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briefinquiries · 6 months ago

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Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table.

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case.

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer. His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle.

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying.

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit.

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them. Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery.

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out.

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest.

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time. His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home.

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket. You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push.

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another.

But you had a way of always pulling him back in. Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings.

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right? So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims.

“No race preference either,” Luke observes.

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?”

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds.

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works.

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask.

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off.

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers. Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway.

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone. “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread.

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests.

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder..

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead.

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.” You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die.

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor. Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows. You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer, but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view.

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see. The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun. “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly.

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him. “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.

Even if it means I don’t.

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer. “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun.

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers

But you ignore him.

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet.

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters.

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.”

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill.

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement.

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet. “I said get in!” he screams.

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated.

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered.

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe.

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him.

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you. That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else.

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it.

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you.

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present.

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours.

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.

Until you see him.

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut Your smile quickly melts away.

…

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer. He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.

But he ignores you.

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence.

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart.

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether.

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat.

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did.

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet. “What were you thinking?”

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head. “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying.

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.” She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more.

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently.

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words.

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space.

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this.

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.

“What did I do?” you plead.

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain.

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you. “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?”

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense.

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment.

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now.

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever.

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true.

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.”

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.”

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach.

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper.

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid angst

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rothpie · 2 months ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part10

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning miscarriage, mentioning abortion, kind of depression, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy cramps, mentioning blood, mentioning losing someone, daddy issues, mentioning violence.

Selly’s note: I cried while writing this. Sorry not sorry.

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Everything that happened was terrifying. Waiting for the ambulance while covered in blood, the fear of not knowing what would happen—it left you feeling like you wouldn’t be able to shake it off for a while.

You were trying to piece your life back together. The loneliness here, the ever-present ache in your heart, had never really left you. Rafe wanting you to go through with the abortion, the struggle to embrace the idea of motherhood, knowing you’d have to do it alone, the hormones—everything about that time had been suffocatingly stressful.

Moments where you felt normal were rare. You couldn’t even remember if there were any times you truly enjoyed this pregnancy. It was just stress. Always stress.

You waited, you hoped for the stress to pass. You longed for a time when you’d leave it behind and start building better memories. But all that remained was the stress. And then you found yourself covered in blood, desperately searching for someone to help.

You thought all that stress might have been for nothing.

Was "nothing" even the right word? You hated yourself for even thinking about your baby in that way. But wasn’t it true?

You’d left everything behind. Rafe, your friends, your family, your home… everything. All to start a new life with just your baby girl.

Was everything you did leading to this—losing her?

“Stop stressing out.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut down the relentless thoughts. You couldn’t stop blaming yourself, your stupidity, your mistakes. Your hands instinctively rubbed your face, and for a moment, it felt like you’d never pull yourself back together. You felt like you needed a slap—maybe from yourself—to snap out of it.

JJ’s grip on your arm didn’t loosen. His other hand rested against your back, steadying you. “I hate this,” you murmured.

You felt drained. Your lower abdomen ached, waves of pain pulsed through your belly, and you’d lost so much blood. You knew you were on the verge of passing out but somehow managed to stay awake. The image of your blood on the floor was burned into your mind, dragging you back to that moment over and over again.

“Everything’s fine. I told you. Just stop stressing out.” But a gnawing feeling inside you said otherwise. It felt like you didn’t believe him. Like they weren’t telling you something—that you’d already lost the baby. It was paranoia, of course. Your obsessive, overthinking mind had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times.

Your hand rested on your belly. You wanted to feel her, even though you knew it was too early. Yet the faint swelling beneath your palm gave you some reassurance. “I can’t get it out of my head. It just—won’t go away. I’m scared.”

Admitting it out loud was never easy. But it was true. You were scared. Terrified.

You were scared you’d lose your daughter before you even had the chance to hold her. Scared that the life you’d imagined with her might never come to be.

The sound of ambulance sirens carrying you away from your home to the hospital sent chills down your spine. Knowing it could all end in an instant consumed you.

You hated it. You hated every ounce of it. God, you wanted this baby. You wanted to be a mother. You wanted to erase that brief moment when you’d considered an abortion from your memory.

For the first time, you felt like you had something to hold onto. You felt what it was like to love someone without even knowing them, seeing them, or meeting them. Listening to her heartbeat, staring at her ultrasound image, you felt that love. You saw it. Not Rafe, not anyone else. You saw how happy it made you.

You’d never felt so happy in your life. It was the happiest time you’d ever known. You loved your daughter unconditionally. You thought about her constantly—what she’d look like, her eye color, her nose, her tiny hands, how she’d look in the little outfits you’d bought—everything.

You wanted her. With all your heart and soul, you wanted her. You longed for the days when she’d be in your arms. You wished time would fly so those moments could arrive.

You loved someone without expecting anything in return.

The idea that she wouldn’t give you anything was ridiculous.

She was everything. She was already giving you the world. How could you not love her? The world might not revolve around you, but your world, your tiny, fragile world, was ready to revolve around her.

Rafe’s betrayal, the inability to trust anyone enough to share this pregnancy, had already shattered you. You’d hit rock bottom. And the only thing that could pull you out was clear—your little girl.

You lived for the thought of her. You woke up every day with her in mind. Even through the stress, you thought of her. Of your future together.

In this place, she was the only thing you had.

You couldn’t lose her. You didn’t want to. You were already bound to the idea of being her mother. She was the reason you got up every morning.

You hated this. You hated everything. You hated everything that threatened to take your daughter away from you. You hated how easily she could slip through your fingers, how a single moment could take her from you.

The hardest part was sitting in the hospital, bloodied and waiting for results. Your phone sat nearby, and you waited for any call other than JJ’s.

You felt like throwing up at the thought of having no one else to call. The person you reached out to, the person who tried for you, had only been in your life for four months. You weren’t even close. Barely a friend, certainly not a best friend, and definitely not a boyfriend.

He was just a kind-hearted guy.

The Kook-Pogue divide was real for you. They had money, power, influence—whatever. Not one of them had been there to catch you when you fell. Not one of them had reached out a hand to help.

What looked best on people, you’d decided, wasn’t jewelry or designer clothes. It was compassion.

You didn’t want to call yourself helpless, but you were. Struggling was normal. Flailing, failing to stand, that was normal. Accepting help was just as normal. It didn’t make you look foolish.

You didn’t regret calling Rafe. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at him. You couldn’t think about him when your whole body was screaming in pain. He wasn’t the focus.

Your mind was on your baby. On the results.

It took JJ two hours to show up. To be fair—this wasn’t to insult him—he didn’t have a penny to his name. Yet he still came. He left the island for you. You felt a twinge of guilt, but it blended with all the other things weighing on you. You couldn’t stop overthinking.

At some point, you felt like you’d turned to stone. You couldn’t cry. You could only breathe, think, exist. Until you saw JJ.

Was four months enough time to feel close to someone? You didn’t know. Especially considering the “friendship” you had with him. But the second you saw him, tears streamed down your face.

Seeing someone who made you feel safe, someone you didn’t have to hide your fears from, made you feel less alone.

In what felt like a moment meant to be, JJ wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say a word. As you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, you didn’t care how you looked. You saw warmth and security in the embrace, and you dove into it without hesitation.

Having someone there for you filled your heart with a quiet kind of comfort.

You cried and sobbed in his arms without shame. JJ didn’t seem to mind. You couldn’t see his face or hear his voice, but you felt his fingers brushing through your hair, his hand moving gently across your back to soothe you.

He held you. He didn’t let go. He just let you feel his presence. With every passing second, he slowly pulled the fear out of you. You didn’t need to say a single word—he understood.

You didn’t need to speak. Your actions said it all.

Crying in his arms during such a painful moment didn’t make you feel weak. Quite the opposite—it made you feel stronger. It gave you hope that somehow, everything would be okay.

He held you close until you calmed down. Maybe it was gross��perhaps you smelled of blood—but he didn’t care. When your sobbing turned into a quieter, monotonous rhythm, he pulled a chair beside the bed. Sitting next to you, he stroked your arm gently. He made sure you felt his presence—not just physically, but emotionally too. Whether he did it consciously or not, you couldn’t tell. But you felt it. He seemed to have a natural ease about him in moments like this.

Finding out it wasn’t a miscarriage brought relief. Knowing your baby was still there, still growing inside you, gave you a renewed sense of hope for the future. But with every piece of good news, there always seemed to be a shadow of bad news lurking.

The doctor explained that your pregnancy carried a higher risk of miscarriage. “It doesn’t mean you will,” the doctor clarified. “It’s just a possibility.”

Even so, the news left your mending heart with a fresh wound. You didn’t want to go through that same pain again; the thought terrified you. JJ stayed by your side, his reassuring touch grounding you, his hand resting firmly on your shoulder.

You felt as though you were observing the moment from the outside, watching the tension in your body slowly unravel. Like the fear was being drawn out of you, little by little.

The doctor’s words about potential causes lit up something in your mind.

Deli meats, infections, alcohol and smoking, certain herbal teas—

Your thoughts drifted to all those teas you’d sipped to ease your nausea. You felt like a complete fool.

You tried not to dwell on it, but the guilt still gnawed at you.

The doctor prescribed some vitamins to strengthen your pregnancy and support the baby’s health. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the IV drip to finish. JJ insisted you try to sleep. You doubted you could, and you were right. You drifted in and out of restless slumber.

By the time you left the hospital and arrived back at your house, dawn was breaking.

“I’m throwing out all the herbal teas in this house,” you muttered, reaching for the flowerpot where you hid your spare key. JJ stopped you midway, brushing past to reach the pot himself. He dug through the soil, found the key quickly, and turned toward the door.

“I’ll take care of the trash,” he said, struggling to unlock the door while you lingered behind him, taking deep breaths and letting your eyes wander. It didn’t help. You just wanted to peel off the hospital clothes clinging to your skin and step into a shower to wash away the ache.

When JJ finally got the door open, your eyes darted skyward. The air was cool in a way you loved, and the crispness of the morning felt oddly soothing.

