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deepcreekvultures-writing · 5 months ago

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"Stellar Collision"

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: Mild injury, Description of injury, Smut, Fingering (F receiving), Penetrative Sex, Using Astronomy as a Plot Device

A/N: Please ignore any inaccuracies with the scientific stuff and the smut- I'm just silly and Asexual. I picture this as late season 4 Spencer, but you can picture whatever Spencer you want bbg.

Summary: Everyone knows you and Spencer Reid work well together- actually, the entire team thinks you two are the most oblivious profilers to ever work for the FBI, but c'est la vie- they figure you'll crash into each other eventually.

=======

Shaking the hand of the lead detective you introduce yourself before gesturing to Spencer who hovers behind you, “... and this is Agent Weirdly Sticky, a.k.a. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer’s face scrunches in an odd fusion of disgust, confusion, and amusement. He fights off the laugh that bubbles up and just lifts his hand in an awkward wave. Pressing his lips into a thin line to avoid the smile threatening to break out on his face. JJ elbows you in the ribs, earning a small ‘oomph’ as she pushes you aside.

It had become routine at this point, calling him weird names to break the tension between the team and locals. Spencer’s hands rest on your shoulders to steady you as JJ takes over the conversation. You chuckle, following an officer into the precinct conference room to get everything set up. Hotch doesn’t say anything about your antics for once, resigning to just accept that there was no stopping you.

“You really need to stop doing that, they’re going to think you don’t take things seriously.” Spencer mutters to you quietly, his hip lightly bumping into yours as the two of you stick photos onto the provided whiteboard.

“Yeah, maybe, but their face is worth it. It’s like they think federal agents can’t joke, so at first they believe me.” You giggle, sliding your hand around his waist, unceremoniously picking him up and pivoting him around you. You swap places with him quickly to tack a few pieces of evidence to the board.

Spencer lets it happen, not offering any help as you move him. Not that you need it, you were more than strong enough. “But “Agent Weirdly Sticky”? They’re going to think I don’t shower or something.”

You laugh, “At least they won’t try and touch you.” Looking at the board, you tilt your head a little. “The handwriting in each of these is so similar but look-” You point at two series of numbers, “one writes their seven with a dash, and the other doesn’t.”

Spencer leans forward to look at it, his eyes squinting as his mouth drops open in focus.

“I swear you need to start wearing your glasses again.” You snort, reaching out and placing your fingers under his chin to push his jaw closed.

He bats your hand away, “Glasses obstruct my peripherals.”

“But you look cute with them.” You argue, sliding to stand behind him, “I miss them.”

Flattening your hands, you place them on either side of his head, blocking his peripherals. He ignores you, trying to focus on the pages in front of him rather than the warmth radiating off of your palms. Only moving when his phone rings, you drop them on his shoulders, turning him a little so you could grab his phone from his front pocket.

“Hey Garcia, what’s up?” You greet, “...yeah, it’s me, what do you have for us?”

The investigation continues like that, the two of you revolving around each other, splitting up only when necessary, bouncing profiles off of the other.

Everyone knew you worked well together. Spencer was comfortable around you, not as stiff and one track minded as he would be working alone. He turned to you for most things, and sometimes when working through things in his mind he would just stare at you- Managing to find most of his answers in the curve of your nose and the color of your lips.

You mellowed out around Spencer, his ramblings filling empty spaces almost like a living white noise machine. It was hard for most people to believe how abrasive and short fused you could be working alone. Irritation ran rampant with local PD getting in the way, suspects being difficult, media running with half baked stories; whenever the tension in your jaw threatened to spring into a full on rage, Spencer was always there.

“You’re telling me you released the profile to the press even though we specifically told you not to?” Your eyebrows raise, hands pushing your sleeves up to your elbows.

“The public needs to know what they’re dealing with.” The detective crosses his arms over his chest, lifting his chin in challenge.

“Yeah? Well now our Unsub knows exactly what to change to avoid us, this guy is smart and he is watching.” Your voice raises slightly, shoulders squaring as you step chest to chest with the man. “From this point on, you release nothing to the press without approval from our Liaison or SSA Hotchner.”

The detective snorts, shaking his head, “Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?”

Spencer instinctively reaches out, hooking his finger around your belt loop. He tugs you backwards, putting space between you and the focal point of your mounting rage. You don’t relax, but you let him pull you back.

“I’m the woman who’s gonna punch a hole through your spinal cord.” Your tone is icy, and he can almost hear your jaw pop from how hard you’re clenching your teeth. Spencer keeps his finger hooked on your belt loop, cringing slightly at the threat.

It’s not that he disagrees with you, it was out of line for them to release a statement to the public without the team’s permission; and it’s not that he thinks you can’t back up your statement, he is well aware that you can. Spencer just didn’t want you to get suspended for assaulting an officer. Again.

Hotch approaches, stepping between you and the detective, and- to your relief- backs you up.

“If you release anything more to the public you can consider that little boy as good as gone. If you want us to be able to catch the unsub before it’s too late, it’ll do you well to listen to my agents.” His sharp gaze lingers on the man’s face before he turns to you, “Go cool off, and stop threatening people.”

You nod and turn to leave, missing the small tilt of Hotch’s head, gesturing for Spencer to go with. He obliges, quickly rushing after you.

Pacing around in the conference room, you keep your arms folded, chewing on the nail of your thumb.

“Sit.” Spencer pulls out one of the chairs, and you follow his instruction. Having gone through this routine again and again, you move a few stacks of papers, opening up a space for him to sit on the table’s glossy surface.

“I was reading up on star systems, and typically stars will orbit around each other in small or large groups- but most are trinary with only three stars…” Spencer hops up onto the table, crossing his legs under himself. He settles into his position, leaning his arms on his legs as he watches your face.

He can tell by the way your head tilts that you’re listening, unconsciously bringing your ear closer to him. Folding your arms across your chest again, you roll your jaw to relieve the tension from the joint. He pays attention to your demeanor, watching the pressure between your eyes melt away. Crossing your legs, you tilt your hips, turning your body to face him though your gaze stays cast to the floor. Spencer responds by unfolding his legs, stretching them out to rest his feet on the apex of your thigh.

Hands finding their way to the laces of his converse, you untie and retie them as his melodic droning fills the room. You keep yourself from looking at him, wanting to hold onto your anger for just a little longer. Spencer knows that you would’ve stewed in your fury for hours alone- and it seemed that Hotch knew the same.

“... but then you have star systems that are just two stars- a binary system. The Sirius star system is the most well known, but Sirius A is a lot bigger than Sirius B. Sirius B is a white dwarf- which has around the same mass as our sun but condensed into a star not much bigger than the earth.”

“Without the extra gravity from another star like in trinary systems… Do binary stars collide a lot?” You ask and Spencer beams, happy that you were finally relaxed enough to fully engage.

“Actually, it’s pretty rare for them to collide. They stay stable for the most part, but when they do collide it’s most likely due to their stability being thrown off by the exchange of mass or gravitational radiation.” Unlacing his left shoe fully, you replace them upside down, tying the bow at the toe of his converse. He expected you to do the same with the other shoe, but you leave it asymmetrical.

Lifting your gaze from his shoes, your eyes settle on his face. Spencer chews on his bottom lip, looking for any underlying stress in your features. He finds none.

“So, when a stellar collision occurs, the way it reacts depends on what kind of stars were involved in the collision. Like, if it was a set of white dwarfs, the gravitational radiation would cause them to spiral inwards and-”

Spencer is cut off by JJ poking her head in the room, “Hey, the unsub responded to the statement they released.”

You sigh, “Come on, Gorgeous, you can tell me more later.” pushing Spencer’s feet off of you before standing. You lead the way out of the conference room. As he follows, he tries to ignore the way his face warms when you call him gorgeous. He knew it was stupid to focus on your little nicknames- you use them often enough that he should be used to it by now- but his heart flutters all the same.

Spencer stands at your side, his slender fingers finding their way back around your belt loop. He didn’t think you would do anything, but local cops could be unpredictable.

A few feet away, Emily leans over to Morgan, “So how long have they been dating?” She asks.

Morgan looks at her, quirking an eyebrow, “Who?”

“Reid and his attack dog, duh.” She points to the two agents attached at the hip next to JJ. Morgan snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

“They’re not,” He shrugs, laughing when Emily’s head snaps to look at him, “I know- I know, we like to say they are, they just don’t know it yet.”

Emily looks back at the two of you, noting how you lean back into him. Your head tilts up and you whisper in his ear, motioning to whatever the unsub had sent loosely. “You’re kidding…”

“I wish I was,” Derek shakes his head, moving to place his hands on his hips, “you’re looking at a four year relationship between the two most oblivious profilers in the FBI.”

The entire team has thought the two of you were dating at some point- even Gideon before he left. In the beginning, Hotch came to the conclusion that the two of you lived together and got into the habit of only calling one on the assumption that you would arrive together. And you did. Always.

With the unsubs response, you and Spencer manage to put together a solid lead to who exactly you’re looking for. You hand the letter to Spencer, and break away to call Garcia- still with Spencer’s phone.

Garcia locates the unsub and the team hits the road. After securing your own bulletproof vest, you approach Spencer. Undoing the velcro on the sides of his vest to redo them. The velcro ripping apart is loud, drawing the attention of Rossi. He makes a face, looking over at Hotch and Derek who shrug in response.

