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unspeakable-imagination · 3 months ago

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Not just a One Night Stand || Logan Howlett

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18+ below the cut MDNI

Cw:takes place between origins and xmen 1, porn with little to no plot,nipple peircings, primal kinks, breeding kinks, choking and other breath play, probably a little blood his claws cound as knifeplay?, p in v, cunnilingus/(F receiving oral),he talks you through it🤌, use of alcohol and tabacco, cannon-typical violence, obviously curse words

First time writing smut, tell me how I did

Logan, or as the tags around his neck say, Wolverine, had been living without memories of his past for two years. All he had was a truck, a trailer, and a bike, all of which he won some way through the cage fighting that made him good money.

He knew what he was. He learned it rather quickly, in a world where mutants were cursed apon. That's why he didn't tell a single damn soul, and if they found out, he'd either leave the city or kill the problem that made him loose his patience in the first place.

That was one thing about Logan. He was shockingly patient. Unless it came to the dumb fucks constantly trying to take back the money they'd lost. This night was like any of the rest, fight, drink, find a girl and fuck, then start over again the next night. Or atleast it would have been.

He'd just finished his final cage fight of the night, and gripped the thick envelope filled to the seem with bills of all sorts. he thumbed through and took out some of the lesser bills, ones and fives, then stuffed the envelope inside of his inner coat pocket.

He strutted to the bar while he pulled a half smoked cigar and a basic lighter from his other pocket. By the time he was sitting, he was already twisting the cigar in the flame, lighting the edges to get an even burn. The bartender already knew his order, given that he was here the night before and was already sliding a glass filled with whiskey to the brim over the counter to his place setting.

Then, it happened as usual. Drink, smoke, and look around the bar. And then, like the pretty little thing that you were, you slid into the barstool next to him. "Hey there," you said. Your hair was pulled back into a half up half down style, and your neck was covered in glittering silver chains. Your ears had similarly matching jewley, dangling earrings that hung to your collarbones. You were wearing a tiny black dress with thin straps and stocking with a pair of pumps.

"Hey," he said, looking you up and down. "Ain't you pretty, doll?" He purred. You blinked, flitting your lashed at him.

"I'd sure hope so if it meant I caught your attention," you hummed. You motioned to the tender and asked for something simple, but logan didn't hear what it was. He was to focused on drinking you in, staring at you, noticing every little detail of your body that he could see. He almost had to stop himself from groaning when he noticed the special way that your dress perked around your nipples, the shape of peircings peeking through. You glanced over as you received your drink,

"Mind if i have a drag, please?" you hummed, raising your head and watching him carefully. You're eyes looked to his cigar and back up, your tounge darting out to lick your lips. You watched a cloud of smoke that was bearly falling from his lips suck back on when he took a deep breath.

"Here," he said, pulling the cigar from his lips to hand it to you. He watched your fingers, dainty as they were compared to his, gently pull it from his grasp. He watched as you brought it to your own mouth, taking a pull. He watched the embers glow and recede, he watched the way you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. He watched the way the vein on your neck throbbed to your heartbeat, and thought about how badly he wanted to bite it. He had to stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

"What are you thinking," you peered at the name on his dogtags," Wolverine?" He swallowed thickly and then he leaned in, closer to you.

"Logan. I think we should go talk somewhere eles," the way he said it was low, deep, and his voice rumbled like thunder.

"[Name]. And I think so, too, Logan." You nearly purred at the way he sounded and tiped back your drink, swallowing it whole as he did mostly the same. He helped you slide off your seat, plucking the cigar from your mouth as he did so and putting it back in his own. He stood and gripped you by your waist tightly, stepping with you towards the exit.

Shockingly, the moment you two were walking down the hallway of the hotel was rather controlled. Nobody was making out, slamming into walls, nobody was moaning. It was painstaking keeping your hands off of Logan.

Constant glances at eachother while murmuring sweet compliments about how pleasing one another looked, teasing words like "Oh I don't mind coming with you," and other phrases.

The moment you slipped into the room, words were no longer small whispers, and instead real, volume reasonably added.

Logan wasn't shy. He'd pulled the money to pay for the drinks in the room of the fridge, even adding a bit extra to get a smokers room. He didn't take his time grabbing a beer from the tiny fridge and slamming the necks against the counter to pop the caps off.

You had already relit the cigar that you were forced to put out in the lobby, leaning your torso out the window, your ass in perfect view. You looked so angelically sinful.

"The moon is so beautiful, tonight." Logan's eyes didn't leave you, and when you turned, he offered you a beer. You took it, pleased. "Thank you."

Logan looked out the window, seeing the full moon, and then back to your eyes. The lighting in the hotel was dim, but he was able to see your face.

"You're beautiful, too." He sat down on the edge of the bed and you footed towards him, slipping one leg at a time around his waist till you straddled him. He took a drink and you extanged the cigar back to him to take your own.

"You know the moon used to have a lover," you said. Logan cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah?" You nodded and hummed.

"Kuekuatsheu. Him and the moon lived in the spirit world and would dance together across the sky, every night." He leaned foward a little putting his elbows on your thighs then looked up at you.

"But there was another spirit, a trickster in love with the moon. He was jealous." You used your free hand to comb your fingers through his hair, over his ear. "So the trickster told Kuekuatsheu that the moon wanted flowers, and that he should come to earth to pick them for her."

"Never trust a guy named trickster," he uttered, kicking his lips. You giggled, lightly and gently.

"Well, people do stupid things sometimes. Kuekuatsheu didn't know that leaving the spirit world meant he could never go back. He's trapped, and every night, when he sees the moon he calls out to her. They can never touch eachother again" you frowned, drawing a line on his face.

"Well, Koo-koo-ka-Choo got screwed." You reached down to his dogtags and fiddled with them.

"Kuekuatsheu. It weans The Wolverine, like your tags." He watched her fingers fiddle with the thin sheets of metal. He put the cigar on the ashtray at the end table and gently grabbed your wrist.

You watched him carefully as he kissed right under your palm.

"You should be scared of me," he said, and kissed up your arm.

"I'm not, I know you won't hurt me in any way I don't want." Thoes words made him still.

"What do you mean?" He said. Another kiss to your elbow.

"I like it rough, Logan." He kissed your shoulder blade.

"I can't be anything but rough," he murmured against your shin. He moving his head to the dip of your breastbone. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what is it?" You brought your beer up to your mouth, taking another sip. He did the same.

"Not being able to stop," he admitted. He looked up at you again and swore the light framing your head from the window was really a halo.

"I can stop you if i wanted. I can take it, please, Logan." He tossed his head back, palming your thigh that was holding onto you. He swallowed, his mouth going dry.

"Say my name again," he put his drink on the nightstand and took yours, doing the same.

"Logan," you hummed, dipping your head down to his throat, gently nibbling at the flesh in the crook. He groaned and lifted you by your ass, putting your pack onto the bed.

"God you gave no fucking idea what's going on in my brain, baby. I could fucking destroy you," leaned ontop of you, supporting his weight on his elbows and knees. One knee was between your legs and he pushed it between your thighs.

"I could devour you right now." He kissed your collarbones, then up to your neck and bit you in a similar fashion how you did him. "I could ruin you the same way I'm about to ruin this dress."

You only hummed, your arms latching around his neck. What suddenly shocked you was the clean sound of metal, three claws extending from between his knuckles on one hand, right next you your face.

You felt your heart speed up and he kissed your cheek, then breathed in your ear. "Don't worry, you know I won't hurt you in a way you wouldn't like," and it sent a shiver down your spine. You almost moaned.

He sat up, bringing his claws to the neckline of your dress and pulling the down, slicing the dress in the respective places, small cat scratches underneath. The shallow cuts, like that from paper, beaded tiny drops of the crimson fluid every few inches. Nothing to heavy.

The cool air hitting your now hot skin made you whine, "Oh God's, logan," you watched, eyes open as he cut your stocking waistline elastic, and once slice above each thigh around the bands of your underwater.

"You don't need these anymore," he said. His claws retracted and he shrugged off his beater. You watched him lift the hem and when you saw skin, you latched your fingers onto it. You dug your fingers into his hips above his belt and jeans and tugged your bottom lip in your teeth. He slid off the bed, leaving your grasp.

You sat up to watch him get on his knees, looking at him with confusion. "What?"

"M' just gonna help these off, don't worry," he said, yanking at the destroyed fabric thag was still on you. Your heels fell off with your irrepreably damaged stocking and gasped at the cold hitting your heated core. He took a deep breath and growled. Literally growled.

He gripped above your knees and dug you to the edge of the bed, burring his face in the middle of your thigh and sunk his teeth into it, you head lolled back in a moan.

"I could just tear you to shreds," he said between bites as he traveled up your legs. He but you so hard, you'd sure you'd bruise in no time.

"Please, Lo," you hummed squirming and opening your knees a little further.

"Come on, baby. Beg for me more." You began to open your mouth, prepared you beg, to scream for him to touch you, but you never got the chance. He dug his teeth into your thigh where it meets your hip and you moaned your back arching and pushing your considerably soaked cunt into his chin.

"Fuck," he hissed, grabbing your hips and pushing them back down. "Stay, be good."

"Please, please, Logan, I need you to touch me," you preened. "Please I need you to touch me,"

"There you go," he hummed and used his hands to open your knees for more than just his head. He adjusted his shoulders between your knees before he lifted one leg above and onto his shoulder.

"Oh," you gasped as he nosed his fave into your country, taking a deep breath. He licked a stripe upwards between your folds and you swore you felt your hips jut, just a tad, and you breathed out a shaky sigh.

"Don't go quiet on me now, baby girl. I got you," he nuzzled his face in deeper. Lolling his mouth open, he did just what he said he'd do, devouring you. He sucked your clit into him mouth and your hand flew into his hair at you moaned, sure it would shake the paper walls of the place.

You grappled and tugged his hair, while also trying to shove his face deeper between your legs. He groaned into your folds, vibrating your whole being, which only made you whine more and forget to swallow. The sensation of his mouth sucked around you made you nearly cry when he prodded a finger into you, not even realizing one of his hands left your leg.

He ate you like a starved man, "Lo, i," you panted. It was hard to think, or even speak,

"You what?" He pulled away for only a second but you shaved his fave back down.

"Don' stop, please. M' so close," you nearly cried. He only laughed into your body and added another finger, his lips placing themselves wrapped around your core again. You felt ever fiver in your being tense and began you hurriedly day pleases like a prayer over and over, wrapping your calf around his neck to dig him in further and practically ride his face.

All it took for that rope to snap was his teeth lightly grazing over your clit and you fell off your elbow that kept you propped, your head flung back into a moan. He didn't stop, though. He lapped up whatever juices fell from your hole and grumbled, almost feraly. You shook beneath him and wiggled, until he slurped up ever drop of arousal and release that was left in you before he pulled his face away.

His chin and parts of his chops glistened with what parts of you he couldn't consume and he gave you a toothy, mischievous smile. "Oh baby, I'm hardly done with you."

You panted, still trying to catch your breath, but your hand in his hair hand long went slack, snaking up your hips to grope yourself.

He stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand, up half his arm and then reahed down to undo his belt the metal clanging, then his zipper, hill his pants fell to his feet. You hadn't even noticed he stepped out of them.

He grabbed you, pushing you further up the bed till he settled on his knees, cock standing proud. Your droopy-lidded eyes widening at the sheer girth.

"Don't worry, baby it will fit, I'll make it" then he grabbed you by your legs pressing them over his shoulders and locking you into a mating press. He ran a thumb over your clit. Then spit into his palm, pumping himself.

"I can't wait, please lo," your eyes locked onto his and your lips parted. He grabbed you by your jaw and tilted his head.

"Open thoes pretty lips more," he demanded and you obliged. He spit into you mouth and then shut it for you, massaging your throat as he whispered for you to swallow. When you did, you opened your mouth, all pretty and he broke. "Fuck it."

He pumped himself a few more times, quickly before grabbing your hips the the point that they dimpled and turned white, sure to bruise, and shoved you onto him, hilted in just a moment. His head lolled back his mouth flew Open in the most feral, gut churning groan, or maybe it was your organs readjusting. You were to busy moaning, writhing and shivering underneath him. "Good girl, that's my girl."

He laid one arm next to your ribs to keep balance and the other one grabbed the bearly breathing cigar. He took a drag, slowly beginning to pump his hips. The tiny, almost exhausted embers in the cigar burned back to life and began to blossom the heat through the bud. He left the cigar in his lips and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly while you were in a trance, softl, gummed moans leaving your blissed face with every thrust. He lifted your head slightly and blew the smoke in your face, letting you breath in the smoke, then squeezed again, and let go. He grabbed the cigar and dropped his head to your neck, bending his supporting elbow. You choked at the way he went impossibly deeper, but he didn't care.

"You got this, baby," he whispered in your ear. He latched his lips onto your vein and began sucking splotches, coloring your neck in reds and purples, occasionally stopping to suck down another portion if cigar. He moved and pressed his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into your mouth, which you greedily accepted.

He put the cigar back down, sat up, and used one hand to lube his fingers with some of your juices before playing with your clit again, watching you but at the overstimulating feeling. "I got you, hey, it's okay," he muttered. His other hand locked around your throat once more and he used it to pull you up and down on his cock, effectively making you ride him from the bottom

You whined and pleaded, asking him for more, that you were going to come again. He responded with a squeeze. "Then come on me, baby, all over."

Your hands found his thighs and you dug your nails into his legs, trying to ground yourself, " Yes, yes," you chanted. He watched the drool fall down tour cheek and grinned.

Your hips stuttered and your legs jerked, but the hand from your troat flew to one of your knees to hold you in place. "lo, lo, i," your face scrunched and his hand on your core stilled the same way his hips did as he felt your pussy clench onto him. He felt his thighs grow wet as fluid gushed from where you met, and he leaned back and watched.

"Good, baby. What a good girl," he hummed, pulling himself from you. You winced at the feeling of emptiness, but laid there, eye closed as you tried to recover. You listened as he stoked himself, listened to him groan, and opened your eyes just in time to watch him ejaculate all over your stomach. His warm, thick sperm painted your abdomen and even reached your ribs and then he backed up, putting your legs down gently on the bed.

"Just wait right there, don't move, okay?" He took your humming as a good response and scooted off the bed, walking to the bathroom. You listened to the faucet run and listened to him shuffle around. You heard the faucet shut off, and he appeared from the doorway with a washcloth, damp and warm. He came to the edge of the bed and knelt down, gently wiping your thighs and your mound, moving down to gently dap at your folds before he brought it up to wipe the cum from your stomach.

