reidispunk

[reidispunk]

◦˚~ BUNCH OF LIGHT GREY/WHITE DIVIDERS by enchanthings ~˚◦

white dividers:

Requested by: anonymous Info: these were all made & edited by me. please reblog/like if using!

[reidispunk]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[reidispunk]

I’d like to think Hotch has these framed somewhere in his house

[reidispunk]

[reidispunk]

could you maybe do like a one shot of Spencer x Supermodel!fem reader? Like she does runways for super popular brands like Versace and Victoria’s Secret?

Radiant. ౨ৎ

Spencer reid x fem supermodel!reader

content: established relationship, no use of y/n, spencer being down bad tbh, fluff

cw: Victoria's Secret show, so underwear yk (but no sexualising or anything)

wc: 2.3k

an: This is so exciting, hi first anon req!! I love you so much! Anyways this idea is amazing and I hope this is what you envisioned <3 This isn't my best work, but I tried 😭 Also I based the outfit off Karolina Kurkova's in a 2003 show, but its set in early season 7 soo forget that!

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“Is that her?” Penelope whispers for the hundredth time.

“No.” He huffs, tired of answering the same question for the past ten minutes.

“Patience, babygirl.” Derek chuckles from Spencer's other side. “He'll tell us when she's here. Maybe not with his words, but definitely with his eyes.” Derek flutters his lashes in Spencer's direction, clearly making fun of him.

“Both of you leave me alone, please?” He pleads, sick of their antics. They haven't stopped talking, and it's putting him on edge. He wants to appreciate today. Appreciate you. 

You had been desperately hoping to get this job with Victoria's Secret for months, and you were ecstatic when news of your hire reached you through your manager. You'd been raving excitedly about it ever since, and had begged him to finally come to a show.

He obliged, of course. Partly, because he can't say no to you, and mostly because he has been eager to see you in your element ever since you two had started dating.

Now, he is buzzing in anticipation, which is definitely not helped by Morgan and Garcia's constant remarks.

It wouldn't have been his personal preference to invite them, but you'd insisted, saying it was about time you met Spencer's friends, anyways. 

The show continues, scantily clad girls strutting down the catwalk, angel wings attached to their backs and sequins blinding, but still, you were nowhere to be seen. Spencer fidgets, waiting with baited breath. 

A figure emerges from the side of the stage, turning to strut down the walkway. He freezes, shooting up in his chair from where he was previously slumped. It was you. Undeniably. He could pick you in a sea of people from a mile off, if it came to it. 

His breath hitches. He takes you in. 

There you stand, in all of your glory. He can't quite believe what he’s seeing. Sure, you're self-assured in your everyday life, but this is on a whole new level.

You radiate confidence, striding down the catwalk like you own it. Spencer is utterly captivated by this different side of you that he has never seen in person before.

Sure, he's seen endless pictures—and even some videos—of your modelling, as well as the shows that take place in the comfort of your home; when you put on outfits and strut down the long hallway of your apartment, to loud enthusiasm from Spencer.

These particular one-on-one shows usually end in you dressing in progressively more atrocious outfits, until you’re both prone from uncontrollable laughter.

But this. This was real. It all hits him then—that you are a supermodel, that you do this for a living. That this is your life. 

His chest swells with immense pride at all you have accomplished. You've worked so hard, built your career from the ground up, and it has paid off. Your dreams have finally come true, and now, you're modelling in a Victoria's Secret show, which he is told (by you, of course) is world-renowned. 

“That's her.” Derek concludes smugly, no uncertainty in his tone. Spencer shushes him loudly, eyes fixed solely on you.

You don't falter for a single step as you glide down the stage. You're clad in a sparkly silver bra that glints off the bright lights, sequined mesh sitting below the bra's edge. 

A small pair of matching silver underwear sit below your hips, a glittering garter to match. And, of course, the wings. They protrude from your back, spanning above your head, magnificent and ethereal. Spencer thinks you ought to have a halo to match. 

The feathered angel wings trail down your back, sweeping across the floor behind you as you make your way to the end of the catwalk. 

Garcia and Morgan are saying something across him—most likely about you—but he pays them no mind, not caring for anything else but you, in front of him.

As you near the end of the perilously long stage, Spencer's smile only grows, until he is beaming uncontrollably when you slow to strike your pose. 

Spencer and his company have VIP tickets, courtesy of you, so he has an unobstructed view of you, directly in front of where he is sitting. 

Your hands rest on your hips as you lock eyes with the sea of cameras frantically snapping pictures. 

You look fierce, fiery, and Spencer somehow grins harder. 

As your eyes scan the room, they easily lock on Spencer's, not even ten feet away. His eyes are wide, smile larger than life. 

His lips move, mouthing words to you that you instantly understand, and you light up, a warm glow from within. 

‘I love you’

The luminous smile remains, even when you remember your surroundings. You pose again, grinning all the while and the crowd claps while shutters click incessantly. You pivot, sashaying off, but not before looking back over your shoulder to blow a cheeky kiss in Spencer's direction, winking.

It might just be Spencer's perception, but you seem to shimmer with incandescent light, like your very soul was set aflame with a soft fire. You are radiantly gorgeous—utterly perfect in the eyes of Spencer Reid.

The wink you sent over your shoulder makes him duck his head, face and ears bright red. He is the luckiest man in the world. To have you, all to himself. 

He is still grinning, even as you disappear around the corner. Maybe he is biassed (most certainly), but you were by far the most captivating model up there. Your every move seemed effortless—practised and perfected. 

You drew the attention of everyone, and you kept it. It felt as if the whole room had held its breath as you passed, too busy watching to remember how to breathe. 

Maybe that was just his singular experience. He wouldn't know, and he doesn't particularly care. 

As the show wraps up, Garcia and Morgan are raving—about you. 

“Spencer, I can't believe she is your girlfriend! She is absolutely stunning!” Penny gushes.

The first statement hurts him a little, like everyone thinks he can't possibly be dating a pretty model—but it's definitely true. The second statement, however, is the truest thing he's ever heard in his 29 years of life. 

Spencer chooses not to respond to Penelope, instead heading for the exit. They follow, and Morgan claps him on the back. “You're one lucky man, pretty boy.” He whistles suggestively, and Spencer brushes off his hand, mumbling something under his breath as he is suddenly interested in the craftsmanship of the venue floor. 

He found this hard. Blending his work and home life, introducing you to his family. It's not that he's worried they won't like you—that’s impossible, when it comes to you—it's more that he has trouble combining the two sides of his life in his head, given the fact that he is almost two different people in each. 

He doesn't bring his work home, and he doesn't bring his home to work—mostly. He does, sometimes (too often), ramble on about you and how downright amazing you are. He's only human, after all. 

Mostly, he's scared that it will be a mistake, that the two sides will end up being better off separate, that mixing the two now will have irreparable consequences. 

But, you wanted to, so he’s taking the plunge. For you. Always for you. 

~☆~

Spencer feels like he shouldn't be here. They're in the very depths of the building; models, designers and beauticians alike flit past them, paying them no mind as they go about their business.

He glances over his shoulder at the ajar door that leads to the dressing rooms every couple of seconds, in case you come through and save him from this place—which is the polar opposite to everything that makes him comfortable.

He's here for you, though, and he would endure this for you. Only for you. 

Morgan and Penelope stand a few feet away, at ease and chatting like this is the most normal situation in the world, like they've been backstage at thousands of Victoria's Secret shows.

Just as he's about to go into a nervous breakdown, he sees a flash of movement appear from behind the door. 

“Spence!” A shriek sounds as he turns to see you, bounding towards him. You throw your arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek.

His hands come up to steady you, curling under the hem of your sweater. He feels instantly less overwhelmed, breathing you in like you're the oxygen he needs to live—like he can’t breathe properly when you’re not near.

You're draped in an oversized knit and comfortable track pants that engulf your frame. The irony wasn't lost on him—you were wearing nothing but showy undergarments not even half an hour ago. 

He loves that about you. That you aren't entirely defined by your job, that you have a part of your life and sense of self cordoned off; a part that isn't affected by the insane world of modelling. He loves that you can be yourself in so many different ways, that you have all these different facets. Just like a diamond, whose sides are all different, but every single one shines just as brightly all the same.

It inspires him to do the same for himself, to have a true self outside of his chaotic job that takes over most of his life. You’ve helped him see that life can be varied, diverse; that there are so many different things—other than one's job—that can make you feel fulfilled. Content. Happy. 

He's happy; truely and vibrantly happy with you. And that is the way he wishes it to stay. 

He chuckles amusedly at your strong display of affection. “Hello to you too, lovely.” 

You pull back to grin at him, albeit a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I'm just so happy you're actually here.” 

His gaze softens impossibly more. “It was long overdue.” He cups your cheeks and leans down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “You were phenomenal.” 

You beam, and draw him closer.

The clearing of a throat brings you out of your reverie, out of the world where there is only the two of you. 

You pull away, detaching yourself from Spencer, eyes flashing with delight. “Hi!” You wave at a shocked-yet-amused Derek Morgan, and an exuberant Penelope Garcia. 

Derek raises his eyebrow at Spencer, probably surprised by how little he cared about your public display of affection. He usually doesn’t even let Garcia hug him unless it’s important. But, like with everything else, you’re different—special. He simply shrugs back. 

“You must be the friends Spence has told me so much about.” She reaches out a hand to shake Morgan's hand. “Derek, right?” 

Derek smirks, “In the flesh.” He grasps your hand, grip firm. “The show was amazing, by the way.” 

“Thank you!” You chirp, brightening further, and Morgan huffs out a laugh.