You make sure they’re snug, sliding your hands along the curve of his waist. Moving on to the straps over his shoulders, your face scrunches a little in focus. Your hands are warm, radiating their heat onto the skin of his neck. Spencer watches you, your lips parted slightly, the tip of your tongue fitted between your teeth. You shimmy the vest, eyes roving over his torso to make sure there were no loose points.

Satisfied, you pat the FBI emblem on his chest, turning away without a word.

As the team approaches the house, you enter ahead of him. Moving methodically through the hallways, indicating clear rooms through your intercom. You enter the garage slowly, Spencer following closely behind you.

“FBI, drop the gun and show me your hands!” You have your gun on the unsub, expression stone cold. The man huffs, sweat dripping from his nose and he switches between pointing the barrel of his hand gun at you or Spencer. He seems to settle on the latter and you step forward, rushing the unsub who in turn shoots.

Spencer expects impact, but it doesn’t find him. Instead, coupled with the dull ringing in his ears from the shot, he can hear the crack of the man’s nose as the butt of your pistol slams into it. You gently push the little boy the unsub was holding towards Spencer, who cradles him to his chest.

“We have the kid- garage.” He can hear you gasp into your intercom, the breath knocked from your lungs at the impact of the bullet. Slamming the unsub into the concrete and cuffing him, you attempt to take in air. The grimace on your face isn’t from rage, he can tell that much, the tension is sat in your throat rather than your jaw.

Once the man is cuffed beneath you, your knee holding his arms in place as he squirms, you huff. Long, drawn out, breaths are pulled into your lungs. Expanding them slowly as you feel the searing, white hot, tendrils of pain erupting from the base of your ribcage.

===

“I’m fine,” You assure him for the fifth time since the team got back to the precinct. He goes to say something, but you hold up your hand, your finger pushing against his forehead, “Yes. I promise.”

“But-” He grabs your wrist, “but, even if you were shot in the “bulletproof” vest, the vest isn’t actually bulletproof. You could have bruised or cracked ribs, internal bleeding, even organ damage-”

Wiggling your arm out of his grip, you slap a hand over his mouth, “I got checked out by the paramedics, I’m fine.” He grumbles but nods, his eyes soft as he silently pouts. “Perfect, now go pack up your stuff.”

He slinks away, still pouting. Packing up the things in the conference room slowly, his worry plaguing his demeanor. You frown as you watch him. Making Spencer upset was the last thing you wanted to do.

Morgan slides up next to you, “Hey there rockstar, I know you’re just trying to reassure him. How is it really?”

Sighing, you rub a hand over your face, “He shot me at close range, the bullet pierced through and I’ve got the most wicked bruise and it hurts to breathe- but I’m definitely not telling him that.”

Morgan laughs, his eyebrows raised in concern. “You know he just worries, let him take care of you.” He pats your shoulder in support, stalking away as Spencer comes back, bag slung over his shoulder.

Landing back in Quantico, Spencer finds his way into your car- something he had taken a liking to. You were a good driver, and Spencer didn’t really like driving all that much. Having to focus on so many things means that he can’t talk as much as he wants to. But he sinks comfortably into the passenger seat of your car. His shoulders drooping as he leans his head back on the head rest.

He tucks his duffel under his legs, relishing in the leg room your car offered. Since he was the only one who really rode with you he had the seat set how he liked.

“Are you gonna finish your rant about stellar collisions?” You ask, your voice soft as it carries over the sound of the car’s A/C. He turns his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. You laugh, “You were explaining what would happen if two white dwarfs crashed into each other. Are you sure about that eidetic memory thing?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, but he straightens up in his seat, taking a second to remember where he left off.

“So, the two white dwarves would emit gravitational radiation, or waves, which would cause their orbit to become unstable- which would in turn cause the stars to spiral into each other,” He uses his hands as a model, “and once they collide, the force causes carbon fusion to ignite. White dwarfs are basically dead stars that no longer support fusions, but the fusion is re-ignited by the merge.”

You nod along, turning into the parking lot of your apartment building. Spencer is confused, usually you would drop him off first, but he decides to keep his question to himself, “And since the dwarfs are made up of that degenerate matter, the equilibrium needed to keep the merge stable is pretty much non-existent. So the thermal pressure combined with the unstable weight of them crashing into each other causes a full blown supernova.”

“Supernova, huh? That’s pretty cool.” You grin, putting the car in park. You turn your head to look at him, and he stays silent. A soft smile rests on his face, and he takes the time to memorize the way the warm lighting of the street lamp shines on your soft features.

You turn off the car, pocketing your keys as you open the car door, “I need your help with something really quick, then I’ll drop you off at home, okay?”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He gets out of the car, mindlessly grabbing his bag as he rushes to catch up with you. Unlocking your ground floor apartment, Spencer shuffles in after you. He kicks off his shoes, nudging them into a neat position with his foot before placing his bag next to them.

You shrug off your jacket, hissing lightly as you slowly stretch your arms over your head. Motioning with a small tilt of your head, you lead him further into your apartment, flicking on a few lights as you do.

After all these years of knowing you, Spencer hadn’t been to your apartment much. He liked how homey it felt, dark wood furniture scattered around neatly, warm lighting, and a little clutter here and there. It was very you.

Opening the door to your bedroom, you usher him inside. Your hand was on his lower back to guide him, “Chill out, Pancake, I just need you to help me change my bandage.” You chuckle, pushing him a little firmer as he hesitates. You separate from him to grab the first aid kit from your bathroom, setting it down on the mattress when you return.

“I thought you said you were fine?” He asks, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows a little.

“I am, but I might’ve just told you that because I didn’t want you worrying.” Your confession frustrates him and he crosses his arms, “Don’t look at me like that you Grackle, just help me out, please?”

Spencer nods, dropping his hands at his sides, stuffing them into his pockets. He watches as you shuffle through the contents of your first aid kit. His hand mindlessly lifts to scratch at the inner part of his right elbow. Without looking away from your task, you reach one of your hands behind you. Gently hooking your fingers around his, you push his hand away.

“Okay, so, it definitely looks worse than it is.” You warn, turning to him. Before he can ask what you mean, you start unbuttoning your shirt. His head snaps to look away, the tense joint in his neck cracking at the force.

His cheeks warm, his hands coming up to fiddle with his tie. Keeping his eyes averted, he wills himself to stop thinking all together. All trains of thought chug their way back to you, your face, your lips, your bare torso- he has to stop thinking. Blank. Blankness.

“Uh, if you’re gonna help me I kinda need you to look,” You chuckle awkwardly. He slowly turns his head, feeling like his head is sitting atop a stack of rusty gears. To both his relief and utter disappointment, you were wearing a tanktop. He doesn’t have time to decide if he should choose between the two, you shrug off the button up before quickly pulling the tank top over your head.

Spencer was afraid he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from your chest, clad in a black bra, but his eyes were immediately drawn lower. At the base of your ribcage sits a large mass of purple and red splotchy skin spreading out from underneath a bloodied bandage. His mouth falls open when he sees it, his eyes flicking between your face and the bruising over and over.

“Like I said,” you raise your hands, “It looks worse than it is. The bullet pierced through the vest a little and it hit skin.”

“What? Do you have any broken ribs, any organ damage, what if you’re bleeding internally?” He rushes, his hand cupping the curve of your ribs. His thumb grazes over the edge of the bandage.

Tensing at his touch, you respond swiftly, “I have a broken rib, a few fractures and a ton of bruising. The ribs took the brunt of the force, no organ damage.”

“That you know of-”

You shush him, placing your hand over his. His fingers were warm against your bare skin. Making no move to remove his hand fully, you gently slide his hand lower to rest in the dip of your waist. He lets out a shuddering breath, briefly distracted by the softness of your side.

Peeling back the bandage, you wince, swallowing the hiss bubbling at the back of your throat. The center of the impact was so red it looked black, the dark purple skin surrounding it giving the illusion of a black hole. Reminding himself of what exactly he was here for, Spencer sits on your bed, guiding you by your waist to stand between his legs.

He gets to work, gingerly removing his hand from your side to grab the contents of your kit. Working silently, he focuses on being as gentle as possible while also assessing the damage. His eyes squint softly, his jaw hanging open as he disinfects it. You watch him, your head tilted downwards, noting every small mole or freckle you can as you try to ignore the burning ache in your abdomen- both physically and metaphorically.

Having him this close was supposed to be the norm, right? The two of you had been closer than anyone on the team for almost 5 years. But your heart pools into your stomach, settling itself in your wound. Just for the chance to be cared for by his hands.

Spencer’s hands, warm and lightly calloused, slide along your ribs as softly as he can manage. His long, slender fingers, guiding a new bandage into place.

You had never considered that Dr. Spencer Reid would ever return your simmering feelings. Sure, he went along with your teasing, let you manhandle him, calmed you down, turned to you for everything, cried on your shoulder, comforted you. But that was just him, right? He was like that with everyone… Right?

No. Spencer was sweet, yes, but you knew. He was different around you, more open, more playful. Everyone on the team knows how you revolve, bound to each other via some inexplicable force. He knows how you like your tea, he knows what snacks you like, he knows the ins and outs of your past relationships. But he knows everything, from the probability of finding a four-leaf clover, to quantum physics. You weren’t special.

But once he’s done securing the bandage just beneath your sternum, he looks up at you. His eyes rounded and shining, their honey-like color looking richer than ever.

And you feel like the only woman in the universe.

