms to look at your face and you almost screamed in frustration because you were just a second away from falling asleep.

“What?” You groaned.

“Are you awake?” Florence asked with a low tone.

“Who do you think answered you?” You retorted with a huff but were unable to not find it amusing.

“I wanted to thank you for giving me another chance,” Florence said after a brief pause. “I didn’t even deserve the first one you gave me. I was immature enough to be scared. I didn’t even give it a try.”

This time, you groaned louder because, no, you didn’t want to have that conversation at - you glanced at the clock on the nightstand - four in the morning. “Go to sleep, Florence,” you begged after resting your head back on the pillow and closing your eyes.

“I just wanted to say that,” she kept going. “And that I love you. Very much.”

Well, you couldn’t not reply to that. You sighed but smiled, and then pulled her ever closer to you so you could kiss her forehead. “I love you too, Florence,” you whispered against her skin. “But I will be asking for a divorce if you don’t let me sleep now.”

Florence chuckled. “That would be the fastest a marriage has ever ended,” she joked and her words made the weight of the ring on your finger intensify.

You still couldn’t believe you two got married a couple of hours ago after dating for over three years. It felt like a dream yet and you wondered how long it would take for you to get used to the cold metal around your finger. You would have to get used to it because you would wear it for the rest of your life, after all.

“Sorry, I think Britney would still beat us,” you responded jokingly. “No record for you.”

“Guess we need to remain married then.” She forced a sigh to pretend she was annoyed by it and you pinched her side.

“What a burden,” you agreed after she laughed. “To be married to the love of your life forever? Ugh.” You faked a gag and were rewarded with another chuckle. You could spend the rest of your life listening to it and, thankfully, you would.

Once she was done laughing, Florence snuggled even closer - if that was even possible - and sighed contently against your neck. “I love you.” She kissed your jaw. “Good night.”

“Night.”

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x you #celebrity x you #marvel #black widow #yelena belova #dune #princess irulan #oppenheimer #writing #creative writing #my writing #kate bishop #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfield x reader

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cleolinda · 4 months ago

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Medications I am taking for my current ordeal

Prednisone: Steroid. Reduces the inflammation of my herniated disc. Knocked out 99% of the pain. MVP. Mood elevation for a couple of weeks (wanted to deep clean the whole house), then it started to make me kind of mentally scattered and easily agitated. Spinal doctor discontinued it so I can have a Big Steroid in two weeks.

Tylenol: A good time. Helps pain a lot. Does more for me than actual opioids. Watch your liver.

Flexeril: Muscle relaxer. Will make you (me) groggy for days afterwards without actually doing much. Mostly made me not care that things hurt. Did keep me from deep-cleaning the house. It was that or a tranquilizer dart.

Meloxicam: Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory. Leg is a little fussy but 90% of the pain is at bay. Makes me loopy and kind of groggy but it’s only for two weeks. Acceptable.

Tizanidine: Muscle relaxer. No perceptible benefit, feels like being drunk, makes me post about politics. Discontinuing immediately.

#medications #me for some reason #health #tribulations #hello new followers! I blog about my health! welcome to hell!

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1arkspur-aconitum · 2 months ago

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HOW VERY UN-GREEK (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Spencer Reid meets Juniper Bishop, the new team member, on her first day at the BAU and finds it hard to focus.

PAIRING: Season 3 Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff

CONTENT: IQ slashed to 60, Derek being an idiot, equally genius character, teasing, 3rd person, and a good introduction to who Juniper Bishop is.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

PUBLISHED: 29/09/24

DR. SPENCER REID ARRIVED EARLY to work that morning and went through his usual routine. He’d cleaned his desk, poured himself a hot coffee with four teaspoons of sugar for added energy, and prepared himself as best he could for whatever the day had to throw at him. Murderers, arsonists, or just straight up creeps were standard for the BAU, and that was part of the reason why he loved the job so much. Nothing was consistent, but the methodology–the construction of the profile, the analytical processes–were always the same.

