#not to mention how many doctors just force you to do things that WILL NEVER WORK | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cometkenji · 2 months

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killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

Text

Too Late

PLATONIC Father!Alastor x Child!GN!Reader

TW:DEATH– Mentions of murder and Alastor’s killings.

A/N: Prompt goes to Anon and amazing drawing by @aboyscriminalrecord!

You were always a sick child especially when you were a baby, you cried constantly and Alastor always hated it. It got on his nerves but you were his child. Those nights he stayed up to make sure you had gone to bed easily, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead when you had finally tired yourself out and went to bed. That’s when he went out to deal with his “problems”. Pesky people who decided to dig a little too deep or ask one too many questions, he didn’t take too long. He never did, he was quick and efficient with his killings.

Then he would rush home to you, make sure you were okay and not coughing up a storm. Then as you grew up the sickness disappeared for a little while, allowing you to run around the front yard and play in the dirt whilst he was finishing up his own business. His Mama adored you, teaching you all the little things he had trouble expressing. A gentler hand to guide you around, but you adored your Papa. He promised to be better for you and never lay a hand on you much like his own did.

Then the sickness came back with a fiery passion. It had started with a call to his work from the school nurse, first his Mama just passed and now he’s got word of that disease coming back to plague his child? He was at a loss for words, he was scared. He had rushed you to the doctors that day with the promise of your favorite treat when you both got home. He couldn’t lose you after losing his Mama- your grandmother.

The next few days you were on bed rest, too sick to properly get out of bed and play. He threw himself more into his “work” once you passed out from exhaustion, your favorite teddy bear tucked in your arms as your breathing became labored. He was running out of time. He became sloppier in each kill, where he would easily kill them in one swing it became two..then three. Every kill was for you, every swing of the axe he pleaded with god to give you more life to take away that cursed sickness that plagued your life. Everytime he would come home without fail to see you bundled up in your bed.

But on this night, it felt different. As he stepped into the silent house his stomach and heart dropped, something was wrong. He rushed to your bedroom, taking off the leather gloves that were soaked in dark red blood as his footsteps roared up the too silent hallway. Hands shakily opening your bedroom door to see you on the floor wheezing horribly with every breath you took. Teddy bear clutched to your chest, blood dripping from your lips as you cried out for him. For your papa. He fell to his knees and pulled you into his chest.

Soft whispers fell from his lips as he tried to calm your tears as another loud wheezing cough ripped through your small frame, his much larger hand holding your head to his chest as he tried to look around. There had to be something that could help, but your body felt too light. Much like a feather. Your tiny hand clutched his shirt as tears dripped down his face, he was trying to force a smile on his lips he couldn’t let you see how upset he was. But you only pushed the Teddy bear into his arms asking if he could watch over him while you took a nap.

How could he say no to you? He moved the bear into his arm as he sat back, pulling your smaller frame fully onto his lap as he sang your favorite song. The one he always sang to get you asleep when you were such a fussy baby. He watched your body tremble into his hold as your eyes slowly closed, breathing coming to a slow stop. Before the inevitable happened and you let out your last breath, your smaller hand falling from his shirt. He stayed there for an hour or more, he didn’t want to move.

Yet he knew he had to do so, he had to give you a proper burial. He looked at your teddy bear one last time and frowned. He didn’t realize how much it had resembled him. No wonder why you loved it so much.

A/N: I cried so much. Good luck Pookie <33 ALSO I WONT BE ABLE TO REPLY FOR A BIT SO ENJOY THE ANGST

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #platonic

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dulcesiabits · 2 years

Text

rules of rationality.

summary: You’re one of the few people Alhaitham trusts to take care of him when he’s injured.

notes: 1.5k words, fic, mentions of injuries + blood, slight suggestive content

He always comes to you when he’s injured.

Alhaitham never explains why, and you know better than to ask. He simply shows up at your door, methodically reciting his list of potential injuries, as you guide him to the couch and press gauze and disinfectant on his wounds.

There could be any number of reasons that he’s been hurt, though you had joked that you didn’t think being the Akademiya’s Scribe was such a dangerous job when you first met him. Now, you think that it’s less of his job that’s the cause of all his little altercations, and more of a symptom of his personality.

“You might need stitches,” you say. “I recommend going to a doctor.”

You perch on the arm of your couch, right above where Alhaitham’s head reclines on a pillow. He’s stretched across the length of it, his legs dangling over the other end. You’ve wrapped the wound around his torso as best as you can, tending to the little cuts and scrapes littering his body. Despite Alhaitham’s claims of fragility, you know that he’s not bad in a fight. Who on earth had gotten the better of him?

“A doctor would ask too many questions.”

“You could die,” you say evenly.

“You wouldn’t let me. It would leave too much of a mess on your couch.” Amazing how even a lethal injury couldn’t cure him of his arrogance.

You brush a hand over his bangs, lightly skimming his forehead with your palm. He’s warm, but not feverish. Infection doesn’t seem to be too much of a risk, at least for now.

As many times as you’ve cursed his name, he’s right. You won’t let him die, not like this.

“Who was it?”

“That’s not important for you to know.”

“If you do die, don’t you want me to avenge you?” you ask.

“Vengeance would be a foolish risk with no clear reward,” he responds evenly.

You reach over and ghost your fingers down his cheek until you cup it one hand. He gazes back at you, unflinching. Alhaitham neither leans into your touch nor pulls away, but you know he wouldn’t have let you touch him if he didn’t want it.

“Why come to me?” you ask. You know the answer already, have heard it a dozen times already, but Alhaitham humors your little game.

“Why wouldn’t it be you?”

“You could go home and ask Kaveh to patch your wounds, too.”

“You know why I don’t.”

You do. Kaveh, as fond of him as you were, wouldn’t have handled the situation in a way that Alhaitham wanted. Kaveh would call the doctor, would demand names, would force Alhaitham to rest until he was healed.

On the other hand, you’re not nearly as kind as that. Maybe that's why Alhaitham always showed up at your door instead.

The first time an injured Alhaitham came to you was several years ago, when your partnership had just started, and you barely knew who he was. During your first meeting, he sought you out one day, as one of your shared confidants had given him your name.

“Someone is smuggling knowledge capsules out of Sumeru. You know who.” That was the first thing Alhaitham said to you, and it had been a statement, not a question.

You smiled curtly at his brashness, a stranger who cornered you in an alley without any fanfare. “Why should I tell you anything, stranger?”

“Make a deal with me. Knowledge for knowledge.”

“And what can you offer me?”

His eyes had bored into you, unwavering. “I can offer you the Akademiya.”

Well. The wayward scholars who stumbled into your grasp weren’t nearly as enticing as the Akademiya’s Scribe. This was a once in a lifetime deal, and who were you to refuse? Knowledge was precious, your only form of currency and power, and someone had just offered you the key to the nation’s treasury. As it was, the two of you dealt in knowledge, but very different kinds. So you would give him information about the backdoor deals crawling around Sumeru, the whispers in the marketplace, the late night rumors. In return, he would give you access to the Akademiya’s wealth of papers, to academic history, to information most could only dream of.

So you told him the location of the smuggling, wished him luck, and returned home during the evening to find Alhaitham bleeding against your doorway.

“Don’t get blood on my carpet,” you had said, unlocking the door so he could stumble in. It didn’t surprise you that someone as smart as Alhaitham could guess the location of your hideout; what did surprise you, however, was the reason why he decided to go to you.

“My roommate is nosy. He would ask too many questions. And going to the doctor means risking rumors spreading about my condition,” he had explained, not even out of breath as you wrapped gauze around the gash on his arm.

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t use this against you? Alert your enemies where you’re hiding?” you replied.

“An information dealer who backstabs their customers wouldn’t make it through the night.” And there it was again, his eyes on yours, eyes like cold steel before it bit into your throat.

You didn’t look away. “There might be a day I can’t save you, you know. But feel free to keep coming until then.”