You pull away, turning to the eclectic women next to him. “And you, must be the famous Penelope.” 

You reach out your hand once more, but Garcia has other ideas. She dives in for a hug, bypassing the formalities immediately.

She pulls away abruptly as you squeak in surprise. “Oh- sorry! I'm sorry.” She blurts out. “I'm just so happy to meet you, finally! Reid has told us so much about you, I just couldn't wait any longer!” She grins broadly. “And you're even prettier than he described, which I don't understand how that's humanly possible, because boy genius over there won't stop talking about how gorgeous you-”

“Woah there, baby girl, slow your roll.” Derek interrupts, patting Garcia gently on the shoulder. You stifle a laugh, glancing at Spencer. He ducks his head, avoiding your eye and shuffling from one foot to another as his face turns pink.

“Sorry!” Penelope flushes scarlet red. “Uhm… what I meant was ‘nice to meet you’.” She cringes at her outburst. 

“No need to say sorry. It's an absolute pleasure to meet the both of you, Spence speaks so highly of you two.” You beam, and Garcia deflates in relief. Spencer’s arm snakes around your waist and under the hem of your sweater once again, smoothing patterns on your bare skin. You lean into his side, a contented sigh escaping your lips. 

“You know, when boy genius here told me he was dating a supermodel, I didn't believe him.” He raises eyebrows, smirking. “But, here you are.” 

“In the flesh.” You flash him a grin, parroting back his own words. He lets out a chuckle. 

“Why is it so unbelievable?” Spencer complains incredulously.

They all laugh at his words, and he hangs his head, sighing dejectedly. You pat him on the chest in consolation.

All of Spencer’s fears are quickly doused as a lively conversation starts up between you and his friends. He doesn’t know why he worried, like if they met everyone would self-combust. No, this was going fine. More than fine, even. 

His breathing slows, sure and steady, and he just watches. Watches you speak animatedly, with a delighted glint in your eye, clearly enjoying Penelope and Derek’s presence. And his friends, his family, seemed to be enjoying her just as much, which he obviously isn’t surprised about, but still fills him with relief. It was okay. It was all going to be perfectly okay.

“How does some dinner sound?” You ask the group, just as Spencer tunes back in.

Penelope claps her hands together, “Yes! I have the perfect place.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Derek replies. “If lover boy is coming, of course. I can't wait to tell lover girl, here, all the embarrassing stories at his expense.” 

Spencer groans, but follows Garcia as she heads towards the door. You just laugh. 

Spencer pinches your side from where you're still tucked under his arm and you yelp. This time, he's the one letting out a quiet chuckle, and you roll your eyes. 

“Come on genius, lead the way.” You look up expectedly from under his arm.

“Anything for you.” He simply replies, wrapping himself around you tighter, before guiding the both of you towards the door.

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Thank you for reading, feedback is appriciated x

Tags: @reidology13 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

[reidispunk]

adjacent

★⇢ Bruce Wayne x reader

★⇢ angst, fluff

★⇢ violence! slightly described torture

★⇢ wordcount; almost 3k <3

★⇢ yay first batman fic!! I missed writing and i’m maybe hoping to get back to it :)

★⇢ cross posted on ao3

You were always careful when walking around in the city. Living in the biggest crime city in the country has taught you a lot of things about survival. Being a woman and associated with Bruce Wayne brought a lot of unwanted attention, but only sometimes and besides, you could handle yourself.

Until you couldn’t.

—

You were almost at your car when you heard multiple footsteps behind you, when usually you wouldn’t think something was wrong an uncomfortable feeling washed over you.

Now you were on high alert. You heard snickering behind you when speeding up, too panicked to look behind you. Flashes of your talks with bruce come up, shakily you pried the bag with you open.

Speed-dialing his number “please please please answer.” you begged silently while listening the phone ring.

Cursing when the call went in to voicemail.

“Something’s wrong. I- fuck I think I might be in trouble— please Bruce for once answer the phone.”

Inhaling, exhaling you pressed the call button again. “It’s Bruce, I’ll call back later.” The voicemail rung again, you think you might sob. You had talked about what if’s and you’re supposed to know what to do but it feels like you’re frozen. You can’t think, you can’t run. You know they’re on your heels, but you just can’t move your muscles any faster.

“You know if ever, I mean ever sweet girl you’re in trouble and can’t reach me. Call Alfred. He’ll help you.” Bruce says while brushing your hair behind your ear, smiling at the loving gesture you ask “what kind of trouble?”

“Any kind.”

Walk walk walk, trying to find Alfred Pennyworths name from your contacts while panicking is not an easy task. But you do, and press call. For your relief he answers immediately, “Miss, how can I help you?” He asks.

“Alfred— I can’t reach Bruce and I think I might be in trouble. Fuck— I’m sorry, theres this group that’s following me, I’m so-“ your sentence cuts suddenly, you’re feeling woozy and you notice that the group has you surrounded.

“Well well, what do we have here?” One of the men snickers, “little miss Wayne, huh? Or should I say little miss Batman?” He laughs. “Which ones dick are you sucking huh? Or are you a slut? Stringing two men, hmm?” The group around you laughs.

“I guess we’ll see which one comes after you first, then.” He says before you feel yourself blacking out.

Bruce thinks he’s going to lose his mind, first you were calling him and now Alfred. Don’t both of you know that he’s in this meeting? He’s literally here only because of you, sighing and excusing himself he decides to take Alfreds call first.

“Alfred you know I’m in a meeting please—“ he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he feels like his heart leaped from his chest.

“She’s been taken.” Alfred says hurriedly “I’m not sure by who but she called me clearly in distress and I heard how she was—“

Bruce thinks he might pass out. “From what i was able to hear from the phone call, it’s a taunt to you and Batman.”

Immediately hanging up he listens to your distressed voicemail. “Mr. Wayne, is everything okay?” He hears a chair member ask behind him. But he doesn’t answer, he needs to get to you.

You gasp awake when water drenches you. “Welcome back. Now, you are going to listen to me and speak only when prompted to, alright?” The man before you says, you can’t make out his face in the darkness but you know better. “Understood.” You say in a timid voice, to make yourself seem small so he feels in control.

But you know you just need to prolong this until Vengeance can find you. The man smiles at your response, he probably is getting off on this, you think.

“Good girl. Now first question, who is the Batman?” He questions, you had assumed it was coming.

You shake your head “I couldn’t tell you mister, because he never showed me his face nor told me his identity.” You answer softly. “Wrong answer.” He says and— you probably should’ve seen it coming electrocutes you.

You gasp in pain, the shocks never seem to stop until it does. “You see now girl, this is not a game to me. You will tell me who the Batman is, hopefully sooner than later.” He says menacingly before stalking off.

——

You don’t know how long it’s been, how long you really have been in this dungeon the men brought you. But it’s been long enough for you to start accepting your fate, maybe he is not coming, he may not find you at all.

Your belief in the Batman is strong, belief in Bruce Wayne even stronger but you know he is just a man, you wouldn’t fault him if he didn’t find you in time.

Maybe you are really dying here, the man comes every few hours you think. Asks the same question, and he always gets the same answer. All you can feel is pain, it dulls down but never for long enough because he always comes back. You’re tired, close to giving up.

But then, you hear it. The sweet sound of hope. Distant screams, maybe it’s in your head. But you let yourself hope.

The man should’ve come for a 9th round already, but he hasn’t. And you can hear those heavy footsteps, you could recognize them anywhere. You hear men yell in agony and in fear, you might have even chuckled at it.

He’s here.

The last time the man came to question you, you broke down laughing. Slightly manic from the pain, he had been clearly startled. He had asked you why you were laughing, your facade had been broken down.

“He will come for you, he will find you.’ It’s just, when. And if I am dead, well.” You had said while cackling at his face. The man had straightened, maybe in fear who knows but you know you had been right.. Of course he hadn’t liked your answer and punched you but you knew the bat would come.

Vengeance had come. Suddenly the man who has been visiting you, runs in to the room. Shouting profanities, maybe at you maybe at the Batman. “What did you do?!” He yells at you, “how did he find us!” He says while grabbing your collar.

You just smile. The door slams open. There he is. You’ve always known Bruce Wayne as a kind passionate man, but his alter ego is far from that man. Batman is menacing and terrifying if he wants to be. Appearing from the shadows he slowly approaches you, the man holding you is shaking.

“S-stay back! Or I’ll hurt her!” He stutters out. You exhale, looking at the Batman you see his frigid stance, probably out of rage you think. But you see his hand twitch just slightly, which wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else but to you it speaks volumes.

He’s scared— anxious? You know you probably don’t look too hot on the metal chair, soaked and bruised.

He steps toward you and the man behind you breaks “okay, okay man! Just please let me go!” He back away from you. You chuckle dryly.

The Batman is on a war path, probably every other man in this building you’re in is gone. He flashes toward the man and you know it’s finished. You’re safe.

After 5minutes of beating the man to a pulp you speak up. “Hey Vengeance, little help?” You say exhaling from the pain. He stops, startled like he forgot you were even in the same room as him. Suddenly he’s on you, scanning every place you’re hurt in. He cuts the rope’s that are binding you in the chair.

His gloved hands are on your face holding it up. You can see the wild panic that’s still roaring in his eyes. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeats like a mantra. “I will be fine, just please— help me out of here.” You sigh, all your strength is gone. You are putty in his arms when he lifts you from the chair.

“I’m sorry.” He quietly whispers. You shake your head in protest, always blaming himself. “Stop.” You only manage to get out before you’re blacking out.

