#this is going to be as canon as possible as well as self indulgent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 9 months

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fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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sinsofsummers · 10 months

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push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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waywardxrhea · 26 days

Text

Heart's Desire - a Spencer Reid one shot

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 9.58k

When working a serial killer case in Tennessee, you become the bait for a violent unsub whose victims all match your description. When going after the man you collapse and are rushed to the hospital for medical treatment.

a/n: so yes, this is a Reader one shot, but it is super niche so...whoops? this honestly was just a super self-indulgent fic for me to write because i can't say i have ever seen the heart condition i had presented in the media and i really wanted to explore how Spencer may interact with it, so here we are! this is my first time writing for the criminal minds fandom, so shout out to my bestie who helped me out with coming up with case details and smaller plot points that have been incorporated into this little one shot!

content: fluff (oh how i adore the fluff in this one!), multilingual Reader, secret relationship, implied smut (if you squint lol), insecure Reader, Reader fits the victimology, graphic description of canon level violence, Reader is bait for the unsub, protective Spencer, mentions of jealous and possessive Spencer, language, medical emergencies, small medical inaccuracies (no AED on the scene - i had to do it for the drama don't judge), crying Spencer.

(not my gif), CM dividers by @firefly-graphics , EKG dividers by me

“Good morning, beautiful,” you heard Spencer’s sleep ridden voice mumble from behind you as you began to stir awake with the sun that was filtering in through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom. The two of you had just gotten back from a case the day before and you were utterly exhausted. All you wanted to do was sleep in, and although he had bought blackout curtains for this exact reason, the sun still somehow managed to slip through, which you cursed the manufacturer for every time…

You flipped around in his arms to face him and sent a sleepy smile at him before mumbling, “Bonjour mon amour.”

“Oh so it’s a French morning?” Spencer asked with a quiet chuckle as he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

“I was debating between that and Italian, but… French usually gets us to where I would love to spend this free day with you,” you replied with a smirk before leaning up to kiss him.

After a few slow and loving kisses, Spencer pulled away for a brief moment to rest his forehead on yours and say, “You know since we just got back from a case out of state that took so long to solve, the odds of the team getting called back out are significantly lower than if-”

And then your phones started ringing.

“What were you saying about the odds being low?” you muttered with a sigh as you turned back over in the bed and grabbed your phone off of the nightstand. You heard the automated voice on the other side tell you that there was a case the BAU was requested to work and that your presence was requested as soon as possible.

As you sighed and closed your eyes briefly while you tried to sink back into the pillow, Spencer noted, “Well I did say the odds were low, not zero…” You couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto your face at the comment as you laughed and lightly hit him in the bare chest with a throw pillow.

“‘Never tell me the odds,’” you told him as you reluctantly began getting out of bed, sitting up on the edge and stretching to wake up your tired muscles.

Spencer positioned himself to where his legs were on either side of you and wrapped his arms around your torso before kissing your neck and mumbling, “No matter how many times you quote Han Solo at me, it’s not gonna stop me from telling you the odds of things, you know that right?”

“I know, I know…” you told him with a giggle as you toyed with his hands that were clasped in front of your stomach. “So how far apart do we have to leave again so they aren’t suspicious?”

“Well your apartment is about a thirty minute commute from the office while mine is twenty depending on traffic, so you'll leave ten minutes after me,” he reminded you as you both began to get up and untangle yourselves from each other. “I have an extra go-bag packed for you in the closet as well as a few outfits so you aren’t wearing the same clothes you came home in yesterday.”

“You’re the best, Spence,” you told him quietly as you both made your way into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

As you jumped into the shower to take advantage of your extra ten minutes, you thought about your relationship with Spencer. You two had started dating about a year after you joined the BAU and out of fear of getting in trouble, like two teenagers you hid the relationship from your teammates. Your transfer from Homeland Security was prompted when your interrogation and hostage negotiation tactics landed you on the BAU’s radar and you very quickly became fast friends with the whole team. So with the guise of being your usual friendly self, it truthfully hadn’t been too hard to hide the relationship from your friends. And while Spencer was hesitant about hiding a relationship from a group of people like the BAU team, your fear of being let go as the “more inferior” member out of the two of you was what convinced him to keep it a secret. It also prompted him to lecture you on your clear inferiority complex, but that was neither here nor there.

“I’ll see you there, drive safe,” Spencer told you before kissing your cheek as you wrapped yourself in your towel to dry off while finishing your routine.

“You too,” you replied, giving him a peck on the lips before he began walking out of the restroom and apartment to head to headquarters.

When you got to HQ, you yawned as you made a beeline for the break room for some much needed caffeine. When you got inside, you cordially told Spencer and Derek, “Good morning you two,” as you poured your coffee, creamer, and sugar into the mug you always had on your desk. It was your parting gift from your Homeland team that was in the shape of the sun and what prompted your nickname from Derek.

He laughed as he watched you and Spencer prepare your coffees, telling you, “You know Sunshine, I think with how much creamer you put in that you may have Pretty Boy beat on sugar consumption.”

“Ha ha very funny,” you told him with a playful roll of your eyes as you turned to walk from the break room and into the bullpen.

As the three of you ambled into the area, Hotch emerged from his office and announced, “Sorry to call you all in so soon after getting back from a case, but this one is something we aren’t taking lightly and needs to be stopped because the unsub is escalating quickly.” So after a quick briefing on what he knew of the case, Hotch told you all to be prepared for wheels up in thirty.

When the plane landed in Tennessee later that afternoon and you stood up from your perch, you stumbled a bit when you felt your heart give an irregular stutter in your chest. “You okay, kid?” David asked you with concern in his eyes after seeing the brief moment of panic flit across your features.

“Yeah, fine, just feeling a bit off after that flight I guess,” you replied, taking a deep breath and straightening up which seemed to do the trick as your heart began beating in a regular rhythm once more.

“You know, I wouldn’t say I blame you if you were a bit anxious,” he told you as you both exited the jet and started making your way to the black SUVs awaiting your arrival. “It isn’t every day we get cases as violent as this one, especially when the victims…”

“All look like me?” you supplied quietly when he trailed off at the end of his sentence. It was true that when you began going over the pertinent files on the flight that all of the unsub’s victims shared many of your physical features, and while that did alarm you, you knew that your team would have your back during this case no matter what. You placed a small smile on your lips as you told him, “I’ll rest easier when this guy’s behind bars.”

“That’s the spirit,” he told you with a warm smile as you loaded into the SUV, your bag at your feet and your case file in your lap as you continued to read over what all the unsub had been up to in the last couple of months.

After you all got to the local police precinct and got settled in and assigned tasks, you made your way to their break room for another cup of coffee, only to be followed in by Spencer a few moments later. As you both made your drinks, you casually turned so you were leaning on the counter and watching over the office as Spencer asked, “Are you okay?”

“You know, Dave asked me the same thing, I’m starting to think you guys are more worried about me than I am,” you told him, your lips covered by your cup in case anyone you couldn't see was watching.

“I always worry about you,” Spencer told you softly as he stirred his sugary drink.

“And I, you, but for now we need to work on getting this guy in cuffs and it won’t happen if either of us get distracted,” you said with a sort of finality in your tone, determined to make sure you conveyed a sense of confidence or else you too may fall victim to worrying about yourself instead of working the case.

As you walked out to the desk where you were allowed to set up, Penelope ran past you, almost toppling you over as she shouted, “Hotch, I found out how he’s luring the victims!”

“How?” your unit chief asked as she made his company. The team had barely been here a couple hours and the locals' work was already being combed through and missing clues were being found.

“Dating apps! On every victim’s phone was a dating app and she had planned a date with a man from there. None of the men’s accounts were the same and none of them had common pictures, but the unsub always used the same lines when chatting the women up!” she told him in a rush as she showed him pages she had printed out while doing her dive into the womens' phones.

Spencer emerged from the break room with his coffee in hand, saying, “Well based on that knowledge we can assume that dating apps have a significant meaning to him.”

From her place nearby, JJ spoke up, saying, “Every victim had her left ring finger severed off, maybe his wife cheated on him using one?”

As Derek walked into the room with David hot on his heels, he added, “And turns out they also had their ovaries taken out by the unsub.”

“As well as their cervix glued shut with industrial sealant before their genitals were mutilated,” David supplied, his head shaking as he handed Hotch the ME reports.

A scoff huffed out of your chest before you mused, “So he feels slighted by his ex wife and has decided that in order to pacify that anger he does what he wishes he could to her to the victims…”

“Do we know if any of the victims was the ex wife?” Derek asked.

“Nope, all the victims are single women who have been on dating apps for quite some time and none of them have an active or otherwise marriage license under their name,” Penelope replied.

“Good work everyone, let’s get to work finding this guy,” Hotch said. “Find out all you can, I want to give this brief before nightfall.”

“Yes sir,” you all replied before once again splitting off into your assigned tasks.

Right as the sun began to set that evening, Hotch called everyone together and the team began giving the locals the brief on the unsub. Hotch of course began the brief, informing the locals, “The unsub is a caucasian male in his mid thirties to early forties who we believe to have a medical background in surgery and likely just went through a rough divorce."

You were the next to speak, announcing, “We believe he was cheated on by his ex wife, which is what triggered the break and the murders. The victims all share common features which we assume are also shared by the ex wife.” As you said this, you clicked the remote in your hand and on the board behind you popped up the faces of the victims.

With the slightest tremor in his voice, Spencer was the next to piggyback, saying, “The victims have all been found with mutilated genitals as well as their left ring finger cut off. The unsub also took the time to use industrial glue to seal the victim’s cervix shut and to cut out her ovaries.”

Derek was next to speak, adding to Spencer’s statement, “The cause of death in all the victims was prolonged blood loss. This tells us that he's performing these rituals while the victim is still alive.”

“He’s tech savvy, enough so that he is able to create difficult to trace profiles on dating apps on which he seduces victims before murdering them,” Penelope said sadly.

JJ was next, telling the team, “The only evidence that he’s left behind are the bodies in secluded dump locations and as of right now we do not know where the victims are being killed.”

David was the last to speak, rounding out the brief with, “All of this combined leads us to believe that he is a very calculated and dangerous individual who needs to be found before he strikes again.” When he was done, Hotch dismissed everyone to begin their search with this new information.

“Hey chief?” came a voice from the front of the office a few minutes later. Both the local police chief and Hotch looked up at the young man expectantly before he replied, “There’s been another victim…”

“He’s escalating again…” Hotch mumbled as he ran a hand over his chin. “There was a lot less time between victims. We need to work faster.”

“Yes sir,” everyone replied before attempting to double down on their work.

As they all began working, the gears in your mind began to spin and when you finally formulated a plan, you approached Hotch and said, “Sir, I think I may have an idea on how to catch him.”

“How?”

“We do a sting. Penelope makes a dating profile for me on one of those apps and we use me as bait,” you told him, never breaking eye contact to convey that you were serious about the idea. “If we can get someone inside then we get our guy as well as possible evidence for half a dozen murders.”

Hotch sighed before saying your name warily. “You know how risky that is.”

“And that risk is something I am willing to take in order to stop this guy. If we don’t do this then there may be another victim tomorrow, maybe two,” you said. Squaring your shoulders, you added, “I agreed to take this job in order to help people. I fit the victimology. This is how I can help.”

A few moments of silence passed as Hotch seemed to weigh his options before he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he said, “Fine. I’ll think through the details. I want everyone well rested tonight before we start planning tomorrow. You and Garcia share a room at the hotel so she can start making that profile for you.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a small smile and a nod before heading off to find Penelope so you two could head to the hotel and begin.

“So are you on one of these apps normally?” Penelope asked as the two of you sat beside each other on the hotel bed, laptop and phones in hand to create this fake profile for yourself.

“Me? No, I don’t trust them for this exact reason,” you replied, shuddering as you thought about the poor women who thought they were simply going to meet a new man but paid with their lives and dignity.

“Oh I see,” Penelope said before instructing you to find a specific type of photo in your camera roll that the unsub may find attractive. “Are you dating at all?”