And he did. And he had. And here Alhaitham is again, at the mercy of your rudimentary medical skills.

Alhaitham’s voice snaps you out of your musings. “You should watch your back. One of your clients is a rat.”

“Let me guess. They’re the one who gave you that little stab wound as a present?”

“Most likely. And the mercenaries they hired to attack me wanted to know your location.”

“What?” You rise from the couch. “They attacked you because they were after me?”

“They were after both of us. They just got to me first.”

You sink back down with a sigh. “Damn. I’ll move to a different place. This location could already be compromised.”

Alhaitham calls your name. “You could stay with me.”

You don’t look at him this time; instead, you card your fingers through his hair. Staying with Alhaitham wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You like Kaveh, and Alhaitham is still a member of the Akademiya; he would be under their protection, and so would you, by extension. It would be risky to move in, but it would also be risky to stay on your own.

But. But the knowledge that the only reason he’s injured is because he was protecting you makes something bitter choke your throat. The two of you are good business partners. You don’t want to lose the connections he affords you.

No, that isn’t true. You just don’t want to lose him.

“If someone is after both of us, then it’s too dangerous for us to be together. As soon as you’re feeling better, we need to leave.”

You’ll need to prepare for departure, then. Burn anything incriminating, remove any trace you lived here. You stand, checking Alhaitham’s wounds once again. Everything still looks fine.

“No goodbye kiss for your patient?” he says.

“Goodbye kiss? What, are you feeling sentimental now?”

“I’m just suggesting it because it looks like you’re the one who wants to kiss me.”

You roll your eyes. “Next time you stop by, I’m not opening my door.”

But you lean down and press your lips against his. He places one hand against the back of your head to pull you closer, and you nip at his lip in annoyance. As you pull away, you rest your forehead against his for a brief moment. He’s still warm, but not dangerously so.

The two of you are strictly business partners. Sure, you don’t kiss any of your other clients like this, but Alhaitham has always been an exception to your rules. For starters, the two of you meet frequently, even if you don’t have any information to trade. You pester him to meet at restaurants so you could order a nice meal and push the bill towards him. He’s always one of the first to know where your newest hideout is, even if you don’t tell him. And, normally you only deal with information; whatever your clients end up doing with it is none of your business. But you always follow up with Alhaitham… or maybe it’s more like he never leaves you alone, sticking by your side like a pesky burr.

It had started small, whatever “it” was. A hand on your back. Resting your chin against his shoulder. And then it escalated, so naturally you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. His hand on yours. Your lips against his. A night where he didn’t go home, and stayed by your side until the morning. And then more nights like that, to the point you might start fearing an empty bed.

Alhaitham is dangerous, in more ways than one.

With another quick kiss against his lips, you rise. “All right, Scribe, get some rest. You’ll need it.”

He doesn’t say goodbye, but you don’t expect one. There are never any farewells between the two of you, only the unspoken promise to survive, and see each other again.

#liya writes #genshin impact #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #alhaitham imagines #al haitham #al haitham x reader #SORRY HE HAS ME DOWN BAD IDK WHAT TO SAY #and i wanted to try writing a complicated relationship hehe

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jennifer-jeong · 3 months

Note

Reader plays LDS game and little does she know that the boys can feel her emotions whenever she plays it or whenever she gets the card or memories of her fav boy for example-Zayne and the other two gets jealous idk and how they wish to be real and be with her.......

HELLO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME A HOT SECOND I was stressing and thinking about how to approach this but I think I got it now >:) (also school and life is kicking my ass but we don't talk about that)

[Fluff] [Love and Deepspace x Reader] "Virtual" Boyfriend

Rafayel sneak peak LMAOOO^

CONTENT Fluff, slight angst, gender neutral reader, Rafayel crack, mentions of the boys trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

What I’m thinking is that the boys are conscious within the world of your phone. They can feel you and hear you but they can’t quite see you. You’re almost invisible in a way but they can feel your energy when you’re present. They feel it when you poke them in destiny cafe or touch them in the kindled memories. They hear your voice when you speak in game. They’ve lived the lives outlined for them in their lore and you’re who they’ve been searching for. They’re restricted in what they can say to you when you interact, it's some weird force they don’t understand. They know when you’re online but the same weird force prevents them from finding you, you have to go to them. (Zayne lives both lives of doctor and dawnbreaker, which he is happy about. He would’ve passed away if he had to be the one of two Zaynes to be dawnbreaker)

XAVIER hates that whoever made this world made him suffer for like a century only to have him find you and you aren’t even actually there. But he still loves feeling you there everyday, even if he's not the one that got chosen to sit in destiny cafe. Whenever you listen to his audios or interact with him through cards, destiny cafe, or playtime, his hands are shaky. It’s the only thing that he actually gets to express to you of his own free will. They shake because he’s so nervous but excited to finally be with you. He’s a patient man, he’s willing to wait for you everyday, he just wishes he could be where you actually are ): . He’s a smart man with an excess of free time, he’ll figure out how to get to you, someday.

ZAYNE has spent his whole life in this world in love with you. But now that he’s got you, and he can’t even see you, he’s started to accept that you’re just always going to be out of his reach. He loves when you do visit though, it makes him feel so warm. When you interact with him, he wants so badly to just be able to freely speak to you and tell you how much he loves you. His character is pretty cold because that is his personality, but when he sees you, he desperately wants to stop being distant with you, he wants to tell you all the soft and warm things he has to say. He wants to be where you actually are, he’s sick of basically just being Dawnbreaker Zayne where he just dreams of you and never gets to see you. He’s solved so many mysteries in the medical and wanderer hunting world though, he’s probably genius enough to figure this one out too.

RAFAYEL has been looking for you this whole time and is so frustrated that he found you and can’t even freely speak to you. Rafayel often ends up in glitches in the game because he desperately wants to break out of his confines and just talk to you. Every time you interact, he’s trying to find some way to tell you he loves you and that he’ll always be here no matter what. He gets pretty jealous when he doesn’t get to sit in destiny cafe with you, he doesn’t know who exactly sits in his place but he wants to be the only one you have eyes for, the only one that you touch, even if it’s not quite “touching.” He’s already lost everything he has except for you. He’s willing to do anything to get to you, he just hasn’t figured out how to do it, yet.

Rafayel glitch collection:

+ THIS video LMAOO

Personal follow up hc that they can interact with you when you daydream of them!!! It’s the only way they can reach you and feel you properly. Pretend they eventually figure this out and you live happily ever after !!! (cope)

Photo credits from twitter! https://x.com/nonbiriotome/status/1754530273033683337?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/miyabi_lad/status/1754318127339639244?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/zaynerei/status/1760258500746445149?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/xaviersdaily/status/1759516449758908615?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/yubeljin/status/1752770210124210303?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g

Thank you for the ask and for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace crack #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier crack #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne crack #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel crack #j's silly ramblings #j's asks

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justawritterwithideas · 1 year

Text

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ next part ✩

summary: Spencer and Y/N meet in college after a book search, creating a friendship where opposites attract. But Spencer has to move across the country to pursue his happiness and completely loses contact with Y/N. What if fate decides it's time to meet after 15 years and with a crazy stalker in between? Spencer won't lose to fate again and will do anything in his power to protect Y/N.

warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

this will be a small series of chapters so here are the general precautions of the series, each chapter will have its own precautions. !!!

words: 3,909 words.

a/n: hey! here alme with a little series i've been planning for a couple of weeks now. as you may know, i've been talking about the spencer reid x famous!reader relationship but as hayley williams, so i decided to set myself the challenge and write a little series called "boy wonder and the rockstar", so i hope you like it. i haven't planned how many chapters it will have yet but i don't want to make it too long, and also patience with each chapter. so, I don't want to make it longer and I'll leave you the first chapter. thank you. ♡

𝟎.𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲.

Spencer always lived under the stigma of being a child genius. His I.Q. was 187, he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory.

Everyone around him told him what to do, from his mother, to his "friends," to his teachers, to his neighbors.