It’s hard not to feel like you’re completely under his spell when the warm hazel color of his eyes bore into your own. The patterning on his irises were just as enchanting, throwing you into the labyrinth that has held your heart at its center for the past 4 years.

“How often do you need to change it?” He whispers, suddenly finding himself closer to you, his warm breath wafting over the center of your chest.

“Just once a day after this.” Is your breathy response. Your hands lift, gently pushing the front pieces of his hair behind his ears, “Your hair is getting long.”

“Should I cut it?” He asks, gaze unwavering. You shake your head no, brushing your fingers through his soft brown waves. The touch is attentive and gentle. The air grows thick with every passing moment, bathing every touch in an intimate nature.

Spencer’s hands linger at your sides, fingers ghosting along your waist. He looks up at you, his eyes somehow softening further. You almost melt on the spot, your hands finding their place at the nape of his neck. Mindlessly, you press the pads of your thumbs into the space just below his skull. The pressure alleviates some of the tension in his neck, his eyes fluttering closed as you begin to move them in a circular motion.

“You really worry too much…” You murmur, face flushing as you watch his expression melt into contentment.

“Hard not to when you’re rushing at a sociopath with a gun…” He mumbles in response, looking at you through his eyelashes. “Especially when this bullet was meant for me.” His thumb slides over the bandage, his bottom lip jutting out a little as his eyes round at the edges.

That damn puppy dog look. You hated it. He used it in any situation where he wasn’t getting his way. He knew it worked on you, probably thinking that you just thought he was too cute to resist. Not quite, as much as you did think it was cute- it was just such a turn-on.

Scoffing, you push away the mounting arousal pooling in your stomach, “Neither of us died, so I call it a win…” his gaze doesn’t waver, clearly seeking to break you, “Stop looking at me like that.” You grumble, placing a hand over his eyes.

Spencer laughs, reaching up to pull your hand away. His fingers curl around you, sliding against the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Like what?”

Rolling your eyes you sigh, “Come on, Handsome, don’t be coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His fingers slide up your wrist, spreading out to flatten your palm. Spencer’s hands are large, enveloping yours easily as he intertwined his fingers with your own. You had spent the last 4 years perfecting the art of hiding the way you feel about Spencer. But it was impossible to hide what he was doing to you here and now.

After years in steady orbit of each other, you were finally spiraling inwards.

He keeps his right hand intertwined with yours, his other hand sliding up your torso slowly. He keeps his eyes trained on your face, watching the miniscule changes in your flushed expression. His fingers slide along the band of your bra. The texture of the lace rubs along the pads on his fingertips. He guides his hand up, breathing shakily as it ghosts over the apex of your chest. You bristle at the contact, your hand gripping his tightly in an attempt to keep your composure.

The only thing breaking up the silence permeating the room is the uneven breathing shared between you. Spencer takes his time, tracing the outline of your collarbone. He follows the line of it, dipping his index and middle finger into the center crevice of your clavicle. Dragging his fingers up the center of your throat, his short, dull nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin. You let out a strained hum, his fingers feeling the vibration of your vocal chords. His inner thighs press against the outside of your own, reminding you of how exactly you ended up here.

Following the line of your jaw, his knuckles gently tilt your head down. He keeps his eyes locked on you, still giving you that dreaded doe eyed stare. Once his hand reaches your face, he tears his gaze from your eyes, following his fingers as he caresses the soft skin of your cheek.

Turning his hand, Spencer lets his slender fingers flatten against your jaw. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the warm skin and gently pressing into it. Watching as the color of your lips changes with the light pressure, he finally speaks.

“The reason your heart races, or you feel nervous when you’re in love… is because of the sudden release of hormones. Dopamine, Cortisol, and Norepinephrine spike, but the mood stabilizer, Serotonin, drops.” His thumb gently tugs on your bottom lip.

“Do I make you nervous, Dr. Reid?” You whisper, your lips gently pressing into the pad of his thumb. Reaching up your free hand, you gently slide it under the front of his cardigan. Pressing it into his chest you could feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage.

Spencer nods, his bottom lip fitting between his teeth as he looks up at you. His face is flushed, the heights of his cheekbones radiating heat from the blood pooling beneath his skin. Adjusting in his seat, he pulls his legs towards himself, fitting one of his knees between your legs to spread them apart.

You look at him in surprise, but he dips his gaze to watch what he was doing. He puts his knees together, placing them between your own. Spreading his legs, he hooks them around your calves, forcing you forward. Yelping, you try your hardest not to collapse into him. You manage to get one of your knees onto the mattress before he fully knocks you over. Ignoring the way his gaze lingers on your flushed face, you settle into his lap, knees on either side of his hips.

Spencer could feel the strap of your thigh holster pressing into his leg. He unclasps his hand from yours, sliding it up your knee. He finds the buckles on the two straps digging into the flesh of your thigh. Maintaining eye contact while he unclasps them, you lift yourself off of him so he can take it off easier. He discards it onto the other side of the bed before letting his hand fall back to rest on your thigh. Spencer was constantly searching your face for approval, touching you slow and simple- He always made it a priority to make you comfortable. Mirroring his other hand, the one holding your face slides down the side of your torso to cup your thigh.The pressure of his touch increases, kneading your muscles through your jeans.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping them lightly as he touches you. Growing restless, you reach down to unbutton his cardigan, sliding it off of his shoulders. He assists in taking it off, throwing it haphazardly across the room. His hands return to their places, but he tilts his head a little, his lips parting as his eyes slide across your face.

Rocking your hips forward pulls a soft moan from his lips, his fingers curling into your thighs. “I- I don’t… think we should do this…” He gasps, contradicting himself as his hands slide up to your hips, pulling you against him again.

“We don’t have to…” You gasp in response, the stimulation only slightly dulled by the thick material of your jeans.

“I want to- but, you’re injured.” He mumbles, leaning forward to press his lips against your collarbone.

You shake your head, sighing at the feeling of his warm lips, “You won’t hurt me.” Loosening his tie, you pull it over his head and toss it to the side.

“I could- not on purpose, but strenuous activity should be avoided during recovery.” Spencer argues, his voice weakened by the way your hips slide into his. His breath falls from his lips heavily, fanning your face as you lean in close.

Laughing, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple, “It doesn’t feel like you want to stop.” You could feel him underneath you, already straining against his slacks. He swallows, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. The hands on your hips tighten their grip, digging into your flesh. He keeps his eyes on you, leaning forward to press a small kiss to your sternum.

Spencer’s hands knew exactly what to do. Sliding over the apex of your hips, his thumbs pressing firmly into your soft skin. Traveling slowly up, the weight of his palms kneading your sides as the tips of his fingers find the band of your bra. The pressure of his touch lightens as he lifts his palms off of you. His fingers curl slightly, leaving just a few fingertips touching the lacy fabric.

Reading you like a book, his hands circle around to your back. Finding the clasp, he makes quick work of undoing your bra. He makes no move to fully remove the garment, just flattening his hands against your exposed back. His fingers press into your spine, running along the outsides of it.

You slide the bra off, throwing it over your shoulder to join your shirt and his cardigan on the floor. His eyes leave yours, trailing along your skin, uninterrupted by fabric. One hand stays on your back, the other sliding around your side. The pressure of his touch lightens as he reaches your front, very careful to not disturb your injured ribs.

His hand flattened on your torso scoops the underside of your breast, his thumb caressing the soft skin. Watching how your body molds to the shape of his hand, his lips part slightly, almost studying you.

Spencer presses a few more kisses to your sternum, slowly making his way up to your collarbone. Your hips continue to slide against his, pulling soft breathy moans from the both of you. His noises are muffled by your neck as he presses his lips to the center of your throat. It almost hurts how badly you want him, your desire clouding over any possible pain stemming from your ribs.

Moving as quickly and as gently as possible, Spencer twists his body. He slowly lowers your back to the mattress, settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He continued to grind against you, the feeling of him through four layers of clothing was enough to drive you up the wall.

It dawned on you then how easy this felt.

Just like everything with him, it all came to you like the most natural thing in the universe. The two of you had spent years memorizing everything about each other. You never thought it would translate so well into this situation. Then again, you never thought it was possible for you to end up in this position with him. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them quickly as his mouth finds your throat again. He takes his time exploring the warm skin of your neck, very gently nipping at your pulse. He takes in every noise he draws from you, filing them away in his mind with every roll of his hips.

Just as easily as the dusk slides into the quiet of night, you turn to putty in his hands.

Trying to focus on getting his shirt off, you’re distracted by the intense way he kisses your neck. You hadn’t really expected Spencer to be so… possessive with his mouth, but in hindsight it made sense to you.

He was possessive in other ways, always taking the seat next to you on the jet, calling dibs on partnering with you, not letting anyone else help you if he was nearby, getting pouty when your attention was drawn elsewhere. Listening to his heavy breathing as his warm, open mouthed, kisses press into your throat you’re suddenly aware of every way he’s laid his claim on you to the people around you.

To everyone else, you were his.

His hands hold your chest, squeezing and caressing the soft skin. Spencer’s teeth slowly drag along the side of your neck, biting you very gently, careful not to leave any marks where anyone would see. Your breathing comes out heavy and labored, your face scrunching slightly as you feel the strain of your ribs with each breath.