“Oh, uh, not really,” you said, trying to pace your words so they didn’t seem panicky. “This job takes up a lot of my time and all so it would be hard to find time for a relationship between cases.”

“You have an excellent point, but you can’t let something like that hold you back! You deserve all the happiness in the world!” she told you cheerfully as she continued typing away at the laptop. “What are your interests?”

Smiling inwardly at how the subject turned from your dating life you told her, “Reading, rom coms, coffee, patisseries, art, the occasional drink.” As you thought for a moment, you added, “Ooh, make sure you put ‘not looking for anything serious.’ I think that’s something that may trigger the unsub into choosing my profile.”

“Smart!” she replied before selecting that option on the profile. “We should do this more often! Maybe when this is all said and done we can make you a real one and I can just do a background check of the person before you go on a date!”

You laughed lightly as you told her, “Let’s make sure I survive this case first then we’ll go from there.”

The next morning came and went as the team tried to track the guy to no avail, so right before lunch, Hotch gathered everyone around and announced, “Okay, this unsub is proving hard to find by other methods, so we’ve decided to pull a sting. We can’t just sit around waiting for our surprisingly extensive list of divorced surgeons to make a move.” He motioned to you and Penelope and said, “These two worked on creating a fake dating profile that the unsub may fall for. The plan is to get him alone and our resident interrogator will pull a confession out of him.”

“Wait what?” Spencer asked immediately, his eyes wide. “Is it a good idea to send her in when we know the unsub is escalating?”

“It’s the only lead we can get right now,” Hotch told him. “If we don’t do this tonight then we may risk another woman dying at his hands.”

“Yeah, and it may be her,” Derek said a bit sharply, the idea of sending you into the belly of the beast not sitting right with him either.

“Not if we’re all on our A-games when it goes down,” David said in an attempt to calm the younger men down. “If you’re so concerned, we can send you into wherever he asks to meet her so we can have eyes on her the entire time." He chuckled before adding, "Derek, not you Spencer, no offense but you do tend to stick out like a sore thumb in certain environments."

“But-” Spencer tried, but was cut off by Hotch.

“No buts, we’re doing this. Tonight. Garcia, activate the profile.”

“Yes sir,” she replied quietly before opening up her phone and clicking a few buttons. “It’s done.”

“Good.” He turned to you and said your name to get your attention. “Just make sure you reply to any account that may fit the profile. Garcia will run a trace on it to see when it was created since we knew he makes a new account for every victim.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, nodding your head as you pulled out your phone and got to work. While you scrolled through the app and took a seat in one of the secluded offices to eat your lunch, you were startled by another presence entering the room without knocking. “Geez Spence, you scared me!” you scolded him, clutching your chest in a vain attempt to slow your racing heart.

“And you’re scaring me,” he told you as he shuttered the blinds to prevent any passersby from seeing the two of you in there together. As you sat your phone down on the table, he covered your hand with his and asked sincerely, “Are you okay with this plan?”

You nodded. “It was my idea. We need to get this guy before another innocent woman dies.”

Echoing Derek, he asked, “And what if that turns out to be you?”

You scoffed humorously before deadpanning, “And you really think you’d let that happen?” After he floundered with his words for a few seconds, you kissed him gently before saying, “I trust that if anything goes sideways you’ll be there to save me. You always are. I just need you to trust me and my judgment on this one. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s just-” he tried, but you cut him off with another kiss.

“Just trust me, love,” you told him once you pulled away again.

After you said this, your phone pinged with a notification that caught your attention. You picked it up and saw that there was a new message in your dating app’s inbox. “Hey beautiful, you look like you are in need of some company. How about you meet me at Monroe’s tonight and we see where this goes,” Spencer read with disdain in his voice. He cringed before saying, “Please say that’s not what I sounded like flirting with you…”

You laughed, telling him, “No, the poetry you quoted at me was much more romantic than that line.” You placed one more quick kiss to his lips before telling him, “I’m gonna have Penny run this profile and we’ll see if it could be our guy.”

Turns out there was a high chance of it being your guy, seeing as the profile was created just hours before and yours was the only account that he interacted with. So after a chat with Hotch about the plan to get this guy to confess, you got dressed in a little black number and silver heels, finishing your look with the most effortful hair and makeup you had done in a while. When you emerged into the precinct you saw that Spencer was the only one in the immediate area. “Where is everyone?” you asked.

“Getting the gear ready and briefing the police. I got the distinct honor of greeting you,” he told you with a warm smile as he drank in your appearance. His eyes darted around the room to ensure the two of you were alone before he wrapped you in his arms and kissed the top of your head, mumbling into your hair, “Tu es magnifique.”

“Merci beaucoup,” you replied, feeling a heat rush up your neck and into your cheeks at his words. No matter how long you and Spencer had been together, whenever he flirted with you, especially in any of the different languages you spoke, you still got flustered.

When Spencer’s arms quickly untangled themselves from your embrace you rightly assumed that the team was emerging into the offices once more. Hotch called out your name before asking, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied with a nod, smoothing out your dress before joining the team near the door.

On the way to the bar in the taxi you were assigned to take, Hotch went over the plan once more, detailing to you that Derek was already at the bar to keep an eye on you in case things went sideways, that you are to attempt to get any sort of confession out of the unsub, and if you can get information on where the killings were happening that would be even better. You had a plan in mind to attempt and get inside his head and get him to confess without even realizing it, so as you walked into the bar you feigned confidence as you walked up and sat on a barstool to wait for the unsub to approach you.

Derek sat across the room behind you to your left, near the door, and his soothing voice came through the in-ear you had, saying, “All right Sunshine, if things go sideways you just say the word and I’m all over this guy.”

“Just trust me,” you told him quietly as you took your first drink from the water glass that the bartender handed you with your drink.

“I believe I’m supposed to be meeting you here?” came a voice from beside you a few minutes later.

You turned toward the voice and smiled in greeting. He did fit the profile, strikingly actually. You noticed a tan line on his left ring finger and how his hands were slightly cracked and dry, perhaps from surgical scrubbing at his job. You offered out your hand for him to kiss as well as your name before telling him, “I believe so. And you’re already nearly half a drink behind, so why don’t you catch up, handsome?”

“I think we can make that arrangement,” he said after kissing your knuckles.

"That was smooth, remind me why you're single again?" JJ asked with a quiet laugh through the in-ear.

You kept your facial expression in response to the comment neutral as the unsub ordered his drink from the bartender. When the two of you began talking, the team kept their ends of the coms silent as you worked to get what information you needed from the unsub.

During the conversation, you almost dragged out what you wanted from him, but he always skirted around it. You knew he was your man though, that was plain as day when he spoke about his ex wife who he told you moved off to California to be with the man she cheated on him with. During the conversation, Penelope informed you quietly that she had found record of the woman as well as IDing the man sitting across from you as Doctor Samuel Costner, who specialized in abdominal surgery.

After another paced drink from you and a couple more for him, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you, his hands splaying out over the tops of your thighs as he asked, “How about I take you back to my place and show you a good time?”

Bingo. His place. One of the things the team couldn’t figure out was where the unsub lived, otherwise it would have been much easier to locate him and the possible murder site. With this information in mind, you leaned back into his embrace and told him, “I like the sound of that.”

The silence from the team was broken as Spencer’s voice asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“As long as we tail them it should be fine,” you heard JJ tell him.

“We have his name now though, can’t we just have Garcia dig into where he lives and go from there?” Spencer countered.

“And go in with what suspicion? We need evidence that he’s killing there in order to step onto the property,” JJ replied.

“But this is a controlled scene, if she gets in the car with him we can’t control what happens in there. What if we lose the truck on the backroads? This is too risky, I’m-”

“Reid sit down and trust her,” you heard Hotch scold him, a finality in his voice. “What we need is a location and she’s getting us exactly that. Now sit back and let her work or else I’m pulling you from this case.”

“Yes sir…” Spencer eventually said.

“Remember the signal,” Derek mumbled as you and the man made your way out of the bar and to his truck.

A nearly thirty minute drive took you to a farm that had vast amounts of pastures and trails hidden within the woods as well as a large picturesque barn that looked just like they all did in the movies. “So this is where you live huh? It’s beautiful…” you breathed as you looked around, trying to take in any specific details you may need to relay to the team in case they weren’t able to tail you.

He nodded as he pulled up in front of the barn, putting his hand on your thigh as he said, “Family owned and operated since the 1800s. And while I don’t do much of the labor around here because of work, I am still the proud owner. Maybe you could be too one day.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked in your most alluring voice as you slightly widened the space between your thighs, the gesture making you feel filthy, but if this was how you caught the unsub then so be it.

The kisses that he gave you started off innocently enough, but soon turned aggressive and you cringed inwardly at the fact that you knew the team was listening to everything from their end of the coms. You didn't even want to think about what was going through Spencer's mind - the man had a reputation of being jealous and possessive sometimes when you two went out and guys flirted with you.

Before you knew it, the unsub was coming over to your side of the truck and opening the door. He pulled you into his arms and asked, “How about we go for a roll in the hay?” You giggled innocently before agreeing, subtly eyeing the black SUVs that had begun to creep onto the outskirts of the property line with their headlights out. They followed you. Good.

So as he took you deeper into the barn and to an area that was lined with tarps that had seen better days, your eyes began scrutinizing every little thing that could be evidence that he had killed those women here. And you found it as you eyed a corner of another tarp that seemed to have dried blood on it.

Right as you were about to sneak in your code word to the team to signal you had what you needed, you heard Spencer’s distinct voice shouting, “FBI, hands where I can see them!”

“Shit!” the man shouted before jumping off of you and darting away, the large knife you had somehow not noticed before dropping to the ground as he sprinted off.

“We’ve got a rabbit!” you shouted, tossing off your heels and beginning to run after him. “I’m taking the back exit, someone go around the side!”

“On it!” JJ called as she began running around the other side of the barn to cut him off.

When you ran out of the door you saw him leave out of, you were met with a wooden fence that he had jammed in the few moments you were distracted. Not wanting to waste any time, you opted to climb the fence, jumping over and landing awkwardly on your feet. When you did, you felt your heart give an irregular stutter in your chest before starting to beat rapidly. As you stood up, you began to get light headed and it felt like cotton filled your ears as you faintly heard a commotion around the corner of the barn. Heat seemed to fill every part of your body and your vision started to tunnel as you gasped for air, stumbling around to try and steady yourself on the side of the barn before your body gave in and collapsed.

“Stay down!” JJ sternly told the man as she pinned him to the ground and cuffed him. “Samuel Costner, you’re under arrest for the murder of six women.”

As JJ recited his rights and escorted him to one of the police cruisers that had emerged on the scene, Spencer looked around and asked where you were. “Didn’t she say she was going out the back?” Derek asked. “I didn’t see her come back around…”

Panic filled Spencer’s body immediately and he began quickly making his way around the barn with Derek hot on his heels. What if Costner got to you in desperation before JJ arrested him? What if you were bleeding out behind the barn? He had to get to you quickly.

When he rounded the corner and saw you collapsed on the ground, he shouted your name before sprinting over and feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds and some quick math, he said, “Her heart rate is 238 and she feels clammy… She’s not bleeding that I can see, but she’s hardly breathing. Derek!”

“On it!” he shouted, pulling out his walkie to dispatch an ambulance to the location. “They said it’ll take about twenty minutes to get here.”

“She might not have twenty minutes!” Spencer snapped as he watched your now frail body and how you were losing color quickly. With a strength that Derek didn’t know he had, Spencer lifted you into his arms and began carrying you to one of the SUVs, telling him, “Get one of the officers to give us an escort, we’re taking her!”

“Oh, got it!” Derek stuttered out before barking orders at an officer and getting into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked as she quickly jumped into the passenger seat while Spencer got you and himself into the back seat.

They took off at a rapid speed, Derek intending on cutting the ride to the hospital in half at least as he pushed the pedal into the floor as far as it would go.

“I don’t know, her heart is racing though and we found her collapsed,” Spencer told her, his own breath beginning to come in rapidly as he began to panic.

“Spence, look at me,” JJ told him gently which prompted him to look up at her. “We’re gonna figure it out. She’ll be okay. What do we know?”

