#two souls that were truly made to be together
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Hi, happy Friday and thank you for the welcome! Arlow de Riva/Lucanis with “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.” - Anonymous-Inquisitor
ty for the prompt!! Mostly fluff with some hurt/comfort (?) and subtle pining for flavor :3 for @dadrunkwriting - mild da4 spoilers, just Arlow and Lucanis being somft workaholics.
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“Rook?”
Arlow started, blotting the parchment with the bead of ink that had been waiting too long for her to keep writing. Cursing under her breath, she set the unfinished letter aside and laid down her quill.
“Yes?” she asked, without looking up, or even really registering who had called her name. “What’s happening?”
“Arlow.” The same voice, but quieter, firmer. Finally, her brain caught up to her ears and she sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose.
“Lucanis. What do you need? Must be serious, to get you out of the pantry.”
“If it were truly serious, I wouldn’t have waited as long as I did for you to respond to your name.” Lucanis perched on the edge of her desk and folded his arms. His brow knit together, concerned. “You need to rest.”
“Hypocrite.”
“My reasons are a little more tangible than yours.”
“Are they?” Arlow challenged. “Tell that to D’Meta’s crossing. Or—“
She broke off, glancing over to where Varric was sleeping. The steady rise and fall of his chest did nothing to ease the guilty ache in her heart.
“You cannot help anyone if you are exhausted beyond reason,” Lucanis said gently. “And what would Viago say, if he saw you so unaware of your surroundings?”
“Viago would clock me upside the head and knock me out to teach me a lesson.”
“Is that a request?”
“You can certainly try.” Her words were snippy, but they lacked their usual bite. She didn’t remember the last time she’d properly slept. Before the Crows kicked her out of Antiva, probably. With a sigh, she picked up her quill and took a fresh sheet of parchment.
“Arlow—“
“Someone has to answer Strife and Irelin,” she snapped. “Unless you have someone else that’s interested in the job, let me handle it.”
Her quill was halfway into the inkpot when Lucanis laid his hand over hers, trapping it there. She clenched her fist, irritated.
“Take a break,” he said firmly, in the voice of the First Talon’s grandson, the one that was used to deference. It made Arlow want to buck on instinct. But there was a weariness in her bones, an exhaustion in her soul that wanted to agree.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I blink, and the world falls apart, Lucanis. I look away, and every crisis redoubles.”
She closed her eyes and steadied herself with a breath. He was close enough that she smelled coffee and cinnamon, and the odd tangle of herbs that were always drying over his cot. “This is my contract,” she said. “Could you rest until it was completed?”
He pulled the quill up between her fingers and set it aside, cupping her now empty hand in his and gently massaging the cramps she hadn’t even felt forming. “Of course not. But I would at least break for coffee.”
“Is that an offer?”
“It always was,” he said softly. His fingers stilled against hers and it took all of Arlow’s willpower to keep her hand from twitching, lacing their fingers together. She wanted that comfort. But it wasn’t something she could take so easily anymore.
“Are you brewing from your supply, or ours?” she asked, teasing. Lucanis raised a brow.
“Would you even know the difference?”
“I would,” Arlow said, affronted. “Or do you think Viago didn’t drill us in palate sensitivity?”
“There is a difference in tasting for poisons and knowing a quality brew.”
“The two have a surprising amount of overlap. Just because I’m not a snob—“
“The word you’re looking for is connoisseur.”
“Sure it is.” Arlow rolled her eyes. She capped the inkpot and stood, regretting the chill that took her hand when it slipped from Lucanis’ grasp. “Well, if you’re taking me from work, it better be from your stash.”
“It will be,” Lucanis assured her, holding the infirmary door open. “Someone has to save you and Neve from yourselves.”
“I might be at the point of saving. Neve, on the other hand—“
Lucanis laughed, a low, quiet chuckle that warmed Arlow better than any cup of coffee he promised. He slipped past her to lead the way to the kitchen, the silky samite of his vest brushing against her knuckles. She clenched her fist to keep from chasing after it.
“Let’s get something in you before you’re beyond hope, then,” he murmured, eyes twinkling. The corner of Arlow’s mouth quirked. As long as he looked at her like that, she thought, she wouldn’t be beyond anything. But she didn’t say that.
She gestured across the courtyard with her chin. “Lead the way.”
#my writing#dadwc#rookanis#rook x lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#oc: arlow de riva#arlow x lucanis#da4#veilguard spoilers#they're SOMFT and they're so good at caring for EACH OTHER and so bad at caring for themselves#dragon age fanfic
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I. ADORED. S2 of Arcane.
Final thoughts on the season below the cut
Season two was incredibly emotionally fulfilling. The climax was amazing. I loved the constant butterfly effect throughout the entire show, starting with Jayce as a child in the snow and Vi and Powder pulling off a heist leading up to all of this. All of it felt like a natural progression, so many threads of fate being woven together into one.
But there is a part of me that almost wishes they hadn't raised the stakes quite so high.
I know it's literally the namesake of the show and therefore this was probably always the plan, but there's a part of me that wishes they had left the Arcane out of it and just focused on the class war that got kind of... brushed over in Act 2?
It feels like they had to brush aside the themes of classism and oppression for the sake of making room for this bigger climax. And I think a big part of the reason I feel like this is because season 1 chose to focus so much on that part rather than the Arcane plot. So maybe I would have felt this way no matter what they did. But in their defense, they didn't forget about it entirely.
The shot with Sevika joining the council and several councilors giving her disgusted or mistrustful looks is a wonderful way to show that while they may have temporarily joined forces to defeat a bigger threat, the tensions between Piltover and Zaun are not automatically resolved. And I do like how Sevika is still the only councilor from Zaun. Everyone else is still topside. It's a good way to show that while a little progress has been made, it's only the beginning, and Sevika will likely have to fight tooth and nail for any reform.
Jinx's death... well I suppose I should have seen it coming. It was a good conclusion to her arc. But I still wish it hadn't happened. I am of the personal opinion that it didn't need to happen, and now I'm just left wondering how the hell Warwick/Vander was still alive when every other construct or whatever the hell they were had already died.
Vi... my darling. Even at the very end, couldn't catch a break. She really did lose everything. I'm glad she has Cait. I'm glad we got the sesbian lex scene. I just wish she could have ended the show genuinely happy, after having suffered so much throughout her entire life. I know for Arcane it's kind of a long shot for anyone to end up truly happy, but... I still really wanted it for her.
And on a lighter note: just when I thought I couldn't be any more attracted to Mel, the character designers decided to take that as a personal challenge.
I LOVE that they gave Mel more attention this season. The whole witch plotline and Mel having magic came kind of totally out of left field, but I still really enjoyed it. It gave Mel an actual role in this season which was less focused on internal politics, which I am glad for. It meant that she wasn't pushed to the side when the final climax came up. And I liked how her being a black rose put her in direct opposition to Ambessa, as opposed to the subtlety both of them had been employing up until that point. I liked the juxtaposition between the two of them, and I liked how she became the leader of Noxus following everything. Returning home after a long exile.
The completion of Viktor and Jayce's arc together was so fulfilling. I wasn't even sad about their deaths, I was glad that they were together, and that they could finish what they started together, just as both of them had always wanted.
I know everyone ships them but honestly I don't. I don't think their bond needs to be romantic. It transcends the need for those kind of labels. What's important isn't the exact nature of the relationship, it's the depth of it. It's the fact that their destinies, their souls have always been and always will be intertwined. And honestly the fact that they weren't explicitly romantic is almost better to me, because it defies the idea that relationships that deep always have to be romantic.
Ekko, as always, was perfect. My only complaint about him at all this season is that we didn't get more of him. I so adore him, I loved his episode in arc 3, it felt so perfect for him. To see what could have been, having just briefly everything he could ever want, and then knowing he had to leave it behind in order to keep moving forward.
And gosh, what a way of tying his time travel abilities into the story. It does make me kind of question what was going on with his fight with Jinx in season 1, if it wasn't actually time travel, though? Maybe we were just seeing another timeline, and he wasn't? Idk.
I'm so glad that at the end of the day, it was him that managed to save everyone. It wasn't perfect. He didn't bring anyone back to life. He didn't reset any timelines (which I am immensely grateful for, I would not have wanted everything that happened to be erased, it would have been such lazy writing), but he turned back time just enough to let Jayce snap out of his trance and free Viktor from the emotionless shell he'd surrounded himself with. He gave them one last moment together. And that's all they needed.
I don't know how I'm ever going to be the same after this. I am so glad for Arcane's existence.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane s2#arcane spoilers#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn arcane#caitvi#vi arcane#jinx arcane#sevika arcane#jayce talis#viktor arcane#mel medarda#ekko arcane#ekko
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You're Looking A Little Green
AO3 LINK
Word Count: 5k
Summary:
Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”
Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”
The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
Rio's drawn to the powerful Magick of the hex and finds Agatha flirting with a powerful witch that isn't her. I cannot be blamed for the filth that follows
WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT, CHOKING + BLOODPLAY + BREATHPLAY
Rio Vidal did not feel. She simply came into existence, filled with a singular purpose to collect the lost souls of the dead. Death was not made to feel. But, Gods, if anyone were to challenge the very rules of the universe, to disrupt the natural order of all things? Of course it would be Agatha Harkness. Who else?
She has to call it love because Agatha’s love is all she has ever known. It is cruel and gentle, angry and serene, it is wicked and sinister and everything in between. And Rio could not get enough of it, enough of her torturous little witch. It was one thing to use the Darkhold and hide from Death. Besides, she enjoyed the chase, the hunt, being the predator running after its prey. But what she could not stand was this.
Rio was drawn to the raw, chaotic magic of this place – what kind of all-powerful Green Witch would she be if she could not sense it? – and was unsurprised to see Agatha had found her way here too. Her clever girl could always sniff out power, always greedily eager to take as much as she could.
“Ridiculous,” Rio scoffs quietly, watching through the window of Wanda’s living room. She could do nothing but watch, the anger in her belly brewing into something even darker, dangerous, twisted and ugly. Jealousy.
That is one of the many emotions she had not felt until Agatha and she can wholeheartedly say it is the absolute worst one. Her black heart can stand heartache, can stand betrayal, can stand the endless torture of Agatha’s glare of hatred because those feelings had to come from somewhere. It has been a form of comfort to know after all these centuries she can still affect her witch, still make her feel, just as she makes Rio feel.
Jealousy is ugly. It makes her feel ugly, inside. It takes a blow at her security and makes her question herself, whether she is good enough for Agatha, whether the witch has decided to move on from her to someone solid, something real, something tangible and within her grasp. It is what she deserves, after all. Despite the playfulness, the chase, the books of history the two have together, Rio could never shake off the belief that Agatha will never truly want her for all she is. She cannot. Agatha hates that she wants Death, and that hatred will fester until there is nothing left. No love, no hate, just indifference.
“Do you really?” Rio recalls the first time Agatha told her how she felt for her, the two of them having floated around each other for weeks, a youthful, anxious mess, “Do you really love me, Agatha? Me?” Rio asked, voice shaking, hands trembling as she held Agatha’s blushing cheeks.
The witch sighed, a sound deep and upsetting that struck Rio uncomfortably. “I fear I do.”
Fear. She feared it, hated it, did not want to feel what she felt. And Rio? Rio had not wanted a single thing since the beginning of time until she looked into Agatha’s eyes and decided she could not go on without having her. She loved her, wanted to be consumed by her, felt nothing but her.
It wasn’t until…until Nicky that it went terribly wrong and Rio saw their relationship for what it was. Agatha could not force her feelings to disappear, so she did, and she made it perfectly clear that she did not want Rio. But with their feud and many fights that inevitably led to Agatha’s teeth biting her lip until they tasted like copper, Rio realised that Agatha needed her. And Agatha hated Rio for it.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rio is pulled out of her dark thoughts by an angry voice she cannot help but smile widely at.
“Hello, my love,” She greets Agatha smoothly, huffing as the angry woman grabs her by the arm and guides her across the lawn, around another house, and then into the quiet privacy of her four walls, “Hmm,” Rio takes in a deep breath of relief, her bones feeling more at ease in Agatha’s home. She can feel the thrum of her lover’s Magick in here, “I like it here. It tastes like you.”
Agatha grunts angrily, shoving a fist against Rio’s chest as the Green Witch licks at the air with wild and wide eyes. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? It is so on-brand for you to show up here and ruin everything for me.”