You wake up to beeping, the smell of sterile hospital room fills your nostrils. The bright lights are going to blind you, you think. Suddenly realizing you’re completely alone. Eyebrows scrunching you look around the empty room, some of your things have been placed on a chair but nothing else in the room even indicates that anyone else has been there.

The door opens and Alfred walks in. You notice him relieved to see you up, “miss, I’m so glad to see you here in one piece.” He says softly while walking towards your bed.

You smile at him “I’m glad to see you too but—“ your sentence gets cuts short when you see Alfred grimace. That can’t be good.

“What is it?” You ask sighing. He reached into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope, while he’s handing it to you- you realize what this is.

Tears slowly pooling to your eyes you chuckle. Of course— you can’t say you are surprised but well. Curse you for expecting anything else. You take it shakily from Alfred. “I’m going to find us something better to eat than hospital food while you—“ he sighs “I really am sorry about all of this, miss.” And he turns to leave.

A sob escapes you when the door closes behind Alfred. You open the envelope and find a letter and a check.

Sweet girl.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry for causing all of this to happen, this has been completely my responsibility and I’ve let you down. I have never been more scared when i got the call from Alfred.

Please use the money to move out of Gotham, I need you to be safe. We should not be seen together any longer, to avoid further damage to you, or to me. This shouldn’t never happened in the first place.

Your things are all in order, I have made sure of it.

I keep listening to the voicemail you left me before, I’m so sorry for not answering. It is all my fault.

— Bruce Wayne

He didn’t outright write it but you know this is Bruces way of saying goodbye. And now you’re hyperventilating. Great.

You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve any of this. And he’s the one who’s pulling away? Tears are falling down on the letter, smudging the ink and his handwriting. A sob breaks through and you can’t stop. You’re trying to dry the letter with shaky hands, this stupid letter is all you have left of him now.

Alfred walks back in, food bag in hand he looks startled to see you in this state. “Miss, calm down please” he drops the food back next to your bed and grabs you by your forearms. “It will be alright, I promise.” He says but you shake your head. “I’m completely alone, I have no one.” Your voice cracks and another sob bubbles up. Alfred’s shaking his head furiously “no you are not, you have me. Just give him time, he’ll come around.” He tries to reassure you.

“No he won’t, he wants me to move out of the city.” You drop the letter on your lap and bury your face in your hands. What were you going to do?

“We will figure this out miss, I promise.”

You did figure it out.

It’s been a few months since the— event and since you saw Bruce. A person you had been seeing regularly since you were a child, just disappeared from your life completely. You swear you have seen flashes of him when you’re walking around the city but you might be reaching.

You have a relatively nice place in the outskirts of Gotham, much safer and comfortable than your last apartment. You did consider leaving the city all together but it has been your home for your entire life.

Alfred was a huge help in everything after you were discharged from the hospital. But you are alone now. You’d thought that it would have been something you had gotten used to but life has been a cruel joke to you for a while now.

It’s late, but you can’t sleep these days. So you resort to sitting on your porch with a teamug and a cigarette, a bad habit you picked up after everything. It wasn’t something you were proud of but it was comforting enough. You had adopted a cat, hoping to ease the loneliness a bit. While it did help a little you still felt desperately alone. Inhaling the smoke you listened the city and all of its noises. Police sirens, cars, that city hum had given you some peace at some point but now it just brought you dread.

Suddenly, goosebumps rose on your skin. Looking around you couldn’t see anything but you couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you. Shivering you put out the cigarette to get up and go back inside.

“That’ll kill you.” You heard from the shadows, freezing completely. How dare he come to your house after everything?

“Fucking hypocrite.” You spit back and pull yourself up. Opening the front door and swiftly pulling it closed behind you, hoping it was enough of a message that you weren’t interested.

He knocks. He fucking knocks on your door. You laugh, ignoring the fucking knock you walk to your kitchen to set the tea mug down. He’s knocking again and you know he has persistence, so he could be knocking on your door all night. Inhale— exhale.

You walk back to the door and yank it open. He’s standing there with his hand up ready to knock again. “Get the fuck off my property Bruce.” You angrily pointed at him.

He takes his mask off— he looks like shit. “Please, let’s talk.” He pleads

——

Having Bruce in your new home wasn’t something you let yourself imagine. But here he is, standing uncomfortably in your living room while you try to gather yourself in the kitchen.

“I know I fucked up but—“ he starts and you march to the other room. “No! You didn’t ‘fuck up’, I got kidnapped and you LEFT me right when I fucking needed you the most, Bruce!” You exclaim. He lowers his head maybe in shame but you’re too tired to analyze his tells.

“You can’t just— disappear from my life and the expect to be welcomed back with open arms! I have been so alone and—“ you let out an involuntary sob. “You left me Bruce.” Your voice cracks, of course you missed him but you can’t do this. Let yourself hope and get hurt all over again.

“I know. I’m sorry, fuck— I can’t stop listening the voicemail you left me that day and I remember how I couldn’t protect you all over again! If you weren’t associated with me, they wouldn’t have paid you any mind, and I can’t live with myself knowing that I’m the reason you got hurt.” He exclaims back, you shake your head in displeasure.

“I never blamed this on you Bruce. It was never on you! I just needed you to be here with me.” You sob, turning back around to face your hallway that leads to the kitchen. You hear Bruce move towards you and you still. “I have been deathly scared for you every night since you started being Batman. But I’ve stayed next to you through all of it because I know this city is important to you! I know what all of this means to you and even though, it breaks my heart to see you hurting I have always been in your corner.” You finally let out things that have been brewing inside you for months.

It’s so silent now that you think maybe he disappeared again, and you quickly turn back around but what you really see shocks you. Bruce Wayne has always been not stoic but strong, rarely have you seen him desperate or sad. His emotions always ranging between rage and apathy. But now he looks just, broken. You almost flinch towards him because of the sudden show of vulnerability. “I’m— apology isn’t even enough anymore is it.” He says voice hoarse.

“You know, that I’ve always been here for you. So why can’t you be here for me?” You sigh while taking a step toward the utterly broken looking man.

“I want to be. I just— I can’t lose you like I lost my parents.” He whispers as you approach him slowly. You sigh “I know, and I want to promise you won’t, but that’s life you know. But I can promise you that I will by your side as long as I can, if you let me.” Softly saying while you raise your arm to hold his forearm. “If you are on mine.”

His eye bags are showing underneath the black eyeshadow he has on, you bite your lip in concern— has he been sleeping at all? Bruce nods then and pulls you in to his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. For everything, sweet girl.” He says quietly. “I promise I will be here, for you.”

You think then, that maybe everything will be okay, after all.

[reidispunk]

this is FIRE

[reidispunk]

Y'all are gonna have to pry Brooklyn 99 from my cold dead hands

[reidispunk]

MASTERLIST

all my works can be found here! ⇵

ao3 is wayneispunk

MISCELLANEOUS

★⇢ adjacent — Bruce Wayne

★⇢ something coming soon?

simon riley

★⇢ you know i love you, right?

★⇢ mean it

joel miller

★⇢ take it slow, kid (platonic!joel)

★⇢ flower

please do NOT repost any of my works!!!

[reidispunk]

The two extremes of my ideal type: the dilf much older than my dad aaron hotchner, or the nerdy angel face boy spencer reid.

[reidispunk]

— sugar, sugar

wolverine/logan x neighbor!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own version of a personal hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh, uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[reidispunk]

YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU, RIGHT?

Simon Riley x fem!reader

★⇢ summary; You lost him. But what if you two are destined to meet again? And your paths lead you straight back to each other?

★⇢ warnings; angst?, mentions of death, slight fluff i guess?, / soft!simon, happy ending.

★⇢ a/n; I hope you enjoy this fic! I really liked writing this and if you like it maybe i could do a second part? :)

★⇢ word count; 2,4k

You had known Simon since childhood. He and you met in a park when you were little, you had hurt your knee and he noticed, walked up to you and helped you back to your mother. Your mother adored Simon, she took him in like her own and it was the same with Simons mum. She had loved you so dearly and after she was killed, you were destroyed from the inside. They blamed Simon for his mother death, and the second you found out about it you knew it couldn’t be true.

Simon adored his mother and you knew he wouldn’t do anything like that. So after the incident you made it your mission to find him again. They all said he was dead, they said he wasn’t going to come back. You didn’t believe that.

You had enlisted for the army not long after Simons mothers passing. You couldn’t stay home and wallow in Manchester forever so you decided to join the military to help people and maybe with a lot of good luck, find Simon Riley again.

Its been many years since that and you’re still here but now you’re higher rank, one of the most respected women in the bases and if you can say so yourself, a hell of a sniper.

You like working alone, no distractions or awkward conversations and no unnecessary attachments. But now you’re being transferred to Task Force 141, a special operations unit. You have heard about them yes and even though you tried to resist— Kate Laswell said the Captain desperately wanted you on his team.

You gave in and said yes to the offer, so now you’re on your way to their base. You feel nervous, you haven’t worked with a full team for ages and you’re pretty sure your people skills aren’t very good. But you knew that the 141 is a big deal so why not? New opportunities you think.

You’re getting out of the heli and you see a man with a bucket hat jogging towards you and waving. You guess this is the infamous Captain Price and move towards him.

“Sergeant! Happy to have you here. Captain Price” He welcomes you and offers you a hand to shake. You shake his hand and answer “Captain, thank you for having me.” You smile to him and he nods.

“You must want to meet the team yeah? Walk with me.” He says and you start walking towards the base. You walk beside him and listen when he asks something, “so sergeant I hear they call you Dove, is that right?” He asks your callsign and you nod.