As he ran his thumb over your jaw in a way of soothing himself, Spencer rattled off to JJ, “Well obviously she was in a state of stress during the sting, but even a panic attack wouldn’t cause her heart to beat this fast, panic attacks top out at about 200 beats per minute. She’s usually good at controlling her anxiety anyway, especially under pressure like this… He couldn’t have drugged her at the bar because she got all her drinks directly from the bartender and she was cognizant of what she was doing and saying the whole time. As far as I know, at her last doctor’s appointment she was given a clean bill of health…”

“Well not being drugged is good, we can work with that,” JJ reassured him. She checked the map on her phone and said, “We’re almost there, just hang in there.”

When you arrived at the hospital, Spencer carried you in and placed you on the stretcher that was waiting at the triage door. “What happened?” a nurse asked as a doctor walked up while the team began placing EKG leads all over your chest.

“We’re FBI. We were working a case and she was chasing down a perp. I didn’t see her come back from where she said she was going and I found her like this,” Spencer replied as he began following them while they pushed you into a room, JJ and Derek hot on his heels.

“Any significant medical history?” she asked as they began plugging the wires into machines which immediately began blaring with alarms.

As Spencer began rattling off your medical history, two of the nurses escorted JJ and Derek into the hall to clear some space for the medical team. After two nurses got IVs started in your left arm, another came running in with some syringes and vials of medication. As they began preparing the medication, the doctor looked toward Spencer and told him, “We’re about to give her a medication that’s going to stop her heart.”

“What?!” he shouted, his eyes wide.

Calmly the doctor continued, saying, “It’s got a super short half-life so it’ll only be for a few moments and then her heart should go back into a normal rhythm. It’s a very routine drug. She may feel sore afterward but that is to be expected.”

And so a pair of nurses worked together to quickly administer the medication and sure enough for a few moments he watched the monitor as your heart stopped and Spencer could practically feel his own stop too. The tension in his shoulders eased up slightly as your heart returned to a normal 88 beats per minute but then alarms started blaring again within seconds as the EKG suddenly looked like a toddler was scribbling on the monitor. Spencer knew that rhythm from a book he read one time and knew that it was deadly if not treated quickly. In a blind rage, he shouted at the doctor, “You said that medication would help! Look what happened! I want a different doctor on her case right now and-”

“Get him out of here and call a code blue!” the doctor called before shouting orders to the rest of the team, two of which began trying to escort Spencer from the room.

“You can’t just-!” he shouted in frustration before he felt a hand on his shoulder that squeezed gently.

“Let them work,” came Derek’s voice from behind him.

When Spencer wrestled himself out of the nurses’ hold and watched them go back into the room and close the door that now had a blue light above it, both JJ and Derek saw the dangerous look in his eye, but JJ was the one brave enough to ask, “What the hell was that about Spence? You can’t just yell at the doctor like that! He was trying to help!”

“Him trying to help sent her into v-fib and now her heart isn’t working!” he retaliated, running a hand through his messy hair. He watched in horror as another group of nurses came running up with the crash cart and darted into the room. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes as he turned away and stalked off down the hall, unsure of what to do with himself at the moment.

“Spence!” JJ called after him, about to follow him, but was stopped when a gentle hand grabbed her forearm.

“Let him go,” said David as he too watched Spencer’s retreating form.

JJ sighed in frustration and said, “I just don’t know what’s gotten into him! Why would he yell at them? Yeah I’m worried too but that was a whole other level. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him that mad.”

“Just think about it from his perspective,” David told her vaguely before encouraging the two of them to meet the rest of the team in the waiting room.

Once the pair of them parted ways, David sighed and took off in the direction he saw Spencer going. When he found him a few hallways over staring out a window into nothingness, David cleared his throat and asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“From the time I found her with her heart beating that fast it’s been twenty-eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds give maybe three minutes from the moment she took off after Costner. It’s been two minutes and forty-eight seconds since that doctor sent her into v-fib and effectively made her heart useless as a pump,” Spencer mumbled.

“That’s not what I meant, kid,” David told him, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. He leaned his back against the window and said, “I know love when I see it.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, his back straightening as it clicked in his mind what he was implying.

Now David chuckled as he said, “Don’t lie to me, kid. I see the way you two look at each other. The way you joke around together. You’re relaxed around her.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And between you and me, I’ve seen you two sneak off together when you thought no one was looking.”

Spencer cringed at the last bit, but couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips at the thought of you. “We’ve been together for just over a year,” he said softly, the smile growing wider as he remembered your anniversary a few weeks prior. That smile quickly faltered though when he remembered what was happening in that hospital room a few halls down.

“She’s going to pull through,” David said gently, his hand landing on Spencer’s back, giving him a gentle pat.

When he said that, Spencer’s phone started ringing with a call from Hotch, who told him, “She’s stable and resting, they gave her a sedative so she doesn’t overwork herself again. The rest of us need to finish up at the scene. I trust you can get your paperwork done on the jet later. Call with updates please.”

“Yes sir,” Spencer replied, a tinge of hope in his voice at the words.

“Well?” David asked expectantly when Spencer hung up.

“She’s stable!” he told him, the tension in his shoulders leaving as he exhaled deeply.

“Then go to her!” David said, a smile on his face.

“I-I will!” Spencer said, turning to take off toward the room he left you in. Before he could leave the older gentleman’s presence though, he asked, “David?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell Hotch.”

“It’s not my secret to tell,” he replied with a nod before he answered his cell, presumably with his own call from their unit chief.

The wait for you to wake up took longer than Spencer would have liked, and by then they already had to move you out of the emergency department and to a cardiac monitoring floor to make room for more emergencies. When your eyes finally fluttered open in the early hours of the morning, you cringed at the bright light coming from the window before orienting yourself to your surroundings. You were in a hospital room that much was clear, and beside you was Spencer, with one hand in yours and the other holding up what looked like a map that you assumed was a medication insert. Only Spencer would be reading up on whatever medications they may have given you for whatever you ended up in here for…

“Spence?” you whispered to get his attention. When his hazel eyes flicked away from the pamphlet and met yours, you could see how they instantly flooded with tears as a smile made its way onto his face. As he gently threw his arms around you, you asked, “What happened?”

“When you ran after the unsub you collapsed and your heart was beating extremely fast. I got you into the SUV and Derek drove you here to get treated,” he replied, his voice muffled by your hair. You could hear this disdain in this voice as he added, “They gave you this medication that stopped your heart and was supposed to put you back into a normal rhythm but it ended up making things worse. You went into an even deadlier heart rhythm and they had to shock you. No CPR thankfully, but the nurses said that if that first shock didn’t get you back they would have had to…” He pulled you impossibly closer as he whispered, “I was so scared. I thought I lost you…”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you attempted to comfort him by rubbing soothing circles into his back. That was a lot to take in, but you hated seeing Spencer so upset and that was your biggest concern at the moment.

You cleared your throat, but before you could ask what was on your mind, there was a knock at the door and two people came in, a nurse and a doctor of cardiology. The doctor sent you a warm smile and said, “It’s good to see you awake Miss, you gave the ED team a real scare last night!”

“It was the doctor down there that caused such a fuss…” Spencer muttered, which earned a squeeze of your hand that warned him to be cordial.

“Yes, that’s actually what I came up here to talk to you two about, er, you Miss.” He glanced down to your hands and didn’t notice a ring, so he asked, “And what’s your relation may I ask? Are you okay with him being here for this?”

“He’s my boyfriend and yes he’s allowed to be here. If I don’t remember something that big brain in there will,” you said, a quiet laugh leaving your lips.

“Okay, great!” the doctor said as he clapped his hands together. “So when you came in, you were in what we call SVT which they treated with a medication called adenosine since you were unresponsive. It’s a fairly routine drug for emergent SVT conversion. When they gave it to you however, it threw your heart into V-fib which essentially caused your heart muscles to quiver instead of contract. In my years of experience, I’ve only ever seen one condition that would cause that medication to make your heart react like that.” He motioned for the nurse to hand the two of you a piece of paper as he continued, “What I think may be going on is called Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. It’s a condition in which the conduction system in your heart misfires and sends you into SVT. Luckily enough it’s easily treated with a heart ablation surgery, but you will have to go through the steps of a formal diagnosis before going through with that as this is just a guess. Do you have any questions for me?”

You looked at the doctor for a moment, your eyes wide as you shook your head no, unsure why you did it, but in your state of shock you didn’t know what else to do. You were sure whatever research Spencer does on the condition would answer any of your later questions anyway. Through the ringing in your ears you of course heard Spencer’s muffled voice asking the doctor as many questions as he could think of after reading through the education packet, but you paid no attention as you thought of the implications this might have on your job and life as a whole…

What felt like only a few moments passed in the fog of noise and chaos in your brain before you were gently pulled back to reality by Spencer’s soothing voice as he called out your name to get your attention. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asked when your eyes finally met with his concerned ones.

“Too much… I don’t wanna think about it right now…” you whispered, a tear slipping from your eye as an array of emotions blasted through your body. He pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back, not pushing the topic further for the moment.

Wanting a change in subject, you cleared your throat and focused on work, asking, “Did we get him? The unsub?”

As Spencer pulled away and tried to discreetly wipe a tear from his cheek, he laughed incredulously before saying, “All thanks to you.”

“Good. At least he’s put away now,” you said, relaxing as much as you could into the stiff hospital bed.

Spencer looked at you and shook his head in disbelief as he said, “Only you could be told your heart stopped practically twice and that you may need surgery to fix it and you’re still more concerned about if we caught the unsub or not.”

“What can I say, I was passionate about putting that one away,” you said, forcing a small smile on your face.

Spencer for the first time in a while was at a loss of words for what else to say on the subject, so instead he simply whispered, “I love you,” before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

The two of you quickly broke away from each other when you heard a squeal and something hitting the floor behind Spencer. When you both looked over to identify the sound, you saw your team standing in the room holding various gifts as well as your go-bag and some palatable food for breakfast. “You two! I- We- You-!” Penelope stuttered out as her eyes darted from your face to Spencer’s and back. She quickly crouched down and picked up what turned out to be a pack of makeup removing wipes before asking, “When did this happen?!”

“My man!” Derek said with a sly smile on his face as he went over to clap Spencer on the back.

“I- We can explain!” Spencer said, a bit of desperation in his voice as he watched Hotch place his get well balloon down on the table before walking out of the room.

Spencer took one look at the returning terrified look on your face before starting to stand up to go after Hotch, but stopped when David placed a hand on his shoulder to stop his movement. “I’ll deal with it in a minute, kid. You stay with her.”

After a few moments of tense silence, you managed to say, “Surprise?” as Spencer once again resumed holding your hand.

JJ laughed quietly as she sat down on the couch in the room, asking, “Like Garcia said, when did this happen?”

“Just over a year ago,” Spencer replied, squeezing your hand as his smile once again appeared.

“A year?!” Penelope and JJ asked at the same time, their eyes wide in shock.

David laughed and shook his head before asking, “And how did anyone else not notice?”

“In my defense, I thought it was an unspoken rule not to profile each other,” JJ mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s not profiling if it’s obvious,” David said with a chuckle. He leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of your head before telling you, “Rest up and get to feeling better, you scared us all.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, huffing out a laugh as you watched him exit the room followed soon after by the rest of the team who gave you their well wishes too. “Well I guess that cat’s out of the bag now…” you whispered, pulling your blanket closer to your body as your anxiety began to creep in.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Spencer reassured you, his eyes flicking up to the heart monitor and noticing that your rate was beginning to climb. He squeezed your hand as he said, “Right now we just need to focus on figuring out if you have that condition the cardiologist mentioned. Dave is talking with Hotch and I’ll talk with him soon too, okay?”

He gently lifted your chin and mumbled, “Deep breaths, sweetheart…” You simply nodded in response as you closed your eyes and tried to breathe in time with him to calm your racing heart and mind.

After a few moments, Spencer reached over you and grabbed the pack of makeup wipes and took one out, starting to bring it to your face, which prompted you to ask, “What’re you doing, Spence?”