But, as he sat there at his desk, the only one in the middle of the bullpen, he wasn’t sure what today would provide. There had been no recent string of deaths in the news, no strange threats sent to local police departments, no rumours of wayward prisoners. The day looked as if it was set to be normal. Or, as normal as a day in the BAU.

Crossword spread out in front of him, Spencer Reid savoured his coffee as the early morning light spread across his desk. The bullpen was deserted, his only glimpse of other life the occasional figures flickering past the glass doors. Usually an empty bullpen was a blessing for him. No one would interrupt his thinking with stupid questions (Derek), pestering about his non-existent love life (Emily), or try to convince him to another BAU pasta evening (Dave). Typically, he liked the silence. Just him and his thoughts.

Today, though, something was different. He couldn’t concentrate. The building was too still. As if it was holding its breath. The anticipatory feeling soured the taste of his coffee, blurred the edges of his mind. Spencer didn’t like it one bit.

He looked up on instinct when the elevator dinged open. Spencer took pride in knowing his surroundings–in fact, Spencer took pride in knowing everything. He had seen a lot in his time, and could remember every single painstaking detail. He could remember the exact shade of green the taxi driver was wearing this morning, to the precise number of pancakes he ate on his first day in the BAU. He’d always thought of his memory as a benefit, the thing that makes him him.

It was only when she waltzed out of the lift did he decide he wasn’t sure about that anymore.

The first glimpse he got of her was all leather. Dark brown, it hugged her from ankle to throat. It covered her long legs, stretched tight over her ample thighs, and left very little to the imagination. Even from this distance, he could see that it wasn’t a single piece, but rather two–a long sleeve, high necked jacket, reinforced at the elbows and shoulders, paired with a slightly looser set of leather trousers, padded at the knees and thighs. It moved with her like a second skin, slightly scuffed and obviously well loved. Painstakingly maintained.

The second glimpse he got was gold. Not the gold of a dollar, but of copper. Red hair, cut to her collar, so fine that it caught the sunlight like thin strands of metal. As she strode from the maw of the lift, it drifted around her face as if she was walking through water. Spencer found himself wondering how soft it would feel between his fingers before he caught himself. No. She wore big, noise-cancelling headphones, the dark green a stark contrast to the copper of her hair.

Her skin was pale, spattered with freckles, face flushed as if she’d just run a marathon. She was all soft angles, wide eyes, full lips currently pursed. There was nothing harsh about her. Everything was smooth. Gentle. Sloped.

Spencer’s mouth dried as she shouldered the door to his bullpen open and stepped through. A cold breeze washed over him and brought with it the subtle scent of petrol. The strange woman hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy rummaging around in a large duffle bag hanging from her shoulder.

She struggled to pull a thick, manilla file from the confines of her bag, gloved fingers slipping over the material. The woman grumbled in annoyance and yanked one of the gloves off using her teeth, dropping it carelessly into her open bag. With a bare hand, she successfully extricated a sheet of paper–she still hadn’t noticed him. Part of him wondered if he should say something, announce his presence before he freaked her out, but another part of him was frozen to the spot. Like a deer that has just spotted a lion.

Then, as if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Her eyes, a startling shade of emerald green, locked onto his. She jumped.

‘Fuckin’ hell–’ She swore, clapping the bare hand to her chest and taking a shuddering breath. With her free hand, she slipped her headphones off and dropped them around her neck. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

She spoke with an accent he couldn’t quite place, but she definitely wasn’t from Virginia. No, it was clipped. Darker sounding. Spencer could only watch as she picked her way through the bullpen towards him–should he stand up? Should he say something? But, then what should he say?

‘I wasn’t expecting someone else to be here so early,’ she explained, coming to a stop next to his desk and offering him a smile that seemed to light up her whole face. ‘I was kinda hoping I could sneak in, get the lay of the land, before anyone else.’

‘Uh–’ Spencer Reid, the man with a vocabulary that could rival several dictionaries, some of them not even in English, was momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat and gestured lamely to his desk. ‘I’m Dr. Spencer Reid–I work here.’