“Yeah Dove is good” you answer and he nods at you. You’re having a conversation with the Captain while walking and now you’re here, standing in front of the door conference room.

“Ready Dove?” Price asks you and you exhale. “Yes, lets get this over with.” You answer and he goes first and keeps the door open for you and you nod as a thank you.

“Alright men, this is our new sergeant. Play nice and introduce yourselves please” the Captain says and you look at the first man standing in front of you. “They call me Soap, nice to meet you lass” the mohawk haired man says in a very Scottish accent.

You nod “nice to meet you Soap, they call me Dove” you say repeating his words and he flashes a grin. “Dove eh? What for?” He asks and you smile slightly. “You’ll find out” you raise your eyebrows playfully and he chuckles and moves so the other men can introduce themselves.

The next man is— You don’t know how to describe him. He has a slight boyish charm to him “hey love, I’m Gaz nice to have you on board” he says and smiles at you.

You like him already, he has a good vibe attached to him. “Pleased to meet you Gaz, I’m Dove” you tell him and flash him a small smile.

Then at last but definitely not least a skull masked man comes to your view. Man he is BIG, you think. All you can see from his face is his eyes and they slightly look familiar but you can’t place why they do.

“Ghost” is all he says and you nod at him, not everyone is social and you can respect that. “Dove” you say and you see a weird emotion flicker in his eyes, he only nods and thankfully Price interrupts your weird eye contact.

“So now that we all are introduced you’re dismissed. Dove lets go to my office yeah?” Price says and you finally peer your eyes away from the skull faced man. You nod and step around Ghost to follow Price. Maybe he’ll show you their files finally you think. You had been refused when you had asked for the team’s files before and you’ve been itching to find out who your new teammates are.

“Here we are” the Captain says and you step inside of his office behind him. “So I’ve heard you had been asking the files of our team yes?” He asks you while setting himself down on his chair and you walk to the chair opposite of him.

“Yeah I just wanted to know who I was going to be working with you know.” You say to him while sitting down on the chair and he nods at you and he smiles.

“Well this is your lucky day sergeant. Of course they have seen your file too except the Lieutenant because he hasn’t had any time yet but he will eventually” Price explains and then he opens a drawer on his desk and pulls out a stack of files.

“Here you are, take your time and read through them. I will do some paper work in the mean time.” He hands you the stack and you open the first one and its Gaz— Or Kyle Garrick.

You read through his file and move on to the next one. Its the Captain’s file, John Price huh? It makes sense, his name fits him you think. The next file is Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavishes file and you furrow your brows, John and Johnny? Huh. You smile at the coincidence and go through his file quickly, because you know who’s file the last one is and you’re curious about him.

You place the last file on top and the first thing you notice is that there’s no picture? You brush it off and open the file.

You freeze.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

It can’t be him. No no— You can’t believe this. Yes one of the reasons you joined the military was Simon and his sudden disappearance but you had lost hope many years ago— You had shed tears for him and for what? Him to be alive?—

You look to his birthday and you know its him. Bury the feelings, bury the feelings, shove them as down as possible! Whatever— maybe he doesn’t recognize you. Its been years since you last saw each other, you were young then and now you’re older, and definitely not the same person you were 10 years ago and you bet he isn’t either.

“Sergeant? Are you okay?” You hear the Captain ask and you lift your head to look at him and nod. “Yeah I’m almost finished” you answer and he just nods and goes back to his work.

You keep reading Ghosts— Simon’s? File and your eyes widen. He went through hell and you almost can’t believe what you’re reading. Buried alive? Family murdered and staged to look like it was him? Oh god.

You close his file and hand the files back to the Captain “here sir, thank you for letting me read through them.” You say and force a smile.

He nods and stands up “shall we finally take you to your room?” He asks and you nod eagerly. “Yes please” you say and he chuckles.

You’re walking with Price through the halls when you hear a voice calling for him. You instantly recognize it and you tense up “Captain!" Simon jogs up to you— more to the Captain but whatever—

“Can we talk?” Simon asks and you avoid eye contact with him. “Sure just a minute, go to my office I’ll be there in 5” the captain says and you hear a gruffy ‘copy.’

The Captain showed you your new room and then dismissed himself to go meet the Lieutenant. Now you’re sitting on the floor, leaning to your bed— which is surprisingly big.

What are you going to do?

Avoiding him all together would be the best plan but you work together so you don’t want to make it more difficult. Acting clueless? No. He will see through it, you know he would. Maybe just avoid the subject? Yeah. That seems the most reasonable idea.

You sigh and press your face to your hands. You don’t know Simon anymore, so you don’t know how he would— will react.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock. You think to ignore it but then the person on the other side of the door knocks again— but this time softer.

Then you hear your name being called and you freeze at the voice. It’s him— it’s Simon. You slowly start getting up from your sitting position and start creeping towards the door.

Your hands are shaking while you slowly reach to the door handle. You open the door and see him. He looks as anxious— if not more than you. You swallow “Simon.” You exhale and suddenly you’re being pushed back inside of your room, he steps in and slams the door shut.

You don’t know what to expect. Him to yell at you? Maybe.

But no. You’re being pulled in to an embrace.

“I couldn’t find you—“ Simon rasps out while he’s gripping you for dear life. You sneak your arms around his torso. “I thought you were dead” you say

“I thought you were GONE, Simon.” You choke up and suddenly your legs are giving out and he grumbles to the floor with you. He presses his hand on your head and you sob to his chest “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” You yell at him and hit his chest over and over again.

He grabs you hand and brings it on his heart. “I’m sorry.” Is the only thing he says to you. You can’t say anything to him, you’re just leaning on him. You shake your head in disbelief, you still can’t believe he is alive.

You need to get away from him, you can’t— You can’t do this again. You have already lost him once you can’t risk to go through the pain again. You are both in the military, the job doesn’t promise you coming back from the missions. You’re soldiers, its not allowed to love another soldier. Especially when he’s your lieutenant. But you do love him, oh how you love this man.

The first night you heard he was dead you couldn’t sleep, you threw up all night. The heartbreak was suffocating, you can’t do that again.

You push yourself away from him and get up. You turn your back to him and try to take deep breaths. You hear a small thump on the floor which you assume is something he dropped but still don’t turn back to look.

He calls your name. You shake your head “I can’t do this Simon. I can’t lose you again, i can’t go through that pain again— I just—“ You try to explain but you can’t think straight.

He says your name again but softer. It makes you look at him and you freeze. He’s still on his knees but he took his mask off. You haven’t seen his face in years, oh how he has grown in to his features. Scarred face but still so so handsome, your fingers twitch to touch his face.

A tear slips down your face, you’ve missed him so much. You take your gaze from his face to the wall and close your eyes. You exhale and furrow your brows.

You open your eyes again and turn around. You cant resist the temptation to go to him. You walk towards him and he just stares at you. “Si” you whisper, mostly to yourself but emotion in his eyes flicker when you say his nickname you called him through out the years.

He’s looking up at you, not much because he’s so damn large hes almost to up to your chest even though you’re standing up and he’s kneeling on the floor. You are standing in front of him, smiling slightly you reach your hands towards his face to touch him. You brush over his features and all his scars. He leans in to your touch and closes his eyes.

“I missed you, Simon” you say to him and his eyes open again. The emotion is plastered in his eyes “I know” he says and you frown in confusion, how could he know how much you’ve missed him?

“I missed you too, Dove” he says and smiles to you. You freeze, the nickname he had used for you is now your callsign and you know he knows why.

You sit back down next to him. He raises his arm to loop around your shoulders and you lean back to his touch. Pressing your face on his chest you breathe him in.

“You know I was going to propose you.” He says and you flinch up to look at his eyes in shock.

“I mean not right away, I had this plan. I was going to ask you to a date with me, with good luck you would have said yes, we would’ve dated for a few years, maybe moved in together to a nice place like you deserved. Then I would’ve taken you out on to the beach you loved so much, have a picnic and ask you to marry me.” He tells you and you feel tears building up.

“I would have said yes you know.” You tell him and he looks surprised. “I’m sorry I gave up on you Simon.” You apologize and look down to avoid eye contact.

“No. I should’ve had worked harder to find you.” Simon shuts you down and tilts your head back from your chin to look at him. “I saw your mother.” He tells you— oh.

“How was she?” You ask and he smiles. “She was shocked to see me, cried a bit. She told me that she hadn’t seen you in years.” He says and you frown.

“I just— I couldn’t go back. There was too many memories it was too painful.” I explained looking to the wall frowning.

He exhales “sweet girl” he says to get your attention back to him. You look back to his eyes, he holds a comforting look in them.

“I can’t lose you again Simon.” You tell him trying to swallow your tears. His hand goes to your cheek “You won’t. I promise you” he says sternly.

“You know I love you, right?”

[reidispunk]

MEAN IT

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY x READER

★⇢ summary; It wasn’t supposed to happen, you get hurt on a mission and you confess something to Simon while you’re sure you’re going to die, so what’s going to happen when you wake in the military bases infirmary?

★⇢ warnings; blood, almost dying?, slight angst, fluff

★⇢ a/n; hey guys! thank you so much for the love for my latest fics! Sorry this isn’t joel or pedro themed but i just wanted to post something until i get my din djarin fic finished! Anyways, again sorry if theres grammar mistakes and I hope you enjoy this short story!

★⇢ word count; 1,6k

”Sergeant!” you recognize the bark of your lieutenant immediately. “Sergeant! You don’t get to die on my mission, eyes open.” He snaps while you lay on the floor, eyes blurry. You might’ve noticed the crack in his voice but you couldn’t focus on anything but the pounding on your head.