A sinister smirk splits across Death’s face. “Now why would I sit back and let you have all the fun?”
Agatha grunts yet again, this time stepping towards Death with a raised pointer finger. “This is more than just fun, Vidal, this could be–The power she has is–You know what she is. You can sense her Magick. This could change everything for me,” Agatha stutters her way through the sentence, clearly taking a more calculated route against this witch. Rio can see how serious this is to her, and she honestly had no plans to ruin it. All she wanted was to see her.
With soft eyes, Rio steps forward, her fingers daring to brush down Agatha’s jaw. “You are all I sense. Your Magick is all I ever want to taste.”
Agatha sucks in a sharp breath at the confession, never quiet growing used to Rio’s blunt nature. There are never any lies here, never a nervous thought that blocks the truth from tumbling out of her mouth. The honesty was always refreshing. But in moments like this, all it does is make Agatha want to kiss her until Death herserlf needs a breath of air to stay alive.
“Not now, Vidal,” Agatha replies coldly, forcing her eyes away from Rio’s impossibly sad ones. The power those eyes have had over her…
“Why don’t you want me?” Rio asks with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest, in typical Rio-fasion.
Agatha can’t help but scoff. “What is wrong with you?”
Rio’s face suddenly hardens in realisation, forcing distance between them as she steps back towards the door. “Do you want her? Is that it?” Rio doesn’t know why she asked. The very idea of answer that says to ‘yes’ has her first imagining she has insides and those insides are twisting like snakes.
“I want her power.”
At that, Rio growls a terrifying noise, deep and dark. “You want her! I saw the way you looked at her in there, Agatha,” She accuses, unable to shift the images out of her head. She watched them through the window: she cannot forget Agatha’s easy smile, so carefree and playful; the light touch of Wanda’s hand brushing Agatha’s hand; the blush tinting Agatha’s cheek.
Her witch suddenly smiles knowingly, eyes low as she tilts her head. “Oh, honey…” she mumbles in fake sympathy, holding Rio’s chin in her hand, “You’re looking a little green,” she spits out, her hold tightening.
Rio gulps, always being one to submit to that storm in Agatha’s deep blue eyes. “Well, I am the Green Witch,” she mutters rather weakly, huffing at the flash of amusement reflecting back at her.
“You are.”
Rio straightens her back. “I am.”
“You’re Death.”
She glares darkly. “I am.”
“Her power is no match for yours.”
Rio growls, teeth snapping at the woman still holding her chin like a pup. “It’s not.”
Agatha raises a brow “No?” she says infantalisingly.
“No being is more powerful than me,” Rio declares, flipping the two of them around.
Agatha gasps as her back is pushed against the front door. “So act like it,” she demands, raising a leg until her thigh is pressed against Rio’s, “Sulking at me, pouting like a sad puppy…” Agatha pouts mockingly, cackling at Rio’s huff and glare, “Here I was thinking you couldn’t get more pathetic chasing me around when I clearly don’t want to be found.”
“Oh yeah?” Rio’s eyes flick to the basement where she knows Ralph’s dead body is, “Explain him,” she asks with a smirk. This has always been their game. Kill, collect, fuck, over and over again, because that is the only line of intimacy Agatha is comfortable with, all Rio can take.
“I kill because I want to, not because I want you.”
Rio can see the quiver of her lip, the twitch of her brow. It’s subtle but she knows her witch by now. “Hmm…” she hums before leaning in to breath against Agatha’s ear, “Okay, Agatha. Have it your way. Be in control.”
Agatha wavers at this, suddenly shoving Rio back. “I am,” she defends herself, marching off to the kitchen.
Rio follows, keeping enough distance to make Agatha uncomfortable. She knows how much her witch hates being observed. “Sure you are.”
Agatha spills the water she tries to pour into a glass, grunting in frustration as she slams her fist against the countertop. “Are you that jealous?” She snaps her head to Rio, turning on the attack, “God, you’re so desperate you need to tell yourself this lie to fuel that delusion in your head. I do not kill for you, Rio. I have not killed for you in deca–”
“Do you remember the first time?” Rio interrupts her casually, leaning against the fridge door, “You were so nervous to present me with that old witch’s soul. A gift, you said, remember? For me…” Rio’s words slip out like honey, sultry and smooth, “Courting Lady Death herself, you said.”
Agatha scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “I say a lot of things.”
“And not a single lie. Not to me,” Rio manages to lower her voice even more, almost down to a whisper. The husk is something Agatha always struggled to resist, but she does her very best to deflect.
“How would you know?” Agatha snaps defensively but Rio sees right through her.
“Hmm,” she hummed, stepping close enough for her nose to brush against the back of Agatha’s pale neck, “Tell me.”
Agatha sucks in a breath. “Tell you what?” she whispers back, nails digging into her palms as a last resort, screaming inwardly to keep her hands to herself.
Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”
Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”
The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”
At those words, Agatha allows one moment. Just one moment of vulnerability where she holds Rio’s freezing cheek in her hand, lets Death lean into her touch. She sheds a cold layer away from her harsh eyes, the last cloud of the storm fading to bring forth the Sun. Rio takes it all in, soaks as much of Agatha as she can before the inevitable goodbye.
“Show me,” Agatha says instead, breaking the silence as she pulls Rio’s face close to hers, “Show me why I should want you.”
Rio has never been one to back down from a challenge; a soft smirk stretches her lips before she finally attaches their lips together. She can count the exact amount of hours, weeks, years since their last kiss. Agatha was in her leather phase then, her hair curled with a rebellious purple streak. Each first kiss ignites that same fire within her, just like the first time they ever kissed all those centuries ago.
“I will never tire of kiss–”
Agatha rolls her eyes at Rio’s interruption. “None of that today. You want to be jealous? Show me just how possessive you can get.”
Rio frowns at this, brushing her nose against Agatha’s softly. She misses her dearly, so intensely that her hollow chest aches from being far from her.
Agatha can see the conflict written over Rio’s face and knows the one thing she can say to flip that switch. With a wicked smirk, she shoves Rio’s chest again hard enough for her to stumble back.
“If you can’t, I’m sure Wanda wouldn’t mind helping her neighbo–”
Before she could even finish, Rio’s hand gripped her neck and shoved her against the fridge. A filthy moan escaped her throat before she could control it, which would typically please Rio but the Green Witch could see nothing but red at this moment.
“Say her name again, Agatha. Go on.” Rio plays with her prey, fingers tightening their grip as her other hand dug painfully into Agatha’s side.
“Mmm, why, I’m tempted, so tempted,��� the witch teases, chuckling darkly with purple swirls in her eyes, still trying to take back a little control, “If you don’t fuck me hard enough, I may even think about her.”
Rio slams her lips to Agatha’s in a brutal, angry kiss. She shoves her invading tongue into the witch’s gasping mouth with no warning, attacking, claiming, swiping every surface she can. Every action screams possessiveness; she needs Agatha to know who she belongs to, who she will always belong to.
Nails scratch along Agatha’s stomach as she pulls her shirt up, lifting until it’s covering her face. Before Agatha can take it off, Rio’s lips are already attacking her new skin. She mouths at the top of her full breasts still covered by a forest-green lacy bra.
“Wow,” Rio suddenly chuckles, pulling the strap with her teeth until it snaps back against Agatha’s reddening skin, “You wore this for me. You knew I was coming the moment you killed that man, didn’t you?”
Agatha huffs, finally dragging her shirt over her head, her hair a dishevelled nest which makes her look even more alluring. “Oh, you wish,” she denies, but her eyes say otherwise, refusing to hold contact with Rio’s for more than a second.
The Green Witch remains consistent in her gaze, twisting her head to catch Agatha out in her movements. “You expect me to believe you just happened to be wearing my favourite colour?”
“It happens to be Wan–” Agatha’s words are swallowed up by Rio’s tongue again, this time paired with hands that rip her bra to the ground and immediately squeeze as if claiming her new territory. Agatha knows Rio will take her right then and there if she wanted to, but she was still wary of this sitcom reality and how much of this Wanda can really see. She did place her runes very carefully but that witch’s power is unimaginable chaos. “Maybe we should–”
“Shut up,” Rio’s tone drips with authority as she pinches Agatha’s hard bud. Her face flickers to her true form for a moment, the dangerous look being enough to send a quick heat between Agatha’s legs.
Agatha utters no other word, just a frustrated groan at herself for reacting this way to Rio. It’s a hopeless feeling knowing there was nothing that made her weak but her.
“Spread them.”
Agatha clenches her jaw as she reluctantly spreads her legs apart. Rio sends a pleased smirk her way, those chocolate eyes darkened with desire.
“Good girl.”
Agatha bites her bottom lip hard to suppress the downright pathetic moan, but a whine slips out widening Rio’s already cocky smile. The embarrassed witch turns her head away but Rio forces it back with a flick of her fingers, black and green tendrils of Magick finally making an appearance.
Runes won’t work on her. Agatha found that one out the hard way a few decades ago, a rookie mistake which ended with Agatha tied in the air, high and not-so-dry. But that’s a story for another time.
Agatha arches her back into the touch, making an executive decision that if she is to play with Rio, she will be the one manipulating Death into doing what she wants. “I’m always good for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you feel how good I am?” Agatha husks seductively, biting her bottom lip in the way she knows drives Rio to madness.
Death pants at the shift, feeling Agatha spread her legs further apart, begging for her touch. “Wicked…” Rio mumbles as she buries her face in Agatha’s chest right between her breasts. The woman is quick to push them together, using herself to gently push Rio over the edge of control. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” Rio moans into her chest, licking, biting, sucking as she claims her. It only takes a moment for her hand to leave Agatha’s hip and slither between her legs. She teases over the lace, both of them sighing at the first touch.
“That’s right, baby, feel me, take me,” Agatha chants and pants, covering Rio’s hand with one of hers. The latter presses her thumb to Agatha’s clit, leaning back up to swallow her gasp. They kiss languidly as she lazily trails her thumb up and down, feeling Agatha get wetter by the second as their tongues glide together. Gods, she loves kissing this woman. Kissing Agatha is the closest Rio will ever get to Heaven.
Soon enough, though, Agatha’s patience runs thin and she shoves her own panties to the side. Rio feels that slickness on her fingers immediately, growling into Agatha’s lips. She bites at her wicked witch’s bottom lip once in punishment before descending to her knees.
Agatha tries to resist making a comment, really, she uses all her willpower. But Rio looks up at her with such adoration, eyes as wide as a puppy’s. It’s so pathetically cute.
“I knew you’d end up on your knees for me. You always do,” she tries to soften the blow with a gentle finger brushing the hair out of Rio’s eyes, but it does nothing to soothe the now angry witch. Suddenly, Agatha’s hands fly up, wrists bound against the fridge with Magick. “Come on, play fair.”
“You want to talk about fair?” Rio huffs, shaking her head as she decides not to tread on this topic. Instead, she focuses on the glistening mess in front of her. She drags Agatha’s panties to the floor, practically salivating by the time she’s done. Though she wants nothing more than to have that delicate slick on her tongue, she needs to punish Agatha, needs to make her want her, make her beg.
Rio starts slow with a wet, delicate kiss to the inside of Agatha’s thigh. It immediately quivers at the touch, Agatha attempting to spread her legs further to entice the tortuous witch into giving her what she wants. But Rio remains strong, grounding herself with the taste of Agatha’s slick that dripped down to her thighs. She glides her tongue over, moaning at the taste, circling her skin, painting out her name over and over again. The moment Agatha growls in frustration, Rio’s there to bite down hard enough to bruise, silencing the witch. It’s a warning, a shout to be patient or else.
“Will you be good for me?” Rio asks as she looks up, her eyes dilated and high on the power she has over Agatha.
“I thought you called me a good girl,” Agatha rebuttals, voice trembling slightly though still filled with sass.
Rio pretends to contemplate for a moment. “I suppose I did. But I think a real good girl would beg. Wouldn’t you agree, sweetheart?”
Agatha doesn’t bother hiding her reaction to this, bursting out into laughter at the audacity. Her? Beg? She hasn’t begged for Rio since before– “No.”
Rio lifts a brow, fingers tightening around Agatha’s thigh. “No?” Agatha stands firm in her answer, a seriousness in her eyes that Rio can’t help but shake her head at. Her stubborn little witch. “Fine, Agatha. Have it your way.”