"You did so well," he said careful to avoid the scabbed slices from earlier. When he finished cleaning you, he climbed back onto the bed and fell to your side.

"Stay with me, [Name]. More than just tonight." You curled into his arms and he pulled the blanket over the both of you.

"Okay, Logan."

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kissitbttr · 9 months ago

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mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader

a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!

toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.

he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.

as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.

a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.

it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.

he has no time for patience nor pity.

toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,

tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,

he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,

he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,

however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,

stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,

“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,

gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,

“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”

toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.

gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”

toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”

another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.

no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,

toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,

“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”

“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,

humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,

“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,

toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”

“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”

it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.

he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.

clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.

one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.

as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.

fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.

speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,

he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.

toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.

“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”

mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,

he is definitely going to kill him,

“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”

alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“

toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,

“i just need more time—“

“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice

“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,

toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”

alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”

once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.

toji isn’t a fool. never was.

he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’

toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”

alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.

“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“

toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,

he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.

a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.

her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,

but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.

toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.

a damn fucking beauty she is.

“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.

he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,

‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself

“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,

“that’s her real name?”

“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,

so she’s new?

“some calls her birthday cake”

that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.

oh that’s why

“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.

“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”

“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,

toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.

gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”

he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”

“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”

indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.

there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?

she fights back. just how he likes his women.

“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”

he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,

“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,

“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments

a foul mouth indeed toji thinks

alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”

toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,

“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”

she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.

first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.

is this man even a man?

as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”

“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.

“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor

the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.

he doesn’t even want to know.

“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.

one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.

toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,

if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,

“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,

he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,

“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,

“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''

“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”

“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”

he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.

and now there’s just two.

“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,

she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”

toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.

she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.

he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.

“show me what you got then gorgeous”

angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.

“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”

she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”

toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.

“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”

his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.

“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”

he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”

damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”

he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”

her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”

“nosy, huh?”

she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“

“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone

“what was that?”

“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”

she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.

toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,

it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.

“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”

he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”

“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”

with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”

it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,

“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”

“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”

“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”

she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”

he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,

“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,

he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”

“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,

toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,

she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.

there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.

“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.

“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.

though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,

her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”

toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.

he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,

angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.

so, so worth it.

“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”

“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.

she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”

she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.

he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,

she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.

his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.

“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.

“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,

“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,

“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.

“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”

she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“

“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,

she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”

“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,

“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”

she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.

“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”

he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.

“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”

she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,

“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”

toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,

a good one.

“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,

“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,

he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.

but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?

that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.

and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.

yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.

angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,

she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client

#mafia!toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro blurbs #toji fushiguro smut #jjk

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fiber-optic-alligator · 8 months ago

Text

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

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whiteferraristurns · 25 days ago

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𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ⚠︎︎ none. no use y/n. fluff

Bri ༯ rapper chris!!👅

reblogs, likes and comments are heavily appreciated ᥫ᭡

Late Night in the Studio

The hum of the city faded into the background as you entered the studio, a small black bag clutched in your hand. The dim, moody lights cast a soft glow over the walls lined with platinum records, awards, and Chris's signature graffiti art—raw, messy, undeniably his. The faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla drifted from the candles flickering on the windowsill, the only soft contrast to the electric energy in the room. The space felt familiar, yet every time you entered, the charged energy made you feel like you were stepping into another world.

It was late—later than you would have preferred to be out on a Thursday night—but Chris had insisted, and you couldn’t deny the pull his voice held over you. You were used to the chaos that came with his life, the late-night calls and the constant tug-of-war between your schedules. But something about tonight felt different.

You leaned against the doorway watching how the pink lights lit up his features perfectly. “You look like you’re thinking hard over there,” Chris turned, adjusting his headphones before pulling them down to hang around his neck. He shot you that lazy grin that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

“Just wondering why you’ve got me out here at midnight,” you teased, your lips pulling up into a smile. “Don’t you ever sleep?” Chris shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets with that lazy, too-cool look he always wore. “Can’t sleep when I’ve got inspiration running through me. You should know that by now.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a seat on the leather couch that stretched against the wall. It was worn and cracked, but you’d spent enough time here that it almost felt like home. “So I’m here to be your muse?” You arched an eyebrow, teasing, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the warmth his words brought.

Chris didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers ran over the soundboard, tweaking a few settings as he let the beat play softly in the background. He shot you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes dark and serious. “Actually, yeah. This one’s got your name all over it.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. Your heart skipped, but you tried to play it cool, tilting your head with a small smile. “You really expect me to believe you wrote a whole song about me?”

He nodded, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s wouldn't be the first one”

Your mouth went dry. You knew he poured his life into his music, but the idea that he’d written about you was something else. You glanced away, biting your lip to hide the mix of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, leaning against the soundboard as he met your gaze. “Just… listen.” Chris hit play, and the room filled with a steady, soulful beat, layered with smooth guitar riffs that softened the intensity of the bassline. Then his voice cut through, raw and honest, each line hitting like a confession.

“She’s the pulse that keeps me steady, when the world’s too loud to bear. She’s the reason why I’m breathing, even when there’s smoke in the air.”

The lyrics rolled over you, each word hitting deeper than you’d expected. You breath caught as you heard the pain, the longing, the way he seemed to reach for you through every line. It wasn’t just a song. It was a part of him—a part of your bond. You listened, your hand messing the necklace he had gotten you for your birthday. As his voice continued, weaving a story of nights you’d spent together, of whispered words in dim rooms, of a connection that neither of you knew how to define.

“She’s the storm that keeps me grounded, the spark behind every verse,” he rapped, his voice deep and resonant, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “When I’m lost in this world, she pulls me down to earth.”

The track finally faded into silence, you blinked, realizing your eyes were damp. You hadn’t even noticed the tears pooling, too wrapped up in the emotion of it all.

“Chris…” you started, but words failed you. How could you tell him that you felt it too, that every time he left for another city or hit the stage, you were there with him, a part of your heart stitched into every lyric?

He crossed the room, sitting beside you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. The air between you both was thick with things unsaid, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“It’s not easy, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Balancing all this. Sometimes, I don’t know how much longer I can keep pulling you into this world.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You’d always known that dating Chris meant sacrifice, meant that your time was often borrowed and fleeting. But the thought of letting him go was harder than you wanted to admit.

“You’re not pulling me anywhere, Chris,” you whispered back, your hand reaching out to brush his. “I’m here because I want to be.”

For a moment, he looked away, his jaw tight. You knew that look—he wore it when he was fighting back something deeper, something vulnerable. You reached out, your hand resting on his, grounding him. Slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers threading through yours.

“What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. “What if… I’m too much?”

You shook her head, squeezing his hand. “You could never be too much, Chris. You’re just… everything.”

Your words hung in the air, soft and steady, the truth of them lingering between you. And in that moment, you felt like you were finally laying your cards on the table, every piece of your heart exposed. You leaned forward, closing the gap between you two, your lips brushing his in a gentle, tender kiss that held everything you couldn’t put into words.

When you pulled away, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you stayed like that, just breathing, just existing in the same space.

“I don’t know where this is going,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “but I want to figure it out with you.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in her heart. “We’ll figure it out, one verse at a time.”

And as you sat together in the dim studio, surrounded by his music, you knew that whatever happened, you’d face it together—through the highs, the lows, and everything in between. Because no matter what, you had each other, and that was enough.

Bri ༯ short n’ sweet. please tell how this was I lowk hate it😭

more fic’s will be out soon I just thought I’d post this one now since it’s been sitting in my drafts since the day after the video

T͙A͙G͙L͙I͙S͙T͙ ᡣ𐭩

@sturniqloo @iillovechris @themotherofmattschildren @chrislilcumslvt @ghostlyplug @mattsfavginger @chrissturnioloenthusiastforlife @ncm9696 @starfuckoff @heartz4matt

#movieshots🎬#✩rapper!chris彡 #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #Chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fandom #sturniolo triplets fluff #sturniolo oneshots

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

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Summer Heat | S.R

Summary - By orders or the director, the BAU must undertake a team building hike in the woods. You and Spencer have never gotten along and not even the summer heat seems to be able thaw the ice that exists between you. But then you get yourselves lost and while waiting for rescue, you have to find a way to pass the time…

A/N - set somewhere in the realms of s15. This is my second entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - enemies to lovers, Spencer’s awkward info dumping about hiking related deaths, swearing, public urination, talks of bladder control techniques, treating wounds, Spencer is touch starved, mentions of prison and Cat Adams and Max, Spencer and reader are oblivious idiots, make outs, handjob, fingering, public sexual acts, interruptions.

WC - 8.9k

The potency of the early afternoon Virginia sun infiltrating the towering thicket of loblolly pines caressed your skin, peppering its honeyed kisses across your flesh.

The warm earthy scents combined with the aromas of moss and the sharp, almost sweet notes of the pine trees engulfed you in a blanket of mother earth's creation.

You hummed to yourself as you trekked up a grassy incline barely registering the weight of your oversized pack on your back. You were no stranger to hiking or the heat and you were barely phased by it.

Unlike some people.

Doctor Spencer Reid was equipped for neither physical activity or the weather, despite the fact he grew up in desert climates. You could hear him huffing and puffing behind you as he struggled up even the smallest of hills.

You reached the brow and turned back to him with your hands on your hips. His face was flushed red from a combination of the sun and exertion. His hair stuck to his sweaty brow and his chest heaved with his breaths.

When he reached you, he doubled over, hands on his knees and he fought to catch his breath. You rolled your eyes and waited somewhat impatiently for him to stand again.

“Are you really this out of shape?” You scoffed.

He glanced up through a curtain of hair, puffing uneven breaths out between parted lips.

“Clearly.” He bit back.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you didn’t exactly see eye to eye. You’d been with the team for almost a year now, but you and Spencer had never been close.

You’d gotten off on the wrong foot on your very first case. He’d spent almost all day on the phone to someone talking about his mother and you’d made a flippant comment about him being a mama's boy.

This led Spencer to launch into a rant about how his mother suffered from schizophrenia and altzeimers and how he was talking to her doctor because she was struggling to adjust to the new home he’d put her in DC.

He didn’t stop there. He continued to inform that she had been moved to DC because she wasn’t responding well to medication or her living facility in Vegas. He detailed how he’d moved her to the east coast and then gotten arrested in Mexico whilst trying to procure some experimental medicine.

He was seething by the time he told you that the same woman who’d gotten him arrested then had his mother kidnapped and almost killed.

He wasn’t as standoffish towards you as he used to be, his iciness thawing somewhat over time. But you were never going to be his favourite person. And as a result, he wasn’t yours either.

He forced himself to stand up straight, grabbing his canteen from where it was hanging from the strap of his backpack and taking a hefty sip before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“It’s just a little hike. It’s not like you’re running a marathon or anything.” You clucked. “Can we continue now?”

“Just a little hike?” He groaned but started walking nonetheless. “It’s ten miles! And I have to do it with you.”

“Oh you poor, unfortunate soul.” You rolled your eyes as you fell in step with him.

The hike had been an idea which was floated down from the director. A team building exercise it had been dubbed. Although it wasn’t strictly mandatory it would look bad on those who didn’t participate.

So the BAU was spending a rare weekend off on a ten mile hike through the Shenandoah National Park followed by spending the night camping at the valley’s campground.

The Shenandoah National Park was more than five hundred miles of hiking trails extending along the Blue Ridge Mountains which included a section of long distance Appalachian Trail.

As someone who relished in the outdoors you’d always wanted the chance to visit Shenandoah but had never had the opportunity. And if you were paired up with anyone other than Spencer you might have been able to enjoy yourself.

Garcia had everyone draw straws in order to team up for the hike before you would all meet up later at the campground. You’d quite literally drawn the short straw with Spencer whilst Penelope was paired with Matt, Luke with JJ whilst Tara, Emily and Rossi made a group of three.

Spencer was the least athletic of the BAU members, the least outdoorsy, and so far had not stopped complaining.

You regarded your GPS as you walked to ensure you were headed in the right direction and the two of you fell back into silence.

Spencer breathed heavily even when the trail was flat, groaning a little every time you came to another incline.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. It was a strange sight to behold, an academic who was far more comfortable indoors trekking through the woods like this. But what was even weirder was his outfit.

You’d never seen Spencer out of a shirt and slacks but he’d tried to at least look the part of a hiker today. He wore a thin black t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts which showed off his surprisingly toned legs. You didn’t even think he would own such an item of clothing.

He’d tried to look the part, probably only taking into account the heat and not the fact that he was leaving his legs exposed to bug bites and poison ivy. You wouldn’t be the one to tell him that though.

He’d ditched his satchel in lieu of a backpack but still had his trusty converse on with obligatory mismatched socks. You’d told him converse would be hard to hike in, their thin soles alone not conducive to walking on the forest floor.

Judging by the way he grimaced with nearly every step, he was starting to wish he’d listened to you.

You continued to walk in silence, watching the way Spencer’s wary eyes cast around through the thick tree trunks, ears pricking at every tiny sound.

“If you didn’t need to stop and catch your breath every five minutes we’d be back by now.” You couldn’t hold your tongue.

Spencer’s head turned towards you, brows furrowed.

“If we hadn’t taken such a hilly trail I wouldn’t need to keep stopping every five minutes. Did you know hikers use twenty eight percent more energy when traversing uneven terrain as opposed to flatter land?” He grabbed his canteen again and took another sip.

“Don’t come crying to me when you’ve run out of water.” You ignored his statistical rambling, increasing your gait a little.

“I won’t run out of water. I’ve calculated exactly how much I can afford to drink per hour when approximating how long it will take to walk ten miles.” He told you smugly.

“Of course you have.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace a little more.

“I can’t believe the bureau is making us do this. Do they not realise that hiking related deaths have been on the rise? They’ve increased as much as twenty one percent in recent years.” He grumbled as he tried to match your pace.

“Oh please, do tell me more.” You huffed and clearly Spencer either didn’t sense your sarcasm or he chose to ignore it because he did tell you more.

“Fifty percent of all hiking related deaths are caused by a fall or drowning. Men make up seventy two percent of those victims.” He pulled a face, focusing on the ground beneath him now he’d drawn his own attention to that fact.

“Well you for one are particularly clumsy.” You replied, your tone one of boredom.