“I’m helping you take your makeup off,” he replied simply as he began to gently run the wipe over your jawline. “I know you hate when you get acne from your makeup when we're busy with cases…”

“I can do it, love, I’m sure you’ve been up all night and you need rest too,” you told him, gently grabbing his wrist to stop his movement.

“I don’t mind,” he told you with a small smile on his lips. “This gives me an excuse to admire your beautiful features…”

You could feel yourself blushing as you mumbled, “You’ve had my features memorized intimately since around two months into our relationship.”

“And I’ll never tire of your beauty,” he told you as he coaxed your hand off of his wrist and began gently working the makeup off your face.

“Je t’aime, Doctor Reid. You always know how to make me feel better,” you whispered a few minutes later when the last makeup wipe was discarded.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, placing a gentle kiss on your lips once more.

When you were cleared to discharge the next morning, the rest of the BAU had already flown back home. Hotch offered to send the jet back to get the two of you, but knowing that they could be called out on a case, Spencer declined, also citing to him, “People with unstable heart disease and arrhythmias have the risk of deadly episodes while in the air due to the pressure changes within the cabin as well as the lower oxygen levels and higher risk of dehydration, not to mention the added stress both physically and emotionally.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re just renting a car to get back?” Hotch asked and the pair of you could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose as he asked this.

“Yes sir,” Spencer replied shortly. “If anything comes up feel free to call. We’ll both get our paperwork done before coming back to the office.”

“Thank you,” he said simply before hanging up.

Since he hadn’t wanted to leave your side, Spencer hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Hotch about your relationship and over the phone it was hard to tell what the annoyance in his tone was over… As you began to think about those implications, Spencer glanced over at you before taking your hand in his and saying, “You’re working yourself up again…”

“I’m just scared is all…” you mumbled as the pair of you followed the rental car agent to the car you would be taking back to Virginia.

Once you were both in the car after Spencer inspected it for cleanliness, he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, reiterating to you, “We’re going to figure it out. David said he thinks Hotch will come around, and if you’re worried about your heart, we’ve already got your appointment scheduled for when we get back home. Whatever happens we’ll take it on together like we always do.”

“Thank you, Spence,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes once more. You felt like you had done more than enough crying in the past few days, even though there had been more than one occasion when Spencer had rattled off some facts about crying being a great form of stress relief.

Walking into headquarters a few days later, you tugged at your shirt uncomfortably as you and Spencer stepped into the elevator together. You had been to the doctor the day before and they had attached you to a 24-hour heart monitor that they would use to aid in your diagnosis, and you’d be lying if you said all the wires didn’t cause you to be filled with an overwhelming feeling of insecurity.

Taking note of your shifting, Spencer asked quietly, “Would you like to wear my jacket?”

“And give Hotch another reason to let me go?” you rebutted, your voice breaking at the end.

“That’s not going to happen,” Spencer reassured you as the doors to the elevator opened and you two walked out and toward the BAU offices.

It definitely felt that way though when the first thing you heard when emerging into the bullpen was Hotch calling both of your last names and saying, “You two, my office.”

Feeling like two teenagers caught in the act, when Spencer closed the door behind him, he immediately started rambling. “Hotch, please I can explain, we-”

“I don’t need an explanation, I need you to sign these forms,” your unit chief said, handing the both of you a packet of papers that you began reading even though the papers shook with the tremors in your hands.

“If you just give me a second to-” Spencer tried again as he took the packet but didn’t so much as glance at it.

“Sign the papers,” Hotch said, ignoring Spencer’s pleas for him to listen.

“But-”

“Spence, read it,” you said a few moments later after you had read the summary of the form on the front page of the packet.

At your words, Spencer finally looked down at the packet in his hands and within moments had it read, his mouth opening a little in shock as he asked Hotch, “Wait…you’re not mad?”

“Oh I’m mad. I’m mad that you two would keep such a secret from us, not only because I thought we functioned as a family here, but also because of how much your relationship played a role in that Tennessee case," Hotch told him sternly. "Seeing as even I never noticed before now and up until that case, it has never interfered with your work, I asked around and came up with some forms that should appease the higher-ups if for some reason this relationship were to get out to other teams.”

“So if we sign these forms then we’re both allowed to stay on the team as long as it doesn’t interfere with our work?” Spencer asked, slightly breathlessly.

“Correct,” Hotch replied, the corners of his mouth almost tugging up into a smile. “We can’t afford to lose either one of you from this team.”

“Well that’s a relief…” you mumbled as you grabbed a pen out of the cup sitting on his desk and signed the paper in the appropriate places.

“No more secrets, okay?” Hotch asked sternly as he eyed the two of you, pointing his own pen at each of you in turn.

“No more secrets,” you both agreed, giggles flying out of both of your mouths as you looked at each other after saying the same phrase.

“So when’s the wedding?” Derek asked with a chuckle as the two of you emerged from the office once everything was filed away.

“Once we get her heart situation figured out because I know she’ll want to go to Europe for the honeymoon,” Spencer replied as he pulled you close and placed a kiss on your forehead. The statement made your heart leap in your chest and you began to think of excuses to tell the cardiologist about what caused that reading on the monitor.

So with your job at the BAU still secure, you took a seat at your desk across from Spencer’s and sipped at the decaf coffee JJ had bought for the break room, completely grateful for the team, but even more so for Spencer. You weren’t sure how you would navigate this crazy and unpredictable life without him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #angst #romance #secret relationship #bau team #bau reader #fanfic #criminal minds oneshot #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid secret relationship

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 months

Text

relationship hcs ; adam

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; adam

outline ; “dating headcanons for adam”

note ; this may be a smidge out of character as i have never written for him before, but hopefully you’re able to enjoy these headcanons regardless ^^

warning(s) ; some canon-typical douchbag behaviour, but mostly fluff!

for as much of an asshole as adam can be, once he’s committed to someone he’s loyal as hell — granted it’s difficult to get a playboy like him to agree to complete monogamy, but it’s not a complete impossibility if you’re willing to put in the time and effort to get to that point with him

hes got an extremely prominent (and, frankly, nasty) possessive streak that he makes pretty much no effort to hide — like the moment he gets jealous of someone, no matter how irrational that feeling, he’s not above going as far as just grabbing you and making out with you in front of them just to prove that you’re taken and adam is not someone who likes to share what’s his

this possessiveness is in good part because of how his past relationships ended (with the two women that were literally made for him either leaving him outright or cheating on him with the same man) and the insecurities that naturally spawned from those experiences — yes he may be the cockiest bastard in all of heaven, and he talks big game about being ‘the dickmaster’ or ‘the original dick’ and all of that nonsense, but once the two of you become an item he is terrified of losing you and seems to make it his mission to ward off any outside threats to your relationship and warn you away from anyone who he can’t scare off

(e.g. openly and frequently shit talking lucifer, hell, and the sinners he kills — portraying them as unequivocally monstrous and cruel without the chance for redemption / being unworthy of your empathy or time in an effort to keep you as disinterested and far from him as possible)

reassurance and praise goes a long way with adam, even if he does tend to outwardly either brush it off or turn it into something more sexual, even more so if you give him something concrete to show that love and praise — e.g. he’s the type of guy to keep every single card you get him for your anniversaries, his birthday (well… creation day would be a better name in his case), or valentine’s day, in a locked box or drawer for him to look through whenever he feels a bit low whilst also outwardly denying being so ‘sappy’ and sentimental

it takes a while for him to feel comfortable taking off his mask around you, but once that you’ve gotten over that particular hurdle and made your attraction and appreciation for his appearance as clear as possible, you’ll pretty much never see him wear it again — well, at least not in the privacy of your home… outside is a very different story

not at all shy about physical affection in private or in public — like from the moment the two of you confess your feelings you’ll have a hard time getting his hands off of you for more than a few minutes at a time (unless you make it clear that you’re not a touchy person, of course… he’s not a complete asshole when it comes to you and he certainly doesn’t want to make the best thing to happen to him since eden go running for the hills)

his favourite place to kiss you is on the lips (he’s the first man, as he oh so loves reminding everyone in earshot, forgive him for the basic choice) and his kisses are all so passionate that it almost feels like he’s worried you’ll vanish the moment he lets go — they’re wet and messy and steal the breath straight from your lungs, yes, and by the end of it you’ll get to see him with his cheeks all flushed and golden eyes gleaming with mischief, passion, and overwhelming affection, but there’s also the smallest hint of something else in his kisses that you can’t quite place (and that you rarely have the chance to linger on before you’re dragged somewhere more private by him to let things get a bit less ‘pg’, or he’s hurrying away to take part in an extermination or to fulfil some other such heavenly duty that sera probably asked him to do weeks ago)

loves having his hair played with and will fall asleep in minutes if you start slowly and gently carding your fingers through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp when he’s laying on your lap — would never admit it though and will go straight as a board and almost shout-talk over you to try and preserve his reputation if you try and bring it up around anyone else (especially lute because she would never let him live that down)

mainly just calls you ‘babe’ or your first name, and maybe the occasional ‘baby’ — though he’s responsive to any and every pet name you give him over the course of your relationship, even the more ridiculous/humourous ones

he keeps an eye out for you at every gig he plays with his band, visibly brightening when he catches sight of you and even pointing you out as his ‘smoking hot partner’ to the crowd before playing one of the dozens of songs he’s dedicated to you — none of them are explicitly love songs, but he thought of you when writing them and that’s enough to gain a dedication in his eyes

isn’t above using his position as the first man to benefit you and your relationship — that can mean anything from rearranging his and your schedules to make sure that you always get to spend some time together each day, or threatening anyone with banishment or some other punishment for making you uncomfortable (it may be heaven but nowhere is completely safe from assholes… adam himself is proof of that)

you’re absolutely spoiled rotten but he always runs any major gifts past lute (who you’re basically guaranteed to have as a close companion after getting with adam) before he gives them to you because he doesn’t want to risk giving you something you hate and pushing you away from him — of course he never tells you this and brags very openly about being so good at picking gifts for you (and, thus, being the most awesome boyfriend in the history of all boyfriends ever)

he rarely ever actually says the words ‘i love you’ and will affectionately tease you whenever you say them to him, but he makes every effort to ensure that you don’t doubt his feelings for even a second despite that

when he’s too busy to accompany you out and about, he always makes sure that there’s at least one of his girls with you just to ensure your safety at all times — especially after one of his exorcists got killed, which made him particularly jumpy and overprotective (yes he knows that heaven is just about the safest place you can be, but he refuses to take any chances when it comes to you)

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam fluff

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maehemthemisfit · 10 months

Note

i have come to return the favour of brainrots.

lyney loves helping you get ready whenever you’re going out. you want your hair done? no problem, he knows exactly what’ll suit you. not sure what to wear? well, he’ll tell you which colours go well with your skin palette and which outlines complement your body shape. want to paint your nails? he’s already laid out all the colours in front of you (and will definitely kiss your knuckles once he’s finished.) you wear makeup? let him do your eyeliner; he’s got you covered, and can probably do it better than you could yourself. (he will, however, take the opportunity to paint a little heart on your cheek if you’re not careful. ‘see?’ he’ll grin, pointing at the teardrop on his own cheek. ‘now we match.’)

he also loves dancing with you—like, i’m imagining a typical ballroom (but maybe a bit more steampunky), and he pulls your favourite flower from what looks like thin air, lowers into a bow, holds the flower out to you, and presses his lips to the back of your hand when you take it, eyes glimmering as he asks, ‘would you care to indulge me with a dance, [monsieur/ mademoiselle/ a gender neutral equivalent]?’

and he’s such a gentleman while you’re dancing, too; one hand hovering on your hips, the other holding yours, and he definitely twirls you around, no question about it. he probably also does that thing where he catches you and you stare at each other for a long, romantic-tension-you-could-cut-with-a-knife moment before he pulls you back up.

his favourite place to kiss you is probably your knuckles—you always get adorably flustered when he just barely skims his lips over the back of your hand, and he wouldn’t give up that expression for the world—closely followed by the tip of your nose and your lips and your forehead and— (you get the idea…)

also, going back to when you’re in the crowd during his performances, him trying to find you in the audience becomes a game over time: you’ll try and make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, and he’ll look for you as he’s performing. he’s never not managed to spot you before, and each time he does and you make eye contact, he winks at you and blows you a kiss.

i feel like there’s also a chance he might actually propose to you onstage at the end of a performance if he was sure you’d be comfortable with it: like, everyone’s about to take their bows, and he suddenly asks for a ‘surprise volunteering act’—of course, you get picked (what are the chances?), and once you’re on stage, he announces, ‘now, my dearest volunteer, i only need your hand for this magic trick. nothing more, nothing less.’

you raise an eyebrow, unsure what he’s planning—this ‘surprise act’ was certainly not on the lineup he described to you—and to your (and everyone else in the audience’s astonishment), he gets down on one knee, takes off his hat, and pulls a little box from it. the whole theatre is silent: you could hear a pin drop as he clears his throat and says, ‘if you’d be so kind as to humour me… may i ask for your hand in marriage?’ safe to say, that was a day nobody who was there ever forgot…

(of course, if he thinks you might be uncomfortable with such a public proposal, he’ll stick with something more private.)

this… got longer than i intended it to be, but… enjoy?