The first swipe of her tongue transports Agatha to another fucking universe. Blue eyes immediately disappear into her skull; her heart catches up in her throat at the sensation; her legs lose all control and she’s sure she’d be on the ground if it weren’t for the Magick binding her wrists. She has always been loud, proudly so, and this is no different. Screw Wanda. Let her hear.
“Fuck, yes, fucking finally,” she whines, moans filthily, rolling her hips to the rhythm Rio sets.
Fuck control, Rio thinks. Fuck it all; this is real power. Having Agatha like this, hearing her like this, being the one to string these sounds out of her. This is fucking power.
She slides her tongue expertly through Agatha’s folds, circling her clit but refusing to touch it yet. She teases as much as she can, feeling gush after gush of wetness and bringing her tongue back down to lick up as much as she can. Her tongue traces along Agatha’s entrance, teasing for a moment, waiting, waiting…
“Rio,”
Her name. Her actual name, not Vidal, not Death, not sweetheart or baby or whatever diversion. Rio.
Without a second to waste, she thrusts her tongue up, immediately moaning at the throb of Agatha’s tight, wet walls.
“Rio, fuck, oh fuck, don’t you dare stop,” her goddess of a witch moans above her and Rio looks up with eyes filled with worship. What she would do to this woman, for this woman, what she had already done. She will spend eternity wanting nothing but her.
Rio thrusts, twists, curls her tongue until Agatha is writhing, rolling her hips, begging with her body. She waits until that moment, until she tightens just so, before Rio pulls back completely.
Agatha immediately groans at the feeling, almost predicting it. Her groan twists into a frustrated, angry scream, face and cheeks red, eyes wild as she glares down. “Fuck you!”
Rio’s eyes darken as she slowly ascends. “Watch your fucking tongue,” she warns, voice low, controlling.
Agatha leans towards the danger. “Why don’t you make me?”
“I think you’ll beg me to make you.”
Agatha laughs at this again, her need to retain control and protect her ego too high. “This again? I’d sooner let you leave me like this than beg for you to–” Her words catch in her throat as soon as she feels something familiar pressed against her thigh. Agatha doesn’t need to look down to know what it is.
“Cat got your tongue?” Rio smirks that fucking smirk, victory already in her eyes. “You know which one it is?”
Agatha gulps, her teeth pressed together hard. Of fucking course she knew which one it was. It’s the only one Rio would use. Dark green, deliciously thick, just long enough to hit that one spot that sends Agatha over Mount Everest, and, the most important part…it’s enchanted.
Rio can feel every little touch.
“You sure you don’t want to beg?” Rio tempts her again, this time adjusting between Agatha’s legs so the length of her strap presses against Agatha’s slick heat. They both grunt at the feeling, their mouths an inch apart.
Agatha breathes in a laugh. “You’ll be the one begging in a minute, hun.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rio pants, starting a slow grind. It was a calculated risk, snapping her for this strap to appear. It drove the both of them mad, Rio already feeling her grip over her self-control loosening. Agatha felt so fucking warm, so wet. Rio’s mind is filled with memories of her heat, nights spent pressed so close together she’s shocked their Magick never somehow merged them into one. She craves that closeness with her again.
Agatha twists her hips as subtly as she can, trying to get it to slip in as Rio distracts herself with dirty thoughts. “Don’t you want to feel me, baby? Don’t you miss it? Miss…me?”
Rio groans, the sound a mix of pain, want, sadness, joy, everything. Agatha makes her feel it all. She pulls back suddenly, eyes wildly pulsing with desire as she looks over Agatha’s marked body.
Agatha recognises that look of possession. “That’s right, sweetheart. If you want me to be yours, all you have to do is take me.”
Rio only had one card left up her sleeve, and it better fucking work because Agatha uses her words to play Rio like a fucking fiddle. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and what it was going to get her. Using her bodily strength this time, Rio unbinds Agatha’s wrists and spins her around. Within seconds, the witch is bent over the kitchen island, back arched, legs spread obediently for Rio.
“Shit.”
Rio smirks, immediately dropping a hand to spank a pale cheek. Agatha moans loud and open, greedily pushing her ass back for more. Rio gives her nothing, though, only scraping her nails along pale skin.
“Rio,” Agatha warns through gritted teeth, gasping as Rio teases her with the head of her strap. It presses against her entrance, pushing that tiny bit through before pulling back completely. “Rio!” she scolds, feeling desperation crawl up her throat. She wants to be filled by her so badly, craves it, misses it dearly. It’s always been her darkest, deepest desire, to be taken and used, treated like meat and bones by Lady Death herself. And that fucking witch knows it.
“You know what to say, Agatha. Good girls get what they want.”
Rio teases her strap again, grinding her teeth together to hold back her own moans at the feeling of that wet slick dripping over her head. It’s so simple for Agatha to say one word, one fucking word just so Rio could sink into that heat and never fucking leave. Gods, she loves her stubborn witch.
“Fuck, okay, just fucking fuck me! I want you to fuck me!” Agatha yells out, fingers gripping the edge of the island, turning whiter by the second.
With that, Rio thrusts hard, deep, whimpering at the sudden tightness, moaning with her lover as she screams in pleasure at the invasion. But she stills after that.
Agatha feels so fucking full, hasn’t felt this full in years; it’s exhilarating, it’s endless pleasure and pressure, it’s that maddening stretch that has her panting like she’s in heat. But Rio won’t fucking move. “Move. Fuck, Rio, you can move, baby,” Agatha says, reassures, letting Rio know she doesn’t need a moment of adjustment.
But the Green Witch has outdone herself today with her tricks and self-control. “I don’t think I heard you say it yet,” she husks, chuckling wickedly into Agatha’s ear as she presses up against her. Her hips are too close to Agatha’s for the witch’s hip movements to do anything and it has her almost sobbing in frustration.
“Rio,” she pleads, her tone sounding far less controlled, the sass almost gone completely.
“You have two choices, my love,” Rio risks her choice of words, knowing so when Agatha freezes completely, “You can either say the magic word now, or I can fuck you until you’re screaming and leave you just as you’re about to–”
“Please,” Agatha breathes out, so soft Rio almost misses it. Rio freezes, not expecting Agatha to give in that easily. But Agatha takes her lack of response as a want for more, and she can’t risk the second option. She can’t. “Rio, please, I…I need you, my love.”
My love. Love, love, love…
Rio breathes out shakily, failing at shoving the feeling inside her chest away. She embraces it instead, gripping Agatha’s hips with strong, controlling hands. “I got you,” she whispers soothingly, pulling her hips back, groaning at the delicious drag of those tight, wet walls. “I got you, baby.”
Agatha won’t sob, she won’t, but she’ll shake, and she’ll whimper and whine, and she’ll bite down on her hand so fucking hard she draws blood. She lets her body go, trusting Rio’s hands to hold her, to control her hips, her pleasure. It feels like she’s floating as Rio rolls her hips over and over again, moaning behind her, whispering soft praises. It must be Magick, she thinks, to feel this way. To feel so free yet controlled at once.
She moans greedily at every thrust, begging for Rio to go, “Harder, fuck, please,” and “Faster, just like that, fuck, please don’t stop,” as she’s pushed closer and closer to the edge. She was close enough with Rio’s tongue inside, but this? Being filled and stretched to her limits, and hearing Rio’s loud, untamed moans of pleasure behind her knowing she can feel every inch of Agatha wrapped around her soul? Nothing could beat this feeling.
“Tell me,” Rio suddenly demands, her mouth to Agatha’s ear, panting filthily, biting on her earlobe. “Fucking tell me, Agatha,” she growls into her ear, teeth sinking into her neck, tongue licking the blood, lips sucking until she’s marked bright and red.
Without another thought in her head, Agatha pants as she’s pushed back and forth by Rio’s hardening thrusts. “I want you.”
“Again,” Rio demands, groaning as Agatha’s walls tighten at the authority in her tone.
She’s weightless, her mind knowing nothing but Rio, her body feeling nothing but Rio; Rio’s strap buried deep inside her, stretching her walls so painfully good; Rio’s nipples, hard as they brush against her back; Rio’s hand suddenly creeping up and around, gripping her throat giving her that thrill of danger. All she can taste is Rio on her tongue, Rio’s Magick, Rio’s hot breath against her neck, can smell the scent of death and soil, fresh grass and the smallest hint of jasmine. She knows with every bone in her body that she belongs to Rio and she always will. She cannot escape Death.
“I want you,” she pants, her tone leaving no room for doubt, “I want you, Rio, I want you, only you, always you, I want–” She’s unsure if she can’t speak because of the intense wave of pleasure that hits her when Rio’s other hand sneaks between her legs and thumbs at her clit, or if the pressure of Rio’s grip around her back took her breath away. All she knows is Rio.
The ringing in her ear doesn’t cease as her eyes roll to the back of her head, body shaking, trembling as Rio ignores her, continues thrusting as hard and fast she can. In Agatha’s haze of pleasure, she realises Rio’s using her to chase her own high and that only pushes Agatha over the edge again. She can’t stop falling, can’t stop the guttural, almost animalistic moans from echoing in the space. The only thing that grounds her is Rio’s safe hands, Rio’s erratic, high moans as she thrusts faster and faster until her hips still, pressed to the brim inside Agatha’s pulsing walls.
Her eyes close at some point. She’s still in the same position, Rio’s still buried deep inside her. But she’s holding her, still, face pressed into the back of her neck as her body shakes gently. She’s crying, Agatha realises. And she blames this moment of vulnerability for the tight, sad feeling in her chest at the sound. She knows how badly her love wants to be with her, knows how much it is killing her to be apart, knows of the torturous pain.
Agatha sighs, pressing her cheek to the cold marble of the island.
Death comes for us all.
Well…she comes for Agatha the most.
masterlist + guidelines
this is so filthy im embarassed anyway
#agatha all along#agathario#agatha x rio#agatha harkness fanfiction#agathario smut#agatha x rio fanfiction
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【༶•⛧┈♛】 ―――― Lucifer's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. He stepped over the woman's body, closing the distance between himself and Cain once more. ❝ You wound me. Have I not always been honest with you, in my own way ? ❞ His fingers ghosted along Cain's jawline, a touch as light as a feather yet heavy with unspoken meaning. ❝ The lies, the deceit... they're not for you. Never for you. They're merely tools, as sharp and effective as any blade. ❞ Lucifer's eyes bore into Cain's, searching, probing. ❝ But if it's truth you want, then truth you shall have. ❞
In an instant, the air around them shifted, crackling with otherworldly energy. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a void of darkness and whispers. Lucifer's true form began to bleed through his human guise, wings of shadow and light unfurling behind him. ❝ This is what you want, isn't it ? ❞ Lucifer's voice echoed, no longer smooth but raw and ancient. ❝ To see beneath the lies, beneath the masks we both wear. ❞ His hand, now adorned with gleaming talons, cupped Cain's face. ❝ I've missed you, old friend. More than you can imagine. And I will prove my worth to you, not with pretty words or elaborate deceptions, but with power. ❞
The darkness around them pulsed, alive with possibilities. ❝ Together, we could reshape this world. No more hiding, no more playing by their rules. What do you say, Cain ? Are you ready to embrace what we truly are ? ❞ There we far and few creatures Lucifer was ever honest with, Cain was one of those. The raw power emanating from the fallen angel was intoxicating, a siren call to the darkest parts of Cain's soul. ❝ We were made this way, Cain. Shaped by forces beyond our control. But together, we could control those forces. We could rewrite the rules, make a world where we don't need to atone or hide or pretend. ❞
A million sources to confirm Lucifer's fondness for deceit must ring true. Yet, Cain has never witnessed it first-hand. Back in oldest days was the former knight too busy wiping entire towns out to pay much attention to the puppeteer pulling those strings. Now, he watches Lucifer play an act with such perfection that it leaves him questioning everything he believed to know about him. About the fallen angel as he had known him. Unease creeps into his bones while this scenario unfolds afore him... his mien abruptly sobering as soon as the woman drops dead. But he doesn't flinch.
It should put him on high alert that not her dying upsets him, but moreso Lucifer's little show preceding her inevitable end. He's gradually straying from himself, from reason. " Impressive ", Cain hears himself mutter, ere he restores previously severed eye contact. Frowning. Yes, back then it did feel good to take lives— he'd hate to admit it now, free of the mark's curse, so he refuses to say it aloud.