“The other fifty percent are due to medical conditions such as heart attacks while engaging in physical activity.”

“What kind of physical activity?” You smirked suggestively, nudging him in his arm.

Spencer shook his head as your childish insinuation.

“Oh grow up, Y/L/N.” He spat.

“I’m just saying if there is a man out there so good in bed he can induce a heart attack, I wanna meet him.” You chuckled, seeing him roll his eyes in your peripheral vision.

“And I’m saying, hiking is inherently dangerous.”

“We chase serial killers for a living.” You huffed, checking your navigational device again.

“Which I am well versed in due to years of hands-on experience. I am not educated in outdoor pursuits.” He scoffed.

“You seem to know a lot about hiking related deaths.” You cast your gaze upwards towards the sun peaking between the high trees.

You could hear faint rhythmic buzzing from insects nearby, distance scuffling through the underbrush. Every now and again you picked up on various bird songs as they chirped from the high branches.

It made a smile blossom on your features, being one with nature, the summer air cleansing your lungs. The sounds and the smells were a comfort to you, taking you back to childhood memories camping and trekking through forests just like this with your family and fond recollections of years spent at summer camps.

Summer was without a doubt your favourite season. It elicited waves of nostalgia, taking you back to years spent at camp lake edges, eating ice cream hurriedly before it melted, giving you brain freeze.

It evoked images of burning campfires, the smell of the wood as it smouldered and the marshmallows roasting ready to be made into s’mores. Dulcet tones of an acoustic guitar played under the moonlight by Andy Duncan, your camp crush.

And later when he’d walked you back to your cabin and bestowed upon you your first ever kiss. Summer held some of your best memories and kindled your sentimental side.

You toyed with the GPS device in your hand as you walked, twigs and leaves crunching under foot. You didn’t realise Spencer was staring at you.

“You okay?” He spoke up, snapping you out of your reminiscing.

“Huh?” You glanced at him sideways.

Spencer had a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at you, something you’d never seen on him before, not directed towards you anyway.

“You look awfully wistful.” He shrugged.

“I just love summer I guess.” You mirrored his action.

“That makes sense.” Spencer turned away and looked back at the ground so he could avoid any potential trip hazards.

“What does that mean?” You swatted at a bug that landed on your arm.

“It means I’m not surprised you like summer, arguably the worst season.” He clucked.

“The worst? Oh please. Let me guess Doc, you’re a fan of gloomy winter? That would make sense.”

“Winter isn’t gloomy. Winter is oversized sweaters and hot cocoa by a fireplace. Huddled under blankets, the holidays. Sometimes even snow.” He told you as if you’d never heard of winter before. “But it’s not my favourite season. My favourite season is fall.”

“Hmm, dark and moody tones, nature dying. That tracks.” You spoke in a clipped tone.

“It’s not dying, it’s the start of rebirth. Shedding one layer so it can grow into something more than it ever thought it could be. It’s hauntingly beautiful really. And autumnal tones are stunning, all those earthy hues and streets littered in leaves. It makes me think of cinnamon and old books. Reading in the park with my mom when she was lucid and watching the leaves fall from the trees all around us.” It was Spencer’s turn to grow wistful.

You noticed his eyes glaze over slightly, his lip quirking up at the corner as he got lost in a fond childhood memory.

Spencer never talked to you about his youth or his mother after your initial falling out. He’d never been so candid with you before. As if he realised this, he shook his head, snapping himself out of his own revere.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to share all that.” He grumbled, grabbing his canteen and sipping the water just for something to do.

“I don’t mind.”

“Well I do.” He spat, slowing a little as the two of you neared another slight slope. “You’re the last person I want to talk to about my mother.”

You slowed with him until you both stopped. You folded your arms across your chest and glared at him.

“Reid, come on. It’s been a long time. I’ve apologised for calling you a mama’s boy multiple times. How could I have possibly known about your mother?” You shook your head.

Spencer’s jaw tightened, the muscle in the side of his face pulsing as he stared at you. You could all but see the cogs turning in his head as he fashioned a response.

“I don’t want your apologies, Y/L/N.” He huffed out.

He suddenly started walking again, ignoring how much his legs ached as he started up the small slope. You watched him go for a moment or two, feeling awash with anger.

You’d been looking forward to this hike, to an excuse to spend the weekend outdoors in the sun. You were not going to let Doctor Spencer Reid ruin that for you.

***

You carried on walking for another hour or so and not another word was spoken between you. It was tense and awkward and the sun was getting lower in the sky.

It wouldn’t be at all long before it started getting dark and you were growing a little concerned that you might not make it back before the sunset.

Spencer was clearly thinking the same as his brows had been furrowed for at least the past ten minutes and he was furiously chewing on his lip.

You halted in your tracks and pulled the GPS device back out. You stared down at it with a heavy frown, feeling the heat radiating off of Spencer as he drew closer to you. He peered at the GPS over your shoulder with a scrunched brow similar to your own.

“That says we’re only a few hundred yards from the camp. We should be able to see it.” Spencer looked up but all he saw was trees.

He turned a complete three hundred and sixty degrees but was met by trees as far as the eye could see.

“I think…I think it’s busted.” You groaned deeply, the sound reverberating out into the forest.

“No? No!” Spencer snatched it from your hand and shook it as if that would help matters. “Call someone! It’s going to get dark soon!”

You did not miss the blatant panic in his voice and if you didn’t feel the same you might have made a jab at him for it.

You reached for your phone in your pants pocket and unlocked the screen but groaned as soon as you did so.

“Fuck, I have no signal.”

“What?” Spencer scrabbled for his own device and huffed seeing he had no bars either. “We’re stuck out here?”

“Uh,” you glanced around. “Yes?”

“No, no. I am not dying out in the woods with you.” His tone was even more fraught.

“Trust me, you are not my first choice of death partner either.” You scoffed.

“If we’re out here long enough we could dehydrate! Or get hypothermia! I told you fifty percent of hiking related deaths are caused by medical conditions.” He was spiralling.

“How many hiking related deaths are caused by homicide?” You shot him an unamused look.

“Eighteen percent of 990 deaths at national parks were considered intentional. That includes suicide and homicide.”

“It was a rhetorical question.” You shook your head. “Maybe if we get to higher ground we can get some cell service.”

You started to walk but had no idea where you were going. You just had to hope you would find some higher ground.

Spencer followed you for lack of any better suggestions. He was sulking like a petulant child, clearly there was something on his mind as he huffed a few times as he trailed behind you.

You walked no more than a few minutes before his constant sighing and pouting caused you to stop again.

“What?” You spat. “What is it?”

Spencer frowned, halting in his tracks too. He was rolling his lip frantically between his teeth now and jiggling a little where he stood.

“I, uh,” his cheeks flushed red. “I need to use the bathroom.”

You closed your eyes for a second, pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I hate to break it to you but there are no bathrooms way out here.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” He grumbled. “I need to…pee.”

“Okay, well take your pick.” You motioned around to the copious trees surrounding you.

“I’m not a dog.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry princess but it’s the best I can offer you.”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath, clenching his hands at his side. His leg was still jiggling with his need to urinate.

Spencer had developed an extremely strong bladder in his time in prison. The toilets on offer at Milburn were some of the most unhygienic he’d ever seen and as such had used them as little as humanly possible.

He’s trained himself to strengthen his bladder, exercising his pelvic floor in order to reduce the amount of times in a day he needed to use the bathroom.

As such during the hike he hadn’t been once while you had been multiple times. And now it had snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere and he wouldn’t be able to hold it long.

“Goddamn I hate nature.” He grumbled, glancing around for the largest looking tree he could use to shield himself from you.

You watched as he turned his back on you, hurrying off in one direction, further than was strictly necessary. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Don’t worry, Doc I’m not looking to catch a glimpse.” You called after him. You heard a tut in response but he didn’t rise to it.

Spencer pushed forwards through some bushes and weaved in and out large pines before he found a tree trunk far enough away from you that he could have some semblance of peace while he expelled himself.

He made sure the trunk was blocking his body before he unbuttoned his cargo shorts and freed himself from his pants. Within a fraction of a second he was already urinating.

He let out a relieved sigh, holding the base of his cock in one hand for aiming purposes whilst leaning the other on the tree.

He closed his eyes as the blissful sensation of his bladder emptying consumed him. He didn’t relish doing this in the woods but he couldn’t deny how nice it felt.

It felt so good in fact he didn’t even notice the itching of his calves. He finished his business and tucked himself away before buttoning his shorts.

He swung his pack off his back and rummaged in the side pocket for a little bottle of hand sanitiser. He squirted a little in his palm and rubbed his hands together.

Returning it to his bag and putting it back on, he noticed a stinging in his left calf but ignored it as he walked back over to you. As he walked his other leg started to sting too.

When he reached you he subconsciously reached down and started scratching the backs of his bare legs with his blunt nails. You stared at him curiously.

“You okay?”

“Just a little itchy. Think I’ve been bitten or something.” He grumbled.

You walked around him and regarded his legs. His skin was flushed red with little raised blisters dotted up the backs of both calves.

“Reid,” you took his wrists and guided his hands away from his frantic scratching. “I think you’ve walked in poison ivy.”

He snapped back to his full height, eyes wide.

“What? No? Come on!” He moaned, glancing back at the rash forming. “Could this day get any worse?”

“I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag, I’m going to need to treat those. If you keep scratching they could scar. Maybe this will teach you for wearing shorts on a hike.” You put down your backpack and rummaged for the kit.

“It’s nearly eighty degrees.” He scoffed. “And I’ve never been hiking before.”

“Just shut up and stand still. Give me your water.” You knelt down on the ground behind him.

“You’ve got your own water.”

“I’m not wasting my water on cleaning your rash because you were the idiot who wore shorts. Give me your water.”

Spencer huffed out a breath to show he wasn’t happy but then he unlatched his canteen from his bag strap and passed it back to you. So much for his calculations.

You uncapped it and poured a little on the back of each leg causing him to shudder. You used a small hand towel you had in your backpack to dry them off before sanitising your hands.

You located the hydrocortisone ointment in the first aid kit and squeezed a little on the pads of your fingers. You cautiously started on his left leg, massaging the cream into the small blisters.

Spencer hissed and his legs buckled a little. He was silent though and allowed you to treat his rash. Soon you were moving onto the other leg and although it stung Spencer couldn’t deny he enjoyed the skin to skin contact.

As much as he hated to admit it, Spencer was touch starved. He hadn’t felt another set of hands on him in such a tender way since before prison.

He’d deliberately kept everyone at arms length since, not trusting himself or deeming himself worthy to be so close to another person.

He’d almost allowed himself to go there with Max, to succumb to the kind of pleasure he’d sorely missed. They’d kissed but ultimately that was the furthest he’d let himself go.

And somehow your benevolent touch was more intimate than kissing Max. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part.

He was sure you knew the real reason he was so brusque with you wasn’t because of what you’d call him during your first case. He was annoyed about it at first but he hadn’t held a grudge over it.

His curt behaviour towards you stemmed from his almost overwhelming crush on you. He’d pushed you away because when he met you he wasn’t ready to be close to someone. But in doing so he had inevitably sealed his own fate so that now when he might actually want to pursue something, you could barely stand him.

He tried to omit the feeling of your fingertips on his calves and focused his attention on the warbling of a nearby bird. Its song wasn’t the prettiest he’d ever heard but it had a certain cadence to it which he found oddly calming.

All too soon you were finished and your touch was gone, leaving Spencer feeling dissatisfied. You wrapped both of his rashes in gauze bandages but your fingers barely ghosted over his flesh again.

You stuffed the kit back away and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off of your knees. Spencer looked down at his newly bandaged legs with a small frown.

“Do you have a change of clothes? Some pants perhaps?” You asked.

“No, for all my planning and research I did not think to bring long pants.” He shook his head at his oversight.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you could have asked me what you should bring. The whole team knows I’m big on hiking and camping.” You turned away from him, looking back out through the trees to try and ascertain the best direction to head. “I also could have told you that converse was a dumb choice for hiking. I can only imagine how much your feet hurt.”

Spencer made a noise that sounded somewhat like he agreed with you but didn’t want to say it out loud. You pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from your backpack and unfolded it, staring intently at it for a few moments.

Spencer came closer, glancing down at the wrinkled paper in your hands. It looked to be a topographic map of the area. Finally something Spencer understood about hiking.

“Didn’t know Garcia gave us those.” He spoke as you studied it.

“She didn’t. This isn’t my first rodeo, I would never have come out here without one.” You didn’t look at him.

“So I can read this but how do you work out where we are? There’s nothing but trees for miles.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Observation. We passed a small body of water about a mile back. I didn’t see it but I could hear it off to the west. And this incline,” you pointed in front of you. “Will help figure it out.”

“Okay, so a small body of water and an area where the contour lines aren’t too close as the hill isn’t too steep.” He nodded.

“Exactly.” You agreed. “And if my bearings are right I believe we’re facing north east.”

Spencer looked around briefly before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Because of the position of the sun.”

“Yep. And the moss.” You nodded towards the trees. “It’s not an exact science but in the whole moss tends to grow on the north side of trees in the northern hemisphere.”

Spencer watched while you ran your index finger along the map, trying to draw on everything you knew in order to get the two of you to higher ground.

“Wow I’m…I’m actually impressed.” He chuckled a little and you looked up at him with a frown.

“Are you patronising me?”

“What? No! I mean it. I’m really impressed.”

“Oh,” you looked back at the map. “Thanks.”

A minute or so later and you’d estimated a few miles worth of trail you believed the two of you to be on. If you were right you were still miles from the camp and wouldn’t make it there by nightfall.

Your plan was to find somewhere to get cell service so you could call the team and hopefully they could get park rangers out here to find you as they were the only ones equipped to traverse the forest after dark.

Spencer followed you while you kept the map in your hand. The two of you walked for another mile or so, by this point Spencer’s water rations were nearly depleted.

Eventually you stopped at the foot of a large, steep hill and Spencer looked up at it with a dubious expression.

“You want me to climb that?” He whined.

“Well we have a better chance of getting cell service when we have two phones.” You rolled your eyes, folding the map and slotting it in your pocket.

“Can’t you just take mine up there with you?” He pulled a face. “I really do not possess the physical prowess for this.”

“No kidding.” You scoffed. “But we’re in this together. I could get hurt or something, I need you for backup.”

Spencer groaned, pouting his bottom lip like a child.