WE WILL SINGLEHANDEDLY FEED THE LYNEY LOVERS !!

I. Don't. Care. What. ANYONE. Says. Lyney frequently kissing your hands is canon. Back, Knuckles, Wrist, Ring, ANYWHERE he can put his lips on. And he always smiles into it too.

Since he's part of the performance industry, it's common knowledge for him to know how to do hair and makeup. So if you ever struggle to do those things, he'll learn how to style and take care of your hair no matter the texture, type, or length. It might be trial and error but you both have fun bonding together, especially when he tries doing your makeup.

Archons forbid he ever puts lip gloss or something on your lips (it's gonna end up on his regardless, he has no self control when he's already inches away from kissing you). He makes a mess and has to redo it again, but that's after the mini make out session, he doesn't mind at all though... he might try to kiss you again. NEVER let them know your next move. 😭

(poor Freminet had walked in on you guys accidentally and wanted the ocean to swallow him whole- immediately reverses out of there and had trouble looking the two of you in the eyes right after.)

LOVES LOVES LOVES dancing with you, even if you can't dance or have difficulty doing so. He'll hold/carry you if he has to and just sway and spin you around. He doesn't mind if you trip up or stumble over his feet. He'll correct it, his hands guiding your hips, whispering instructions and praises as his words brush and fan across your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

He spins you like a princess, and if he's bold enough, he might throw you in the air and catch you (much to your frightened squeals and dismay). Whether you're in the spotlight or dancing in the dark, swaying in the rain, or practicing in a ballroom, his eyes are forever locked on yours. And don't expect him to dip you and NOT leave a kiss (unless he feels like teasing you). It's truly a crime to him if he doesn't at this opportune moment.

Dancing with him feels like a fairytale.

ALSO THE PROPOSAL JAHSKSASJDJSK

Live, Laugh, Lyney ❤️❤️❤️❤️

.° ୭ ៳ Genshin Drabble Masterlist・✩

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the-s1lly-corner · 10 months

Note

Playing with johnathans hair pre collider plsplspls kissing it maybe his knuckles, calling him pretty kissing his Beauty marks plsplspls pls

Showering Jonathan Ohnn in affection!

Rubs my hands

God I love prompts like this, especially with characters like jon/spot

Even when he was still Jonathan, he still didnt have the best self image

He didnt think of himself as horribly as he does in present day, but hes... hooboy

He doesn't think he's ugly by any means, but no way does he think he's the prettiest person

He doesnt like his... everything, really

His birthmarks, his body, the way his hands are built, his nose, and so on

And then you came along

You weren't his first partner, I like to think he's managed to get some bitches(/j) in like

College

Now were those relationships anything meaningful? Did they last?

...no..

Did that leave a dent on him?

Maaaaybe just a little

So he was both ecstatic and nervous of being in a relationship again

But oh,

You melted his walls down right away, letting him know exactly how you felt about him and actually. Listened to him

Jonathan, being an overworked socially awkward scientist, doesn't get much physical touch; so he's starving

It's small at first; but even small touches can have him unraveling

Locking pinkies while you walk together, standing a lil close to one another, and so on

And dont get him started on verbal compliments

So imagine the day you decide to go a lil deeper and just

Pull his hands to your mouth, the same hands that are covered in nicks and cuts from years of work, and gently kissing his knuckles

The hands that he thinks are spindly and weird; being kissed

You may as well just marry him right then and there

But it keeps on going as time progresses

You kiss the small scars littered on his hands

Imagine seeing him scowling at the mirror while glaring at the feature of his face he doesnt like and just

You walk over to him and cup his face and just

Cover him with kisses

Specifically placed kisses, exactly where he was just glaring at

A lot of the times when you're sleeping together hes the big spoon since hes tall, but on the off chance hes little spoon? Hooboy

Absolutely refuses to get up, scoots himself closer to you, and hes almost falling asleep until

You start playing with his hair; that snaps him awake. Whether or not you have concept art Jonathan in mind or movie accurate; hes got the same reaction. He stiffens and kinda just. Freezes. Like a deer in headlights. Does he pretend to be asleep? Does he thank you? Does?? Bro short circuits

Off topic but I like to think that concept art of Jonathan going around is just. Canon movie Jonathan, but before he got a haircut. Like imagine he JUST got a haircut before the collider thing and now hes bald 😭

OOO OOOO imagine you're wearing lipstick and leave marks all over him

He will refuse to wash it off, for as long as possible

Dumbest most goofiest smile plastered on his face while you spoil him

Now I've gone on and on about you pampering him, but dont think he wouldnt try to return the favor!

He leaves quick and sloppy kisses on your cheek

Like just.. he wraps his long arms around you and lazily drapes himself over you during cuddles and. Goes to town on your face

You're both a giggly mess by the end of it

Makes you forget about the outside world; it's just you and Jonathan

Loves getting you loads of gifts; store bought and homemade! You'll probably have to tell him to slow down since you're losing space in your house <\3

As I mentioned in a previous Jonathan post (the coworker one) he drops the most foul, most cheesiest, most cliche, horrible pick up lines

Dude probably looks at wikihow stuff on like "how to impress my crush" or something like that

He absolutely LIGHTS UP whenever you indulge in his antics

Overall you two are just so sweet to each other SOBS

#atsv #atsv spot #spiderverse #the spot x reader #the spot #spot x reader #jonathan ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader

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coraniaid · 13 days

Text

My most self-indulgent headcanon is that, when Buffy died in The Gift, she didn't actually go to heaven (something which the show is otherwise quite vague about existing at all, considering Giles and Buffy's various comments about religion over the course of the show) but rather to the same place we know at least one past Slayer ended up after her death: the shared subconscious of the active Slayer.

We see Sineya, the First Slayer, in Buffy's dreams in Restless and it's at least strongly implied by Graduation Day and This Year's Girl that Faith and Buffy have also been sharing dreams for at least a year, ever since Buffy stabbed Faith.

So my take -- which, granted, has no real support from canon at all -- is that being the Slayer works a bit like being the Avatar in Avatar: The Last Airbender. Every Slayer has the memories (or the ghost or the soul or whatever you want to call it) of all her predecessors locked somewhere in the depths of her own mind, and in extreme cases -- like the Scoobies spell to call on the First Slayer in Primeval, or two Slayers both being alive together but one falling into a coma -- it's possible for her to get in touch with them directly.

Buffy herself already died once, so a part of her was linked to Kendra and then, when Kendra died, that part passed on to Faith.

Part of the reason I like this theory -- beyond being an inveterate Fuffy shipper, which I guess you can take as a given -- is that Buffy's description of being in "heaven" doesn't really make much sense to me if we assume she's right about where she ended up. She tells Spike in After Life that she felt "complete" and "at peace" because "[she] knew that everyone [she] cared about was all right". But we, the audience, know that everyone Buffy cared about wasn't all right at all. Her sister, her Watcher, her friends: they were all miserable and heartbroken and, without a Slayer around, everyone in Sunnydale was in imminent danger of a violent death.' Surely any heaven worth the name can manage better than deluding the dead into thinking that everything is going well when it isn't?

But suppose that my theory is right, and that after she died Buffy really ended up buried somwhere in Faith's subconcious. We know -- and in Season 7 Faith herself will admit -- that Faith has always had a very romanticized, idealized view of Buffy's life, envying Buffy for her mother and her friends and her Watcher and not seeing (or choosing not to see) that everything isn't quite so perfect for Buffy after all.

If Buffy were to find herself somewhere in in the depths of Faith's mind, of course she'd think she was happy and warm and loved and everything was going well for her friends and family. Of course she'd think she was in heaven. As far as Faith was concerned, Buffy always was.

#btvs

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iloveundertaesooomuch · 4 months

Text

Some advice from AU Calebs!

Heck yeah I did it! Finally i finished ONE of the HUNDREDS AU crossover ideas I have in my head!! Crossovers are fun guys!! (I apologise for a bad english in advance. Writing this it a rush.)

"It's ok to ask for help." (A Reverse Of Feathers And Mud by @jess-the-vampire)

I couldn't make a crossover meme without the legend. Sorry, not sorry. He is such a sad lad but tries to stay positive and be happy for his family uydfykudsutsudskudsluds (*dies*). I have to admitt, Caleb's dad energy is too strong for me to handle without wanting a hug him. No wonder! He was THE grandpa for centuries straight without a break. At least Caleb gets his whole family together in the end. Comics with him and either Hunter and Philip or Luz and Eda make me run in cirles around the room aaaa.

"You are not a burden." (Brother's Keeper by @idoodlestuffsometimes)

Damn, you definetly created one of the darkest AU in the fandom. Each time I re-read AU related posts I scream my lungs out because it is so angsty and so great. I am genuinely scared of your Belos ngl, because.. this man didnt loose anything and he still proceeds to do all that stuff. Enconter with him has 0 survival rate.

POOR CALEB! At least in the world of memes he had an opportunity to flee the captivity twice (the bald head and the car). This man had no moment of mental rest for centuries oh my God. One of my friends wants to fight his brother personally to protec Caleb at all cost sksksk. Well, at least Hunter will always have an actually loving relative! And if the happy ending is going to be canon, I think the future looks great, especially knowing how much pain all your characters go through currently. (And I think both Caleb and Hunter would need the "you are not a burdain" affirmations. At least some form of support in their situation.)

You said in the latest ask-answer that BK!Caleb was supposed to have white streaks in his hair so I attempted to add them. Hope they look fine! Colors for the outfit I got from Belos, so they would match, I guess???

"Murder is okay." (Loose Strings by @oldmanpip)

My bro, brother, friend... Despite you being not to involved on the discord server, my brain is still rotting with your great awesome AUs. And I know you know that. Your Caleb is really loose in all sences of that word and I love that. Wonder if your AUs will ever be available to the public. Because oh boy oh boy they deserve to be recognised. (Loose Caleb is such a conservative grandpa who never did anything wrong, wdym?)

"Your feelings matter." (Pip In Time by @celestialscribbler)

Honestly? Man, your comic is the reason I got invested in Witteclaw couple at all. Even if the "Pip in time" is not their story, but you wrote their teen romance so sweetly. Those two melted my heart... I scream each time I re-read your comic for 100th time. Just WOAH my brain goes brrr! And Caleb as a character is also written really really well. I love him so much. He is such good brother but MAN HE NEEDS A BREAK FROM BEING AN ADULT! BOY! Insirt crying and heart emojis here.

(PS: hope you still care about your health!)

My thoughts:

I have been drawing this for more than a month I think? And the only reason for that is my university. I hope to actually get an ADHD diagnosis because something is clearly wrong with me. But thats not the point.

There are so many ideas in my head. Goofy and not. The only problem is that I have less and less ability to do what I want lately. I wish I could bring them all to life, but at the same I dont know if anyone will be interested. Would AU crossovers look too self-indulgent? Or nah? Idk. (Just Grimwalker-Isle already has so much potential for stupid ridiculous fun I am runnin on coffee juice.)