"Hey Spencer, with that brain of yours you could make it in the government" "Spencer you could be part of NASA" "Spencer you could be a mathematical genius like Einstein!" "Spencer you're going to get into the CIA!"

"And where are you going to go to college? Because you know Harvard is already a lock for you" "I bet you'll go to YALE, that's where all the smart ones go" "Princeton is an excellent choice for you!" "MIT could open a lot of doors for you"

Spencer this, Spencer that.

But no one really thought about what Spencer wanted. Maybe he wanted to be a magician and make children happy with his tricks. Maybe he wanted to be a trapeze artist, or a fireman, or an astronaut, or just an ice cream man.

All these expectations of Spencer reached a point where he didn't even know what he wanted in life. He lived under the shadow of the expectations and visions people had placed on him, and he didn't want to let them down. He was just a kid, a kid scared of adult life who had to impose himself because others imposed it on him.

That's how his brain made him skip grades, have to enter high school at age 12, and have to suffer a lot of abuse from the grown-ups for just being a boy genius.

Spencer sometimes wished he could make his brain disappear and have a normal one. Then he could have normal friends, go to a normal school, have a relationship, experience the problems people his age have, and be able to feel the phases of adolescence like any other kid.

But things were not like that.

He had to live the life he had been dealt, with his genius brain and the damn adult problems at 13.

CalTech was a new life he had to accept, but it wasn't as bad as the one he had before. His mind was kept busy for a long period.

He was forced to grow up around books full of equations, chemical elements and mathematical problems, managing at 16 to get his first college degree, which was Mathematics, and the following year to get a PhD in it. But he did not dislike this.

But as they say it is never enough, he kept on studying until he was 21. Thanks to this, he became a doctor of two more degrees, Chemistry and Engineering, in addition to Psychology, Sociology and Criminology.

His social life at the university was not so hectic, in fact, he only stood out for the fact that he was a boy genius, and that was it. To other people, he was a person like any other.

Until one autumn day, in the middle of his 19 years and studying psychology, his paths were interrupted by crossing that of others, and that, probably, is the person who changed his life the last years of college.

It was an ordinary day in the university library. Spencer had been rereading an encyclopedia of human anatomy for two hours. Why you may wonder, well, it was his way of killing time during his free time.

Acquiring knowledge was the best way to keep his brain fed and occupied, according to the boy.

He had eaten his sandwich a couple of minutes ago and let his brain feed on information at that moment, trying to persuade his intrusive thoughts at that minute. Through the pages you could see the muscular system, focusing on the leg and foot areas.

To be honest, it looked quite interesting.

That day, leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, filling the ground with their autumn colors; there was a gentle cool breeze, a strong smell of wet dirt and people were crowded in the warmer areas of the campus. It was no surprise to anyone that the library was one of the most crowded areas, the vast majority of people were gathered around the tables as large college texts lay open on them.

Spencer was sure he had seen more than one student curse at the fact that they couldn't find what they were looking for, and then walk out of the room in exhaustion. It wasn't the first time someone had cursed his name because they found themselves reading the text they were looking for and, besides, they weren't able to approach and ask for it.

He could believe it was cowardly on their part, maybe they were too shy to be able to do it or it was an excuse to put off studying what they were looking for. Even though he considered that the The study methods they had were not very good and, if they started studying earlier, they could increase their grad-

"Excuse me."

A voice interrupted the conversation Spencer was having with himself, pushing away his intrusive thoughts that were beginning to take over his mind. The young man's head turned and he saw a girl, perhaps his age, staring at the encyclopedia in front of him.

"I asked Miss Wellington about the Rouviére and Delmas encyclopedia of human anatomy, and well..." The girl looked over Spencer's shoulder. "She told me that maybe the boy sitting at the back table had it. There are no other tables in the back and you're the only guy sitting here, so I think my deduction is correct and you have it."

"Y-yes, this is the encyclopedia you're looking for." Spencer admitted, looking at the young woman.

More than looking at her, he was admiring her. She was wearing a red skirt and hoodie with some embroidered words on it, her legs were also wearing dark leggings and some rather damaged black converses, over it she was carrying another coat and a backpack; her arms were loaded with medical and anatomy books, plus her hair was disheveled.

"Great! Must be my lucky day that a cute guy has it." Her books fell onto the table and she sat down next to Spencer.

The boy could smell the scent of tobacco and mint mixed with the scent of cherry perfume.

"May I see?" Spencer turned to look at her and, even though he was reading that book first, his head nodded. "Fine! I just want to see..." The sound of the leaves was rapid, as if a fan was moving them. "This... Nervous system."

Suddenly, and as if by magic, a notebook appeared in front of them both and quickly the girl was beginning to write on the blank sheets, even though to Spencer it looked more like a scribble than a resume as such.

"Shit, what is this?" the girl paused to read more closely. "In the central axon, the electrical signal is converted into a chemical signal, and then releases the chemical signal with chemical messengers called neur-neurotransmitters." The sound of the pencil falling on the table made the boy startle.

"Nervous system?"

"That's right, I have a lecture in three days and I'm still trying to associate concepts in the nervous system. Like my nervous system isn't nervous anymore."

Spencer chuckled to himself, the girl had a funny sense of humor.

"In fact, when the brain interprets that we are in danger, it produces a rush of adrenaline that activates the heart and muscles to place them on alert, but if prolonged, it can lead to health problems such as cardiovascular disease like heart attack and is associated with hypertension and arrhythmias and is the enhancer of other cardiovascular risk factors." Spencer turned to look at the girl, who looked quite interested in what he was saying, jotting everything down in her notebook. "But it's not that your nervous system is 'nervous', it's that it interprets that it's in danger and so it sends that kind of stimulus to your body that makes you anxious."

"I see you know about the nervous system, much more than I do." The girl scanned him from head to toe. "Are you a medical student?"

"No, CalTech doesn't have a medical degree, but I am a doctor." The boy admitted.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Shit, and you already have a doctorate?"

"Actually I have three."

Silence stretched between the two, caused by the woman's shock.

"Are you some kind of alien or is your brain too big that it stores more information than I can retain?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 so I can read 20,000 words per minute, plus I have eidetic memory. But I prefer the concept of being more advanced than others."

The girl stared at him.

But to his surprise, the young woman only let out a giggle.

"You're funny, I like it." No one had ever told Spencer that he was funny. In fact, he thought that adjective didn't directly relate to him. "I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N."

"Spencer...Spencer Reid." Y/N denied.

"No, you're not Spencer."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Dr. Spencer Reid." Spencer smiled, she was right. "Well, it's nice to meet you, dr. Reid."

"Nice to meet you, Miss L/N." They both smiled.

"Well, now that I know your name, dr. Reid, we can start our friendship."

Spencer never thought making friends was so easy, even though he knew it was because the girl had gone to the trouble of calling herself his "friend," without even knowing him.

But that didn't bother him, in fact, he found it nice that someone had decided to be his friend.

Overnight, Spencer's evenings began to become more colorful, smelling of tobacco and mint, and filled with questions from Y/N, his new friend.

Although, at first, Spencer didn't seem comfortable around the girl, he quickly got used to it. He had learned several things about Y/N over the days, such as that she was a medical student at Pasadena City College, a college a couple of blocks from CalTech; she was the youngest in the family and had an older brother who had been diagnosed with leukemia a couple of years ago.

He had also learned that she was very into fashion, lived in an apartment complex nearby, smoked a couple of years ago, and only liked menthol tobacco cigarettes. Her favorite color was orange, but she didn't think it looked good on her, and she didn't see herself going to medical school, but she wanted to be a singer.

The first time Spencer heard Y/N sing was during a kermes in Pasadena City, she had been invited to sing on behalf of the medical school. Spencer never liked the idea of being around so many people, let alone at a kermes which was as unsanitary as possible, but his new "best friend" had begged him to go.

He couldn't say no.

