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januaryembrs · 6 months ago

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WAS I FOOLIN MYSELF | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [5]

Description: The THREE times you can't have him no matter how much you want to

Length. 15.2k

warnings: angst, spencer's addiction mentioned, gory cm cases (medical trauma, removing limbs, human marionettes etc) explosion, broken arm and surgery, slight lemon at end but not actually written just described aftermath, Maeve arc (I'm so sorry), guns, almost dying, blood, general cm warnings, anything else let me know!

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Authors note; I will edit in the morning I just really wanted you all to have the next chapter as promised!!

'I'ma strike these matches, never had control,

I'm ready to let go, no, was I fooling myself?'

The one with the wedding

JJ’s ears were ringing, a high pitched whine like a radio skipping between stations searching for a signal, and she felt the hard concrete against her milky skin before the throbbing in her forehead hit.

“JJ, are you alright?” There were hands at her shoulders, patting her down for fractures, not wanting to move her if her spine had been hit, and it wasn’t until she rolled herself over, eyes frantic and in shock that she saw Morgan.

“Where’s Will? Where’s Bugsy?” She asked, the words blurring into one word. Her legs were struggling to a stand before she could think too much about the concussion she almost definitely had, giving Morgan a quick once over, “Did they get out of there?”

But she hadn’t seen any movement before the blast had shot them back ten feet to the floor. Had only seen the back of the youngest Prentiss woman’s head as she rushed into the building to get emergency medical care to her partner.

“Where’s Emily?” Morgan added, and the two of them realised they were missing perhaps three of the most important people to them with no sign of life from any of them.

It didn’t take much for JJ to take off bolting into where the bank’s entrance had crumbled to the floor, where the dust hadn’t even settled and they didn’t know whether there was a second set of bombs waiting for them. They didn’t know anything.

And it was for that reason JJ dipped straight into the wall of smoke, hand tight on her gun as she went to look for survivors.

Morgan and Hotch were hot on her heels, a dozen firefighters and medical in tow, a similar face of dread in their expressions.

Aaron’s heart was in his throat when they entered the building, the west facing wall almost entirely in smithereens on the floor. The dust choked him the second they ran in, and he coughed before he could even get a word out, hand flying over his mouth to try give himself some kind of filter to the air.

“Bugsy!” He yelled as loud as his dry vocal chords would allow, “Bugsy, give us a signal,”

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of JJ and Morgan screaming for Will and Emily just as loud. And even to that they received no answer.

It wasn’t until they got close enough to the rubble and began seeing the bodies did Aaron start to fear the worst. He called her name again, her real name, splitting up from the rest of his team because it was no longer a mission for the UnSubs, it was now a search and rescue.

He crouched to press his fingers against a woman’s throat, stomach flipping when he felt no pulse beneath them, before he moved onto another one, his eyes darting between the chunks of brick and ceiling to see if he could spot anything that looked like an FBI jacket.

It wasn’t until he found one of the men donned in a SWAT uniform, his gun long since dropped to the tiles that he knew he must be close. It was one of the guys who had gone into the buildings seconds before her.

He felt for a familiar thrum of a heartbeat, his breath thick in his throat when he managed to get a slow and steady thump, and he immediately began signalling for medical attention.

Paramedics came running over with a stretcher between them, but Aaron wasn’t finished, Not until he saw her.

He dodged around the large chunk of stone that piled in the centre of the room, cringing when he saw a splatter of blood on the tiles in front of him, and it was only when he saw a hand splayed out on the floor did his heart truly stop.

His cold eyes were wet with fear as he traced the hand up its arm, the familiar blue he wore himself ripped to shreds, the skin beneath it broken and the bone snapped clean in two. He could barely make out the three letters, F. B. I. that were so covered in blood and dirt it almost matched the navy, before he got the pillow of familiar hair matted against a head that faced away from him.

But it was her. There was no doubt about it.

He thinks he said her name, but it might just have been a sob, because he fell to his knees quickly, scrambling to get to her face to see if she would respond to him at all.

“Bugsy, I need you to wake up,” He ordered, though it sounded like a hiss of pain, his rough hands finding her young face, desperate for any movement behind her eyelids, “Come on, sweetheart, just tell me what day it is,”

Years of training on what to do in a crisis and the correct first aid to give to someone unresponsive flew out of his brain, leaving behind bits and pieces like getting her to talk to see whether she had severed anything in that big, amazing brain of hers that had so much promise.

He leaned his ear down next to her nose, looking down the front of her chest to check for any signs of breath.

This was too similar to what Foyet had done with Haley, like a horrid deja-vu he wouldn’t wish even on their worst UnSub. He had been too slow, too stubborn, too stupid to stop her from getting hurt. He didn’t know what her blood on his hands would feel like, didn’t know if he would ever sleep again knowing he had gotten her killed.

Aaron’s stomach flipped when he saw her ribs rising slowly beneath her vest, her breaths cold against his earlobe.

“Guess it’s my turn to come back from the dead, huh?” A croaking whisper came softly, and he flicked his head around so fast he thought he might have whiplash.

But her eyes were open, squinting and tired, and he cursed the fact he had only then noticed the cut on her forehead, red ichor pumping fast and restlessly down the side of her face.

He gave a breathless laugh, though it pained his own ringing ear to do so, stroking gently down her face with the same care he would put Jack to bed with.

“Gotcha,” She smiled up at him sheepishly, her brows furrowing when she seemed then to notice the tears rolling down the tip of his nose, “Aaron Hotchner crying over me, are pigs flying today?”

He chuckled wetly, and his eyes were the warmest brown she’d ever seen them when he looked down at her. He turned his attention away for a second to call over medical, his eyes landing on Emily who was also frantically scanning the wreckage for her sister and giving her a sign too.

“You gave us quite a scare there,” Aaron said softly, because judging by the bump on her head, and the way blood was pooling in her ears, he guessed her eardrums had been damaged in the blast. Emily was over to them in seconds, looking dishevelled herself, and she gasped into her hands when she saw her sister’s fragile form.

“Bugsy- oh my god your arm,”

The girl’s face dropped, eyes widening as she tried turning to see the damage but Aaron was faster, quickly blocking her view of the mangled mess of skin with hand over the side of her head.

“What’s wrong with my arm?” She asked, and he saw nothing but his son with a scraped knee in her eyes when she looked up at him vulnerably. Emily fell to her knees next to her, taking over from Aaron by stroking her sister’s cheek, because if her adrenaline rose too much, then the numbness of the shock would wear off and she would feel it all.

“I think it’s broken, but the paramedics are going to fix you right up, I promise,” Emily cooed, though she felt herself go a little white at the sight of her sister’s bones so mangled and in pieces.

Aaron looked up when he heard Morgan calling his name, spotting the paramedic team navigating their way back to where the three of them sat, and he waved his hand up to let them know where they were.

He bit his tongue, looking down at where Bugsy was clearly starting to wake up more to just how bad of a state she was in, and she watched him woefully be torn between helping the rest of his team or staying with her.

“You guys can go, I’m no use on the case anymore,” She said, despite the fact she was terrified of what might happen if they left her alone.

“Are you crazy, absolutely not-,” Emily was cut off when two EMT’s rounded the block of concrete and brick that had missed her by a few inches when it had fallen, a stretcher and med packs at their side.

“Good to see you’re responsive, Agent Prentiss,” One of the EMT’s commented, opening his case up to retrieve a neck brace and a splint for her arm before they could move her to the stretcher. Bugsy smiled up at them, though she knew it looked like a wince, taking one more look at her sister and then at Hotch, both of whom looked stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Go, I’m serious. Will needs you,” She said, feeling Emily squeeze her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her hairline, looking down at her in worry, “Go, Emily. Just bring me pudding when you get to the hospital- no Jello-”

She hissed when the paramedics slipped the brace over her shoulders, strapping her head into place to stop her doing any more damage to her spine.

Emily nodded, and her and Hotch took off round the corner to where Morgan was calling them, and Bugsy let the paramedics fuss over her some more, taking the pain killers without a second glance once she realised just how broken Emily had meant when she saw her arm.

It got hazy from there, until she felt the sun on her face and she felt a hand grab her good side. Her eyes were rolling with the fact she was fighting off sleep, or maybe she really had lost more blood than she thought. Either way she managed to flick her eyes open enough to meet hazel hues, distraught and worried, heard a familiar voice calling her name sadly, but she was too far gone by then. Her eyes shut despite her fighting them, and she was wheeled into the back of an ambulance by the friendly EMT’s, and the doors shut before her medicated brain could even recognise the voice as Spencer.

She was asleep before she could protest to it.

–

The air smelled like bleach- no, like floor cleaner had been drenched all around her, like she had been dropped into a janitor's closet and spilled every bottle over on her way in.

Her body felt stiff, and she frowned when she felt cramp in her fingertips, pain shooting up her wrist the second she tried to move them. Her eyes opened blearily, and she groaned in protest at the overhead white lights, burying her face into the scratchy sheet that covered her body. Only then did it click that she was in a hospital.

She moaned again when she tried moving her legs and her whole body protested, her bare legs rubbing against the paper like material in a way that made her cringe, and she felt only the hospital gown and underwear on her body.

“You’re awake,” The voice startled her, and she realised she hadn’t even heard the door open in her haze. Spencer stood in the doorway, three big bunches of flowers and two teddies in his arms, one of them holding a sign saying ‘You’re bear-y brave!’

What got her was the look of worry in his eyes when he took her in head to toe, his eyes lingering on the bright pink cast on her lower arm up past her elbow.

She grimaced, following his eyes to the horror, “Sexy,”

He rushed over to her bedside, all but throwing the flowers and cuddly toys on the space where her legs weren’t curled up under the sheets, pausing for a second to assess the situation.

“Spencer, you didn’t need to get me all of this,” Bugsy said, her cheeks warming when she saw her favourite flowers right at the end of the bed, blooming right in her direction, “Is everyone okay? Is Will okay?”

He nodded, but had yet to say anything, and he fiddled with his fingertips the way he did when he was struggling to get his point across properly. She reached out with her functioning hand to take them in hers, because she hated when he wouldn’t talk to her.

“Spencer, I’m fine, it’s just a broken arm, right?” The woman asked, trying to shuffle herself into a sitting position only to yelp when her side burst into pain. He rushed to put his arm behind her back, to get her to lay back down without putting too much pressure on her sternum, “What the fuck is that? I feel like I got hit by a baseball bat,”

“That’s what happens when you run blindly into a building without waiting for backup,” Spencer said, an undertone to his words she had never heard from him before, “Two cracked ribs; you’re lucky your lungs are still intact,”

Shit.

“Anything else?” She asked, a grim look on her face as his expression soured.

“Almost tore one of your eardrums, moderate concussion. They had to put pins in your arm to fix the fracture, it was transverse before you ask, lacerations to your legs from the glass, and some shrapnel they pulled out while you were in surgery.” Spencer listed, propping a pillow behind her head for her to rest against more comfortably though he still seemed annoyed, “No biggy,”

She paused for a second, watching him like a scolded child, her lips pulling down slightly, “Are you upset with me?”

He sighed, running a gentle hand over her leg that was covered by the thin sheet, and she felt the sting of cuts on her skin just like he’d said.

“I’m not annoyed, I could never be annoyed with you; you just-” He huffed, looking up at her sad eyes and feeling his resolve crumbling immediately, “You can’t just throw yourself in the way of danger, you have people who care about you, people who love you,”

She bristled for a second, looking into her lap and chewing the inside of her lip worriedly, “I just wanted to help Will, I just didn’t want JJ and Henry to lose him the way I thought I lost Emily,”

Spencer’s heart sank, and any telling off he was going to give her for worrying him left him in seconds, and he forgave her embarrassingly fast.

Taking her hand back in his gently and scooching a chair closer to the bed so he could sit with her, he looked up at her with the sweet, puppy eyes she had always loved on him.

“I know, I know you just wanted to help,” He hushed her, using his other hand to stroke her hair behind her ear, “Next time just… wait for your lucky charm, remember?”

She smiled brilliantly, and he almost could ignore the butterfly stitching on her forehead or the bright pink cast on her arm, or the fact her clothes had looked like a crime scene when they’d shoved them in a biohazard bag with how soaked in blood they were.

Her pretty tweed pants and white shirt she’d bought especially for his Dr Who convention to make him happy, wasted.

“Where’s all my clothes?” She asked, like she’d read his mind, but then again she had been known to do that.

He pouted, because he knew she’d hate the answer, “Emily said they had to cut it off to get you into the brace properly; they ran some scans first to make sure your spine was intact.”

“All of my clothes?” She baulked, and he knew she was upset before she could even say so he stroked his thumb over her hand for good measure, “But my lovely shirt- and the pants they were so cute, weren’t they?”

“They were so cute,” He agreed, even though he thought she looked good in everything.

“And- oh my god they got my bra too?” She asked, wide eyed and horrified like she hadn’t had a building dropped on her, like this was the worst part of her day. Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better than to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and he was sure Pen could take her shopping for new ones even if the thought of it made his cheeks flush red, “They got the best one, Spencer, that was my best one with the little bows and the lace at the back- fuck,”

She huffed, rubbing her temple in annoyance seemingly completely unaware of the situation she’d put him in, when JJ slowly entered the room, looking more tired and stressed than she had in months, but there was a little glow in her face that washed it all away.

“JJ, they cut off my favourite bra,” Bugsy huffed, holding an arm out for the woman who came to stand at the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, and JJ quickly leaned in to hug her close, Bugsy’s head pressing against her stomach, “It was the only one that fit perfectly, now look at me. Wasted.”

“I can get you another one on Monday after Will and I have stopped by the courthouse,” JJ said, her eyes alight with mischief like she had a secret, and Bugsy frowned, looking up at the woman.

“Why on Earth would Will be buying me- Wait,” The girl stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she took in JJ’s sheepish blush and girlish grin, “Courthouse? You’re getting married!”

JJ’s smile was beaming, and Bugsy yanked her with her one good arm into a side hug, just about as much as her ribcage would allow, and Spencer’s face lit up equally, though he was quick to usher Bugsy back into a resting position so as not to jostle her stitches.

Spencer drove her home that night after she got discharged, and he helped her get settled back into her own bed, her face still a little bitter at the fact her favourite underwear set was “totally mismatched now”; her words, not his. He put a documentary on for the two of them until it was time for some more of the painkillers the doctors had sent her packing with, and she fell asleep pretty quickly after that.

He watched her breaths rising and falling slowly, the sight of her on that stretcher being wheeled into the back of the ambulance flashing in his head like a horror motion picture. Her face had been soaked in blood, her neck in a brace that looked tight enough to crush her, her eyes were weary and dim from what he knew now was the sedative effects of the painkillers.

He’d almost brought up the fact he’d found a geneticist willing to take a look at his MRI scans to help his migraines; almost brought up that she had finally got back to him with results and a plan of vitamins and dietary changes he could make to help ease his flare ups.

Spencer almost mentioned it, but he fell asleep listening to Bugsy’s breaths, checking for irregularities, before he had the chance to.

–

Hot pink did not match ditsy blue whatsoever, she had quickly decided, but the bluebell, floral dress was the only thing she owned long enough to cover the scratches on her legs and arms, and hid the majority of the hideous cast that weighed down her arm.

Spencer had encouraged her not to come to JJ’s ‘engagement party’, had encouraged her to stay at home and sleep; promised her he would rustle up the best chicken soup she’d ever tasted if it meant she would stay on the couch and rest her marred body.

But then Rossi had said he just simply couldn’t let a nice occasion go to waste. A few phone calls later, a drop in the ocean of his wealth and within two days the yard to his stately manor had been turned into a ceremony, the whole arch, pews and altar style.

“You should worry so much, you look lovely,” Spencer softly chided her when he saw her yanking her sleeve further down her arm, trying to cover the hard shell that protected her radius while it healed. She did, despite the fact he had to help her do her eyeliner because she could only do it with her right hand, or that there was still a nasty cut on her forehead that was scabbing up.

She was still beautiful as ever to him. And it made Spencer’s chest sore.

It felt like something had cracked between them since that night she had been dropped to his, her pupils wide as dinner plates, her inhibitions lowered to zero, and had pecked his lips like it wouldn’t tear him up inside to have her so close to him knowing it was everything he had ever wanted.

He knew if she ever kissed him again he couldn’t keep it in anymore, couldn’t stay in this limbo they had found themselves in where all he could think about was how she smelled when she wore his clothes, a mix of his laundry and her skin together, something he’d found himself purely saturated in since she first lived with him after Emily’s funeral. He loved the way her eyes seemed soft and mellow when she looked at him, loved the way his stomach seemed warm and fuzzy when she held his hand, and he knew it wasn’t in the same way it normally was with other people, when he was worried about how many germs they were spreading to him or if they’d had all their shots or if he’d remembered to pack hand sanitizer. His stomach felt funny, and his skin felt sweaty, and his head got scrambled, and it was somehow good.

He would do anything for her, anything she ever wanted from him and it was hers.

He knew it way surpassed friendship. It felt like she was his girlfriend, which was absurd because he had never asked her to be. Or maybe it was just him trying to wish it into existence, because he knew he would never ask her. She was too good for him, too good for this world let alone a scrawny, know-it-all like him.

She simpered under his words, looking at him with tired eyes, though he could tell she still yearned to fluff up her hair or fix her dress because she felt like a polished turd right now.

“Thankyou,” She said quietly, immediately spotting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne passing by and reaching for a little flute, “Want one? Thank you,”

Spencer shook his head politely, quickly spotting Emily and Morgan moving into the garden with Hotch and Beth not far behind them.

“I’ll be right back, just wait here a second,” He said, gently stroking over her spine with his warm hands, before he darted towards the group. Jack took off running towards Bugsy the second he saw her, and Spencer heard the small ‘ooft’ leave the woman as he collided with her stomach and nearly winded her. He was getting bigger by the minute, Spencer swore.

“Don’t you look dashing, boy wonder,” Morgan teased, flicking his finger under the lapel of Spencer’s two piece suit that Bugsy had told him more than once fit him like a glove, “Someone to impress?”

Spencer blanched, his eyes shooting to Emily who seemed to hide a smile, because his feelings for her sister were about as plain to see as the moon that coated their evening in a blue glow. Hotch looked over the younger agent’s shoulder, to where his son was throwing cents into Rossi’s fountain with Bugsy and making wishes, his eyes quickly falling to the pink cast around her wrist, and his face hardened.

“How is she?” He asked, lips pursed.

They had seen her in turns at the hospital, but most of the time she had been extremely out of it, Hotch had managed to catch her right before they took her into surgery for her arm, and even then he’d been ushered right back out of the room because they were getting her prepped to be scrubbed down.

Spencer bit his lip for a second, glancing over his shoulder at Bugsy fishing through her purse with her one good hand for more nickels, before he looked back at them, “She doesn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it, and don’t bring up her arm or her forehead, she’s a little delicate-”

He was cut off by Penelope squealing behind them, and they turned in unison to see the blonde woman cupping Bugsy’s face, checking herself for more abrasions, stroking over the younger girl’s shoulders as she simply allowed herself to be ragged like a doll.

Because it was Penny. And Penny always meant well.

Spencer flustered worriedly, and Morgan chuckled behind him, wrapping an arm over the kid’s shoulder.

“Can’t protect her forever, lover boy,” Derek said, patting him before he let go, taking Emily’s elbow and walking over to where they were serving hors d'oeuvres.

Spencer knew that, knew she could handle herself just fine without him. That was what worried him the most.

–

JJ looked beautiful in her mother’s wedding dress. Bugsy welled up with happiness, true happiness when she saw her friend walking down the aisle with her son, a spitting image of her, in one hand, her father’s arm in the other.

Will looked besotted, but then again he always did when he looked at JJ.

Bugsy felt the love in the entire yard as they said their vows, kissing each other without restraint under the floral arch as Henry covered his eyes with a little giggle and an ‘eww!’ which made everyone chuckle.

The violinists began playing soft hymns as the couple had their first dance, and Henry migrated towards the woman with the pink hand and the sapphire dress.

“Buggy,” He tugged on the bottom of her skirts, huge, sky-blue eyes blinking up at her behind a mop of blonde furls. “Buggy, your hand!”