‘I should hope so,’ she said, a flicker of amusement dancing behind her eyes. She lent back against the empty desk perpendicular to his, crossing her legs at the ankles. ‘If you didn’t, I’d have to call for security. And then question why the FBI has such lax security on its buildings in the first place.’

‘I…uh…’ God, he was being an idiot. All he had to do was string a couple of words together to make a sentence. That’s it. It was as simple as that, and it’s something he’d been doing his entire life. Why, then, when faced with this strange woman, did he find it practically impossible? His cheeks heated.

‘It’s alright, I won’t tell.’ She saved him from his misery by dumping the bag onto the empty desk. ‘I’m June. Juniper Bishop–they moved me up from Crisis Negotiation. I’m gonna be working with you guys for the foreseeable future.’

Juniperus communis–a coniferous tree or shrub, evergreen, that can grow up to 32 feet in height, and has been known to live for over 200 years. A hardy plant that thrives in chalkland, mostly found in Europe or the northern hemispheres–in traditional folklore, the juniper tree was used as a deterrent for witches or the Devil.

She was still looking at him. Expecting a reply.

‘What?’ The word came out strangled, forced, and he turned his head down to look at the crossword before him. He hadn’t heard anything about a new team-member. Spencer is 99% sure that Hotch would have told him if he was endorsing someone new to come join, especially so close to Gideon leaving. Though, Hotch and Morgan had been acting strangely these past few days.

‘Yeah, I’m kind of excited, actually. I’ve always found the BAU interesting.’ Juniper’s voice was light, airy, and Spencer found himself relaxing–just a little. He risked a glance up at her and was met with a megawatt smile. It was almost blinding. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you guys. I’m looking forward to working with you.’

‘Uh…sorry, no one told me anything about it.’ Spencer said, hating how weak the words sound. When he looked at her, though, all he saw was her utmost attention. It scared him a little, like he was a mouse under a car’s headlight. ‘I wasn’t expecting a new team member so soon after…’

‘Gideon requested me.’ She said, and those three words jarred through Spencer like a nail. Juniper stood up from the desk and began to shrug herself out of the leather. He had to look away. Not just to process the fact that Gideon–his Gideon–had requested someone be transferred without mentioning it to him, but also to avoid looking at her as she effectively stripped. ‘I worked with him on a couple of CNU cases, kind of told him how much I was interested in Behavioural Analysis. He introduced me to Hotch a couple weeks ago.’

‘Oh…’

‘I’m sorry.’ She said, and sounded genuine. There was a rustle, and Spencer looked over just in time to see her yanking her trousers off–thankfully, she was wearing dark green suit trousers underneath. She’d paired it with a pale pink long sleeve top that clung to her curves very distractingly. ‘I assumed everyone knew.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ Spencer said, averting his gaze yet again and staring down at his crossword. He could still feel her eyes on him and it made his skin prickle. ‘Uh, welcome to the team.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled, voice still light despite the sincerity behind it. She moved from behind the desk, and Spencer watched her approach from the corner of his eye. Juniper was still graceful despite the heavy boots, and he found himself mesmerised by the way she moved. It was like she was dancing, even when she was simply walking towards him. ‘So, what brings you here so early, Reid?’

‘Uh…’ he looked up to find her leaning on his desk, peering down at the crossword before him. ‘Nothing exciting. I just like to have the morning’s to myself.’

‘My apologies for interrupting, then.’

‘No–no, I mean…that’s…I just like to relax before everything gets crazy, you know?’

‘Ah, I understand. And you relax by doing crosswords?’

‘Well…yeah. How do you relax?’ He replied, a little harshly. It sounded as if she was teasing him and he didn’t like that. There was nothing weird about doing a crossword, was there? He’d never considered it something worthy of teasing before.

‘No, no, I respect it.’ She must’ve picked up on the discord behind his words as she shows him the palms of her hands. Juniper laughed, the sound a breath through windchimes. Spencer found himself smiling despite his momentary irritation. ‘I ride.’

‘Ride?’ Spencer echoed, frowning. ‘Ride what? Horses?’