The sound of the door closing snapped your focus back to JJ. He was looking at you too. You opened your mouth to ask why he’d shut the door when you remembered what the inside must look like. There was probably blood on the floor. Maybe he was grossed out—

“Oh…” Your eyes widened as you reached for the key in his hand, but he moved it behind his back. “I—I forgot all about that. Look, let me—let me just… I’ll take care of it.”

You watched his face shift into something complicated as he blocked your attempt. “You sit,” he said quietly, his hands guiding you gently but firmly toward the steps. You blinked at him, confused.

You really didn’t understand.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to clean up blood,” he muttered. When the meaning behind his words clicked, you tried to get up quickly but winced as a sharp pain cut through your abdomen. You slumped back down, clutching the nearest surface. You hadn’t even realized it was JJ’s arm.

“Easy,” he said, crouching instantly to check on you. “Are you okay? I can take you right back to the hospital if—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, shaking your head even as the pain subsided. You exhaled deeply and leaned back. “I just forgot what the place looked like inside. If you help me up, I’ll go in and—”

JJ’s gaze stopped you mid-sentence. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he thought you were serious. His hands stayed firm on your arms, scanning your face for any sign you weren’t okay so he could haul you right back to the ER.

“Stop,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. It froze you in place. “Do you really think I’d let you clean that up? Not a chance.”

Your eyes flicked from the closed door back to him. You hadn’t realized his thumb was tracing a soothing pattern on your arm. “But when you closed the door, I thought—”

“I didn’t want you to see it again, that’s all.” His voice softened. “Just that.”

It wasn’t something you were used to—this kind of kindness, this tolerance. As the silence stretched between you, you looked away, unsure of how to respond. His thumb kept moving in steady circles against your skin.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, his grip on your arm briefly tightening to get your attention. JJ took a deep breath and glanced at the key in his hand. “You tell me where the cleaning supplies are. I’ll go in, clean it all up, and you sit here until I’m done. Got it?”

Gentle parenting. Again.

Your head nodded on its own, and JJ’s face lit up with a small smile. His dimples caught your eye before his touch slipped away and he stood.

“Under the kitchen sink,” you murmured. JJ nodded as if committing your words to memory before heading to the door. “Be right back,” he said, disappearing inside and leaving the door ajar.

The feeling that bubbled up in you was impossible to describe. Strange. Having someone step in to help, to take charge of something for you—it was unfamiliar. JJ, of all people.

Sure, you were friends, but this? This was something else. You didn’t know how to feel or what to say, only that it left you warm despite the chill outside.

You’d expected to clean up the mess yourself, even for a moment. You weren’t lying; the thought made your stomach turn. Cleaning someone else’s blood? That wasn’t your thing.

But your stomach hadn’t turned when it came to JJ. When he’d been lying in your guest bathroom, covered in blood, you hadn’t flinched. Bandaging his wounds, cleaning him up so he wouldn’t get an infection—it hadn’t fazed you.

You found yourself wondering what he thought about you. You were just a kook girl—Rafe’s ex, rich, golf clubs, parties. You weren’t anything special. The most notable thing about you right now was being pregnant.

It was weird that JJ would even want to be friends with you, that this was what had brought you together. Would he treat you the same if you weren’t pregnant? Would he still be so kind, so compassionate?

And what about you?

Would you have been this open to befriending a troubled guy if your circumstances were reversed?

The thought didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t fair to boil it down to pity or your pregnancy. Your friendship felt real. JJ wasn’t risking his neck for some random pregnant girl—he was doing it for a friend.

JJ would do anything for his friends. That’s just who he was.

And you were his friend. At least, that’s how you saw him. But what about him? Did he see you the same way, or had you misread everything?

“Nice place you’ve got here.” His voice startled you. You jumped and turned to see him standing close, smiling faintly. “All done. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

JJ held out his hand to help you up, and you wondered how long he’d been there. You didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and he quickly offered the other to steady you. “Slowly,” he said, helping you to your feet with careful precision. He didn’t let go, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort.

“You good?” he asked, his tone uncertain. His hands stayed firm, waiting for confirmation. His eyes were searching yours.

You nodded. “I’m good,” you murmured.

JJ’s face broke into a proud smile. “I left the place spotless. You could eat off the floor,” he said, chuckling as he released one hand to rest the other gently on your back. He guided you through the open door, and you couldn’t help but notice how clean the floor really was. Not a single stain remained.

You let him lead you inside, wanting to thank him but unable to find the words.

“Hungry?” you asked, desperate for a distraction. His eyes met yours, his brows lifting in surprise before he shrugged.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head, but deep down, all you wanted was to find a way to repay him.

JJ stepped back a bit and quickly shut the door. You watched him as he scanned the room. His eyes didn’t linger on you for long; instead, they wandered around your living room. “Nice place.”

You nodded in agreement. You liked your home. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for you. “I like it too.”

When JJ placed his hand on your back, you walked together. You needed a shower, but the dull ache in your stomach made you feel uneasy. “I’m going to shower.”

When you said it, looking at him, JJ quickly nodded. He stayed by your side as you made your way to the stairs, helping you up to the second floor. But a sharp pain in your stomach made you stop dead in your tracks. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. Everything still felt terrifying.

JJ’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He stepped in front of you, holding your hand, leaning down to catch your gaze as if to check if something was wrong. “Shit…”

As JJ stared at you with wide, worried eyes, you squeezed his hand. It felt like a heavy period cramp, but after what had happened, you couldn’t treat it as just normal. “Shit. What do I do? Do you need me to do something—?” You shook your head. You opened your mouth to tell him you’d be fine, but JJ kept rambling. “Do you want to sit? Let’s sit. Or I can bring you water—damn it. Just tell me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“JJ, baby is okay, calm down.” When you looked up and spoke, you met JJ’s worried gaze. He’d stopped talking, but you could still see the panic in his eyes.

You steadied yourself, gripping his hand for extra support, and took a deep breath. “I’m more worried about whether you’re okay.” JJ placed his hand on your back again, opening the bathroom door with the other hand, while his brow furrowed. The silence in the house as he moved around felt eerie to you. “I’ll wait by the door until you’re done, okay? Just call out if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”

He looked at you as if seeking confirmation. “Okay.”

Your response seemed to satisfy him. He quickly stepped back, holding the door. “I’m right here. Just say my name.” Then, he closed the door.

You weren’t sure how to feel. Honestly, you didn’t want to feel anything. This shower wasn’t about comfort; it was about necessity. It was a mission to wash away the filth you felt clinging to you.

So the shower was quick.

You cleaned yourself up and stepped out, wrapping yourself in a robe. Before leaving the bathroom, you caught your reflection in the mirror one last time. Your face was almost ghostly pale.

When you opened the door to leave, you found JJ sitting on the floor across from the bathroom, leaning against the wall. He was nearly dozing off, but the sound of the door opening made his eyes snap wide open. He rubbed his face quickly and pushed himself up with the wall for support. “You okay?” he asked the moment he got to his feet. He was standing right in front of you.

You nodded. “I’m going to set up the guest room for you.” You didn’t want him sleeping on the floor or wherever he might end up. You both needed rest. He’d stayed awake the entire evening. You’d tried to sleep but hadn’t really managed to. Rest was overdue for both of you.

As you crossed your arms over your chest and took a step toward the guest room, JJ’s hand on your arm stopped you. “I’m fine. I don’t need to sleep.”

Liar. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to sleep too.” JJ shook his head as if he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Doesn’t matter. You might need me. What if I don’t wake up? What if I don’t hear you—” JJ ran his hands through his hair, glancing around, visibly anxious.

“I’m going to sleep too. If I need anything, I promise I’ll call for you. Please.” Your words, especially the plea, seemed to break through to him. He dropped his gaze to the floor, weighing your words.

“Fine,” he mumbled, his tone almost defeated. Then, he looked up at you. “But only after I know you’re asleep.”

You had no idea where this sudden surge of protectiveness had come from, but—it wasn’t unwelcome. Damn.

You were surprised he gave in so quickly. You thought he’d argue longer. Nodding, you agreed. “I’ll show you your room.”

He followed you to the guest room silently. Afterward, you didn’t exchange many words. You went to your own room and shut the door.

The doctor had mentioned there might be some light spotting for a few more days. It was unnerving, but they assured you it was normal. Just small amounts, they’d said, but if it got heavy, you’d need to go to the hospital. That would be a warning sign.

You slipped off your robe and put on fresh undergarments. The mirror in front of you offered a full view of your stomach. Your hand drifted over the slight swell, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Knowing they were still there was everything.

And the small bump—it looked so perfect. You loved it. Pregnancy suited you in a way you hadn’t expected. You felt—beautiful. Just...different, but in the best way.

Was this a pregnancy kink?

No. Definitely not. But seeing yourself like this made you feel strong. Attractive.

You pulled your gaze from the mirror and grabbed a T-shirt and sweatpants from your closet. After getting dressed, you stepped out of your room, wanting to check on JJ. “JJ?” you called out. His door was open.

“What happened? Shit—” A loud noise came from his room, and your brows furrowed. JJ rushed out of the doorway, looking frantic. “What’s wrong? God, did something happen?”

On any other day, you might’ve laughed at this, but now didn’t seem like the time. To calm him down, you placed a hand on his chest. “JJ, relax. I’m fine, okay? I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

JJ closed his eyes for a moment, realizing nothing was wrong. He let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging slightly.

With a grin, you teased, “Could you maybe dial down the panic a bit?”

JJ ruffled his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, shaking his head. “You scared me,” he said finally, his voice serious enough to wipe the smile off your face.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could hear the heaviness in his breathing. “God—you really scared me. I just—I don’t know. The thought of something happening and not being there...” His hands moved nervously, and he didn’t blink.

“Getting a call like that, in the middle of the night, from a friend—do you know how terrifying that is? Don’t expect me to be calm, not right now. Do you know what went through my head in those two hours it took to get to you?” His voice wasn’t angry, just filled with a kind of helplessness. You stayed quiet, letting him get it all out.

“Not being able to reach you during those minutes... God—when you told me you were alone here, my only thought should be to get to you. If I had been here sooner, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” He shut his eyes tightly. You shook your head and grabbed his arms to stop him.

“This was my choice,” you said, watching the sorrow in JJ’s face like a weight pressing on your chest. “Moving here, deciding to be on my own—that was my choice.”