She knelt down to hear the three year old a little better, and immediately tiny fingers trailed over her wrist worriedly.

“Your hand, it’s hurt,” He said, and Spencer crouched to comfort the boy who he still remembered holding hours after he was born.

“I know, I hurt myself at work,” She said, letting him run his fingers over the pink shelling, his eyes wide and confused about the new material, “But Mommy saved me, and she saved your Daddy, and she saved you, didn’t she? Isn’t she so brave,”

Henry smiled, like all his thoughts of his mommy being Wonder Woman were true, and he nodded, stepped towards Bugsy while making grabby hands for her neck, “Up,”

Spencer was about to protest, because he didn’t want her to push herself, but he knew she could never say no to kids, especially ones as cute as the boys.

“Alright, big man, up we go,” She put her good arm under his bottom, Spencer holding under her shoulder to help her into a stand with a repressed grunt, “Jesus, what did you eat for breakfast today. You really are a big boy, Henry,”

She put him on her hip, shoving off the way it stung her superficial cuts because Henry seemed happy, grabbing a section of her hair in his tiny hands, and stroking her head gently in what Bugsy guessed was the way JJ stroked his when he was unwell.

“Mommy says you have to have a magic kiss when you get hurt,” Henry babbled, and she smiled, her cheeks hurting because the kid was just sweet enough to eat.

“Oh, yeah? Is mommy magic then?” She entertained, feeling Spencer still a ghost over her shoulder in case she started struggling to hold the pre-schooler. His godson laughed like she told a joke, shaking his golden locks as he answered.

“No, Buggy,” He giggled, patting her cheek as she scrunched eyes shut with a smile, “You get a magic kiss when you get fixed. Like this,” He leaned in, leaving a big wet smooch on her cheek that made her giggle, tightening her hold on him with a shiny jaw. Henry turned to where Spencer watched them with a dazzling smile, pointing up at him, little fingernails waving in his face, “Spencer’s turn,”

His godfather faltered, his cheeks turning red and Bugsy looked between the two of them, amused.

“I can’t, I’m afraid Henry. I’m not magic like you and mommy,” Spencer replied, trying to brush the boy off as kindly as possible. Henry’s face frowned, because he had watched Uncle Spencer pull a coin out of his ear not even half an hour ago and so that statement seemed ridiculous.

“You have to! You have to give her magic kisses or she won't get better!” Henry ordered, trying to grab Spencer’s bow tie with vigour, “You have to!”

“Alright, alright,” Spencer agreed, his hands shooting up in surrender, “I’ll give her magic kisses,”

Bugsy looked at him with a heart stopping smile. She looked soft like butter, syrupy and warm as pudding. The moonlight washed her pupils with something like a cartoonish twinkle, and he hoped his forest eyes didn’t turn to two love hearts the way he felt like it did.

He raised one of his hands to her cheek, the same one Henry just kissed, holding her still. She was cool in the night air, or maybe his hand was just too warm because he was so nervous. He hoped he wasn’t shaking, but her jaw fit into the palm of his hand like it was always meant to be there.

He dipped his head in to give her a long, delicate kiss to her cheek, running a thumb down the apple of her cheek.

He pulled away from her, and they exchanged a look, something in her eyes he had rarely seen before. Figuring it was discomfort, or maybe just the light playing tricks on him, he stepped away, and Henry was quickly distracted by a frog hopping through the mildewed grass, and he set Bugsy on the task to help him catch it.

Spencer busied himself talking to Will and Derek in the hopes his heart would calm down any minute soon, but he had quickly felt himself becoming somewhat addicted to the feel of her skin beneath his lips. He wondered lewdly if the rest of her would feel so soft as her cheek had, and immediately scolded himself for it.

The thought haunted him for the rest of the night.

Penny twirled her around by her good arm, and the two of them giggled like school girls under the fairy-light woven pergola, the string quartet finishing off the fast paced song they had switched up the mood with. The blonde was careful about not jostling the woman too much, she could already feel Spencer and Emily’s worried looks from where they sat together at a table, nursing their drinks mid chat.

But whether it was the fact she had been cooped up for days on bed rest orders (Spencer’s, not the Doctor’s, though he’d argued that was the same thing,) or that last morphine patch had really given her a kick up the behind, but she seemed to be hiding the pain well.

JJ would only have one wedding, she’d argued with Spencer, she could have a hundred days in bed, but there would only be one night like this one; when they were all together, safe and happy, when there was enough palpable love in the air that fell over everyone's shoulders like a warm hug. He’d grumbled that he was usually the optimistic one and zipped up her dress for her with shaky fingers anyway.

Before Penny could spin her round even one more time, a figure appeared two tower over the blonde, and a voice cut in between them politely.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me lead the next dance, I think Reid and Prentiss might just tackle you if you shake her up anymore,” Aaron’s voice was soft, inviting with the one and a half beers he’d had edging at his tone, almost teasing in a way so rare for a man so stern.

Penelope looked over Bugsy’s shoulder to indeed see the woman’s two guard dogs watching her like a hawk, Bug’s already opened purse on Spencer lap where her emergency painkillers were.

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spencer frown like that, it’s like watching a puppy resource guarding,” Penelope faltered, looking the woman head to toe as if she was being held against her will to dance by the blonde, “You’re not hurt or anything- you’d tell me if you were hurt, wouldn’t you?”

Bugsy chuckled, throwing her good arm over the woman’s shoulder, “Relax, they’re both worry warts. I’m having fun, Pen. I think Hotch just wanted a turn with the ugly barbie,”

Against Penelope’s better judgement, she gave the woman a kiss on the cheek with a sigh of defeat, though she had been so careful not to push her in fear of her cracking another rib, but she had loved seeing Bugsy smile like that again.

Derek was quick to swoop in to save her, swooping in to steal her for a dance as Aaron gently took Bugsy’s waist and good hand, entirely respectable and gentle in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re okay, your bell got a little rung in that bank,” Aaron murmured, trying not to fret over the gash on her forehead that had a few butterfly stitches pulling it together. He remembered how frail she’d felt in his arms the last time he’d properly seen her, like a baby bird with its wings snapped in his hands. He was worried he was going to be burying her too, just like he had Emily, just like he had Haley, except he knew for her there wasn’t a catch, an escape route to Paris. There wouldn’t have been a do over.

But she was okay. Broken bones and all.

She smiled at him, as if to remind him just how alive she was, and he saw how her eyes were bloodshot and tired, as if it was taking all of her energy to keep her head upright.

“If you knew how many morphine patches are on my butt right now, you’d freak,” She said, and he laughed, because she was always good at getting those from him. Bugsy relaxed in his arms, and he rocked her side to side sweetly, not quite dancing but moving passively to the soft melody the band was playing.

Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t in work mode, or maybe it was because the night air was cosy and light, or maybe she just weaselled out the guilt that had been stored in his chest for nearly a year, but he let himself look at her with a sad, sepia gaze, and it was like she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” She cut in quickly, her own expression falling into something forlorn, “You have nothing to apologise for, Aaron,”

He took a deep breath through his nose, “I do. That wasn’t right how I treated you. You’re not spoiled.”

“I can be, sometimes,” She argued defeatedly, but he shook his head before she could add to it, “You were doing what was best to keep Emily safe, it was her I was more mad at than anything. She’s my sister, she should have trusted me, you and JJ didn’t owe me anything.”

“We owed you a better explanation than we gave,” He said, watching her sigh and rest her cheek on his shoulder. He cursed Spencer for allowing her to wear heels in her condition, though he didn’t doubt that the pretty boy had put up just as much fight as he would have seeing her grab the shoes on her way out, “I never meant to hurt you so much. And we do owe you better, we’re a family. Families fight, and they say mean things and they tell white lies sometimes but we love each other, and I only ever wanted to keep everyone safe. Okay?”

She nodded against his blazer material, dropping his hand in the interest of wrapping both her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, ignoring the dulled ache of her ribcage.

“I love you too,” She murmured, and he gave her a feather-light squeeze back, all too aware of her bones creaking under her skin, “I’m sorry I hit you,”

She let go of him, and he held her hand, the tips of her fingers poking out from beneath her cast that already had Jack’s name scrawled over in black sharpie.

“I deserved it, I was being cruel,” He said honestly. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but the emptiness in her laugh, in the way she’d stormed out, had scared him. He thought even if she lashed out, if she screamed at him or cried that would be better than the silent treatment because at least then he would know where she stood with him. But instead he had driven the knife in deeper, and for that he couldn’t say he blamed her for it, “I’ve had worse, much worse. Maybe you’re not as tough as you think,”

She baulked, and realised he was teasing her, “Maybe we could go round two Monday morning, I bet it would hurt a lot having a hard plaster cast swung at your face,”

“For me or for you?” She smacked his arm with her good hand, and it made him chuckle again, and soon she was laughing too, resting her head back onto his shoulder comfortably, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bug,”

“Did you not hear where I put those morphine patches? I could paper mache with those bastards,”

And they danced between chuckles for another half an hour.

–

“Wait, wait, you’re going to compress her spine,” Derek stopped, Bugsy dipped at his waist where he was supporting her full weight because she’d complained she missed dancing with Penelope. She hated people walking on eggshells around her, and if anyone was going to have fun with her who could still make sure she was safe, it was Derek.

The woman grinned up at him, Derek’s hands safely around her waist and not pressing on her ribs whatsoever, though she had to admit she was ready for another dose of painkillers after a few hours of dancing between Hotch, then to JJ who had swiftly been taken over by Henry who wanted to be lifted high enough he could hold Bugsy’s hands like he had seen the others doing. David had even entertained her with a very slow three step waltz, until Derek had been her next target because he seemed to be having the most fun whirling Emily around the dance floor.

“Spencer!” She said and Morgan returned her to full height once he saw Reid’s fretful expression. She pouted, “Spencer, I was having fun,”

“You know what’s fun? Eating cake is fun, drinking water is fun, resting on the couch is fun,” He said, and Morgan was quick to hand the baby Prentiss over to Reid who rifled around his pocket to produce the tablet version of her buprenorphine, “You need more medicine or it’s going to hurt worse in the morning, remember? Getting ahead of the pain?”

She sighed, nodding, and before he could pop two out of the shiny, metal coated tray, she stopped him, “Wait, dance with me first,”

He looked at her incredulously, eyes softening when she stepped closer to him, her hand coming over the top of his to push the pain killers away, “It’s going to hurt more if you don’t get ahead of it now,”

“I know, I know,” She muttered, nodding docilely, “Look, I promise if you just dance with me a little now, I’ll have my meds and take it easy for the rest of the night, no questions asked,”

He looked unconvinced, because she was known to put up a fight when it came to doing something she didn’t want to.

She sighed, “If I sit down now, I know I won’t be getting back up again for the rest of the night, and I wanted to enjoy myself until I couldn’t anymore,”

Spencer looked at her pleading puppy dog eyes, and broke almost embarrassingly fast, letting her follow his hand into his pocket, putting the drugs away and letting her take his now free hand in his own.

“I’ll have it known I tried to stop this when this catches up to you and you have to go lay down on Rossi’s spare bed,” He argued back, but felt his stomach flip when she laced her fingers with his, pushing herself closer to him as a means of drawing him out of his grumpy mood.

“He has more than enough, just dance with me,” She brushed his attitude off, wrapping her plaster-cast over his shoulder.

He took her waist gently, feeling the plush, softness of her hips and wishing the heat away from his cheeks. She looked divine under the fairy lights, ready to be whisked away by sleep yes, but the sleepy blinks added to her charm, and she was soft and pliant under his touch like a tame cat ready to curl up on his chest.

“I had so much fun,” She said, meeting his adoring gaze, probably because he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He nodded, worrying then if his hair was sitting right or if hid bowtie needed straightening. She was a goddess in his arms, the colour of her dress matching her skin beautifully, a few wisps of hair falling over her eyes from where Penny had damn near done the quick step with her.

She looked like a dream.

“I never thanked you for everything you did for me when Emily was-” She gulped, her eyes suddenly down turned, like she couldn’t admit anything to the hazel of his eyes, not when they looked at her like that. “You were the only thing I had for a very long time, and I never really said how much it all meant to me,”

“You’re my best friend, I’m always going to be there for you,” He said, lovingly stroking a thumb over her skin, his voice tender as this touch, “That’s what friends are for,”

Even though he was sure he’d never felt this way about any of his friends before, even the tiny crush he’d had on JJ for all of two weeks when he’d first started at the BAU didn’t even make a mark on how she got his chest hammering like a jackrabbit.

Her face flickered with something he couldn’t read, and she nodded, “Right. Friends.” She swallowed heavily.

She slumped against him, like the wind had been taken out of her, her head on his shoulder, but it felt nothing like when she had danced with Hotch.

It felt like everything she’d ever wanted was right in her grasp, like the one person who made her feel whole again was pressed against her, stroking down her spine with an affection she could swear blind was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Like the only air she knew how to breathe was filling her lungs, every note of fresh linen, the hair gel he sometimes used to tame his curls, down to the faint smell of his apartment, so filled with books the smell of worn leather and thin paper seeped into his clothes.

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew Spencer. She felt like she’d always known him.

He wasn’t just her friend, he was every bit of her that she wasn’t. Every ugly part of her that had always felt so alone, like loneliness was just ingrained into her since birth that seemed to jump up in a strange feeling of longing and home whenever he was near.

She let herself revel in his arms as long as she could, because she knew it was so illicit to be feeling so hungry for something she couldn’t have. She knew he was too good for her; she had never deserved any scrap of kindness he gave her. She could be mean, and rude, and loud, and ugly, and spiteful and he was everything she wasn’t. He was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and loving, and he didn’t deserve someone like her; he deserved so much better.

Bugsy let herself stay against his chest for a while longer, slowly swaying with him under the moonlight as JJ and Will took each other in their arms; a couple that fit together, Bugsy thought, two people who were so right for one another. Who deserved their happiness.

And so she selfishly let herself pretend she could have him as long as she could, silently dancing together under the pergola, until she agreed to go sit down because she would never admit that the ache in her side had started to seep back in, and he fussed over her some more and she told him he was being silly, but she preened under his affections anyway.

They’d reached a stalemate, Spencer would have probably called it.

Bugsy knew she shouldn’t want him, but she did. She shouldn’t want him because he was the pretty boy, the sweetheart that sat untainted by everything he’d seen and endured, the one who had jumped and cleared every hurdle life had thrown at him where she had fallen flat. He had gotten better on his own after Hankel; she had crashed and burned and taken nearly everyone with her. He was strong, and she was weak. She shouldn’t want him, it was selfish, but she did.

Spencer knew he couldn’t have her, because she was beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, beyond his best friend, beyond the girl who kissed him and didn’t ever want to talk about it again. He couldn’t have her because she was still healing, still wounded and vulnerable and rattled from barely recovering her relationship with her sister before she’d had a bank dropped on top of her. It would be wrong, it would be selfish, she would never want some scrawny kid from a shitty home where he was beaten up by girls even smaller than him and wedgied so hard he had to follow the librarian to class. He was a nobody. He couldn’t have her because she deserved so much better, but he wanted her.

They sat at a stalemate for a few weeks longer, until Emily got a job offer in London, and she asked Bugsy to take an internship at Interpol one of her old associates had sent to her. Twelve weeks learning how international databases worked, even some forensic work for Scotland Yard if she played her cards right.

And she took it; without much warning she took it, even if not to give herself some breathing space from how much her chest pined to be back in Spencer’s arms she had that night.

Bugsy headed to London, and didn’t look back.

2. The one with Maeve

Four Months. Bugsy had been in England for four months.

At first, they had called regularly, almost every other day, except the days she was just too tired to stay up until two am to call him when he got home. They had spent an hour on the phone at least; she had asked about the team, the cases, if he missed her yet which he always told her to knock it off because of course he missed her, and he had asked about London, and what England was like, and how Emily was doing.

Until around two months in when her schedule had changed to night shifts, and they could only ever communicate by texts, at which point he had been the one struggling to talk because he had no clue how to work his phone. She had called the odd time on her half an hour lunch break, but it was always rushed, never consistent, usually ending up with her excusing herself and hanging up on him fast because she was needed urgently somewhere else.

Cynically enough, the only time she could ever call was Sundays. Sundays when he was already busy, Sundays when he was admittedly on the phone, only he wasn’t talking to her.

He was talking to Maeve.

The geneticist he had been ready to tell her all about before JJ’s wedding, who had all but cleared up his migraines within a few sessions, who had asked him three days after Bugsy had flown out what had made his head flare up again and so he’d told her. Told her his best friend moved to another country temporarily, that he missed her and had been looking after her cats for her while she was gone because her new landlord wouldn’t let them have pets. And it had spiralled from there, she had asked more about the rest of his life, and he had asked about hers, and suddenly they weren’t just talking about his migraines anymore, they were flirting.

He hadn’t told Maeve that he was in love with said friend who had taken a great opportunity with both hands and fled the second she could. He couldn’t hold it against her, not when he was choosing his calls with Maeve over the only chance he had to speak to Bugsy, and four months really wasn’t that long in the scheme of things.

That was what he’d tried telling himself at least. He missed her more than anything, and the only thing that he’d found combatted the sting of her being gone was Maeve.

Maeve; who he had never seen, whose voice was sweet and alluring, who got his humour the way girls rarely ever did (besides Bug ofcourse). Who liked what he liked, and could talk his ear off about what she’d been reading, and about her day in the lab.

She was Bugsy in every other font, every other manner, and best of all she liked him. She told him weeks ago she liked him, that she wanted to date him, that he was her dream guy.

Call him a cynic for enjoying having a chance with someone, then that’s what he was.

Life since he had tried pushing away his unrequited feelings for one Prentiss girl had been going swimmingly. He liked their new team mate, Alex Blake, the brilliant linguist who warmed to him quite quickly; he had a girl at his heels who returned his feelings, who was everything he always said he looked for in a partner, even without having ever seen her face, and he was rather enjoying having Nico and Sergio around to keep him company.

But as it always did, the contented limbo he’d found himself in where he might actually be able to get a girlfriend came to a screeching halt on Sunday afternoon when he was stepping outside at three forty-five, readying himself for the ten minute walk to the nearest phone booth for their call at four pm on the dot. He had just about locked his front door, turning on his heel with his scarf draped over his shoulders when he had collided with someone’s chest.

“Oh I’m so- Bugsy?”

“Spencer!” She smiled at him wider than she ever had before, and she threw her arms over his shoulders because he had never protested to her affection before, “It’s so good to see you- I missed you so much, there’s so much I have to tell you-”

“What are you doing here?” It sounded like a confrontation, though he hadn’t meant it that way, just that he hadn’t been expecting her back for another two weeks at least and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her today, right before he was about to go call the girl he was sort of seeing, sort of not.

She bristled at his tone, because he didn’t sound nearly as happy to see her as she had expected. Pulling away, she realised he hadn’t even bothered to hug her back, and she tried to shove away the embarrassment that she’d never ever felt in front of him before.

“I- just- I wanted to surprise you. Interpol said I could finish early since I’d finished all my paperwork and could take the exams online in a few weeks,” She stammered, feeling uncharacteristically stuck for what to say. He flicked a look down to his wrist, his brows furrowed like she was taking up too much time, “Is something wrong, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you just-” He breathed heavily out of his nose, running a hand through his hair, “I’m late for something,”

“I’ll drive you!” She jumped at the chance, fishing for her keys in her pocket, “Car’s right out front, I sort of just threw it there because I wanted to see you,”

“I’m walking,” He said, in that frustrated tone again and she stopped looking at her jacket, her eyes snapping to his as he looked past her like she was in his way.

“O-okay, well then do you want company?” She said, her bag heavy with the souvenir she got him, though now it seemed to be weighing her down.

“It’s sort of personal,” He replied shortly, like she was a stranger selling him something on his doorstep, when really he was just cursing his luck that the girl he’d spent months trying to get over was here in front of him like someone was waving a bone in his face and he was a pup being told to sit. He was cursing the fact that he had spent hours and hours dreaming of the minute he’d see her again and she had showed up out of the blue after weeks of little to no communication like a damn hallucination of the senses.