This was not supposed to happen. It was an easy mission, get the hostages out and leave. You and ghost were assigned and you were confident you could do this.

You had cleared all the rooms and got to the hostages with ghost. But then suddenly a man jumped out and started shooting, you quickly made your way towards him shielding the hostages and crashing to him.

You didn’t even feel it at first. You got the man on the ground and managed to kill him but then suddenly you felt dizzy and you just knew.

“Fuck.” you cursed “Ghost, get the hostages out to the ‘copter” you said looking down at your stomach and seeing two nasty red spots on your sides.

He said nothing and started to get the people out, he didn’t notice your state and that made it easier to fall behind.

The adrenaline has gone down plenty and now all you can think is the pain and the crimson liquid on your stomach and hands.

“Grey, come in. Where are you?” you hear ghost’s voice call for you but you don’t answer, too weak to lift your hand you just groan.

“Sergeant! Come in!” you hear him yell again but you still don’t answer. You care about ghost, you’ve been on the same team forever and you know him as ghost and, you know him as Simon Riley. He has trusted you with things you know he would never trust with anyone else.

Simon Riley is a complicated man. He’s intelligent and very powerful but you know even under the thick mask he’s terrified of losing people close to him and now you’re pretty sure you are doing that to him. You have seen a lot of him, in his mask on the field and without the mask as Simon Riley in the comfort of his room. So you’re safe to say you know him, very well.

And now you know he’s probably in a frenzy. You want to calm him down and tell him you’re okay but you can’t, the desire to close your eyes and relax is too strong.

“Sergeant!” You flinch and suddenly you see him kneeling beside you. You cough and he presses on the wounds. “Shit” you curse and he presses on harder.

“Cmon sergeant you ain’t dying on this bloody mission” his voice is scruffy, full of panic what a normal person wouldn’t recognize but you do. You know his voice is a tiny bit higher when he’s in a panic mode.

“Simon-“ you cough. You can’t get up, he has to leave you or he’s never getting back. “Go, you need to go Simon-“ you say and with your last strength try and push him off but of course it doesn’t work.

“No. I’m not leaving you” he answers and you close your eyes. The pain is too blinding and you just want to end your misery. He says your name and your eyes slowly flutter open. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this to me-“ he chokes up and you see the emotion in his eyes.

“Simon- Please, go and live for me please.” you say and get ready for the coldness of death. “I can’t do that.” he says and starts moving closer to lift you up.

You smile at him “You always were my favorite Simon.” His movements stutter but he starts lifting you in bridal style. “Shut up sergeant. You are getting out of this” he says coldly and the only thing you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for death to come and pick you up.

“I did love you Simon, I’m sorry I didn’t tell it to you sooner, you don’t deserve this. I’m sorry” you apologize and get the confession you’ve been holding in forever to protect your friendship finally out.

He looks at you and continues walking. You feel it, the numbness is coming and you relax into it. ‘Sergeant! Grey!’ his voice yelling your name is the last thing you hear.

You feel like you’re under water and can’t breathe, everything feels achy and you feel like shit. Gasping and sitting up bright white lights are blinding you.

“Calm down miss, you’re safe”

you wince from the stinging pain in your sides and look around. All white walls, small room and machines next to your bed. ”How- How did I get here?” you ask finally focusing from the hospital room to the nurse standing next to you.

“The lieutenant carried you back here” she answers nicely and you furrow your brows. Simon brought you back?

“Is- Is he okay?” you ask and the woman nods “yes i presume, he’s on a mission right now so he’s not here to see you but-“ you freeze, he’s on a mission?

“Wait- what day is it? How long was I out?” you ask now panicked and the nurse gives you a small smile. “Its been two months” she tells you and your eyes widen.

———

You know you’re dissociating. You have been staring at the wall opposite you since you heard you’ve been in a coma for two months. Are they even going to let you back in the field? The military is your whole life you can’t lose it.

“Grey?” you hear a familiar voice but you don’t look away from the wall. You hear your name, you flinch and look at the person.

It’s Simon. He’s in his signature mask and favorite vest and jeans. You still don’t understand how he can wear those in the field. You smile slightly to him and he approaches the bed you’re sitting in.

“Simon” is all you say to him while trying to read his mood. He glances your sides and stops in front of your bed but still keeps his distance. “That was stupid sergeant.” he says and you sigh.

“I did what I had to.” you say and he shakes his head, “I let you down Grey and I’m sorry” he apologizes and you’re shocked, why is he apologizing? None of it was his fault.

“Simon, it wasn’t your fault and you got me out even tho I wanted you to leave me behind” you say brows furrowed looking straight at his piercing blue eyes.

“It was my fault. I should’ve noticed sooner and-“ he starts but you don’t let him finish his sentence.

“Shut up Simon. Stop blaming yourself, it was not your fault.” you say sternly to him and his eyes look away from yours for a second. He lets out a sigh and you reach for him.

“Come closer” you say and signal with your hand for him to move towards you. He hesitates and you roll your eyes “don’t make me get up from this bed” you slightly tease him but he clearly tenses up from the joke.

He steps closer and now you can actually reach him so you wrap your hand around his wrist. You pull him closer to you and you know he could resist because the man is three times bigger than you but he still moves when you pull him.

Now he’s touching the bed, right next to you and you loosen your hand around his wrist and move your arm to wrap around his waist. He’s painfully tense under your touch but you wrap your one arm around his waist the best you can and lean on his stomach.

“Thank you for getting me out of there” you say and then you feel his hand press to the side of your head what’s not pressed against his stomach and he just holds you there.

he holds you a little harder and you sigh. “When I was getting you out of there- you um” he starts and you realize what he’s talking about and tense. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that Simon I-“ you squeeze your eyes shut and embarrassment floods you.

“No. Don’t say that. Did you um- did you mean it?” he stops you and pulls back a bit so you’re looking at his eyes but you look away.

“Look at me.” he says his voice scruff and you peer your eyes back on him. You exhale and nod “yes, I meant it.” you tell him and you lower your gaze to his chest.

He sighs and lifts his hand away from you and you expect him to walk away from you and avoid you like plague for the rest of your career. But he doesn’t, you look back at him and see his lifting his mask off and your eyes widen.

Simon is always beautiful and it never fails to amaze you, his lips twitch slightly and you know that’s his version of a small smile.

He cradles your head after he has thrown his mask on the floor somewhere and starts to lean towards you. Your eyes widen even more and he huffs out a laugh. “Relax love” is all he says before you feel his lips on yours.

It’s a soft but passionate kiss, he sighs into it and presses further into you. You lift your hand to grip on his hair and he lets out a small groan.

He slightly pulls back and stares straight to your eyes and you feel like he’s looking straight into your soul. “You don’t even know how long I wanted to do that” he says and you see his lips turn into a small smirk.

You lean back towards him and press your lips to his to kiss him again.

[reidispunk]

FLOWER

JOEL MILLER x FEM!READER

★⇢ summary; your and Joels encounters haven’t been the best, he ignores you and you respect his decision to keep away from you. Ultimately he saves you multiple times and a friendship starts to bloom between you, can it be more that that? Or is it all in your head?

★⇢ warnings; angst?, violence, small mentions of death and slight fluff

★⇢ a/n; Hey!! Thank you so much for the love for my last fic, I hope this is enjoyable and i’m sorry for the grammar mistakes,, i try and come to fix them if they come up :) And i hope its not weird that i first wrote platonic and then romantic joel haha,, i just have father issues 😔

★⇢ word count; 5k

It was raining again, you love the Jackson weather but it has rained almost a week now and you’re getting sick of it. You jogged to your home/shop, which Tommy gave you after they found you in the woods. You were a florist, you loved all plants and flowers. And you think it’s meaningful that even in this rotten world flowers bloom and fill the gray with color. You were almost at home, a little out of breath and soaked. But then you saw him, a man you hadn’t seen before just standing in the rain.

You don’t know if it would be a good idea to approach him but you know he saw you. You had stopped walking and you just stared at the exceptionally beautiful man. What were you doing? You decided to keep walking and then from the corner of your eye you saw him fall on his knees, panic surges through you now as you changed your direction from your home to him. You didn’t even notice first how you were almost sprinting to him. Now you were kneeling in front of him “hey, are you-“ you started and then you saw his eyes, you weren’t the best at talking but you observed people and you knew when people were in pain, mental or physical and you knew he was in pain. “Okay hey i’m the florist in the town, my place is right there” you point at your building and continued “Why don’t you come with me yeah? Its cold and raining and i have some tea or if you prefer coffee i-“ you said to him

“no thanks.” he said sternly and you just looked at him and nodded, it was understandable that he said no. You had never talked before so you just accepted his answer and hid the wince after he denied your offer. You got up and started jogging to your building, if he wasn’t coming you might try and save yourself from the cold you were probably going to get from the rain. You hoped he would at least get home but that wasn’t your business. You finally get inside and turn your lights on. You really like your place, its cozy and always smells like flowers which makes you happy. Walking up the stairs to your ‘living area’ and you throw your things in the corner. Still soaked you take new clothes and decide to shower.

Now you’re just laying in bed while you feel yourself dozing off but suddenly hear a loud knock at your door, it scares you because living with the cordyceps has of course made you jumpy and cautious. You walk down the stairs and see Tommy, you open the front door “hey Tommy what’s up?” you ask smiling politely “hey uh I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen my brother um Joel?” he asks while he seems visibly stressed “uh how does your brother look? I saw a man standing in the rain a while back and he didn’t let me take him inside so I just thought it would be best to leave him alone-“ you explain about the unknown man you saw earlier “yea’ that’s probably him- look if you see him please tell him to come home, we are worried about him and we know he’s mad at us but its not smart to wander while its raining” Tommy says to you while looking around.