" See, the difference between us is that I've always cut to the chase without further ado. Spot the target, finish it. " Unless said target deserves taunt to preface the bloodshed, which still would be about truth. " If you want me to feed them lies ", they both know who he refers to. " I'm afraid it is you who has to convince me that I won't regret our reunion. " One languid shrug later, he gestures to the body and exhales a quiet huff. " For what I just witnessed? Raises a remarkable measure of doubt. " Doubt that Lucifer truly values him as they did each other during long gone days.
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i cant tell you how much i ADORE this first episode of my beautiful man s2. there’s something about the pace of it, especially in hira and kiyoi’s interactions, the quick back and forth, hira saying something, kiyoi catching him out, hira backing down, kiyoi getting mad about that, hira stuttering to try and say the right thing. the way they interact is this seemingly endless cat and mouse going in circles around this big, huge centre thing that is ‘the point’. they both want to convey so much but neither can put the plain and simple words to it, hira is too much and kiyoi is too little. and yet they still have these moments, when they let the plain truth slip, hira saying you’re just too cute, or kiyoi earnestly asking hira not to leave him, it peels back at their true sentiment that’s always being danced around.
and the thing is, if you didnt watch the first season, this relationship could so easily be seen as bad bad really bad, the way they almost bicker and get mad, how kiyoi appears to pick at hira and gets mad so easily, how hira acts more like an avoid stalker than a boyfriend and always seems on edge or off in his head catastrophising. some people still might. i can see how it can be a difficult relationship to digest. its weird, awkward and uncomfortable at times, and almost absent of the usual softness of a bl couple. but thats why i adore it. because i think its so important and interesting to portray a different kind of relationship, even if maybe exaggerated to fit the king and servent original premise that hira still holds onto. bc the thing with these kinds of relationships is it doesnt matter what we think of it, whether we like it or think its ok, its about the people in it. some people are just different, they act differently, and interact differently, and thats ok if its ok for the people involved, and thats what i think the case is for hira and kiyoi. obviously they still have problems, this relationship isnt perfect, and i think this series is gonna show that, but thats also ok. just bc a relationship isnt perfect, doesnt mean it shouldnt exist. there has to be something there in the first place for it to be worked on. and there is. at the core of it all, these two people really really love and care about each other, they just express it differently, and maybe need to learn how to express it in a way that makes it easier and better for the other to feel it. maybe hira needs to let kiyoi off that pedastal, and maybe kiyoi needs to not view his feelings as this weird, gross thing. but that takes time, and i think is truly worth it.
and what makes it work and so thrilling and interesting to watch as a show is that kiyoi and hira somehow both encourage that detrimenal behaviour but are also so incredibly good for each other, and good at challenging that behaviour. hira wants to see kiyoi as a god and kiyoi wants to be loved, so he can be that godly figure. you can see it in this almost entitled way he acts, pushing hira around, even when he just sits down in the rocking chair, above hira, very mch the image of a king and his bowing servent. as someone that was starved of love as a child, he laps that up. but its when his feelings grow for hira that he realises he doesnt want to be some god or king, he just wants plain and simple, human, equal love. so he ends that scene lying on hira’s lap, lower than him, airing his insecurities of being abandoned and asking hira to stay with him, very much that lonely child wanting someone else’s love. not devotion, not sacrifice, just love. and its his feelings for hira that allow him to push hira in a good way, challenge him, bring him out of his shell, which he desperately needs. hira is so stuck in his head that he hasnt reared his head enough to learn how to act like an actual person. so used to blending into the background, he doesnt know how to be his own person and not an object or a piece of the furniture. you see it at the party, that he doesnt know enough small talk words to get through a conversation, let alone actually be himself and interact with others on an equal level. thats why he takes on this servent role, bc he’s never seen himself as enough of a person to be anything else. he can only be made real when characterised by his actions for others. kiyoi’s rejection of these roles means he can challenge hira to step up, to be on his level, and in that find himself. there’s hints, you can see it, in his love of phtography, when he talks about the moon, when he’s around others and even kiyoi and they have these softer moments where it feels like hes breathing and calm instead of stuttering and panting through an interaction and his brain is running a mile a minute. kiyoi has seen it too, and thats why he fell in love with him. ok, maybe he likes his eccentricities too, but he sees a person that he wants to be with, on equal terms, and in that he wants to pull hira up and see him be himself, realise himself as a person, just as much as he has to step down. and they dont explain these things plainly, voice that they want to help each other in this way, but you see it so clearly. its the subtext of this almost other language that they speak together thats full of twisted meanings and hidden intentions, at the heart of it is, like i said before, actual love and care for each other. do they need to get better at it? yes. but do they need to become our idea of a normal relationship to do that? no, absolutely not. after all, hira will always be hira, and kiyoi will always be kiyoi, and if they lost that, they’d lose themselves and their love for each other. so stay weird, stay unconventional, and stay yourselves, my beautiful couple.
#made by jemmo#my beautiful man#utsukushii kare#this started off as a rant and became a love letter to this show and these characters and their relationships#i just adore how unconventional it is#bc its really challenging to not impose what you think a nice healthy relationship should be onto a couple#but thats why its so interesting to watch#and almost makes their relationship that much more special#that theyre able to understand each other in this way#like this is what i call soulmates#two souls that were truly made to be together#and understand each other like no one else does#who fit together no matter how impossible and nonsensical it first seems#theyre weird and i wouldnt want them any other way
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certain qidian authors shld start a side hustle writing dnmei actually 🙂↕️
#男频不写男同还写什么 <- golden words to live by#*#fan xian/li chengze (qing yu nian):#written to be foils.. the mirror inverse of one another..the zhen baoyu to his jia baoyu#dislikes him on sight perhaps bc they r too similar souls#asks him not once but twice to bow out of the succession struggle bc if he does he promises to give him a lifetime of peace#“我许你一世平安” which in some contexts would be so romantic#begs him to live after his failed rebellion and of course lcz being who he is kills himself in front of him#更香的是他们还是同父异母的亲xiong dei😇#and bc u cant have enough hong lou meng references during their first meeting lcz’s delicate looks also remind him of lin daiyu..#and he wonders why he keeps thinking of him when he’s not even gayy (and i quote 好龙阳)#li huowang/zhuge yuan (dao gui yi xian):#his 白月光. his fleeting moment of respite in a truly horrific world#who sacrifices himself to save him from the powerful eldritch being after him#who he then strangles w his own two hands bc anyone who dies by his hands becomes part of his hallucinations so#at least he’ll still be with him in some capacity#hallucination!zgy tricks lhw in exchange for the survival of his country (所以T_T在渊子心里其实家国天下>>>🔥)#and feels so guilty abt it that he dissipates (perma death) leaving lhw to cry for three days straight at the bottom of a well#pulls himself together to fulfill zgy’s final wish of saving the people and when they ask his name he says zhuge yuan#builds a white jade buddha statue w/ zgy’s face for the ppl to worship#also he carries around a sword made from zgy’s spine and that brings him comfort#oh how could i ever forget pingxie (dmbj):#his lifetime in exchange for ten years of his innocence#“im a man with no past or future. if i disappeared from this world no one would notice” “at the very least i would notice”#“i’ve thought abt my connections to the world and it seems the only one i can find is you”#many such cases………..#if these were on jj literally吊打秒杀 the girlies (me) would EAT IT UPPP#QIDIAN YAOI📣📣📣📣
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Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before
of course ml!! tysm for asking <3
part 1 here~
contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows
gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck
both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,
“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying
“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging
“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,
“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child
“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”
satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right
he was a truly unforgettable fuck
“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,
“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall
he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,
“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left
“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,
gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,
“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,
“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,
“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,
“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,
“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,
“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,
your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,
“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru
continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features
“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing
coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,
“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”
———————————————————————
almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,
gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,
“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,
“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,
“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat
“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip
satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling
your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more
“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,
suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls
the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,
“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath
“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high
“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,
“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm
gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out
“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,
getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,
“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,
and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue
geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,
“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass
all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,
he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever
geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls
you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,
suguru coming around to sit by his head
when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face
gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,
“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps
geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”
#dom gojo believers don’t look#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru fic#gojou x reader#gojo fluff#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo x you#geto suguru drabble#geto suguru x reader#jjk suguru#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru#satoru x suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jjk geto#geto x reader#geto smut#satosugu#satosugu x reader
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Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!
mistake
Logan Howlett x fem!reader
a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.
No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead.
It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants.
Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse.
You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit.
Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits.
You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault.
As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim.
After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about.
“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight.
Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine.
You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look.
He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”
He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes.
The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror.
You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.
“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it.
You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”
“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face.
“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him.
You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.
Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you.
You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.
You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said.
You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same.
You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after.
You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle.
You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”
His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again.
“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to.
“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead.
But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”
“Kid, don’t do this-”
“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills.
His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself.
“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again.
“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”
You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands.
Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones.
Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.
The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore.
Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it.
You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her.
But what do you do?
You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her.
You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved.
It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved.
“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”
You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”
He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”
You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you.
You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them.
“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?”
You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”
You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage.
Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe.
As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again.
He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better.
You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years.
Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan.
It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house.
You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves.
Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home.
You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real.
It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up.
He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this.
He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them.
The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better.
You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad.
But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can.
In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real.
You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand.
He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.
He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do.
You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying.
He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch.
It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture.
But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself.
This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob.
He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything.
You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway.
You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since.
But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing.
He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt.
But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse.
You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.
You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better.
You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh.
Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive.
“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped.
He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you.
It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy.
“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns.
He’s going to leave.
You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight.
“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”
He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you.
It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room.
He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”
“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something.
And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him.
There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?
“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said.
“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now.
“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him.
“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face.
He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings.
You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in.
When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.”
You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte
@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium ♡
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett#the worst logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine imagine#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader#anon
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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list
@gutsby
⭒ Wedded Bliss
The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.
@samthemarvelfan
⭒ Bad Romance
In Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his.
@anonymityisfunwriter
⭒ Two Sides of the Same Coin
⭒ You're Losing Me
Your fairytale ending is crumbling before your eyes. You don't know how to love someone who can't tell you're dying. You fear you're fading away, begging him to do someone, say something, choose something. You fear he won't be able to resuscitate you this time. This time, he's losing you.
⭒ Alone Together
It was always been you and Bucky, alone together, you'd say. But suddenly, you're just alone.
⭒ Uptown Girl and the Brooklyn Boy
Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.
@pellucid-constellations
⭒ For the Love of the Game
Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.
@barnesafterglow
⭒ Friday (I'm In Love)
every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too
@sinner-as-saint
⭒ Tempestuous
With his kingdom flourishing in peace, and no threats from enemies; recently crowned King - James Buchanan Barnes sets out at sea. With his finest ship, the best crew ever recruited, and a deep desire to see whether the edge of the world truly exists; the King sets sail. Hoping to find the marvels of the ocean, to find beauty and magic even; however he ends up finding a fiery soul – one he cannot get enough of. But then again, no love story is ever perfect, is it?
⭒ Ruin
You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you.
⭒ A Sweeter Place
Years after a messy break-up, and now seeking stability, infamous mob boss James Buchanan Barnes finds himself reunited with an old flame of his. Instant guilt and regret wash over him when he finds out that his reckless ways back then, changed an innocent girl’s life forever.
⭒ You're No Saint
Steve and Bucky have been friends since they were young boys. They are inseparable, so naturally when you married Steve you were aware that Bucky came along with him. Every event, every vacation, even as the best man at your wedding - Bucky was always there, alongside you and Steve. He was one of your best friends as well, so you’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, ever. That is until one certain night, when you see something you’re not supposed to and you like it a little too much. You deny your desire towards Bucky, but Steve knows you better than anyone. He knows what you want and need, and he’s determined to fulfil your fantasy; because what his wife wants, she gets.
⭒ Run For Your Life
He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.
⭒ All Yours
One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting...
@mellowsaturns
⭒ In Losing Grip, on Sinking Ships
when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.
⭒ All to Myself
after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him
@renxzs
⭒ Redemancy
Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.
@cryptidcasanova
⭒ My Devotion
The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.
⭒ Loverboy
It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.