‘Hah, I wish. I don’t know where I’d keep a horse in my flat, is the only problem.’ Flat. She called it a flat. British, then. It made sense, really–now that he’d sussed it out, it was nearly impossible to miss. Southern, probably, the picture of stereotypical received pronunciation. ‘I ride a motorbike, Reid. You know, two wheels, engine, leather and chrome?’

‘Oh.’ Spencer frowned. It should have been obvious, really, what with all the protective gear, but it still sat weirdly on him. ‘Did you know that the chance of fatality in a motorcycle crash is approximately 30 times higher than that of a car? And that if you were to get into an accident, you’d have about an 80% injury or death rate?’

‘Yes, but 34% of fatal accidents are because of speeding, and 27% involve alcohol of some kind.’ She retorted back instantly, but there was a bemused smile on her lips. ‘And whilst, yes, motorbike accidents are more dangerous, there are statistically fewer of them than car crashes per annum. On top of that, if the person is wearing a helmet that meets the governmental standards, their risk of death is reduced by 42%, and the risk of head injury by 69%.’

Spencer couldn’t do anything other than stare at her. His mouth was slack, slightly agape, as she rattled off a variety of statistics. The words fell from her lips like they’d always been there, and she spoke with an ease that hinted at an intelligence he hadn’t expected. She knew the numbers. She understood the numbers. She didn’t just spit them out–she knew what they meant, too.

‘So,’ Juniper said, pushing herself off of his desk to stand. ‘If I ride carefully, wear the correct gear, and don’t drink before I get on Maple, my risk of death is significantly reduced.’

‘But…but it’s not eliminated.’

‘You could say the same thing about a car. Or a plane. Or lifts.’ She said, angling her head as she looked down at him. Spencer wasn’t sure if he liked the fact that she was standing over him, but he definitely liked the broad smile she sent his way. ‘Plus, a little bit of danger is fun.’

‘Fun is subjective.’ Spencer pointed out, but he couldn’t stop the slight upturn of his lips. She was infectious in a way he wasn’t used to—confident, with an easy smile that she wasn’t afraid to send his way. ‘I think I’ll stick to my crosswords, thank you.’

‘Each to their own.’ She said with a shrug, moving back to her desk where she’d dumped her bag. Juniper began to rifle through it again, and it was only when she started to drop things into the drawers that Spencer realised this was her desk. Right next to him. She would be perpetually in his peripheral vision. Oh, God. ‘So…what do I call you? Dr. Reid? Agent? Spencer?’

‘Uh, Spencer is fine.’ He cleared his throat, tapping the tip of his pencil against the half-finished crossword.

‘Spencer, then.’ Juniper said, and he didn’t miss the way her lips curved around his name. It sounded different coming from her. There was a strange intimacy in the way she vocalised it, dark and alluring. ‘You can call me June, by the way. Or Bishop. Or Hops, if you like. Juniper sounds way too formal. It’s also what my mum calls me when she’s mad at me.’

‘Alright.’ He replied, turning in his swivel chair to face her. ‘June it is.’

She smiled in return, sparing him a brief glance as she continued to unpack her belongings. A small framed photograph of what Spencer assumed was her family was propped up by the computer. A couple of knicknacks–a small statue of the Moirai was placed next to a bust of David, the top of his head removed and filled with pens and pencils. A battered notebook covered in stickers. A partially solved Rubik’s cube. Another frame, this time holding a print of a bird he couldn’t see enough of to identify.

‘So,’ she finally spoke again, filling the silence. ‘When do the rest of the team arrive? I’m supposed to meet Agent Hotchner to sign some paperwork and stuff.’

‘Any moment now, actually.’ Spencer glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly nine. ‘They usually arrive around this time.’

‘Good.’ She said, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of the infamous BAU.’

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open and a few more members of the BAU spilled out and into the bullpen. Spencer watched as June straightened in her seat, a professional mask sliding over her face. Only the hands pulling at her fingers in her lap betrayed any sense of anxiety. Gone was the easy smile, the relaxed posture–instead, she was a picture of military precision. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if this is the June he would have met if he hadn’t accidentally scared her into ease. He frowned.