“Do you need help finding him? I can come with you if you want-“ you start to offer to find Tommys brother you apparently met “no no- its cold and wet so you go to sleep and if he stumbles here just get him home yeah?” he waves to you and starts jogging off to the town. You stare at his figure go out of sight while you think about your options, either you go to bed and sleep, be warm and comfortable in your bed or you put a jacket on and try and find the missing man who has already once denied your offer. You sigh, close the door and walk up the stairs.

“Where is it?” you say to yourself while trying to find a mans rain jacket you swore you had when you came into Jackson. “Aha! Here it is” you find the jacket and stuff it and the fresh bread you had made in the morning into your bag and swing it over your shoulder.

You pull your own jacket on and open your door “I better find you Joel” you say to the quiet town and start walking around. You can’t track his traces because the rain washed them off so you just start to wander around the town and try to think a place where you would go if you didn’t want to be found. Then it hit you, the little abandoned shop close to the little park area. You start heading that way, you knew it would be a good spot to hide because you had hidden there for the first weeks you got to Jackson and there were some of your old stuff you hadn’t had the time to get. You’re now standing in front of the building. Building up the courage to go inside. He already had said no and you are worried that you’ll seem too pushy. You take a breath and walk to the door and open it, step inside and it seems empty. But then you see his wet jacket hung over on one of the chairs, you hesitate to call out to him but you do it anyways “hey Joel um I know you didn’t want my help but Tommy came by to ask about you and I just thought to bring you an extra rain jacket I had laying around- Oh! and i also brought some bread I baked this morning if you were hungry so.. I’m leaving them here and getting out of your hair” you called out to him hoping he’ll hear. You take the jacket and the bread and set them on a table you had once called yours and stepped back out.

You closed the door and started to walk back to your place. You heard your name called and looked to your right to see tommy, you raised your hand to greet him and continued walking. “You find him?” he shouts from the distance, you shake your head and say back “I’m sure he’s fine and fully capable to take care of himself Tom, go back to Maria she’s probably waiting for you.” And you smile at him and continue walking in the rain.

—

You wake up to knocking at your door and you sigh. Slowly getting up from your warm bed and walking down the stairs just to see the man who you had taken your only rain jacket. You shiver and think to yourself that you got yourself sick. Opening the door he looks a bit awkward “hey, thanks for the jacket.” is the only thing he says to you while he’s handing you the rain jacket. “Of course” you say back to him while taking the jacket back from him. He nods and just turns around and starts walking away from you, leaving you standing there with your jacket. You chuckle at how awkward that was while closing the door, you place the jacket on a bench and climb the stairs back to your bedroom.

——————

You hear your name being called excitedly and you turn around to see Ellie “hey girl, how is it going” you say laughing to her while she’s crushing you in a hug. You’ve been sick the past two weeks because of the rain and your night wander so every time you got a bit better you hung out with the girl hugging you and your cold got worse every time and now you’ve been in bed the last five days to get better so you can get ready go back to patrols. “I missed you flower” she says to you while you raise your eyebrows at the nickname “flower?” you ask. She looks like she told you a secret accidentally and tries to change the subject. You listen her ramble about the town and the people, you laugh at her gossip while you are walking through the town. “Ellie!” you hear a man’s voice call her and look to the direction of the voice. You see Joel and quickly look back at the girl “what?” she asks and you just continue to ignore his presence.

After the jacket incident you tried to befriend Joel but quickly gave up after he ignored you. You felt humiliated by him and didn’t want to interact with him any more than needed. You spaced out when Ellie and Joel were talking about dinner plans, until you heard Ellie say your name “sorry what?” you asked and she chuckled “I asked if you had dinner plans tonight” you smiled at her and said “I don’t think so, why?” She sighs, probably because you weren’t listening at all “Me, Tommy, Maria and Joel are having dinner together tonight and I wondered if you wanted to come?” She explained to you. Your eyes widened and looked at Joel who was just standing there looking the two of you and you looked back at Ellie “no, no I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner” you started, “you wouldn’t” you hear Tommy’s voice and you look over your shoulder to see him stride towards you and Ellie “I want you there, Maria wants you there. Come if you don’t have any plans” he said putting a hand on top of your shoulder.

You sigh “Okay i’ll think about it” you say defeated while Ellie just grins. “Yay! Okay I have to go now but i’ll see you later!” Ellie says happily and strides away from you, you smile as you watch her interact with the other kids. Tommy says your name and you look at him “so you’re ready start going to patrol’s again?” he asks, you nod “yeah I’m all healthy now” you confirm and you start walking with him to the town’s diner.

—

Its 7 and you know its the time dinner starts. You feel anxious because you feel like you’re intruding their family dinner. You hear a knock on your door and flinch, its now or never. You walk to the door, open it and see Tommy “Hey Tommy, I was just about to leave. Whats up?” you say to him. He smiles and looks behind him “I was sent to come and get you” he says to you while offering his hand, you laugh and take his hand “alright then, lets go” you say while you’re stepping out from your home and closing the door. Its not a long walk to Tommys house and the walk is nice, just talking about normal stuff is nice because after the outbreak there was no time for talking about ‘normal’ things. “Alright we’re here” Tommy says to you and you stop “Tommy um before we go inside are you sure that its fine for me to come? I don’t want to be a bother and its fine really I just can go back home I-“ you ramble but Tommy stops you “Come on, you’re always welcome you know that” is the only thing he says before walking in to the miller home.

You take a deep breath and walk in behind him “we’re here!” tommy yells from the hall and you see Ellie emerge “Flower!” she yells the nickname again “hey el!” you say back while she’s coming to hug you “how are you hun?” you ask and she smiles “Good now that you’re here, maybe you can bring some energy around here” she says while raising her eyebrows. You laugh and follow her to the kitchen “hey Maria, need help?” you ask her when you see her cooking, she turns her head to your direction “no thank you, go chat to the living room, go on now” she says brushing you off.

“Alright then, yell if you need help.” You say and turn around to walk to the living room where you see Joel and Tommy talking. “Hey come sit” Tommy says to you two and you smile at him and sit down on the other couch with Ellie. You talk with her while waiting for the food.

——

“No Maria- I meant” Tommy says before he bursts out laughing, you’re sitting in the dinner table now and you’re all finished with eating. “Whatever Tommy” Maria answers with a smile back at her husband. “Yeah TOMMY how dare you” you say jokingly and Tommy just laughs more, Joel has been quiet almost the whole dinner and Ellie is now leaning on your shoulder. You laugh and decide that it would be the best for you to leave. You stand up and take your plate to the kitchen to wash it, you don’t hear him coming and flinch when you feel Joel stepping beside you “jesus you scared me” you say putting one hand on your heart. “Sorry. when are you leaving?” He asks and your eyes widen, he wants go gone that bad? “Oh I’m going to leave after this, I don’t want to be in your hair for too long” you try and say politely but your hands start shaking. You put down your clean plate and start walking away from him and enter back to the dinner table “hey i’m going to leave now so, have a good night yeah?” you say a little hurt by what Joel said. “Whaat? Noo! Don’t leave yet” Ellie says whining a little, you chuckle “Sorry hun, see you later yeah? Thanks for having me Maria.” You say to Maria and start walking to the door “wait! Joel will come with you, to walk you to your door. Right Joel?” Tommy says and you panic “Oh no it’s fine, i’ll be okay” you say denying the offer “I know you would but hes still coming.” Tommy says while hes looking at Joel eyebrows raised. “Yeah fine” Joel says and start’s walking towards you.

You’re walking in silence. Not the soothing kind of silence, the awkward silence what is eating you alive but you don’t want to say anything. “You shouldn’t have come” is the first thing you hear Joel say to you and you stop. “What?” you ask eyebrows furrowed because of the confusion, “You should’ve just stayed home, Ellie is going to get attached to you and I don’t want that” He says to you coldly “First of all, I was invited by my friends. I asked multiple times if it was okay for me to come and I was told yes” you say to him now kind of mad, you loved the girl and he doesn’t want you to have a relationship with her? “Haven’t you gotten the hint that I don’t want anything to do with you woman?” he raises his voice at you, you laugh “I didn’t even talk to you ONCE, what is your problem?” you ask pointing your finger at him. He looks away for a second and then back at you and he sighs “look, I know your type. You throw yourself at every man who gives you any attention and I don’t want Ellie be like that and i’m not a charity case you can just hop in and save, you aren’t special and I never needed your help.” He says and you freeze. Shock and anger flows through you “are you calling me a whore right now?” you ask him bitterly and then you see it. He thinks you throw yourself on men and you laugh, “You have some fucking nerve saying that to my fucking face Miller. I don’t fucking know where you got the impression that I’m a whore but you’re fucking wrong. You think I was throwing myself on you? Hah. I was just being friendly you fucking piece of shit. And I’m sorry I tried to fucking be friendly and help your sorry ass. You don’t tell me who the fuck I can talk to or not, you don’t even have to like me but Tommy and Maria has been my friends for a long fucking time so if you have a problem with me just hanging out? You can fucking go” You spat at him furiously and start walking away from him. You don’t see it but Joel realizes what he just did and hangs his head low, he thinks you’re beautiful, ethereal even and he thinks he has no chance after he’s seen you chat away with almost everyone in town. You might be oblivious to it but he knows everyone you’re being friendly to wants you.