Spencer’s large palms slide down your torso after one last squeeze, finding the hem of your pants. He quickly gets your belt off, letting it clatter to the floor and unbuttoning your jeans. Pulling away from your neck. his eyes meet yours as he hooks his fingers over the hem of your underwear. He shimmies them down the length of your legs along with your pants, tossing them across the room carelessly. Pupils dilated wide, he drinks in the look of you like a starved man. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at the pained look on your face. His thumb presses against the space between your brows, smoothing out the tension building there as your chest rises and falls heavily.

“Try to relax your breathing,” He whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek. His hand slips away from your face, the soft noise of his silver belt buckle unfastening filling your ears. Attentive kisses are pressed along the perimeter of your face, urging you to try and calm your racing heart.

The air around you is cold, a stark contrast to the ever growing heat pooling between your legs. His warm chest presses against yours, one hand curling around your knee, the other sliding along your bare inner thigh.

A soft moan falls from your lips, “You’re not exactly helping,” You whisper, feeling his lips press against your temple.

“It doesn’t feel like you want to stop,” He replies, throwing your words back at you as his fingers slide against your clit teasingly. You writhe underneath him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Trying your hardest not to move too much as his fingers slowly circle the bundle of nerves. If you move too much and aggravate your ribs, you might have to stop. His slender fingers slide along you, dipping into your entrance briefly before continuing to tease. You whine, lifting your hips to meet his hand as best as you can.

As much as Spencer wants to keep teasing, his need to please you overwhelms any other desire that may be festering. He pushes his middle finger into you, kissing the corner of your mouth as a guttural moan is pulled from your lips.

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it as his finger fucks into you. His face remains pressed into yours, kissing along your cheekbone lovingly. Adding his ring finger, he pushes it into you slowly and allows you to adjust to the difference in size. His long, slender, fingers slide in and out of you, the ministrations deliberate and slow.

Despite the slow pace of his hand, the length and size of his fingers provides overwhelming stimulation. You had always loved how large his hands were, spending nights wondering and fantasizing about how they would feel touching you like this. But this was way better than any piss poor scenario you could dream up.

Your head falls back onto the pillow, mouth hanging open as deep, breathy moans fall from your lips. Hissing a bit, you try to calm your breathing.

“Don’t stop…” You sigh out, knowing he was noticing the way your breathing changes in kind to the pain spreading from your fractured bones. Spencer listens to your request, his fingers curling slightly. The sensation draws out a loud gasp as the tips of his fingers press into you. Your hands move down his neck, sliding along his back.

Your head swims with intense pleasure, not bothering to care about how badly your ribs hurt with every breath you take. Spencer’s name falls from your mouth like a mantra, eyes closing as you focus on not writhing underneath him. Hands pressing into his shoulder blades you pull him flush against you, feeling his hard length against your inner thigh as he pushes you closer to the edge with his fingers.

The way he presses into your inner thigh pulls a small noise from the back of his throat. He speeds up the way his fingers fuck into you, rutting against your thigh instinctually to keep the friction going. His thumb presses into your clit, the pressure firmer as he continues to circle around it. The feeling draws out a strained moan from your lips, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Spencer can feel you starting to fall apart underneath him, his lips pressing firmly into your neck. His soft gasps and moans muffled by your warm skin as he uses your thigh. Tightening around his fingers, your legs shake, and you mumble his name over and over. Biting down on your lip, his free hand slides just under your breast, holding your torso down when he feels your back begin to lift from the bed. Your orgasm crashes over you and the room spins, tremors vibrating through your spine.

You gasp, panting to try and catch your breath. His lips find your face again, smothering your cheeks and nose with affection as you come down from your high slowly. His desperate grinding against your thigh pulls you back to reality and you gently push on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Spencer… I need you…” You whine, your hands cupping his face. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he nods. There’s a soft twitch to his face when he pulls his hips away from your thigh, his eyes searching yours for final approval. You nod, adoring the amber color at the center of his irises.

Gripping himself in his hand, he takes a second to slide his tip through your folds, pulling a desperate moan from the both of you. The tenderness left from your last orgasm causes you to whine and throw your head back onto the pillow.

“Wait…” He gasps, looking up at you, “I- do you have a condom?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head, “I’m on birth control, it’s fine… please.” Your fingers curl and play with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

He hesitates, seemingly working through the probabilities and statistics of not using one, but he nods. Spencer looks back down, lining himself up with you. One hand on your hip, the other wrapped around himself.

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” He says, voice shaking with his heavy breathing. You nod, eyes locked on his features. The shadows of his face as he hovers over you are dark, seeping into the dips and curves of his brow and cheek bones. He looked ethereal.

When his tip pushes into you slowly, you gasp. His mouth finds yours, kissing you needily as he works his way inside of you.

Spencer breathes heavily into your mouth as his fingers dig into the flesh of your outer thighs, “I… I love you.” He declares, his lips moving against yours with fervor.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, his kisses not allowing you to verbally reciprocate. You loved him. There was no doubt about that. But when he’s fully inside of you, filling you completely, there is nothing you can do to stop the way you ignite underneath him.

Moaning into his mouth, your legs shake from your earlier orgasm. He gives you time to slowly adjust, shivers running up and down his spine as your muscles flutter around him. Spencer slows down his kisses, resorting to soft presses as he waits for your signal.

After a moment you nod, whispering a soft “I love you” and kissing him in return. With your quiet permission, he pulls his hips back. Letting out a strained groan, his lips loosely against yours, he rolls his hips back into you.

The feeling of you wrapped around him completely, your hands in his hair, your mouth against his. There is nothing that can compare to this. Nothing.

Spencer rocks into you slowly, keeping your hips pressed against the mattress. The angle is perfect, and the least likely to aggravate your rib cage. He’s fully in tune with how you feel underneath him, his hands gently sliding over your hips in a soothing motion. Feeling no need to rush, he pulls back from your lips to watch the way he slides in and out of you.

“I… I would beg you to go faster if my ribs didn’t feel like they were on fire.” You hum, your hands brushing over the perimeters of his face. His face scrunches a little and he almost slows to a stop, but you shake your head, “Don’t- don’t stop, please, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers shakily, one of his hands sliding down to press circles into your overly sensitive clit.

A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, “Yes, yes… I’ve never felt so good…” Your muscles flutter around him, the added sensation pulling your thoughts from the deep ache ringing from your torso. His lips meet yours again, one of his palms cupping the back of your hand. Pressing your hand firmly into his cheek, his mouth moves against yours in slow, loving motions. The amount of tongue he used was a pleasant surprise, his kisses never seeming to still.

Keeping up his languid pace, Spencer memorizes the way you feel- which isn’t hard with his memory, but he files away every moan, every flutter of your core, every lingering kiss. It was all so perfect.

The remnants of your first orgasm buzzes in your core, your entire body felt like it was on fire. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, your kisses getting sloppier and his name falling from your lips in quick succession. His hips roll deep into you, making up for the slow pace with the thumb rubbing evenly over your clit.

His shoulders tense, the kiss between you breaking into just a sequence of heavy breaths against your lips. Hips twitching, the feeling of you around him almost unbearable as the pleasure causes his head to swim. All of the facts and knowledge constantly swimming through his mind fall silent, replaced with your soft whines and the feeling of your soft skin under his palms.

“Spencer… god, please- come for me…” You murmur against his lips, your hands moving into his hair and sliding down the back of his neck. Your nails lightly scrape along his sensitive skin, coaxing him over the edge. It’s all he can do to keep his slow pace, lifting his face away from yours to look down at you. Your eyes are slightly glassed over, looking up at him with a pleading gaze. The eye-contact is the final push he needed, his fingers circling around your clit quickly.

You gasp at the change in pace- the feeling of him inside of you, the length of him brushing against your sweet spot, his sweet gaze on your face all cause your muscles to contract as your second orgasm crashes over you. Spencer follows quickly behind you, groaning loudly as his hips stutter and he pushes himself into you as deep as he can. His release coats your insides, the added sensation pushing you even farther. Mouth falling open, his moans spike to a slightly higher pitch as he slowly rides out his own orgasm.

Heavy gasps fall from your lips as the two of you come down from your high. Spencer’s lips press against yours sloppily, his hands reaching up to hold your face firmly. He pulls out of you slowly, listening to the soft whine that falls from your lips.

Overly sensitive from the two back to back orgasms, your head swims. Spencer attempts to pull away from you more, but your hands loosely capture his wrists and pull him back. Lips meeting again in a lazy fashion, your mind is in a daze, “I love you…” is softly mumbled into his mouth, your hands holding his to your face.

“I love you too… How do your ribs feel?” He asks, kissing up the bridge of your nose.

You sigh into his affection, your thumbs rubbing the outside of his hands, “I feel great… it’s like a forgotten bruise.” Your lips pull into a sloppy grin.

“That’s because pain can be reduced by orgasms,” Is his response, pulling a soft laugh from you, “Potent analgesics, which are basically pain killers, are released in the endorphins during sex.”

“Maybe we should do this until my ribs are healed,” You hum, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek.

Spencer laughs a little, shaking his head, “Let me get you cleaned up.”

He attempts to pull away again but you keep his hands held in your grip. You were still exhausted, your hold loose. Spencer could easily wriggle away, but he humors you with a few more kisses.

“Stay… I want you to stay.” You whine, tilting your head and kissing the corners of his mouth. “Please?”

Spencer nods, moving to settle next to you. Being mindful of your injury, he wraps an arm around your shoulders. Scooting closer and pressing his chest against your arm, he kisses your temple sweetly. The gravity of your connection holds your cores together in the wake of your collision.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #no use of y/n #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #fluff #smut #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg #mgg smut #gublernation

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baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

Text

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

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theminecraftbee · 9 months ago

Text

> check social links

(Which Social Link should I check on...?)