@subwaysurf45
⭒ She's Not Mad
Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.
@adrinktostopyourthirst
⭒ Sniper
Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.
⭒ Three Hundred
Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?
⭒ Variant
The chaos of the multiverse is quite literally holding up a mirror to Bucky. Turns out, it's very easy to get under someone's skin when you have a universal connection to them.
⭒ Underground
The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.
⭒ One Shot
Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.
⭒ Satisfied
Drunk sex with Bucky.
@thenhewaswrongaboutme
⭒ Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes
Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger.
⭒ Time Out
Need me a boy who is so needy and whiny when he cums inside for who knows how many times, and yet he still begs as soon as he's done "please, please again? I'll be good, I-I swear, I just need it so bad, just one more baby I promise–"
@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
⭒ After All This Time
impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.
⭒ Why Are You At The Wake?
Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.
⭒ The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me
A hurtful article in a low-budget gossip magazine throws your relationship with Bucky for a loop.
⭒ I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home
Bucky doesn't talk to you anymore, and he's less than enthusiastic when he runs into you out of the blue. But when he calls from a strange phone number, the puzzle pieces fall together.
@noceurous
⭒ Get You Back
You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.
@violentdelightsandviolentends
⭒ Honey Girl
The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
@notafunkiller
⭒ You Were Just Mine Yesterday
It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.
⭒ Out Of Style
A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.
@queers-gambit
⭒ Curiousity Killed The Cat
after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
@cherryblossom-heart
⭒ I Loved You Once
Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.
@rookthorne
⭒ Purity
Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried - the wings of a dove taking you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.
⭒ His Girls
Cars were all the same to you — classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same. Well, they were, until you were nonetheless forced to visit your local mechanic and saw the man that would pique your interest in not only every single make and model of classic car, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.
⭒ Hollywood Boulevard
All it took was one night, one song - hell, one note - and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn't help but follow him anyway - he was irresistible, after all.
@boxofbonesfic
⭒ You're Gonna Give Me Six
@gogolucky13
⭒ Mean It
You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.
@intrepidacious
⭒ Almost Believing
You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.
@buckybarnesdiaries
⭒ Please
Bucky needed to be spoiled.
@buckys-darling
⭒ Face The Sun
To ensure the prosperity of their two kingdoms, a determined Princess and reluctant King are to be wed. She is willing to commit, but he can’t seem to let his lover go.
⭒ Will You Love Me Tomorrow?
You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.
⭒ Electric
Flirtation has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn't last long when it comes to you.
@straywords
⭒ Kiss It Better
You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.
@little-miss-dilf-lover
⭒ Fifteen Minutes
@bucksfucks
⭒ The Feeling's Mutual
the amount of times you and bucky have seen each other masturbating is alarmingly high. might as well do it together.
@ellemj
⭒ Bigger Than He Was
Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.
⭒ Strawberries
Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?
⭒ Breathe
Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.
⭒ Flustered | part 2
Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.
⭒ Inevitable
While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.
⭒ Blurred Lines
When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.
⭒ Does It Hurt?
Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.
@viixenvi
⭒ Red
You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.
@ro-is-struggling
⭒ Self Care
Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.
@kinanabinks
⭒ Silent Girl
After a traumatizing event, you aren’t the friendliest or most talkative of people. Bucky understands, and in turn becomes the one person you soften your hard exterior for.
⭒ Special Girl
Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.
@angrythingstarlight
⭒ Roommate Bucky
@wkemeup
⭒ Cold, Cold Water
While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive.
⭒ Drunk On You
Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?
⭒ Honey and Chamomile
Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart.
⭒ Suburbia
Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.
⭒ Eclipse
When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.
⭒ Back to Bourbon Street
When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough.
@espinosaurusrexex
⭒ Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers
Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...
@navybrat817
⭒ Reconnect
Bucky Barnes is your best friend. You're also in love with him. After his recent breakup, the two of you get a chance to reconnect during a weeklong vacation together. Is it long enough to get your happy ending?
@dyspneagrime (wattpad & ao3)
⭒ No Privacy
You're stuck on a mission that never seems to end, in a completely destroyed studio apartment, with absolutely no privacy. And no privacy means- you haven't cum the whole time. Thing is, neither has the ancient, half-cyborg, psychopathic, hobo-lookin' asshole that you've been partnered up with.
⭒ Little Wing
The year is 1973. All Dove Rogers wanted was a relaxing summer. Just one last hoorah before being thrust into the adult life. Yet everything shifts when her new houseguest and long standing enemy- Bucky Barnes, arrives. In the thick of sun-kissed relaxation, the two of them are forced to face the awakening and burning desire growing between them.
⭒ Possessed
Margaret Everlee is a meek little thing. Living her life as a struggling artist in New York, trying to find her place in the world. That is until the formidable CEO with a dark past, James Barnes sets his sights on her. His infatuation is instantaneous, becoming a man obsessed with making her his own little doll.
@stardustdreams-andcaffeine
⭒ The Thin Line
Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.
@buckybabesonly
⭒ Wanna Be Yours
You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.
@lovelybucky1
⭒ Flirting and Football
@kurogxrix
⭒ Drunkenly In Love
you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.
@stxrvel
⭒ Hate Is A Strong Word
you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?
@kikixreverie
⭒ Its Called: Freefall
Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.
@brunchable
⭒ I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend
Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.
@thyme-in-a-bubble
⭒ Just For Tonight
before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”
@aquaticmercy
⭒ Sleeper
When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts.
⭒ My Own Soul's Warning
You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.
@skaye44
⭒ Coffee Companion
You and your friend Bucky enjoy going for coffee dates as friends. Bucky sees the names and numbers of two flirty baristas on your cups. He's jealous and wants to be the one you date, so he takes matters into his own hands.
@ultralightpoe
⭒ Juno
#marvel#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#“ass or tits?” bro A METAL ARM#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#tfatws#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#“i can change him” bitch why#hes a perfect menace to society and i love that#sebastian stan#mob!bucky#mob!au#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky x reader
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take my breath away
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.
a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy
wc: 1.3k
warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff
“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”
“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”
“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”
“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”
“You never did sports as a kid?”
“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”
Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”
“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”
“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”
Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.
You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.
(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)
Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.
His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.
“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”
“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”
“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”
“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”
You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”
“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”
“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.
He nodded. “How’d you know?”
“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”
Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”
“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”
“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.
“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”
“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”
He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”
“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”
“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.
“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”
“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”
Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”
You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”
“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”
For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”
“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”
You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.
When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.
“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”
Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”
“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.
“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”
“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”
Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”
“But my teasing’s okay?”
He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”
“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”
His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.
“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”
“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”
Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
#i know this scene in the show does not happen in s2 but i alsoooo do not care lol. canon continuity is dead to me in my fics#s2 spence my beloved<3#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#x reader#sadie writes
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A Study in Anchored Souls
Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k
MASTERLIST
NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!
———
ACT I: Girls' Night
Spencer Reid always knew he would die.
It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.
Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.
Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.
But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?
Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.
He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.
But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.
He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.
Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...
It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.
But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?
He didn't know.
Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.
He just wanted to rest.
Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.
Heavy on the small.
It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.
But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.
When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.
Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"
"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.
The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."
Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."
"Only one way to find out!"
Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?
As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."
Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.
"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"
"What?"
"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"
"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"
Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.
He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.
It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.
The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.
His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.
He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.
"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"
"Shit, I think you're right."
They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.
His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.
"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.
"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."
"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"
"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.
Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.
"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"
"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"
Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."
"I didn't move it!" said Robin.
"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"
"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"
"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"
"Robin!"
Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.
The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.
He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.
She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.
She was, in fact, not changing.
Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.
He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.
Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.
Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.
"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."
Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."
"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."
Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.
"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.
"F-B-I"
"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.
Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.
"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"
Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.
"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.
Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"
He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.
"See? Told you he was harmless."
"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."
He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.
His fingers moved again.
"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"
And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"
Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.
Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.
Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.
As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."
He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.
But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.
As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.
He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.
Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.
And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.
"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"
"Holy shit, let me see!"
Spencer made his way to the table to observe.
The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.
"Spencer, you were hot!"
Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."
Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."
"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"
"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."
Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."
He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.
Even if he couldn't yet.
ACT II: X's and Oh's
Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.
"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."
He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.
Eventually, he found small ways to do it.
He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."
Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.
"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."
If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.
He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...
Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.
"Hi, Spencer."
"Welcome home, Y/N."
She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.
Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.
Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.
"Spencer? Are you there?"
He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.
When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.
"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."
He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.
Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.
"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."
Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.
He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.
Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.
"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"
Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.
The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."
"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."
He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.
"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"
He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.
"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"
Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"
A circle.
"Is... that why you're here now?"
An X, and then a question mark.
"No... You don't know why you're here then?"
A circle.
Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"
Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.
"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."
He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.
Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.
"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."
She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.
Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"
Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.
"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."
Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.
He swallowed hard.
"Did you like what you saw?"
Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.
And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.
Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.
That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.
"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.
I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.
He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."
She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.
"Will you touch me, Spencer?"
His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.
He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.
"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.
"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.
Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.
"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"
At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...
The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.
He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.
Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.
And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.
He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.
She nodded. "Please."
Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.
Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.
"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.
"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.
He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.
And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.
The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.
He wanted more of it.
One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.
His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.
With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"
"Oh, God, please. Yes."
Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...
Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.
She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.
"Spencer, you're so— so good..."
He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.
God, her noises...
She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.
The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.
"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."
Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.
"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.
She wanted to see him
He wanted her to see him, too.
He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.
"Fuck, I can hear you..."
The words excited him greatly.
"Thank God."
Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.
"Please, Spencer, kiss me."
He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.
"You know what I mean. Come here..."
He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.
She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.
"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."
"Anything for you, sweet girl..."
She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.
"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.
Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."
He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.
"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."
They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."
He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.
"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."
She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.
"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"
"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.
"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."
How could he resist?
He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.
"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.
Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."
"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.
He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.
She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...
Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.
They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.
The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.
Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...
He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.
"You're perfect."
Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.
"You're beautiful."
Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...
He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.
"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."
"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.
With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."
Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.
For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.
ACT III: Unfinished Business
Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.
A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.
And he deserved to rest.
In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.
It was the only other option she had.
They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.
She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.
"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."
"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.
"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"
There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."
Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"
Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.
And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."
———
There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.
She was just afraid of being arrested.
Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.
"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.
Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.
Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.
For Spencer.
"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.
Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.
A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.
The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.
"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"
"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."
Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.
The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.
"Spencer."
"How... How did you know?"
"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"
Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."
Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."
She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."
Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"
Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."
"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"
She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.
"Tea would be lovely, thank you."
"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."
She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.
As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.
Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.
"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.
"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."
The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.
But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.
Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.
"Oh... I know that look."
Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.
"What look?"
"You think he's cute, don't you?"
"I... I don't..."
"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."
"How did you—"
"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.
Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."
"It wasn't a joke?"
Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.
"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."
She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.
"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."
Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.
"You sound... Sad about that."
She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."
"You're falling in love with him."
Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.
Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."
"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."
"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."
Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"
"He already knows. But yes. I will."
"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"
Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."
Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."
The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."
"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."
The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"
Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."
"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.
It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.
They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.
"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."
The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.
Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."
She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."
Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...
"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.
And... Then what?
There had to be another explanation.
"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"
"I... I guess," she sniffled.
"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."
It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"
"Positive."
Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.
So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.
———
Something was different about Y/N when she came home.
Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.
Still, she didn't seem right.
He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.
"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"No," she said unconvincingly.
"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."
Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."
She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.
It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"
Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.
He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.
It was complicated.
"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"
"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."
He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.
So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.
He told her, "I love you."
Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.
He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.
"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"
Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"
"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."
She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.
"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."
She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."
He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.
"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."
"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."
"And I would have refused."
"And I would have kissed you ."
"And I would have kissed you back."
"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."
"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."
She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."
"And I think I'm inclined to agree."
THE END
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid#mercy after hours
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holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.
Word/Insured Part 2
Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader
☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!
☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it
☆ 4,5k words
☆ gender-neutral reader
☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst
☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops
☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!
☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3
✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same.
✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.
✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford.
✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes.
✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears.
✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved.
✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands.
✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.
✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!”
✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.
✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!”
✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?”
✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”
✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”
✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford, buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on.
✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.”