“As your friend, I shouldn’t have let you be alone. Especially now, when you’re so vulnerable. I should’ve checked on you—” JJ seemed bent on blaming himself. Despite knowing it was your decision, he couldn’t shake the thought that he should’ve been there for you.

As your friend.

You hadn’t expected it to feel this heavy. This feeling, of having a real friend—it was weighty in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not painful, just...profound, because it was the first time you’d truly had it.

Having someone who genuinely cared—it was overwhelming.

“JJ, I chose this. None of this is your fault.”

“I should’ve been there.”

For a moment, you thought you saw JJ’s eyes glisten, but he quickly turned his head away. Even if he had been there, there was nothing he could’ve done, and he didn’t seem to understand that. You hadn’t fallen, you hadn’t hurt yourself. There was nothing to save you from.

JJ ran a hand through his hair, as he always did. “Oh God...” Then, you felt his hand settle on your back, pulling you into a tight embrace. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him.

When one of JJ’s hands moved into your damp hair, you closed your eyes tightly. For a while, neither of you said a word. You just stayed there, holding on.

“You didn’t dry your hair again, did you?” His words came in one breath, followed by a small smile tugging at his lips. You pulled back slightly to look at him. JJ’s hand slid away from your hair, but the one on your back stayed firm. Your arms had loosened just a bit, yet the two of you remained close enough to touch.

“Old habits.” You noticed his lips curling up too, though his eyes were a little red.

“That’s a habit we’ll have to break. I’m drying your hair—no way am I letting you get sick.”

You stepped back, nodding at him. When he gestured toward the bathroom with his head, you laughed and walked ahead, leaving him to follow. He really was going to dry your hair, huh?

What a gentleman.

You were too shy to offer, too worried you’d say something dumb and ruin the moment. But the way he acted—so considerate—made you feel seen.

Maybe you shouldn’t let him. It felt like crossing a line. Then again, he’d called you his friend. Confirmed that you were his friend.

“Would you stay with me for a few days?” The words tumbled out before you could overthink them. If you hesitated even a second longer, you would’ve said nothing at all. You’d only mull it over and eventually bury it in fear.

JJ glanced at you while plugging in the hairdryer. “I’m not leaving you. Honestly, even if you hadn’t asked, I was already planning to stay.” His dimples appeared with his grin.

Your lips mirrored his, stretching into a big smile. JJ turned on the dryer and began working on your hair.

"Is this my shirt?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you quickly turned your gaze toward JJ. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a shirt—the one he had given you at the beach. That day you both fell asleep on the boat.

"I figured you’d have tossed it by now," he said, spinning the shirt lazily in his hand, a grin tugging at his lips. Even from a distance, you could see his dimples.

"That’s mine now."

JJ’s eyes snapped to yours, his eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He gestured at the shirt dramatically. "This? This has always been mine. And it will stay mine."

Without a second thought, you placed the fruit bowl from your lap onto the couch and stood up. As you walked toward him, you couldn’t miss the playful smirk on his face.

"Not anymore," you replied, yanking the shirt from his hands. After all, it was given to you, and you had no intention of giving it back. Besides, it was soft, and you liked it. That was that. Turning on your heel, you headed back to the couch, ready to resume eating your strawberries.

"Possessive, huh? Hot."

You paused mid-sit, narrowing your eyes at him, his mischievous smile still plastered across his face. "You’re disgusting."

You settled into the couch, the sound of JJ’s laughter echoing as you tucked the shirt behind you, out of his reach. The fruit bowl returned to your lap, and you focused on the reality show playing on TV.

A moment later, you heard JJ’s footsteps. He vaulted over the back of the couch and sprawled lazily a short distance away from you. Half-reclining, he tilted his head to look at you, propping it up with his hand. "You mad at me?"

You shrugged as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. "What would I even be mad about? Don’t flatter yourself."

Apparently emboldened by your response, JJ reached for the fruit bowl in your lap. Without missing a beat, you swatted his hand away.

"Because you’re not worth it," you added with a smirk, knowing it would sting.

JJ’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, his hand clutching his chest dramatically as he gasped, loud and theatrical. What a drama queen.

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but it was hard—especially with him acting like this.

JJ had been staying with you for a few days now—nearly a week. He’d told his friends he had "stuff to do," but really, his only task had been keeping you company. Not that he admitted it outright.

The first few days had been awkward for both of you. You were tense, and he was, well, JJ. But by the third day, you’d fallen into a rhythm.

Turns out your family hadn’t been ignoring your calls—they were simply on a flight. That made sense, so you didn’t hold it against them. You didn’t even tell them about the scare. You just mentioned a bad dream, said you’d worried about them. It wasn’t exactly true, but there was no point in alarming them over something that had already passed.

So, you acted like nothing had happened.

Talking to Rafe, though? That had been strange. Hearing his voice after so many months had stirred something in you—a wound you’d thought had healed.

At first, you hadn’t planned on answering his call. You wanted to ignore it, let it ring out. But when he called a second time, you couldn’t stop yourself from picking up, even though part of you wanted to tell him to leave you alone.

You didn’t regret it. Even now, if you were in the same situation, you’d do it again. It wasn’t stupidity—it was necessity. Back then, you’d needed all the help you could get.

You’d lied to him, claiming you were drunk. It wasn’t the most believable excuse, given your condition, but it had slipped out before you could think. After that, you ended the call and prayed he wouldn’t bother you again.

He didn’t.

Rafe didn’t call or text again—not that he ever really had before.

So, you pushed him from your mind, or at least tried to. You focused on JJ instead, and it helped.

With him, you laughed, watched movies, and, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so alone.

The sound of someone else’s voice in your house, the way he teased you, the comfort of knowing someone cared—it made you feel lighter. Happier.

You even found yourself enjoying little things: the morning sounds of the TV downstairs, the smell of something burning as JJ attempted breakfast, the way his footsteps echoed through the halls. It felt… normal. Like how things were supposed to be.

Could you manage on your own? Sure. But having someone there? That felt better.

And the house was big—plenty of room for two. Maybe even three.

In just a week, you’d laughed more than you had in all the time you’d lived there. Maybe it was JJ’s personality, or maybe it was simply having someone around. Either way, you weren’t complaining.

You especially appreciated his presence during the harder moments. Like when nausea hit, or when you needed something and he showed up with hot chocolate instead of tea, filling the house with its sweet smell.

It was a rhythm you hadn’t known you’d needed. Even mundane things, like ordering takeout because neither of you felt like cooking, or going on morning walks together, had a way of making everything seem a little brighter.

You’d never spent this much time with him before. And yet here he was, nearly a week in, and it felt… easy.

But there were moments, fleeting as they were, when you couldn’t help but wonder how he treated his other friends—John B, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. You didn’t like the feeling it gave you. You weren’t usually the jealous type, but it burned in the back of your mind.

Did he treat them like this? Were they as close as you two had been these past days? You hated the thought, not because it was JJ, but because you’d never had that kind of friendship before.

That kind of closeness, the ease of it—it was foreign to you. And you wanted it, even if you hated admitting it.

JJ poked your exposed stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. His finger traced lazy circles on your skin as his eyes met yours. "Did I interrupt something?"

You shook your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not at all."

When you smiled at him, he grinned back without hesitation. JJ’s smiles were contagious, impossible to resist.

"You were zoning out," he said. "I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t answer."

"I didn’t even notice." You straightened your posture slightly, meeting his curious gaze.

JJ’s eyes dropped back to your stomach, and he smirked as he poked it again. "Your mom says I can’t eat the fruit. Hey, you hear me in there?"

He was speaking to your bump now, as though he expected a response. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

"When will she start kicking?" he asked, glancing up at you.

You pulled the hem of your shirt higher, resting your hand on your belly. "The books say around five months, so… anytime now, I guess."

JJ nodded, his hand resting next to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

“Are you going to share your fruit with me now?” JJ smirked as he asked, and when you started laughing at his words, he straightened up, sitting upright on the couch. You adjusted your shirt slightly, and you could feel his eyes lingering.

You turned your head toward him. “Are you going to tattle on me to my daughter again?” You asked him seriously, raising an eyebrow. JJ shook his head dramatically.

“Not if you hand over a few strawberries.” With a sigh, you gave in, holding out the bowl in your lap. He snatched a strawberry quickly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

“You can be so stubborn sometimes.” You grabbed a strawberry yourself, mirroring him. JJ leaned over to grab the remote from the table, letting out a small chuckle.

“Me? Stubborn? Please. Not when you’re around—impossible.” He leaned back into the couch, flipping through channels like he wasn’t just going to end up opening YouTube anyway.

The past few days, all he’d done was either watch movies or binge random YouTube videos. It was official—he was an iPad kid.

“Me? What stubbornness are you even talking about?” He finally turned his gaze away from the TV, arching an eyebrow at you. His expression practically screamed, ‘Seriously?’.

“From the moment we met, all you’ve done is argue about everything. Don’t even try to deny it; I know you too well for that.” His tone was calm, but there was a teasing edge to it, one he clearly added on purpose just to get under your skin. And it was working. You were sure of it.

“And all you ever do is... complain,” you shot back, saying the first thing that came to mind. JJ laughed dryly, his attention drifting back to the TV.

Of course, it wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he was as stubborn as you, but still.

“This debate is officially over. You’ve lost. Completely.” You couldn’t help but laugh again before lunging forward, trying to snatch the remote from his hand. “Hand it over.”

JJ, startled by your sudden move, tried to pull away quickly, but he was already at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. It didn’t take much effort to grab the remote from him.

He could’ve made it harder for you. He could’ve easily hidden the remote or kept it away. But you knew JJ well enough to know he’d never risk accidentally hurting you, not even slightly. Instead, as you leaned over him, he instinctively steadied you with one hand to make sure you didn’t fall.

“Whoa, claws in, tiger!”

With the remote firmly in your grasp, you plopped back onto your spot on the couch. You grabbed the bowl of strawberries sitting between you two and moved it to your other side for good measure before immediately exiting YouTube. “We’re watching what I want. You— you—”

“What about me?” JJ’s tone was playful, his eyes fixed on you with an amused look. He was clearly enjoying this—watching you get all flustered. You wanted to smack that grin right off his face. Preferably with the remote.