Derek was the first one to spot her. He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly to the point where Emily crashed into him. Luckily the brunette dodged aside. A coffee cup was forgotten halfway up to his lips. Spencer watched as his eyes raked over June, taking in the red hair, the tight top. He was practically drooling.

‘Well, hello, there.’ Derek said, voice smooth as silk as he approached. He deposited his coffee cup on his own desk opposite June’s and walked around to greet her. June rose too. ‘You must be Agent Bishop. Welcome to the team.’

‘Thank you–Derek Morgan, I presume?’ June said, taking Derek’s offered hand and giving it a quick shake. Was Spencer the only one not told about the new team member? ‘Do call me June, though, my last name seems a bit formal for a first meeting, don’t you think?’

‘June.’ Derek repeated, as if savouring the words. Spencer fixed his attention back to his crossword, but he found it nearly impossible to focus. Not when Derek was so obviously checking out the new team member. ‘Hope you’re ready for a wild ride.’

‘Those are the only kind of rides I go on.’ June countered quickly, but Spencer had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t Derek’s number one fan. Maybe it was all the ogling. ‘I’ve heard a lot about all of you.’

‘Good things, I hope.’ Emily said, having spotted what has attracted Derek’s attention. She offered June a friendly smile, and Spencer was pleased to see it returned. ‘It’s nice to have some new eyes.’

‘Thank you–Emily Prentiss?’

‘Please, just call me Emily.’

‘Only if you call me June.’ The two women shook hands, a silent agreement passing between them.

‘So, June.’ Derek perched himself on the edge of Juniper’s desk, still inspecting her with that undeniably profiler-y look. It was as if he was stripping her down to her base elements, and Spencer would not have liked to have been on the receiving end. ‘I see you’ve made yourself at home already.’

‘Was that not correct?’ June sat down in her seat and pushed herself away from the desk, putting a little bit of space between her and Derek. Spencer tried not to be too pleased that she was now closer to him. ‘I figured it would be easier to do it before you all arrived. Unfortunately for me, Dr. Reid was already here.’

‘He does that.’ Emily grinned, not unkindly at Spencer. He felt his cheeks flush, and busied himself staring down at the grid of white and black squares. ‘I can almost guarantee you that Reid will be here before any of us–are you sure you don’t sleep here, Spencer?’

‘I have an apartment.’ Spencer mumbled, not daring to look up. He could feel all three pairs of eyes watching him and he didn’t like it in the slightest. He knew he was blushing. It was a stupid question, and one he had been asked several times before, but it still embarrassed him. Especially in front of Juniper.

‘Doesn’t mean you don’t sleep here.’ Derek said, laughing. Spencer risked a look up to glare at him. He hated it when people made those kinds of assumptions about him. Just because he liked his job didn’t mean he didn’t have a life outside of it. He just hoped no one asked him for examples…

‘So, June, how did you end up being stuck with us?’ Emily said, thankfully changing the subject before Spencer could snap at Derek. She leant back on the divider separating hers and Spencer’s desk.

‘I was with Crisis Negotiation for a while,’ June replied, twisting idly in her chair. To anyone else, it looked like a casual gesture, but Spencer could tell what it was. A nervous tick, something to help calm her down. He knew it because he did it too. ‘I worked on a lot of cases with Agent Gideon. He and I talked about the BAU and I told him how much I respected the work and would be interested in giving it a go. He recommended me to Hotch, and now here I am.’

‘You’re Hotch’s new pet project, then.’ Derek said, and there was something in his voice that Spencer couldn’t quite identify. Spencer narrowed his eyes at his colleague over his coffee mug. Was it jealousy? Annoyance? Spencer didn’t have much time to dwell on it because June was laughing again, and the thoughts slipped out of his mind.

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ She said, shaking copper strands around her face. ‘But Agent Hotchner did seem very keen to have me on board. I suppose I have Agent Gideon to thank for that.’

‘It’s just Hotch you have to worry about now–don’t worry–’

‘Where’s your accent from?’ Derek interrupted before Emily could continue speaking, head angled to the side.

‘Where do you think?’ June replied, fixing Derek with a firm expression.