She stopped then, her face contorting into a frown, “Is everything okay, are you sure I didn’t do anything-”

“You could have called, I’m kind of busy, Bugsy,” Spencer replied, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. It wasn’t her fault she was unravelling all of his progress just by being there. He thought he was finally getting over her, and with one whiff of her perfume, of her shampoo mixed with her natural scent, he was remembering just how in love with her he had been just a few months ago, like Pavlov’s fucking dog.

Her face fell then, into something kicked and hurt, “Sorry- my phone died on the plane, I didn’t even think, I just- I just wanted to see you,”

He faltered, the frustration leaking out of him, but before he could really say much else, she’d taken a step away, swung around to head for the stairs, “Sorry, I’ll call next time, sorry I got in your way, Spence,”

And she sounded genuine, not annoyed like he would expect for someone who’d been spoken to like trash. The guilt seeped in almost immediately, but then his mind ticked over the minutes he had left until Maeve would be expecting a call. Nine minutes now, he would need to speed walk.

He could make it up to Bugsy as soon as he was done with the girl who was almost her but not.

–

Spencer felt like an idiot. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on her face when she had left his apartment, nor had he not stopped chiding himself for not heading straight out after her.

His phone call with Maeve hadn’t gone how he’d expected, which would have been the only thing soothing the burn of his scathing tone, except she had hung up rather abruptly after he had suggested they meet up, something that had played on his mind for weeks now.

“Are you being safe?” He asked, the payphone hard and cold in his hand as he pressed it to his ear.

She chuckled softly down the phone, a sound that would have made his heart flutter if he hadn’t been feeling so wound up about seeing Bugsy, “Yes, I’m being safe,”

“Do you think he knows about us?” Spencer dared to ask after a moment of silence, because he could tell it was worrying her too. He wondered if the two of them would be dating by now if it wasn’t for the fact she had a stalker who may or may not turn his attention to Spencer if he realised they were seeing one another.

“No, as far as I can tell he doesn’t,” She said, her voice slightly more rigid than what he was used to. Her voice was always honey smooth when they spoke, and Spencer had more than enough time to wonder if it ever matched what she looked like. “And we need to keep it that way,”

The line went dead, and with it the only thing that he’d been telling himself was worth hurting his best friend even the tiniest bit went with it.

Spencer felt like an asshole. He’d tried calling Bugsy’s phone, then when she hadn’t answered he’d tried asking Penelope, who said she’d gone to visit JJ, Will and Henry since he was too busy.

At least that would have lightened her mood, he hoped, as he walked into the office Monday morning, and saw her at her desk, already chatting to Penelope with Derek’s arm around her shoulder.

She was all smiles today, pretty much how she had looked yesterday before he had all but kicked her out, and the sinking feeling in his chest tripled when she looked past Penelope’s shoulder and saw him. Her eyes wavered for a second, head turning downwards as if she hadn’t properly spotted him,

“Pretty boy! Look who it is,” Derek called him over, even though he was already speed walking and he stopped in front of her, looking her head to toe for the first time fully.

He realised then her hair was slightly different, that she’d had it cut shorter since the last time he’d seen her, that she’d gotten a new ear piercing. It made her look older, more mature than when he’d last seen her, or maybe he had just not seen her in so long. Maybe he just hadn’t bothered, he thought painfully.

“I saw him yesterday,” Bugsy said, and he felt caught immediately, Penelope’s head whipping to him, “He was kinda busy though, weren’t you, Spence? More of a passing visit.”

She sounded indifferent to yesterday’s rudeness, like it hadn’t really phased her despite the fact he’d seen for his own eyes the way her expression dropped.

“I was- I had an appointment,” He said, because he felt the need to explain himself even if he couldn’t.

She smiled at him, something dampened and fake, “I leave for a few months and suddenly boy wonder is too busy to talk to me, what is the world coming to,” She joked, and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, though Penny and Derek laughed.

“No, really, I had an appointment-” He tried to reason, but Penelope stopped him before he could fret too much, his hands wringing and he tried to lie on the spot without getting caught.

“She’s just kidding, Spence, don’t worry,” Pen shook him off warmly, quickly grabbing Bugsy’s arm tightly, the faint scar where she’d had her surgery trailing up her skin, “Now, to my bat cave, where we can talk all about just how good British guys are in bed without the boy germs getting all over our gossip,”

Bugsy laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along, right past Spencer without a second glance, despite the fact he looked like he was about to throw up.

Why hadn’t he thought about that? Why hadn’t he considered for a second that she would meet anyone, if not seriously, then for a one night stand? What if all those nights she was too busy to talk she had been with someone, someone much cooler and hotter and overall more experienced than he was. He was thirty years old and he had only ever slept with two women, one being Austin the bartender she’d told him to go after despite him lingering around her the whole night, the other being a girl he’d met in O’Keeffes after a hard case when he had been a few months sober, wanting anything, anyone, to take his mind away from going back to the little vial of trouble.

How could he be so stupid? Of course she’d be hooking up with other people. She was young and gorgeous and smart as a whip and single. She’d be any guy's dream.

He knew he was being so, so disgustingly hypocritical. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Maeve for months, and yet here he was seething with jealousy at the very thought of Bugsy being with someone who could love her without feeling guilty for loving her.

Spencer swallowed his pride and set his stuff down on his desk, watching Penelope grab Alex and drag her to her bat cave on her way, the older woman lighting up at the fact she was meeting the Bugsy Prentiss.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and felt a migraine start to ache behind his eyes.

–

“Alex- Blake, where are you going?” Spencer called, shoving his cell in his back pocket as he jogged toward the woman about to climb into the SUV.

Sure enough, Bugsy had been back in the office for one hour before they were getting pulled into another case, and she was more than happy to jump in to help with her new found skills in Interpol.

It was a gruesome case, which was saying something for all the shit they’d seen. The UnSub was amputating legs off one victim to then put onto his next one. There had been one guy waking up in his hotel room with both legs missing below the knee, then another gentleman had walked into an ER room with legs that weren’t his own attached to his sockets.

It made Bugsy’s skin crawl, but that was simply a day's work for them. They were at the most recent victim’s body; a woman who seemed to have been too weak to survive the surgery had been dumped on the street with her limbs switched to someone else’s. They had at least one other victim they hadn’t found yet, the girl thought darkly.

“Hotch called, he wants us back at the station ASAP,” The woman replied, Bugsy at her side.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main, it’s on the way?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest to ignore the frown the youngest Prentiss gave him, confusion written across her face.

“Uh, yeah sure. What’s at 5th and Main?” Alex asked, also confused as to what was so pressing he needed to side track their case.

“I need to talk to somebody,” He replied shortly, the same cut off tone he’d used with Bugsy just the day before, and Alex faltered.

“Yeah, uh, okay. Sure.” She agreed, not wanting to rock the boat considering she was still so new to the BAU. She looked over at Bugsy, who seemed disgruntled as she headed for the passenger side, Spencer climbing into the back of the SUV with a troubled look on his face when their eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re coming with us?” He asked, looking on edge when he saw she’d gotten into their car and not into JJ’s like she had on their way over there.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Bugsy asked, and he shrugged, playing with his fingertips in his lap.

“No, that’s fine, I just didn’t know you were coming with us,” He replied shortly, his face starting to warm when he realised how rude he’d sounded. He heard her sigh, and look out the window with no more protest in her.

Alex didn’t ask questions as she put the handbrake down, perhaps sensing the tension in the car between the two agents, and she didn’t need to be a profiler to tell there was either a lot unsaid between them or maybe even words that no one could take back.

Either way she did as he’d asked, because Bugsy hadn’t actually protested, just bit at her fingernails that said she was thinking too hard, and stepped on the gas.

–

The car pulled around to where a dimly lit payphone sat, empty and looking like it hadn’t been used in years. Which it probably hadn’t, besides as a dog urinal.

Alex stopped the car, and Spencer was already opening the door before she could even put it into neutral, “Do you want us to wait?”

“Uh, you know what, it might take a while, so I’ll just get a cab back,” He said, his tone clipped and leaving little room for questions. He felt Bugsy staring at him in confusion from the front seat, and he avoided her gaze like the plague, even if there was something sad in them that he was being so distant. “Thanks anyway,” He hopped out the car slamming the door shut, and digging through his pocket for change as he headed for the payphone.

Alex drove off, and he felt his chest get lighter for it, because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the act.

He hated lying, especially to her. Every morsel of his being writhed in discontent whenever he would lie, like the truth was just begging to slip out one way or another, and he knew he would only feel all the more guilty for it as soon as the case was over and he couldn’t avoid her eyes that haunted him like a wraith or her touch that seemed to have been kept to herself since he had snubbed her hug at his doorway.

He knew he was pulling away, knew she was doing the same thing, and he hated it.

Bugsy sat in the car, her face moody as anything as she glared out the window and Alex took the corner around the block.

“So is it usually like this between you two?” Alex dared to ask, her food steady on the pedal, “The lingering looks, the awkward silences? From what Penelope told me, the two of you are as close as can be,”

“Yeah, usually we are,” Bugsy replied coldly, and within a second she was unplugging her seatbelt, “In fact, pull back around the block. I’m done with him being an asshole without an explanation.”

Alex felt like she had just pulled a pin from her grenade with her delicate question, though she had meant entirely well, and did as the girl told her to, worried just what might blow up in her face if she didn’t.

Spencer had already dialled the number he knew off by heart, with or without his eidetic memory, by the time they pulled around.

His face dropped, knowing the returning call would be coming any minute now and he just hoped Maeve wasn’t too worried about him. But he had no time to think about her, because the second he saw Bugsy getting out of the car he could tell she was pissed.

Pissed in a way she had never been with him, but then he supposed, he had never treated her like that either.

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth, Spencer, because I’m tired of the clipped responses and the pushing me away,” She said, walking over to him like he owed her money. Which he didn’t. But he did owe her a good explanation as to what the hell was going on with them, “Did I do something? You can tell me if I’m an asshole, I know I can be an asshole, but you have to tell me so I can fix it-”

“You haven’t done anything, Bug, just please get back in the car,” Spencer cut her off, which was clearly the wrong move as he saw her brow raise at him.

“Something’s not right, Spencer,” Alex agreed, though she held back because hurricane Bugsy seemed to be more than enough intimidation for the guy, “What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean? Why did you guys come back?” He rushed, because he could feel his face warming, and he played with his fingertips like he did when he was struggling.

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Bugsy chided, and he rubbed his palm with his thumb self-soothingly, and that was what tripped him up. Her eyes zeroed on his hands, looking back up at him and he almost went white at the predicament he’d found himself in, “You’re lying about something,”

“No, I’m not, I would never lie to you-” She pulled his hands apart, looking at him with hurt written across her soft features.

“Bullshit, I know when you’re lying, Spencer, or did you just forget that we’re best friends. That seems to mean nothing to you nowadays,” She snapped, and he could only look back at the phone booth, knowing that she would be calling any second now, “Are you even listening to me?”

Her tone was hurt, wounded, because he had to admit he was being inconsiderate.

“A while back, I found a geneticist that helped clear up my migraines, and we stayed in touch while you were in London,” He said, because that was all true, and she couldn’t call him a liar again if he was telling the truth.

“So? What does that have to do with the case,” Alex prompted, her own face scrunched in ire as he hopped around the subject.

“I think maybe my friend may be able to see something we’ve missed.” Spencer rushed out, his eyes puppy like as he willed Bugsy to stop looking so damn betrayed.

“You have four of the best minds I know back at the station, you have a woman with a biochemistry master's standing in front of you who dabbled in medicine for fun, but you need your friend for help?” Alex responded, because there was no way he was getting out of the hole he’d dug himself if she had anything to say about it. She too, as new to the team as she was, had no time for secrets on a job where trust meant everything.

“I know, but sometimes a different perspective helps me think better, okay?” He replied, his hand itching to take his palm back because he knew it still wasn’t the full truth.

Bugsy scoffed, crossing her arms over one another, and shifting her weight to one foot.

“You’re being ambiguous, you always do that when you’re lying,” She muttered, loud enough for him to hear and he gulped, turning his head to the ground.

“All of this begs a bigger question, why did you ask me to bring you?” Alex asked, because she was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, but his spine straightened impossibly when the payphone began ringing, and he seemed skittish like a naughty school child.

“You could have asked JJ or Morgan to drive you, but you asked me. You had a problem with Bugsy coming, because you didn’t think she’d be with us, so what’s the deal? Why me?” Alex pushed, and Spencer flustered, his head whipping around to where the high pitched chime continued, and he knew she didn’t have much time before the line went dead.

“Alex, please,” Spencer begged, feeling Bugsy’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he avoided her gaze like the plague.

“Just answer the question,” Bugsy bit out, because she was sick of being ignored all day, of being treated like she was contaminated or like he had never known her a day in his life. Not when she had flown on the first plane back to see him because she missed him more than she could ever tell him.

Not when she had been racing up the stairs to his apartment, her souvenir in her bag, the words on the foreword written in her own hand ready to tell him how she felt.

Because she knew it, after weeks of not seeing him, hours of just missing him and the few texts back and forth, she knew it. She knew she had to tell him, even if they had to brush it under the rug to be friends again, even if it was a shot in the dark she had to tell him.

She couldn’t choke it down anymore.

Only when she’d gotten there, thrown her arms around him, he almost felt like a stranger beneath her hand, almost felt like he never even knew her.

Spencer sighed heavily, looking at Alex because he thought he might just crack if he looked at Bugsy when he said it.

“Because I didn’t want them to know about her, alright?”

And she knew it then, knew it by the way he’d softened entirely when he said her, the way he seemed to melt just by thinking of her, the way he cowered into taking a step back towards the phone booth. It wasn’t just his geneticist, it was someone else entirely. Someone so much more to him.

Bugsy felt a lump in her throat, and she forced with all her might to not let her eyes well with tears. Because friends didn’t feel like they’d been sucker punched in the gut at hearing they were seeing someone else. Friends didn’t feel an all consuming jealousy writhe under their skin at the idea of them being with someone who wasn’t them, feeling something for someone who wasn’t them.

That wasn’t what just friends did.

And Bugsy thought with horror, as he picked up the phone and spoke in hushed, gentle tones that he once did with her, that they might never be friends again.

3. The one with their first date

Things were weird. Really weird. And painful. Really, really fucking painful.

Bugsy and Spencer had never been like this, never been so cold besides the first time they’d ever met, and even then she had warmed him from the inside out. She was sharing her sharlotka within hours of even knowing him, never even knowing he was knee deep in an addiction he was struggling to face alone, and that she had made him feel better than he had in weeks with her smile and her kindness and her quick witted brain.

Things were strange between them, and it was becoming noticeable too.

She boarded the jet behind Alex, the woman taking a seat next to Hotch at the table, the only other seat left being next to Reid, who stopped midway through what he was saying.

“It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes, eighty four percent of stalking victims have some sort of original connection with their stalkers, meaning-” He paused, and so did she for a fraction of a second, debating whether to sit beside him. She straightened quickly, dipping her head down and looking to the floor, and bristling past the empty seat to sit herself next to JJ on the couch.

He cleared his throat, trying to look like his face hadn’t dropped in hurt, and continued.

Hotch and JJ exchanged a look, the same silent message reading clear in their eyes.

The blonde looked up from her file as the others chatted, Penelope piping up from their computer, and glanced at the younger woman who was unpacking her things on her lap, despite there being a perfectly good table next to them.

“You alright, Bug?” JJ asked, trying not to seem too worried, yet she knew she was coming off troubled by the tense behaviour from the pair of them.

It had been three weeks of this, the silences, the uncomfortable pauses, the avoiding each other at all costs. The only time they ever really spoke was on a case, when they were closing in on an UnSub and their feelings had to be put to one side for the moment. Well, her feelings. Because all of his feelings were occupied as of the moment. With Maeve.

She couldn’t stomach talking about the woman anymore, couldn’t stand Derek’s teasing remarks about how lover boy was getting lucky, or Penelope’s thousands and one questions about the geneticist that she knew had come from a place of care, or Alex’s motherly guidance on his love life. The entire thing made her feel queasy, and she stayed quiet most days in the way he’d always hated, the way he’d always tried to pry her out of.

But nowadays he didn’t bother. Didn’t bother much with her at all, really.

“Yep,” Bugsy said, her lips tight, “Peachy,”

JJ knew not to ask any more than that.

–

Human marionettes were a first for her, she had to admit. They had already found two victims stuffed into boxes with craft paper surrounding them, their limbs almost entirely broken out of their sockets ante-mortem. It was a time sensitive case, with two deaths in three days and no sign of slowing down, and so that meant that of course the two brains of the team were assigned together, even if Hotch saw the way her face dropped when he’d said it.

She was drawing the geographical profile on the board, the squeaking of the marker against the screen the only sound in the room aside from Spencer’s flicking of pages.

“Did you get the first dump site?” He asked, even though he knew she more than likely would have done.

“Mhm,” She said, not bothering to actually say anything, because it was a stupid question she knew he was only asking to fill the awkward silence between them.

“What about the store that sold the outfits, did you get-” He started, only for her to cut him off with a clipped tone.

“Got it, and I got the radius around the store, and I got the second dumpsite.” Bugsy replied, capping the lid to the marker pen and setting it down on the desk beside him, “I’m going to get coffee. Want one?”

Though she didn’t stick around long enough to really hear his response. She simply waltzed out of the room to the tiny kitchenette the police station had to offer, in search of anything that would keep her occupied and away from snapping at him.

What had she really got to be mad at him for? For getting a girlfriend? For rubbing it in everyone's face how happy she made him, how perfectly suited she was for him? Except she didn’t think that last one was necessarily true, it just felt that way because it cut her so deep to hear about the girl who was everything she wanted to be. She had no right to be mad at him for anything except being distant with her since she got back from London.

She still made him a coffee half heartedly, swirling in a tonne of sugar the way she knew he would like, because he never changed being so perfectly him in the time she was away.

She used to tell him he didn’t need all that sugar because he was sweet enough as he was, because it was true. He used to be entirely honeyed and saccharine when he spoke to her, now she was lucky if she got a full good morning.

Bugsy bit her lip to stop it from quivering, and took the mugs back to the tiny office they were stationed in, seeing Alex at the door and hearing half their conversation.

“Is this about, uh, phone booth girl?” Blake asked, and Bugsy wanted to snap because what else would they be talking about. Her name was Maeve, she wanted to snarl, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve, Queen of the Fairies and of Spencer’s heart, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

She never hated a name so viscerally, though she knew in deep down it wasn’t her fault. Maeve didn’t do anything wrong, she just fell in love with Dr Spencer Reid and his charms. She couldn’t blame her, really. It wasn’t difficult to do so.

“She wants to meet,” Spencer’s voice was soft and nervous, and it was the most she’d heard him talk all day.

Bugsy froze, and Alex’s jaw dropped, “Wait, you guys have never met?” She saw Spencer shake his head just before she rounded the corner back into the office, feeling like she was intruding immediately, “Aren’t you curious what she looks like?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what she looks like, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” She stopped at the doorway, feeling like she’d had the entire cup of hot coffee dumped over her chest in a scalding pain the minute she’d heard it.

Spencer called her beautiful many, many times before, both when she’d been done up to the nines and even when she was running away from a damn wedding in the middle of a storm and she looked like a sewer rat.

But that didn’t matter, because everything about Maeve was beautiful to him, and that was where she seemed to draw the short straw. Because who would find her selfishness beautiful? Or her spoiled nature, or how she could be so crass and rude she had been in more fights before she started the BAU than she’d care to admit. But Maeve was nothing like that. She was sweet and gentle and beautiful on the inside.

Bugsy plonked his coffee down harder than she’d wanted to, and he thanked her, pausing for a second as he looked between Alex and Bugsy, the second woman now sipping her steaming coffee freely and pinning maps to an adjacent board as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He said, fiddling with his sleeves, “I mean; I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked,”

“Your hair’s fine,” Alex combats back, watching the girl down her drink in a few sips, “Jesus, do you have asbestos in your throat?”