He remembered perfectly how her hands shook with nerves, how she bit her lip as she cleared her throat and watched her bandmates, aka Y/N's other friends, rehearse with their instruments.

He knew she had practiced for this moment a bunch of times, had more than once arrived at Spencer's dorm wet from head to toe from running in the rain after a rehearsal, and hummed the songs under her breath every time they studied together in the library.

She was more than ready, but her own fears sometimes made her afraid of her talent.

Reid's eyes were on her, smiling confidently to convey that feeling as a guitar began to play the first chords, and announced the start of her performance.

Spencer didn't know what song it was, he wasn't even sure if the song was to his taste, but when he heard Y/N's voice he knew it had become his favorite song.

“Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her, she rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

And, oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me”

Their gaze was on each other, as if they were the only ones in that large space. The few times the eye contact was broken was when Y/N closed her eyes.

The song ended successfully and an avalanche of applause greeted Y/N, who thanked the audience for their attention. Soon another band filled the stage and for a few seconds, Spencer lost sight of Y/N. He wanted to tell her how great she had turned out, how all her effort and practice had made everything come out perfectly and that she looked like a total rockstar on stage.

"Spence! How was it, did you like it?" Y/N hugged the boy's arm, who turned to look at her with a sweet smile on his face.

"It was amazing, Y/N. Everyone loved it." Affirmed the boy.

"I was so nervous, I was so afraid it wouldn't go well, but I saw you there, and I felt like I could do it. You're my lucky charm, Spencie."

Spencer felt something jump in his chest.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm dying for some corn-dogs." Said the opposite.

"Y-yeah, let's get something to eat, my treat."

The day Spencer was accepted into the FBI academy was probably the most bittersweet day of his entire life.

At 22 years old, and in the middle of finishing his college semester for what felt like the fifth time, a letter arrived in his dorm room.

A letter of acceptance.

He could feel that all his hard work had been rewarded by whoever was up there. He quickly put on his sneakers and ran a marathon to the medical building at Pasadena City College.

His best friend's short red hair he could quickly visualize as he saw her smoking by the entrance, she seemed to be listening to something on her MP4 and bobbing her head to the beat of-who-knows-what song.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Spencer's voice sounded agitated, trying to get her best friend's attention.

The, now, redhead removed her earpiece and turned to see the tall boy running towards her.

"Spence?" From her mouth came the tobacco smoke, causing her to let the cigarette burn between her fingers.

"I made it, I got into the academy!"

The two big hazel eyes made contact with those of the girl, who dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk and hugged her friend tightly.

"I can't believe it, Spence! You did it! You did it! My goodness, I couldn't be prouder!" The younger girl began to do some jumping jacks as she didn't let go of her grip on his embrace.

"Thank you, Y/N. I couldn't have done it without you, you were the one who stuck with me through this whole process."

"You don't have to thank me, dorkie. I knew you'd make it, they couldn't leave out a genius like you." Soon they both disengaged from the embrace and the girl looked at the boy's face. "W-where is the academy? Tell me."

"I don't know, I-I didn't fully read the letter." He admitted embarrassed.

"Then read it! Go on." The girl took him by the arm and forced him to sit down on the faculty stairs.

Slowly, Spencer began to read the letter while Y/N listened intently to every word.

"The course begins on September 23rd of the current year in..." A pause.

Y/N looked at Spencer, who had stopped reading the letter.

"Where, Spence, what does it say?"

"The course begins September 23rd of the current year in Quantico, Virginia."

Y/N felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dropped on her.

Quantico? That was on the other side of the country!

"Q-quantico? Spence, that's on the other side of the-"

"Country, I know Y/N. I-I... I can't do it, I can't."

"What the fuck are you talking about!" The girl stood up startled, looking accusingly at her best friend. "No, I refuse. You have to do it, it's your dream, Spence! What you've always wanted for the last three years that I've known you, I refuse to let you back down now, I won't allow it!"

Spencer looked up from the letter, watching Y/N who was looking at him with her face burning with anger.

"You know I can't do that, what's going to happen to my mom? You know what's going on with her and her schizophrenia, I can't leave her alone."

"She would want you to go, Spence. Her happiness is where yours is, you know she'll be able to do it, there are plenty of options to help her." A long silence settled between the two of them.

Spencer didn't want to leave California, he didn't want to leave his mother or Y/N, he couldn't.

"Spencer Reid, I know what you're thinking right now, but I won't let you let this opportunity pass you by. You have dreamed of this exact moment for years, for as long as I have known you you have always wanted to go to the academy and you have done everything in your power to do so. Now they are offering it to you on a silver platter, you have to do it, there is nothing more you can do here in California. You've already studied all the existing careers in the world, you've already done what anyone in 50 years would have done and at your short 22 years you're already a doctor of three careers." The girl settled back down beside him, letting her icy hand wrap around Spencer's warm one. "You can't just limit yourself to staying here just because you have an engagement, the world has to know who Dr. Spencer Reid is like I know him, you have to go."

Spencer drew an elongated smile, feeling his body fill with that feeling of sadness that pervaded him from head to toe.

The redhead's words were true, it was his dream. But he didn't want to leave the only thing that made him happy on the other side of the country, he would love to carry it in his pocket to Virginia and have his dose of serotonin after each day.

He didn't want to stop smelling her tobacco and minty breath, the cherry smell coming off her clothes and the blueberry smell coming off her hair. He wanted to keep seeing the reddish locks of hair on his clothes and the cheesy paper notes in his pockets every time they met. He wanted to keep listening to the music on Y/N's MP4 every time he went to her apartment and drink coffee with lots of sugar that she made for him, keep hearing her voice in the shower and get biology questions at three in the morning every time she had a test.

He wanted to go to thrift stores to try on printed T-shirts and watch Y/N's camera fill up with pictures of the two of them, keep going to her shows with her band and eat frozen pizza after every gig.

He wanted to keep being with her.

But if she was letting him go, then he had to let her go too.

"I think I can go on living without hearing your bad jokes." Spencer's words lifted Y/N's spirits, who gave him a playful smile.

"Hey! My jokes are the best, last time you laughed for two hours."

"Because it was stupid."

They both laughed, letting the tension of the moment go with the last echo of their laughter.

"So you'll go across the country to make me proud?"

"Yes, I'll go make you proud."

Y/N's arms wrapped around Spencer's body, resting her head in the space of his shoulder and chin.

"I'm glad you didn't make a dumb decision."

Staying here with you isn't a dumb decision, Spencer thought.

They both pulled apart.

"Well, screw the skeleton. Let's go to the library and write your answer."

The girl's small hand imprisoned the boy's large hand, guiding him to the library to write what would be Spencer's fate.

The flight from California to Washington was five hours.

Five hours where Spencer and Y/N would be separated, and they would have to accept that fate had something different in store for the two of them.

Despite California being a sunny paradise, that day he wanted to keep the two friends company as they said goodbye at the airport.

"You already know my number, you know you can call me whenever you want." Commented the girl, who was in charge of carrying the book she had given him to read during the trip.

"I'm not such a fan of technology, you know that."

"There are pay phones over there too, Spence. It only costs a couple of cents to call me, plus they must have landlines there, and you have my email." The girl stopped in front of the door that separated goodbyes with new beginnings. "And if not, you can send me a letter. You know my address."

"A letter doesn't sound bad at all, in fact, for centuries, it was one of the most widely used means of communication by human civilizations since man began to write and whose importance transcended nations. The oldest courier service ever found was in Egypt in 2400 B.C. and in 1840, Sir Rowland Hill created the first postage stamp, which was called Penny Black, which was a profile drawing of Queen Victoria of England that had the rate 'One Penny' written on it."

"Oh Spence, I'm going to miss your fun facts about absurdly boring things." Commented the girl before she could hug him.

Spencer felt his heart clench.

"I'll miss you listening to me." They both turned in an embrace so tight it could take all the oxygen out of their bodies.