0 FOOL School Rescue Committee Should this really be an official school club? The group of Persona-users that I'm in now, whether I like it or not. At least I'm helping people by doing all this weird magic nonsense...

I MAGICIAN Scar A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. He's dragged me into his scam crystal-selling operation, which is actually weirdly fun.

II PRIESTESS Beef Pretty large and muscular for a priestess, but sure, I'll bite. A volunteer EMT who is trying to decide whether to follow his family's wishes for university.

III EMPRESS Gem A fellow Persona-user in my year. She wants me to help her study for entrance exams, apparently. Not sure why she's asking me, I missed an entire semester? But it's good enough study for me as well.

IV EMPEROR Impulse A fellow Persona-user in my year. He has a single-minded devotion to overworking himself, despite the fact he seems to be trying to prove it's fine for some reason.

V HIEROPHANT Xisuma An older man who hangs out in the local tea shop. Keeps trying to parent me for some reason, although it seems like his relationship with his actual family's a bit less good, so maybe that's why.

VI LOVERS Etho My lab partner. The whole school's obsessed with him for some reason. My only solace is that he seems to be just as disconcerted by that fact as I am.

VII CHARIOT Skizzleman A fellow Persona-user in my year, and my first friend in this town. I'm helping him find a part-time job. He's sort of ridiculously cheerful, but I know he understands me better than most people.

VIII JUSTICE Grian A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. Keeps dragging me into his pranks, although for such a gregarious guy, he's weirdly isolated.

IX HERMIT Joe Hills One of my teachers, and the head of the School Rescue Committee. He's, frankly, the most bizarre guy I know, and I don't know what to make of any of the "wisdom" he tries to impart on us.

X FORTUNE Tango Apparently, he's a bit of a prodigy in the robotics club, but he first came to me to confess he's considering quitting. I have no idea why this is my problem, but Impulse frowned at me about it, so here I am.

XI STRENGTH False A local martial artist who's been decorated with a number of titles. I just wanted her to teach me how to fight better, but apparently, she's starting to doubt her own fighting ability as well.

XII HANGED MAN Jimmy Igor's assistant in the Velvet Room. He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also my idiot. Mostly wants to request I escort him to places in the human world, although he wants specific fusions sometimes too.

XIII DEATH Cleo A "florist" in town who can source us weapons and fence goods from Altered Space. I'm pretty sure she's actually Yakuza, or at least criminal. She and Joe know each other, although strangely, she doesn't seem to remember from where.

XIV TEMPERANCE Iskall and Stress Two priests at the local shrine. I work for them occasionally to help them with odd jobs around town. They share some common past they don't like to talk about.

XV DEVIL Ren The student council president. He's bizarrely mad with power on a good day, which is weird, because he's also bizarrely kickable on a good day. Keeps on trying to rope me into the Student Council.

XVI TOWER Doc An inventor trying to invent a safe new clean energy source. According to rumors, his last try exploded, killing his lab partner, which constantly makes me question why I'm here.

XVII STAR Zedaph Proprietor of the famous local "Mystery Stir Fry Extravaganza". Frankly, his creations terrify me more than Doc's do. I have no idea why this is Impulse's favorite restaurant.

XVIII MOON Mumbo A fellow Persona-user in the year below me. Apparently, he still gets bullied a lot, but he has a scheme to, and I quote, 'learn to be something scary, like a horse.' Good luck with that, mate.

XIX SUN Pearl An artist that I've always admired. Recently, she was in a terrible car accident, and her hands now constantly shake because of it. I still think she can draw organic shapes better than me, though.

XX JUDGEMENT Soul Reappearance Committee Judgement. Hah. I guess you'd call this Judgement Day, sure.

XXI THE WORLD ... It's me.

#smallishsona au #a bee fic #WOO I HAVE THE FINAL LIST OF EVERYONE!#some of joel's descriptions here actually give away the social link plotline #but a FEW of them actually do not.#but WOO HERE ARE THE SOCIAL LINKS! :D

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 6 months ago

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1x10

spencer reid x morgan!reader

note: its spencer x yn crumbs, shes like barely in it i just want to put something out because ive been feeling burnt out and only these small blurbs are helping me so expect more

request more criminal minds moments that i can insert these two in! im already planning to do when the team goes to Derek's hometown

word count: 587

“Easy there, touch guy. Have some coffee with your sugar.” Derek teased as he walked into the kitchen area, Spencer was standing not facing him pouring an extensive amount of sugar into his coffee.

“I need something to wake me up.” The younger boy mumbled.

“Late night?” “Very.”

Derek, taking that comment the wrong way, said, “My man.” He then suddenly remembered his little sister calling him last night saying she was going over to the young Dr. Reid’s home. “Hold up- weren’t you with my sister last night?”

“Wasn’t that kind of late night.” This response put Morgan at ease to continue his teasing remarks, “Okay, so tell me, what does keep young Dr. Reid awake at night?”

The older man started walking, patting Spencer on the shoulder just as the young man was taking a sip of his sugar-coffee concoction, “Wait, let me guess. Memorising some obscure textbook?” Spencer finaling turned to face the man, an unamused look present on his face as Derek continued, “No, no, no. Working on cold fusion. No, my baby sister was there.. I got it, I got it. Watching Star Trek and laughing at the physics mistakes.”

Spencer shook his head slightly, “Actually there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors.” Derek, in a state of disbelief and not knowing what to say, responded with, “Right.” Before leaving Spencer alone in the kitchenette and making his way to his desk. Only Y/n was there at her own desk, doing her paperwork. She looked up to see the two walking somewhat towards her.

“I don’t know what you see in him.” Derek mumbles sitting down in his chair, but before he could Elle comes walking through the bullpen saying, “Hey, Hotch wants everyone at the round table.”

Y/n immediately made her way to follow Elle, saying to Derek, “How can you not?” as she walked away and before Derek could leave too, Spencer asked him about what was really keeping him up. The nightmares. Derek always seemed to be that person Spencer could lean on, they were family at this point. You have to be to do a job like theirs.

-bonus-

The team got to the crime scene site, Spencer was poking around when he noticed wax on the scene.

"Candle wax?" JJ asked, confused, Spencer only replied with, “Candles are used in rituals.”

“Also used on birthday cakes.” Gideon was adamant that this was not a ritual killing, Y/n did agree but wasn’t turning down the idea all together.

But what Gideon said seemed to hit a knowledge nerve on Spencer as he went into one of his usual info-dumping sessions, “Actually, they were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year.” Spencer let out a smug-sounding chuckle that made Y/n need to hide her smile behind her hand, “As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual.” He ended with his usual smile, the one that always made Y/n want to give him a hug.

Though, everyone else looked at him like he was insane for just knowing that off the top of his head. The sheriff that was on the scene with them asked, “What kind of doctor are you?” And that was when Y/n had to let her laugh go, seeing the look on Spencer’s face.

~taglist~

@chrissyclg @pillsbury-doughgirl @the-holy-trinity-l @theillestvillain3 @random000000sblog @flow33didontsmoke

#spencer reid #spencer reid x morgan!reader #spencer reid x morgan!sister #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #derek morgan x sister!reader #spencer reid x derek!sister!reader #spencer reid x dereks!sister #spencer x derek!sister #derek morgan #dere

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akashis-waifu · 10 months ago

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An Eternity of Mind Games with You (Aizen Sousuke x Reader)

Canon-divergence one-shot, set years after TBYW. Female reader is the Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your first name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Domestic!Aizen with usual sass, wholesome, fluff, cringe but we embrace it. Immortal x immortal, enemies struggling with new established co-dependency. This might seem slightly out of character, but we've got Kyoka Suigetsu to blame. Contains spoilers on the ending of TBYW and CFYOW!

"Oh please, dear wife."

You raise an eyebrow at your self-proclaimed husband. The two of you have only been together for a decade as Lord and retainer — co-rulers, if you squint hard enough — after Aizen Sousuke tricked you into absorbing the Hougyoku, which apparently had long merged with his spirit. In effect, the man became a part of the Soul King and is now able to use your authority, as long as you agree to it.

In return, you get to wield one of the greatest Zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu. You see it as an absolute win, the Central 46 doesn't.

As to why Aizen insists that you two are husband and wife, he argues that "A system where a man and a woman govern together is called monarchy. And it goes without saying that a King and a Queen are married." He seems to have put the cart before the horse, a very uncharacteristic blunder for the renowned war criminal. You simply guess that the fusion might have caused him brain damage.

"I swear, I haven't used Kyoka Suigetsu for a long time. There is literally no reason for you to act delusional."

He feigns to be hurt at your words. "You are the king, I am the queen. How can we not be married?"

"It's crazy how you easily admit to being the queen now." During your ascension, you had to repeatedly remind him that the Soul King was you. If he insisted on his god-complex-driven monarchy delusion, the Queen would be him.

Aizen shrugs. "As the human saying goes, let me cook."

Chills run down your spine. Something is wrong. "Maybe I'm the delusional one."

"Took you a long time to realize."

A shattering sound awakens you. After adjusting to reality, you glare at Aizen Sousuke who has successfully swiped the two Heavenly Tickets out of your hand.

"Please stop using Kyoka Suigetsu on me."

He chuckles mockingly. "You have a funny mind, I can't help it."