Bugsy turned to her and shrugged silently, “I’m tired, I needed the caffeine,”

Alex watched her with a hesitant eye, as if she was keeping just as close an eye on her as Jennifer but didn’t want to say, before she stepped away from the doorway, “Alright, I gotta run. You kids update us if you find something out.”

And with that Blake took her leave, leaving the room in silence for a moment, and Bugsy heard Spencer thinking too loud with that big brain of his.

She sighed, tacking a map of the city up next to the other one with points of interest noted on, “You’ll be fine,” She said after a minute, and he froze.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, formally like she asked to sit next to him on the bus or to squeeze past him in a store.

“I said you’ll be just fine on your date with Maeve,” She reiterated, using a purple sharpie to start drawing the routes the victims took to work.

Spencer sighed, shuffling papers around his desk, “How can you be so sure?”

She looked at him then, properly looked at him and he felt his breath almost catch. He’d been telling another one of his half truth’s earlier, because he couldn’t very well say just how many night’s he’d thought about Bugsy being all over him, about kissing her and sweeping her off her feet, about squeezing her close to him in a passionate embrace and never letting her slip away again. He thought about all the times she professed how much she loved him and how good a friend he was to her, and how happy she made him, and how he had spent the first year of knowing her getting to know her for that big brain of hers that rivalled his own.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he couldn’t have her. He could have Maeve though. He could meet her and fall in love with her and marry her. He could do it. But she still wouldn’t be her.

She smiled at him like she had a secret, one she was willing to share with him, one that came at a cost but she would give it to him anyway because it was him and she was so good to him and deserved so much better.

“What’s not to like about you, Spencer?” She said softly, her expression that of a street dog looking for scraps.

He swore he shuddered when she said his name like that, but he tried a smile back at her anyway. But it was too late, she’d already turned away to continue plotting the points on the map.

Spencer felt his chest swell in a way Maeve had never gotten it to do.

–

He felt stupid. Half an hour of primping himself in the BAU bathroom, worrying and fussing over what he was wearing and if his hair sat right and if his face looked too skinny, he had made it to the restaurant only to baulk at the last minute when he’d seen a guy in a booth flicking his head to look back at where he was sat in a window seat, a red rose potted in the middle of the table and an empty chair across from him.

He had panicked and called Maeve, told her to go home because her stalker was there at the restaurant, and she had done just that with little to no question. Only for him to see, minutes later, the guy he thought was her stalker being approached by another guy and he realised he had likely been looking out the window to check for taxi’s parking outside the restaurant.

Spencer had blown it, the one chance he had at meeting her in person, and he felt more like an idiot than ever.

He didn’t care about the weird rift between them at that moment, he just wanted to see Bugsy, because she always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better. Like she had a talent for it, even when he had not been the best friend himself.

He knew he had to fix it, knew it didn’t matter if it was a little unethical to be on the cusp of having a girlfriend whilst also pining after his best friend, he didn’t care. He wanted to set things right with her just to have his best friend back.

He walked up to her apartment complex, the excuse already brewing in his head that he missed Nico and Sergio, that he maybe missed her a whole lot too but he knew the cats were a sweetened deal way of getting him through the door. Because she would never say no to him seeing the boys.

And then he would tell her, that he’d been an asshole the past few weeks, that he’d been struggling to understand how to balance time between her and his almost girlfriend, because that was a much better half truth than the fact he was trying to bury his feelings for her so deep they couldn’t see the light of day or else his life would be entirely ruined.

That’s exactly what he would say.

Spencer felt a little better than he had leaving the restaurant knowing he’d messed up his chance. In all honesty, he was excited to have Bugsy back, even if his night wasn’t exactly going to plan.

He waltzed up the stairs he’d been on a million times. She loved his apartment, she always said so, but he insisted her TV was bigger and so they usually stayed at hers to watch Dr Who when the newest episodes came out.

Spencer hesitated for a second, hoping his plan worked before he rapped on the door with boney knuckles, his hand fingering the strap of his bag nervously as he heard her moving behind the door.

“One second!” She called, and he chuckled, she had probably fallen asleep on the sofa without pants on, or maybe even just gotten out the shower, either way he heard her scrambling to get clothes on and then-

She swung the door open, and his eyes quickly dropped to her neck that had a long row of hickeys trailing down to her collar bone. His small smile at seeing her vanished like one of those magic tricks he liked to do, and he realised her lip gloss was smudged over her chin, her shirt definitely wasn’t her own and he didn’t actually think she had even bothered to put on underwear beneath the large band tee she’d clearly thrown on in the middle of passion.

Bugsy looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Spencer!” She said, her voice choked up like she was exhausted, and he felt his stomach turn. He looked away from her, like he couldn’t stand to even look at her, “I thought you were with Maeve- yo-your date,”

“I had to cancel, it wasn’t safe,” He murmured, tugging the strap of the bag tighter around his shoulder.

He felt like a complete loser. More than he ever had being shoved into lockers, being dipped into toilet water, being led around by the librarian and her damn butterscotch.

Spencer felt like his chest was caving in, which he knew was fair on no one to admit, but it was true.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately, scanning him over for wounds, “Are you hurt- Is Maeve okay?”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard foot steps and a hand appeared around her waist, tugging her into a muscled body as the door opened wider.

“Who is it, babe?” A deep voice spoke, and Spencer felt his face go green when he saw the adonis of a man who stood behind her, his chest littered with smudged lip gloss and bruises resembling her own neck trailing down to his crotch.

Her face was on fire when Spencer looked back at her, something betrayed in the hazel of his eyes which he knew was entirely illicit to feel in the circumstances, but it was true.

“Fuck off, Renly,” She shoved him back behind the door, looking at Spencer like the friendship between them they were scrambling to salvage hung in the balance with whatever she said next. “You remember Renly, my lab partner at Johns,”

Spencer nodded, the image of her lips on his pubic bone wouldn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what came after that, “I remember him,”

She nodded back, and they went silent.

They’d found themselves back at that stalemate.

TAGLIST:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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leeharkerd · 3 months ago

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warnings: public sex, mentions of fisting, overstimulation, pussy inspections, thigh-riding, impact play, sex toys, bondage mentions?, possessiveness, rimming, masturbation, crying during sex, hair pulling, deepthroating, slut-shaming, this shit is so ooc but i could care less

exhibitionist!queen maeve who backs you up into any corner or wall at any chance she gets to push her muscled thigh between your own, testing your desperation and need for her in public "dont want people to hear us do you? for people to catch us? so do us both a favor and keep quiet." you could feel your own juices covering her thigh, but she kept at it. continuing to flex her thigh against your pussy until you finally came.

mean!queen maeve who slutshames you to humiliate you, putting her cigarettes out on your thighs. "you like being my ashtray, hm?" her big, veiny hands parting your legs to tease you through your panties as she groans mixed insults and praises. she wants to work you to the edge, see how fucking far you go but she knows you cant handle it. "come on look at me." she slaps your clothed clit harshly to get your attention but it just fucking tips you over, and you cum right then and there. shes surprised, but that doesnt keep her from rubbing you. "let me hear you. let me hear how much you like being fucked and slapped around like you're nothing. don't you have any self respect? any dignity? or are you just a whore? a whore, made to be used hm?"

possessive!queen maeve who bends you over any counter to inspect your pussy, making sure nobody has ever touched you besides herself. opening up your lips and poking and prodding at your open cunt, licking her lips as she pushes a finger or two in, listening to the way you whine and squeeze around her fingers. saying that "shes only ever wanted the best for you" while fucking your cunt with 3 fingers, her other hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as you writhe. you shake and cry as she presses her thumb to rub your clit, wanting you to tell her that you'll never let anyone use you besides her. "your pussy was made for my fingers, they just fit so perfect. just makes me wonder how many i could fit, if i could maybe even fit my whole fuckin' hand in here." making it known that shes the only one who could touch and fuck you the way she does, the only one who knows how to play with you.

(CONSENSUAL) perverted!queen maeve who will stare at you like youre fucking meat. grope your tits while youre making the bed, only for her to finger your cunt until youre gushing onto her palm. she'll come up behind you while youre cleaning, pulling her arms around your waist and slipping her hands beneath the waistband of your panties. "i bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, bend you over anything." she says, her big hand cupping your pussy just so perfectly as she rubs your clit to completion. sometimes she'll even run her hands over the arch of your back and down to your ass while youre making dinner, pulling your pants down to your ankles as she drops to her knees to run her tongue over your perfect little hole. she'd even go as far to masturbate in the living room while you're watching tv "look don't touch" making you stare at her as she runs her own hands over her nipples, as she pushes a finger deep into her own pussy as you watch and listen.

pathetic!queen maeve who whines as she sucks on your clit, because shes just so damn desperate to please you. her hands clasp around your thighs and youre sure its gonna mark so you grab her hair, craning her head back so you can get a better look at her face. her mascara is running down her cheeks, your juices smeared around her lips, and all she can do is just look at you with the most pathetic puppy eyes ever. "all..all i ever want is you." soon enough you have her sprawled out on the bed, a vibrating bullet buried deep into her pussy, and all she can do is strain against the restraints as the toy brings her to climax."i just want...want to make you happy." later, shes back to her knees, crying as you push your fake cock deep into her throat. when you pull away from her all she does is push her face up closer to you, the spit-covered cock up against her cheek now.

touch starved!queen maeve who cums in a solid 3 minutes after not being with anyone in almost 5 years, shes almost embarrassed until you work her right up to another one. she's crying, tiny little tear drops leaving her eyes as she cums once more, and all she can do is beg. "pleasepleaseplease- fuck me again, i-i can take more." and she's desperate, really, you know that. but how can you fucking deny her when shes begging like that?

okay so this isnt the stuff i usually write, but ive been SOOO obsessed with her lately. yes i know there is grammar mistakes i wrote this so late at night so bear with me...if its that bad put it in grammarly <3

#queen maeve smut #queen maeve #the boys #the boys smut #queen maeve x reader #wlw post #smut

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gorgeys · 3 months ago

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kinda pervy!queen maeve x femsupe!reader

sorry this is so long but i finished season 3 and had to get this out of my system. maeve come home the kids miss you.

and pls more ppl write for her 🙏🙏

she doesn't want to be like this. she really doesn't. but as you sit down at your new seat across from her at your first seven meeting, all of her morals fly right out the window.

you're smiling up at homelander as he introduces you, but all maeve can see are your hands attempting to pull the low cut neckline of your suit up to cover more of your tits. your suit's brand new and, like starlight's, shows more skin than your previous one which takes some getting used to on your end.

vought's costume department also made quite a few mistakes so your new suit is basically a size too small. it's the world's best push-up bra, giving maeve so much to look at. but it's the small opening of your suit over your rib cage that really gets her. it shows just the teeniest big of your underboob and it's already driving her wild.

you're already not leaving up to imagination, but still, she wants to reach across the table and rip the black leather right off of you. she wants to run her cold hands all over your chest and make your nipples turn hard under her thumbs. she wants to grope and squeeze your tits and watch as your face morphs between pain and pleasure.

when you look over at her, you finally notice that she's been staring at you with what appears to be the meanest death glare you've ever seen. she's leaning forward with her elbows on the table and a clenched jaw as if you're her next target. you look away quickly, already scared of her. you just hoped she didn't hate you. she was your idol after all. oh, if you only knew what she was thinking.

you're too pre-occupied to notice, but every time you leave the conference room after a meeting, she always walks behind you. of course, it's not an accident. nothing she does is an accident.

she notices that whenever you walk in front of one of the boys (especially the deep), your hands constantly rest along the hem of your skirt which barely covers your bare ass, ready to pull it down and obstruct their prying eyes. but with her, you don't seem to care. it's probably because you think that you're both girls so you don't have anything to worry about. little do you know she's the worst of them all.

her eyes constantly peek beneath your skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. a couple times she does get lucky and sees a bit of your white or pink cotton underwear. one time she gets really lucky and instead catches your black lace panties and wonders who you could be wearing those for. it's moments like those where she hopes you know she's looking. she wants you to wear those for her, no one else.

but most days she's not that fortunate. instead she just watches the sway of your hips and ass as you both walk over to the elevator. again, she wants to run her hands all over you and feel every single curve. she visualizes herself squeezing your ass and whispering in your ear how soft and smooth your skin is. then she imagines bending you over something so she can see all of you.

but then you enter the elevator and turn around and smile sweetly at her. having spent enough time in the seven, you know she won't ever smile back, but it doesn't really bother you. you've accepted that's just who she is. meanwhile, she contemplates pressing the emergency stop button, slamming you against the wall, and shoving her fingers so far inside of you that your brain goes fuzzy and tears are slipping down your pretty cheeks.

it's that same thought that keeps her awake at night. she can almost hear your whines and moans echoing in her head. she can hear you begging to cum all over her face and promising you'll be a good girl for her. you're so loud in her head that she can't help but reach under her shorts and rub circles on her clit as she whispers your name into her pillow. she thinks about fucking you so often that, to her, it feels like it's really happened.

one time she comes back late from a team-up and, on her way toward her room, peeks into the training room to find you practicing moves on a punching bag. she stops and just watches through the window for a second. your back is to her but your hair is up and she can see the sweat dripping off your neck, some of it hitting the mat beneath your feet. she wonders what it tastes like. probably salty, but also sweet because it's you after all. she'd lick your sweat right off your neck in long stripes. she'd probably lick it off the floor too if she was feeling extra thirsty.

she's torn. she's tired and you look tired and if homelander catches her, he'll know something strange is going on. but as you turn slightly toward her and use your tank top to wipe some sweat of your forehead, she makes her decision.

"hey" she says, leaning against the door frame. you whip your head around and are more than surprised to see her of all people with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug half smile. "need a training partner?"

you weren't going to say no to this uncharacteristically kind offering, even if you were just about to head upstairs. so you're jumping around the mat at nearly midnight, dodging her blows and getting in a few licks of your own. you're a pretty good fighter, but not as good as her, so it's not long before she has you pinned to the mat with one forearm against both your shoulders.

your chest is heaving beneath her arm and your mouth is slightly open. she's never been this close to you before. she feels like she's on fucking fire, feeling herself on top of you like this and feeling her skin against yours. she would've been able to control herself if you weren't staring into her eyes like that, looking a little dazed but excited. who can blame her for closing the distance and kissing you like there's no tomorrow?

you're beyond shocked. more like stupefied. you'd never even had an inkling that she had thought of you in this way. in fact, you assumed she wanted to kill you sometimes. but the way she kissed you so hard and dug her teeth in your bottom lip made you want her so badly that you could feel your panties growing wet.

with your little crush on her, you thought about this moment sometimes and assumed she'd be rough but my god she was rough with you that first time. she barely let you move, keeping you completely pinned to the mat with one arm while the other snuck beneath your skirt.

"you don't even know how long i've been waiting for this," she whispers into your ear as her fingers push your panties to the side. she's instantly assaulting your clit in fast, tight circles, leaving you writhing beneath her, though there's not much wiggle room between your bodies.

"maeve, what if somebody sees?" you ask between quiet whines. what a suck up you were, constantly trying to gain points with the other members of the seven in hopes of gaining more power. she especially hated the way you sucked up to homelander, always grinning at him and laughing at his stupid, gross jokes with hearts in your eyes. a small part of her wanted him to see her fucking you so good.

"you'll keep taking my fingers, goody fucking two shoes," she says through gritted teeth before shoving a finger inside of you with no warning, causing your back to arch up and off of the mat. "good girl, baby."

after that night, there's less staring and imagining but more touching and doing. her hand grazes your ass when you pass each other in the hallway. she pretends to swat a fly away from your chest and ends up smacking one of your tits. it always ends with that same no-good smile.

you try your best to only end the night in maeve's room if homelander's out on a mission, but she grows impatient. you're an addiction and every little taste she gets leaves her wanting more. she especially gets handsy when you've spent a lot of unnecessary time with homelander.

"y'think he can fuck you like this?" she asks, her strap buried deep inside of you. you're sat on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around her waist and hands tangled in her hair as she relentlessly pounds into you, pushing you toward your third orgasm. you moan a "no" into her shoulder before biting down on her skin. "yeah, that's what i thought. if i see you touching him again, i swear i'll strip you naked and fuck you in front of him. now cum before i change my mind and don't let you."

she once threatened to make you wear a vibrator to one of the seven meetings after you came back from a team-up with homelander's arm around your shoulders. but, after a lot of begging and time spent on your hands and knees feverishly eating her out, maeve finally forgot about the idea. he would've probably seen it anyways.

but, one of, if not her favorite time fucking you is on a random sunday when homelander's out doing day-time talk show interviews. she drags you into the seven conference room and sits in homelander's chair at the head of the table.

"feels good, does it, baby?" you say, sitting on the edge of the table in front of her, reaching underneath your skirt and shimmying your panties off.

she sighs a sigh of accomplishment and leans her head back against the chair without taking her hungry eyes off of you. "feels fucking fantastic."

then she's rolling her chair forward, locking her arms around your thighs, and pulling your pussy toward her mouth. you lie back on the table with your legs over her shoulders and moan maeve's name as her lips enclose your clit and suck harshly. she shushes you but with her lips against your cunt, the vibrations only leave you struggling to compose yourself.

the rush of power from eating you out in homelander's chair makes her hungrier than ever and she laps you up quickly, collecting your juices on her tongue and swallowing proudly to avoid leaving behind a mess. "you taste better than ever, baby," she says, licking her lips before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss.

everything's going well until one fateful meeting when homelander's getting on your ass about some dumb little thing you said in an interview that's been twisted by fans and is now trending on twitter. he was talking to you like you were a mentally unstable infant and it was starting to piss maeve off.

"hey, cool it, homelander," she interrupts him mid-sentence as he ranted on about your "tiny pea brain." he turns his face, which was inches away from yours, toward maeve who was coolly leaned back in her chair. they had a stern staring contest for a few moments before something inside of him snapped.

"just cause y/n's slutting herself out to you doesn't mean you have to be her lesbian knight in shining armor, maeve." maeve was far better at hiding her shock than you were. "yeah i fucking knew about you two. don't think you can hide anything from me."

and that was when your secret arrangement turned into a very public one. you would be lucky to escape this situation with your life. luckily maeve would never let you go without a fight.

#queen maeve x reader #queen maeve #queen maeve x fem!reader #wlw #the boys #wlw smut #maeve #queen maeve smut #the boys x reader #the boys smut #the seven #queen maeve x you #the boys x you

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surielstea · 29 days ago

Text

Camping Affairs

Kinktober day 4: Size + Hair pulling

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.

A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶

6.9k words.

"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.

"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.

"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.

He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.

All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.

With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.

"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.

"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.

"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.

Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.

"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."

He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."

"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"

He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."

I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."

"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.

I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."

"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."

"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."

"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.

He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.

"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.

"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."

"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.

I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."

His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.

"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.

From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.

"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."

He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."

"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.

"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.

I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"

"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."

"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.

I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.

"Like a hole in my head."

I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"

He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."

"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"

He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."

His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"

I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.

"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.

"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."

I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

"If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.

"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"

Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."

"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.

From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.

"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"

Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."

He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."

"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"

"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."

"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.

"Stop that," he growls.

"I will when you answer my question."

"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."

I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.

"You still didn't answer my question."

He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."

"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."

I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."

Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."

I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."

He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."

"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."

He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."

I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"

He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."

I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."

His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."

Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"

"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.

In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.

I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."

He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."

"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.

"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."

"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."

"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."

His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.

The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.

"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.

"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.

"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.

"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."

With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.

His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.

I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.

"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.

"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.

He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.

I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.

I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.

I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.

He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.

His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.

I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.

A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.

His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.

His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.

My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.

"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"

I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.

His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.

He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.

His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.

I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.

His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."

A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.

"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.

"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.

"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.

Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.

"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.

Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."

"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."

A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."

I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.

But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.

He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.

He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."

A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.

My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.

"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.

"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his

He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.

His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.

Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"

I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.

His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.

I wanted more. I needed more.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.

His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.

I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.

"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."

He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."

With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.

Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."

I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.

He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."

I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."

His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."

He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"

I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"

With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."

Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.

And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.

I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.

I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.

The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."

I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.

Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.

Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."

Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."

"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.

"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.

Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."

I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."

He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."

My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.

Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."