Neither wanted to be the first to say goodbye, neither was ready to leave the other. Their hearts were bound together like puzzle pieces, and just as when you lose one, the puzzle will no longer be complete.

"Now, you must go, your flight is about to leave." Y/N commented, separating from the young man as she wiped away the small tear that escaped from her eyes. "Miss me a lot, huh? And show off how pretty your best friend is."

"Always. Remember that wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you're with, you'll always be in my heart."

A pout settled in Y/N's mouth, who felt like she was letting a part of her go with Spencer.

"Don't forget about me, because I will never forget about you." Demanded the girl, who was pushing the boy to go for his flight.

"It's impossible for me to forget you, I have an eidetic memory." He said laughing, waving goodbye as he received the book the girl handed him.

The two met in a final embrace, where Spencer could smell the girl's cherry and menthol tobacco scent for the last time.

"Write me!" Y/N vociferated, waving goodbye to the boy who nodded and disappeared behind the airport doors.

Y/N and Spencer didn't know that at that moment fate would place them on trial, causing their paths to diverge for many years until, magically, they would come together again.

“When two souls are meant to meet, fate brings worlds closer, erases distances, joins paths and defies the impossible.” Anonymous.

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #it's my first series #almeseries

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arting-block · 2 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Eleventh Doctor x F! Reader

❝𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯.❞

Summary: After a stressful day, you overhear Amy arguing with the Doctor. When he realized you heard everything, he tries to set things right.

Warnings: Angst, mentioned kidnapping, misunderstanding, pinning, comfort, the Doctor sucking at feelings

Words: 3.8K

A/N: I'm finally getting through the requests sitting in my inbox. This one was one of my favorites I've done in a while :) @shuichiakainx i hope you enjoy!!

You messed up. Badly.

The Doctor had explicitly stated for you to stay by his side. No wandering about, no talking to strangers, don't do anything foolish. The city you were visiting had a different culture, one steeped in brutal violence. Any slight can be perceived as an invitation for war.

You should've minded your own business. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped. Even though your friends freed you hours ago, you can still feel the imprint of metal cuffs around your wrists. Your hands busy themselves with rubbing the area, bandages wrapped around your pulse where the metal snagged your skin.

You tried to defend an elderly man from getting hurt by a group of teenagers. You foolishly tried to shield the man from the onslaught of abuse, hoping to simply talk to the teenagers so that things wouldn’t escalate. Oh how wrong you were.

You knew you messed up. You had already regretted your choices the moment rough hands gripped your arms and hauled you into a foreign ship.

The Ashmadas were almost a whole head taller than you. Thick yellow hides that became scaly along their joints, blunt canines that were meant for crushing bones and skin, and the fluorescent eyes that glowed even in pitch black darkness. A species that evolved from war and brutality. Even the most intimidating human would look like field mice in comparison.

What you hadn't anticipated was the cold demeanor of your Doctor. You imagined him being cross, yes, but never downright angry. The moment he and the Ponds made it to the threshold where you were held, you noticed how calloused he had been. Snarling words, tension rippling beneath the skin. Furious didn't begin to explain his behavior. He threatened to set off a bomb that will incinerate everyone in the ship and release a plague to their already dwindling community. When you finally got out of your shackles, the Doctor barely even acknowledged you, hellbent on making the Ashmadas a new endangered species. It was only when you grabbed his face, forced him to see the tears as you begged him to leave, did he finally back off.

As the four of you retreated to the console room of the TARDIS, the Doctor makes a flimsy excuse about needing to check the ship’s engine. The day’s events have been heavy for all of you, so you knew it was more about him needing space. When you tried to talk to him, he brushed off your touch and gave you a cold reply.

You walked back to your room not long after. Rory patched you up as best he could, using a concoction of human and alien medicine. He didn't speak much and you were grateful for the silence. The only words he slipped out were sincere apologies for not getting there sooner. There was something else he wanted to say, moments where he opened his mouth but nothing came out. You were, frankly, too tired to press further.

Once Rory left, you tried your hardest to get some sort of sleep. Your body was spent, bruised, and tattered. No matter how many times you turned or how much your body ached, your mind couldn’t stop racing. You’ve probably spent a good hour or so trying to get comfortable, but to no avail.

You were still on edge, thinking about the cramped cell you were placed in. How alone you felt. You’ve been in precarious situations before, but this was different. Three whole days of captivity in total isolation. No light peeking through so you had nothing to distract you. Just your own memories passing through your mind. It made you realize just how much your friends mean to you. How much their presence comforted you, how relieved you were when Amy’s voice cut through your dark Hell. You remember sinking into the Doctor’s embrace, crying into his jacket and muttering how sorry you were.

There was so much you wanted to tell him. Those three days spent curled into a ball were filled with memories of him. His laugh echoing in your ear while carrying you throughout the universe. Petty arguments filled with teasing and embarrassed faces. The way he finds himself beside you, always lingering like a string was attached between the two of you.

The most treasured memory of all was one where it was just the two of you. Talking about nothing and everything. Favorite color, worst kitchen appliance, obscure historical figures. You talked for hours, laying your whole life for him to dissect. When it was his turn to speak, you took the opportunity to study him. Cataloging the slope of his nose, the lines around his mouth, and his mannerisms. The way he points going in tandem with the pitch of his voice, how his whole body moves when he talks.

You wanted to scream in his face the moment you saw him. Tell him the three words you repeat in your head when he’s around. Instead, all that came out was unintelligible sobs into scratchy fabric.

Tell him, tell him everything.

The bed creaked when you moved to sit up. Your heart ached at seeing the Doctor’s fury and how silent he was when you came back. You caused him worry, not just to him, but to the Ponds as well. The last thing you want is to end the day on a sour note. He’s your friend after all, even if you wanted something more.

It didn’t take long to reach the console room. You took your time with each step, wanting to get your thoughts in order. You pick up voices coming ahead of you, muffled words that you cannot make heads or tails of. As you approach the end of the hallway, you hear the muffled words turn into the familiar voice of Amy in a rather accusatory tone. You peek around the corner, observing the view of your two friends from above.

Amy stands a few feet away from the Doctor, who is hunched over the console. Amy’s face is a mix of concern and disappointment, as if she’s scolding a child. You notice the dirt smeared shirt she still wears, meaning she hasn’t gotten back to her room just yet. Was she here the whole time?

Crossing her arms, Amy shook her head at the tired man in front of her. “You’re never going to admit it are you?”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing to admit.” The Doctor’s answer is just as cold and detached as it was hours before. “If you’re just going to go back and forth with me all day then I suggest you go spend your time with your husband. I told you before I’m not in the mood for your scolding.”

Amy’s laugh is devoid of any humor. She takes a step towards the Doctor. You see the pent up anger in her; a fuse ready to blow. “You think you’re so good at hiding it. You think we’re too stupid to notice—that I’m too stupid to not bring it up?”

“What exactly are you talking about?”

You shouldn’t eavesdrop like this. If the Doctor found out that you were listening in on a private conversation, he would no doubt be more angry than before.

Amy ignored the question, wanting to force the Doctor into a corner to say what she wanted to hear. “I’m honestly impressed how long you’ve lasted. Were you going to bury your emotions and hope they would simply disappear? You think pushing her away is going to make it hurt any less? I see the way you look at her.”

The Doctor snaps back, angry and seething. “Spit it out already Amelia!”

“(Y/N)!” came her equally furious reply, one that echoed sharply in the large room.

Your heart skidded to a stop in your chest. Why was she goading him like this? You didn’t recall telling Amy about your feelings for the Doctor. Was it that obvious? If she noticed, does that mean…?

The Doctor was quick to invade Amy’s space. He towered above her, his teeth bared with provoked anger. “And what exactly do you want me to admit? That she's careless and doesn’t listen to a word I say? How do I have to clean up her mess after she did the one thing I told her not to?”

Hearing the pained emotion in his voice made every word sting harder. He was not wrong to say it, but it hurt nonetheless. You wished that he would’ve said it to your face rather than having to overhear it in the shadows.