You try to take the tickets from him. Those are your mode of transportation to Seireitei! "It's Rukia's inauguration today. We really need to go!"

"You can go by yourself."

"I can't leave you here alone!"

Aizen smiles. He knows that it is a matter of distrust — that he might destroy the Soul Palace in your absence — but teases you nonetheless. "What a caring wife you are."

"Is the illusion not over yet?"

"My apologies. I'm simply not in the mood to head to Seireitei today," he explains briefly, before turning around. "Feel free to go without me."

You watch with curious eyes as Aizen leaves the room. He has undoubtedly mellowed out compared to 10 years ago. Memories flash through your mind.

At the end of the war, you were supposed to absorb Yhwach, become the Soul King, and be sacrificed as the new linchpin of the Three Realms. If Aizen hadn't given you the Hougyoku that granted your divinity as the Soul King, you wouldn't have gained the authority to banish Hyosube Ichibe.

If it weren't for Aizen, you would've been mutilated into a thoughtless doll. You may not express it, but you are eternally grateful to him.

Standing at the edge of the Soul Palace, you stare at the boundless sky below. It is almost time for your departure.

"He tells me to go by myself, but he knows I hate jumping all the way down to Soul Society. He could have at least returned my ticket to me." You sigh and jump anyway.

Upon arriving at Seireitei, you use Kyoka Suigetsu to disguise yourself as a white butterfly. You dispel the Shikai after reaching the 13th Division.

"Hana-san! Ah, I mean, Soul King!" Kuchiki Rukia hastily corrects herself. She then invites you to a celebratory dinner and you spend some time with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

The party ends late. Rukia offers the Kuchiki residence for you to spend the night in, but you decline, worried that someone might wreak havoc in your palace if left alone for too long.

She suggests to escort you to Shiba Kuukaku's hideout, aware that you would need the cannon to return to the Soul Palace. Still, you refuse, "No no! No need. It's already late, Rukia, go to sleep. I usually disguise myself as a harmless butterfly when I go around Seireitei to avoid unnecessary attention. Don't worry!"

On the way to the hideout, you feel that you're being followed. You instantly regret declining her offer.

When Aizen finds you in the middle of Seireitei, you are already bleeding from a large cut on your torso. He rushes to your side and activates the Hougyoku to accelerate your healing. As if to laud his effort, you soon regain consciousness.

"Aizen...?" you ask, vision still blurry. "What are you doing here? I... I thought you didn't want to go."

"You're not adept at using Kyoka Suigetsu yet. An incident like this is bound to happen."

"I see," you chuckle weakly. "No wonder she saw through my disguise."

His grip on your shoulder tightens. "Who was it?"

"Candace."

"Candace?"

You cough out blood multiple times and reach out to caress his cheek, as if ready to utter your last words — which would be if he doesn't take the joke lightly.

"Can deez nuts."

Aizen deadpans. A shattering sound takes him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shoulder to see you fiddling with the tickets that he had previously hidden in his sleeves.

Of course, the whole farce was an illusion. He should've known since the Hougyoku grants instant regeneration. He sighs in annoyance. "I'd like to take the Hougyoku back. You're too insufferable."

"Is that a request for divorce?"

He smirks. "So, you acknowledge our marriage."

"Hell no!" You click your tongue, frustrated that he always has the perfect comebacks. "Can't you act normal for once? What happened to Aizen Sousuke, the war criminal?"

"You prefer that version of me?" He pushes his hair back. You aren't used to that sight since he always has his hair down when you're alone together.

You visibly cringe. "Stop doing that. What would you do if people recognized you?"

"We're using Kyoka Suigetsu. From their perspective, we are nothing but butterflies attracted to beautiful flowers basking in the moonlight."

You frown at him. "We're literally walking on concrete. Not a single flower can be found here."

"There is."

Aizen raises your chin, staring directly into your eyes. "Hana."

Too stunned to speak, you allow yourself a moment to think.

You finally understand why Aizen was so popular when he was still with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. His strength, intellect, charisma — the sultry voice and handsome features that you will never admit to his face — he used everything at his disposal to manipulate everyone.

It will never work on you, though. Not today, nor in a million years.

You are good, he is evil. You are yang, he is yin.

You are pure, he is corrupted.

The Soul King can never let Aizen Sousuke dye Her in his color, for that would mean the end of the Three Realms.

You give him a thin smile. "Would you like the Hougyoku back? I can hand it to you now."

"Oh, you jest." Aizen feels the sudden shift in mood and lets you go. That's enough teasing, he muses to himself.

With an eternity to look forward to, he doesn't mind biding his time. You are the Soul King, the strongest, most benevolent, and most dangerous being in the Three Realms. It goes without saying that you are the greatest challenge he will ever face. It could take hundreds or thousands of years — even millions — but he knows that you will submit to him one day.

It's not a matter of if, but when.

You extend a hand at him. "Let's go home, Sousuke."

But, he has to make sure you don't win him over first.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen x reader #bleach imagines #bleach tybw #also posted this in Ao3 #I WAS POSSESSED BY KYOKA SUIGETSU WHEN I WROTE THIS I APOLOGIZE #i'm also sorry for the person i'd become when they animate “welcome to my soul society” in TYBW #AWOO AWOOOOO #it's bleach #aizen sosuke

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playername-player-of-games · 1 year ago

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@chrisrin‘s gemcyt au !! “Pearl” is actually Joel here :3

Well. Running was stupid.

The Human Zoo is absolutely not set up the same way as the palace- all confusing hallways and rooms that have doors at both ends, usually nice for escaping but now annoying as he’s been cornered twice now, only escaped because he’s willing to poof other gems- he’s feisty, for a pearl. At least for today. He knows he’s going to be shattered for this, he may as well go down fighting.

Left, left, left, he’s going in circles. Rubies shout behind him, five voices becoming one when they fuse. They’re faster now, but he’s got a head start, and he goes right this time, immediately crashing into a quartz on the turn-

He looks up, eyes going wide-

“Etho! Etho- poof me!”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

Pearl isn’t usually aware of the happenings outside of his gem when he’s recharging. It’s dark when he poofs, he’s whisked away somewhere quiet. On a good day it takes him fifteen minutes to Reform, but today he stays quiet, stays put, in Etho’s pocket.

He catches bits of conversation- shouting, alarms, running. Etho gives vague answers to any questioning, and soon enough the rubies move on. Pearl stays put, though, for hours, until gentle hands put him back in open air- until he hears the gentle tap of his gem being set down.

“It’s safe to come out now,” Etho says.

Pearl reforms, swift and effortless, on the floor of a closet full of weapons. He looks up at Etho and confesses, “I’m going to be shattered.”

Etho’s eye widens- he’s not very talkative, for an amethyst, but he talks to Pearl sometimes- “why’s that? What did you do?”

Pearl buries his face in his hands- it’s one thing to commit treason and an entirely other thing to admit to treason. Etho helped him, though- lied for him, took him somewhere safe. He owes him, he thinks.

“I-” it’s terrifying to admit. He does not move his hands, does not speak louder than a whisper “-I fused with Pink Diamond.”

Stars- he’s really going to be shattered for this.

“Ah.”

“I’m going to be shattered,” Pearl says again, with rising terror, “they’re- they’re going to find me, and they’re going to shatter me, and they’re going to shatter you too, an-”

Not just shattered, he’s going to be space dust! If he’s lucky maybe he’ll become a star in about seven trillion years-

“Woah, woah, hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Etho interrupts. He guides Pearl’s hands away from his face and holds them tight, mismatched eyes calm, somehow, despite everything, “you’re going to be okay.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ll be okay too.”

“How?”

“I know a guy. I’ll get us out of here,” Etho shrugs. Before Pearl can lose his mind over that particular string of words, Etho questions, “how’d you end up fusing with a diamond?”

Pearl freezes. This is really just- not a conversation he wants to have. Etho rubs his thumbs across the back of his hands, grounding- it’s nice.

“We were in the garden,” Pearl confesses, supposing that the floor of a closet isn’t the worst place to confess to being a criminal, “and she ah- she was excited about the humans, and her smile was-”

He swallows, ducking his head.

“-she was dazzling,” he admits, a little breathless, “she was- so excited, and it was beautiful, and they were playing with these little things called otters and one did a flip, and she- she gasped and grabbed my arm and it just- it just kind of-”

He’d fallen out of the fusion only moments after they’d formed. His Diamond had been staring at him, her mouth agape in pure shock. The other guards had been horrified. Every instinct then told him to run, so he did, and he’d been chased, and now-

He wants to hide again, but alas Etho is still holding his hands. He looks up- Etho’s mismatched eyes hold no judgement. He’s smiling.

Pearl scowls. “What?”

“Congrats,” Etho says, calm as a glittering starscape, “fusion’s a special thing.”

Pearl sputters, “It’s treason!”

“That too,” Etho agrees. He squeezes Pearl’s hands and turns serious, “I can get us out of here, but you’ll have to be poofed, and you can’t reform until I say so.”

Oh stars- he’s- he might not be shattered.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Promise.”

“Etho, I owe you my life,” Pearl retorts, “anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I promise. I swear it. I don’t want to be shattered.”

Etho nods, and pulls Pearl to his feet. He’s shaking, but only a little, and Etho steadies him with a hand at his back.

“Wh-where are we going?” he asks.

Etho smiles, “you’ll see.”

Pearl vanishes into dark and quiet once again.