A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.

I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.

"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.

The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.

I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.

I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 month ago

Text

The Villain's Protector (Part 1) - Don't Blame Me

Summary: The reader wants out from working for the CIA so they propose a deal. She acts as the captured Soldier Boy's caretaker and she's free to go in six months. Their idea of stealing Soldier Boy's supe altering powers aren't exactly for what the reader thinks though and she needs Solider Boy to escape for her own plans. But those plans go awry when the CIA unleashes a dangerous life-changing weapon and the only way for her and Soldier Boy to survive is to stick together...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, violence, torture, bombing,

A/N: This series takes place post Season 3. Please enjoy this first part and let me know what you think!

________

“Y/L/N.” You lifted an eyebrow, finding an unfamiliar older woman at the entrance to your office. Your supervisor nodded beside her and you pulled your headphones off, letting them rest around your neck. “You’re off desk duty.”

“The chatter from these guys-”

“Yeah, I know. Somebody else will handle it. As of five minutes ago, you report to her now,” said your supervisor, rattling a knuckle on the door. You were ready to argue about how you were promised desk duty to finish out these last six months but she was gone before you could blink. You grumbled as the older woman stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind her.

“I heard you want out,” she said. You leaned back in your chair, cocking your head. “Nobody ever really leaves the CIA you know.”

“What’s my handle ID?” you asked, the woman raising her chin. “I ain’t telling you jack shit until I know you’re legit.”

“Black Midnight Angel. You want to get to work now? Or you going to waste more of my time?” You narrowed your eyes, the woman giving it right back. “Work this job for six months until you leave and the agency will pay for your schooling. And I know you’re skeptical so we already wired the funds to your bank account.”

“Black ops?” you asked quietly. She shook her head, taking a seat in the chair across your desk.

“Mallory Fischer,” she said, your lips pressing into a thin line. “You know what I do then.”

“Yes, I do. Question is why do you want me on your team? There are far more qualified people.” She looked you up and down, a small smirk crossing her lips.

“You’re right. Your agent assessment scores are average aside from your intel work. Last time you were in the field you were shot-”

“Why. Me.” You knew it was coming. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You have a year of medical school under your belt.” That…was not what you were expecting. Did she not…know? Maybe not. Fine. You weren’t bringing that up if you could help it.

“I do. You should know that the reason I couldn’t finish was because the CIA recruited me, despite my desire to not join,” you said, letting it hang in the air. Mallory rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “You people fucked up my life plan you know. I’m thirty two. I’m going to be a good 5 years minimum behind my peers by the time I graduate.”

“Did I give you the impression that I give a shit?” You grumbled but kept your mouth shut. “You agreed to work here.”

“You threatened to deport my friend if I didn’t,” you growled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had an ex-boyfriend with ties to-”

“Just stop. What the fuck do you want with me?”

“I have Soldier Boy.” You laughed, Mallory dead eyed. “I’m quite serious.”

“He fucking blew up last week.” Mallory cocked her head. You sighed, running a hand over your mouth. “He fell from, what, the seventieth floor? He’s really that strong?”

“He’s damn near indestructible. If it makes you feel better, Maeve survived too. But seeing as how she hates Vought more than most, we let her slide. Pretty sure she and her girlfriend went up to-”

“So she’s free and you don’t give a fuck about what she does. Fine. But what the fuck does ‘I have Soldier Boy’ mean exactly?” you asked. Mallory eyed you up and down.

“He’s Homelanders father.” You rolled your eyes and she frowned. “Why exactly is that not surprising to you?”

“Come on,” you laughed. “The most powerful supe to exist suddenly disappears right around the time Homelander was born? They’re both the poster child for all american wonder boy. I figured he was the dad doing a book report in middle school. It’s not that complicated.”

“Then you can understand why having Homelander’s father provides us an opportunity. His power is the only weapon we have that comes close to taking Homelander out. You watch the news. Homelander is losing his shit. We need to find a way to deal-”

“You don’t need Soldier Boy’s powers to fucking catch Homelander. If you caught pops, you can catch the kid and for the record, I am not one of your fucking super agents so you want me for research, fine. But save the shooting and catching Homelander for your own people.” You scooted your chair in closer to your computer, Mallory grabbing your hand roughly when you placed it on your mouse.

“Soldier Boy didn’t have the power to knock out other supes powers until after the Russian’s tortured him. We need to understand that ability of his and what made it change.” You sighed, pulling your hand away. “Work the job and in six months you’re gone.”

“And what exactly does this job entail?”

“We need a doctor, or the next best thing, for the night shift. Twelve hour shifts. You feed him, clean him, tend to him. Most of the time he’s going to be out cold. It’s maybe an hour of real work a night. You can do whatever the fuck you want in your office when you’re taking care of him, I really don’t care. We just need him in working order, got it?”

You pushed away from your computer, lifting your chin. “And that hour where he’s not out cold? How the fuck do I go near him without dying?”

“You better not be claustrophobic.”

Two Days Later

Mallory had ditched you not five minutes after seven pm after showing you to an office in the very plain looking warehouse in upstate New York. She’d naturally failed to mention that Soldier Boy was being held at a facility outside of the city. But you weren’t about to complain, not when the commute was shorter than your original one. So there you stood, a frozen TV dinner in your backpack, a guard dressed head to toe in black combat gear with an assault rifle almost as big as you, still wondering what the hell you were meant to do.

“You guys got a break room?” you sighed, dumping the bag on the desk and pulling out your dinner.

“Two doors down on the left. Unisex bathroom is around the corner,” he said, still not revealing his face from behind his dark mask. That was fine. He was an overqualified security guard in your mind. “Mallory left a schedule and map of the building on your desk. Burn them when you’ve memorized it.”

“Yup,” you said, walking past him and heading down the hall. “So how many guards are there right now?”

“The only staff on the night shift is yourself, a dozen interior guards, and four patrolling external officers.”

“No custodial staff?” you asked, entering the bare bones room with a microwave, old fridge and a wobbly table. Wonderful.

“No. They clean during the day. The facility isn’t large enough to warrant external help.” You hummed, popping the tray out of the box and into the microwave. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Is the Novichok gas always on in the room he’s held in?” you asked. He shook his head.

“He’s kept in a cryo tube during the night. Before entering the room, we will fill the room with gas for five minutes that will allow him to waken slightly but remain harmless. You will then enter in your hazmat suit and remove him from the chamber where you will perform your duties. When you indicate you are finished, we will increase the gas until he passes out and you can place him back in the tube. When you leave the room, we will stop the gas.”

“Does he eat during the day? What about the bathroom?” He was still and you frowned. “Dude. I get that everything is need to know but I need to know basic shit about my patient.”

“You feed him according to the schedule. He has a catheter.”

“And going number two?”

“He doesn’t get solids.”

“I don’t care what kind of liquid diet he’s on, he’s still going to shit.”

“I have my job, you have yours.”

You grumbled when he left, hitting the power on for your dinner. Just what you wanted for a career. Wipe the ass of the world’s most powerful supe.

You tried to forget about that portion of your “duties” as you ate your meal. It was still going to be easier than your first rotation in med school, that was for sure. He’d just…lay there drugged out of his mind. With the small threat in the air of if your hazmat suit tore for any reason, like say an angry supe being held prisoner grabbed it and ripped the plastic which he very likely was capable of even in that state.

Easy peasy.

You were able to distract yourself for an hour by walking the halls to figure out the layout of the building. The guard had been right. It wasn’t a large building. There were a few offices and typical building facilities in the front of the building. Security was stationed in the middle and Soldier Boy’s holding cell along with a viewing room was in the back corner. What appeared to be an operating room was further down the hall but that wasn’t entirely uncalled for in a black ops prison like this. You couldn’t exactly take your wounded agents or prisoners to a normal hospital.

You ended your self-guided tour in the viewing room staring down at the dark room below. Save for the soft blue light emitting from the cryo tube. You couldn’t see much at the angle. The top of the tube was see through but all you spotted were a pair of bare feet.

“He’s not strapped down?” you asked as the door to your right opened, a guard stepping through, this one slightly shorter than the one you’d spoken to originally.

“No. You’ll need to move him around. He’s wearing a face mask providing a direct stream of Novichok gas to him. You only need to remove it when you shove a tube down his throat for feeding. I’d suggest saving that for last.”

You quirked an eyebrow up. He was a supe, sure. This was a CIA secret holding prison, sure. The treatment of prisoners didn’t exactly have to adhere to the Geneva Convention in this kind of environment.

But it felt gross treating him like a meat puppet, keeping him alive only to figure out his powers. Which made you consider something else.

“Why go through the trouble of keeping him alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drown him? Or just take his DNA and recreate the power aspect?” you asked. Unsurprisingly, the guard didn’t answer. You crossed your arms, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t much past eight and there were still a few hours until his scheduled “wake” time. “New plan.”

“New…plan?” he asked. You just knew he was rolling his eyes at you behind those thick black goggles.

“Well he’s my patient, isn’t he? I’m making a new schedule, one that’s more appropriate for the patient.”

“You can’t do that,” he said quickly, your chin raising. “He’s a prisoner.”

“I know I’m just the glorified ass wiper for this guy but the more he feels like he has someone in his corner, the more apt he is to let a secret loose. Maybe he says jack shit but maybe he tells me what the russians did so you can figure out whatever power crap you’re looking for. Got it?”

“That’s the Y/N I’d expect.” You turned around, Mallory appearing in a doorway behind you. “Dismissed, Greg.”

“Don’t play games with me,” you said when the guard left. Mallory took a few steps forward to join you at your side, peering down into the room below.

“We had to know you’d be a team player. You’re not dumb. I think you can understand why I want you to do this job, even if you don’t have your medical degree.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Am I supposed to be his doctor or his fake friend? Which is it?” you asked.

“Both. It probably won’t work, the cocky bastard’s too smart for it, but it doesn’t hurt to try every option. I’d like to think you in particular would be willing to do whatever it takes to figure out that supe destroying beam of his. Am I wrong?” You ignored her, staring through the glass to the dark room.

“You hired me to be his doctor so that’s what I’ll be. Anything more will be my choice, am I clear?”

“Fine. Now let’s get you acquainted with your patient.”

“Fine.” You turned and left the room, heading down a set of stairs. You were in a changing room that had hazmat suits and respirators, different outfits for you to choose from. Along the back was a fridge that held his food, a thick mixture that looked completely unappealing. Beside the fridge was a cart for you to bring in and out, a medical bag on top but otherwise it was bare.

You stared at the options and sighed as you picked up the gas mask on its own. For one, if he wanted to kill you, he really could, suit or no suit. But mostly you had a bad feeling in your gut, like he needed some actual human interaction. If they were barely letting him be conscious during the day, he was going to start having problems. Namely, the angry supe was only going to get angrier which meant more violent which meant way more likely he killed you.

A gentle hand might be the only way to get through these six months in one piece.

After securing your mask, you made a note of the log by the fridge, surprised to find he’d been fed roughly an hour before your shift started. Huh. Maybe they were treating him better than you’d though. With your bag in hand, you hit the button on the wall, thick metal doors opening and allowing you to step into an air lock. You hit the button behind you, sealing it off and then a large black one with a hazard symbol over it. A small light appeared red over the button for a moment before turning green. You hit the button on the far wall and another thick door opened to the dim room. A fine mist clung to the air, deadly novichok swirling all around you. You raised your arm, checking for any reaction but you weren’t expecting one. Novichok was an aerosol. You had to breathe it in to suffer any consequences which hopefully you’d never find out how that felt.

The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you alone save for Mallory observing from behind the thick glass panel above.

You set the bag down, approaching the side of the far end of the chamber and hitting a large black button. A locking mechanism released, the door swinging open and allowing you to grab the end of the pull out tray. The first thing you noticed was Soldier Boy was naked, followed by a slight warmth to the air. The tray helped but he was heavy, a solid wall of muscle you noticed as your eyes darted over his body. Every inch of him oozed strength.

Ever so gently, you moved to his side, knuckles grazing over up his leg, over his strong thigh, soldi chest. You rested your palm over his chest, a slow, steady beat thrumming away.

You didn’t falter, didn’t do anything strange as you started to check his pulse, mind wandering while you went through the motions.

Sure, you’d be his fucking doctor. Until you figured out how to get him out of there that was.

Ten minutes later you returned to the viewing room where Mallory had remained, her focus on Soldier Boy below.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about how to break him out. Why do you think I hired you?” You smirked, cocking your head.

“So you don’t want me for my medical knowledge. Shocking.”

“Fuck no, just like I know you have no desire to finish med school. Use that money for whatever the fuck you want. You do what I ask and we’ll give you ten times that and maybe we end up dealing with your little…problem along the way.”

You glanced at Soldier Boy, pursing your lips. “Why the ruse? Why not just tell me you want me to act like I’m the only one on his side?”

“Because I had to see how good an actor you are. The second I told you he can take away another supes powers…you should have seen your face. You were already in. You’ll have to be on all the time with him though. No mistakes. He’ll snap your neck if he finds out.”

Your gaze shot back to Mallory, her mouth forming a small smile. “I’m good at pretending everything is just fine. So what exactly is the plan to get him to trust me?”

“Be his friend. A few weeks from now you’ll miraculously break him out after learning about the torture he goes through during the day in our attempts to understand his powers. He’ll be leery of course but weak with the massive dose of novichok will get in him. By the time it wears off, he’ll trust that you’re a caretaker for him, likely even fall for you. And then? You prove your loyalty, shower him with that love he so desperately wants but won’t admit to. By then, he’ll blow the powers out of whoever you tell him to. He’ll be our loaded gun without even realizing.”

“That’s what you wanted all along,” you said, Mallory nodding for the two of you to leave the room, heading down a hallway. “Because if it doesn’t work, you can blame it all on me.”

“There’s a reason I wanted you on this job kid and it’s not just because that man will take one look at you and want to screw you. You will need to adapt on the fly. Use that head of yours and we’ll relay the list of supes we want him to take out and then he’ll go back in his box.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill me first.”

You were tired when you got home from work the next day around seven thirty in the morning. Mallory and security had given you an in-depth briefing of their plans. It was all very simple. Manipulate him. Make him see you as his only friend. Break him out and make him reliant on you to the point where he was doing exactly what they wanted without lifting a finger.

Except that wasn’t your plan. You’d break him out, play along to get him there but the second you had him alone, you’d tell him the truth.

And if he killed you in a fit of rage, so be it.

If he even could.

Three Weeks Later

You were grateful Mallory no longer came into work during your shifts. She wasn’t suspicious of you. Shit, she thought she had you read like an open book and you were perfectly happy to let everyone keep on thinking that. The guards left you alone unless you asked for something from them which meant you spent a lot of time either in Ben’s room, you’d taken to calling him Ben when you went in with him, or sitting in the observation room with a book.

It wasn’t hard to feign boredom when there wasn’t much to do. You desperately wanted to spend more time with Ben but it was dangerous to leave him off the gas for more than thirty minutes at a time. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call cognitively aware when you’d pull open the drawer and assess him. His eyes would flutter open weakly, a glimpse of an angry glare behind them before he’d call you a bitch and they’d shut again, his chest rising and falling deeper than when he slept.

Which meant you were in for a fun time in about forty five minutes when you were supposed to “break him free” according to the plan. You were meant to go about your usual routine with him before they’d take him away to the operating room they called it. More like commit war crimes against a prisoner.

You didn’t know exactly what they were doing to him during the day but it was bad enough that Ben was starting to show injuries. Injuries. On an all powerful supe. Nothing major. A few bruises and scratches but it meant something was up and you wanted to be done with this charade and now.

You just needed Soldier Boy to take care of Reaper, that god awful supe, and then he could do whatever the fuck he wanted for all you cared.

A faint scream in the distance made your head snap up. You heard it again and closed your book. Who the hell would be screaming in a place like this? You got up and headed down the hall, dipping your head in the observation room.

A louder scream rang out as you saw the empty cryo chamber. You ran out to the hall, bumping into a guard.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, Lance from the sounds of it.

“Where is he?” you asked, more screams heard now.

“Oh. Yeah, they kept him in the operating room longer today so he can do his ‘breakout’ with you soon. Sorry for the noise, he can get loud sometimes.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“The breakout. You’re supposed to grab him from the operating-“

“I know which room I’m supposed to fake the breakout from. Why is he screaming?” you asked. The guard blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“He always screams. I would too if they shoved nuclear waste through a needle into my eyeball.” You scrunched up one eye, the guard giving you a look like you were the weird one. “It’s the only way they get the red matter out of him…”

“If you have your fucking red matter then what the fuck are you faking a break out for,” you growled. The guard held up his hands. “I asked a question.”

“Listen. I’m only telling you this cause I like you. They needed to fake a breakout that way they can drop their red matter bomb they’ve been brewing up and wipe out Soldier Boy and let the fallout spread down to the city and kill all the supes there, including Homelander. You were…the fall guy,” he said quietly. Your eye twitched as you grabbed his assault rifle, jamming the end under his jaw. “Y/N-”

“The only reason I’ll let you live is because you warned me. Now put on your gas mask.” He hesitantly did as told, securing it before you clocked him in the back of the head.

Soldier Boy let out another pained scream and you’d had enough. You grabbed your gas mask from your office and ducked into the security office, grateful to find it empty. A large red button behind glass sat on the far end of the console.

NOVICHOK - EMERGENCY USE ONLY

“Fuckers,” you said before smashing it, jamming it with the butt of your weapon. You watched on screen as people started to panic and then came the screams in the hallways as the nerve gas tore through their nervous systems, quickly but oh so painfully killing them. You knew there’d be a few people that would see the flashing amber lights in the halls and get their masks on before they keeled over. Whatever.

You’d deal with those people easily enough.

The monitors showed most people had gone down, convulsing violently as they foamed at the mouth. The south hallway was clear and after checking your gun, you ducked back outside, slipping the sidearm from the guard you’d knocked out into the back of your jeans. Soldier Boy had stopped screaming, the halls eerily quiet. Still, you stepped carefully, amber flashes bouncing off the dull gray walls.

Past the bodies, you went down the far passage, taking a breath before opening the double doors. Blood stained the walls. Dried blood. Old, rusty, oxidized blood.

“What the fuck…” you trailed off, eyes settling on where a barely conscious Soldier Boy lay restrained on the metal table in the center of the room.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, your eyes widening briefly. He rarely spent time awake with you and the rare occasion he did he’d only ever called you curses.

“Can you fight?” you asked, unbuckling the thick leather restraint wrapped around his right wrist. He was strong, powerful. But even he couldn’t escape when they kept him gasing him all the time. He grunted, closing his eyes. “Most of them are dead but there’s stragglers to deal with.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow under your mask, removing the leather restraints over his torso and left wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. I need to get you up North,” you said, strapping the gun over your body. You helped him sit up, Soldier Boy’s body lax, littered with dark bruises. “Can you walk?”

He only stared as he slumped against your chest, face jammed against your body before mumbling, “You got great tits.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you muttered. You grasped his shoulders, forcing him upright, Soldier Boy scowling as you barely kept his heavy body steady. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he tried to growl, coming out like a petulant child instead. You rolled your eyes, scanning the room quickly. Trays of syringes littered the room, bottles of something red inside some, a cream white liquid in another. “Fuck off.”

You dropped his shoulder, grasping his jaw hard, Soldier Boy flinching slightly at the touch. You’d deal with whatever the fuck that reaction was later.

“I will leave you here to die you insolent little man-child. Cut. The. Shit. Now.” The hardness in his gaze stopped, an almost panicked expression replacing it. “Work with me here. What’d they do to you? Why are you the equivalent of a sack of potatoes?”

“They keep me gassed and stick the white stuff in my eyes. I think it’s novichok,” he said. He closed his eyes, slumping forward ever so slightly before flying them open. “It’s the only way they get the drugs in. Or out.”

“Out?” You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Later. Can you move on your own or no?”

“I’m fucked for at least a few hours. Does that answer your fucking question?” He spit out the words, his glare indicating you’d be thrown against a wall if he were capable at the moment.

“Little bastard,” you grumbled to yourself, slinging the automatic rifle across your chest. He raised an eyebrow as you sighed. “Here’s how this works. You do as I say or you can die here. Your choice.”