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#gravity falls#gravity falls x reader#stanford pines x reader#stanford pines#stanley pines x reader#ford pines#stan pines x reader#stan pines#stanford pines x sibling!reader#stanley pines x sibling!reader#ford pines x reader#stan pines x sibling!reader#ford pines x sibling!reader#mable pines x reader#dipper pines x reader
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you: an absolute teeth-aching bone deep want to be loved and to give love. that hollow feeling behind your chest is too familiar and you want it gone. you just want to be in love, to treat someone with gentleness and to be wanted.
your 141 bae who has been in love with you since the moment he met you: ...i'm right here
gn!reader headcanons below the cut:
childhood best friend simon: let's say you knew him before he lost his family. a scrawny-limbed blond, always willing to extend a trip to the park or a cigarette behind school - anything to not go home. you'd visit him when he started part-time as a butcher in high school, wrinkling your nose at the smell of bloody meat but staying anyways, doing your homework at the singular table in the shop. he was there when you moved away from town, for college or a new job or any life-altering decision that he was secondary to, something simon could only hope to grasp. once he leaves for the military, you mourn your relationship and move on. simon is a blur in your mind, a reminder of snow days and sweet tea summers and leaf piles and dandelion picking, on a nostalgic shelf in the untouched corners of your brain. ten years later, you've finally made a name for yourself and truly gotten out; grown roots. but you still have this soul-deep yearning, some unfamiliar-shaped hole in your chest that miraculously fills when you open your door to simon, a grown man who's tired of wanting you from afar. tired of stalking your social media and writing fantasies in his head. tired of picking people to fuck just because they look like you, then going soft halfway through because their voice isn't the right pitch. he's here, and he's ready to do whatever it takes.
best friend gaz: now this is different from a childhood best friend, so keep that in mind. gaz is always this guy-next-door type with a panty-dropping smile and impeccable manners. this notion does him some good, helps him avoid some deep-rooted british military prejudices, but it also turns you away. you check him off as nice and place him in the best friend box. you don't understand how he tracks your every move on a mission, almost always getting caught by johnny or price. you miss how he grips his pint ten times harder when he sees you on the pub floor, dancing with some stranger whose hands are a bit too low. he tells you he gets rejected for being "too nice", but really, he ignores his 27 unread DMs and flirty cafe eye contact in favor of movie nights, prank wars, your shitty reality shows. he's grasping onto straws, can't you see sweetheart? when you're drunk and turn into a cuddler, he can pretend just for a second that you truly mean it. gaz lets your hands wander under his shirt, lets you murmur your darkest fear of never being loved into the quietness of your room, leaving you to sleep on top of your covers with a kiss to the forehead. he doesn't know what's pushed him over: you almost dying on that last mission, you making out with a stranger in a bar, you you you in those pants and that shirt and that's it. he has to say something. has to put it all on the line because gaz can't live like this anymore.
best friend's brother price: it was some one-sided crush, your best friend's brother with his suave teenage ways as compared to your brutal tween phase, acne and braces on the way. it had dissipated quickly, john never the wiser, his presence substituted with trendy band obsessions and first kisses. instead, it happened at your best friend's wedding. you were both in the wedding party, some object of fate throwing you together as your best friend forced you two to dance. you were tipsy on champagne, on the happiness of marriage, that you giddily admitted your fleeting childhood crush and how much john had grown since then. and that was it. john was always going to settle down, always going to have a pretty thing waiting for him back home, he just didn't figure out until right now that it would be you. he tries to hide his affections under friendliness, not wanting to ruin your friendship with his sibling, but john has never been discrete. he's suddenly invading your life with offers of fixing your kitchen sink, painting that one spot you can't reach, moving your couch to fit your latest pinterest board. you're practically family, love - which kills all your hopes for something more, feeling like a familyzone. but john means it differently, means you're predestined to be his, already accepted and loved by his loved ones and how could he not see it before? you refuse to accept his kindness and it absolutely kills him, so he scares off potential dates and any chance of meet-cutes with an arm around your waist and why can't you see him the way he sees you?
friends with benefits johnny: it was just sex, right? you'd been the one to say it, the one to set that boundary with your fellow sergeant. you didn't think johnny was capable of more, mistaking his cheeky smirks and booming laugh for being unserious, when in reality, johnny is as serious as it gets. he tells himself he can fuck you because he'll marry you one day, that cross sitting heavy under his shirts. he doesn't wash his sheets for weeks after that first fuck, too busy inhaling the scent of you cumming around his mouth, his cock. that is, until, you tell him his sheets stink and refuse to fuck him and he pretends you're having an argument as a married couple, all intimate and bored. johnny sees a recruit getting too flirty and pulls you into a supply closet using his best distraction methods. he sways you from joining a month's long solo mission, some stupid excuse about missing your lips too much when really he knows it's a suicide mission. johnny forces you to stay over after a midnight fuck, some bullshit about simon being up at that time and seeing you in the hallway on base. in reality, he treasures cuddling you with his brawny arms, pretending you're his willingly. pretending he's made peace with you, this wild creature, never tamed but understood. he can't force himself to ask for more, too scared to lose the crumbs he's holding onto. johnny tries to hide it with a fiery personality and a thick accent, but inside? he's a complete goner.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#cod 141#tornadothoughts#ghost call of duty#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#captain john price#john price x reader#captain price x reader#141 x reader#141 headcanons#fluff
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HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???
Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?
THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT
-🐚
Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]
In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.
When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed
You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face
It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow
You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way
He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord
Truly a shame
You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged
Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort
But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you
You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice
The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you
Something about it was so familiar
J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R
When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing
Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device
Unless you did it just for him?
R-K-J-E-R-K-J
" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "
Y-O-U
Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk
And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method
One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display
Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw
" COMATOSE. "
You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious
Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!
But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel
He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that
Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them
Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before
But he'd never heard of something like yours
Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle
You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved
Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures
After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!
While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you
From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction
Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled
He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear
But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with
Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to
Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of
Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites
The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you
But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats
" Silence. "
From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking
The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left
Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!
Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?
YOUR POWERS DID THAT???
He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too
Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!
#koko writez#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#hazbin hotel x reader#helluva boss x reader#reader insert#x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#vox#vox x reader
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In my dreams
Seungmin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. my interpretation of in my dreams by tearliner, love X stereo.
Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.
skz song series
cw: reader has anxiety and deals with lots of self-doubt and insecurities.
a.n: the end of our skz song series!! and a pretty personal final fic, this one is based on my own experience with anxiety, so it might differ for everyone :) thank you for reading as always <3
You watch, a soft smile on your face as two little girls play with one another in the playground. It reminds you of simpler times, when you could just walk up to another human and become friends with them instantly.
But reality is much more challenging, especially for someone like you, constantly plagued by their anxious thoughts.
Anxiety didn't tiptoe into your life, one drop at a time so you'd get accustomed to its overwhelming presence. Instead, you woke up one day and it barged into you, through cracks and dents you didn't even know existed in your being, and then it made itself a permanent home within the confines of your heart.
You never truly learned how to live with this parasite feeding off your soul, draining you completely until you became a mere shell of who you once were. You never fully adjusted to the invisible hands choking you from within, to the voice nagging you in the back of your mind, telling you that something horrible was bound to happen.
Because nothing ever went wrong, day after day, nothing bad happened. And yet, the feeling of dread persisted and lingered until you started to believe that the problem was you.
And once you opened the door to self-doubt, you could never fully close it again.
You're too overwhelmed, too nervous, too much of everything bad. Your conversations are scrutinized, down to every syllable you uttered, to the way you smiled and how you laughed. The interactions might differ but the regret that haunts you after is the same.
So, you diluted your being, in an effort to be more acceptable, easier in the lives of the people around you. You believed that if you pleased everyone you ever encoutered then at the end you must satisfy yourself too.
You sigh softly, drumming your fingers along your knee. You’re starting a new year in college tomorrow. Your first one wasn't exceptional by any means. Aileen, the girl who sat beside you from time to time was nice, and you grabbed coffee sometimes as you prepared for your exams together. But she had other friends, ones she's much closer to, ones she invited to her birthday party, ones who she didn't simply fill her free time with.
You shake your head, putting a stop to the thoughts in your head before they get too much once again, pushing you over an edge you don't want to be in right now.
You'll try harder this year. You'll be okay, for once.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
Your professor Lee is scribbling something on the large whiteboard, as he waits for the class to fill up. Someone sits next to you, and the smell of their cologne wafts to your nose- hints of vanilla and wood seemingly calming down your nerves. You quickly take a glance at them, to find a guy with long brown hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He's taking out his notepad from his bag, and you smile at the chick keychain he has on it. He catches you looking and you quickly avert your gaze, heat creeping up your cheeks.
"Hi, I'm Felix," he greets enthusiastically, and you turn your head slowly to be met with his wide grin. It softens his features, making his eyes turn into moon crescents. You envy his ability to smile without overthinking how he looks.
"Yn," you introduce back, and he nods, the grin still etched on his face. "You were in my Economics class last year, no?" he asks and you tilt your head to the side, as you mull over his question.
"I was but I don't remember seeing you," you admit sheepishly and he waves a hand in the air, not bothered the least by your words.
"It's okay, I just remembered your presentation on Inflation. I finally understood why we can't just print more money," he admits with a chuckle, and you giggle against your will.
"I don't blame you, it sounds like an easy solution," you agree, and his eyes widen.
"Right! when I tell my friends they just stare at me in disappointment."
You laugh at his adorable pout, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within your chest. He's nice.
"I'm glad I helped you then, I was so nervous presenting it," you clear your throat as he smiles impressively at you. "Really? I couldn’t tell at all."
Mr. Lee calls for your attention and you both turn your heads back to the board. You couldn’t really focus, Felix’s words echoing in your head like a broken mantra- he couldn’t tell you were nervous. A sudden relief dawns on you at the possibility that, maybe, not everyone is aware of the neverending storm raging within you, threatening to drown you at any giving moment.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
"Movie night at my dorm?" Felix proposes as he packs up his bag, your two hours long class finally done.
"Will Seungmin be there?" you ask, a slight edge to your voice and Felix pauses, shaking his head at you.
"Yn, you're overreacting. I promise he doesn't hate you."
"Have you ever seen him smiling at me?" you ask, arching your eyebrow expectantly at him. He stays silent and you wiggle your finger in the air. "Exactly! Please tell me he won't be there."
"About that... He's helping me bake the cookies," Felix smiles sheepishly and you groan, falling dramatically on your seat.
"I’m not coming."
"But the cookies," Felix pouts, and the promise of the chewy baked goods is so enticing it makes you second-guess your decision.
"The cookies...," you whine, and Felix giggles grabbing your hand to pull you up.
"I’ll see you at 5?"
"Yes," you concede, a small smile on your lips. You wait until Felix bids you goodbye for it to finally slip from your face.
Seungmin has never liked you, from the moment Felix introduced you to him. You still remember it clear as day, the way his eyes slightly widened when they fell on you, before narrowing down. How he didn't utter a single word when Felix left you both alone to get your drinks. Your panic grew as an uncomfortable silence reigned on the both of you, and you racked your brain for something to say to cut through that eerie quiet.
"Seungmin, right?" you asked, a bit too cheerfully, and you winced inwardly at your tone. He didn't reply, only humming back. It was so faint you wouldn't have caught it had you not been staring at him intently.
"What's your major?" Your voice cracked.
"Computer science." He replied curtly, and you waited patiently, expecting him to return the question. He didn't. And you shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Maybe he just didn't do well with strangers. Maybe he wasn't a chatty person, to complement Felix's extroverted nature.
But you were wrong. You watched in complete astonishment as he teased Felix relentlessly, a wide smile on his face. It made his eyes soften, a newfound fondness itching itself on his expressions. He laughed and he joked and you felt yourself shrink more and more, this way he wouldn't notice you anymore, wouldn't glare at you as if you did something horribly wrong to him.
Felix tried to include you as best as he could in their conversation, but you tuned it out. It was hard to focus on their talk when there was a tumultuous one ongoing in your mind. Seungmin's behavior just further cemented every horrible idea you held about yourself. There is something wrong about you, and he can see it. You may have fooled Felix but you didn't fool Seungmin. If you were him you wouldn't talk to you either.
Every encounter with Seungmin since then left you feeling fifteen years old again, in a classroom full of unkind eyes zeroed on you. You tried to talk about his interests, to string along a normal conversation, one that would reassure that your first encounter was a wrongful impression.