#gemcyt #idk how else to tag this 👍👍#obsessed with this au !!!! two special interests smashed into one can only go well sksjdjd #my brain went. hmm if Joel is Lizzie’s pearl how could he possibly get to earth and be a rebel. oh I know!! treason!! :D /silly

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hermit-writes · 2 years ago

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You Make Sense of the Devil

Summary

A ghost from the BAU past reappears and drags up unfinished business for Aaron Hotchner. The ripples are enough to call back missing team members and spread well beyond the circle of his influence.

Tags

James “Bucky” Barnes/Emily Prentiss

Timeline What Timeline, MCU fusion, Criminal Minds fusion, Implied Past Non-Con, liberties were taken with the legal system, Case Fic, International Fanworks Day 2023, No One Is Okay, canon typical trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Excerpt

The hand of the watch stuttered as it ticked forward. Of course it did. The cheap, quartz-driven mechanism wasn’t up to the degree of atomic precision the Mission deserved. The watches had been bought in bulk from overseas two corporate shell-games ago. Untraceable, carrying no zombie-link to snitch on them and expose their location. There would be time for that later. Much later. He wondered if he would be there to witness it. A selfish wish.

“Head down, shoulders up. Don’t fidget. Don’t draw attention. You’re no-one. You are everyone. You’re the City. You belong where they don’t.”

The gun in his hand is heavy. As carefully coated in anonymity as the rest of him, it was small, disposable. Heavy. As the seconds tick the implications piled up, a leaded drape of doubts. Weakness. Too late now.

The stroke of noon echoed in tandem with the crack of his gun. One bullet. One dead.

Make them feel it.

We’re here.

---

“Yes. Are you sure?”

Hotch hears the thin electronic voice through the government-approved landline. But he’s really listening to his own voice, saying these same words across a gulf of years. The desk under his fingers feels like bone instead of polished wood. Vertebrae doused with arterial bleed, desperation and the screaming din of smoke in air.

“We’re on our way.”

Compartmentalizing. Part of himself takes notes, grabs his go bag from its transient home beneath his desk. The mountain of paperwork will await another night, to be brought home while Jack sleeps. While Jack talks about his day at school and of all the bright things out in his world, where sometimes his Dad can follow but never, quite, Hotch.

Phone trees ring into the night, calling back the team, to rip them from the shreds of their lives. again. Hotch walks down to the file storage. There was one more thing he needed before the flight.

The other parts of Aaron Hotchner walk along the sour-coffee and ink ghost of Jason Gideon, and the raw burnt edges of Elle’s memory, along with all those he’d lost to this unit before. All those who got away.

Read on Ao3

#James “Bucky” Barnes/Emily Prentiss #Timeline What Timeline #MCU fusion #criminal minds fusion #Implied Past Non-Con #liberties were taken with the legal system #Case Fic #International Fanworks Day 2023 #No One Is Okay #canon typical trauma #Other Additional Tags to Be Added

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carionto · 1 year ago

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So uhh... we found something really, REALLY strange

As the tectonic activity continues to shift ever more chaotically across the globe, randomly elevating or crumbling parts of mountains, opening up fissures and expanding fault lines, not to mention all the volcanic eruptions, to say it is important to monitor the inner workings of Earth would be a criminal understatement.

On the remains of what used to be Hawaii, now a singular landmass, lies a monitoring station closest to the epicenter of the Fusion Detonation Event, some 400km away. Seismographer and tectonics expert Joannie du'Preeste was finalizing this months deep level mapping of the area of detonation and directly below to give the algorithm-driven disaster prediction model at least an above 50% accuracy rate for this month.

Typical readings, increase in magma outflow, collapses of internal caverns, formation of new ones, and irregular shifts from the various efforts to stymie and direct the disastrous plate movements. Now that Humanity and Earth were properly back in dimensional space instead of in-between, some additional hectic activity in the form of directional nuclear detonation had been performed for the upcoming plan of "plug the hole with a large piece of another planet or moon".

They've selected Sycorax by the way, just waiting for it to get further away from Uranus in its irregular orbit, hook it up to several Dreadnoughts and haul it over to Earth and gently plop it in the hole. It is about the right size and nobody will miss it if it doesn't work.

Anyway, as she pondered the likely inevitable yet another calamitous event we'll be willingly conducting, the mapper finished its work.

At first, more of the same chaos as usual, but something at the back of her mind said to glance closer at the density readings from the deepest level measurements. With not much else to do today before the work day ends, she highlighted the appropriate levels, and as she started to remove clutter data, a shape began to emerge.

A tendril.

While scans and maps often show things that our minds interpret as something already familiar to us, once you look at each individual part, you see that it is just a coincidence. The brain wants to see what it knows to make sense of the unknown, life would be too complicated and overstimulating otherwise.

No mistake, however. As she removed more of the clutter and focused in on the object, there was no mistaking its resemblance to a biological structure. Hints of veins, pores, hairs, scales, needles, eyes... seemingly everything you could find on the surface layer of a creature was there, or parts of it anyway. Composition-wise it was more of the same silicates and such compounds found within the mantle. But... denser, more concentrated, almost deliberately shaped.

She quickly loaded up older data and after a bit of filtering and comparing, sure enough, the same tendril-like structure is there, just a little closer to the regular density levels of the surrounding. Even years old data provided similar results, though you could only find the shape if you already knew it was there.

Loading up the oldest records she had access to from around 300 years ago revealed the same, just even less distinguishable from the surrounding materials.

The scans don't go deep enough to show what the tendril leads to, if anything, but what is it? How did it get there? Why is something clearly biological in structure within the mantle layer? And if it does continue, how far? Does the core of the planet itself house some impossible creature? If so... what does that mean? For Earth? For Humanity? For the Universe? This is way above Joannie's pay grade and expertise, way past her regular waking hours as well at this point, and way too big to know how or if to reveal any information to the public. Some higher ups can have a headache instead.

Maybe the Coalition aliens know something similar.

Maybe this is all a big load of nothing and she just imagined it all.

Yeah.

That'd be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if Cthulu wasn't potentially real?

#humanity fuck yeah #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #lovecrafian #fiction #short story #story #I'm not gonna tease and slow burn this #I suggested Cthulu exists in this verse so gotta advance that #how is this gonna work? dunno #I should probably read Lovecrafts works huh #cuz right now i'm just improving eldritch beings #also just casually dooming a moon to a pointless death #carionto

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z-and-the-space-child · 1 year ago

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my head is all currently midnight burger podcast so here's everything i like about this wonderful piece of media:

it's pretty fun and very funny!! i smile like an idiot on public transport and on my way to class at least once a day listening to this.

the characters are so. idk how to describe them but theyre so full of life and you can tell that they are loved greatly by the creator(s)

the WRITING. i could seriously pluck a quote from damn near every episode to carry me through the day. i don't need affirmations i need gloria to talk me through my problems.

i was doing a lil analysis of the themes in this show and i came up with "the best thing you can ever do is the best thing you can do right now" and it is FUEL, babey.

The el triste monologue. also just gloria being a POC and being proud of herself and her culture. there's a lot of cultural mish-mash in podcasts, so this is very refreshing.

It's very, very sweet and heartfelt. kind of like wolf 359 if they communicated more instead of dodging their issues until they came to a peak (love them for it.)

the PHYSICS of it all. i'm a physics/astrophysics major because i think space and looking at the stars is my lifeblood so i won't shut up about it. i don't want ava and leif (certainly ava) to shut up about it ever. HOW much reasearch did they have to do to get this kinda grasp on it. im in awe, i'm LEARNING actual things from them. i could go on. the gravity waves, the stellar nuclear fusion, the time dilation of it all. and all without using over-flowery language!!! i can actually follow a good chunk of the time. are we sure ava didn't take one of those science communication seminars. maybe 5 phds does it. when she and leif talk i vibrate like an electron in a lazer. wonderful.

star sequencing??? stellar nucleosequencing??? right up my alley. thats my kinda stuff. the romanticization of space, i've seen. the romanticization of physics, however, is not something i haven't seen in such a beautiful modern fashion. (Ie, not oppenheimer or even richard feyman)

and it's not too science-y to the point that they think they can't have fun. yes they discuss the implications of gravity waves and wax poetic about space and pulsars. (it beats for you, berts) but they have FUN! they meet their parents because they can. they get a plant drunk. there's an atmosphere(?????) around the diner that allows them to fly around and mind-numbing speeds and look at the curvature of spacetime and also sit on the roof. (I imagine the entire place is the temperature of a summer night.) they have a whole wild west planet. leif builds things inexplicably. how? where does he get the materials??? shhhhh don't question it just let him have the gravity wave detector. nobody actually knows what engineers do, not even engineers. let him be. also time crystals??????

ALSO ava being a woman in stem and being so blunt yet covert about it. she's been dealing with it for so long. why are all (recognized) physicists a)white b) men c) both. it's such a sucky thing to work into because of the outward appearance. ava is a proud mad scientist which i aspire to so much. i am keeping her in my little arsenal of people to think about when i don't want to study. (picture the do it for her meme but it's pics of ava) I don't think i aptly put how much i love her. i'm not all the way finished yet but i've heard she was forced to marry someone? i think it would be a thing for sure if she cheated on him. so many physicists cheated on their spouses (wives ): ) and i think ava should also do it. as a treat. if that's what she'd like.

when people have done bad, bad things but show/are capable of redemption upon reflecting on their past/current shortcomings is just something that gets me so much directly in the heart. the hiddenness of people. the tragedy. we contain MULTITUDES and this show demonstrates that so well. how they support each other! they are everchanging and that's good for them. Leif the engineer the ex criminal the diner cook.

leif exploding a man in cold blood. if i could draw i'd draw that. maybe i will anyways.

food as a form of affection/way to bond. grief. doing your best. making amends. using the time you have. death is inevitable but that's okay.