“Get me the hell out of this shithole,” he growled, reluctantly holding out a hand. You turned, squatting down and pulling him into a fireman’s carry. He was warm against you, two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle. “At least you ain’t a weakling.”

“Shut up. Take that handgun in my waistband and shoot anything that moves and I mean anything.” He grunted which you took as an answer. You shifted you itself. Fuck, he was heavy. Dead weight too.

He might be able to run his mouth but that was all he had going for him. He nearly dropped the gun the second he took it out of the back of your jeans. Without another word, you exited the room, fine mist filling the corridors. Quickly, you moved down the hall, Soldier Boy grunting more than once.

“Shut up,” you whispered.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, albeit more quietly. With gritted teeth, you continued forward, eyes flaring wide when you saw movement ahead. Gunfire rang out as you spun around, Soldier Boy hissing as loud shots fired off behind you. It went quiet, Ben dropping huffing against your back. “Thanks for using me as a fucking meat shield. That’s the only reason you busted me out, isn’t it?”

You dropped him straight on the ground, straddling his hips, not even a flicker of amusement on his face. You held up the gun, Soldier Boy scoffing. “What part of listening to what the fuck I say don’t you understand?”

“Leave me to die then, bitch.” You grabbed his jaw, pressing your thumb right under his eyes socket, his eyes narrowing. You pointed the gun at the inner corner, his eyes focused on the barrel.

“I need you to kill a supe for me. Reaper.”

“Reaper? That dumb fuck kid? Why the-” You pressed the hot barrel against his cheek, Ben growling.

“It doesn’t matter why I want him dead but I do. You will die if we stay here, Ben,” you said, tucking the gun back away. You sighed, checking the silent hallways once before re-focusing on him. “Lots of people hurt you. People here hurt you. But I am the only one that’s ever tried to protect you from something. So be quiet or I will leave.”

A grin crawled onto his face, a frown forming on yours. “You need me, don’t you sweetheart? Cut the tough guy act-”

You grabbed his throat, Soldier Boy’s eyes narrowing. “A bomb is going to drop killing all supes on the eastern seaboard. That’s us and you know what? Fuck it. Maybe I get lucky and this thing kills Reaper somehow and I don’t need you.”

“Dramatic are we?” he said as you stood upright. You got three steps down the hall when he slammed his fist against the cement floor. “Fine! I’ll shut up and kill Reaper for you. Now get me out.”

You smirked, wiping it off your face and hoisting him up once more. He stuck to his word, keeping his lips sealed as you made your way out, shooting one more guard at the front lobby area before you were in the parking lot.

After a quick check for trackers and bombs, you picked him up off the cold pavement, sitting him in the passenger seat of your SUV.

“My suit,” he mumbled. “Need my suit.”

“Already in my trunk. I was supposed to take break you out,” you said, closing the door.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked when you got behind the wheel, leaning over to buckle him up so he didn’t slump over.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, pulling off your mask and tossing it in the back seat. “We need to-“

You both tensed when the night sky lit up red in the distance, a towering inferno blazing up into the atmosphere from the direction of the city.

He grabbed your hand as a shockwave barreled toward you, both of you flinching as a strange feeling washed through your bones.

But you also felt a sharp familiar zap kick in and course through your arm, straight into his hand. He pulled his hand away, staring at you.

“What the fuck was that? Why the fuck aren’t we dead?” he asked, flexing his hand as best he could.

“I sort of…can’t die. I guess that bomb can’t kill me…or Reaper,” you mumbled, turning the car on and driving out of the compound. All the while you felt his drugged up stare. “I can’t control it. But good news for you, apparently you can’t die either when you’re touching me.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge that you felt all of his fear and pain when you’d somehow protected him. How afraid he was. How fucking alone he felt way, way deep down in a place even he didn’t touch until the moment of immediate death.

You slowed down, reaching over to hold his hand, ignoring the way he relaxed at the touch. Soldier Boy was out cold fast as the adrenaline wore off, his grasp on you too tight to slip out of.

You didn’t get far though, barely a few miles up the road when you saw people arguing outside a house, strange red streaks across their skin.

What the fuck did that bomb do?

Unfortunately for the two of you, you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

____________

A/N: Part 2 coming soon!

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys x reader #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfic #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy au #the boys #apocalypse au

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reidsdimples · 4 months ago

Text

Feverish- 3- Finale

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI‼️

Part 2

Spencer’s still sick, but clear headed enough to know he wants to try again with you.

A/N- this was highly requested. Kind of felt finished after the first two but I hope this concludes it well 🫶🏻

"No!" Spencer screams and thrashes in his sleep.

"Hey hey," you roll over and press a hand to his chest. He's drenched in sweat and clearly running a temperature still.

You hear him mumble an all too familiar name in his sleep, the source of most of his nightmares.

"Maeve, no.," its barely audible.

"Spence," you rub his chest again. His shirt is sticking to him so you start carefully tugging it up his body as he stirs awake. "You were having a nightmare," you whisper.

He helps you get the shirt off and pulls you onto him. You nearly protests but he's holding onto you desperately as though you might slip away.

This was night three and you had hope that tomorrow would bring him relief from this awful flu. He groaned in pain against you before a coughing fit forced him to roll over on his side, sending you back to your side of the bed.

“Hold on honey,” you try not to overthink the term of endearment that came to you naturally.

You grab the NyQuil liquid which you know he hates but give it to him anyway. It works faster than the pills.

You brush his damp hair back from his forehead and help him get adjusted in bed.

“Here,” you push a cough drop into his mouth and he scrunches his nose at the taste.

“You big baby,” you tease. He smiles weakly.

It’s three am according to the clock so you crawl back into bed. You turn on your side to see him facing you, his face in his hand as he watched you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs.

“Shh,” you shush him and wipe underneath his eyes which are watering from being sick.

“The first time I saw you, I finally understood why the sun rises every morning. I had a purpose,” he whispers and regards you with those brown eyes that melt your heart.

“Spencer,” you breathe and cup his cheek. He blinks. “I missed you too.”

The small smile that plays on his lips feels like the answer to a question you didn’t know to ask.

“Sleep my love,” you comfort him.

“Say it again,” he pleads.

“My love,” you humor him. It melts your heart, he’s so vulnerable right now. You want to just hold him and protect him.

“My love.”

He falls asleep as you gently rub his scalp.

Something stirs you awake hours later. At first you think you’re dreaming- a dirty dream about Spencer which you have more often than you should. You moan which pulls you out of sleep completely.

Your eyes dart open and the sensation you’d been feeling wasn’t in your head at all.

“Good morning, well, afternoon,” Spencer purrs. He’s planting kisses on your stomach, biting and nipping at your skin while his strong hand cups your tit.

“Aren’t you sick?” You giggle and sit up.

“I. Feel. Better.” He breaths as he kisses down to your hip bones and tightens his grip on your breast. Your nipple hardens and he pinches it through the thin tank top.

“Mmm, Spencer,” it’s meant to come off as a warning but he looks up at your through long lashes and messy hair.

“Spencer you still have a fever,” you swat at him after feeling his forehead.

“So?” He whimpers. You’re dumbfounded at the way he can feel so bad but be so horny. He always did have a high sex drive though.

He hooks his long fingers into your panties and beginnings to tug them down. Your heart flutters in anticipation.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” You reason as he begins kissing your inner thighs, discarding your underwear somewhere behind him.

“You moaned my name in your sleep. How often does that happen?” He pants against your inner thigh and then bites down. You wince.

You grab his face and drag him up your body.

“I’m serious,” you pull him into a kiss and he tastes like mint. It’s refreshing from his sick smell he’s carried for days. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, weak, but not as bad,” he answers and kisses you deeper now. You allow his tongue to flick over yours as his hand grips your hip and squeezes.

He’s pushing and grinding his hips against you. He’s still shirtless, only wearing boxers, and it drives you crazy as he invades your mouth.

“I want to give this another shot,” he pleads and kisses your neck.

“Mmmm,” you can’t speak.

“Please,” he kisses your shoulder. Then he kisses the swell of your breast, his pleading eyes locked with yours.

He nuzzles into your skin again, desperately needing your closeness before leaning to the side to cough into his arm. You look at him sympathetically.

“You need to focus more on resting, Doctor,” you scold him.

“My fever is low grade and I’m over the worst of it,” he pauses. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Right,” you play with his hair absentmindedly.

“I’m serious, it’s only 100.6,” he laughs. “Honestly though, I feel more clear headed and..” he trails off.

“And?” You cup his cheeks which smooshes his face slightly. He’s still between your legs, laying on your stomach.

“Part of me is mortified at my behavior the past few days,” he speaks slowly. “Part of me wants to,” he starts running a hand up your shirt.

“Spencer Reid, are you objectifying me?” You opt to joke because you’ve shamelessly enjoyed his unfiltered behavior.

“Do you wanna be objectified?” He kisses your stomach. Heat crawls up your face.

“Only by you,” you admit and run your thumb across his plump lips. He smiles at you, shyly but there’s relief in it.

“So is that a yes? You want to give this another shot?” He asks, beaming.

“Yes Spence,” you sigh and he crawls up your body once more to kiss you.

The kiss becomes more heated when you feel his erection pressed against your bare cunt. His boxers offer little resistance to the friction against you.

“Please, I need it,” he begs breathlessly into the crook of your neck as he rolls his hips into you. He’s pitiful whimpering and shameless begging has wetness gathering between your thighs.

You nod.

“Mhmm, I need you too,” you whisper and he latches his mouth into your shoulder. He sucks hard and you can feel him leaving a mark as he moans against you. The sensation has you bucking your hips against him, feeling his cock rubbing up between your folds.

You lose track of time for a moment, now realizing he had pulled himself free of his boxers as he bites and kisses your neck. Your moans blend together and he begins pressing his cock into you.

You pull your legs up and back and he adjusts himself so that he can enter you at exactly the correct angle that he knows drives you crazy.

And it does.

The head of his cock grazed upward towards your g-spot and you stop breathing as your walls remember how to fit around him.

“Oh god…” he shudders and plants wet desperate kisses along your jaw and chest. He pumps himself in slower, torturously slow as though he’s afraid one or both of you with shatter if he’s not careful.

“Spencer,” you whimper.

Both of you are moaning and whimpering messes as he rolls his hips, moving in and out of you. His arms shake and you can tell the sickness is getting to him.

You bring him flat onto you, and kiss him. Then you’re forcing him onto his back so that you’re on top of him. He grunts and moans as you sink all the way down in one swift movement. His eyes blow wide as he exhales.

“So good, Spence,” you roll your head back and remove your tank top. You give him the full view of your body and he grapples at you. He grips your hips, your waist, your breast, your thighs as you ride him.

You roll your hips, keeping him deep inside and his eye brows furrow. You know he’s getting close, you are too.

“I’ve missed you inside of me baby,” you mewl as you move up and down on his length.

“I miss it… ah,” his words are cut off when your walls clench around him. Your orgasm bursts through you suddenly.

You throw yourself forward and grip his hair as you continue to move your hips and ride out your orgasm against him. His head is forced back as you pull his hair, giving you perfect access to his throat.

You continue to ride him as you kiss and lick at him hungrily. You let him hear every moan and whimper of pleasure until he tenses below you.

“Finish in me baby, it’s fine,” you plead.

When he cums, he does so loudly. You latch your mouth over his and absorb the moans as he shoots ribbons of hot cum into you. His chest and face are now coated in a thin layer of sweat but he kisses you passionately.

You pull back from the kiss and look at him. He regards you with the most content expression, a small grin tugging at the side of his lips. You pull yourself off of him and lay beside him so you’re half sprawled on his chest.

“I never stopped loving you,” he speaks softly as his long fingers play in your hair.

“Neither did I,” you admit and kiss his chest.

Never in a million years could you have guessed that you’d get a second chance with the love of your life because of a flu.

“Hey Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“No more sex until you’ve been fever free for 24 hours. Now take some of that medicine,” you sit up and point to it on the table closest to him.

He lets out a breathy laugh but does as he’s told.

#spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid ai #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x gf!reader

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de4dlyniightshade · 9 months ago

Note

Maeve i had a little idea in my head that i wanted to share w you x

You and Spencer cuddling and he gets all needy and needs to put his dick in you but you don't feel like doing it so instead you compromise on cockwarming. He gets on top of you while doing it and you continue to caress his head and back (i'm torturing myself w these thoughts help)

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: cockwarming, needy!spence, subby spence, morning shenanigans, spencer being a little bit feral and forgetting how big(😏)he is, grinding/dry humping, reader mentioned to be smaller than spencer but can be taken as just height wise.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

A/N: i always forget that blurbs aren't supposed to be perfect but i also feel bad putting out mediocre stuff😔

spencer felt bad for being so needy so early in the morning but the dream he woke up from had him throbbing in his pants and he just couldn't help but wrap his arm around your waist and press himself into your back, his hard length slotting perfectly between your ass.

he gently rolled his hips into your plush ass, placing soft kisses on your shoulder as he did, breathy moans and whimpers slipping past his lips as he shallowly rutted into you.

"spence, if you're trying not to wake me you're doing a really shit job" you laughed sleepily, lifting your hand to hold the back of his head as he rested his forehead on the nape of your neck, still gently grinding into you.

"n-need you" he breathed, his hips snapping into you as he let out a shaky whimper, nuzzling his face into you.

"it's 6 in the morning, spencer" you sighed, halfheartedly trying to move away from him but with no real intention of making him stop.

"please..." he whined, grinding particularly hard into you and squeezing your waist, "j-just- wanna feel you" he breathed against your neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss there, followed by another and another.

you let out a fake sigh, rolling onto your back and turning to face him, the small amount of sunlight peeking through the curtains illuminating his face just enough for you to see the needy expression on his features, his pleading eyes looking down at you.

"alright alright" you you mumbled, shaking your head as you lifted your hips off the bed, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down your legs, dropping them on the floor as spencer quickly moved between your parted thighs, pulling the front of his plaid pyjama pants down just enough to free his length.

"slow down there, mister" you giggled breathily, pressing your hand to his chest to stop him as he tried to surge forward, desperate to bury his cock in you but your hand on his chest didn't stop him from gripping your hips and tugging you down the bed, quickly moving to hold the base of his length and guide his tip to your entrance, pushing in all at once.

spencer choked out a moan as you gasped loudly, the stinging of him stretching you out without any prepping making your thighs clamp around his waist, your eyes screwing shut as the dull throbbing wracked your body.

"spence!" you scolded as your walls clenched and spasmed around him, desperately trying to adjust to the abrupt stretch.

"s-sorry, 'm sorry" he whined, dropping his forehead to your chest as he breathed heavily, his hands squeezing your waist to keep himself composed, his larger frame doubled over on top of you reminding you that he wasn't as small as you made him feel and he could actually overpower you whenever he wanted.

"j-just feel s-so good- d-did't mean to h-hurt you" he whimpered against your skin, his voice strained as your walls surrounded him, constricting his sensitive cock so nicely.

"i know, i know, j-just lay down, careful" you instructed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, spencer slowly and carefully, like you'd told him, lay down on top of you, resting his cheek on your breasts as you hissed slightly at the feeling of his cock shifting in you.

you let out a quiet sigh as the dull pain subsided and all that was left was the feeling of him filling you so nicely, your walls wrapped tightly around his length, his tip brushing cervix and you couldn't help but let out a breathy whine as you let your fingers comb through his hair and stroke down his back.

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holly-the-trash-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Guilt

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

Part 2

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: This has been a WIP for years! It was apart of a series with my own OC but I decided to change it to a Reader fic. The amount of WIPs I have is ridiculous!!!!!

Spencer sat at Y/n's hospital bed in silence. Tears were continuously streaming down his face, his breaths were shaky and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unmoving face.

There was a tube coming out of your mouth to help your breathing. So many different wires were coming out of your body and attached to multiple beeping machines.

He was holding your right hand in both of his, your skin wasn’t freezing cold but it was colder than he prefers it to be.

You had only came out of surgery half an hour ago but they won’t know if it was successful until you wake up. Which could be between the next few seconds and never.

Never was something Spencer was trying his hardest not to think about.

There was so much he needed to tell you. So many things he had to say.

The last time you were together you had fought. You told him that he’s been speaking to Maeve too much and that he's been ignoring you. Spending more time with this woman.

Spencer had told you that you were being ridiculous and then you had to go on a case and Spencer never got the chance to talk anymore about it.

You had been furious at him and now Spencer was angry at himself as well.

He had called you ridiculous for coming to him about your feelings. This resulted in you refusing to be his partner in the field. Which led to you going with Morgan. Which ended in you getting shot.

This is when Spencer’s brain began connecting things that didn’t match up.

If he had listened to you he could’ve gotten you out of harm’s way.

Not speaking to Maeve meant you wouldn’t have fought and you never would’ve been shot.

He was supposed to protect you.

It should be him lying there. Not his sweet girl.

There was a knock on the door and Spencer barely reacted as Garcia and Emily came in.

“Hey, how is she doin’?” Emily asked softly.

Spencer turned his head a little towards them, “She... uh.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before trying again, “They said everything went well but we won’t know the damage until she wakes up.”

Garcia's eyes watered as she stared at your body. “When will she wake up?”

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, a sad smile forming as he squeezed your hand, “When she’s ready.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see that it was Maeve.

Again.

Along with the twenty missed calls from Maeve.

He rubbed his eyes before pressing answer, “Spencer Reid.”

“Oh my God. Spencer, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you alright?”

This statement didn’t sit well in his stomach.

If you miss an appointment with your doctor, they don’t leave twenty missed calls on your phone.

They wait for you to reschedule.

He glanced at the other two women who were trying their best not to listen in. Although Garcia was looking particularly peeved about something.

Then he glanced down at you and any words he was going to say to Maeve turned to ash in his mouth. He felt sick.

Now he understood what you meant.

“Now, isn’t a good time. I’ll call you next week.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, “Was... was that her?”

“Who?” Spencer’s brain wasn’t even functioning at 20%. He couldn’t think things through clearly.

“Doctor Maeve.” Garcia mocked.

Spencer frowned, “Yes. Why?”

Emily gave Penelope a pointed look.

A look that did not go unnoticed by Spencer, “What? What is it?”

Emily put her hands up in a calming gesture, as if trying to approach a cornered animal. “Spencer. You must understand, we don’t mean to pry but Y/n spoke to Morgan and he didn’t know what to do so he told Garcia, who told me.”

Spencer rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes, he did not have the energy for this, “Told you what? What are you talking about?” Spencer was getting agitated now. Why can’t they just tell him? He hated not getting to the point.

“Well, Y/n came to Morgan two weeks ago and was quite upset.”

Spencer frowned as he looked at you again. Two weeks ago? You didn’t seem upset two weeks ago.

“She had some concerns about this doctor that you’ve been speaking to.” Emily explained.

Garcia huffed, “She told Derek that she had suspicions that you were cheating on her.” She spoke with daggers in her eyes.

Spencer froze.

What?!

He stiffened in his seat as he stared at his unconscious fiancé in shock.

You thought he was cheating on you?

You might never wake up again and your last thoughts of him would be the fight and thoughts of his, supposed, adultery.

How?! How could you think that he could even look at anyone that wasn’t you?

“I. Would. Never.” He punctuated every damn word so they got his point, trying to blink away the fresh batch of tears that filled his eyes.

“She planned to stay with Morgan and Savannah for a couple of days-" Garcia told him.

Spencer tore his eyes away from the bed to gawk at Garcia, “She what?”

Emily placed her hand on Garcia’s arm and spoke next, “Yesterday, Derek had... overheard one of your conversations with the doctor and he spoke to Y/n about it. So, she decided she would go and stay with him for a few days to sort out her head before coming to you about it.”

Spencer was furious. Not only did you think he was cheating on you, half of the team now suspected him of it too and no one even had the decency to ask him. And what was this phone call that was so damning that Derek had to run and tell his fiancé? Why didn’t Derek just ask him instead of almost ruining his relationship without him even knowing about it!

Spencer was shaking with rage. He stood abruptly from his chair and turned to the girls, pointing to Y/n’s bed he ordered out, “Stay with her.” before he stormed outside to head to the waiting room.