He didn’t stop there. It seemed Amy had opened a dam of pent up thoughts and emotions. Words kept spilling from his lips, each one hurting more than the last. “You know what I see when I look at her? A fragile human being. Someone who is only going to occupy a fraction of my existence.”

“You love her,” Amy spits back, wholly convicted. Tears prick her eyes as she barrels on. “Admit you stupid old man. You. Love. Her.”

Her words seemed to shock the Doctor out of his wrath. He immediately steps back, as if her presence burns.

The two of them look at one another, chests heaving. Amy doesn’t back down, keeping her chin held high, meeting his burning gaze. The Doctor’s face is unreadable, partially due to the fact that you don’t have a good vantage point. The anger doesn’t leave him, but you could tell that he’s considering her words.

You hold your breath, not wanting to miss his response.

It comes out soft, barely within normal talking level, but in the dead silence of the console room you hear it as clear as day: “How can I love her? I won’t—I can’t let that happen.”

You felt your heart drop out of your chest. All of the hurt spirling inside your chest, clawing a cavernous hole to fill with despair.

He doesn’t love you.

You were paralyzed, replaying that awful sentence over and over again. You bring a hand to cover your mouth, feeling the droplets of tears already flowing.

He doesn’t love you and he’s making sure it doesn’t happen.

Are you that awful to be around? That the mere thought of being romantic with you makes him angry?

Your hand presses at the space where your heart lies. Your shirt twists, your body curling deeper into the shadows of the room. You’ve experienced heartbreak before, back on Earth throughout the years. Never like this. It was more than a simple rejection, but a swift blow to your entire worldview.

You thought, foolishly, that maybe there was something between you two. He wouldn’t have let you stay as long as you had if he didn’t like you. All those late night conversations…the small brushes of skin when no one is looking…all of the glances you caught more than once…

They were nothing.

Stumbling back into the hallway, you ran as fast as you could to your room. The TARDIS bestowed mercy on you, materializing your room just a few feet away. You didn’t think twice to fly open the door and slam it shut behind you. You knew the sound would travel to the console room and alert Amy and the Doctor, but you didn’t care.

The force of your cries shook your body, your sobs filling your room despite your hands trying to muffle them. Over and over you replay the entire conversation. You wished the TARDIS would swallow you whole and spit you far, far away from the Time Lord.

You hear the sound of thundering steps approach your room before the sound of frantic knocking against your door.

Before the person could utter a single word, you let out a strangled demand: “Go away!”

“(Y/N), I can—” the Doctor cut himself short. He let out a frustrated huff before starting again. “Please, it’s not what you think.”

Those words snapped you out of your whirlwind of sadness. Anger bubbled in its place.

“Not what I think?!” You didn’t think twice before forcefully opening the door. The Doctor jumps from his spot in front of your room, a show of surprise on his face. “I heard everything.”

The Doctor places his hand up in surrender. The cold, neutral face he had on before is completely wiped away, leaving a startlingly emotional one instead. “Please, if you give me a moment—”

“What more could you say to me?” It comes out shaky, with tears still dripping down your face in rivers. You no doubt look like a complete wreck, but you’re too upset to care. You’re tired of bottling your emotions up. You want him to know how much this meant to you, how much his words physically hurt you. “I know you’re already upset at me that I didn’t listen to you, I know that. You don’t get to stand there and act like this is a whole misunderstanding. I mean come on—fragile human?”

“I know and I’m—”

“I was so relieved to see you again. Three days, Doctor. Three whole days, spent in that cell waiting for you. I felt so guilty for not listening and I hoped that we could reconcile, but no. I was fine with giving you space, but then I had to overhear you talk about me like I’m some burden.” You force yourself to take a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. “Is that how you really feel about me?”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, which makes you even more angry.

“Did you know?” you spit out. It took everything in you to not shut the door in his face and never come outside again. But you needed to know. “Did you know?”

The silence that came thereafter was deafening. The Doctor let his hands drop to his sides. You didn’t dare blink, watching his every move, waiting for a response. His head dips to the side, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he stares at a spot on the floor. You knew he knew what you were referring to.

When he lifts his head, you were surprised to see such bare remorse. Still, it does nothing to quell you; if anything you’re happy he’s feeling the guilt.

“Yes…I knew for a while,” he mumbled, forcing the words to come out. “Rory’s mum told me, said that you liked me. I told her that of course you liked me, I’m the Doctor. But she gave me a serious look and told me you fancied me.” His lips twisted up at the memory, but seeing your withering glare he quickly dropped it.

You gripped the doorframe, recalling the visit clearly. The Ponds had called you, wanting to go on another adventure after nearly three months of normalcy on Earth. In their absence, it was just you and the Doctor against the universe. Three months of staring longingly at the madman in a box, wanting to spill your guts but feeling too scared to. When the Ponds came back, you remembered Rory’s mum taking the Doctor to the side, whispering in his ear. You had asked what she said, but the Doctor gave a flustered reply. His ears were pink, and his words were hastily spat out.

“That was over a year ago. You knew all that time?” You wanted to scream every curse you knew, both English and alien. It took everything in you to not tear him a new one right then and there. “And I had to hear you say it to Amy of all people? Someone who also fancied you, and if I recalled kissed you?”

It was unfair to throw that back in his face knowing that they moved on from that incident. Amy had since made it explicitly clear that she loved him platonically and was wholly committed to Rory.

The Doctor took a tentative step towards you, unsure if you were going to disappear back into your room. He took another, and another. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, opting to stare at his scuffed shoes.

You could feel him get closer. It unnerved how much you still wanted to be near him, despite everything.

The Doctor’s hands found the curve of your cheek, gently tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Warm palms cupped the sides of your face and his thumbs wiping away the tears that still fell. The sheer intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, burning into you. You watch as his green irises start getting glassy; the planes of his cheeks become a flushed pink. He stood there for a few moments, simply holding your face, looking at you as if it’s the last time he ever will.

You let yourself bask in his touch. He took another step towards you, still holding your face. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool touch of his forehead against yours.

“Doctor—”

“You have every right to be upset.” He gave a chuckle, but you heard the pain in his voice. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. I looked forward to the nights where you pester me with odd questions. Every morning I pray that you stay another day with me, hoping that you don’t wish to go back to Earth.”

The confession scares him, you feel it in the way he tries to keep his voice even. When he pulls his forehead from yours, he still hovers over your face, staring with the heat of all the feelings he tried so desperately to hide.

His eyes move over every inch of your face before settling back to your swollen eyes. You watch his eyes soften, as if he’s seeing the most beautiful star nestled in the depths of your pupils. So focused on the heat of his hands and the movement of his eyes, that you almost miss the twin stream of tears running down his own face.

The Doctor took one shuddering breath, letting his thoughts flow out. “I couldn’t let myself acknowledge my feelings—I couldn’t. Everyone I ever loved…everyone I got close to is gone because of me. I couldn’t let that happen, especially not to you. But then you had to get yourself kidnapped.” His voice trailed off, cracking at the memory.

You dared not to move, fearful that he would snap out of the spell he found himself in. You can’t recall a time where he was this open to you, about his feelings no less. All the pent up emotion you felt before settled to a dull throb in your heart.

“I would’ve brought the entire fleet down on its knees, have them beg for mercy.” You felt the rage in his voice, knowing full well that he meant every word. “When I couldn’t find you, I was terrified. You were gone before…”

His hands trembled, his breath became more ragged. You’ve never seen true terror on his face.

You whisper, just barely audible to his ears. “Before what Doctor?”

He shakes his head, almost wishing he didn’t open his mouth. When you silently pressed him to answer, he couldn't help but cave.

“I lied back there, with Amy,” the Doctor rushed, trying to get all his disorganized thoughts out. “I lied—I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“What? Didn’t mean wha—”

“It already happened,” he cried, his body caving towards you. “I told myself I couldn’t let myself love you. I…I lied.”