“You don’t deserve it.” JJ’s laughter echoed so loud you felt like it could’ve been heard across the whole street. It sounded... annoyingly fun. But you didn’t look back at him. You flipped through channels until you landed on some trashy reality show. That’s what you’d watch, whether he liked it or not.

“A dumb reality show deserves your attention, but I don’t? Really, princess?” You nodded furiously, biting into another strawberry for emphasis.

Damn hormones. They were driving you crazy.

“Alright, white flag. Let’s call a truce. Deal?” He extended his hand toward you, his grin still smug. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying messing with you.

For a brief second, you considered ignoring him. Leaving his hand hanging and pretending you didn’t notice. Just keeping your focus on the TV.

But it was only a fleeting thought. Before you knew it, you were shaking his hand. “For now,” you said, your tone warning. JJ just nodded, satisfied.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, your phone buzzed on the table, grabbing both your attention. John B’s name and picture lit up the screen. You pulled your hand back from JJ’s as he adjusted his posture, glancing at the phone for a moment before picking it up, slow and deliberate. Holding it in one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other.

“I’ll take this outside,” he said, standing up and waiting a beat, as if for your approval. When you nodded, he gave a short nod back and headed for the porch.

You watched through the glass door as JJ paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. It was strange, watching him like this—like you were peeking into a part of his world you didn’t belong to. There was a tension in his posture, something that contrasted sharply with his usual carefree energy.

As he talked, you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up just to give your hands something to do. But your mind kept drifting back to him. Watching him through the door felt like glimpsing a piece of his life he hadn’t shared with you.

When you finished, JJ came back inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes immediately found yours, and he hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how to tell you something. Hands shoved in his pockets, he took a few steps closer.

“What is it?” You dropped the cloth you were holding, giving him your full attention. JJ shrugged, his expression suddenly unreadable, but it gave you the sinking feeling something was off.

“John B and Sarah are getting married in two days,” he said finally, his voice low but clear.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. “Seriously? I mean, I figured this day would come, but—cute.”

JJ nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But there was something behind it, something you couldn’t quite place, like a shadow lingering just out of sight. “Yeah, John B proposed a while back. They had to delay it because of... stuff, but I guess it’s happening now.”

When JJ scratched the back of his neck, you could feel his unease, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. The news brought a strange ache to your chest—a reminder that you weren’t really a part of his world, his friends. You didn’t even know them. And the thought of JJ not being here... it crept in before you could stop it.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” The words slipped out before you could catch them, sounding more like an admission than a question, like you were bracing yourself for the inevitable.

You’d known this day would come. But still—whatever.

JJ looked at you, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he said slowly, his tone hinting at reluctance. “But... what about you? Have you reached out to your mom? Can she come here?”

You shook your head, your hands gripping the marble counter instinctively. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them about the hospital thing, so… they might find it weird.”

JJ nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he nudged at the floor with his foot like he was playing with something invisible. He looked uncomfortable.

“John B still doesn’t know you’re not living with your dad?” The question slipped out before you could stop it. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but if he was planning to go back to the island, you had to know. You didn’t want him living on the streets—or worse, finding him bloodied and bruised again. Especially now that you weren’t there on the island, the thought of him sleeping out in the open sent a pang through your chest.

The silence between you was brief, but it hung heavy. JJ’s furrowed brow made it clear that he was just as unsettled as you were. He took a long breath, his head tilting slightly downward. “John B doesn’t know I don’t talk to my dad,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute.

His words tightened something deep inside you. When you looked at him, you could see the tension etched on his face. “Only Pope knows,” he added, his shoulders tensing slightly as if bracing for a reaction.

That revelation only deepened the stillness between you. Seeing the cracks in JJ’s life hurt you and confused you at the same time. But you didn’t want to make it worse by pointing it out. You held back, careful not to say anything that might hurt him further.

You hated the silence that lingered between you two. It wasn’t like either of you to leave things hanging like this during tense moments. It felt... wrong.

“I could leave tonight if you want,” JJ said after a while, his tone still calm but firm. “Or… tomorrow. Whatever works for you.”

His words stung, fanning the ache that was already growing inside you. You knew he needed to leave, but you still wanted him to stay. You’d grown so used to having him around—spending time with him had been comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. The idea of him leaving now made something in you twist uncomfortably.

You closed your eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. When you opened them and looked at him, you hesitated, weighing the words you wanted to say. Was it selfish? Too much to ask? What if he said no? You knew he had to go, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him to stay.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your gaze to him. “Maybe…” you started, your voice dropping to a near whisper, “maybe you could think about staying here after— wedding?”

JJ’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to figure out what you really meant. The room was so quiet, you could hear the sound of both your breaths.

He said your name softly, like he was testing the weight of it. Then he paused, his lips parting as if to speak before closing them again without saying anything.

His surprise was written all over him. His lips slightly parted, his gaze locked onto yours, JJ looked completely unsure of what to do. Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

“I know…” you said, dropping your gaze to the floor. Your voice was shaky and gentle, laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to showing. It felt ridiculous to even have this conversation. You hadn’t realized you could be this bold. “I know you have to go. Your friends are waiting for you. But… if you wanted to, I mean—” You hesitated, your words barely audible now. “I’d be happy to have you stay here.”

JJ stayed quiet for another beat, his expression distant but conflicted. Whatever you’d said had clearly struck a chord with him. The idea seemed to catch him off guard but also made him think.

He said your name again, softer this time. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he hesitated for a long moment. “It’s… not that simple. I mean…” His hand went up to his hair, fingers pushing through it as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My friends are there. My life’s… there. You know?” He exhaled deeply, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Seeing the indecision in his eyes made your chest tighten. Am I asking too much? Am I a burden? The thought of him choosing you over everything else felt naïve. Not that it was about choosing you exactly, but still… expecting him to stay felt foolish.

His friends had been his whole world for years. Would he really leave them behind just because you asked? Would he abandon everything like you had, even for a little while?

For JJ, staying meant leaving his friends behind. Watching everyone’s lives from a distance instead of being part of the chaos. And coming back afterward? It might make things even messier.

But then again… he knew things weren’t the same anymore. They weren’t high school kids chasing trouble anymore. They’d grown up, and with that came responsibilities. Responsibilities that seemed to pull them all in different directions, slowly but surely.

Pope and Cleo were working for Pope’s dad, figuring out their own lives while enjoying being together. Kiara was helping her parents with the family business. John B and Sarah were preparing to start a family. And JJ… JJ felt like he was drifting. Like the ties that once bound them together were fraying.

“They all seem to have something,” JJ said suddenly, his voice distant. He wasn’t even looking at you now, his thoughts clearly spiraling. He didn’t know what answer to give you. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he wanted for himself. He just… didn’t want to keep drifting.

“You have something too,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but sure. “You’ve been here for me. You helped me when I was alone. When I was scared… you were here.” When you finished, you looked at him, watching closely for his reaction.

JJ shifted uncomfortably at your words. His eyes seemed to weigh them carefully. There was still hesitation in his expression, but something else was there too. Maybe guilt. Maybe understanding.

He didn’t really have anywhere to go. His relationship with his dad was a disaster, and he had no intention of fixing it. He couldn’t crash at John B’s place forever—gosh, the guy was getting married. Sarah would probably put a lock on their door. He couldn’t just hang around like their adopted kid.

Pope’s house? Already too crowded, with Cleo practically living there at this point. And Kiara’s parents? Yeah, they absolutely hated him. Living on the streets forever wasn’t an option either...

The silence stretched on. Time seemed to slow, pressing down on the two of you like an invisible weight. The only sound was the faint rustling of the trees outside in the wind. JJ looked at you, and when his eyes met yours, something inside you cracked. Asking him to stay felt like you were adding to the burdens he already carried. But it wasn’t selfish—you weren’t demanding or desperate. There was a fragility in the way you asked, a quiet understanding between the two of you. In that moment, JJ realized you were just as lost as he was.

“I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet and hesitant. “But—” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours again. “It’s not forever. Just… for a while. We’ll figure out what comes next together.”

The wave of relief that washed over you was overwhelming. A grin spread across your face, and you shifted in place, resisting the urge to throw your arms around him.

JJ deciding to stay wasn’t just about his circumstances—it was about trust, about the connection you shared. But you could also see that it wasn’t an easy decision for him. He felt alone, in a way that mirrored your own loneliness.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, staring into the distance for a moment. “Sometimes,” he started softly, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. So… maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”

You smiled at him, your lips trembling slightly at the edges. “JJ,” you said gently, your voice steady but warm, “We’ll be okay.”

JJ didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He shook his head lightly and said, “Yeah. We will.” There was something different in his eyes this time—something warmer, more at peace.

You couldn’t put into words the happiness you felt in that moment. This was what communication was about. If you hadn’t asked, you would’ve been left feeling miserable, JJ would’ve walked away, and you’d have been alone. But now…

He was staying. With you.

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rooksamoris · 7 months ago

Note

Woke up, first thing I did was see your response to my request! I love it! You have done well in spreading the Jamil L/N agenda.

Here is my next request: a confession/proposal scenario.

Reader confesses, Jamil tries rejecting them but reader knows him too well and asks for the real reason. Cue his usual "you deserve better than a servant" & "I don't want to trap you in a life of servanthood". Reader, completely unfazed, just goes "then just marry into my family". Cue blushy Jamil cause he somehow got a confession and a proposal all at once. Before he can overthink Kalim just busts through the door going "YES! I'LL PAY FOR IT!" (he was eavesdropping).

💞 — in which jamil rejects you and then rethinks it.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort vibes, metaphor of burning skin on sand used

💞 — around 750 words. im obsessed with jamil taking his lover's last name to escape servitude. so sorry this took sooooo long!! im getting to requests and asks asap <3

“No.” You did not even get the chance to complete your confession before he suddenly hit you with a rejection. A cold rejection at that. You recoiled, pulling your offering with you, and your brows furrowed. “You didn’t even let me fin—” Jamil sighed, seeming exasperated with you, “It’s so obvious what you’re about to say,” he tells you, before turning around, his long dark hair following him and swaying. To be fair, you were quite obvious. He could see exactly what you were about to do. He had noticed the way you had been looking at him lately. If you were not talking to him, you were gazing at him longingly somewhere in the corner instead of paying attention to what Grim or Ace was saying. You made it even more obvious with how you showed up, bearing gifts in your hands and constantly touching up your appearance. If he were anyone else, he would have reassured you that you looked amazing instead of just rejecting you before you could say a word. Before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist. Perhaps you were suddenly possessed with the confidence of the Red Queen, or maybe you were just stupid, but you did it and now had to deal with it, “At least tell me why,” you pleaded.