He saw red. He couldn’t think of anything except for the anger he felt.

Quickly turning the corner he saw the rest of the team sitting and talking as if nothing was wrong.

J.J noticed him first and stood up, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan following suit.

“Spence, any news?” she asked gently.

Spencer didn’t even hear her; never slowed his pace either. As soon as Morgan was within arm’s reach he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and swung as hard as he could.

His fist made connection with Morgan’s cheek and from the shock of Spencer’s actions it knocked Morgan off kilter. Morgan stumbled and placed his hand to his cheek.

The punch clearly did more harm to Spencer than Morgan, but he didn’t care. The pain in his hand was welcomed. It cut through the hurt that was clutched around his heart.

The others cried out in shock as they tried to digest what just happened.

“What the hell, kid?!” Morgan yelled at him.

“’What the hell’ is right!” Spencer growled back as he stepped up to the other man and pushed his shoulders, “Sneaking behind my back? Telling my fiancé that I had some secret affair because of some phone call you didn’t hear the entirety of!”

Spencer was seething, the rest of the team gaping at him never having seen him so furious before, “You could’ve just asked! But no, the whole team had to get involved. And now I hear she was planning on living with you for a few days?!” Spencer clenched his possibly broken fist again. “She’s in a coma and may never wake up again and her last thoughts of me will be the thought that I was getting with someone else.”

Spencer inhaled sharply as his rage at Morgan turned to rage at himself.

“Spencer!” J.J shouted, “Stop!”

His sharp inhales quickly turned to hyperventilation, his brain was in overdrive, a million thoughts and memories were spinning around his head and he just wanted it to stop.

So he stopped it the only way he knew how.

Instead of hitting Morgan, Spencer turned at the last second and hit the wall.

He fell to his knees and cried as he hit the wall again and again and again and again.

Blood smeared across the white wall as he broke the skin on the knuckles. The physical pain overrode his senses and he chased the feeling.

That was until Hotch grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall causing Spencer to lose his balance and fall back into Hotch's arms which quickly locked around him.

“Stop! Get off of me! Hotch, let go!” Spencer squirmed as he tried to fight against his boss. His back was pressed tightly against Hotch’s chest, his legs bent in front of him and he kept slapping at Hotch’s arms to let go.

Hotch just shushed him and held him tighter. Completely understanding his anger. He’s been there and the best thing for Spencer is to calm down enough so he can go back and sit with Y/n instead of giving in to his anger and doing something else that he will regret.

Once Spencer figured out that he wasn’t going anywhere the fight drained out of him and he stopped slapping at the arms circled around him.

While Spencer was hunched over Hotch gave the rest of the team a nod to clear the area and give the two some space.

Hotch pulled one Spencer’s shoulders to shift his position so that Spencer curled into his chest.

Once Hotch placed a comforting hand over Spencer’s head a sob broke past his lips and the entire dam broke. Spencer cried his heart out.

He could barely breathe, inhaling only made him choke on his sobs and made him feel worse.

“What if I never get to speak to her again?” he whispered between sobs. “Never get to tell her that she’s the only one for me.”

“Spencer you need to breathe.” Hotch told him gently, “You need to calm down. Breathe with me.”

Spencer felt Hotch’s chest rising and falling against him. He closed his eyes and tried to follow his boss’ actions.

After a moment, Spencer was finally able to take a deep breath. The oxygen flooded his brain and the fog cleared. His entire body shivered before he came to his senses.

Blinking hard he realised he was curled into Hotch’s chest, cocooned in his arms.

He shouldn’t be here.

He was sitting on the hospital floor instead of in with Y/n. He slowly sat up and Hotch let his arms fall from around him.

“You alright?”

Spencer wiped his left hand over his face, “Fine. Fine. Yeah. I need to uh, I need to go to Y/n.”

He put his right hand behind him to support his weight, but an agonising pain shot through his hand and he fell onto his elbow with a grunt.

“Here, let me see.” Hotch knelt over him and held out his hand.

Spencer shook his head and used his other hand to support his weight as he got off the floor, dusting himself off as best he could, “I’m fine.” He held his right arm close to him as he stood up straight.

He looked around and noticed that J.J, Rossi and Morgan are nowhere to be seen… which is probably for the best.

The shame of what he’s done washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He just punched his best friend in front of his team then proceeded to have a break down in his boss’ arms.

“Spencer.” Hotch called out. “You’re not fine, let me see your hand.”

Spencer shook his head and walked out of the waiting room without saying anything.

Stopping just outside Y/n’s room he looked in the window, you hadn’t moved a muscle.

Emily was sat by your bedside holding your hand.

The pain of the possibility of losing her was too much for him. His only relief was the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes were already puffy and sore, and he felt dehydrated. He sighed as he raised his left hand to wipe the tears away, cursing himself for his behaviour.

“Spencer.” Hotch stood at his side, “You need to get your hand looked at, and I’m sure the nurse wouldn’t mind doing it by Y/n’s bedside.” He knew Spencer probably doesn’t want his hand looked at for at least three reasons; he doesn’t want to leave Y/n’s side for much longer, he feels embarrassed or shameful or he feels the need to punish himself.

He agreed as long as he can stay beside Y/n, “Okay.” He opened the door and the bleeps of the machine’s filled his ears.

That was your heartbeat.

He lowered himself into the chair at your right side and raised his left hand to hold hers. His right hand was tucked into his chest. The throbbing was excruciating but he welcomed it.

He pointedly avoided Emily’s worried expression before she smiled at him and left the room without word.

A nurse came bustling into the room a few moments later with a tray of equipment, clearly fetched by Hotch. She stood next to him and Spencer raised his hand to let her do what she needed to do. Hissing as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles.

The nurse didn’t mind his silence and talked calmly to him as she worked, “You did quite the number on your hand.” She wiped away the blood and inspected his fingers, “You’ve definitely broken a few knuckles, I’m going to wrap your fingers in a splint and then bandage you up, okay?”

Spencer nodded, “Okay.” He said quietly.

She taped his middle and ring finger together and then bandaged his entire hand down to his wrist. “Now, keep this on for the next two weeks and then come back in so we can give you an x-ray and review the damage.”

Spencer nodded, “Thank you.”

The nurse left and Spencer was alone with Y/n once more. He stared at his right hand that was now resting on the bed.

How could he do this? Throw a tantrum while the love of his life lies in bed fighting for her life.

He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bed.

“Hi.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hasn’t been this nervous to talk to you since you first met. “You always told me that I needed to talk more, but I- I have no words for what I’ve done. I’ve done something terrible. Actually, I’ve done a few terrible things.” The tears formed once more, and his head pounded from the pressure. “I may never get the chance to say this to you but I am so, so, sorry. I made you feel that you weren’t special to me anymore, that I don’t love you which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

Spencer played with a strand of your hair that was laying on your shoulder.

“How could I ever be with someone else? No one could ever, ever take your place in my heart.”

He gently lifted your hand in both of his, his head felt heavy, so he bent over and placed his forehead on the back of her hand. “I love you more than anything in this world. When you wake up I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you. And I know you wouldn’t want to miss that. So, please wake up. Please.”

He had been talking when it happened so he never heard it.

You weren’t breathing in the same rhythm as before.

When he finally noticed, he frowned as he looked you over. He slowly got to his feet as he scanned the machines. Right before his eyes some of the numbers began to climb as others started to fall.

Spencer scrambled past the chair and ripped open the door to your room, “Doctor! I need a doctor here now!” He yelled out before running back to your side, “Y/n, sweetheart if you can hear me; don’t give up. Please.”

Two doctors and a nurse sprinted into the room.

“Sir, sir!” The nurse grabbed Spencer’s shoulder, “We need you to leave.”

Spencer shook his head frantically, trying to keep up with everything that the doctors were saying to each other, “I can’t.” he whispered to himself.

“Sir! Please!” The nurse pushed at Spencer’s shoulders until he was outside the room and the door was shut in his face.

The rest of the team had heard the commotion and had run to the room as well.

Rossi placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as the entire team watched the doctors place paddles on your chest and shock you.

Again.

And again.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

4K notes · View notes

oddeira · 3 months ago

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attention | starlight, homelander

starlight x super!reader x homelander

starlight debuts her new super suit during a meeting with the seven. only it's hard to focus on business when she's playing a little game she likes to call temptation.

note: first fic for the boys. not yet proofread sorry for typos. written so late at night lol. enjoy!! love <3 masterlist

warnings: teasing, stripping, oral, penetration, assplay, fingering, masterbation, dirty talk, homelander and his mouth.

3.1k words

Homelander paced back and forth. How his legs weren't aching in the slightest after two hours of this baffled you. Well, it would have, if you weren’t too busy sneaking glances at Starlight.

This was the first time you had seen her for a short while. It’s funny, really, how only after a few days your brain demanded she occupy every thought, every moment of solitude.

It was curiosity. That’s what you allowed yourself to believe, at least.

You blame her occupation on your mind on the first time you met her. She carried herself like a lost little mouse, scared to squeak, scared to draw any attention to herself. But she had it. Ample attention, from all corners of the room.

Deep, Maeve, even Noir all wanted to peel back the layers. See what made her so special to be the newest addition to The Seven. But you? Well, it was a different kind of layer you wanted to pull off her.

The little white suit, like something a devoted mother makes her child for Trick or Treating. A deeply religious mother at that. The sleeves, the layers of fabric. Imagining what could be underneath it was a workout in itself, let alone the kind you wanted to rope her into.

But today, now, in her seat opposite yours at the meeting table of The mighty Seven, was something else.

Those toned legs nearly didn’t end, and you watched her cross, uncross, stretch out and fiddle with them under the table for too long. Did she know you could see her panties when she wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position? Did she know you were watching?

Too many times she unhooked her leg over her knee, spreading those thighs just a little too wide. Who would ever take little miss church girl for a red thong kind of girl?

She spread her legs again and you caught sight of another flash of red. Teeth painfully pressed against your lip, you glanced away, back at Homelander’s impatient strides.

Being so obvious was trouble. Nevermind if she caught you looking, or any of The Seven for that matter. They were all pent up perverts who were all doing the same. Even Maeve, who squeezed her thighs too many times to not be doing exactly the same as what you were doing.

But Forget them. The real issue was Homelander. If he caught sight, no, if he caught a line of the dirty thoughts flooding your mind…

Your head swayed side to side. Every step he took, you watched like a hawk. Back and forth, back and forth, just like Starlight’s swinging boot. Even when you were good, minding your business like a saint, she always seemed to find a way to knock through your defences and place herself at the centre of your universe again.

This time, your head followed the swinging of her boot. Back and forth, back and forth…

“Starlight,” Homelander said, nearly exasperated “What do I even do with you,” he muttered almost under his breath, but it wouldn’t be Homelander if he hid his feelings. “Everyone’s too busy for you this week. Everyone except Heatwave. Why don’t you girls get to know each other a little bit, huh? Bonding, chit chats, just what all women can’t get e-fucking-nough of.”

Starlight leant forward, elbows on the desk, as if she was excited. Only her shoulders drew in like she was frightened, or at least a little nervous.

She met your gaze across the table. Your face was stone, until she offered a small, polite smile and turned her attention back to Homelander. She nodded along to the next topic of nonsense he rambled on about yet again, but you didn’t miss the way she lowered her shoulders and squeezed them towards her chest.

Metal. You licked at your broken bottom lip, trying desperately to steady your heartbeat. Homelander wouldn’t miss it if it carried on thumping against your ribcage, but how could you help it when you could think of was Starlights breasts heaving over the curve of her suit.

She released her shoulders. They no longer bracketed her chest, and you could no longer see her enlarged tits.

You should be relieved, happy even, now that your heartbeat was recovering. Although you couldn’t shake the aching disappointment of having to return to imagination to see what was under that new little super suit.

And super it was.

“Heatwave?”

You glanced at Homelander, suddenly aware of just how many eyes were on you.

“Yes, Homelander?” You said as monotonously as you could manage.

“When you have a moment, because I know your time is so precious,” he added quickly, the corners of his smile stretching nearly too tightly across his cheeks. “Can you get up and leave the fucking room?” He lurched forward, hips thumping against the surface of his spot at the end of the table. The vein on the side of his neck swollen so quickly, as if a bloated worm had somehow nuzzled a path under his skin.

Had Starlight seen this side of him yet? She must have. Innocent church girls didn’t suddenly trade in their layers for skin without reason, did they? The urge to check her legs were still deliciously on full display nearly convinced you to turn away from Homelander. Nearly.

You stared at Homelander silently. Scream as loud as he liked, you knew better than to get up.

He blew out a sharp flush of air through his nostrils, eyes squeezed shut. “That fucking heartbeat,” he mumbled, pressing a gloved finger to his temple. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “You know what, everyone,” his cheeks were porcelain once more and that worm had freed itself. “Let’s leave it there for today. Good job, everyone. Except you, Deep, I can see your hard-on, let alone hear the things you want to do to Heatwave. I mean, really vivid,” he grimaced.

Deep scrambled out of the room first, and before you could leave with Noir, Homelander called out once again.

“Heatwave, Starlight, why don’t you both come with me?” A fool would think he’d asked, but a thinly veiled demand was the reality.

He led you both through the halls of the top floor of Vought Tower. Starlight followed him first. Did you let her or did she slam her boot in front of you before you had a chance? Whichever it was, you couldn’t feel more gratitude as you followed behind, mesmerised by the sway of her hips and the tightness of her dress.

Her boots struck the floor like a supermodel on a catwalk, the little mouse act long forgotten.

The strides she took grew longer, and you wondered if she knew the hem of her dress was hiking dangerously close to the curve of her ass. It’s not like you had to wonder where the top of her leg ended, either. Her dress, like a second skin, sinfully fed you that secret.

It was right there. So close you could almost reach right out and feel it for yourself. A wandering hand nearly left your sides, but you held it back when you heard the elevator ding.

“Ladies,” Homelander courteously gestured you both inside.

You settled in the elevator and watched as Homelander fingered level 1 on the panel of buttons. The lobby. Where was he taking you? Out of Vought Tower, or else why would he take you to the lobby?

The elevated buckled, the three of you jerking a foot out to catch yourselves. The whirring of the light bulb up above occupied your mind in a bid to escape the bubbling dread in your stomach.

Homelander stretched out a hand and slapped the emergency stop button.

You spared Starlight a glance. Her brows were knitted together just like yours, and you both turned to face Homelander.

He slowly

“Starlight,” Homelander said, smoothing a hand over her loose curls. She nearly leaned into his touch, but she had enough sense to wait for the penny to drop. “Take off your dress.”

Starlight blinked. “What? How could you ask me to-“

Homelander’s grin flattened into a tight-lipped frown. “Shut your fucking mouth.” She did. “I know what game you’re playing, girls,” Homelander seethed. “In my own meeting, for our greater good, you’re serving yourself up on a plate like a whore,” he shot at Starlight, his neck twisting to you right after. “And you, you pathetic slut, are wetting your panties for it.”

Was it shame? Embarrassment at getting caught out? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be because you were already sweating at the thought of what your punishment was about to be.

“Heatwave, turn around and face Starlight.” On your heels you slowly spun around, swallowing the lump in your throat when you found Starlight’s head held high.

Taking it like a champ. Like a good girl. A good, innocent girl.

Homelander all but pressed himself against your back. He lent in, chin hanging over your shoulder. “Watch,” he said. “As she shows you exactly what you’ve been dying for.”

Starlight’s jaw clenched.

“Off,” Homelander said finally.

Starlight, locked in a silent competition with Homelander’s unrelenting gaze, unclenched her jaw. She turned to you. Those hard eyes now heavy lidded, fluttering up at you mischievously.

Her manicured hands slowly trailed from the sides of her legs, up over the curve of her hips, dragging her long nails over her ribs. They slowly disappeared behind her back. She stared at you for a long moment. Would she ever put you out of your misery? Oh, the suffering she inflicted, even with Homelander’s watchful eyes ready to flash red any second.

Zip.

The muscles in her arms flexed as she dragged it down her back. She brought her arms back to her ribs, pinching at the thin layer of fabric concealing them. She pulled it down.

Finally you were once more graced with the curve of her breasts. Only this time, you found the red bra that secured them in place. Oh, to tear it from her skin! Would they bounce in their freedom? Would they sit still, like the good girl they belonged to?

Starlight dragged the dress down to her hips, yanked the fabric over them with force. She released it. You followed it down its endless journey from her thighs to her ankles. To lay where her dress sat, looking up at where it once held her. Would her tits look bigger from down there? Could you see the curve of her ass?

“Man,” Homelander, was he enthralled like you, or was he revelling in your suffering. “This must be killing you, to watch but not touch.”

No fucking shit.

The heat in your chest raged. Her innocent eyes, big and round, locked on yours, but that little pull at the corner of her lips. She was enjoying this. Enjoying your pain.

Was she enjoying Homelander too?

“Take it off, Starlight,” he said. “Let her see what she’s been begging for.” Starlight reached behind her back to her bra strap, unhooking the clasp, but not before Homelander whispered, “Let’s see if all those thoughts you’ve been filling my head with were right.”

The bra fell to the floor.

Her tits, out in the open, all for you. Homelander might have been watching, but her eyes were fixed on you.

“Starlight, why don’t you take off those- oh!” Homelander gasped as she slowly gravitated towards you.

She reached down and delicately took ahold of your hands. Slowly, she lifted them up, ghosting over her abdomen, her ribs, until she finally set them on her chest.

Her eyes met yours.

“Is this what you wanted?” She asked, words like velvet in your ear, leaning close to the other side of your head, away from Homelander. “To feel my tits, all in your hands, like they belong to you.”

Homelander’s superhearing drew out a low hum from his chest, and he stepped away from you until his back met the elevator wall.

Starlight ignored him. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll let you play with them.”

Your hands slowly grasped her breasts, squeezing them once, twice, that fire in your chest dropped to between your thighs.

Your hand shot up to her throat. She gasped in surprise, head forcefully tilted up. The corners of your lips slowly spread into a grin, as you squeezed her throat just enough to draw out a whimper.

“Let me?” You repeated, tilting your head. “This is what you’ve been asking me to do this whole time. That little dress, those red panties… no, I’m the one letting you have what you want.”

You ignored the zipper behind you, and the heavy panting from Homelander.

Starlight gazed up at you, lips parted. You meant closer, a line of spit falling from your lips, faking between hers. She pushed the spit towards the front of her lips, nearly letting it spill down her chin, before sucking it back in and swallowing.

“Good girl.”

She whimpered again, just like she did when your wandering hand met the wet patch of her panties.

“Oh,” you gasped. “This wet already? No…” you pouted, nearly sympathetic. “No, this must’ve been from the meeting too, right Starlight? I know your little pussy was wet that whole time you were teasing me.”

“Mhph,” she cried under your chokehold as you brushed a finger over her sodden panties.

Hooking a finger around the red lace, you barely had to yank it down to rip them from her. Super strength had its moments, even if you didn’t sign up for it. Starlight gasped, hips fitting towards the flat palm you pressed against her core.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted. “You didn’t think I was going to be that nice, did you?”

Starlight’s brow furrowed. Then they shot up to her hairline when you spun her around and folder her over. Ass up in the air, you ghosted your hands over the fatty flesh.

“How did you manage to hide all this under there?” You asked, spreading your hands over her squishy cheeks. She moaned at the nails your dragged into her skin, then yelped as you crashed your palms down against her ass.

“Fuck!” She cried.

You bent down to your knees, settling under her bare pussy. Not just wet but dripping. Like a teardrop running down a cheek, it dripped out of her pink slit down the top of her thigh. The flat surface of your tongue pressed against Starlight’s soft skin, dragging up her thigh until you reached the end of the trail.

“Ah!” Little mouse squeaked as your tongue lapped at her soaked wet hole. “Oh my goodness,” she drawled out, a hand finding your hair.

Even with a tongue in her pussy, she still couldn’t manage to cuss. Such a good girl.

You set yourself back onto the floor, back against the elevator wall. You yanked her hips towards your face, licking a stripe up her pussy. She gasped and then cried out as you probed her with a finger. It was soaked the very first time you pulled it back out.