“Oh jeez, fine.” He huffed. “But I will complain every step of the way.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” With a shake of your head you started forward and Spencer reluctantly followed you.

You got less than twenty paces before he almost slipped and fell on his face. To steady himself he instinctively reached for your hand. He didn’t let go the whole way up.

You hated to admit it but there was something oddly comforting about Spencer’s hand in yours. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft and it was so much larger than your own he all but encompassed yours.

He held onto you tightly, fingers squeezing your hand every time his foot slipped a little on the hilly ground. A part of you didn’t want to make it to the top because you didn’t want him to let go.

But of course as soon as the ground levelled out he slipped his hand away and all but collapsed onto the damp ground below, huffing and puffing. You watched him grab his canteen and finish the water without a second thought.

He removed his pack and rolled onto his back, relishing in every last drop of liquid and clearly not concerned he had now emptied his reserves. He closed his eyes and pushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead.

You pulled your cell phone out and unlocked it. You had one tiny bar of signal which you hoped was enough to make a call. You nudged Spencer in the ribs with the toe of your hiking boot. His eyes shot open and he stared up at you, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes.

“I’ve got one bar, I’m going to try and call Prentiss.” You informed him, bringing up your contacts.

You found Emily’s name quickly and hit the call button before putting the device on speaker. The dial tone was crackly and you knew the signal could cut out at any minute. It rang four times before Emily answered but her words were muffled and you only caught a handful of what she said.

“Y/N…are you?...Gone hours…thing okay?”

“Emily, we got lost. Our GPS was misprogrammed. We need help.” You had no idea how much she could hear of what you were saying.

“...are you?...send a rang…coordinates?”

You reeled off your approximate coordinates, explaining that you could be anywhere within a few miles of that spot but again you don’t know what she heard due to the spotty service.

“Hold tight…get a ranger…be okay.”

“Thanks Emily.” You finished before hanging up.

Spencer was still on the floor on his back, his brows furrowed in concern.

“How much of that do you think she got?” He was rolling his lip between his teeth.

“I have no idea.” You pocketed the phone again. “I’m almost certain Garcia would have brought her laptop with her. If she can get to the rangers station and get on the WiFi she might be able to locate us.”

“Yeah, good point. Garcia is the best.” His eyes closed again, a strangely dreamy smile on his lips.

“What are you doing?” You kicked him again and his eyes quickly opened and he stared at you.

“Resting, what does it look like?” He scowled.

“Reid, the second the sun goes down the temperature is going to plummet. We need to make a fire.”

“Goddamnit,” he pushed himself to a sitting position. “I hate the outdoors.”

You chose to ignore him and didn’t help him to his feet, instead started wandering around in the search for some sticks for the fire. Spencer eventually got himself up and started to help. The sun was barely a sliver in the sky by the time you collected enough wood.

You created a crisscross on the ground with the kindling, explaining to Spencer this type of fire would burn for longer and not need as much wood. You had no idea how long you would be out here and you needed to stay warm. The smoke would also help draw attention to your whereabouts.

You retrieved a pack of matches from your back, Spencer once again impressed by your preparedness. He simply watched while you went about lighting the fire, in silent awe. It was several minutes before the fire started to grow and he shuffled closer to it, sitting cross legged on the dirty forest floor and holding his hands towards the flames.

You sat down next to him, but not too close. You got out a fleece hoodie from your bag and slipped it over your head. As if jogging some kind of memory for Spencer he opened his own bag and found his oversized CalTech sweatshirt, thankful he’d had the forethought to pack this even if he had overlooked bringing pants.

Sitting by the fire you felt the fatigue wash over you. You could quite easily curl up and fall asleep after the day's events. Spencer noticed your fluttering eyelids and how you were desperately trying to stay awake.

He suddenly felt extremely bad for how difficult he’d been all day, complaining and moaning while you tried to keep him safe and alive. He huffed out a breath and the sound caused you to look at him.

Half of his face was illuminated by the glow of the fire, the other side set in deep shadow from where the sun had now almost completely vanished beneath the horizon. His golden brown eyes shimmered as he looked at you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry I’ve been such hard work today.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“Reid, I’m used to you being hard work.” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“I’m sorry about that too.” He swallowed. “Do you…do you want to lay your head down on my lap? You deserve to rest.”

You frowned a little sceptical, mildly concerned by the offer as Spencer had never been so nice to you. But you were too tired to question it and the idea of laying down sounded wonderful. You nodded slowly, prompting Spencer to uncross his legs and stretch them out in front of himself.

You sucked in a breath, shuffling in the dirt so you could lay on your side with your head in his lap while you stretched your own body out on the ground.

Without meaning to, Spencer's hand was soon brushing through your hair. You couldn’t help the hum of appreciation that you let escape and it goaded him to continue.

His touch elicited the sweetest sounds from your lips, some sounding dangerously like moans. Spencer was only human and his body reacted of its own accord at the noises.

He could sense the blood rushing south, feel the swelling in his shorts despite how much he willed it stop. He stilled his movements on your hair, hoping if you weren’t making those delirious sounds it would stop the blood rushing and he wouldn’t get hard enough for you to notice…

…You suddenly sat up, looking right at him with wide eyes. Of course you’d noticed, his crotch was right beneath your head.

His cheeks instantly flushed red and he pulled a face full of apologies and mortification. You continued to stare at him and he felt more uncomfortable with each silent second.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Just…don’t mention it.”

“Kinda hard not to…pun not intended.” You frowned at your own choice of words and Spencer groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “It has been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person. I can’t be held responsible for my body’s carnal reactions. Especially when you’re making such sinful noises.”

Your own cheeks turned red now and you glanced away from him towards the fire.

“I, uh…I didn’t realise I was. Sorry.” You croaked. “Full disclosure, it’s also been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed as he regarded you. He found that incredibly hard to believe. You were just so beautiful he imagined men fell at your feet everywhere you went.

“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Seriously.” You confirmed with a huff as you turned back to him.

“But why?”

“Why what? I don’t understand.”

“I mean…you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and charismatic. Surely you could have your pick of men?” Spencer was really frowning.

“I’m…fussy I suppose? And I don’t really like the whole casual sex thing…” You trailed off with your own frown. “Wait did you call me beautiful?”

“And smart and charismatic.” He nodded.

“Uh, thanks?” You were rightfully confused, Spencer had never said anything nice about you. “What about you? You don’t have women lining up at your door? And weren’t you dating someone?”

Spencer let out a hearty laugh at this, shaking his head dramatically.

“Max and I broke up not long after Cat and her games. We never…you know…and trust me when I say women do not fawn over a neurotic, socially awkward ex-con.” Spencer sighed sadly.

“Oh, I didn’t realise about Max, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have worked out even if Cat hadn’t interfered.” He pulled a face, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t know me before prison. I’m not the same man I used to be. I had to do things on the inside just to survive and it changed me. For a long time I didn’t trust myself to get close to anyone. A part of me still doesn't but I’m trying I guess? Max was the closest I came to allowing myself to be vulnerable again.”

You simply stared at him, unsure what to say. You’d never spoken so personally with Spencer before, he’d never opened up to you in such a way and you didn’t know how to respond.

You knew you needed to tread lightly, not wanting to risk him clamming up and shutting you down. You were making progress for the first time since you’d met him and you didn’t want to give him a reason not to continue.

“I didn’t know you before prison and I have no idea the things you would have gone through in there. But I do know you now. I know you shield yourself behind these huge walls to keep people from hurting you, probably because you’ve already been hurt enough for one lifetime.

“You kept me at arms length because you don’t like change, you worried I would threaten the team dynamic. But once you realised that wasn’t the case, you were too far gone and it was easier for you to keep treating me with disdain rather than thaw towards me.”

Spencer was silent while you talked, ingesting your words, mulling them over in his head. His expression tightened, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips drawn into a line.

“I guess you’re right, at least about some of it.” He exhaled. “I was always guarded to a degree even before prison. People have always disappointed me I guess and so I learnt not to rely on anyone, not to let anyone get too close. It’s easier to be alone than to risk getting hurt.

“But you’re wrong about why I kept you away. Your comment about me being a mama’s boy stung but I didn’t hold it against you. I needed to put distance between us because from the first time I met you I knew how effortless it would be for me to fall for you.

“I was too raw at the time, I wasn’t ready to give my heart away to someone who might not even want it. I had to keep you at arms length because it was safer than letting myself develop feelings for someone who probably wouldn’t reciprocate. But I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, and I’m hoping once we’re rescued we can just forget this whole thing ever happened. But I suppose you deserve to know why I am the way I am with you and maybe going forward we can try to be…I don’t know…friends? Or at the very least I hope we can get along better.” He sucked in a breath when he finished speaking, looking completely exhausted and utterly heartbroken.

You couldn’t speak. You took in every single word, toyed with them in your mind and tried to make sense of them. But really they didn’t make any sense. In the year you’d known Spencer you had never even gotten so much as a hint that he had feelings for you. He was detached, withdrawn and oftentimes entirely unapproachable.

It seemed implausible that he could have been hiding these feelings all this time and for you not to have a clue. You were a profiler, wasn’t it your job to pick up on these things? Did the rest of the team figure it out? Were you the only one in the dark?

He looked increasingly uncomfortable by his confession with every passing second of silence. The fire crackled, its warmth washing over you both. It cast you both in a cosy glow.

Spencer seemed closer somehow. Did you move nearer or had he, or was it simply all in your head?

There were so many things you could say, so many possibilities but you couldn’t form a simple sentence. Every time you tried to speak your words caught in your throat and his own played over in a loop in your brain.

I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway.

Spencer had feelings for you and he thought you wouldn’t feel the same. Perhaps neither of you were as good at profiling as you thought.

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, growing self conscious in your lack of response. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose.

“I should not have said any of that.” He averted his gaze to the fire. “I don’t even know why I did. Jeez, I’m a moron. Please can you just pretended I didn’t…”

He trailed off when your hand cupped his chin and you turned him gently to look at you.

“Yes, you are a moron.” You smiled meekly. “But only because you missed what was right in front of you. How can you think I didn’t feel the same?”

His mouth fell open, your hand still on his jaw. He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear some kind of fog in his brain.

“You…I’m confused.” He frowned.

“Let me clear it up for you then.” You dropped your hand to your side but seconds later your lips crushed against his.

Spencer gasped at the sudden action, in a million years he never dreamed to actually feel your lips on his. And if he never got this chance again, he was going to make the most of it.

He raised his hands to cup your face and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, gently asking for passageway. You obliged by parting your lips enough for his tongue to slide inside.

You were quick to explore the contours of each other's mouths, both of your desperations evident in the way your teeth knocked together while you worked to find your rhythm.

One of his hands worked its way into the back of your hair and held you firmly as he deepened the kiss further. He pulled you into his lap and you manoeuvred yourself so you were straddling him, kneeling in the dirt either side of his hips.

He kept one hand cradling your head and the other moved down over your ribs. It dipped beneath the thick fabric of your hoodie, sandwiched between it and your shirt underneath.

You rocked in his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around neck. The friction caused him to moan languidly into your mouth and it wasn’t long before you felt him growing hard again.

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, his pupils were blown out, heavy with lust. He was begging you for more without the use of words, he removed one of your hands from around his neck and moved it between your bodies.

He placed your palm on his rapidly growing erection, rolling his swollen lip with his teeth whilst silently asking if this was okay. You smiled at him and your other hand joined it so you could pop the button of his shorts.

One hand wasted no time in diving straight into his boxers and wrapping around his shaft. You quickly tugged him free of the confines of both his shorts and underwear.

You sat back a little on your haunches to look down on him. You couldn’t hold back your lamentation as you surveyed every inch of him in your hand. He was long and thick, heavy against your palm. Honestly you hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

The vein that ran up the underside throbbed as you brushed your thumb over it and he bucked his hips when you moved it to rub over his swollen red tip. You slowly brought your fist all the way back down, squeezing his base whilst nestled in a bed of scratchy pubic hair.

You tore your eyes away from his crotch and looked up to meet his eyes. They held a hint of uncertainty, as though he was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. Spencer never was blessed with body confidence, he was always too skinny or too tall or too gangly.

He wasn’t dumb though, he knew that particular appendage was above average. He didn’t have a wealth of sexual experience but he had enough to know that he was often a tight fit for most. But that didn’t stop him from feeling self conscious under your gaze.

The smile on your face and the glint in your eye was enough for him to know that you were pleased by what you’d seen and it allowed him to relax a little. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as your hand slowly started to move and it had nothing to do with his proximity to the fire.

He wriggled beneath you as you started moving your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over his sensitive head each time. A string of wanton moans left his lips and he was momentarily dumbfounded while you worked him, not able to do anything but sit and relish in this feeling.

Your petite hand couldn’t fit all the way around him but it didn’t make your movements any less mind blowing. He had never been touched like this before, with such a combination of care and desperation.

Once he got his brain working for long enough to think straight, he moved his hands towards the buttons of your pants. You didn’t let up on your ministrations while he got them undone, swiping your thumb through the precum collecting on his head.

He swiftly popped the buttons and his right hand dipped inside straight inside your panties. He moaned animalistically when he discovered how wet you were already, the sound dissipating out into the forest.

You kept eye contact with each other as his fingers slid between your legs, collecting your arousal before moving to settle on your needy clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive bud with two fingers, rocking against his hand whilst increasing your speed on his cock.

The sounds coming from the both of you were nothing short of feral and became eaten up by the vast woods surrounding you. You grinded against his hand while he flicked your nub deftly, eager to bring you to orgasm.

You returned the favour and matched his speed. The sounds of your arousal and his flesh against yours filled your ears. The fire continued to crackle behind you, casting you in an ethereal glow from where you perched on top of him.

His chest heaved and his stomach was coiling into thick knots. He wanted this to last forever but knew his orgasm was imminent. It had been all too long since someone had touched him so intimately and it would be impossible to stave off his release for too long.

But judging by the noises you were making, the sinful whines and moans leaving your parted lips and how frantically you bucked against his hand, he assumed you were in the same boat.

“Jesus, Reid,” you panted heavily. “Who knew you’d be so good at that?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, increasing his speed even further as if to prove that point.

“Likewise.” He replied, whimpering as you swiped your thumb through more beads of precum.

“I’m so close.” You whined, throwing your head back to your shoulders.

“M-me too.” He stuttered, stomach clenching at the way you twisted your fist around his shaft.