You felt your heart stop for the second time today. Your mouth slightly agape, unsure of how to respond. The Doctor takes a half step, effectively caging your body against his. You own shaking hands rested atop of his, hoping to calm him.

“Every moment I spent with you, I spent yearning,” he says with such emphasis that leaves no room for doubt. You cry harder at the admission. “I took my frustration on you, made you think that I could never love you. I do—Stars, I do. You have no idea how much I do.”

You couldn’t hold back the loud sob that overtakes your whole body. A cry that leaves the Doctor’s two hearts aching knowing that he caused your pain. He continues to rub his thumbs over your cheeks, not to wipe away the tears, but to soothe you.

“Say it,” you plead, words scraping against your throat. “Say it and I’m yours. I’ll be yours forever.”

Your words trigger something in him, that same fear that made him distant towards you. He doesn’t move from his spot, paralyzed by the decision.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” came his equally desperate reply. “I can’t lose you too.”

“We’ll find a way. You always do.”

The Doctor sags against you, resting his forehead against yours once more. Cries of his own shake him, his tears joining yours on the TARDIS floor. You take it upon yourself to mirror his actions; your hands gently holding his face. His once bright, crystal green eyes were now blurred with tears, encased by swollen, flushed eyelids.

“I love you.”

A barely audible whisper, one meant for you. Said with such raw intensity that it echoes in your ear, seared in your mind forever.

The Doctor clears his throat, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I love you. Stars above, I love you.” He speaks louder, not wanting you to miss a word. “I’ve loved you for years and I was too much of a coward to tell you. I’ll make it up to you, show you how much I’ve wanted you, if you let me.”

A smile stretched across your face. Pure euphoria filled your body, buzzing with a high that made you lightheaded. You feeled the charged energy between you two. The Doctor stills, anxiously awaiting for your response.

“I’m yours,” you say in the shared space between you. A declaration, waiting for the final seal. “I love you, Doctor.”

The Doctor slants against you, finally removing the last inch of space between you. His kiss falls over you like the whispered confession he had given you. His lips mold against yours, slow and lingering. One kiss, then another. You grasp onto him, your hand threading into his hair, another along his jacket. His hands no longer tremble. You feel his palms leave your face and travel down to the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

When you pull away to breath, he wastes no time burying his face against your neck, peppering the heated skin with kiss after kiss. He finds the spot where your pulse meets your jaw, sucking on the skin harshly, making you shudder. The Doctor overwhelms your senses; his touch, his scent, the taste of his mouth—

The Doctor gives one final kiss against your lips, before releasing you. He watches you catch your breath, seeing your relieved smile stretching across your face. He feels his face mirroring that same delirious smile.

I’m yours, his two hearts sing. I’m yours forever.

#eleventh doctor request #eleventh doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #doctor who #bbc doctor who #11th doctor x you #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor angst #11th doctor angst

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abibliophobiaa · 8 months

Text

Epilogue: Golden, Like Daylight

summary: everything falls into place (4.2k)

warnings: mention of birth, allusions to sex.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist || previous chapter

——

Elena Munson was born on June twenty-eighth, on what would be one of the warmest days the month had seen so far. Fitting, for a little girl who brought the sun along with her, filling the bustling hospital room with overwhelming love and light as she was lowered against her mother’s chest.

It was a swift labor, but he cheered you on and held your hand throughout the whole thing (only groaning when you nearly broke one finger), and Eddie Munson had decided he’d never seen anything more incredible than watching the woman he loved bring his daughter — his daughter — into the world. Kissed your sweat-slicked forehead as his hand raised to cradle the tiny, wailing body against you, both your tear-streaked faces upturned with the widest of smiles.

Eddie was certain the two of you cried more than your new daughter, his body crowded over yours, the two of you tangled up on that narrow hospital bed, peering down at the face both of you had dreamed of for months. Pouty lips, those perfect little cheeks, a curly head of hair that impressed the doctor, and ten tiny fingers and ten little toes.

Perfect, by every standard. In every single way. Completely and wholly yours, knitted together in love.

And later, after the nurses had cleaned the baby and done their routine checks and you were allotted time to enjoy the joy of being a family, both of you watched Elena take in the world with new eyes. Merely looked on at her in awe, neither of you wanting to let a moment pass by lest you miss anything. Concentrated wholly on her little wrinkly forehead, the furrow of her brow, fingers resting against her father’s clavicle from where she rested in the crook of his elbow.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you asked, marveling at the beautiful human you carried within for nine months.

“Her mother is beautiful, I’m not surprised,” he teased, rocking Elena when she mewled a bit. “Thank you.”

For loving him. For giving him this moment.

“We did it,” you told him. “She’s finally here.”

He leaned down then, kissing her brow, those mystified eyes of her’s closing. “I love you so much,” he told her, the first of the promised many to come. You snuggled in closer, body still sore and tired from exertion, head resting on the other side of his chest. Then he leaned down, lips soft against yours, grinning into your skin, both of you still on cloud nine. Whispered, “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your thumb reached over to brush over the curve of Elena’s cheek, her head stirring, but not waking her from her slumber. “We are the luckiest girls in the world. Aren’t we, Elena?”

——

Welcoming a new baby into the home was an adjustment, to say the least. Your nights had definitely changed, both of you quickly growing accustomed to a lack of sleep with a crying newborn keeping you up all night. But Eddie helped out as much as he possibly could, feeding the baby to allow you extra sleep, changing diapers, and he always was excited to do it.

Seeing him become a father made you love him more, if that were even possible. He doted on his little girl all hours of the day, singing to her, talking to her, simply looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever stumbled upon. And she loved him back, always wide-eyed and cooing at him once she was old enough to do so.

Soon enough, you’d fallen into a routine. He worked during the day while you stayed with the baby, and when he got home you spent time together as a family. Often just laying on your bed like you were right now, staring down at your daughter as she kicked her feet and waved her hands in the air, oblivious to just how loved she was.

“I want another one,” Eddie mused to himself, blowing a raspberry on Elena’s chubby cheek, ringed fingers splayed over her abdomen, giving her a tiny wiggle. At your horrified expression, he added with a laugh, “Not right now. I just…didn’t think I’d love being a dad so much.”

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say when you didn’t have to push her out of your body two months ago. But Eddie, you’re doing a great job. Really.”

Those first days and weeks had been trying. Eddie often felt helpless initially when Elena would wake, screaming bloody murder, unable to do much since she really needed you. And though that was true to an extent because of obvious reasons, he’d gone above and beyond in other ways, if only to make sure your burden was lessened. Cleaning around the house, cooking for the two of you, making sure you could get in a shower and nap when needed.

You knew that insecurity was brought on by years of neglect due to his father, but Eddie would never follow in that man’s footsteps. His heart was too big, his love too deep for his family. Eddie had taken to fatherhood in stride and an eagerness to make sure Elena knew he’d move the mountains for her every single day.

“I’ll think about it,” you mused, leaning down to give Elena another kiss. “I think I wanna steal your last name first, though.”

It was a newer development. Talks about marriage. He’d brought it up a few days after Elena had been born, wanting to ease you into the idea of forever, to see if it would be on the table. And you’d surprised yourself with an immediate ‘yes,’ fully believing that all that you’d gone through was meant to bring you to where you were now, with this man.

He proved to you every day that your initial fears were for naught, trust for the love he bore you running deep, his soul a security you’d never known before.

Eddie rolled onto his side, head propped up against his palm, elbow rumpling the comforter near Elena’s hip. “Yeah?”

You nodded, rolling onto your side, nose pressing into Elena’s cheek, grinning as her gummy mouth turned to seek you out. “I am the only non-Munson in this bedroom.”

“You’re a Munson. You know that,” he said, leaning over to kiss your furrowed brow, “but one day soon…officially.”

“Soon, huh?” Your nose grazed his cheek, lips barely touching his, relishing in his contented hum.