Litteraly my mind is plagued with different fun plots and possibilities I am going crazy. But I also have A TON of WIPs that I need to finish. Perhaps I will attempt to manage everything at once, but, no promises.

Wish me luck on my exams!

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anime-owo-kage-san · 24 days

Text

Please, let me indulge in these thoughts for a while.

But, what if Charlie thinks of writing a play for the hotel to perform? Maybe a play about redemption, and within the play has a sinner transform into an angel after getting redeemed.

At first she asks Vaggie to play the sinner to angel part, because she already has angel wings. But, Vaggie insists maybe Angel Dust should play the role, since he’s the hotel’s first (and only, if we’re talking ‘post-canon’) guest.

Charlie over excitedly agrees, before Angel could even have his say and starts sketching out his ‘angel costume’.

Angel Dust doesn’t know why, but one look at the costume design made him feel a little self-conscious. Which is weird because he never gets self-conscious! (Unless it comes to his feet.)

But then again, after all the sexy, skimpy and lacey clothes he’s worn, wearing an angel costume that Charlie designed to be so flowy and stereotypically pure white (an exaggeration to what the angels they’ve seen actually wore) and the fluffy wings—made him strangely… ‘undeserving’ of the role.

The idea of wearing this on stage, in front of everyone, after being known as a pornstar all his afterlife, makes him feel like he’ll just be mocked from the irony.

Phone Call Scenario In My Head:

Angel: *just finished a porno shoot and in the middle of putting on his robe*

*phone starts ringing on a desk away from him*

Random guy: “Uh, Angel… Your phone’s ringing…”

Angel: “Put it on speaker, for me. It’s probably just Cherri again.” *still tying his robe*

Random guy: *picks up phone and puts it on speaker*

(Through the phone) Charlie: “ANGEEEL!!!”

Angel: *turns his head* Charlie…?

Valentino: *eyes narrowed, bc he’s still pissed about last time*

Charlie: “I’m. So. FUCKING EXCITED FOR THE SHOW TONIGHT! You’ll be on time for rehearsal, right? You’re the STAR after all!” *squeals*

Angel: *suddenly remembers the show and his face slowly turns pink* “U-Uh yeah…. Don’t worry, I-I just finished up work… I’ll be there….”

Valentino: *raises his brow at Angel* “Show…?”

Charlie: “Okay! Oooh! I can’t wait to see you in the costume! It’s finally finished! Please, come back as soon as possible so we can see how it looks on you!” *definitely jumping up and down on the other side*

Angel: *tries to hide how weirdly shy he feels* “Pssh! Doll face, I’ll look good in anything! I…. I’ll be there…”

Charlie: “Okay! See you later!”

(Call ends)

Valentino: *makes his way to Angel while smirking* “Well! It looks like this hotel you’re staying at isn’t as ‘clean’ as the princess, makes it sound.”

Angel: *looks at him confused* “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Valentino: “Oh, you know… That flustered look on your face, says it all! You’re not one to be embarrassed though, amorcito. Pray tell, how sexy is this costume of yours, that even you couldn’t help but flush?”

Angel: *only half paying attention, still thinking about the costume and embarrassed* “It’s…. not, anything like that. Look, I’m done with work. I’m just gonna go.”

Angel: *grabs his phone and leaves before Val can say anything*

Valentino: “Dumb whore. Performing shows somewhere else.”

So, sinners come to watch the show, after seeing Alastor’s advertisement of it —Which didn’t give anyone much context. All they knew was that Angel Dust was performing a show at the hotel, and the show was free!

Valentino shows up just to be a ‘porn critic’, because like everyone else, he still thinks it that type of show.

Angel Dust, who was peaking at the audience backstage gets more nervous, and hides in the dressing room. He was already wearing the costume, but he doesn’t want anyone to see him wearing it.

Sprinkle some Huskerdust into this; Husk is the one who convinces Angel to come out, and build his confidence back up. (Maybe some cheesy, wholesome words about how despite being in hell, he’s “Hell’s only angel, for him —didn’t think this far).

Angel: *peaks his head out the door* “What about Flat Tits?”

Husk: “That doesn’t count. She was from heaven. So for me, you are hell’s angel…”

Angel: “What about Charlie’s da—”

Husk: “Christ! Would you get out here already. Before I stop attempting to compliment you.”

Angel: *laughs lightly* “Yeah, okay. Sorry…”

And the show goes on. Sure, just like Angel expected, the majority of the audience were commenting on the choice of his role. But, he didn’t care anymore. Whenever he looks to the side and sees Husk giving him a supportive smile, he regains confidence and continues on with the play.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #huskerdust #husk x angel dust #angel dust dressed as an angel

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Note

We love a writing prompt challenge - I'd love to see what you do with post!outbreak Joel and ❛ what if i hurt you? ❜

smut prompt challenge

Thank you so much for sending this one in to me my darling! <3 I decided to be a little adventurous with this one, I hope you like it. Also, it turned out to be a longer than I meant to, it was supposed to just be a blurb/short drabble and it turned into a 3k oneshot. Whoopsie. I am not at the point where I can write smut with no plot, I have to have at least a teensy bit of plot lmao.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors dni. explicit. post outbreak, set in Jackson. established relationship. jealous/possessive/slightly intoxicated Joel. reader is just a lil bit toxic too. rough sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bit of spanking, praise and pet names. very lightly implied age gap (reader is referred to as kid by an older side character but she’s in her mid to late 20s, Joel is canon age, mid 50’s; purely self indulgent with the age thing tbh) okay, I think I got it all.

word count: 3k

“Alright kid, I’m heading out for the night,” Seth announced, flipping off all of the lights inside of The Tipsy Bison. He made sure to leave one last dim yellow light on for you so that you could finish cleaning up around the bar. He tossed you a set of keys to the building from where he stood near the front door. As he shrugged into his blue denim jacket, he asked you one last time, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay locking up the place all on your own at this hour?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You walked over towards him, twirling the set of keys between your fingers. “Oh please. What could possibly happen to me in a secured, gated community where everybody knows everybody, Seth?” You questioned him, shaking your head slightly. “And besides, it’s not like we’ve got a register full of cash just waiting to be robbed. It’s the end of the world, so I think I’ll be just fine closing up shop.”

“Well, you got me there,” he sniffed. “I suppose I don’t have anything to worry about.” He paused, lowering his voice as he added, “And much less when you have your very own guard dog sitting over there and keeping his watchful eye on you.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel. He was sitting at the opposite end of the long bar nursing what had to be his third or fourth glass of barrel aged bourbon; even after all the shit you two had been through together over the last several months while making the dangerous and violent trek across the country, Joel had never, not once, behaved like this with you. He had never been this ridiculously overprotective of you, not until you’d begun working as one of the evening bartenders at The Tipsy Bison. He wasn’t all too fond of your new role in Jackson, and he’d made it abundantly clear by dropping in late at night to make sure the rowdier male patrons who would frequent the bar after evening patrol were behaving, keeping their hands to themselves—and off of his girl.

You turned back to Seth, flashing him a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Look, I know he can be kind of rough around the edges sometimes. But he’s not all that bad, you know?”

“Kind of rough around the edges? One look from Miller can send anyone running for their lives in the other fucking direction,” he remarked with an amused snort as he pushed the door open. “Be sure to turn off that last light before you leave, kid. Oh, and don’t forget that I’m going need you here tomorrow at three for the opening shift, alright?”

“Got it. See you tomorrow,” You said, giving him a little wave as he left. You pulled the door closed and locked it behind him, giving it a gentle tug to make sure it was secure. Shoving the set of keys into the back pocket of your light blue denim cut off shorts, you made your way back across the quiet, empty bar and over towards Joel. You let out a soft sigh, lightly draping an arm around his shoulders. “Joel, please. It’s almost one o’ clock in the morning. I still have quite a bit to do around here before I can leave,” You stated. You reached up, affectionately running your fingers through his graying, dark brown curls. “You have patrol duty in a few hours. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t no way in fuckin’ hell I’d let you walk home alone at this hour.”

You sighed again, withdrawing your hand from his hair as you stepped back.

Joel turned on the bar stool he’d been perched on for most of the night, his dark brown eyes taking the sight of you in; they glazed over your fitted, tight black tee shirt with a neckline that scooped way too low and exposed too much skin for his liking. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line as his gaze wandered down further, noticing how the frayed hem of your cut offs fell a couple of inches above the middle of your thighs. “You really gotta fuckin’ wear that outfit every night?”

You glanced down at yourself, frowning. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“I just don’t fuckin’ like it,” he muttered gruffly, his fingers holding onto his glass of whiskey in a near death grip. “You’re showin’ off way too goddamn much. Every fucker you served tonight got more than a fuckin’ eyeful. I probably watched ‘bout a dozen idiots stare at your tits and openly flirt with you right in front of me, you know that?”

“There’s a reason why this is the uniform I have to wear, Joel,” You teased with a giggle, hoping to ease the tension that was practically radiating off of the man.

“You fuckin’ enjoyin’ this?” He asked bitterly as he glared at you. He drained the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass down onto the counter with a little more force than what was necessary. His jealousy was seeping out of him, and you’d be a damned dirty liar if you said you didn’t find it so incredibly hot.

“Mm, just a little bit,” You replied with another tiny giggle. You leaned up against the bar and crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze meeting his; you noticed the way the seething anger flashed in his dark eyes. His raw, raging emotions were only exacerbated by the amount of bourbon he’d had to drink that night. “Oh lighten up, Joel! I’m only kidding and you know that. Listen, the outfit and the flirting, it’s just part of my job as a bartender. It’s something that all the girls around here have to do. I’m just eye candy for the lonely and horny patrolmen who have nothing better to do with their free time. Besides, Seth makes it very clear to all the fucking guys around here that they can look but they can’t touch—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Joel snarled, suddenly rising to his feet. “I don’t give a fuck if they don’t touch you, alright? I don’t want those bastards lookin’ at you, hell I don’t even want any of them so much as fuckin’ breathin’ in your direction!” He drew closer towards you, his voice going so dangerously low it sent a little chill right up the length of your spine. “You’re mine, you fuckin’ understand me? You are mine.”

Your playful smile faded slightly.

His possessiveness should have bothered you. It should have angered you, even. You were a human being, not his piece of property. But as you drank in the sight of him, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, the way his nostrils flared, and not to mention that all too familiar murderous look in his eye, you couldn’t help the wanting heat that flooded your lower belly.

“Then take me,” You murmured, your voice soft.

Joel sobered up ever so slightly. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter, Joel. I said, take me.”

Joel stared at you, mouth agape. “You’ve lost your damn mind. We’re in a fuckin’ bar—”

“A dimly lit, locked bar with no one else around,” You smirked, pulling your top down to expose the black lace bra you wore underneath. “You say I’m yours, so show me. Right here, right now.”

Joel’s cock twitched behind his zipper, his mouth going dry when he caught a glimpse of the way the soft, delicate lace hugged the delicious curve of your breasts. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him as he watched you bite down on your bottom lip and tilt your head up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently—you knew how to play him just like a fucking fiddle.

“Baby, no. Not here.”

You pouted playfully. “Don’t you want me?”

“Not like this,” he rasped, although the continued straining against the dark blue denim of his jeans stated otherwise. “I’m drunk, I’m pissed off—I just don’t trust myself with you right now.”

You smiled sweetly at him and stepped forward to shrink the gap of distance between your bodies.

You slid your hands underneath his brown jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. You placed a hand on his chest, right over his heartbeat as your eyes met his. “I trust you.”

He rigidly shook his head. “What if I hurt you?”

“I trust you,” You reassured him. “Please, Joel. I just need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I need you to show me that I’m all yours. Yours and only—”

Joel didn’t even bother to let you finish.

He reached out for you and pulled your body flush against his, his mouth crashing violently against yours; his tongue darted through your parted lips, dominating your own in a way that made you melt into a submissive little puddle right in his large hands. He wasted no time, moving his lips down to your neck where he started nipping and biting at your delicate flesh with his teeth—hard enough that your silky skin would be covered in discolored marks tomorrow. But any worries about him being too rough had gone out the window. He wanted to mark his territory. He wanted every motherfucker in Jackson to know you belonged to him.