Somewhere in the distance you heard a twig snap but paid it no attention. You kept your focus here on Spencer, on how he was making you feel and on how you were making him feel. But then you heard another crunch followed by a faint voice.

“Reid? Y/LN?” It called. “I see smoke! That has to be them!”

“Is that…?” Spencer frowned, breathing heavily.

“G-Garcia.” You mumbled.

“Fuck,” Spencer groaned, his frustration evident.

“Reid? Y/L/N? It’s Penny G, can you hear me, my loves?”

You and Spencer exchanged a look while you both stilled your movements at the same time. He kept his hand inside your panties while you held the base of his shaft limply. You felt dizzy, you were on the cusp of orgasm, about to fall over the ledge when Garcia’s voice had dragged you back from the brink. Looking at Spencer, he felt much the same.

“Y/L/N, Reid! We’re coming angels!”

“Oof,” Spencer groaned, cautiously withdrawing his hand from inside your pants. “Poor choice of words.”

You reluctantly let go of his shaft and crawled away from him while you both readjusted yourself and got your pants done up.

“Over here, Garcia.” You called, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice shook.

Your body tingled, so close to release a soft breeze could get you there. Spencer pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking and reached out to help you up. He was tenting his shorts, unable to get the blood flowing elsewhere due to how close he’d been. He picked up his backpack and held it in front of him so Garcia wouldn’t notice.

Your underwear was soaked and sticky. You tried to adjust your stance so it was less uncomfortable but it was almost impossible. You could see three flashlights in the distance and the footsteps were growing closer.

Soon enough Garcia and two park rangers appeared through the thicket. If she noticed the flush of your cheeks she didn’t say anything. She immediately threw her arms around both of you, Spencer cloying to keep his bag as a barrier between himself and the bubbly blonde for fear she might feel his unyielding erection.

“Oh my sweet angels!” She cooed over you both. “Let's get you back to camp and get you warmed up and fed.”

You both silently agreed and let the rangers lead you back towards a clearing where their vehicle awaited you. Garcia hopped in the backseat first and Spencer held open the door for you, offering a meek smile as you passed him.

Perhaps it was for the best you’d been interrupted before you could go too far. Perhaps Garcia had inadvertently helped you dodge a bullet.

***

Several hours later after making it back to the camp and feasting on Rossi’s campfire soup and bread and whilst being wrapped in Garcia’s fluffy blankets, one by one the other members of the BAU retired for the night.

The fire was still dwindling as you perched on a log next to Spencer, silence deafening you once the two of you were alone. You watched the small flames flicker and dance in the soft breeze, soaking up the last of the summer evening before calling it a night yourself.

Before you did, you turned to face him to find he was already looking at you. He smiled softly, a little bashfully and you returned it. Words and emotions bubbled under the surface and neither one of you knew where to start.

“Some day, huh.” You shrugged, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body.

“It was certainly eye opening.” Spencer agreed.

“It was probably for the best that Garcia and those rangers found us when they did, right?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Probably stopped us from doing something even more stupid.” Spencer chuckled nervously.

“Exactly.” You nodded, getting to your feet. Spencer did the same. “We can just pretend nothing happened. We were tired, probably a little dehydrated. The sun makes us do weird things.”

“Yeah, the sun.” He nodded too.

You swallowed thickly, giving him one last look before turning towards your tent. Spencer scuffed the toe of his converse on the ground and found himself speaking again without really meaning to.

“I mean…it would have been nice to at least finish. I’ve been kinda on edge ever since.”

You spun back to look at him and he looked so unsure of himself. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were pitched up to his ears.

“Uh, yeah same here.” You took a couple of tentative steps back towards him. “There’s no doubt I could go back to my tent right now and finish what we started alone but…”

“But your hand feels so much better than my own.” Spencer finished for you.

You both chuckled as you reached him again, letting go of your blanket and letting it fall to the floor so you wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck.

“It would just be a one time thing.” You whispered, your breath fanning across his face.

“Even though you don’t like casual sex.” He placed his hands on your hips.

“Even though I don’t like casual sex.” You repeated.

“We’re just…two colleagues helping each other.” Spencer smirked, inching his face closer to yours.

“And if anyone ever found out…”

“We’d blame the sun. Summer heat got to us.”

“Summer heat.” You agreed and with that he kissed you again, drawing you into his body whilst tugging you in the direction of his own tent.

Spencer had never been a fan of summer. But after today he may have been converted. And he was certain this summer heat between you would continue to smoulder through the seasons.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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mncxbe · 10 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...

ೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: pwp, needy/pervy? men, backseat activities, creampie, pet names, not proofread

the 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 who watch you from the distance, not daring to interact with you in any way. their life is messy, dangerous– violence and death leaving no space for love. and even if he could afford such mundane affections, an angel like you would never turn their gaze on them, right?

well, that's what he thought until you hit him up. walking up behind him and tapping his shoulder with the most innocent smile plastered on your pretty face. "Hey there, stranger. You look a little lost" it's all you say, your voice barely audible over the loud music and chatter in the bar. he thinks you look prettier up close and finds himself unable to reply with any witty or flirty remark. "Not really, it's just not a place I usually go to".

'stupid idiot–' it's all he can say to himself, the fear of coming across as uninterested and pushing you away rooted deep in his bones. but his comment only makes your smile widen. you lean in and he feels his cock straining his pants when you brush your fingertips against his thigh, moving them upwards, tempting him "Then why don't we go somewhere more comfortable for both of us?"

That's how you ended up in the backseat of his car with his hand cupping your panty clad ass "Please baby take 'em off for me, will you?" he pleads and you indulge him, sliding off the lace trimmed panties to grant him access to your cunt before climbing back on his lap.

It feels good, too good, the way you grind on his hand– his fingertips shoved snugly against your sweet spot, causing moans and mewls to spill from your glossy lips as your hands find his belt, skillfully unbuckling it. his cock slides inside you easily, stretching your gummy walls and fuck– you feel just like he imagined.

it doesn't take too long for the windows to fog up– not when he's messily bucking his hips to meet your grinds, panting like he'd just run a marathon. "that's it pretty girl just keep bouncing on me ah fuck— feels too good. y'er sqeezing me so tight–" he whines between shallow breaths, completely lost in the feeling of your walls clamping down on him. he never thought a man like him would ever reach heaven but there he is, buried deep inside your pretty little cunt.

he's not used to the pleasure, really, so it doesn't take him long to reach his high. an unfamiliar warmth pools in his core, making him feel dizzy. he closes his eyes and doesn't even realize that his hands are fiercely squeezing your hips– keeping you nice and steady as he ruts inside you, his leaking tip hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "fuck, fuck, fuck baby 'm close" he groans and it's like music to your ears.

the feeling is overwhelming, so many emotions swirling inside him all at once– it's like you dug deep inside his soul and opened Pandora's box. guilt, need, shame, bliss, adoration. if it weren't for the tears spilling from his eyes you wouldn't be aware of the effect you had on him.

you smile and gently wipe his tears away, placing little kisses on his cheeks as you cup his face with your hands, encouraging him to keep going "make yourself feel good for me, okay? you deserve it you're doing good. c'mon cum for me, handsome"

and he does— and it feels like heaven. his vision blurs as his cum spurts inside you, painting your gummy walls white. it takes him a while to regain his breath and composure, but even when his calm-and-collected mask is back on the grip on your hips doesn't falter. he keeps himself sheathed inside you as you lean against him, your combined juices leaking down to his base.

"so..." you eventually speak up, your face still buried in the crook of his neck. "you feeling better now?" he only hums for lack of a better response, kissing the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you flush against his chest. he can't bring himself to tell you he's afraid to let you go, that he wants to stay like this for one more minute– to indulge himself the pleasure and comfort of normality and intimacy. because in the end he's still a stranger to you. still... things may change between you and this luxury he rarely affords could become part of his routine– if you want that too. for now he can only hope for something more and let the rough edges of his soul soften up in your embrace.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀, 𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀, 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎, 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀, 𝐀𝐊𝐈, (𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫) 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐄 ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

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Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Soap, Alex, König)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

This is pure fluff. Platonic and romantic. Please, try to sleep enough, guys.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Platonic

Let's just hope, every inch of your skin is securely covered with cloth. You've just asked why? Oh, you aren't prepared, are you, poor thing?

Too bad. Because Johnny can be infinitely proud of the fact that only next to him, you relax so much that you allow yourself to fall asleep on his lap. But he'll never turn down an opportunity to prank you.

Soap doesn't mind that he only has one arm free - you use the other as an extra pillow. He opens the marker with his teeth.

Following Johnny's gaze, Ghost hides his hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant, please! I need my references!" "I'm not taking part in this nonsense, MacTavish." "But she loves your sleeve! Why not let her wear the same one for a few days?" "A few days? Don't tell me, you're using a permanent one! And since when I have a dead rat as a part of my sleeve?" "It's not a rat, this is a skull. Ever heard of an artistic interpretation?"

Romantic

His hand embraces you the very next second, he notices, you're asleep.

Doesn't give a damn, if anyone sees you two like that. In fact, he would very much appreciate, if everyone seen, how safe and happy he makes you feel.

He will quietly murmur you lullabies that he heard as a child. If you ardently wake up and ask him, what are they about, he would apologize and confess that they are in Gaelic, and he barely speaks it.

"Oh, that's ok, don't be sorry. Could you, maybe, sing a bit more to me?" "Aye, bonnie. Now close your eyes."

Will bury his face in your hair and rub his cheek against the top of your head, while humming quietly, slowly losing himself in your heavenly scent.

Alex Keller

Platonic

Surprisingly calm about it. He will not wake you up or whisk you away from his shoulder. He won't even think about commenting on what happened when you wake up.

Alex knows perfectly well what it's like to carve out every free minute on deployment to have a little rest between missions.

He is grateful, that you were on the same team - he could not wish for a better partner than you. Therefore, he is ready to help you not only on the battlefield. If you are tired and want to take a nap, he will lend a shoulder.

If this happened in transport, Alex will cradle you so that you do not hit the back of your head against the wall at a sharp turn.

May once make you 'return the favor' passing out on your shoulder. He does not lean on you completely, plus he has the fluffiest, softest hair out there, so don't worry, it will feel nice.

Romantic

Have you ever seen a light bulb the size of a grown man turning on in a room? Because that's what Alex looks like when you don't answer his question because you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder.

He dreamt to be your safe place, to make you feel protected, taken care of. And you've just convinced him, that he actually succeeded.

Can't help but smile, hugging you with all care and fondness, he is capable of.

If someone approaches him with a question, while you are still sleeping, he will put his finger to his lips, making it clear to this person, that now is not the best moment.

If you wake up and ask him, how long did you nap, Alex will always answer, 'oh, you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago'. Even if you fell asleep more than an hour before.

Please, just let him stay like that with you for a little longer. These are the moments, he lives for: you in his hands, in peace, loved and loving.

König

Platonic

Oh no, this poor soul, he is completely lost. He doesn't feel, if his verbal interactions are graceful enough, and you've just accidentally initiated a prolonged touch.

His pulse is higher than Austrian mountains, as he tries to sit still and mimic the wall or couch under your head.

He hides his eyes when someone passes by you, tries to pretend that this is how it should be, thanks all the gods for not taking off his veil immediately after returning from the mission so no one sees the blush stretching from his cheeks to his neck.

"Horangi... Pssst, Horangi! W-what should I do?" "Ehm, enjoy a peaceful moment with fellow soldier? You guys look cute like that." "Wait, don't leave me here! This whole situation might be inappropriate... You must help me now! Do something!!" "You want me to wake her up?" "Yes! Wait, no! What if waking her up is actually inappropriate?"

König will sincerely want to apologize to you. He does not yet know what exactly, but he certainly did something wrong. He will suffer and spin in bed half the night, formulating a socially acceptable apology, and finally fall asleep, satisfied with the phrase he composed.

He'll come up to you in the morning, only to realize with horror that he forgot the exact wording of the apology. Therefore, he will honor you with a short nod, turn around and go in the opposite direction.

Romantic

König pretends he's asleep too. It is ok to not move, since he is asleep, yes? It is enough of an excuse to hold you in a tight embrace, since he's doing it unconsciously, is it?

It doesn't even matter, if everybody around knows what exactly is happening between you two - he still believes, he needs an excuse to touch you, even to be around you.

Due to his size, König can simply hide you in his arms. Can and will. You are after all his treasure.

He discreetly lifts his veil up just to take your hand and press a quick kiss against your knuckles. He enjoys the opportunity to touch you like that from time to time when others are not looking.

But if someone decides to interrupt this heaven - they better be prepared for the coldest, most menacing death glare. Because König won't let anyone disturb his Schatzis` moment of peace.

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mermaidgirl30 · 4 months ago

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✨Fading Into Lilac Skies✨

Boyfriend’s Dad! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: “Colors” by Halsey inspired this one-shot, and I’m absolutely in love with them. Thank you to the lovely @alltheirdamn for being my beta reader 💜 This has been permeating in my mind for a few months, and I’m so glad I finally wrote it. Reblogs and comments make my day ✨

Summary: You never meant to fall for your boyfriend’s dad, but it happened. You just couldn’t stay away from those shades of blue and grey. But your favorite thing was turning them the color your soul was. Lilac.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: Yearning, longing, forbidden love, secret affair, secret relationship, mentions of smut, falling in love, angst, boyfriend’s dad! Joel, age gap, no use y/n, no outbreak! au

“Everything is blue. His pills, his hands, his jeans. And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams. And it's blue, and it's blue. Everything is grey. His hair, his smoke, his dreams. And now he’s so devoid of color, he don’t know what it means. And he’s blue, and he’s blue.”

- “Colors” by Halsey

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

There’s a point you had passed long ago, a restricted section that should’ve had bolted locks forbidding you from ever daring to enter such a dangerous territory. Those gates were torn down and ripped open the moment you met him. Your boyfriend’s dad, Joel Miller. There was just something that kept you coming back to his house, back into the lion’s den. Back into his arms. Joel Miller’s.

It all started that first time you laid eyes on him while he sat in his garage, a large brewed cup of coffee in hand, taking slow sips while he watched the sun slip into the sky, painting vivid pinks and oranges from the sunrise.

He was intense, pensive, brooding. Something about him screamed sorrow, regret, maybe mournful like he had lost something or let someone slip from his fingers. His salt-and-pepper scruff framed his shadowed face, long greying sandy hair silhouetting his hooded chocolate eyes. His green flannel clung to his large arms, broad shoulders hugging the soft fabric. His thick veins spiraled down his tanned arms like a waterfall, and his thick fingers hugged the curve of the coffee cup with every sip he took from the steamy drink. You almost wanted to become the sides of that curved coffee cup, just so you could maybe taste what it was like to be kissed by lips that looked like they were soft enough to fall into, and maybe he’d swallow you whole.