His heart broke a little when he heard the tremble of your voice. You bit the inside of your lip to keep anything else from escaping. This was the last thing you wanted to happen. Your fingers slipped away from his wrist and you averted your gaze in embarrassment. “I’d never have any time for you,” he said, simply, keeping his head turned away from you, “I’m very busy taking care of Kalim as is… it would be dhulm (cruel) to do that to you,” he added. That was the last thing he wanted to say. He knew this confession was coming for a while and prepared himself to reject you from the first time he felt your lingering gaze. What he wanted to say was that he wanted you to. Jamil would have used his bare hands to dig through layers of scalding desert sands for just a sip of what your love could have been like. He would have worn the burn scars like a trophy—a testament to his love and devotion. Instead, he said no. Before you could speak, he held a hand up to silence you, “I can’t give you the life that you want to live. You’d be bound to servitude for just being mine.” He loved the thought of that. Being able to call you his was a dream, and it would stay a dream. When his blood was spilled, it did not hold even a bit of value, and he could not bind you to him and make your blood as worthless as his. There would be no ceremonies when he died, no pretty tombstones, and few people who would care enough to attend. He did not have it in him to make that your fate as well. You stared at him in disbelief, your nose scrunching up slightly as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. It was a forceful tug, causing him to stumble forward a bit, and you took your chance, pressing your forehead to his. Those eyes of yours were piercing and determined. “Marry into my family. Take my last name, and Viper servitude would be a thing of the past.” His hands were suddenly torn out of the scalding sands which burned them. He stared at you in pure shock, a blush rising from his neck, to his ears and finally painting his pretty brown cheeks. His brows were knitted—the words dared not to spill out of his lips. “H–Huh… wait—you can’t be—” Before he could speak, Kalim barged in with a wide grin on his lips, throwing himself against you and Jamil and tugging you both close in a hug, “I’ll pay for it! It will be the most grand occasion! We’ll even dress up the camels—” As Kalim rambled, Jamil looked over at your pretty, smiling face. You were laughing at Kalim’s words and planning the occasion along with him, as if you would be married tomorrow and not years from now. His gaze softened, and when your eyes met his, you knew he accepted your confession. Finally, he could let someone mend the burns the sand left on his palms.

#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst headcanons

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screaminglygay · 6 months ago

Text

third time is a charm, right? (part five)

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda x nat, wandanat x fem!reader

summary: your first time with wanda and natasha.

warnings: this is 99% smut, dom!nat, switch!wanda, sub!reader, aftercare, dirty talk, praising, swearing, fingering, making out, oral, a bit of overthinking

word count: 3.1k

an: this one took me forever to write, since it´s mostly smut, but next part will be more interesting, so i´m exited about that! stay tuned, my friends!

(italica = your thoughts)

You’re caught between them. You can feel Wanda and Natasha touching you, their lips on you, their firm yet gentle hands on you, their scent everywhere. You need more, no you crave more.

The room feels like it’s spinning as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, every touch is like a adrenaline rush going up and down your spine.

But then, Natasha pulls away, her breathing heavy, a look of restraint on her face. She glances at Wanda, noticing how lost you both are in each other. With a gentle tap on Wanda’s shoulder, Natasha breaks the spell.

“Wanda,” Natasha says softly.

Wanda, eyes half-lidded with desire, blinks and pulls away, exhaling a deep, longing sigh.

Natasha’s voice is firm, a small smile playing on her lips. “We still have things to discuss, even though I have to say she is very irresistible.”

Wanda sighs again, her eyes lingering on you. “I know…”

You straighten on the couch with a bit confussion in your eyes, they both sit close but giving you enough .pace to calm down a bit. Natasha takes a deep breath, her gaze sincere.

“We want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Natasha begins. “This arrangement is about mutual pleasure, but it’s important that we establish clear boundaries and open communication.”

Wanda nods, her hand gently squeezing yours for reassurance. “We need to know what you’re comfortable with, what your limits are. This isn’t just about us—it’s about all of us enjoying this experience.”

You feel a mixture of frustration and gratitude for their considerate approach.

Ugh- I want their lips on my-

“I… I appreciate that. I want this too, but I’ve never done anything like this before.” You say, still a bit out of breath.

Natasha’s expression softens. “That’s okay. We’ll go at your pace. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you just need to tell us. No judgment, no pressure.”

Wanda adds, “And if you have any questions or if there’s something specific you’d like to try, just let us know. This is a journey we’re all taking together.”

You nod, feeling more at ease with their reassurances.

As the three of you settle deeper into the couch, Wanda senses that you´re still very nervous.

“To help you feel more comfortable,” Wanda begins, her voice soothing, “let’s start by sharing some of our own limits. It’s important that you know we have them too.”

Natasha nods in agreement, giving Wanda a reassuring smile. Wanda continues, “For example, I’m not comfortable with any kind of intense pain or anything that feels degrading. And I’m also particular about aftercare. It's crucial to me that we take time afterward to reconnect and make sure everyone feels safe and cared for.”

"I´m not comfortable with anything involving blindfolds. I prefer to see everything that’s happening and to maintain that visual connection.” Natasha looks from Wanda to you

Their openness makes you feel more secure, and you start to find your voice. “I… I think I´m okay with exploring a lot of things, but I´m not comfortable with anything that involves sharp things, or uh… blood and these stuff.”

Wanda squeezes your hand gently. “That’s perfectly fine. Thank you for sharing that with us.”

Natasha adds, “We also need a way to communicate if something feels too much or if you want to stop immediately. Do you know about safe words?”

You nod slightly, recalling the concept from things you’ve read before. “Yes, I’ve heard about them.”

“Good,” Natasha says, smiling. “We usually use a traffic light system. ‘Red’ means stop immediately, ‘yellow’ means slow down or I’m close to my limit, and ‘green’ means everything’s good. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, that works,” you reply, feeling more confident.

Wanda leans in a bit closer, her eyes warm and reassuring. “Remember, we’re here to explore this together. There’s no rush, and we’ll take it as slow as you need.”

With the boundaries set and the safe word established, the atmosphere in the room shifts to one of mutual understanding and anticipation. Natasha and Wanda move closer to you again, their touches soft and inviting.

"Then I think we can continue this, what do you say?" Wanda softly asks.

You simple just nod your head.

"One more thing," Natasha says, "we always want to hear you, especially when we ask a question."

You nod again, but now they can also hear your voice, "I agree, yes."

Natasha smiles and Wanda’s lips find yours right away, but this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate. Natasha’s hand caresses your arm, her touch gentle and comforting.

Wanda´s lips trail from your shoulder to your neck, each kiss sending a wave of warmth through you. While her hands rest on your waist, drawing you even closer.

Wanda whispers softly against your lips, “How does this feel?”

Your breath hitches slightly, a mix of excitement and nervousness. “It feels… amazing.”

Natasha’s voice is a soft murmur in your ear, “Remember, if you need us to stop, just say red."

You nod, "this is very green." Both of the ladies share a chuckle at your words.

Natasha moves and whispers in your ear, “good to know that, darling.”

Wanda giggles a little, gently nipping at your neck, before planting soft kisses. She whispers softly, “she´s so sweet.”

You move your head so Wanda has better acces to your neck. She notices it and giggles at your eagerness, taking the opportunity as she begins leaving wet kisses all along your neck. “So needy…” she says between kisses.

Natasha moves away slightly, enjoying the view infront of her, her hand put Wanda´s hair on her other shoulder so it´s not in the way. She leans closer to her ear and whispers, "you are too, detka."

This is too much for you, your mind is shutting down, but also running bilion miles per second. How is it possible? No one knows.

Your heart is beating so fast, you can heat your heartbeat and you´re sure both of the ladies can hear it too. As you let out a pornographic moan, Wanda and Natasha share a knowing smirk, but you´re so deep in pleasure, that you don´t notice that at all. Subconsciously you shift, openning your legs more, which both of them also notice.

“Someone’s eager..” Natasha grins, placing a hand on Wanda´s back, then pushing her more into you.

"Please-" you let out a shaky whine.

“Please what, darling?” Wanda asks, which leads Natasha to chuckle, since it is something she often asks Wanda in their solo time. Wanda´s hand moves up to your thigh, stopping before it reaches your core.

Even if you tried your hardest, you wouldn't get a sound out of yourself. And right now you´re trying your hardest.

Natasha smirks, whispering into your ear, “use your words, (Y/N).”

Your voice cracks, you´re figting as much as you can. "I need you to touch me, please… touch me." You are so needy.

"We are touching you," Nat´s fingers start to trace up and down your arms, she slowly puts them above your head.

"More… I need more." You look up at the redhead.

"Then ask like a good girl," Wanda´s words makes Natasha roll her eyes, another line she learned from her.

You shyly look at Wanda, "please, can you touch me?"

"Where exactly you want Wanda to touch you, darling?" The redhead is whispering in your ear, her words making you shiver.

"Go on, say it." Wanda is hungry, her eyes full of lust.

"C-" your words are stuck in your throat, "my… clit, please."

"Aww," Natasha cooes, "so polite."

Wanda smiles, her hands work fast to unbutton your pants, another second goes by and they are on the ground.

"Natty look at those panties, so adorable," Wanda´s thumb trace up and down your throbbing core.

Shit. That is emberassing. Oh fuck her fingers feel soo good!

"Oh look at that," Natasha smirks as she notices your kitten panties. "A kitten has kittens on her panties, that is adorable, indeed." Her fingers tickle your arms, "and she´s so responsive, what a jackpot!"

Wanda put your panties to the side, "she is more than responsive, Nat."

Natasha´s curiosity increased, "leave your hands above your head." She orders you, and then moves to see what is Wanda talking about.