‘Southern England.’ Spencer answered for her, surprising himself a little. He hadn’t intended to speak, but once the words started he couldn’t stem the flow of them. ‘Clipped vowels, elongated and darker ‘a’ sounds–it’s received pronunciation, or the Queen’s English, so I’d say further south than London, maybe Chichester?’

June spun her chair towards him and fixed him with a curious gaze. It wasn’t intense, but she was definitely scrutinising him. She pulled her lips into her mouth and cocked her head.

‘Close. Very close.’ She said, sounding–and looking–impressed. She offered him a genuine smile and Spencer felt his chest warm. ‘Brighton, actually. Or, I suppose, Alfriston, seeing as you appear to be well versed in English geography.’

‘Brighton, huh? Like the rock?’ Derek said, leaning forward. Spencer wasn’t sure if he’d actually looked once away from Juniper since he’d first laid eyes on her. When he spoke next, he winked. ‘Perhaps you could show me around sometime?’

Spencer had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

‘Hah, I’m sure the internet has plenty of information,’ June replied cooly, crossing her legs and raising an eyebrow. ‘Besides, I doubt we could get enough time off from the FBI to hop back across the pond.’

‘She’s got you there, Derek.’ Emily chuckled, patting her colleague on his shoulder as he looked wounded.

‘Well, not with Hotch around.’ Derek grumbled, but he had the decency to look a little sheepish. June’s lips twitched. Spencer had the distinct feeling that she was enjoying this. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

‘Speaking of, here comes our fearless leader.’ Emily said, nodding towards the glass doors. Spencer followed her gesture and saw Hotch striding purposefully across the bullpen, trailed by a bemused Agent Rossi. Hotch didn’t look best pleased. ‘Someone’s in trouble.’

‘Let me guess, you forgot to fill out a form or something?’ June asked, turning to Spencer with a raised eyebrow.

‘Oh, no,’ Emily spoke for Spencer, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘Spencer doesn’t forget anything. It’s kind of his thing.’

June laughed and turned to Spencer. She had that same expression on as before, the one that seemed as if she was taking in every aspect of him and weighing it against…against what? A perceived idea of him? Suddenly Spencer became very aware of the fact that his tie was crooked and he’s pretty sure he spilt some toothpaste on it this morning. God, he wished someone had given him some warning that there would be a new team member starting today.

‘Good morning, everyone.’ Hotch said, pulling himself to a stop in the middle of their little congregation. He looked at each of them in turn, lingering on June. She was now standing, hands in front of her, her jaw a tense line. She was nervous, Spencer realised. ‘Ah, Agent Bishop. I was expecting you.’

‘Yes, sir–’

‘Call me Hotch.’ He interrupted, but there was no malice behind his words. If anything, Spencer could have sworn he saw a glimmer of amusement in his eye. How rare, for their Unit Chief. ‘I trust you’ve been settling in well.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ June shook Hotch’s hand firmly, before tucking it into her pocket. She turned her shoulders towards Spencer. ‘Dr. Reid here has been very accommodating.’

Spencer felt his cheeks heat up. He was suddenly very aware of how much attention she was paying him, and it was starting to get overwhelming. He didn’t like being observed, least of all by someone who looked like she did. His crossword puzzle became very interesting again.

‘Good.’ Hotch replied, punctuating the word with a decisive nod. When he spoke next, it was to the entire group. ‘Now, there are some forms I need you to sign, but unfortunately we have been called for a case, so we shall have to do that later. The briefing starts in ten minutes–get your coffee, breakfast, whatever, and gather in the conference room.’

With that, Hotch turned on his heel and walked away. He headed up the flight of stairs towards his office, and Spencer could see the telltale head of hair that marked Rossi as already being inside.

‘Well, that was fun.’ Derek said, pushing himself to stand and sighing. Spencer watched June turn to look at him, her eyes scrutinising his every movement. Something inside Spencer twanged like a string. Jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it. ‘Don’t worry, Agent Hot-Stuff, you’ll get used to it.’

‘It’s Doctor, actually.’