His dark eyes fell on you, slowly slipping over your form entirely as your boyfriend, Jackson, introduced you to his father, an extremely handsome man that made butterflies flit through your stomach.

“Dad, this is my girlfriend. Had to finally introduce you,” Jackson smiled enthusiastically, like he was the proudest boyfriend in the world.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you said shyly, fingers curling against your cotton summer dress, eyes widening with the slight grunt and nod your way from him.

“Call me Joel, sweetheart.” He took your hand slowly, calloused fingers colliding with your own to leave you choking on your own shaky voice. His eyes were like wildfire, dark flecks glistening up at you, tempting you to jump into the raging flames.

His big hand lingered against yours a little too long, not even paying attention to his son who stood right next to you, until he dropped your hand and flicked his eyes back to his only son. “I trust you’re takin’ good care of her?” he asked, eyes slightly narrowing at his twenty-eight-year-old son.

“Sure am, pops.”

Joel hummed, flicking his eyes back to you as they nonchalantly slid over your body again, making your breath falter at the sight. “He gives you any trouble you come to me, understand?” he demanded with a slight gruffness to his deep voice, almost sounding like he was commanding you.

You nodded, gasping at the dominance in his tone. “Yes, sir,” you murmured.

“Attagirl,” he smiled, coffee eyes swirling in your vision. You nearly buckled your knees at the word. Attagirl. Jackson never told you that, didn’t dare call you a good girl. But Joel? He might as well have fucking just said that, he basically did say that.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. You two stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Sure, dad. See ya later. Gonna go drive down to the lake.”

You gave him one last glance as he said your name low, nodding his head your way as he watched you walk to the hunter green jeep, waiting for Jackson to unlock the car.

Your eyes trailed back to the garage, making you gasp when you saw Joel staring directly your way, sipping on his coffee and keeping those cool, dark eyes on you. Your breath shifted and your heartbeat skipped a beat, making your legs feel like mush. And when you finally drove off the pavement, his eyes still stayed locked on yours, even as you left the street. They never once looked away.

Fuck. You never expected to have a crush on your boyfriend’s dad, but here you were. Fingers tangled in your fabric with your breathing rapid and unsteady.

Yeah, this was not going to be good.

Jackson later told you his father had gotten a bad divorce a couple years ago, had a struggling fight to keep custody of his daughter, Sarah, and had gone through a bunch of shit with his previous contracting company. He really had seen the tolls of hell lately, and now you started to get why he always seemed so sad when you’d see him working in his garage by himself or sitting out on his wooden porch drinking freshly brewed coffee and strumming along softly on his acoustic guitar. He was lonely.

There was always something missing, a fraction of a piece lost in those dark, somber eyes of his. And you felt bad for him, even sorry, like it was somehow your fault. You wished you could make it better, give him something to cling to for the sadness to settle away, maybe take a teaspoon of those grey skies and turn them to bright blue ones. But you shouldn’t think that, not with your boyfriend’s dad. What kind of girlfriend would that make you? But apparently those thoughts completely flew through your mind, getting lost to the soundless wind and muted regrets.

A couple of weeks went by and you found yourself at his house again, just so he could fix something on Jackson’s jeep. Something with the alternator. Just when you thought you were safe, Jackson ran to the car parts store, leaving you alone in Joel’s house. Somewhere where you should’ve never been left alone.

You meandered out on the back porch, finding him sitting in a wooden rocking chair and sighing, his back hunched while he watched a pack of deer graze on the tall grass. He looked somewhat content, but you could see in that far off gaze he was contemplating something very deep in that ocean of a grey mind.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, watching him nod his head to the polished rocking chair sitting next to him. You took a seat cautiously, careful not to disturb his morning peace, but he didn’t seem so bothered by your company.

His eyes flicked to yours slowly. They were a shiny amber color today, deep brown flecks glittering against the rising sunshine. And they were so beautiful that a gasp slipped from your lips unexpectedly. Closing your gaping mouth, you briefly smiled, and his eyes seemed to crystallize over into a deeper chocolate color.

He was so beautiful.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asked calmly, his breath warm, gently blowing against the side of your face. You smelled the coffee simmering on his tongue, and his pine scent kissed your skin, awakening something deep inside you that should’ve never bloomed in the first place.

“Oh, mhm. Great, actually. But what about you?” You tilted your head and watched the way his jaw flexed, his eyes cloudy with a tinge of gloom in those brown doe eyes of his.

He shrugged and took a slow sip of his coffee, looking far off into the open field that had deer and cattle meandering out in the lush green acreage. “Workin’, stayin’ busy. Guess you could say I’m jus’ fine. Got everything I need right here.” His eyes flicked over the open field, but you saw the faint hint of regret as his eyes darkened, and his body slid a little further down into his hand-made rocking chair.

Slowly turning your knees to him, you leaned against the solid arm of the rocking chair and caught the way his eyes slid back to yours, like he knew you were about to say something else. Taking a deep breath, you went for it. “Jackson told me about… about everything you’ve been going through these past couple of years. And I wanted to say, if you ever need a friend or just someone to talk to, then you can talk to me. I’ll be here.”

Your hand slowly reached over, timidly grazing over the top of his rough hand, until your palm cautiously settled against his broken skin, starting a warm fire in the pit of your stomach as your skin brushed against his.

His back went rigid, and the way he was looking at you all wide-eyed and soft had your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest. An unsteady rhythm that had your throat closing up like there was no more air available in your lungs. There was only him swirling around your heart.

He flicked his gaze across your settled hand and slowly but surely, his other hand came down to rest on yours, his fingers lacing in the crevice of your fingers until they formed like impenetrable clay. And suddenly, a shade of grey cleared from his foggy eyes, and warmth spread across his tanned cheeks. He wasn’t so blue after all, at least not when you were around.

“He told you?” he asked quietly.

“He told me everything,” you answered back discreetly.

“Why?” His thick eyebrows threaded together, and the wrinkles on his forehead formed a map of lines that you strangely wanted to trace with the tip of your finger, so you could maybe reach into his mind and tear away anything that hurt him in the past.

“Because I asked him…” you answered shakily, your fingers curling nervously into your white summer dress, twisting them until you pinched skin and flinched.

“I see.” His voice came out hushed, his eyes stormy as if he looked to the past and saw heartache all over again. You could see it in the way he held himself, fingers flexing, his shoulders hunched over, his back stiff. And your heart broke just thinking of the years that tore his body to shreds.

“And jus’ what did my son say to you?” His voice was deep, but it didn’t come out unkind or aggressive. It was just quiet, almost silenced, like he didn’t want to hear those hurtful words repeated.

“Well, he told me about Sarah and your messy divorce and then your job and…”

“‘Course he did. Always runnin’ his mouth ‘bout private matters that don’t concern anyone else,” he scoffed, shaking his head like he was used to his son always sharing secrets that should’ve been kept under lock and key.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You scooted your body into the back of the wooden rocking chair, making yourself smaller like you had just crossed a line. You shouldn’t have asked Jackson, but you just had to know. You weren’t sure why, but some part of you yearned to know what made this beautiful man so weathered and frayed like his cracked, calloused fingers. It wasn’t any of your business, but you wanted it to be.

“Nah. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize like any of it’s your fault, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” His arm came down on the side of his rocking chair briefly, thick fingers digging absentmindedly into the polished wood. His eyes were long gone into the hazy field ahead of him, the wildflowers gently blowing in the breeze, the oak trees swaying like the shiny pond water that lapped against the lush grass, your heart thundering in your chest with every stolen glance to the broken man who sat right next to you.

You couldn’t help but memorize the shine of his syrupy eyes, dark chocolate irises glowing in the rays of the sun peeking out of the grey clouds. They were so beautiful yet so sad. They deserved to be sparkling. Instead, they were full of turmoil, and that made you feel so empty for some unknown reason.

“Oh, okay then,” you eventually answered after staring way too long at his worn but immaculate face, his calloused fingers still on top of yours, the tip of his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckle like maybe he was trying to commit to memory how your skin felt against his. And just the thought of that had you dripping with sweat on the back of your neck.

“And jus’ Joel,” he replied, pressing his hand deeper against yours.

“What?” you whispered out.

“Jus’ call me Joel, darlin’. That’s my name, after all.” You blinked a few times, your mind reeling at the ask. He already told you to call him Joel once, the first day you met him in the garage, but something about first name basis was dangerous, forbidden. You shouldn’t say his name, shouldn’t call him anything but Mr. Miller, but here you were about to let his name be tattooed on your tongue like it was the only word you knew how to speak.

“Alright. Joel…” you answered cautiously, letting the wing sweep through your messy strands.

After waiting a beat, you spoke again. “Well, the offer still stands. I’ll be here, if you need someone to talk to.”

A gentle smile curled against his mouth slowly and for the first time, you saw the clouds clear fully in his dewy brown eyes.“You’re a pretty fuckin’ special girl, ya know that? Jackson got lucky. Beautiful girl like you deserves the world…” His eyes flicked down to his lap momentarily, but they quickly reverted right back to yours.

“Oh, I’m not… no, I’m not that special,” you laughed, shaking your head like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said to you. You’re nothing special.

“Don’t be modest, sweetheart. Beautiful and special. The perfect combination. Don’t you ever forget it either.” His smile was so genuine. And his eyes, those exquisite brown doe eyes that made your voice shake, were making you forget how to form a coherent thought.

Oh. Beautiful…

“That’s kind of you to say, Joel, but I really don’t think...”

He lifted a rough-edged palm and stopped you right there. “Well, s’true. Don’t take anything less than what you deserve. I mean it when I say if you ever need anything, you come straight to me, darlin’. Wouldn’t ever leave you hangin’.”

His hand slowly reached out, your body completely paralyzed with every steady movement his fingers made. His fingertips brushed against your cheek, leaving scars you’d soon regret ever touched you, but they felt like a fine paintbrush drawing an entire masterpiece with every careful stroke he drew across your skin.

Electricity zapped through the cool air, sending sparks of lightning across every square inch he touched. And his eyes were absolutely sparkling, crystal domes that reminded you of citrine and smoky quartz. And when his fingers traced a loose strand behind the shell of your ear, it was like the world completely stopped, and the only sound you could hear was his slow breaths that smelled like strong coffee and pine trees dancing in the wind.

He was magnetic, and you wanted to burn right there in that little wooden rocking chair until you were nothing but burnt embers in his gentle palms.

Tires treading over gravel broke the intense spell you were under, and Joel’s palm fell from your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth behind in their absence. Both of your eyes were wide and daunting, and you knew you were fucked.

You shouldn’t be out here sitting alone with Joel, but you didn’t really care. He had you hooked, and now you were a baited fish.

“I should probably get back to Jackson,” you said quietly, pushing your shaky body from the rocking chair. The one that Joel had made by hand.

“Yeah, afraid you should,” he murmured in a hushed tone, his dark brown eyes following after you until you turned a corner where his electric stare couldn’t hold yours anymore.

You watched him sigh, his thick fingers curling back over his ceramic coffee cup as his plush lips met the sides. And in that moment, you so desperately wanted to be the dark coffee that caked his tongue in a swirl of various flavors. You wanted to be the sugar that left his body begging for more.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke without thinking it through. A plea to continue the conversations with this dream of a man. “Joel, your ex-wife was stupid to leave you. The way she treated you? You never deserved that. You deserve much better. I just hope you don’t think you were ever the problem because it never sounded like you were.”

Your hand latched onto the handle of the screen door and just as you started pulling it open, his deep voice made you lose your grip, and then the door swung shut with a bang.

“Sweetheart?” he called, craning his neck to look back at you with deep brown eyes.

“Yeah?” You slowly circled around and met those dazzling brown eyes that turned you into mush.

“You sure do know how to light up a room. Bring that pretty smile around here more often. You seem to keep the cloudy skies away.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and for the first time, you felt a heated warmth pull through your entire body, twisting around your veins until his name imprinted a mark on your heart.

Giving him one last smile, you turned and made your way back through the house, back to where you should be. With Jackson. But was that what you really wanted now? You never expected to have a crush on your boyfriend’s fifty-year-old dad, but here you were. Completely and utterly falling for something that should be so forbidden.

As the weeks went by, you found yourself at Joel’s more and more often, finding any excuse to visit or to have Jackson take you there. It started so innocent, so friendly but quickly faded into something that started to smother your insides until you bled Joel entirely.

Mornings became fresh cups of coffee on the back porch as you watched the golden sunrise and talked about life; the evenings you’d spend curled up on the floor, reading a book while he scanned over articles in the newspaper. Sometimes you’d sit on top of his workbench in the garage and watch him work on his truck.

It was the way he completely spilled his soul to you, making you feel alive, a feeling Jackson never could quite reach. Even just being in his warm presence was enough, where you could breathe in his lingering coffee scent, his cologne that smelled like pinewood and cedar trees, the aroma of sandpaper and palms caked in traces of paint that made you completely dizzy.

The small conversations started to not be enough later on; none of it was enough for you anymore. The slow touches became more frequent. Each time he’d walk past you, he’d brush against your shoulder, letting his hand trace against your strands of hair, your back, your hand. And you let it happen because it felt warm, right. And Jackson didn’t even fucking have a clue. Joel was that subtle; Jackson never saw it coming. You didn’t see it coming until that first day in his garage. You knew right then he was something special, and you just couldn’t learn to leave him alone.

Jackson was completely oblivious when the two of you would stay for dinner at Joel’s, not even noticing the lingering glances and the small brushes of knees under the kitchen table. And that’s all it took to fall.

And that first kiss. God, that first fucking kiss. The one that was so earth shattering it felt like you had the world in your hands. You were only supposed to help him with the watermelon in the kitchen, but then he pulled you into his arms, crushing you to his broad chest, and looked at you like no one else ever had before. Like he was completely and utterly in love with you.

You saw flickers of onyx and dark chocolate swirling in your vision, tempting you to jump into the flames. And when his calloused palm traced your cheek softly and he leaned in, you drowned in the flames.

His mouth molded to yours perfectly, shooting sparks of lightning through your bloodstream the way his taste fell like water against your soft lips. And you lapped it all up, committed his coffee taste to memory, even the wafts of spice that drizzled off his slicked back greying locks.