"We didn´t even touch her that much, she is dripping," Wanda basically drools at the sight of you.

"You think she would cum only by our words?" Natasha eyes are now dark, her green color is switched with pure black. She is the panther and you´re her pray. There is something in you switching, when they talk about you, like you´re not even in the room with them.

"We can try that next time, but now I want her-" before Wanda can dive into your absolutely drenched lady parts, Natasha stops her.

"And what makes you think you can be the first, hm?" Her words makes you look at both of them, still keeping your hands above your head.

Oh. So Nat is defiently the boss in the bedroom. Noted.

Wanda blushes, "well…"

"Cute," the redhead holds Wanda´s hair, "go on, but slow."

Fuck.

Wanda leans in, you can feel her breath on your wet skin. As she playfully kisses your clit you moan. Oh this is going to be hell for both of you. The only person who is having so much fun is Natasha. Her grin in from ear to ear.

"Oh god-" you fight the urge to bring your hands from above your head into Wanda´s hair.

Natasha smiles at your inner fight, "good girl, keep them there."

Her words make you hold it, be a good girl. But lord it is hard.

Wanda´s tongue starts to explore your most sensitive body part, making the both of you feel so much pleasure.

"Slow, detka." Natasha´s nails digs into Wanda´s sides, "or do you want to just watch?"

"No, no!" She shakes her head.

"Then go slow." Natasha´s words are firm, making your body shiver and making your pussy clench.

Wanda smiles at the feeling of you being so responsive, so she nibbles at your clit, making your head falls back.

"Oh girls, you´re both so pretty." Nat smiles as she plays with Wanda´s hair, "you can go faster Wanda and use your fingers on her. Her whole body is begging for it."

She doesn´t need to be told twice, her finger is immedietly push inside of you, making you move your hips. "Oh my fucking god-" you moan out loud.

"Tell Wanda how does it feel, (Y/N)."

"It´s-" your hips are jerking up and down, usualy Natasha would pin you down, or stop you completly, but this is just a beautiful sight. A pretty desparate girl, doing anything she can for a little more friction.

"Words, (Y/N)." Natasha warns.

"It´s amazing," you let out, "it feels amazing… so amazing." You say as you feel so close to an orgasm. It is emberassing to you, that after few minutes you are this close.

Wanda smiles at your words, her fingers speed up her movements and she knows by your body reaction, that there will be most probably really loud ending.

"Is someone close?" Natasha asks, her eyes full of hunger.

"She is," Wanda mumble into your pussy.

"I am!"

Natasha chuckles at your adorable confession, "cum whenever you want, (Y/N). Go ahead-"

And you´re cumming. Hard. You never felt like this before and you´re addicted right away. You need this everyday!

All of your muscles are clenched, your breathing is heavy, eyes are shut. Wanda´s finger slow down, you don´t even realized she pulled it out already.

Natasha smiles, praising you how pretty you look and what amazing job you both did, her fingers are running thought Wanda´s hair, while she softly kisses your trembling thighs.

I have to be dreaming. Definetly.

Wanda smiles at you, immedietly laying next to you, while Natasha walks to the kitchen for some water.

"Oh wow," you finally mumble, which makes Wanda look at you.

"Oh wow? That´s it?" She chuckles.

You nod, shifting in her arms, "Not a single dream came even close to the reality."

"So you dreamt about this, hm?" Her teasing makes you blush.

"I- well… obviously." You smile shyly, you can feel her fingers tracing some patterns on your arm.

"We´re glad that we exceed your expectations."

You could get used to this, to them. It feels like they created a haven where you are free to explore and express every part of yourself. The world outside fades away, leaving only the cocoon of their warmth and the promise of mutual discovery. Their touch, their words, their very presence, all blend into a symphony of security and affection, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace that you never want to end.

In their arms, you are not just safe—you are cherished, valued, and profoundly seen.

Shit.

Is this how 'just sex' should feel? Yeah, it is. It´s just… nice to be held sometimes. This warm feeling is normal.

Natasha walks back from the kitchen, gives you a water and then smiles, "how about we take a shower, hm?"

"That is wonderful idea, need any help walking?" Wanda teases you again.

"Ha ha ha, very funny, I can walk on my own," As Wanda pulls away, you already miss her touch, miss her fingers tracing up and down your arm.

You stand up, realizing right away that you can´t really walk on your own.

Oh wow, that´s… different.

You never experienced sex this amazing, now you get everyone who talks about being obssesed with sex. You could get addicted to this. To Wanda and Nat.

"Okay, let me help you, miss 'I can walk on my own', give me your hand." You listen to Wanda and both of you walk into the bathroom, where Natasha is already preparing a nice warm water.

For some reason you feel more shy, than before. You´re standing between them in just oversized shirt now and you can´t bring yourself to take it off. Your cheeks feel like they are on fire.

"Do you need help with showering too or…?" Natasha´s asks, but you accidentaly cut her off due to your nervousness.

"No, I´m okay."

I´m an idiot. Why did I- oh my god!

Nat smiles and nods, while putting some fresh clothes out for you, she probably found in the closet, both of them leave the bathroom for you to take a warm shower, which leads you to overthink everything… like you always do.

Why did I said that? Good job, (Y/N), you could have a shower with the most beautiful ladies, but nooo 'you´re okay.' God dammit.

The steam from the hot shower still clings to your skin as you step out, wrapping a plush towel around your body. The water droplets trail down your shoulders, for a few seconds you stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

After you change, you make your way into the living room, you feel a flutter of anxiety, unsure if you didn´t upset them somehow. But the sight that greets you eases the tension in your chest.

Wanda is in the kitchen as she prepares a plate of snacks. The smell of something delicious wafts through the air. Her back is turned to you, but there's a gentle hum of contentment in the way she works.

Natasha is lounging on the couch, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips as she looks up and meets your eyes. She pats the spot next to her, an invitation that is both welcoming and non-demanding.

"You okay?" Natasha asks, her voice a low, soothing murmur that wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

You nod, moving to sit next to her. "Yeah, just… a bit nervous, I think."

Natasha nods, "It's alright. New things are scary."

Wanda turns around, a plate of snacks in her hand, and offers you a warm smile. "I thought you might need something to eat, to get your energy back," she says, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of you.

You can’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture, your nerves slowly dissipating. "Thank you, Wanda."

She sits on your other side, close but not intruding on your space. "We want you to be comfortable. If that means taking things slow, then that's what we'll do."

Natasha adds, "we´re not gonna play with you and then throw you away."

The tension in your shoulders eases, replaced by a growing sense of comfort. You pick up a piece of fruit from the plate. You didn´t even know you had a bunch of apples in your apartment to be honest.

"I do feel comfy," you admit softly, looking from Natasha to Wanda. "Thank you for your patience."

Wanda places a gentle hand on your knee, her touch light and reassuring. "You´re very welcome."

As you sit between them, the initial nervousness fades, replaced by a comfortable silence. Together, you share this quiet moment, not really knowing what will this journey brings. But right now, you like every single bit of it. The three of you share stories and laughter, the initial nervousness having melted away entirely. But eventually, Wanda glances at the clock, a hint of regret in her eyes.

“It’s getting late,” she says gently, her eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “We have a work meeting scheduled early tomorrow.”

You nod, feeling a bit sad. “Thank you for today. It was… really nice.”

Natasha stands, stretching slightly before looking down at you with a warm gaze. “How about we visit you tomorrow at work?"

You blink in surprise, a question forming on your lips. “How do you know where I work? Wait… how did you even find my address?”

Natasha smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “We have our ways. Let´s say that we just like to be prepared."

Wanda nods, her expression serious yet filled with affection. “We wanted to show you how serious we are about this. About you.”

Before you can respond, Wanda leans in and places a tender kiss on your cheek. “See you tomorrow," she whispers.

With that, they make their way to the door. Natasha gives you one last lingering look, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “If you need anything, we’re just a call away.”

You watch them leave, the door closing softly behind them. The apartment feels a little emptier without their presence, but the warmth of their care lingers in the air.

How do they even know I´m working tomorrow?

You hum as you eat one more apple slice from the plate Wanda prepared.

"They are the CEO of two big ass brands, of course they know what I will do tomorrow." You nod as you talk to yourself.

You can´t wait for tomorrow, hoping they will make your day at work better. You already know they will, but you can´t forget… it´s just sex.

Thank you for reading! can´t wait to share the next part with you:)

taglist: @arualdcg, @beholdagaywriter, @snowdrop1026, @itsdoni, @newawakening9, @aliherreraaa, @zzswiftyzz, @lesbiantothemoonandback, @maggieromanov,

#adele writes #third time is a charm right?#marvel fanfiction #marvel universe #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wandanat x reder #wandanat x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff x you

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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 months ago

Text

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own.

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again.

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop.

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.”

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!”

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants.

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip.

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.”

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?”

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.”

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself.

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.”

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name.

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder.

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”

“Oh.”

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you.

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything.

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!”

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . .

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you.

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.

And then. . . he smirks.

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist.

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him.

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch.

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.

Yours.

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid.

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say.

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop, his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“But i’m fine—”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you.

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?”

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you.

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry.

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no.

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing.

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you.

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval.

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound.

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath.

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!”

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you.

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!”

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs.

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!”

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit.

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now.

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”

#gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls smut #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #stanford pines #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #grunkle ford #ford pines x oc

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lsargeantsgirl · 3 months ago

Text

Reserve

pairing: max verstappen x f2 driver reader

word count: 1.3k

Summary: Max meets a woman at the 2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony, but don't exchange numbers. Months later they meet again and sparks fly more than ever.

Warning: Max’s personality is not accurate.

MANY INACCURACIES (take place in Baku, but the place is the Met) also didn't know what to title this

----

2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony

Y/n ascends the staircase with the wind in her dress and her hair blowing in the wind. She felt better than she ever had. Even though her boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, broke up with her a week ago. He had said some things that had made her feel worthless. Now she felt on top of the world. She had won the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year. It had been a crazy tear for you.

“Y/N,” was all you were surrounded by. Many reporters and fans were yelling for your attention. At the top of the stairs, you stopped and looked over your shoulder as a pose. A man near the middle of the stairs caught your eye. He was sharply dressed in a nice suit.