And if time and tide roil you too harshly, or diurnal courses leave you with no safe havens, just remember we’re out there, somewhere, lookin’ for ya’

they open at six

#midnight burger #fiction podcasts #my rambles #hopefully this will get it out of my brain #i believe in womens (ava and gloria) rights and also their wrongs #we open at six

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color-coded-bear · 8 days ago

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SVSSS/KHR AU:

I'm incapable of brainrotting a piece of media w out making some sort of fusion/crossover AU, so now I've got SVSSS but in the KHR universe AU

Tianlang-jun would be a true earthling, thoough i haven't decided what flames he'd have. Aesthetically, I'd say Storm because red. But also, because of the whole heavenly demon healing, I wanna say Sun.

Zhuzhi-lang is half true earthling, half human. He is also with out a doubt a Cloud imo.

Also, Kawahira still exists in this AU because I absolutely do not trust TLJ to keep the Trinisette going, and so by extension the Giglio Nero line still exists as well. But this ain't about them rn, so we're going back to scum villain characters (Does this also mean KHR storyline continues on as in canon? Maybe! Haven't decided because a lot happens in KHR, but a lot also happens in SVSSS. Maybe they happen parallel to eachother and just never intersect. Who knows, I certainly don't!)

Su Xiyan is human and working under Huan Hua. I haven't decided if she'd be Sky, or some other flame type. A Sky would work in relation to a forever unattainable flame bond w tlj while also keeping her available to inherit HH. But a different flame type would work in relation to the OPM being scum and trying to lure SXY into his Harmony and keep her tied to him.

Regardless, it plays out how you'd expect, w SXY dying, TLJ incapacitated/imprisoned (I'm thinking trapped in Vendicare somehow), and Luo Binghe orphaned.

Cang Qiong and all the other Sects would be organized crime families to fit in canon. And Cang Qiong would continue to be a dozen sects/crime organizations in a trench coat pretending to be only one big sect/crime organization.

Yue Qingyuan would be a Sky, no doubt about it in my mind, but i haven't figured out who he'd be bonded to. Or if he'd even have anyone in his harmony.

Shen Qingqiu is a Cloud. I imagine people assume he's a Classic Cloud because of how he is and that he obviously has classic cloud traits- tho no one can figure out what his territory is- but in reality, he's an Inverted Cloud and just really good at pretending not to be, and only reason he remains with Cang Qiong instead of wandering away is because of YQY.

Speaking of, YQY and SQQ were once bonded, back when they were still street kids, but not anymore.

They were flame-active street kids who managed to keep their flames hidden, because it was well known that street kids who went flame active were taken and never seen again. But then Shen Jiu's flames were noticed by Qiu Jianluo and he was taken. (And then Yue Qi promised to save him, and we all know how that goes.)

The Qiu family is a wealthy family that amassed their wealth via criminal activity (a small one in the grand scheme of things tbh). And QJL is set to inherit, so finding a Cloud with no connections is great fortune. Clouds are rare and known to become powerhouses if they make it to adulthood, if he can force this stray cloud into his harmony, he'll be set! First however, he needs to train this little cloud into submission...

Shen Jiu endures the Qius for as long as he does, because he trusts his Qi-ge to come back for him, and feeling their bond still there comforts him throughout it all.

And then there bond breaks, and SJ can endure no more. The Qiu massacre occurs, and newly flame active Qiu Haitang who was unaware of her family's involvement in the underworld is the only survivor.

Shen Jiu is taken under the wing of Wu Yanzi, a Mist and a freelancer, who teaches SJ but also has his own ulterior motives for doing so.

And then, during a hit at a conference (haven't yet figured out what to replace the IAC with yet), SJ kills WYZ and meets YQ again, only now, he's Yue Qingyuan.

Their bond broke all those years ago and SJ nearly went into Discord over it. He had assumed that that meant YQY had died, because the only other way for a flame bond to break was if the Sky had chosen to break off a bond with an element.

So the fact that YQY was standing here in front of SJ alive and with flames stronger then before, meant that YQY had chosen to break off their flame bond and abandon SJ.

Obviously that's not what happened, but the chances of YQY actually explaining that is abysmally low.

So what actually happens, is that YQY gets recruited by Cang Qiong after catching the eye of the current Head/Boss. YQY works tirelessly and rises through the ranks until he's being considered heir to CQM (CQM doesn't do the whole "inheritance through blood" thing the rest of the Underworld does, they decide through other means.)

But "being considered" isn't enough to save Xiao Jiu. Not only that, but he's too desperate to wait. So he looks for a faster way to get stronger.

I'm not entirely sure what the Xuan Su equivalent will be in this AU. Currently I'm imagining a magic/cursed item or ring, as KHR has plenty of those things. Regardless, YQY takes this Xuan Su equivalent and.. Well. He gets stronger yes, but the immediate effects push him into Discord.

The current CQM Head obviously isn't happy about this, as YQY was going to be the heir to Qiong Ding, as well as his chance to ensure Qiong Ding continues leading CQM for another generation (CQM switches leadership around based on whichever peak manages to raise a Sky as an Heir, and QD has managed to keep up it's currently leadership for a few generations now. The current CQM Head doesn't wanna break the streak now. Does this system have drawbacks? Yes but we're not getting into that rn)

So he orders they do whatever is necessary to ensure YQY survives Discord. There's gonna be punishment later for breaking into a restricted area and stealing a magic artifact, but that's only if YQY survives.

Something they do while trying to make sure YQY survives, is break any possible flame bonds he has. There willll be some lash back on the other end, but they need all of YQY's flames uninterrupted/present while they work on him. Plus, bonds can be reforged at a later date.

YQY is too out of it to be aware of or object to what they're doing, and so his bond with SJ is broken.

YQY survives Discord, coming out the other end with Inverted Sky flames flipped and now Classic. Not only that, but he can no longer actually use his flames. (I actually haven't figured out the specifics of this, mainly because I can't decide if he'll still be able to form flame bonds or not. On one hand, it makes sense if he's expected to form flame bonds with some of his fellow CQM heads for inner sect politics. And it would allow for YQY to try to reforge his bond SQQ, only for SQQ to reject his harmony because he believes YQY is doing it out of pity and doesn't actually want SQQ in his harmony (thus leading to the rest of their martial siblings being outraged on YQY's behalf). But on the other hand, it'd be more tragic if the reason YQY and SQQ don't reforge their bond is because YQY can't and SQQ is left believing this is proof YQY doesn't want him anymore. A hard choice indeed.)

YQY is upset at the state of his flames, but what upsets him more is the loss of his bond with SJ. While dealing w the consequences of his actions, YQY at least comforts himself w the thought of seeing SJ again.

And then he learns of the Qiu massacre. While the media covers it up as a "freak fire" and "terrible accident", the rest of the Underworld know that wasn't actually the case.

YQY doesn't care about all that, instead, he's too devastated at the news that there was only one survivor and it wasn't his Xiao Jiu.

Cue YQY grieving whilst continuing on in a position that no longer matters to him if it means he can't use it to take care of/protect his Xiao Jiu.

And then he's at the (IAC equivalent) and there's SJ in front of him and alive.

Things progress from there as you'd expect them to, YQY and SJ angst, SJ joins CQM after YQY begs for him to, SJ joins QJ and becomes the current head's heir, etc etc.

I haven't figured out what the other peak lord's flame types are

Qi Qingqi is a Classic Cloud, born and raised in CQM, so Xian Shu is her territory. Making her a cloud also adds to her animosity with SQQ because there's always general friction between Clouds when their territories are too close together.

Mu Qingfang would be a Rain. Haven't decided if he's a Classic or an Inverted rain with really good self-discipline. While it'd probably make more sense to make him a Sun because of the whole healing association, I've always been a fan of unorthodox flame usage and I like the idea of MQF finding a way to use his rain flames to heal. His unique and unorthodox flame usage would be what helped him become the next Head to Qian Cao, too. I imagine they also help when dealing w difficult patients, too.

Liu Qingge would be an Inverted Sun. He mainly uses his flames to heal himself during hunts and as an excuse to avoid going to Qian Cao for medical assistance. The excuse works about 50% of the time.

I'm not entirely sure what Wei Qingwei would be tbh. Maybe a Lightning? TBH I don't have enough of a clue about him as a character yet to really figure out what flame type to give him.

I can't decide if I want Shang Qinghua to be a inverted Mist or a inverted Lightning. Mist suits OG!SQH, and also because it gives him the element of surprise because you wouldn't imagine someone from An Ding being a Mist. Lightning works because you'd expect someone from An Ding to be hardy, also, Lightning abilities are just all around very handy when dealing with goods.

(I also just liked the irony of Airplane transmigrating into a lightning after dying to electrocution, but that's only if i chose to go the transmigrators route.)

I can't actually decide what to do with Airplane and Shen Yuan in this AU. I could go the transmigrators route, but I also don't feel it suits this KHR AU very well.

I could make them already exist in the AU, but I don't know how I'd go about getting them involved with with everything else.

#svsss #svsss au

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