You’re furious, a man you haven’t talked almost at all thinks that about you? You wouldn’t admit it but it hurt, you did fancy him. He was a beautiful man and you did wish you at least could’ve been friends or something like that. Suddenly you hear your name being called and you see william a man you had became familiar after he had bought flowers from you on multiple occasions. ”Hey Wil whats up?” you ask and walk towards him, “I need someone to go patrol this small area and I can’t go, I know you’re good so if you want I have a horse ready” he tells you and you think about it. You could clear your head and you like patrols when you’re pissed off so yeah you would like to shoot some infected right now. “Yeah i’ll go, whats the route?” you ask while walking with him to the stables. “Its Eugenes route, the library building and back, you know it?” he tells you and hands you the gun. “Oh yeah I do, I like that route.” you say and go and pet the horse “hey Japan, how are you feeling boy” you coo at the horse. William clears his throat “So, you go the route to the library and clear everything you can if theres any infected. If it’s something you can’t handle you come back ok? I don’t want any losses today.” He says the same thing you hear every time you go out. “Alright William.” you answer and get on the horse “see you later” you call out and start leaving.

——

You don’t know how you let this happen. You were doing well and managed to clear out almost all of the infected. But one managed to stay hidden until it was too fucking late, it jumped on you and now you’re wrestling it on top of you. “Fuck!” you yell and it just snarl’s at you, you don’t want to go like this. But it seems like you’re losing and it’s strength isn’t faltering down at all. You guess this is it, you’re going to die here. You take a deep breath using your last strength to keep the infected far away from you so it can’t bite. “Fuck this” you say to yourself and prepare for the bite. Suddenly you hear a shot and the body goes limp on top of you, you push it away and sit up breathing heavily. You look at the person who just saved you and freeze, “Joel? What the fuck are you doing here?” you ask sternly still kind of mad about the argument but more hurt by it than anything. “I could ask you the same fucking question” he snaps back and you roll your eyes “I was asked to go on a patrol and I said yes” you answer him and start getting up from the cold floor. “Alone? Do you know how fucking stupid that is? You could’ve died!” he’s now talking pretty loud and you quickly look around for more infected. “You probably would’ve been so happy about that Joel, came to tell me that? Or is it that you didn’t get your cup filled enough from calling me a whore so you came back for more?” you say riled up again.

He sighs and hangs his head low “look flower I’m sorry, I know should’ve not said that, are you hurt?” he says now more softly and it shocks you but you don’t let it show. “No I’m not.” you answer and look away from his eyes “good, do you still have any of your route left?” he asks you “no, this was the last spot” you look back at him and he seems panicked? No idea why and you just brush it off. “Okay then let’s get back to Jackson yeah?” he says and starts walking off to the horses and you follow.

You’ve been riding in silence and it’s not bothering you too much, it’s close to being a nice silence if you still weren’t hurt by his words. “Look flower” he starts and then it hits you, Ellie has called you that a few times now and it always seemed like an accident. Does Joel call you flower when he talks about you? He talks about you? Surely not right? You shake the feeling off, hum as an answer and listen what he has to say. “I’m really sorry for what I said, I’m an idiot. I’m not good with emotions and I’m really sorry flower.” he says and just continues to look forward. You think about it “look Miller, these are just empty words to me. If you want my forgiveness, earn it.” you answer.

—

You really didn’t think Joel would even try to mend things between you but boy you were wrong. Every fucking day he would come by and drop something off, help you repair you shop if you needed it and apologized at the end of the day. You didn’t admit it but you really liked his company, he was a listener and when you would ramble about stupid things he would listen, comment on something to let you know he was still listening and if there was someone else too he wouldn’t let them interrupt you at all. He was growing on you and you knew it. He spent so much time with you people started to ask if you two were together, you always said no but from what you heard he never gave a clear answer. This morning was no different, “flower” you heard Joel say as he entered to your shop and you turned your head to see him walking to you “Hey Joel what’s up” you ask smiling gently at him. “Here” he said and gave you the coffee he brought every morning to you, “thank you, my savior” you said sipping the warm coffee. He chuckles and starts to look around “i’ve been thinkin’ if you wanted me to paint these walls, i feel like they could use a refresh” he said to you while browsing around your shop. “What about your back Joel? I know its bad and I don’t want you to strain it more” you say while he’s touching the peeling paint. “I’m fine and I want to do it, not because I feel obligated to because if I didn’t want to I wouldn’t even offer and you know that” He talks softly, a tone he’s been only using when talking to you and almost reading your mind. You laugh and say back “I know Joel but if you’re going to do this I want to help your old ass” he looks at you offensively after you called him old and raise his eyebrow and you laugh, really laugh.

“fuck” you hear a loud crash and Joels yell from the other room, you start to jog towards the room “Joel? Are you okay?” you ask and step in to the room. The first thing you see is Joel, sitting on the floor leaning into a wall. “Joel?” you ask and walk towards the man “’m fine, just fell on my ass.” he grumbles and starts standing up but he flinched in pain and goes back down “Okay, lets get you up huh? And lets go sit on the couch.” You say and move over to him and help him up, he groans and walks slowly, slightly leaning on you. You slowly place him on to the couch “you want some coffee?” you ask and he nods, you go pour a cup for him “I was thinking about going to the bar today for a while, you wanna come with?” He asks you while you hand him his coffee. You think about it “sure I’ll come, is anyone else come I should know about?” you answer his question “Tommy is gonna be there” he says and takes a sip of his coffee while you start clean up the counter. “Alright then” you answer and start walking towards the stairs.

You walk in to the bar and try and spot the Miller brothers. “Flower” you hear a yell and see Joel and Tommy sitting down in one of the booths. You walk over “Hey Tom, how are you? And how is Maria? I haven’t seen her in a while?” you ask while you sit down next to Joel. “Shes good, pregnancy is just hittin’ her hard. And i’m doing good thanks, what about you? I’ve heard that you were thinking of painting the walls of you shop?” Tommy says to you. “Yeah I’m thinking about it but its a lot of work and I’m very indecisive about colors so I’m not sure what I would paint it as.” you explain and lean on the table in front of you. “You know I wanted to do it first flower” Joel adds and looks at you, you roll your eyes “I know that but I don’t want to make your back worse by painting for hours” you say and furrow your eyebrows at him. He laughs and says “you can massage it after” and winks at you playfully, you laugh “of course” you respond smiling and sigh. Tommy and Joel start a conversation and you just listen to it and space out.

“I’m going to get a drink, i’ll be back” you say to them and get up from the booth. You walk over to the counter “Hey zavi, one glass of wine please” you say to the man behind the counter, he nods and walks off to get your drink. “Hey girl, what do you say if we just get out of here” You suddenly hear a man next to you and you turn to see Liam, who you have talked a few times but you don’t really know him. “No thanks I’m here with friends” you answer and look away from him hoping he’ll get the hint. He doesn’t and continues to push “just ditch them, I want you” he says and steps closer.

You immediately feel uncomfortable “no, I’m sorry Liam but I don’t see you like that” you answer and step away from him. “What? You fucking bitch! You’ve just been leading me on! Fucking whore” he starts to yell angrily. “What? I never-“ you say and you see his palm rise to hit you. You flinch, close your eyes and prepare for the hit but it never comes. You peer your eyes open and see Joel standing in front of you holding Liams arm tightly “Back the fuck off.” he says coldly, “man this isn’t your business walk away” Liam says to Joel trying to get him out of your way. Suddenly Joel loses it and punches Liam “you fucking touch her ever again I swear to the lord’ I will fuck you up. You fucking hear me?” Joel yells at the man who is now on the floor, “okay okay man i’m sorry” is the only thing he says before he’s scrambling away from you. Joel turns to you “flower? are you okay?” he asks softly placing his palms on your face. Your eyes soften and you nod “yes, thank you Joel.” you say and smile gently at him. But then it hits you and your eyes widen “I- I need to go i’m sorry” you say and take fast steps away from Joel and get out of the bar. You continue walking outside and find a bench to sit on, you sigh and place your head into your hands.

“Flower? What’s going on?” you hear Joels soft voice from in front of you. You stand up and walk towards him slowly, “I need to ask you something.” You say to him and he nods “of course, what is it?” he asks. “When you said I was throwing myself to everyone did you mean this? Did you mean that because I try to be friendly people think I’m interested in them?” you ask your voice slightly shaking. His eyes widen “Sweet girl- I’m really sorry I shouldn’t have said that-“ he starts and you shake your head “No Joel I’m not mad about it anymore I just need to know if-“ You start but don’t continue after he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Listen to me flower, its not your fault that people mistake your kindness for somethin’ else because you know what? The kindness you have even though the world is all ugly and messed up is rare and it’s beautiful. You take pride on that ‘kay? You are kind to everyone and its one if your best traits. You hear me?” he talks sternly but not roughly. You smile, all the feelings you’ve been hiding slowly come up.

“Thank you Joel” you say and he looks at you like you’re the only person on this planet, “and the reason why I said what I did was because I think you’re absolutely beautiful and I was envious of the people who got your kindness and tried to push you away. I am really sorry about it I should’ve handled my feelings better” he tells you. Your eyes widen, he was.. Jealous? He puts a strand of hair behind your ear and leans his forehead on yours “I’m sorry sweet girl” you smile and put your hand on top of his on your shoulder “Its fine Joel” you respond. His eyes soften and you hesitate but say it anyway “is it okay if I kiss you?” you ask and he looks shocked for a second and then grins and nods “yes” he answers.

you kiss him

[reidispunk]

TAKE IT SLOW KID

JOEL MILLER x PLATONIC!READER

★⇢ summary; He saves you from the cruel life you’ve had but is it a mistake now after you begin to see him as a father-figure?