You added a second digit to her sopping wet heat, then attached your eager tongue to her pink clit. Her hips jerked into your touch, her wet juices spreading over your face and you accepted it. Rubbed your face all up in her pussy to get your whole face covered in her pussy juice, like it was an age-rewinding moisturiser.

If licking and finger fucking her pussy was loud, then Homelander’s wet fist fucking took the cake. He groaned and pumped himself at the free show, gasping over and over at the sound of your fingers stretching out Starlight’s tiny little hole.

“Oh, yeah… yes!” he grunted. “Finger her asshole, too.”

You did as told, but not because he ordered it. You really wanted to see how tight that pretty little asshole was. Your free hand unwrapped Starlight’s tensed thigh, one finger dipping into her pussy for lubrication. You pulled it out and circled it around the tight ring of her ass.

“Be a good girl for me, baby.”

“Yes, oh I’ll be so good for you,”

You sucked on her clit, a reward for her obedience, and plunged your finger into that forbidden little hole of hers.

Starlight’s jaw nearly unhinged. She nearly bounced back onto your digit. Desperately she rocked her hips—no, fuck that, she violently humped your face, taking it in her pussy and her ass like a pornstar.

“Oh, oh, oh I’m so close,” she warned.

“That’s fucking right,” Homelander grunted, pumping so hard he was sure to have uneven biceps by now. “That’s right, Starlight, good fucking Starlight.”

She ground her pussy over your face, and with both hands and your tongue occupied, you used the only thing left you had. Your voice. You hummed against her clit, and suddenly her hands shot to your hair, tugging at and nearly tearing out your hair as she crashed into her orgasm.

“I’m cumming!” She cried out. “Oh God, I’m fucking cumming!”

Homelander’s heavy footsteps charged over, a hot liquid shooting onto your face just as Starlight’s pussy coated your fingers with white cream.

“Nggh,” Homelander grunted, pumping the last droplets of cum onto your chin. “Ahh,” he sighed out, rubbing the tip of his cock over your wet lips, and then returned to the panel on the wall.

He pressed the emergency button again and the elevator slowly dropped down the building.

Starlight glanced down at you. Lust-blown pupils hidden behind heavy eyelids, as she nearly fell down onto you.

You grasped her hips, holding her up and settling her against the wall.

Homelander glanced over. “Get yourselves together, Jesus, it’s like a fucking cum grenade just exploded.” He said, disgust taking its rightful place back in his arrogant throat.

You quickly pulled up Starlight’s dress, hiding her heaving tits underneath the fabric. The bra stuffed into the chest of your own super suit just for now, and the panties you wiped over your cum covered face. Those also went into your suit, to cover up the evidence, sure, but really you wanted to keep hold of them.

Starlight, slowing her breathing down, rolled back her shoulders, calm and confident as if nothing had happened. That didn't sit right with you, and so you leaned in, just close enough for her to feel your breath on her neck.

"What would the lord think of you cussing his name when you cum?"

Starlight snapped her wide eyes over to you, just as Homelander snickered, and the elevator doors slid open.

#the boys #starlight x reader #homelander x reader #the boys x reader #the boys smut #starlight #homelander #antony stare #antony starr x reader #erin moriarty #erin moriarty x reader #smut #homelander x reader smut

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 5 months ago

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All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed Pt. 3 finale

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, Homelander being a stalker, innocent reader, naive reader, Homelander being a basic menace, some uncomfortable parts, dubcon, secrets, manipulation, grooming (feel like that's what Homelander is doing), age gap, power imbalance, series finale, definite angst, no real comfort 😅

Words: 3609

Summary: Your world comes crashing down all around you.

Part 1 Part 2

Starlight recoils when she reads the headlines a few days after she paid a visit to the Boys.

She doesn't want to read the rest of the article, but her thumb resists the signals her brain is desperately throwing at it. A picture dated three days ago had her sagging to the mattress of her hotel room.

You were decked in the obnoxious Vought produced supe outfit. While not being an exact copy of Homelander's, it still bore his signature colors in some way. You're standing proudly next to Homelander who has a possessive hand hovering near your waist.

There's a loss she feels that she can't quite place. Starlight felt like she failed to protect you in some way. She should have told you soon after her discovery, but Stillwell held other plans for her. Transferred to another district to collaborate with a fellow supe that was under Vought contract.

Immediately Starlight wonders if being sent away at that moment was on purpose. There was too much for it to be a mere coincidence.

Which only meant that Ashley and possibly Stillwell were aware of the truth behind you and Homelander.

This really did go all the way to the top.

How on earth was she going to help you now? You were getting too entangled with not just Homelander, but Vought as well. The closer you got to Homelander, the tighter Vought's grip was on you. And that meant the more difficult it would be to get you out. You were being groomed, that much was certain to Starlight as she tries to formulate a new plan.

All she could think of now was her actions harming you. Now that you were in love with Homelander, you might resist the truth.

On cue, a ring rips through her anxious self musings. Hughie to save the day.

"This whole situation is fucked, Hughie." Starlight spits out the second she answers.

"I know." Hughie hurriedly acknowledges. "Do you think Homelander is aware that. . . t-that's his sister?"

That's another pointed question that Annie was stumped on. She couldn't offer him an answer. Positive of one thing though, Annie grabs her belongings while pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder. There was no use in just sitting there and wondering.

She'd get the answers herself. Returning to Vought Tower immediately was her one good option.

Hughie reminds her to be careful, that Homelander was volatile and most likely wouldn't hesitating in bashing her head in.

From the outside of the sky piercing building, everything appeared to be business as usual. Even on the first floor nothing felt off to Starlight. She was greeted with friendly 'hellos' by employees left to right.

Once the elevator dings and stops at Floor 99, Starlight nearly leapt out of the lift the moment the doors parted. In her haste she accidentally bumps into Maeve.

"Whoa, slow down there." Maeve eyes her up and down with suspicion.

"Is it true that Homelander and (y/n) are dating now?" Starlight quietly hisses, trying to pull the one other female supe aside to a more secluded corridor.

"Starlight I know its weird but (y/n) is an adult and-"

Inwardly Starlight's skin crawls at the idea that Maeve was okay with the obvious power imbalance between Homelander and his new unfortunate paramour. For a hot second, she debates whether or not to tell Maeve the truth. Would she believe her though?

It would be an outlandish claim to make against the leader of the Seven. And you. . . You would face so much backlash and hate. God, Starlight hopes that the two of you haven't slept together yet.

Rudely leaving Maeve to ponder what was going on, Starlight storms to find the one person who most likely already knows the truth.

"Ashley!"

There's a momentary freeze in her walk, back turned to Starlight. When Ashley realizes who it is, she releases of sigh of relief. "Oh. Starlight. Welcome back."

"I need a moment with you in your office."

"Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend right now. Call my assistant-"

"Goddamnit Ashley." She was losing her patience. Starlight's much stronger hand abruptly lashes out to grab hold of Ashley's arm.

Ashley knows better to play around with the temper of supes. Her face drains as she tries to retain an ounce of courage to nod her head and follow Starlight back to the security of her office.

But when Starlight finally voices the accusation, something awful happens to Ashley's expression. Pure fear.

"Just leave it Starlight!" Ashley snapped, attempting to rise up to a taller height.

"You know?" Starlight's eyes are round. "How long have you known?"

Biting the bottom of her lip, a hand raises shakingly to the tips of her red hair in an anxious manner. Like she wanted to tug a lock free from her scalp. Her eyes become glassy with tears that she refused to spill in front of Starlight.

"From the beginning. . ." Ashley's voice comes out as if she's about to cry. "Mr. Edgar told me to keep my head down and my mouth shut if I wanted to keep my job. And keep my life. . ."

"Who else knows?"

The newly christened VOUGHT CEO shakes her head. "No one else. But documents do exist. . ."

"Homelander's lying to her! She doesn't know that. . . Oh god, she doesn't know that he's her blood brother!" Impossible to keep her voice down when she was so outraged. Starlight wasn't sure if Homelander was in the Tower at the moment. It was dangerous to be too loud.

"I-It's absolutely wrong. I know, but Starlight- I'm so fucking terrified of what Homelander would do to me if I tried to take her away. I'm sorry Annie. I can't. I can't get between him and something he really wants."

Pursing her lips, Annie nods but doesn't blame Ashley. "I get it."

Starlight will just have to do it herself then.

You'd been floating on cloud nine after Homelander kissed you. What really shocked you was Homelander immediately asking you on a date after the kiss. Like he was too impatient to wait any longer to ask you out. Never thinking that America's number one supe would be interested in you in that way. As a kid he was your childhood crush. The perfect man. Strong, handsome, charming, no one else could compare to the perfection of Homelander.

While you were nervous for the first date, being with him actually soothed you. He treated you like a princess. His princess. And since that day, it really has felt like one of those fantasy romance novels you enjoyed reading.

He proudly showed you off on his arm whenever someone asked for a picture. Some of his fans were excited to see you join the Seven one day and make your supe debut next to your boyfriend. You knew they were only flattering you because Homelander gazed at you with such adoration.

"Once they get to know you, they'll love you." Homelander flashed you that smile that had your tummy bubbling like jacuzzi jets. "My love will have to be enough for now."

That caught you off guard. Love. "Your love?"

Homelander leaned in, lips hovering over your's. "Yes."

You got to experience him the way no one else has had the pleasure to witness.

With you, Homelander was utterly soft and affectionate. Watching tv you'd have his head in your lap, running your fingers through his blonde hair. You swore you heard him purr a few times. Homelander (he insisted you call him 'John' when the two of you were alone) would nuzzle his face into your thighs with the happiest grin on his face. Like he'd never experienced such bliss before.

He was the modern day equivalent to all mighty Zeus. A god. Yet he was acting similar to a cat who rubs their cheek possessively against you.

This man could easily laser your face off in a millisecond. Homelander never showed any aggression toward you. Not one harsh grip unless it was in passion.

You don't dwell on the face heating thought that was started to tug at your tummy.

"Starlight! Welcome back!" You smile ear to ear once you spot a familiar blonde head.

She spins on her heels and there's an expression of relief when she realizes its you who called out her name.

As she rushes up to you, you ask her "Did you just get back?"

Directly in front of you, Starlight's dark eyes seem to scan you. For what, you don't know.

When she doesn't say anything, you repeat her name and she comes back to herself. Blinking thick lashes once before shaking her head. "Sorry. Still jetlagged. Yeah. I just got back about half an hour ago."

"You're probably exhausted then." You smile and grip her arm with affection. "I'm glad you're back! I've been missing you as a sparring partner."

Even as you spoke, there was a loud ringing in your ears from the erratic thumping of Starlight's heartbeat. She was scared of something.

"Not one bit. It's good to be back. Reinvigorates me. Hey, are you busy right now? I was really craving some coffee from this really good cafe. Wanna tag along?"

The skip of her heart sounds like a plead for you to say yes. You try to keep your face worry free. "Yes! I would love to."

Did something happen on her assignment?

The walk took you several streets over, far from the Tower. During that time, she talked about where she'd been sent, what the operation was. You in turn told her about your accomplishments with your powers and training. Leaving the news about Homelander for last.

Tempering the excitement in your voice, you eye Starlight for a response. There was an unexplainable kinship you felt with her. She was the big sister you never had. Maeve was inspirational enough, but someone you felt like you would never be able to get close to.

"And how's it been? The relationship?" She tentatively asks. "Has he been treating you right?"

Enthusiastically you nod. "He has! I was worried at first, because of the age gap and, ya'know, he's THE Homelander. But. . . he's been so sweet and caring. I've never had a boyfriend before so maybe I'm being too hopeful about it."

At the cafe and with your orders in front of you, you recline into the leather chair. Neither of you being in supe uniform, no one bats an eye in your direction. “Are you okay Annie?”

“Me?”

You nod. “When I saw you… well, you sounded off. A little distressed.”

Annie tries to think of lies to tell you. Looking at your large, hopeful eyes killed her. She rolls her words around her mouth before spitting them out. "I guess I am a little distressed. About you and Homelander."

Waiting to see if you'd disregard her, Starlight attempts to continue but is caught off by a gruff voice "You finally tellin' the poor girl what kind of monster Homelander is?"

You're more so shocked at Starlight hissing 'Fuck' than the lumbering man behind you. Eyes, hair, clothes, even the aura smudged around him was pitch black. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

"Annie?" You look to her.

She's glaring at this dark interloper. "Get out of here."

He ignores her, and grabs a chair from a nearby abandoned table to join the two of you. The cafe was buzzing with noise allowing some coverage for personal discussions.

Chair positioned closer to you, his eyes drill into you with scrutiny. You'd never felt such resentment in a gaze. "Aren't you a naive little girl."

"Stop it, Butcher. I was just about to explain to her-"

"Annie, it's okay. Lower your voice." You don't know how you keep calm when deep down you're scared of what was going on. That was one thing you really learned from Maeve: act calm under pressure.

Annie takes in a slow breath. "I did mean to tell you sooner. . . It's just been hard for me to. . . you know, figure out how I was going to tell you." Her eyes are glossy. She leans in, so close her cheek brushes against your's as she whispers into your ear. . .

Butcher watches the slow widening of your eyes in sick satisfaction. How your face blanched of any color, robbed of any other expression besides one of revulsion.

You'd barely made it into the restroom stall before your throat was lined with the acidity of your vomit.

She wouldn't lie to you.

Why would Annie lie to you about this?

You didn't want to believe though. To do so would rip you apart. Homelander was-

Gagging, you hunch over the porcelain rim. Ears clogged, you're surprised that you catch the sound of the restroom door opening. Starlight's tentative voice calls out to you. She stands right outside the stall you occupied.

The last thing you wanted to do was show your face ever again, to anyone. "Who else knows?" Your throat hurts when you speak. Choking back a new wave of tears, you repeat your question when she didn't answer after a few seconds.

"I think it's best if you come with me. . ."

You did. After cleaning your face up, you let Starlight walk you out and back to the man called Butcher who patiently waited. From there he led you and Starlight through a dizzying array of side streets and dark alleys. No words were exchanged. Once safely inside a dingy apartment you were met by several others. The Boys, Starlight called them.

While Butcher may have been a complete bastard, the others appeared to possess more empathy toward you. They answered all of your questions to the best of their abilities.

Very few knew of your real relationship with Homelander. High up Vought executives (including Ashley). None of the Seven knew. Except. . .

"He knew. This entire time he knew." Hearing you whisper that broke Starlight's heart. She shares a look with Hughie to see his own sad shimmer in his eyes. "Why then- I don't understand. Why then did he-" Something in your stomach turns. You just can't say it out loud.

"Because he's fucked up." MM softly tells you.

For a moment you worriedly chew on your bottom lip mercilessly. "I can't go back." You'd never be able to look at him again. All the wonderful things you thought had happened to you since arriving at the tower were all based on sick lies and deception. Those who knew the truth must have thought of you as a stupid, naive child. Sheltered the entirety of her life before being thrown to the lions.

Annie gathers your hands in her's. "You don't have to. You don't have to step foot in there ever again."

"Unfortunately I don't think that's up to her." Butcher interjects. "The moment Homelander finds out she's not at Vought Towers, he'll be after her scent. You think he's going to be willing to let you go that easy?"

Hughie sighs, wishing his friend had more bed side manners. The truth of Butcher's words terrified you.

Homelander wasn't someone who you could hide from easily. Your powers, while being near identical to his, were no where near as honed. Telekinetic ability was the major one that you had over Homelander. Would that be enough to stop him?

Butcher's resentment toward supes, holding majority sway in his mindset, regards you with a crumb of respect. You didn't cry in front of him or any of the others present. Sclera of your eyes were red and held a mirror-like shine, but not one tear.

You were created for the sole purpose of one day going up against Homelander in a fight. The proof was the ink on the paper. Why you were raised so different from him.

And why you realize you have to go back to Vought Tower if not to publicly stand your ground and and separate an ties you had to both Vought and Homelander.

Your eyes were wide open now.

The upper levels of Vought were suffering from a Homelander melt down. Ashley found herself cowering under her desk the second she was able to whimper out that you were gone. He exploded in a flurry of rage when he came back from searching for you and he couldn't spot you anywhere.

He's screaming at Analytics, terrifying the poor workers to scan their screens faster. In and out of Vought Towers, many civilians from below only hear the zooming sound that he produces when he shoots across the sky. Making laps around the city to no avail.

"GOD DAMNIT ASHLEY!! You better have some good fucking news-" His eyes widen, body freezing.

You stood in the mess of ruined furniture that Homelander destroyed in his rage. Homelander breathes out your name, a delirious smile relaxing his face. "You worried me! I didn't know where you were! Wh-Where were you actually?" Catching his attention are the bags at your feet.

Fuck.

He can't breathe.

"I know everything." Grief and disgust hollow out your insides to where you felt a controllable numbness. It helped take the edge off for the moment.

"What're you talking about?" His smile remains, but there's definitely something cold about it.

This was the side of him that the Boys warned you about. "Stop. You know what I'm talking about. At least give me that bit of respect, Homelander. Or should I refer to you as brother?"

Reek of fear emanates from him. That revealed plenty.

"You don't understand-" Making the mistake of trying to get closer to you, you shoot him red eyes searing with the threat of lasers. Its enough to make him think again.

"Were you ever going to tell me? O-Or were you going to lie to me for the rest of my life?

"I never lied to you!" Homelander flinches at the volume of his own voice. Heavily breathing, he finds himself clenching and unclenching his hands.

Anger burns the backs of your eyes quite literally. "You told me that you loved me! You don't lie to people you love." You grind out.

"I do love you! Believe ME!" He craved to find out who told you. "Just let me talk! I only want what's best for you. Always! I LOVE you!"

Those three words that previously had your heart doing flips now makes you recoil. "Don't. Don't say that anymore. We're related!!"

"I know we are! Which means that any potential child we have will be the ultimate example of how supes can transcend their mortal skin to that of a god!"

You stare at him in naked disbelief. The red flags seemed so obvious now. Using the psionic aspect of your powers, your bags lift from the ground. Chest shuddering when you breathe out "I'm getting the fuck out of here. We're done."

"Now hold on!" Attempting to invade your space and perhaps push you in a corner, your control over your bags drops and instead it picks up several broken leg chairs with sharp ends all primed toward Homelander. His eyes glow at your disobedience.

No one breathes.

Slowly backing up to the broken window that allowed you access, you keep your gaze on him as you disarm and mentally reach for your bags.

"Don't come after me. Or I'll kill you."

With that you fall backward out the window and take to the sky.

Was this what it was like to experience a heart attack? The ringing in his ears wasn't letting up, banging at the walls of his skull.

Homelander lets out a wild howl that follows you all the way back to the hideout of the Boys. It shook the windows of the entire street block, even managed to break a few too. Glass showers down on unsuspecting people who scream and cower for coverage.

He'd find out who told you and rip their spine out through their asshole.

For years he's waited for and wanted a family. Something to officially put his stamp on and claim as his legacy. You weren't going to ruin that for him. You just didn't understand yet. Perhaps the intensity of his love for you must have scared you. That had to be it.

He runs his gloved hand over his face, hating how it trembled. He may not be able to find you now, but it was inevitable that he'd see you again. Homelander would make sure of that.

Then he'll chain you to himself if he has to and force you to be happy.

You'd understand.

Soon.

You surprise the Boys, standing at their front door. Determination and a burning in your gaze that intrigued Butcher. Panting as you flew as fast as you could to put distance between you and Vought Towers. Bags dropping to your feet as you lean against the frame of the door. "How can I help take down that sick fuck?"

Butcher smirks "You realize this won't be easy lovey."

"I'm well aware." You curtly reply, tiring of his games. "If Vought kept this secret nice and tucked away, how many more secrets do they have in their possessions? To bring Vought to the ground, you need to use their own weapon against them. Who better than Homelander's very blood?"

"Well well, look who grew up in a matter of hours." There's encouragement in his deranged smile. "Scorched earth?"

You nod. "Scorched earth."

Open ended ending :p don't ya just love them? I might make kinda like an epilogue type thing later but as of now this mini-story is finished :)

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