But he did not like talking to you, only offering short replies in response. It’s as if his tongue was tied in your response, and in return it only magnified the knot in your stomach. You went through every conversation with him a million times in your head, trying to pinpoint what exactly went wrong. What warranted him to be so silent in your presence, and yours only, as if you weren’t worthy of a simple conversation. And the answer always tied back to you.
So, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past month, sparing him the chore that is existing near you. It was particularly hard since Felix was his best friend and roommate, and surprisingly he actually enjoyed spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time before Felix started to hate you too.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
"You're moving too much," Seungmin chastises and you freeze in your place at his words. You are sitting on the couch of Felix’s dorm later on that day, a horror movie playing in the small TV before you. Felix decided to lay on the floor, buried in a pool of yellow blankets, and a long pillow that weirdly had the picture of one of their friends printed on it. "It's my safety net," he explained and you didn't question him any further.
For some reason, Seungmin decided to sit next to you, instead of the opposing couch. Granted, he can see the TV more clearly from here, still this is the first time he willingly went somewhere near you, let alone talked to you.
You decide to ignore him, too focused on predicting the next jump scare, your feet tapping the floor furiously. But still, it happens so abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from you, anf you clutch the edge of the couch even tighter.
"Close your eyes," Seungmin speaks suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at him, confused.
"There is a jump scare coming soon," he clears his throat, "just... close your eyes if you don't want to see it."
You comply without much thought and soon enough, you can hear a shrill scream coming from the screen. He was right.
"It passed," he says softly, and you tentatively open your eyes once again. There is a foreign expression on Seungmin's face, one you haven't seen before, but it passes as quickly as it came, like a dream slipping between your fingers as soon as you wake up.
"How did you know?" you ask, hugging your knees tightly to your chest.
"I already watched this movie."
"Really? Why are you watching it again?"
"Because. I had nothing better to do," he says, almost defensively, his hand now covering his mouth as if he had to physically stop the words from spilling out.
You don't reply, turning back to look at the screen. Seungmin doesn't tell you when a jump scare is coming next, he simply taps your arm, and you close your eyes on cue.
His hand brushing against your bare skin feels weird, not uncomfortable by any means, but it still is a foreign sensation. You didn't know he had such soft hands, and you always imagined them to be cold. But they are warm, and you wonder what other things about Seungmin you've been wrong about.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
"I'm so tired," Felix groans, laying his head on your shoulder and you giggle, patting his head in mock sympathy. It's been three months since the start of your year, which means that the assignments are starting to pile up on you all.
"Me too," you sigh, and Seungmin stays silent next to you. Felix dragged you both to this coffeeshop, a little outing to recharge his spirit, as he texted you. You're slowly getting used to Seungmin's brooding presence. He talks to you a little more, even cracking a few jokes here and there. But you’re still wary of him. You keep your guard up just in case he forcefully brings a mirror to your face once again, reminding you of everything you despise about yourself.
"I'll go order, it's my treat. Pick a place for us?" Felix says and you nod, walking ahead of Seungmin towards a table near the back.
You sit down first, and Seungmin follows second, sitting right across from you. You quickly bring out your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the apps to distract yourself from the man in front of you.
"You have a presentation tomorrow, right?" Seungmin speaks up, startling you, and you slowly put your phone down.
"Yes, how did you know?"
"Felix told me that it makes up 25% of your grade. Are you nervous?"
"A little," you admit, even though ‘a little’ didn't even begin to cover it.
"Don't be. You'll do well," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You almost feel as if you've imagined it before it dissipates.
"Thank you," you nod, as Felix brings the tray down your table.
"Is this for me?" you ask tentatively, pointing to the strawberry milkshake, a sore thumb sticking out between the iced americano, and the hazelnut Frappuccino, Seungmin’s and Felix’s respective go to orders.
"They got the order wrong. I got you an iced matcha," Felix pouts, double checking his receipt.
"It's okay," you smile slightly. There was nothing you despised more than having to change up your order.
"You don't want to drink this," Seungmin says, staring at you expectantly and you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "I don't mind."
Seungmin stands up, grabbing the drink from your hand before taking the receipt from the table. He goes to the counter and you watch in astonishment as he comes back, a green drink in hand this time.
"Here," he hands you your cup, before grabbing his own and sipping from it. Your drink is cold, but the warm tingles spreading through your being at his sweet gesture outweigh any other feeling.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
Talking in front of 267 people never gets easier.
You memorized your presentation; you rehearsed it so much you could probably recite it with your eyes closed. Yet, the nerves still found a way to weave themselves inside you. Your hands were shaking, so much you couldn't even stare at the notes you prepared. Your palms were sweaty, blood rushing rapidly to your ears, tuning out your voice as you spoke.
You can’t even recall what you said exactly, it’s as if your body had a mind of its own, your mouth moving itself without you commanding it. You aren’t sure how it was, but someone smiled at you reassuringly from the first row, and the professor clapped, so you assume you did okay.
The class finally ends, your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving in their trail an excruciating exhaustion. You rub your eyes tiredly, as you slowly walk out of the door, before stopping in your tracks when you notice Seungmin leaning against the wall, hands buried in his varsity jacket.
His eyes are closed, a pair of earphones dangling across his chest. But then, as if he feels you looking at him, he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on you. You stay put in your place as he walks to you, his bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. He hooks his thumb underneath the strap, keeping it in place
"How was it?" he questions, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he was asking about. Your presentation. Was he waiting for you?
"I think I did well?" you reply, but it comes out more of a question to which he giggles softly.
"Are you asking me?" he teases and you roll your eyes playfully. "I did well," you repeat and he smiles, nodding a bit. "I’m sure you did. Here." He opens his bag, taking out your favorite chocolate bar from it- it had bits of caramelized pistachio and almonds in it. Seungmin doesn’t like it, he prefers plain milk chocolate, as Felix told you one day.
"Eat this, I ended up buying two by mistake, I still have an extra one at the dorm." You grab it from his hands, and he quickly leaves before you could properly thank him.
≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋
You always dread the days you'd wake up with a heavy weight crushing your chest.
You try to distract yourself, try to focus in class and take notes. You try to laugh at Felix's jokes and savor the brownies he just brought you. But you can't. It feels as if you're a cup filled to the brim, each passing second bringing you closer to when that fateful drop would finally make you overflow. And you could do nothing but watch yourself unravel.
Seungmin's eyes never leave you, and it only makes your anxiety spike. It feels as if he's peering inside your soul, witnessing how a cord ties itself around your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You can't speak anymore, every word you say threatening to make tears spill out of your eyes. You aren't sure you can make them stop if they ever start falling.
Nothing happened, nothing's happening, you try to remind yourself. But you are scratching your hand incessantly, and you feel an overwhelming need to flee. To run away, somewhere where only you would witness the display of your broken soul. So you sputter a meek excuse, and then you stand up and head to your dorm.
It's raining outside, and you don't have an umbrella. But you are grateful for it, since the rain mingles with your salty tears, shielding them from the curious eyes of the people passing by. You need to get home, you need to hide somewhere and you need to remember how to breathe-
"Yn," a hand grabs your forearm and you startle, instinctively taking two hurried steps back. It's Seungmin. He removed his blue hoodie and he's now placing it over both of your heads.
"What are you doing? You'll get sick," he sounds mad, and you can't take his disappointed tone anymore.
"I'm having a bad day and I don't need you to make it worse," you say, startling yourself with the raw emotion in your voice.
He physically recoils from your words, his arms faltering as he gazes at you, a wounded look in his eyes. "I make your days worse?" he asks quietly and his voice sounds so small, you can't help the regret that courses through you.
"Come on, Seungmin," you chuckle warily, "don't you hate me?"
"No?"
"Hate is a strong word, okay. You dislike me."
"I don't. Why would you think that?"
"Because you never wanted to talk to me, from the moment we met. And it wouldn't matter if you were this way with everyone, but it's only me. And you make me feel so small each time I'm around you," you ramble angrily, as Seungmin's eyes widen with each passing second.
"Yn, yn, I don't- I didn't know you felt this way, but I don't hate you. I truly don't, I promise you," he's panicking, voice growing higher with each word, and you feel a sudden embarrassment flood your being for lashing out at him.
You don't know what to say and he sighs, looking up at the cloudy sky before meeting your eyes once again.
"This is embarrassing, God, um..." he places his hoodie on top of your head before running a hand through his face. "I don't talk to you because you make me nervous."
"I do?"
"Yes. A lot," he chuckles, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. "I just... I find you very interesting, and funny, and I like watching you, not in a creepy way, my God what am I saying," he whines, hiding his face in his hands and you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth.
"Don't laugh," he pouts and you nod, willing the smile to disappear from your face.
"I like watching you exist. Just laugh and smile and talk. You look very pretty doing it. I just don't know how to deal with it. That's on me."
This time the smile is effectively gone from your face. The weight of his confession distracting you from the turmoil of emotions that swirled within you.
"I'm sorry, for making you feel that way. I never meant to. For what it's worth, you make me feel like a small kid again, as if I'm having a crush for the first time."
A fresh wave of tears brims in your waterline, and Seungmin's eyes soften at the sight.
"Please don't cry," he says, gently wiping the rain droplets from your cheeks. "I don't hate you, I think I like you too much and that's the problem."
I'm sorry I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away
"Okay," you say quietly, your mind not yet registering what he said, too busy focusing on his hands on your face. You can't believe you've ever felt invisible because of Seungmin, when he's looking at you like you're the most precious being in the world.
"You had a bad day?" he asks, his knuckles brushing against your cheek tenderly, and you nod, silently.
"Would you like a hug?" he asks, and you nod again. A hug sounded nice.
He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. His t-shirt is cold, clinging to his now wet skin. But a surprising warmth emanates from his chest, shielding you from the pouring rain- it travels from his body to yours, as if it's a familiar path, one it underwent a million times before. His hand finds your back, and he pats it gently, following a soothing rhythm, one you try to sync your breathing to. "You did well," he whispers, "you always do well," and his words feel like a patch of shade on a scorching day.
You exhale softly, tightening your arms around his waist. You think you can stay here, for a while. You could rest in Seungmin, now and tomorrow, and maybe for the following months. If he still likes you this much.
Bonus
"I'm ready," Seungmin says, his soft hair tickling your bare skin. He's laying on top of your stomach, black tie undone, a piece of crumpled paper in his hands. You can tell he's nervous, with the way he looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. You lean down, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head. He closes his eyes, his hold on the yellowed paper slightly faltering.
"I'm all ears," you whisper, and he smiles softly at you, before looking at his written vows- the ones you decided to read to each other after your wedding ceremony, just the two of you, in your personal bubble. It feels much more intimate this way, they are words meant for you only to hear, after all.
"My love," he starts, and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay. "If I'm reading this it means I finally married you, which is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life." You giggle and he can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh.
"I am writing these vows one year into our relationship, I haven't proposed yet, but I just know you're the one I want to marry. And I suppose I don't want to forget everything I want to say to you, when that day comes." His words make your breath hitch in your throat as realization dawns on you- he wrote this three years ago, and he kept it safe, till this day.
"I still remember when I saw you for the first time. I couldn't talk because you looked so pretty, and you were smiling at Felix and I felt an overwhelming need to be the one you were smiling at. I think you cast a spell on me because I couldn't even ask you about your major back, I couldn't believe how awestruck I was. But you already know this, don't you?" He looks up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and you smile widely. You still remember when Seungmin recounted the first time you met, from his perspective. Rosy cheeks and fumbling words as he explained how much he felt for you in that instant, and how little he could express it.
"But there are still things I haven't told you," he clears his throat. "Like how Felix told me what horror movie he was planning to watch with you, and I looked it up the night before, to memorize all the jump scares just in case you were afraid. And you were, and I'm glad I did. I don't even like horror movies, but it was worth watching it three times in a row, just for you."
"Also, how I had to run out of my class to yours, so I'd catch you after the end of your presentation. I bought that chocolate only for you. I kept a stack of fifteen bars hidden in my desk, just in case you were feeling down, and you ended up needing it. I kept asking Felix about everything you liked, and disliked, and he was probably sick of me at that time," he chuckles, as memories of begging his roommate for any bit of information about you flooded his mind.
"I don't know how far into the future it'll be when I'll finally read this to you. I don't know how I'll be, or where I'll be, but as long as you're with me then I must be okay. I used to overthink everything, plan every part of my life so it'd run smoothly. That is until you came into my life, so suddenly, and you flipped it upside down. I didn't care to plan my life anymore, all that mattered is that it revolved around you," he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.