‘What?’ Derek said, and Spencer was inclined to agree.

‘Doctor. Not Agent. Agent seems a little…mundane, no?’ June grinned cheekily, starting to collect a couple of her things together before pushing them into the big duffle bag she’d abandoned by her feet.

‘Medical?’ Spencer found himself asking. He looked at her with a newfound respect–not that a doctorate forces him to respect someone, but it definitely gave him a little bit more confidence interacting with her. Some common ground for them to meet in the middle on. It pleased him more than he was willing to admit.

‘No, PhD.’ June replied, meandering over to peer down at his crossword. She glanced up to see Derek’s surprised face. ‘Besides, Doctor sounds cooler, don’t you think? I don’t fancy getting confused with every other Agent in this building.’

‘What’s it in?’ Derek asked, folding his arms across his chest. It was a defensive manoeuvre, but Spencer knew that it was also a move to highlight the curve of Derek’s biceps. He’d seen Derek do it plenty of times to women at the club with varying degrees of success.

‘Classical History with an emphasis on Ancient Texts.’ June said offhandedly, like it was something everyone does. Spencer was already thinking of different questions to ask her; Classical History was fascinating to him, let alone someone who specialised in the literature of the time–maybe he could ask her about the formation of the languages? The more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t actually comprehend what it was that degree entailed.

‘Well, Doctor Bishop,’ Derek said, grinning. Spencer didn’t like the way he practically purred her title. ‘Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two.’

‘I’m sure you know plenty, Agent Morgan,’ June replied, and Spencer tensed as her hand curled around the top of his chair. He wasn’t sure if she had noticed that her knuckles brushed his shoulder, but he leant forwards just the same. ‘Besides, I repeat my former statement–the internet is a magical place.’

‘Garcia is gonna love you.’ Emily cackled, grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him away from June before he could say whatever it was that was balanced on the tip of his tongue. Emily spoke the next words over her shoulder. ‘Come on, Derek, let’s get ourselves a coffee–do you want one, June?’

‘Sure. Caffeine is a lifesaver, after all.’ June laughed again and moved away from Spencer’s chair. She stopped after she’d walked a few steps. ‘Come on, Dr. Reid, your mug’s empty and you seem like the kind of guy who has a caffeine addiction.’

‘Did you know caffeine is the most commonly used psychoactive substance in the world?’ Spencer found himself saying as he scrambled to his feet, grabbing his coffee mug and nearly knocking it over in his haste. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on it.

‘Oh, that’s cool.’ She hummed, and started to keep pace with him as they headed after the now obviously whispering Derek and Emily. Juniper was taller than he’d first thought, nearly coming up to his chin, and she walked as if she had all the time in the world. Her hair caught in the light, turning it more gold than copper. ‘Oh, by the way? Your crossword? Clue nine down is Phanes.’

‘What?’ He blinked dumbly at her, pulling that mental image of his crossword before his eyes. Nine down; un-greek god of cosmic origin. ‘Phanes?’

‘Yeah. It fits, right?’ She turned to look at him slyly through the corner of her eye. It’s all Spencer can do to simply nod at her, using an arm to gesture her vaguely towards where Derek and Emily were busying helping themselves to coffee. ‘Besides, it is kind of my area of expertise, after all.’

‘Evidently...’ was all he could manage.

He watched her bob her head in a nod before speeding up and leaving him at the edge of the small kitchenette. She skirted purposefully around the small circular table Derek and Emily were surrounding. Spencer’s eyes tracked her as she opened the fridge, his feet leading him towards his colleagues without even thinking. How on Earth had she known he had been struggling with that one?

‘What’s up with you?’ Emily asked, dragging Spencer back down into the real world.

‘I think Pretty Boy has a crush.’ Derek’s voice was melodic with teasing.

Spencer glared at Derek as Emily snorted into her coffee cup. They’re being ridiculous, Spencer thought, but he tried his best to ignore that little voice in the back of his brain that reminded him it only takes one-tenth of a second to make a judgement on someone, and he’d definitely made a judgement about June. She was beautiful, that much was for certain, and way out of his league.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Spencer scoffed, but he couldn’t meet Derek’s eye. ‘She just helped me with the crossword, is all.’