★⇢ warnings; angst, violence, mentions of death, slight trauma?,

★⇢ a/n; This is my first tlou fic so bare with me 😭 I hope the story makes sense like it did in my head and sorry if theres any mistakes, english isn’t my first language :)

★⇢ word count; 2,1k

Joel, like everyone else living in this fucked up world had changed after september 26th. His cold, ruthless demeanor had developed after his Sarah had died in his arms. He had convinced to himself that the paternal part of him was long gone and what remained was just a shell of a man, he had swore himself to never getting too close with too many people, or trusting them.

Until he saw you, lying on the ground while two grown ass men were beating you, a teenager, a kid. The feeling he swore would never come out again, he felt it in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he was holding Sarah, his baby girl again while she bled to death and all the memories, the painful feelings he tried to push down were coming back up again. He needed to walk away, he needed to suppress the feelings away but he just couldn’t, he couldn’t walk away because the painful screams you were letting you were getting to him.

He went to an autopilot, surged towards the men and the only goal was to save you. After he managed to scare the men and he slowly came up to you “hey kid, cmon up” he extended a hand towards you. You shook and slowly lifted your small hand in his, he pulled you up “wheres your parents kid?” he asked after he flinched his hand away from yours.

You knew you probably shouldn’t trust this stranger but he saved you from those men who have taunted you a while. His presence scared you but you felt safe. But after he asked you that question you shut down and he could probably see it. “Don’t know, probably dead. Thanks for saving me I should go-“ you said not wanting to get out of the conversation as soon as possible because you knew that the fedra people would come looking for you. But he stopped you before you could even take a step. “Slow down kid, where are you going to go then?” he asked. “I don’t know, I’m thankful but I can’t stay here” you said looking pleadingly at his eyes. He sighed “You’re a kid, should have a home at least.”

You look at your feet now, painful memories coming up how everyone you loved left you. “I don’t” is the only thing you get out

———————————————————————

“Tess where is the kid!” You hear Joel yell after he came back to his small home. Tess is not here but Michael is who is now holding a knife to your throat, you hear Joel yell your name and you know he’s looking for you.

“One fucking word and I kill you and the grandpa after you” you hear Michael behind you speak. Tears are now rolling down your eyes and you hope that Joel doesn’t come to the room, but at the same time you want him to save you. You want him to protect you from this man behind you but you know you shouldn’t hope that.

“This ‘ain’t funny anymore kid!” You hear his voice and you let out a sob. “Shut the fuck up bitch” you hear from behind you. Suddenly the door is being pushed open and you see him, the man who has saved you now multiple occasions and took to his home, gave you a bed and food. Something no one has done for you.

“Joel” you creek out while tears are rolling down you cheeks, you see the panic in his eyes. You never really cried in front of him before. “Look man I don’t want to fight, I only want the girl. Just let us go and nothing bad will happen” you hear Michael speak behind you. You know he’s scared of Joel but it didn’t stop him from coming for you.

Joel looks at him and sighs “fine” and he steps away from the room. What? No. No no no. He can’t do this to you. You let out a sob “I told you shut up you fucking stupid ass kid” michael says and you feel him move the knife and it makes a small cut to your throat.

He’s pushing you out of the room and you can’t even look at Joel, he’s abandoning you just like everyone else. You thought you could trust him, the times you had to hold yourself back from calling him dad after he took care of you are now haunting you while you walk towards his front door.

“What the fuc-“ you hear that man suddenly speak behind you and hes pulled off you and being stabbed by Joel. You stare at him, in shock. He had said yes- he actually didn’t mean it? You fall to your knees, the panic still tearing your insides. You start to sob, you can’t breathe. Why can’t you breathe? It feels like everything is slowing down. Suddenly you feel someone, a palm pressing down on your cheek “kid, hey everything is okay” You hear a muffled voice speaking.

“look at me, hey! Slow down kid” You finally recognize the voice, it’s dad- Joel. It’s Joel, he saved you, you’re okay. You look up to him now, you see an emotion you can’t quite understand. “Dad?” you say weakly, still not breathing evenly and immediately regret it because you see it in his eyes, the shock and you feel him physically tense up.

Joel never thought someone would be calling him that again, he does see Sarah in you. Whenever you let out a little laugh or you tease him about him he can’t help but think his baby girl. But now you’re shaking because you thought he would let them take you. “It’s okay, everything is okay, I got you” he forces out. He know that you’re smart and he knows you probably noticed the way he tensed after you called him.. that.

“I-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have called you that I-“ you imminent go back into a panic mode and apologize profusely. Joel says your name softly “its okay, slip ups happen” he says and you flinch but don’t say anything else.

You get up, avoiding Joels gaze and walking back to the room you claimed as yours. You close the door behind you after you hear Joels voice call after you. You can’t, you can’t look at him. It pains you how desperately you want him to accept you as what? His daughter? You know that there was a child, his child who died and you know it pains him so why are you even thinking this? Curling to the bed and pulling the sheets up to hide from the world but you hear joel open the door and step inside.

Tears are rolling down now, you don’t know why and you refuse to let Joel see it so you just hide your face from him. He says your name again and he sits down next to your curled up legs. “Look kid- I’m sorry I had you thinkin’ that I was going to let them take you. I swear that I would never do that to you” He says to you.

You sit up now but still don’t look at his face, you know he can see the tears now, “You- You should’ve let him.” you say to him “I know” you pause and wipe your tears “I know i’m a big burden on you and Tess and-“ you continue but Joel shuts you down “Thats not true. Kid you are no where close to being a burden” he says to you. You feel your head spin and suddenly you remeber the cut michael gave you, and lift a finger to feel it and you see your blood, you look at Joel and he already has the things to treat the wound.

Hes getting up and kneeling down in front of you, “I’m going to clean it first and then bandage it up, okay?” he says and you are just nodding. He does it fast as possible and it doesn’t hurt too bad. Now he’s looking at you “Joel I- thank you. And I’m sorry-“ he shakes his head and says “You have nothing to apologize for kid, I’m sorry for not keeping you safe enough” and that is what breaks you. You crumble and start sobbing, you hide your face in your hands in shame for not being stronger to hold it in. “Oh baby girl, it’s okay let it out” You hear Joel say while hes pulling you to his arms and he hugs you “he was going to kill me and- and” you say “I know, I know, shh” he says and rocks you side to side gently “he said he was going to kill you after me I- dad-“ you sob in to his shoulder not even noticing that you called him that again, but he does.

Joel feels it in his guts, “baby shh, i’m fine. Everything is okay” and he stays there until you calm down.

He notices your steady breathing and he realizes that you fell asleep on him, he sighs and gently places you to the bed. He knows this is not a good life for a kid, he found you when you were about 11years old and he watched you grow right in front of him. You are older now but still a kid, he knows he’s attached to you but he pushes the thoughts down and quietly leaves the room after tucking you in.

——

“Joel!” He hears you scream and he’s up in a flash “dad?” you yell and he bursts in to your room to see you toss in you bed. He walks over to you “Hey kid, wake up everything is okay” he gently shakes you and you don’t wake up. He says your name but you still don’t open your eyes but you’re still panicking about something in your dream “no please no don’t hurt him please, hes all i have” you yell.

Now he’s shaking you again but with a little more force “baby girl” he says and you shoot up and breathe unsteadily. He sees the panic in your eyes while you look at him “hey i’m here, you’re okay” he says to you and he sees you start examining him “you’re okay” you say and then he realizes, you weren’t worried about yourself at all. He has always knew you were selfless and tender hearted like many kids but he didn’t realize you were so worried about him “i’m okay baby, i’m okay” he says and looks at you with gentle eyes. Suddenly you throw your arms around him, he didn’t expect that but hugs you back regardless.

“You know you remind me of my daugher Sarah” he starts and he feels you tense slightly. “You don’t need to talk about it Joel, I know it’s a touchy subject” you say with a crooked voice. His heart tugs and he continues “I want to tell you about her, she had a beautiful smile just like yours and- and she was a snarky girl like you” his voice cracks. All the memories flood back, his Sarah just after she was born, her first day at school and when she repaired his watch for him for his birthday.

“She would’ve liked you kid, and you would have liked her.” he says and puts his palm to the back of your head and sighs. “I would have, she seems like she was a great person” you answer him.

“I had a sister.” you start. Trying to stay calm you continue “She was my best friend, she was all I had after my parents.. She protected me from the world and I owe her everything. She-“ you can’t keep your tears away anymore. Joel gives you time to gather yourself “After we got into the QZ they separated us and put me in the fedra school and she had to work. The first time i saw her after they separated us was when she was about to leave to smuggle something for more rationcards because she was struggling. I insisted that I would come with her because she was all I had, she said yes and we went outside.” You continue while trying to gather yourself “We got stuck in a building and there were so many of them, the- the infected chased us around the building until we found a door and I tried to open it but it was jammed but I managed, I stepped outside and she.. didn’t come out, i heard her say that she loves me and get back to the QZ and I stood there, while the infected were ripping my sister to pieces I-“ you choke up a sob “I listened her screams and I fucking couldn’t do anything I- I couldn’t move, maybe if i convinced her not to go she still would be-“ you couldn’t continue, sobbing to Joels shirt while he slowly rubs your back.

“It’s not your fault.” Is the only thing he says while he tries to calm you down. “It’s not your fault” he says again.