“Joel,” You moaned out his name and clutched fistfuls of his dark green flannel shirt.

He said nothing, allowing his mouth to continue ravaging you as his hands started ridding you of your clothes; he broke contact for as second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. You aided him and reached around yourself to unhook your bra, carelessly tossing it somewhere behind the bar. Your shorts and matching lace underwear came off next, along with your tan brown cowboy boots.

Normally, Joel would take his time. He’d kiss and worship his way across every inch of your entire body, but not tonight—no, tonight he was going to take you quickly, roughly. Between all the alcohol and his pent up frustrations, being gentle was the very last thing on his mind.

“C’mere.” Joel yanked you over towards a small, square wooden table just a few feet away from the bar, the same damn table where patrons would enjoy their after work duty drinks. He gripped the back of your neck and shoved you down, bending you right over the table; you let out a little gasp as your warm, naked body hit the cold, laminated wood. His rough, calloused hands glided their way down your smooth back and he took a single step backwards to admire the view. “Open up for me, sweetheart. Let me see you—all of you.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him with lustful, hooded eyes. Biting your lower lip, you did as you were told and spread your legs, your entire body erupting in goosebumps as the chilly air coming from the vents of the building hit your throbbing center.

Joel groaned, noticing the way your inner thighs were slick, coated with your own arousal. “Look at you, my pretty girl. Already soakin’ wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Giggling, you turned away from him and pushed your feet apart even wider. You then opened your mouth to speak, but instead let out a loud yelp when you felt him deliver a swift but harsh strike to your ass with the palm of his hand.

He’d never fucking done that before.

Joel began kneading at the spot he’d just struck you with his fingers so aggressively that you were certain you’d find bruises there in the morning.

The thought alone made you drip onto the floor.

“Joel—” You lifted yourself slightly off of the table.

“Stay down,” he commanded, pushing you back down.

You nodded and pressed your cheek flat against the table, your wet, aching walls clenching in pure anticipation as you heard his belt buckle clinking followed by the sweet sound of his zipper coming undone. Seconds later, the tip of his rock hard length pressed against your drenched slit.

You spread your legs even wider, prompting Joel to chuckle.

“You want me bad, don’t you my little darlin’?” he nearly taunted you. “Hm? You want me inside that pretty little pussy?”

“God yes I do—please fuck me,” You pleaded him. “Please, Joel. Please.”

He hummed. “Since you’re bein’ an awfully good girl and askin’ so politely…”

Joel didn’t even finish his sentence. There was a momentary pause and before you could ask him what the hell he was waiting for, he slammed into you, sheathing himself in your tight heat.

No warning. No warmup.

No time for you to think about anything except for the feeling of his thick, hard cock filling you up and stretching you completely.

You gasped out as all the air left your lungs. “Joel!”

Gripping your shoulders, he slid himself out of you entirely before delivering another powerful blow, one that had you seeing fucking stars. He didn’t give your body any time to adjust to him as he began to thrust, picking up a wild pace that you felt would split you in half if he didn’t ease up.

He’d fucked you plenty of times before—but never like this.

Senseless.

You gripped the edges of the table, gasping for a breath—you tried to cry out, but when you opened your mouth, all that came out were quick, pathetic little pants, desperate for air.

It hurt.

But the kind of hurt that felt so fucking good that you wanted more and more of it.

“You look so goddamn pretty, takin’ my cock like that,” Joel grunted out. His hands had abandoned your shoulders in favor of your hips, his fingers bruising the soft flesh there. “What a fuckin’ good girl you are for me, baby. Such a good girl—”

Planting your shaky hands on the table top, you pushed yourself up.

Joel’s hands left your hips. He slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling your naked back against his broad, clothed chest where he held you firmly in place as he continued to fuck you into oblivion with his barbaric, almost animalistic thrusts.

“Who do you belong to?” he whispered into your ear, his other hand resting on your stomach. “Tell me, darlin’. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” You somehow managed to choke out a reply between gasps. “I belong to you, Joel.”

“Yeah? You’re mine? All fuckin’ mine?”

You could only nod your head in response.

Joel’s arm around you tightened. “Say it,” he demanded. “I need you to say it.”

“I’m yours, all fucking yours!”

His hand moved from your stomach and dove between your thighs, two of his fingers finding your clit as swollen and sensitive as it had ever been. His digits circled the bundle of nerves, causing your legs to tremble as you felt the beginning of an orgasm coiling tight in your lower belly.

“Oh fuck,” You breathed out in a moan. “Joel, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me baby,” he encouraged you huskily, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you to come all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

Finally, you managed to find your cries inside of you; they tore themselves from your throat where they had been lodged, echoing throughout the entire, empty bar as you came undone, your walls clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck baby,” Joel released a deep, guttural groan and shoved you back over the table, pinning you down on it with both his hands as he spilled inside of you.

He leaned over you, his body hovering over yours as the two of you took a minute to catch your breath. He gave one final gentle thrust, groaning again when he felt the way you fluttered around him.

“Already wantin’ more sweetheart?” Joel planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before finally pulling out of you. He stepped back, pulling his jeans back up into place; he stopped for just a moment, noticing the way his cum dripped out of you and slowly trickled down the inside of your thighs. Resisting the primal urge to take you all over again, he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt. He then realized you still hadn’t moved and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Baby I didn’t hurt you did I—”

“Shut up,” You told him, lazily waving a hand at him. “Don’t ruin it.”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle as he shook his head. “You really are somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Mhm, but that’s why you love me,” You reminded him, glancing over your shoulder at him with a tiny little smirk.

Joel leaned over, quickly feathering a trail of kisses down your spine before he started walking around the bar and picking up your clothes. He handed them to you along with his jacket and helped you clean yourself up with a clean rag from behind the bar. As you dressed, he disappeared behind the counter once more, returning just moments later with a glass of bourbon in one hand and another clean, damp cloth in the other. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a bar stool and you obeyed. You sipped on the hard liquor watching as he started wiping down the table. Discarding the cloth into a garbage bin, he began putting all the chairs up on the tables for you. Looking around, he asked, “What else do you need me to do?”

Setting the glass down, you stood up and shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come in early tomorrow and finish up my tasks before the bar opens.” You smiled tiredly at him. “Let’s just go home, yeah?”

“Yeah, you need to get some rest—” Joel stopped, his dark eyes widening when he caught a glimpse of the marks that had already begun forming on your neck. “Shit,” he muttered as he hurried over to you. He moved the lapels of his jacket out of the way and touched them delicately. “You’re not gonna be able to hide these, baby.”

“It’s fine,” You grinned at him. “At least now, everyone will know who I belong to.”

#smut prompt challenge #Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller angst

1K notes · View notes

penvisions · 3 months

Text

garnish {chapter 10}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it does make the heart grow fonder. You find yourself missing Joel, too stubborn to reach out but Ellie is tired of seeing you both pinning as she navigates classes with you and her homelife with Joel now that she's back in the city.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is a dumb dumb, reader is stubborn and heartbroken, mentions of reader's past, trauma, complicated family dynamics, stressful family dynamics, reader mourns her past relationship with father, verbal abuse (past tense), ellie being a scheming lil shit, language, sexual content, references to sexual relations (past tense), smoking, cigarettes, nicotine, drinking, consumption of alcohol, melancholia, manic depressive internal monologue

A/N: WE DID IT, we made it to the end!! i've never finished a fic before so this is all so exciting and a little terrifying, to be honest. i hope hope hope that i've done this lil au justice, with it growing a mind and story line of its own i never even planned for somewhere around chapter five. but we did it and i am proud of this lil one and maybe self-indulged a lot with my own birthday on the 17th! please tell me your thoughts!! a HUGE thank you to everyone that interacted with this. y'all made this possible by engaging with me and inspiring me to continue on even when my own brain was working against me ♡

i would love to take prompts for these two dummies to expand their universe and story in the future if anyone is interested? but i'm still getting used to having what little attention my fics are getting and i dunno if that would be something people are interested in ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Well, you certainly have the enthusiasm, Ellie.” A smile passed over the desk, fingers curled over her application and subsequent documentation. She had already graduated from her Boston school at the end of the previous spring semester, already set up to TA for a favorite professor of hers in the new year after a successful first year of doing so for another. But she had a pending application for a secondary degree. One here in Austin.

Her life laid out in front of you once she had begun school, having applied and gotten into an art program in England right out of high school, something she had gushed about excitedly for a few moments when you asked her about it. Sure, you had talked about it in passing over shared meals both in the comforting environment of father’s home and while out getting coffee that had developed as a regular occurrence any time she was in town.

She was only four years younger than you, both her and Sarah. So driven and excited about this time in their lives. Sarah having relocated to work for a company that fought for her attention and hire after a phenomenal performance in communications and social work out in California. Both supported and shown love in a way that used to make anger and jealousy flair up in you, but that you now saw as a blessing for those who had that kind of nurturing environment to flourish in.

“I just…the perspective of art and language of art you’re trying to explore is really fuckin’ interesting. I know it doesn’t necessarily fall in line with my focus of studies, but-“

“Classes that interest you are just as important as those that help along your degree.”

“And dad said that I could go for it, said if it’s what I want, he’ll help me in any way he can.”

“Ellie, it would be a pleasure to have you take part in the program. There is a two semester commitment, I will remind you. And the application you submitted for Austin is still pending. But if you’re on board, I can sign my approval and walk it over to the admissions office when we’re done here.”

“I was…actually going to see if you could give me a ride back to the house…dad was in a hurry when my car wouldn’t start, and I left my keys with him so he could take a look at it.”

“Oh,” Your bottom lip was between your teeth, nervousness taking ahold of you. “Um, well-“

“I totally understand not wanting to, but I would feel better going with you than taking a bus or somethin’.”

“It’s okay, I can. But let’s walk this over to admissions and see what we can get in the way of aid first, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, thank you so much!”

Your class sessions were at nine and lasted for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday. Not wanting to over log the students with a long block of class time on top of all the reading you did end up requiring of them in order to participate in the discussions. Only two days a week to allow for some leeway with the readings on top of the other responsibilities you were all to familiar with. You had explained to Ellie once her application had been switched over from pending to accepted.

You did miss the social aspect of working at the restaurant, the different foods and drinks you could try on a whim, the ability to get as much or as little human interaction as you wanted. But…you had made a choice to leave it behind. For good. Focusing finally on the things that you wanted to do for the rest of your life and a plethora of memories and stories of a time now past.

And Joel….you missed Joel.

But you were stubborn, sure that the man wanted to wash his hands of you after never getting a response.

Ellie was banging her head along to the tape that had been stuck in the trucks deck for years now. An old one from your childhood, one of the only things you father had intentionally gifted you. His love of music something you shared despite the rift and space created between you both. Your birthday up until you moved resulting in a gift card to the local record shop and a few tapes or CDs he wanted to share with you.

The younger girl belted out the lyrics, the loose strands of her hair whipping around from the cracked windows. You sang along with her, though not as loud, indulging her despite the ache that had settled in your bones. Having overthought yourself into a weird mood before class.

Suddenly the music faltered before the warbling completely as the ribbon inside began to loosen from the spool and hang out from the deck.

“Shit, that’s not good.” Ellie lamented as she reached forward to push the play button in to pause the music. She hit the ejection button and carefully pulled the tape from the mouth of the player. Her charcoal stained fingers spinning the spools one at a time to wind the ribbon back where it should be. A few moments later and she was reloading it and pushing play but the speakers only crackled before the tape ejected itself.

“Damn, it died.”

You didn’t say anything, thoughts a whirlwind as you panicked over loosing the last tangible connection you had with your estranged father. If she picked up on your tense silence, Ellie didn’t comment on it, leaving the tape hang half out the deck and moving to use the radio for the remainder of the ride.

The house looked the same, Joel’s house, nestled to the side of a small cul-de-sac. The neighborhood calm and quiet in the early afternoon.