‘So now you love her.’ Emily wheedled, nudging Spencer with her shoulder. Spencer made a pointed effort to look anywhere but at Emily or Juniper.

‘It’s alright if you do–she’s hot, man.’ Derek sounded too much like he was giving his approval for Spencer’s liking.

‘I…I hadn’t noticed.’

Derek scoffed a laugh. ‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

‘It doesn’t really matter what you believe, does it, Derek?’ Spencer snapped. He was definitely reaching the end of his tether with his colleague at this point. Sometimes Derek doesn’t know when to stop, and this was one of those times. ‘I’m going to make myself coffee.’

‘You do that, Pretty Boy, you do that.’ Derek clapped Spencer’s shoulder as he passed.

Spencer set about making himself coffee, hyper aware of where June was preoccupied doing the same thing not too far away. She took sugar and milk in her coffee, but perhaps she didn’t have as much of a coffee-sweet tooth as he did. On the counter next to her mug sat a large blueberry muffin. His mouth watered.

‘Oh my god, you guys!’ A familiar voice yanked Spencer out of wondering whether he should ask June if she knew where he could get a muffin like that. He turned to find Penelope Garcia jogging across the bullpen with her usual exuberance, her brightly coloured clothes in stark contrast to the white of the FBI walls. ‘There’s a new hottie in the bullpen! She’s got a British accent! And she’s a doctor! And she rides a motorcycle! I think I’m in love!’

June laughed as she stepped up to greet their technical analyst, shaking her hand gently. ‘You must be Penelope–I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘All good things, I hope!’ Penelope said, batting her eyelashes playfully. ‘You have no idea how long I have wanted another girl in the department–do you like cats? What about television, do you watch a lot of television? Oh, we should go to the movies sometime soon, there’s this thing that I have been wanting–’

‘Easy, easy, babygirl, take a breather,’ Derek laughed, wrapping an arm around Penelope’s shoulder. ‘June’s gonna be here for a while, you can ask her these questions soon.’

‘Okay, yes, alright,’ Penelope forced herself to take a few deep breaths. ‘This is just so exciting!’

‘I know, right?’ June said, matching Penelope’s hyperactive tone, and Spencer could tell that she was being genuine. She had that megawatt smile on again, and Spencer had the sneaking suspicion that she and Penelope would get on like a house on fire. ‘I’m excited to be here. We should definitely go see something at the cinema.’

‘Promise?’ Penelope said, pouting playfully.

‘Pinky promise.’ June proffered her pinky finger and Penelope squealed. She quickly wrapped her own pinky finger around June’s.

‘Spencer, why didn’t you tell me the new girl was awesome?’ Penelope turned an accusatory glare to him, and he suddenly felt scrutinised again.

‘I didn’t know myself until this morning,’ Spencer replied defensively, and the group of them began to head towards the conference room, all still deep in this conversation. ‘She kind of…well, she surprised me too.’

‘Well, I, for one, am very glad you’re here.’ Penelope said, hooking an arm through June’s and leading her ahead of the charge. Spencer was more than willing to fall in behind them, nursing his hot cup of coffee between two hands. ‘You’re a breath of fresh air in this testosterone-filled room.’

‘I’m glad to be your Febreeze, then.’ Spencer heard June say with a laugh, and it brought a small smile to his lips. As he followed behind them, he found his eye lingering on the way her hair brushed against the exposed skin at the back of her neck, the slope of her hips.

Alright, fine, maybe Derek was right. Maybe Spencer did have a little crush on her, but in his defence, it was hard not to. She was furiously smart and absolutely gorgeous. She smelt like leather, petrol, and coffee–a strange mix, but it was alluring nonetheless. Juniper Bishop was a whirlwind of a person, and unlike anyone he had ever met. He just hoped that he would be able to clear his mind of all of this confusing nonsense before the case started.

Spencer couldn’t afford to be distracted, but Juniper seemed to be tailor made to do just that.

God, this was going to be dangerous…

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY!

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