"I knew I wanted to marry you when you took me stargazing. You talked about the stars and galaxies so excitedly. And then you brought up Saturn; how it was unique among the planets, adorned with thousands of ringlets. And I remember thinking that you're my saturn, you're the dazzling planet that everyone admires and I'm the ring spinning around you, the one you're keeping afloat. And as long as you're here, I have a purpose and I'm okay. So please..." his voice wavers, as silent tears slip out of his eyes.
"Don't leave me. I know we're married now, but still, don't leave me. I love you. I feel like I've loved you in different lifetimes, in different earths and timelines. Everything can come crashing down around us, but one thing that'll forever remain the same is my love for you. I was made to love you, after all. My eyes were made to look at you, and my hands to graze your cheeks. And my heart... My heart was made to beat for you. And I love you. I feel like I don't say it enough but I truly love you. As long as I'm breathing then I'm yours."
#seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x you#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz angst#stray kids angst#seungmin fluff#seungmin angst#kim seungmin imagines#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#skz fanfic#seungmin fanfic#seungmin fic#skz soft hours#skz au#skz x y/n#stray kids x y/n#skz song series#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#skz soft thoughts#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids soft hours
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Green With Envy
Agatha Harkness x Familiar! Reader
AO3: Green With Envy
Summary: You served as Agatha’s familiar, bound to her by magic and loyalty. As you journey together down the witches' road, Rio, another witch, begins to take an interest in you, much to Agatha's displeasure.
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Possessive behavior, jealousy, suggestive themes, light dom/sub
The witches' road stretched endlessly before you, a winding, leaf-strewn path bordered by towering trees with gnarled branches that twisted overhead, creating a canopy of shadows.
Agatha walked ahead, her posture tense, shoulders rigid beneath the folds of her deep blue coat. Her gaze was razor-sharp, fixed on the road ahead, though you could sense something simmering beneath the surface. The usual confidence she exuded was strained, her energy taut like a drawn bowstring.
You followed closely behind, careful to stay within reach of her.
The bond between you and Agatha thrummed beneath your skin, a constant, unspoken connection that had always defined your role as her familiar. It wasn’t something you could easily describe; it was beyond words. It linked your soul to hers, a deep and intimate tether that allowed you to sense her energy, her thoughts, her emotions, as if they were your own. And today, they’re complicated – more complicated than usual, because of a certain green witch that had crawled out of Sharon’s grave like a ghost from the past.
Her presence unsettled Agatha, stirring up memories best left buried. You could tell she was trying to maintain her composure, but her agitation rippled through the bond, making your own pulse quicken in response.
Speaking of the green witch – Rio, if you remembered her name correctly – had started to drift closer to you, a little too close for your comfort. Her long strides matched yours, as if she were deliberately trying to invade the space between you and Agatha. Though her demeanor seemed playful, an almost carefree air surrounding her, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more calculated lay beneath. It was in the way her eyes, ever watchful, kept wandering toward you, their intensity impossible to ignore. And each time you met her eyes, a slow, sly smile would curl at the corners of her lips. Her interest wasn’t subtle, nor did she try to hide it. It was clear and unapologetic.
You did your best to avoid locking eyes with her, focusing on the other members of the coven or on Agatha’s form just a few steps in front of you, but Rio’s presence clung to you like a shadow.
“Quite the loyal familiar you’ve got there, Agatha.” Rio purred, her voice low and laced with amusement. Her gaze, predatory and assessing, flickered briefly toward Agatha before sliding back to you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle with unease. “Where did you two meet?”
Agatha’s reaction was subtle but unmistakable. She stiffened ever so slightly beside you, her body becoming tense as though preparing for a confrontation. Her hand brushed against your arm as if she wanted to remind Rio – and perhaps even you – of whom you truly belonged to.
“That’s none of your business.” Agatha replied, her voice cold and cutting. Her dark eyes flashed with a dangerous edge as they fixed on Rio, daring her to test her patience any further.
But Rio only smirked, undeterred by Agatha's icy response.
“So, how’s it been, being Agatha’s... familiar?” Rio’s voice dripped with a smooth, almost silky tone. She leaned in ever so slightly, a smirk playing on her lips as her gaze lingered on you, waiting – no, daring you – to speak. “Must be quite the experience, being bound to her.”
Before you could respond, you felt a sudden shift beside you. Agatha's hand shot out, quick as lightning, gripping your wrist with a firm, almost possessive touch that sent a jolt through your entire body. Her skin was cool against yours but the strength behind her hold burned like a brand, as if she were marking her claim on you.
“Careful, Rio,” Agatha warned, her voice low and steady. “My familiar knows exactly where her loyalties lie, so don’t even try.”
The air between the two witches crackled with barely restrained energy, the tension thick enough to be felt in the pit of your stomach. Rio’s gaze continued to remain locked on yours, as though Agatha's warning was nothing more than an amusing game to her. A challenge waiting to be taken up. Rio’s lips twitched, the beginnings of laughter threatening to spill over, though she held it back just enough to let the tension stretch further. With a dramatic flair, Rio raised her hands, palms outward in a gesture of mock surrender, as if to say she meant no harm, though the smirk on her face told an entirely different story. The theatrical display only seemed to intensify Agatha's fury further before she dropped her hands back to her sides.
“So protective.” Rio’s voice came out in a soft, almost singsong tone.
In response, Agatha's grip tightened. She yanked you closer, pulling you flush against her side. She leaned in, her breath warm against the sensitive skin of your ear.
“I want you to stay away from her, understood?” Agatha murmured, her voice a low, threatening growl. “You belong to me. Don’t you forget that.”
Your heart thudded violently against your ribcage, as if trying to break free from the pressure building inside of you. The heat of both witches' gazes bore into you, and you swallowed hard, the movement painful as your throat clenched tight, dry with apprehension.
“Yes, Mistress.” The words tumbled from your lips, soft and breathless, barely more than a whisper.
Agatha’s lips curled into a smug smirk. “Good.” She cooed, the single word dripping with satisfaction.
Agatha cast a sidelong glance at Rio as she leaned in further, her lips so close to your ear that you could feel the soft brush of them. Just as her teeth were about to nip playfully at your earlobe, the moment was shattered by a loud, deliberate throat-clearing.
Startled, all three of you turned, eyes snapping to Lilia, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the scene. Her expression was as uncomfortable as her interruption. Behind her, the rest of the coven shuffled around nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. Their faces were a mix of concern and curiosity, eyes flickering between you, Agatha, and Rio.
“We need to get a move on.” Lilia said, clearly eager to get away from this situation.
Heat crept into your cheeks as you realized the coven had been watching this spectacle unfold. You lowered your gaze, wishing for the road to swallow you up whole, to disappear from this moment.
Agatha let out an exasperated sigh. Without uttering a single word, she tightened her grip around your wrist, her fingers firm and unyielding as she forcefully pulled you along. Rio, meanwhile, merely flipped her dark hair over her shoulder, a knowing smile still playing on her lips. It was as if the interruption hadn’t bothered her in the slightest.
As she trailed behind, you could feel Rio’s gaze lingering on your retreating form.
***
The campfire crackled softly, casting a dim orange glow on the surrounding trees. The night air was crisp, carrying the fresh scent of pine and earth. Around the fire, the others lay in deep slumber, their makeshift beds of leaves and branches scattered in a rough circle.
Agatha made sure that Rio was far from the two of you, positioning herself strategically next to you to keep a watchful eye on the witch’s every move.
The stillness of the night was almost absolute, broken only by the occasional pop of the fire. Its warmth, though faint, was the only barrier against the biting chill that threatened to seep into your bones. Lying on your side, exhaustion clung to your limbs, making your body feel heavier with each passing moment. Yet, just as sleep began to tug at your consciousness, you felt a shift – Agatha stirring beside you.
A second later, the front of her body was pressed firmly against your back. Her breath, warm and steady, caressed the nape of your neck, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. One of her hands, soft yet deceptively strong, slipped across your abdomen, her fingers splaying out with deliberate ownership. Agatha began tracing slow, languid circles over your shirt, the movement deliberate and enticing, sending waves of heat coursing through your body despite the chilly night air.
“M-Mistress?” You stuttered quietly, the word escaping your lips in a barely audible whisper.
Agatha gently shushed you, her voice low and soothing. Then, she moved, turning you onto your back in one smooth, effortless motion. Her body shifted, and suddenly she was straddling you, her legs pinning you down with a delicious weight. Your pulse raced as she loomed over you, her wild, untamed brown hair cascading around you like a curtain, enclosing you in a world that belonged to the two of you alone. The flickering firelight illuminated her face just enough to highlight the sharp angles of her features – high cheekbones, a defined jawline, and lips that curved with a tantalizing smirk. But it was her eyes that truly captivated you – dark, smoldering, and filled with an almost feral possessiveness – that drew you in with an intensity that made your breath hitch.
Her gaze held a promise, both thrilling and terrifying, as she braced her hands on either side of you, caging you in, making it clear that you were hers and hers alone.
Without warning, Agatha closed the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours with a fierce, unrestrained passion. The kiss was possessive and hungry, like she was trying to devour every ounce of you. The force of it was dizzying, leaving you breathless as her tongue teased and explored, dancing with yours in a rhythm that felt both intoxicating and primal, leaving no part of you untouched.
Agatha’s left hand reached up, her fingers curling around your jaw with a tender yet commanding grip. She turned your face to the side, and you could feel her warm breath ghosting against your skin. As she began to pepper soft kisses along the column of your throat, each gentle press of her lips felt electric, sending waves of arousal pooling between your legs. The sensation intensified with every delicate brush, heightened as Agatha’s teeth grazed your exposed neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. Your eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that overcame you, and you let out a soft whimper, the sound barely escaping your lips.
After another firm nip at your pulse point, you opened your eyes once more, blinking against the encroaching haze of desire.
The breath in your throat froze, caught like a deer in the headlights, as you caught sight of Rio gazing at you from across the flickering campfire.
She lay on her side, facing your direction, propped up on one elbow. Her dark hair cascaded over the forest floor like a waterfall of silk. A sly smirk danced across her lips, amusement sparkling in her eyes. Panicked, you instinctively glanced around, worried that the others may be awake as well, but, to your relief, they were sleeping peacefully in their makeshift beds.
“Uh-Mistress, Rio, she’s-” You stammered, a rush of embarrassment flooding your cheeks.
“Let her watch.” Agatha said breathlessly, her voice a sultry whisper that sent goosebumps across your flesh.
Agatha captured your lips once more. Her kiss was a fierce declaration, filled with longing and desire. As her right hand trailed up your ribs, her fingers brushed delicately against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, causing another spark of arousal to settle low in your gut. Each touch was deliberate, coaxing a deep, instinctual reaction from within you.
“Please…” The word escaped your lips in a breathy whisper, laced with urgency and yearning.
Rio made a low, pleased hum at the sound of your plea. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark with lust and intrigue, as if she were savoring every second of what was unfolding before her. She shifted slightly, leaning back, her posture relaxed yet predatory. One hand rested on her thigh, her long fingers tapping slowly, deliberately, against her leg.
The heat radiating from Agatha’s body felt like molten fire against your skin, leaving you desperate as her hand slid down, resting possessively on your hip, anchoring you in place.
When Agatha finally pulled away, a soft, involuntary gasp escaped your lips, your chest heaving as the cool night air rushed back into your lungs. Yet even as the distance grew, Agatha’s breath remained tantalizingly close, ragged and uneven, mingling with your own. Her gaze never wavered, locked onto yours with a deep, dark hunger swirling in its depths, consuming each one of your thoughts.
“You’re mine,” Agatha growled, her voice lower, huskier, dripping with pure possessiveness. “My pet. No one else will ever have you.”
Your body reacted instinctively as your thighs pressed together in response.
Agatha’s gaze shifted like a blade, cutting sharply toward Rio. Her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare that could have scorched the ground beneath the witch. But Rio, ever unfazed, merely chuckled, her laughter low and teasing. Without a word, she turned back around, her posture relaxed, as if unconcerned with Agatha's jealousy.
This was going to be a long, difficult journey, you realized.
#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha harkness#rio vidal#agatha all along#marvel#agatha all along fanfic
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