After enough time to get the shot, you continued through the doors. Your team principal met you halfway to the team’s table.

“Y/N, you look great. I got an email today from the Team Principal of the Red Bull F1 team, Christian Horner. He wants to talk to you.”

“When does he want to meet?”

“He wants you to meet him after the awards.”

“Ok, you’ll know where I’ll be”

He walked away as you made your way to the bar, getting your favorite drink. A man finds his place next to you.

“Hey, how are you?” he said with an accent.

“Good, you?”

“Great, now since I met such a beautiful woman,” he flirted.

“Aww, what level are you in?”

“F1.”

“Ooh, fancy pants here,” you said while smiling. “Guess I’m too poor for you.”

“But you’re not ‘poor’ on the beauty scale.” He smiles, and you meet his crystal-blue eyes.

“Thanks, if looks could lap, you’d be a world champion,” you joke to him, hitting his arm with a dopey smile.

“Jokes on you, actually, I am,” he says with all seriousness.

The smile on your face dropped. “What?!”

“The champion of your heart,” he smiles detecting your stand-offness to his previous comment. “So can I have your number?”

“If you buy the next round.”

“Bartender, can you put all of her drinks on my tab tonight,” he says as the bartender nods.

“Well, thank you, but for that, I can repay you by giving you my number,” you said as you trailed your finger on his shoulder.

“What if I don’t want it?” he says ‘sarcastically’ but you don’t catch on.

The face you made you kill someone. Your face dropped farther than it ever had. You might even have to get Botox for the frown lines after that. You set your drink on the bar and back away.

“Thank you for the drinks, have a great night,” you said before turning on your heel and walking away.

“Wait,” you hear him slightly yell but you ignore it. Max starts to hate himself for being sarcastic. It was hard for him to make friends or talk to girls. His abusive past makes him overthink things so much so that he blocks the best of people out.

You strut to your team’s table. As the ceremony commences, your eyes meet the Caribbean blue eyes. You fight the urge to smile at him, instead you force your deepest frown and even add a roll of the eye.

Your award was announced. You walk up the stairs with a huge smile. As you look out at the audience, you feel a sense of accomplishment. You seem calm and collected but inside you are so nervous.

“Thank you to everyone, my team, my engineers, my strategists, my family, my friends. All that you have done for me has brought me to this very moment. No words can express how thankful I am for everything. All the blood, sweat, and tears I have put into this sport have finally paid off. If I cried on your shoulder, an extra thank you to you. Thank you,” you finished.

The rest of the night went by in a blur until your team principal came to you with three men following him.

“Y/n, this is Christian Horner, team principal of the Red Bull F1 Team.”

“Mr. Horner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Miss (your last name), likewise, congratulations on your F2 Rookie of the Year.”

“Thank you,” you politely replied.

“I would like you to meet my drivers: World Champion, Max Verstappen and his teammate, Sergio Perez.”

You looked at the man he called Max and looked him up and down and said, “Champion of your heart, my ass.”

“Y/n, a word please,” your team principal grasped the upper portion of your arm. “What the hell, they’re offering their reserve driver to you. Don’t act normal please.”

You walked back to the group of Red Bulls. “My apologies, Mr. Perez, a pleasure to meet you,” you apologized completely ignoring Max.

“Y/n, after careful consideration, Red Bull would like to offer you the position of our reserve driver. You can take as much time as you need to decide,” Christian said.

“Thank you, sir. I will think about it.”

Christian and his boys walked away after giving their farewells.

—-- A couple of months later—

Bahrain Grand Prix

“Here we are in Bahrain, preparing for the first race of the 2024 Formula One championship quest, the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. It is a sunny day of 20 degrees Celsius or 69 degrees Fahrenheit. There are no new drivers to the starting grid but there are changes to the reserve drivers mainly, the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year, (your name). She had amazing testing results here last week. One of our reporters is with her now.” the Sky Sports host said.

“Y/N, welcome to your first grand prix as a reserve driver. Are there any feelings of accomplishment yet?” she asked.

You laughed, “Not really, I am so happy to have this opportunity. Thank you to Christian and the Red Bull team for trusting me. It really won’t settle in until I’m in one of the cars during a race but yes I am so happy and excited to be here.”

“As someone new to F1, how is having Max Verstappen as a teammate?”

“I mean, he’s different than my previous mates. We have our downs but nothing that makes me lose sleep, I don't know about him though.”

“Well, thank you for your time, I hope you enjoy this grand prix.”

Sometime later after Max won the race, he found you at the back of the garage and cornered you.

“Do you think I lost sleep over that night in Baku?” he said with a low volume.

“You were the one who came running after me so maybe.”

“You would be right, every day I think about what compelled me to say that and I still don’t know what did?”

“I know what did. You were attracted to me so your first instinct was to pull me in but when I got too close you pushed me away, that’s not your fault.”

“My dad made me work so hard, so when you came in so easily I thought it was too good to be true,” he said.

“I feel the same,” you whisper.

“You do?” he whispered back.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,”

His lips met your softly. You were hidden in the back of the garage so no one could see this intimate moment.

After you separated your lips, he asked, “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, you know where to pick me up,” you say slipping out from between him and the wall to go back to the front of the garage, anxiously waiting for the night to come.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #sergio checo pérez #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #bahrain gp 2024 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #f1

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weneeya · 11 months ago

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Hear me outttttttttt

the Gojo scene with Hanami.. but imagine him being that unhinged and pissed because someone touched you.. like 🥴 Please bless us with your work with this!! I’m begging

overprotective m.list | rules

pairing. gojo x reader

note. ur brain 🤝 my brain I've literally thought about this a thousand times omg thank u for requesting this

You were supposed to be alone on this mission. Everyone had faith in you and they were right to think that way: you were a strong sorcerer. But Satoru had a bad feeling about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in you, in fact he was probably the one who believed in you the most ; but something was off and he couldn’t find what.

He couldn’t just follow you there, because he knew it would hurt you. You were an overthinker and he didn’t want to put this weight on your mind. So he simply waited for you to come back to Jujutsu Tech, still worried that something could go wrong.

The first thing that got him out of his mind was his phone ringing. When he saw your name, his heart skipped a beat. It was unusual from you to call him in the middle of a mission, especially as hard as this one. He didn’t hesitate before he picked up the phone. When he heard your trembling voice asking for help, the world stopped around him. Nothing else mattered or even existed right now, except you.

He had never been this fast in his entire life before. He knew where you were for the mission, so he didn’t have to ask anyone else to come with him. He didn’t need anyone actually, because he was going to destroy the thing that touched you all by himself.

When he finally arrived where you were, he really thought about going crazy. You were almost on the floor, as way too much blood was leaving your body. You were so pale, he could tell that you were just about to pass out. He reached your height in a second, carrying you to put you on the floor behind him, where you would be safe. He left a kiss on your forehead, sounding way too calm for it to be normal.

“It’s okay, my love. Stay awake, it’s gonna be quick.” he sounded so soft to your ears, as you closed your eyes and finally breathed again. Everything was going to be fine now that he was here, you knew it.

When Satoru stood up again, facing the creature that did that to you, a smile appeared on his lips. The last time he felt this angry, he was completely out of control. The only thing that was able to calm him down was when he was sure that his opponent had suffered twice more than what he had done. And this one, it hurted you ; so it needed to suffer even more. His piercing blue eyes were looking at the curse who soon rushed on the exorcist.

Or at least it tried to. The curse was quickly stopped in his movement, not able to move at all. As it started to panic, trying to fight back, Satoru kind of appeared in front of it. His psycho smile was even more terrifying than before as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Now, we can play,” was the last thing you heard before losing consciousness. The sight of Satoru being feral like this worried you a little, because you knew the man was unstoppable when he was like this. But at the same time, you knew that the mission was going to be handled just right. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

OMG FERAL GOJO he's really driving me crazy I don't even have the words anymore with this man

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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shapard · 11 months ago

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Feather of Fate 🕊️

Lucifer x fem!seraphim!reader

Soulmate arc

Lilith being weird

Saturn

Chapter 6 < Chapter 7 > Chapter 8

You’ve never felt this out of place before.

Even in heaven it wasn't this awkward.

You were sitting beside Lucifer who hasn’t talked since you’ve arrived here in the main lobby.

Lilith was sitting in front of you all like she hasn’t been missing for 7 years.

Walking around as if she owns this place. And it angered you.

Charlie was happy to see her mom again after such a long time, but also was hella confused.

Why is she here all of the sudden right before the extermination day? Charlie wasn't the only one who thought of this.

You too are confused at this ordinary timing.

Angel dust was concerned about you.

You and Lucifer were now official but the appearance of Lucifers ex-wife was very overwhelming for you, and Angel could see it.

And one guy was not even presence, and that was Alastor.

Weird.

Normally he’s always there when someone new arrived in here.

“Who are you?” Nifty broke the silence, and all eyes were now on her.

Lilith choose to Ignore Nifty, and she pouted. “So, you’re… His new girl?” Lilith asked looking you up and down. With her gaze lingering now on her you felt insecure somehow.

You hugged yourself to look smaller.

You nodded your head 'yes', even though you didn’t like the tone Lilith gave you.

“She’s his girlfriend and she has a name big tits.” Angel said raising his eyebrows.

He didn’t trust her.

Not at all.

Lilith smirked and leaned back in her seat.

“I don't care. Really her Lu?” Lilith looked over at Lucifer and he looked shortly back.

his gaze went quickly to the ground.

It was obvious that Lilith still had Lucifer in her fingers, and it pissed you off.

“Excuse me?” You decided to interrupt her cruel speaking.

She looked at you in surprise, and you huff in annoyance.

“You really think you can just come over here and talk here as if this place belongs to you.

Sorry for breaking the news to you, but you’re no longer the owner of this house, nor do you have the right to come here to Insult your ex.

You left him and I’m here. No refunds.” You Shaked your head, Angel dust smirked at you come back.

He’s so proud of you.

Lucifer smiled, every day he gets more reasons to love you.

“What are you even doing here?” Lucifer finally looked at Lilith and he felt nothing.

No Love, no sadness.