And that was the moment you sold your soul to hades because this calamitous decision would drag you down into the inferno. But you’d burn, never regretting the day his lips fell into yours.

It wasn’t even a one time thing. No. It formed into the most catastrophic, impending decision of your life, but you let it happen anyways. If Jackson was granite then Joel was gold. Impenetrable, unique, beautiful. You just couldn’t let him go.

Hot summer days turned to cool autumn evenings where you spent hours curled up against Joel’s warm chest. The sheets damp, clothes long forgotten, sweaty bodies that burned hot for each other. You forgot all your morals each time his head was between your thighs, his mouth fused to your drenched center, his tongue stroking and lapping up your breath-taking release each time he took you over the edge. And the way his cock stretched you, filling you so full of him, felt like fireworks shooting off inside you. His mouth swallowed your echoing moans with each snap of his hips, his body like a burning furnace that set you ablaze time and time again.

And that first moment he told you he loved you while you were curled up in his lap on the porch swing was magic. He was magic. And god, you loved this man with every fiber of your being.

There were no more cloudy days, no more grey shades threading his body like his tousled curls. No. He was vibrant, alive, and your red shades collided with his blue hues, mixing together to form the prettiest lilac skies you ever did see. And when he weaved his body around yours like a tight string, claiming you as his, entire hurricanes crashed and left your body to float out to sea. But Joel would keep you afloat, even through the pain of losing Jackson.

One day you’d have to tell Jackson, end it, but you had no strength to do that. Neither did Joel. So you were both doomed, damned to burn together in the pits of hell. You’d never forgive yourself for betraying Jackson, but Joel… well, you just couldn’t lose him. So you wouldn’t.

Joel found a way to thread every inch of you to him, sewn into the very essence of his soul as you swirled yourself into his shades of blue.

And then you were nothing but lilac skies.

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #boyfriend’s dad! Joel Miller #bfd!joel #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fic #no outbreak!joel miller #joel tlou #soft!joel miller

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cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

Note

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel one shot #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin adam x reader #adam hazbin #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel x reader #requested #request one shot

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aphroditelovesu · 7 months ago

Text

⸻ The Lost Queen - XIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,325.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 13

Time turned into an indistinct blur, while your breath seemed to freeze in the air. Before you, the man emanated an intimidating aura, his presence filling the small space of the tent with palpable tension. Every detail of his face, sculpted by shadow and dancing light, seemed like a macabre work of art, a mixture of mystery and imminent danger. His dark eyes, deep and penetrating, held yours as if they had the power to probe your soul. And you, paralyzed in front of this spectrum of strength and mystery, could barely utter a single word.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled, watching you with interest shining in his dark eyes. Those words, tinged with a touch of humor, echoed in your ears like a distant echo of a distorted reality. Was he mocking you?

"It's because I'm seeing one." You scoffed, your tone laced with disdain as you stared at him firmly, barely able to contain the fear from spreading through your body. He clicked his tongue in disgust at your tone.

The man looked inside the tent, his interest piqued by the surrounding environment. "You look good." He commented, his voice carrying a casual tone, but his expression still enigmatic and impenetrable.

"Why did you bring me here?" You finally asked, your fists clenching as you stared at the man with disgust and a slight fear shining in your gaze.

"All in good time, my dear." He hummed in response, his relaxed tone contrasting with the tension that hovered between you. He approached you, his imposing presence filling the space between you as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of the uncertainty of what would come next.

"Do not play with me." You spat, your voice filled with suspicion and a hint of suppressed anger.

He arched an eyebrow, a subtle smile dancing on his lips.

"I'm not." He replied seriously, his dark eyes boring into yours with piercing intensity, "I'm not messing with you, sweet girl. Everything I've done has a purpose." His voice echoed in the tent, filled with a conviction you struggled to understand, as the mystery around you seemed to deepen even further.

You felt even more suspicious and uncomfortable with the man's words.

Who was he? Or rather, what was he?

"Who are you?" You finally asked, your jaw clenched in a mix of nervousness and defiance.

"I have several names." He purred in response, a chilling sensation running down your spine as he circled around you like a wary predator, "But you can call me Aslan for now."

Aslan? For now? The name echoed in your mind, loaded with a meaning that you could barely begin to understand.

"What do you want with me?" You frowned, your voice thick with tension and distrust.

“What I want doesn't matter, but what you want does.” He replied calmly, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you uncomfortable.

What do you want?

"Are you mocking me?" You rolled your eyes, frustrated with his evasive answers, "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Aslan." Your words were spoken firmly, a mixture of irritation and determination evident in your voice. You were going to get answers one way or another.

He laughed darkly, and involuntarily, a chill ran down your spine at the laugh that escaped the man's lips.

"Be patient, my dear. I'll explain everything to you, but for now..." He stopped talking when he heard a commotion outside your tent.

''Finish speaking.'' You ordered, your voice firm and determined, demanding answers in the face of the growing intrigue and urgency of the situation.

He smiled, a mysterious gleam dancing in his eyes, "You're learning to act like a Queen."

You looked him straight into his dark eyes, ''I am one.'' Your statement was delivered with unwavering confidence, your identity and position clearly defined, even amidst the confusion and uncertainty that surrounded you.

You were a Queen. You were the Queen of Macedonia, and as strange as that title still sounded in your ears, it felt right when it left your lips.

Aslan smiled widely, his features softening with the confidence of your words, ''You are.'' He confirmed, his voice filled with respect and recognition, as he slowly headed towards the flap of the tent.

''Where are you going? We're not done talking!'' Your words came out in a rush, your gaze narrowing with each step he took towards the exit.

''Duty calls me.'' He sang, his voice filled with mystery and promise, ''But I'll be back soon. We have plenty of time to talk, (Y/N).'' Aslan bowed slightly and left before you could utter another word.

''Aslan...'' You uttered his name, or one of his names in this case, and was strangely pleased with the sweet way it fell from your lips. Why did he look so familiar? Your fingers gripped the hem of your traditional Persian dress, your nails digging into the soft fabric.

You would have the answers soon, you were sure of that. But for now, there was something more pressing to deal with. You needed to meet Darius in person, a meeting that promised to be crucial to your future.

Darius's tent was exactly as you expected it to be: extravagant. Even in the middle of a war camp, the Persian King did not give up his luxuries and comforts.

As you observed the opulence around him, you couldn't help but reflect on how that very extravagance may have been one of the reasons for Darius' downfall. His excessive indulgence and disconnection from the reality of the challenges he faced as a leader may have weakened his rule and undermined his authority among his people and his armies. Vanity and ostentation can be double-edged weapons, especially in times of conflict and political instability.

As you carefully observed Darius and a man who resembled him, your eyes wandered to the king, whose luxurious attire made it clear that he was Darius. You took in every feature of his features: his dark skin glowing in the golden light of the fire, his long black beard that complemented his face firmly. A faint smile curved his lips as you bowed respectfully before him, and his dark eyes softened slightly.

The similarity between Darius' imposing presence and Alexander's was remarkable, and you couldn't help but find it intriguing. Both possessed an enviable charisma, capable of attracting loyal followers and soldiers, even in the face of defeat and adversity. It was as if an aura of authority and leadership surrounded them, inspiring admiration and respect wherever they went. They were similar in that way.

Perhaps it was this magnetic charisma that allowed Darius to maintain a large number of loyal followers and soldiers, even after suffering defeats in battle. His commanding presence and ability to inspire confidence may have been crucial factors in maintaining his power and influence despite the challenges he faced. That was something admirable, and even though he was technically your enemy, you couldn't help but admire those traits.

''It's a pleasure to meet you in person.'' Darius's deep, calming voice sounded in your ears and you nodded slowly, hiding any possible nervousness. He seemed to know how to speak greek and that made you calmer.

"I say the same," You replied calmly, following Darius' lead and settling into a chair reserved for you, "Though it was unpleasant circumstances we found ourselves in." You couldn't help but poke him lightly, after all, he had kidnapped you. The tension between you was palpable, but you were determined to maintain diplomatic composure. You needed to ensure your safety above all else, especially now that you were pregnant.

Instinctively, your hand found its way to your belly, as if trying to protect the baby growing inside you. Darius's gaze followed the movement and rested on your belly, understanding the source of your apprehension.

"Nothing will happen to you or your child." He assured you calmly, his words filled with sincerity and empathy. A feeling of relief spread through you at his assurance, even though tension still permeated the air around you.

The presence of the man who resembled Darius, with malice shining in his eyes, further heightened your sense of unease. As Darius cleared his throat and called a name in Persian that you vaguely recognized as Bagoas, you knew you were looking at an intriguing historical character.

You knew Bagoas's name from contemporary records, which described him as a eunuch who had been the lover of both Darius and Alexander after the conquest of Persia. Your frown at this information was inevitable, and you stared at him as he entered the tent, carrying a jug of wine. Your eyes followed his every movement as he poured the liquid into three cups, and you couldn't help but notice the subtle glance he threw your way before disappearing with silent steps.

Darius took a sip of his wine and the other man did the same. Meanwhile, the wine in front of you remained untouched, as you knew that drinking alcohol during pregnancy was not recommended at all.

The other man finally decided to speak, his rough voice echoing in the tent. The greek that came from his lips was a little difficult to understand, but his words were clear, "We brought you here to negotiate."

Darius stared at the man disapprovingly and sighed, ''That's Bessus.''

Bessus. Uh-huh. This was bad. You knew this man and didn't trust him at all and it seemed like even Darius didn't trust him.

''To negotiate what?'' You raised your eyebrows.

''In exchange for your safety and life, Alexander must abandon the war and return home.'' Bessus replied, drinking his wine with great enthusiasm. You looked at him with disdain evident in your eyes. Did they really think Alexander would give up so easily? They will be fools then.

The idea that Alexander would give up so easily was absurd, and those who believed it were mistaken. Alexander was a formidable leader, determined to pursue his goals with fierce determination, and you knew he would never abandon the war without fighting until his last breath. He would rather die fighting than return as a coward.

"Alexander won't give up." You replied firmly, your voice thick with conviction, "He never will."

Bessus's expression was disdainful as he arched his eyebrow, "Not even for his beloved pregnant wife?"

You fought the urge to punch Bessus at his taunts and replied dryly, "Alexander will destroy the world for me, and you made a huge mistake by bringing me here."

There was a certain arrogance in your voice, but it was the truth. You knew the destructive power Alexander was capable of inflicting when provoked, and those who dared to defy him were playing with fire.

You remembered the stories about what he did to his enemies, to those who dared to cross his path or take what was his. His revenge was swift and merciless, sending a clear message to all those who dared defy him: there was no mercy for traitors and invaders. Darius and Bessus were in hot water when they decided to kidnap you.

''Let's talk, shall we?'' Darius interrupted the conversation between you and Bessus, sensing the animosity between you.

You nodded, even though you knew this conversation wouldn't get you anywhere. Their situation was complicated, and it seemed like they were about to face the consequences of their actions.

Every action has a reaction, right?

"My wife is not here?" Alexander's voice was low, but his fury resonated clearly in every word, his clenched fists denoting his intense emotion.

The generals present, Hephaestion and Ptolemy, seemed worried and fearful of the king's wrath. Finally, Hephaestion decided to take the lead, his expression carefully controlled to avoid further provoking Alexander's explosive reaction.

"She is not here." He said with the greatest caution he could have at that moment, his words chosen precisely to convey the truth without triggering an even more violent reaction from the King. The tension in the air was palpable, as everyone awaited Alexander's next response and the consequences that could follow.

"She's not here.'' Alexander repeated, his voice sounding louder, reverberating through the room. Ptolemy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of responsibility in deciding to speak,

"(Y/N)'s guards said they didn't find her in her tent when they woke up.'' He stated, holding Alexander's menacing gaze as long as he could, his expression showing both concern and determination.

Finally, the King snapped. His fists hit the poor makeshift table hard, causing it to fall with a deafening crash. Hephaestion fought the urge to shudder at Alexander's display of fury.

"So where is she?" Alexander asked, his voice filled with anger and despair, staring intensely at his two friends, "WHERE IS SHE?" The last question was shouted, echoing off the walls of the room and reverberating in the minds of everyone present. The tension reached its peak, as everyone awaited the answer with a mixture of apprehension and fear for what could happen next.

"W-We don't know!" Ptolemy was quick to say, fearing for his life, his words flowing in a torrent of fear. "We've done a thorough search of the entire camp and surrounding area, but there's no trace of her. It's as if she's disappeared."

"People don't disappear out of thin air." Alexander sneered, his penetrating and suspicious gaze scanning every detail of his generals' faces. His blue eye narrowed, emanating an intensity that made it clear he would not accept evasive answers or excuses.

Hephaestion decided to speak to try to help calm his friend, aware of the urgency of providing any information that could help or worsen the situation.

"According to the guards stationed at her tent, they were knocked out and the Queen was gone." He reported, his voice firm but filled with concern.

Alexander looked his friend in the eyes, his expression a mixture of anger and grim determination, "Who took her?" His question was uttered with increasing urgency, indicating that he would not rest until he found answers and brought his wife back safely.

Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a heavy look of mutual significance. They knew Alexander wouldn't take this information very well. Betrayal was never something he dealt with easily, especially when it came from such a dear friend.

Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for the coming storm, Hephaestion took the lead once again.

"Perdiccas." He said, his voice heavy with the weight of revelation as he faced Alexander's furious gaze. The words hung in the air, loaded with inevitable consequences, while everyone awaited the King's explosive reaction to the betrayal of one of his closest confidants.

"Perdiccas.'' Alexander repeated the name carefully, feeling a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.

Perdiccas.

His childhood friend, his trusted general, now revealed himself as the traitor who had kidnapped his wife. The reality of the situation hit Alexander with devastating force, a mixture of disbelief and fury boiling inside him. How could someone he trusted so deeply betray like this?

The feeling of betrayal pierced his heart like a sharp blade, leaving him furious and determined to carry out the worst punishment, torture known to man.

The fury building inside Alexander was like an uncontrolled hurricane, a primal force that threatened to devour everything in its path. His vision turned red, his mind flooded with images of violence and revenge. All he could see was a pool of blood and a cruelly mutilated body in the middle of it. Perdiccas' body.

He wanted revenge, revenge as brutal and painful as the betrayal he had experienced. The pain of being betrayed like that tore him apart, consuming him with an overwhelming rage that threatened to swallow him whole.