The graying curls you would recognize anywhere peaked from where Ellie’s care was being inspected by Joel laid out on a roller underneath the carriage. The hood was propped open and a giant tool storage cabinet had been wheeled closer to the opening of the garage. She bounded up to him, talking too fast for you to make anything out from the curb.

But Joel must’ve been able to decipher at least some of it because his gaze turned to you, oil staining one of his cheeks and his chest puffing up with a deep breath.

You felt your own breath catch low in your throat, a lump of air making it hard to breathe.

You drove off with your heart hammering in your chest.

It was now February, the dreaded holiday of the month approaching and your birthday right along with it. A shame, that such a day overshadowed any plans you had once made. The holiday taking precedent with prefix menus that brought in generous tips from happy couples and friends. But this year, this year you could do whatever you wanted.

Stay in, go out, order takeaway, drown yourself in fancy truffles. Whatever you wanted. But the weight in your heart didn’t have you all too keen for the day to arrive. Wondering what Joel had decided for his special menu, the drinks Millie worked with Mary on to pair alongside it. Maybe….maybe you could snag a seat at the bar and indulge?

You let the thoughts trail off and focused on grading the papers in front of you. Needing to get them done before your attention was pulled by a movie night with your friends.

You were up at exactly one minute before the clock stuck midnight. Bleary eyes watching the progression of the last sixty seconds before it was officially your birthday. Your phone buzzed with two texts immediately, all camps too much to handle in the early hour. Turning it to silent mode, you turned over and listened to the faint sounds of Sweet Pea playing with a bell down in the living room, hoping sleep would come back to you.

Waking up for a second time was a whirlwind, snooze allowing for you to sleep in until the absolute last minute before you had to get up. Shoving the tube of fabric that was a simple, off the shoulder dress over your head and fluffing up your hair with dry shampoo and you were out the door and headed to the campus.

“Alright, everyone, since I’m feelin’ a little generous today!” You clapped your hands once, noticing Ellie slink in at the last minute before you typically announced the beginning of class. “I’m gonna play a documentary for today- but!”

You interrupted the happy chuckles from the group of about thirty or so individuals you had interviewed and approved for your program. “I will need a paper on the methods used to help identify the remains and artifacts, with your general interpretation of the cultural basis hypothesized from them due next class!”

“Professor, c’mon. It’s my birthday, it’s your birthday: let’s all just take it easy.”

A chorus of, “Is it really your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell us!” rang out across the room. Certain individuals looking genuinely upset that they had missed out on a chance to let you know how much they appreciated you and liked you. It made the ache in your heart lighten just a bit, weird mood about the day waning slightly in their unabashed openness. Ellie was oddly silent, normally one to engage loudly and enthusiastically, her phone in her hand, fingers a blur as she fiddled with it.

“If you really want to do something for me, please, concentrate on the documentary!” You turned your back to the class, booting up the video on your laptop and tugging down the projector screen that was closed and stored up above the whiteboard. Turning the lights off, save for one in the back for them to take notes with, you pressed play and offered one last tidbit before the opening credits rolled, “But it doesn’t hurt to bring a gift card for any local coffee shops.”

“Need a ride today, Ellie?” You asked the lingering girl, slow to pack her bag up once the class had ended and hesitant to disembark from the campus altogether. Her car was in the shop, something needing repair that was beyond Joel’s skill set. As well as a new set of tires they were waiting on to get delivered before installing them. The ones she had for the more intense weather seasons of Boston worn down over the years and needed replacing. You didn’t mind totting the younger girl around, offering her help with proof reading papers and going over terms that didn’t easily stick. Talking about nothing in particular, though Joel had been diligently inside the house or away each time you dropped her off at home, no more awkward glances since your little display of speeding off the first time.

“Was gonna offer to get you a coffee,” She wouldn’t look directly at you, setting you on edge. You were about to ask her if everything was okay when she suddenly swung her bag on her shoulder and faced you. “I’m helping at the restaurant today, assumed you wouldn’t be cool with dropping me off there.”

An hour later, you were both loaded in the car with too expensive coffee drinks and pulling up to the front of the restaurant. You didn’t want to test if you had clearance to park in the employee lot, not sure what would hurt more. The denial of your code beeping or the approval of your code chirping and opening the gate. Sighing, you put shifted into park and let the engine idle.

Ellie seamed to be taking her sweet time once again. Moving slow to collect her things, having hesitantly showed you the project she was working on for one of her art courses. The bell above the front entrance sounded as the door opened and your head snapped up to see Joel walk through it. He paused, holding the door open beside him as he gave a small wave to Ellie and a somber nod to you.

Yous lips lifted at the corners as you noticed the stain of what had to be beets on his otherwise pristine apron, the white of it displaying the dark red in a disturbing way. His other hand was behind his back, shrouded in the shadows of the interior. He shared a hushed work with Ellie as she finally exited the truck and slinked past him with a last wave toward you.

But Joel didn’t follow her inside.

He stepped outside completely. The door closing behind him with a soft thump.

He was walking toward the truck, the passenger window down all the way as Ellie relished in the fresh air before knowing she wouldn’t leave until well past midnight after the rush of the holiday.

Your fingers dug into the skin of your thighs, dress having ridden up during the drive to expose the tops of them. The sun warm on them as your nails made crescent shapes in their softness, making your anxiety for the world to see. You were otherwise frozen, unsure of what to say, how to talk. He looked so good. Longer hair slicked back, sliver glinting in the sunlight at his temples and in the scruff of his face. A vaguely heart shaped patch where it didn’t grow in too tempting of a sight as you recalled the way it felt to pepper kisses there.

Joel’s eyes flickered down to your mouth as your tongue swiped out to wet your suddenly dry bottom one, his hidden hand finally shifting from behind his back.

You couldn’t help the little gasp that pushed from your chest as a boquet of flowers was revealed to be in his grip.

The colors of it shades of orange, gold, and yellow. A mix of chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and peonies all wrapped in a delicate tissue paper with a white ribbon holding it all together. In the middle of the front of it, there was something shiny.

“Thought it was an emergency, when she started blowing up my phone a few hours ago.” He finally spoke, stepping off the curb and up to the passenger side of the car. He extended the bouquet to you, hiding his face from you for a moment. You were able to make out the shiny thing in the middle.

It was a copy of the tape that had died the first time you had given Ellie a ride home. The one you couldn’t find anywhere online. The one you had almost just ordered a CD or digital version of. The one you had almost reached out to your father to ask about. It was impossible to find, to replace. But it was there, in the middle of a beautiful arrangement of flowers.

A sob suddenly wracked through your body, hands coming up to cup your chin and hold any others in as fat tears fell hot from your eyes.

“Oh no, no – this – this was supposed t’make you smile, darlin’, not burst into tears.” Joel quickly lowered it, moving it out of view of the windows frame and pulling it back behind him. “I’m so sorry, I – I was just trying to do somethin’ nice for ya on your special day.”

You hiccupped as you reached out a hand in a weak wave, wiping at your cheeks with the other.

“No, Joel, it’s…it’s really sweet of you to do this. I just…I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do, you deserve everythin’, darlin’.” He reached through the open window and gently placed the bouquet down on the passenger seat. Molasses eyes catching yours as he offered you a weak smile and a nervous display of his fingers slinking his hair back. “Just wanted to do somethin’ for you today. I didn’t know last year and well, this year I do.”

“Joel…”

“Don’t need anything from you, really. They’re for you and that’s that.” He shuffled on his feet, watching as the breeze ruffled your loose hair and the fabric of your dress, sleeves flowing in the wind, the shine of your necklace in the sunshine.

“Thank you, really. I- I appreciate it.” You reached over to tug the cassette from its secure spot. Turning it over in your hands, taking in the scratches on the plastic of the case. The memory of looking over the massive collection he had displayed in one of the guest rooms, the small shelving unit he had made himself to store all the tapes he had previously kept in boxes in the garage. “Joel, this is from your collection, I can’t-“

“You can ‘n I wanted to. Ellie told me yours got ate and I don’t listen to the tapes much these days, just the vinyl.”

Voice gone and heart beating fast, you nodded. Feeling the urge to lean over and pull him into the truck to drive around for hours and listen to the reverent offering in your hands. But he had a holiday menu to get back to and you had a new recipe to try out. Each on their own and in different worlds.

He patted the window sill twice with a wide palm before he was turning away and disappearing back inside. You watched him go, heart urging you to call out to him while your mind told you it wouldn’t ever be that simple again.

Friends had come and gone, sharing dinner and gifts with you. Crappy movies and good liquor, laughs abundant and feelings so alive. The kind of day that reminded you that you were alive and well. The kind of day that made everything else worth it, small moments tiding you over until you could feel like full and bright again.

You stared at the flowers until the alcohol in your system blurred them, the colors running together and dimming as sleep pulled you under in the late hour. The tape playing through to the end before the machine finally shut off, blanketing you in your passed out state.

You would stare at them, as if they were pulling your attention every time you were in the kitchen or the living room. Choosing to hide away in your office or upstairs when you were home where they were out of site. When they began to wilt and dry up, you moved them to the back patio, not able to through them out but not able to reach out to the man who had gifted them to you.

Finally removing them from the vase and cleaning it out. You bagged them up and left them on the counter to deal with after class. One that went by in the blink of an eye, almost like the day was rushing toward something. Rushing you toward something. The slow thrum of…something deep in your bones as you engaged in the discussion, leading it back to the focal point if it got too off tangent.

The routine of giving Ellie a ride one that hadn’t been prevalent lately since her car had been fixed and the middle of the semester rolled around. But today it seemed to be one of the things that time was ushering you toward. Driving Ellie home with post class treat of milkshakes this time, the weather beginning to inch toward the dry heat that was prevalent most of the year.

“Thanks again! See you Thursday, professor!” Ellie hollered over her shoulder as she all but tore out your truck and ran towards the front door. By passing the scene of Joel stood in the driveway, garage open behind him once again.

“I better! You have a midterm!” You hollered after her, no real malice in your voice.

She whizzed past Joel who was stood at the front of her car, hood open and engine block exposed to his perplexed expression. His hands were on his hips, a wrench in one and a screwdriver in the other. He was looking down into the exposed parts with a look you couldn’t quite read from the curb but when he spotted Ellie he called after her.

“Babygirl, I don’t see anything wrong with it. You said it was making a rattling sound, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! A rattling sound.”

“From…where, exactly?” He turned a furrowed brow to her but she was determined to get away from his prying gaze, scurrying off without any more words. Her bag thumping against her shoulders as she rushed toward the door.

You had been so focused on watching her nearly trip over the steps leading to the front door that you didn’t notice Joel rise from his spot tinkering with something on her car and approach the side of yours.

“Hey there,” His cautious voice greeted you too close through the open window.

“Oh jesus, fuck! Joel don’t do that!” You startled so bad the seatbelt locked up and tightened around you, preventing you from taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Shit, sorry. Thought you saw me comin’ over.” A sheepish rub of his hand along the back of his neck, had your eyes roaming over the picture he made in the frame of the open window. Perfectly fitted, as if he should be on the inside of the truck beside you instead of standing outside of it. Close, but not close enough.

Quiet fell over the both of you, Joel looking into the cab of the truck, grease and oil marring his beautiful skin and white t-shirt and you gazing just to the right of him, not able to directly do so now that his attention was focused. The words shared between you both, all of the good, all of the bad, and all of the confusing floating in the heavy air between two people who had lived far too much in such a short amount of time. Echoes of everything passing in the charged air between you both.

Your name being uttered had your eyes glancing at his, the sun lighting them up into a bright hue and your heart fluttered in your chest. You held his gaze for a few seconds, heat creeping up your neck from the pulse of warmth that only he could cause filling your chest.

“Alright, well…thanks for bringing Ellie home.” He reached a handout to pat the side of the truck before shoving away.

“Hey, Joel, wait…” You leaned over, hoping that the words in your throat didn’t get stuck. When he turned quickly back to you, there was a hopeful pinch to his features, lips pursed as he waited with bated breath for you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with him again, keeping up the connection. The hope that glinted in them helped the words to flow from you in a quick push.

“Do, um, do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”

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