Lilith bit her lip hard, drawing blood. “Can’t I visit my little daughter.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrow, “You never visit nor called her in over 7 years. What changed!” No one gets after his daughter, not even her Mother.

Not even Lilith.

Lilith patient was running thin, she scratched with her nail into the wood piece from the couch breaking her nails in the process.

She took a breath in and out. “I had a lot of important things to do.”

Now y’all were raising a brow at this statement, besides Charlie.

She had faith for the first time that her mother wants to see her again.

But you all had a valid point, why now?

“It seems no one wants me here. I’ll leave, but I will come back.”

She looked now at Lucifer smiling at his angered face. ‘you’ll see’ She mouthed at him, he pointed towards the door.

And she left.

“That was way too easy.” Husk said that what all thought. She left you all dumbfounded.

It was way too easy.

Angel shifted towards you and Lucifer. “So, you two a thing now?” You nod your head and smile brightly.

He wanted to change the topic so you don't overthink all of this, and it worked successfully.

Charlie bounced up and down dismissing the weird visit from her mother. She's so excited for the two of you.

Charlie is a cutie pie, and you love everything about her. She is just like her father, the pros so the cons. Both just want to do their best for their beloved.

Even though they sometimes fuck up, it is always meant in a good way.

“You said It yourself seconds ago. Why are you even asking?” Lucifer asked and rested his chin on your shoulder.

He loves that he's shorter than you. Every time you two hugged he was always between your boobs. Even though he wears a hat to look taller.

Angel just shrugged and continued to drink his Malibu with his well known smile.

… Time Skip...

Lucifer paced around your room, and you watched his every move.

You stood up and hugged his waist looking down into his eyes. Sometimes he was looking at you, but they travelled through the whole room most of the time.

“Luci, calm down. Nothing happened we are fine.” His strand fell in front of his eyes, and you put it back to its place, Lucifer clicked his tongue.

“That’s what’s worrying me. Why didn’t she do anything? I know Lilith since the start of earth, she wouldn’t just leave in those situations without a reason.”

Lucifer leaned into you embrace letting out a distressed sigh.

"Don't worry about it. You're one of the strongest beings, she wouldn't dare to put out a fight like Michael did." Lucifers sighs, you're probably right.

_____

“You just left?!” Michael laughed biting at his fresh manicured nail.

His women staff around him tensed up, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Michael sent them away. They ran as fast as they could out of the room.

“And you didn’t even spy on them? Tried anything to get useful Information?! I really wonder why you divorced him and not the other way around.” He breathed in and threw a glass cup next to Lilith.

“But you just LEFT?!”

He shook his head, his eyes shining in pure blue.

“They’re soulmates.” She whispered. Not looking at him with his icy cold eyes.

She hated that look in his eyes he was giving her.

He looked at her like she is a piece of garbage, something he should've got disposed of.

Something that now molds in one of his cabinets.

the only reason why she is still alive was her use for him.

And something else they both tried to hide and undo.

Michael’s mark burned in protest but it won’t stop him to punish Lilith.

“NO SHIT!” he leaned his hand in his palm trying to calm down. massaging his forehead hardy leaving a red fingerprint.

“Your plan failed Michael. It worked for a couple of Months but not longer. It seemed their bond grew stronger.” A loud bang echoed the icy cold halls in Michael’s mansion.

The temperature was starting to get colder and colder.

Ice started to grow around Lilith holding her tight in place. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.”

He stood in front of Lilith cutting her cheek open with the same knife your blood was spilled.

“I- I- have an idea!” Michael removed the knife from her cheek with ease.

Lilith feared him you thought?

Feared was the wrong word.

She’s haunted by him.

Every time she thinks she’s in peace, he reminds her that he has her in her personal hell.

The sharing Soulmate mark was burning on her skin bonding then for eternity.

“Tell me.” Michael licked Lilith’s blood away from her cheek and she shrieked trying to get away from him. But his ice didn’t let her move.

“We can use her,”

Michael grabbed her chin turning Lilith head to him, “I already tried that Bitch.”

Lilith looked at Michael and shrugged her eyes at him, “But my idea is better.”

Michael eyes twitched in annoyance, how dare she?

“On extermination day, we can take her away from him.”

______

You knocked onto Charlie’s door hesitant.

You were worried about her.

You know how it is with mommy Issues and when they try to gain something out of you. Out of your weakness and dreams.

No one can destroy you like a mother can. No one can build you up like a loving mother. And no one can cause destruction like a mother.

You speak out of experience with your mother Sera.

Even though you’ve almost spoken no words with Lilith, she seems kind of like an asshole.

It was all Lilith's fault which caused Charlie and Lucifer being so distant to each other.

Saying always Lucifer was too busy to see his own daughter, which isn’t even true.

And telling Lucifer that Charlie doesn't want to see her own father.

You didn’t like Lilith at all.

Charlie opened the door and was shocked to see you there.

“Y/n?” You briefly smiled to her, “Can I get in?” She tilted her head and gave you a concerned look. “Did something happen with dad?”

You shook your head laughing a bit, “I just want to know if everything’s alright with you? Just a quick check.” Charlie nods her head, not looking you in the eye.

“I can see when someone’s lying my dear.” Charlie looks up to you, “pfft- No. I am completely fine! really!” She laughed you off, pushing you out of her and Vaggies room.

“If you say so.” You said, not really believing her. Charlie puts her thumbs up and closed the door right in front of you.

So that’s how Lucifer felt.

Not a nice feeling.

You can understand Charlie, you’re new. New to this Family, new to her.

So, you understand when she doesn’t want to share her feelings with you. but it was worth a shot.

You didn't spend much time with Charlie nor her friends.

You talked sometimes with Angel or with Husk. They seemed nice.

You had once a conversation with Alastor and Lucifer wasn’t really a fan of it.

Lucifer creeped behind you and gave Alastor a rude comment.

He growled at Alastor and pushed you away from him.

Since then, you always keep yourself distant from Alastor.

You walked towards the bar seeing Angel and Husk drinking some cocktails and shots.

You sat beside Angel, telling husk to make you a good drink.

“Never seen you drink alcohol before. Tough day?” Husk asked grabbing some bottles from the shelves. “Nah, just want to try something new.”

Angel looked you up and down smiling. “You look different.” His fingers drew circles on the bar table, biting his lips in a sexual matter.

“Did you and the short king finally get into some action?” He pushed his chest fur up and fluffed it a bit.

And here we go.

Of course, Angel will notice.

Your cheeks redden, feeling the sudden embarrassed.

“What? No- where did you get that idea from?!” You started playing with the glass that husk laid in front of you moments ago.

Angel frowned, “I do sex for a living toots. But except that, everyone can see it even if you’re blind like a fish.” Angel rests his head on one of his many hands and raised his eyebrows at you.

“You’re not a good liar kiddo.” Husk said and Angel snorted, “Ya see! Even Mr. grump cat can see it.”

Angel smirked at Husk and continued to tease him. They both stopped giving each other shots when they heard your joyful laugh.

“What?” They both asked in sync.

“You two are like an old married couple.” You continued to laugh out loud.

Meanwhile Husk and Angel were a blushing mess blabbering “No’s” and dismissive comments about how they act.

“Married couple? No, nah. We two? Never, haha!” Angel blabbered and husk agreed by him. And this went on and on for the rest of day.

Angel, Husk, and you got way closer.

This was a great day so far.

But there was an unsettling feeling building up in your guts, telling you to run.

And you couldn’t figure out why.

Walking back to your room you saw Alastor on your way back.

‘Please not him’.

“Look who we have here!” His smile was unsettling, you wanted to leave before he could try anything to you.

You were all alone and he could use this advantage. But he wouldn't right?

“Oh, hey there Alastor. Sorry we can’t chat any longer, I have stuff to do.” You waved him a goodbye and rushed away from him.

Please let it work.

“What stuff?”

Alastor teleported himself in front of you scaring the shit out of you.

You screamed and fell right onto your butt.

A stinging pain was growing in that area.

“Ow! Wtf Alastor!” You looked up at his well-known wide smile and all he did was smirking even wider.

“You know little Angel; you seem to get comfortable in here. I’m glad you like this beautiful hotel! Do you-“

“Darling! Y/n?!” Lucifer called out for you. Interrupting Alastors chat with you, his ears quickly shifted to the well-known voice which was calling for you.

Lucifer heard your little scream, and he quickly followed the red string feeling that connected the two of you.

Alastor hummed and disappeared into his own shadows.

Lucifers eyes shifted around the hallway cursing that this place is too large to find you.

Finally he found you lying on your butt unmoving on the floor.

“Are you okay? What happened.” He helped you up to your feet searching for any damage before looking up to you.

“Yeah, I guess. Just a weird encounter. Don’t worry about it.” Lucifer sighs but didn’t pry any further.

He trusts you that you’ll tell him when something is wrong.

When you both were lying in your bed, and he was cuddled all up in your lap.

All you couldn’t help but think about this unease that thrilled behind your head and in your guts.

It was making you sick, as if you got a rare disease.

You played with his angelic golden hair, hoping it will calm that feeling down, to no success.

It didn't help.

You decided to speak up about this, with Lucifer. Maybe this would help.

“Luci?” He hummed, “I have a bad feeling about this.” He sat up, scared that you mean the relationship you two formed.

Fuck I phrased that wrong. You internally screamed at yourself.

“About what?”

please, please be something else, please. I thought everything is perfect. Lucifer begged in his head.

You looked onto your shelf where the duck he gifted you was resting. A replica from himself just in a duck form.

It glowing in all their might. You loved this duck; it just was so adorable and remind you of Lucifer so much.

“I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe it is the extermination.” You scratched the back of your head.

Lucifer sighs in relief. Thank God it's just that.

“Don’t worry your head about it Apple pie. Nothing will happen to you.”

Oh, how he will regret saying that.

A/n: What do you think will Lilith and Michael do with Y/n?

Annnd one final Question:

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@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows

A/n (again):Thank you for all the lovely comments, likes and repost<3 And FOR THE 300 FOLLOWERS DAYUM. We got new pookies❤️

btw I'm sick so if this chapter (or the next) comes later than normal I apologize.

#shapard #y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #michael hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #lilith hazbin hotel #feather of fate #fanfic

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