The idea of killing Perdiccas slowly and painfully took root in his mind like an obsession. He imagined every macabre detail, every torment he would inflict on the traitor, fueled by the relentless thirst to recover what belonged to him and the unbearable pain of betrayal.

With a herculean effort to contain his burning fury, Alexander finally managed to muster the strength to ask, "Where did he take her?"

"We don't know yet." Ptolemy replied, his eyes fixed on Alexander as he carefully assessed the King's reaction.

The answer seemed to echo in the room, filled with tension and uncertainty. Alexander was strangely restrained, his expression too controlled for the tastes of those present. This was worrying. Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a quick glance, sharing their silent apprehension at what might come next. The approaching storm was invisible, but the tension in the air was palpable, foreshadowing a series of events that could change the course of history.

With palpable determination, Alexander finally made a decision. He stared at the broken table, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and resolve.

"Send all available men to search for any possible information." He ordered firmly, "Spread the news and whoever brings me information about my wife's whereabouts will receive a generous reward."

Ptolemy nodded in understanding and hurriedly left the tent, leaving Hephaestion and Alexander alone in the silent wreckage. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but beneath this layer of anger and worry, there was an unwavering determination that guided Alexander's every action. He was determined to find his wife, no matter the cost.

Hephaestion carefully approached Alexander, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Alexander did not react immediately, his mind still absorbed in turbulent and bloody thoughts.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion's voice sounded gentle and calming, seeking to draw his friend's attention to the present.

"Hephaestion," Alexander replied carefully, his voice filled with determination and a focused intensity, "I want Perdiccas to be brought to me alive."

Hephaestion nodded silently, even though he knew Alexander wasn't looking directly at him. He perfectly understood the implicit meaning behind the order to bring Perdiccas alive.

Even without being asked, Alexander continued, his voice filled with determination and a calculated coldness, "I want to interrogate him personally, ask him why he betrayed me and stole my wife. And then, personally, I will torture him and kill him." The words were delivered with icy calm, but there was no doubt that each one carried a deadly weight.

Alexander's determination was unwavering, his mind focused on just one goal: getting his wife back, no matter the cost. He was willing to throw all of his power and destructive force against any obstacle that he dared to stand in his way.

Cities would fall, armies would be torn to pieces, and populations would be subjugated. Men would be killed, while women and children would be taken into slavery, all in the name of desperately searching for his beloved Queen. Alexander did not care about the human or moral cost of his actions; his fiery fury eclipsed any consideration of compassion or mercy.

The entire world would tremble at Alexander's wrath, for he was determined to leave a trail of destruction in his wake towards those who dared to defy him and take away what was most precious to him. His journey would be marked by blood, pain and suffering, but he would not rest until his wife was safe in his arms again, no matter what the cost.

He would recover his Lost Queen.

— lady l: And things get more and more complicated for the Persians, don't they? Poor things, they thought it was a good idea to steal a yandere's wife. There wasn't one to warn you, right?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I changed my writing style a little and I hope this pleases you. Feel free to send your feedback and I'll see you in the next chapter! Love you all!! ❤️

#the lost queen #tq #yandere history #history #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #fanfic #long fic #yandere au #yandere historical characters

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helluvaoutlaw · 7 months ago

Text

Gimme Shelter

((( Warning: The song Striker is singing in this post contains sensitive content. )))

Under the dim, smoky lights of the Sugar Buzzed club, Striker stood on the small, worn stage, gripping his electric guitar. Usually filled with vibrant neon hues, the club had dimmed its lights tonight to recreate a Wrathian country blues atmosphere. The crowd, a mix of regulars and curious newcomers, buzzed with anticipation. Striker's outfit was a blend of vintage charm and rugged style:

Brown trousers, black suspenders, an old mauve-colored shirt with its sleeves rolled up, and a black vest that completed the ensemble. He was enjoying a cigar while arranging his guitar and giving time to the other musicians to prepare themselves.

The two Hellhound vocalists (recommended by Queen Bee herself), were more than excited to perform with him, given the two girls were giggling and whispering to each other, probably commenting his physique.

He adjusted the microphone stand, its metal frame barely reflecting the subdued glow. The club’s atmosphere was thick with the scent of spilled drinks and the low hum of conversation.

He drew one last smoke from the cigar, before putting it out in a metal ashtray.

The cowboy nodded at the rest of the group, before starting to play.

Striker's fingers danced across the guitar strings, coaxing out a raw, soulful riff that immediately quieted the crowd.

"Ooooh, a storm is threat'ning

Myyy very life today

If I don't get some shelter,

Ooh yeah, I'm gonna fade away...

Waaar, children,

it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Waaar, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away."

His voice, deep and gritty, cut through the room as he began to sing a blues rock tune, each word dripping with emotion and authenticity.

"Ooooh, see the fire is sweepin'

Myyy very street today

Buuurns like a red coal carpet,

Mad bull lost its way...

Waaar, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

Waaar, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away..."

The guitar came alive, electrifying the room. Striker's skills were evident in every note, his fingers moving with precision and passion.

"Look out!

Raaaape, murder!

It's just a shot away

Raaaape, murder!

It's just a shot away

Raaaape, murder!

It's just a shot away

It's just a shot away..."

The crowd swayed and nodded, some with eyes closed, lost in the music. The rhythm section backed him with a steady, driving beat that resonated in the chest of every listener.

The vocalists were doing a splendid job, enhancing the feeling of the song with their honeyed voices.

"Ooooh the floods is threat'ning

Myyy very life today

Gimme, gimme shelter!

Or I'm gonna fade away..."

Striker’s performance was a blend of raw talent and heartfelt emotion, the kind that left an indelible mark on everyone present.

True, the song wasn't exactly a cheerful one, but he didn't care. They came to feel the true Wrathian spirit tonight, which was anything but sweet and joyful.

It was crude, merciless and painful, delivering the harsh truth of life.

"Waaar, children, it's just a shot away

It's just a shot away

I tell you love, sister,

it's just a kiss away

It's just a kiss away

Kiss away, kiss away..."

His voice rose and fell, his eyes closed as he sang every lyric with ardor, his mind miles away.

As the final notes echoed through the club, the audience erupted into applause, the sound filling the small space with a wave of appreciation.

Striker grinned, nodded, and thanked the public, letting the band to take care of providing ambience music as he left the stage to get a drink.

He would've sang again a bit later, but for now he just wanted to enjoy a glass of bourbon.

(((Song: )))

youtube

(((Art belongs to: )))

#helluva outlaw #helluva boss #striker #ask blog #helluva striker #rp #Youtube

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 7 months ago

Text

chapter two: making amends

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

warnings: language, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of past bullying, heavy descriptions of food and eating

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

A/N: chapter two is here! if you're enjoying pls reblog / like / comment and let me know!! also comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER ONE: THE BOLTER

For the next month or so, you do your best to avoid him, even though you ache for him to walk past the infirmary and every time he magically appears like you’ve wished, bruised up from sparring or a cut from cooking, you ignore him.

The second he walks in, you try your best to look busy, or send him off with a quick Bandaid. The injuries he comes in with are never anything serious, and you wonder who he’s here for. Even when another nurse tends to him, you can feel his eyes run down your spine, like you’re the object of his desires.

It’s so hard to keep yourself away, to deny it when you feel him staring at you like a heavy weight on your back, especially when it creates such a chasm in your chest to turn him away. But he keeps coming back, and your resolve keeps waning and waxing like the crescent moon.

It’s one such instance when you’re restocking the medical supplies like bandages and syringes, when Bucky creeps up on you, as you hum away to whatever song is stuck in your head. The infirmary is completely empty at this point, everyone retiring for the night seeing as there are currently no missions for any of the squad. As Head Nurse, you keep yourself in charge of supplies, diligently noting all the numbers by hand even when FRIDAY can do it for you just as well.

“Hey.” He breathes, you name entangled in the exhalation. You jump out of your skin, turning around and dropping the large box of gauze you hold, tiny plastic packets ricocheting off the floor. He’s leaning on the doorframe, but immediately pushes himself off, extending both hands toward you, as if to show you he’s unarmed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His adorable face twists in concern, and when your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you let out a shaky laugh.

“It’s okay, James. I just thought I was all alone in here, and I didn’t hear you come in.” You kneel on the floor and start gathering the spilled items back on the floor, and he crouches to help you. Your hand brushes his vibranium one, and you pull away from the spark of electricity that jolts up your spine, but unbeknownst to you, Bucky reads the entire situation quite differently.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Your eyes flit up and meet his, the look in them indiscernible. What could he possibly want to talk to you about? You find yourself getting lost, stranded in the sea hues of his irises, and you stand up.

“To me? What about?” He too rises, and the height difference between you and him makes you swallow a gasp, marvelling at how much bigger he is than you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asks, staring down at his hands facing palms up, his tone so soft it moves you. The space between your bodies has never felt bigger, and you itch to close it.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?” You take a step in his direction, silently begging him to meet your eyes, no matter how distracting they are.

“Of my past. Are you sure? Not even a little?” You immediately pick up what he’s putting down, what the forlorn look in his eyes is referring to.

“No,” you assure him firmly, “I wouldn’t be scared of you for that. That wasn’t you. I— I don’t want to bring it up, but…you were used as a vessel for horrible evil. But that doesn’t mean you did it. That’s not who you are, James. Steve loves you, you guys have saved the world time and time again. He trusts you, so does everyone else in this building. Why would I be scared of that?” You tilt your head, searching his startled expression.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He takes another step towards you, and all of a sudden it’s too short a distance and you take a step back, spine crashing against the shelves and in your haste almost miss the tortured look that paints across his features for a split second.

“I—um…You called me really pretty.” You decide to be truthful. He clearly didn’t expect those words to leave your mouth

“So you skip dinner?”

“What? I…I don’t skip. I just don’t like eating in front of people, and I’m quite busy. You know, being a nurse and all.” Your heart catches in your throat at the fact that maybe he’s figured you out. And it’s true, you don’t attend dinner with the rest of people in your building, and it really is because you don’t like eating in the presence of other people. But… he doesn’t need to know the rest.

“Sure. All three times a day?” You nod, unable to speak as your cheeks light themselves on fire.

“Oh, come on, just admit it. You’re afraid of me.” He lunges at you, but you don’t move. It’s not him you’re afraid of, just of how he makes you feel. You can’t explain that, it would just be embarrassing.

“I’m not. I already told you.” He’s so close it’s hard to focus when you can smell him and it makes your eyes erratically flutter at just how fucking good his cologne smells, stimulating pretty much all of your sense as you try to hold his gaze.

Has the colour blue always been so consuming?

“Then why is it that every time I come down here, you do everything in your power to avoid me, or to send me back as quick as humanly possible?” He cradles your head in his human hand, and the warmth radiating off of his body makes you melt.

“You called me pretty.” You repeat. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

The silence is deafening and you watch the gears in his pretty head turn as he formulates a reply. “I wasn’t. I meant it— I mean it.” You huff out a laugh, shaking it off. “Really, I wasn’t joking, or making fun of you. I mean it, I do think you’re really pretty. Respectfully.” The mild internet reference coaxes a smile out of you.

“Okay.”

“Come with me. I want to do something with you.” You blink at him incredulously and silently nod, and he grins and takes your hand. You try to not stumble over yourself at the way he’s touching you, or the way he looks when he smiles as he drags you to the kitchen.

It’s quite late at night, and it seems everyone is asleep. “Everyone’s off to do karaoke, or drinks or something. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” You tug at your sleeves as he fiddles with something on the ridiculously large stove unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“You’re not a fan of large crowds, are you? Me neither. It’s always too loud and hot everywhere —Guess I’m just not like other girls.” He laughs at that, and you smile, the sardonic joke landing exactly as you intended.

When Bucky turns around, he’s holding two plates of food. “Now, apparently there’s this one really popular show I haven’t watched, I was wondering if you wanted to with me?” You stare at him, stomach grumbling at an embarrassing volume.

“Depends on what show it is.”

“I don’t really remember. It was supposed to be funny? Sam recommended it to me, it’s called Annabelle. Apparently, it’s about a girl and her doll?” A laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

“Is Sam already back to his tricks? James, Annabelle is a horror movie franchise where the main premise is some evil demon possesses a doll and wreaks havoc on whoever has it. It’s not funny, but you can laugh at it. Some of the VFX are horrible, and the jumpscares are cheap.”

“BFX?” He tilts his head to the side as you approach him, smiling at his childlike innocence.

“VFX. It stands for Visual effects, I’m pretty sure.” He processes your words, eyebrows furrowed so cutely you could cry and try to smooth it with your thumb.

“Oh. Well in that case you can choose. You like burgers, right? I asked FRIDAY what your go-to meal is, and she said you like them. I hope you don’t mind, I made them how I used to, before the world went to shit.” He offers you a meek smile, extending one plate to you, loaded to high heaven with fries that make your mouth water by smell alone. You take the plate, a beautiful sage green decorated with artistic splatters of darker hues, unable to say no.

“Oh. Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to do this, though.” You don’t look up to meet his eyes, too scared of what emotions dwell in them. He wishes you would though, wishes you would look at him longer than in five second bursts.

“I did. I thought maybe you’d like me a little more,” he chuckles ever so sadly and you finally grant him his secret wish. “What? I do like you, but just… we’ve already discussed it, and unfortunately the only time I’d see you is during meals. It’s not you, James. It’s me.” You move to sit down on the comfortable black couch situated in front of the ostentatiously massive TV screen, waiting for Bucky to join you.

“Then why do you call me James?” He sits awfully close to you, but you don’t mind. Not when it’s cold and he’s so warm. He stares down at you, once again silently begging you to meet his gaze.

“Your third day here, one trainee tried calling you Bucky. You berated him to high heaven and gave him a beating to match. He told me you don’t like people who aren’t close to you calling you Bucky. I don’t think I could survive a beating like that, to be honest.” You laugh, slowly beginning to eat, not worried for half a minute on his thoughts on the matter. He seems more focused on your words.

“You can call me Bucky, if you want. I don’t mind. You’re not a trainee, you’re the Head Nurse of this place, doll. Who would I be to deny the very woman who’ll patch me up the second I get a scratch?” He begins to dig into his food too, and to your joy, you’re not the one eating the most. Not that you’d shame him for it, how on Earth could you when you’ve been on the receiving end of it? But it’s nice to sit with someone who definitely won’t judge you.

“Okay…Bucky.” He smiles at you, bright and dazzling and you’re fucked. Completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #x plus size reader #marvel

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