“Can’t be giving away all my secrets now,” he whispered, nosing along your jaw, mouth dancing at your pulse point. “I want it to be a surprise.”

——

That surprise came a week before Eddie was set to leave on tour. Months had flashed before your eyes, your newborn suddenly six months old and more vibrant than ever. Constantly smiling and babbling. Your home was filled with laughter — yours, her’s and her father’s, the two of them the brightest lights in your life.

That same father stood in the kitchen, bobbing his head to a song as Elena sat in her baby chair, blinking up at the fan circling up above. It was her newest fascination — watching the blades spin around and around and around, like it was the most entertaining thing on earth.

“Eddie, I just finished washing the rest of your clothes. They’re just out to hang dry on the line now,” you told him, slipping your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. Could feel his heat through your sweater, sighed into it. “What if I just hold onto you so you can’t get onto the tour bus? Cling to your ankles?”

Eddie turned off the sink, wiped his hands on a towel, and spun around. Shifted you so now his arms curled around your waist, sliding beneath the fabric of your sweater, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. You’d never tire of him in this way; his hands on your body, his form against yours, his lips, times — though understandably less frequent now — when he’d have you under him or over him in whatever way you’d liked, crying his name like a song.

“We’re going to miss you.” You pouted, pressing your ear to his sternum.

“You’re going to be at the first few shows,” he murmured against the top of your head, swaying you back and forth, “but I’m going to miss you both more. You better take pictures every day. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Every day, I promise.” Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A tiny little box nestled in Elena’s fist, hand waving it back and forth in front of her face. “Hey baby girl, what do you have? Can Mommy see?”

Legs kicked, kicked, kicked in her cozy little sleeper, her happy cooing sounds growing louder the closer you got. And then you dropped down onto the floor, leaning over to give her a giant smooch on the cheek, prying those pinchy fingertips from around the box, and replaced it with a rattle toy so she didn’t end up bawling.

Once Elena was satisfied, you lowered yourself down onto your bottom, thumb brushing over the velvet material. Eddie’s voice was warm behind you, “Open it, Buttercup.”

“Eddie…”

“Told you I couldn’t tell you all my secrets.”

Too stunned to do much of anything, much less speak, Eddie joined you on the ground, hand curling around Elena’s foot as she continued to huff and kick, the only sounds in your home her rattle and the clanging of your heart in your chest. Eddie took it upon himself to take the box from you, flipping the lid open to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Your hands cupped your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out a sob.

“A little over a year ago I fell in love with a woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. You quickly became everything to me, even when you didn’t know it. There is no doubt in my mind that I wa —”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks now, Elena’s rattle growing louder with the fury of her movements.

“I didn’t finish,” Eddie laughed, grabbing your left hand in his, plucking the ring out of the box. It hovered over your finger for a moment as he continued, “You are my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. And I’d be a really lucky guy if you’d become my wife too.”

Your reply was a nodded cry of ‘yes’ and he pushed the ring up onto your finger, sliding it flush against the knuckle. It was a perfect fit. Arms circled his neck as you practically leaped onto his lap, giggling as his arms wound right around your waist and tugged you flush against him, lips sliding over yours.

Elena, seemingly unhappy with not being the main focus of all her parent’s attention, tossed the rattle onto the ground and cried. Pouty bottom lip wobbling as tears spilled down plush cheeks, her father was there to the rescue as you shifted off him to unbuckle her and pull the baby onto his lap, bouncing her until she giggled again.

“Someone was a little jealous,” you teased her, poking at her belly, “he was mine first, little missy, so you’re going to have to get used to sharing.”

He was yours. And you were his. From that very moment on Halloween, even if you hadn’t known it back then.

Eddie pretended to chomp on her baby cheeks, earning a loud, bursting round of giggles from his daughter. “Your mommy said she’d marry me. How does that sound, Elena?”

She shoved her fingers into her gummy mouth.

“I guess she’s happy,” you laughed, lifting her up onto your hip, clambering onto your feet. You held aloft your left hand, wiggling the glittering diamond as Eddie appeared at your side with a hand at your waist. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”

——

After a conversation later that night spent tangled in bedsheets, you quickly realized neither of you wanted to wait to get married. In a spur of the moment decision, you’d suggested a trip to get a marriage license that next morning, and that same day you were given the green light to go ahead with your nuptials at the local courthouse.

In the end, it had been a private affair just a few days later. Wayne was there as a witness, standing with your daughter in his arms as you and Eddie recited vows to one another. Made promises to uphold for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health, until death did you part. You cried as Eddie breathed life into those words, as he declared those promises, and he silently cried as you echoed them back, sliding a simple gold band onto his ring finger.

Mr. and Mrs. Munson.

Later, you arrived at home to find all your closest friends packed within, there to celebrate the newly wedded couple. Chrissy, finally showing with her second baby, had gone all out and decorated as much as she could, and Robin directed the flow of traffic to the food buffet table.

Everyone took turns toasting to the Munson’s, reminiscing on memories they had about the two of you, both alone and together, and celebrating love. The room was full of it. All glowing faces under candlelight, friends and family alike enjoying the closeness and community.

Every so often you snuck glances over at your new husband, bent in conversation with one of his bandmates, his fingers wiggling in a wave your way.

Husband. It sounded so crazy to think after all this time that was what he was. You’d chosen one another now and forever. Decided that you were going to nurture and grow this relationship for the rest of your lives.

Your family.

That night, after your guests left and Steve and Chrissy took Elena for the evening, Eddie loved you gently in the dim light of your bedroom. Tenderly. Fingers curled with yours against your pillow, the room filled with soft sighs and rolling hips seeking the pinnacle of pleasure. He kissed you slowly, held you tightly as you shattered around him, tucked you away from the rest of the world. Whispered he loved you, punctuated kisses against your face and shoulders with sweet nothings.

Head nuzzling your neck as you both drifted back to earth, he asked, “How does it feel finally being Mrs. Munson?”

Right.

It felt right.

——

Two and a half years later…

——

The stage was bathed in dark shades of maroon and red, the anticipation on eager faces awaiting the last song of a sold out concert a ripple that rose with every passing second. Hands reached out to touch him and his bandmates, a sea of screaming fans huddled before him, and yet his heart only searched out one face. Fingers pressed against strings, the feeling familiar, so practiced, a part of him just as simple as breathing.

A spotlight drifted toward center stage, illuminating his bandmates. His friends. His family. Jeff passed him a knowing smile, Gareth grinned devilishly, and Murphy nodded his head. He’d never be here, standing on this stage, in a crowd of tens of thousands were it not for them — for the years of blood, sweat, and tears. The sacrifices made.

And then, as the room rose in volume, cheering grew louder and louder, Eddie’s eyes drifted off toward the side of the stage. Found you there, his wife, the love of his life, glowing with your support of him as always, lips tugged into the proudest of grins. You were beautiful, wearing his Corroded Coffin band logo across your chest, with a floral skirt fluttering with your every movement falling against your thighs.

In your arms, against your hip, you bounced his newest little. Benjamin Munson, nearly four months old now, with a giant pair of headphones atop his curly head of hair. You swayed him back and forth, one hand curled around his tiny fist like you were dancing, the baby’s eyes transfixed on the stage.

To your right, playing furious air guitar, head banging in all her curly headed glory with a matching pair of headphones to her baby brother, stood his now three-year-old, Elena. His first baby, the one who made him a father, the second love of his life, one of the pieces of his heart. You reached down to brush your fingers over her head, Elena’s head tipping upward just enough, eyes twinkling and dimples that mirrored Eddie’s as she looked across the stage and saw her father standing there with a broad smile on his face.

She smiled back in wonder, always so full of love. He never understood it — how much he could love someone who was a part of him, someone who he’d had a hand in creating, how much they could love him back. How his daughter looked to him like he was her whole world, her hero. But he lived every day trying to be worthy of it, knowing he was.

The first notes of his guitar rang out onto the stage, head bowing, eyes closed. He pictured your smiling face, sitting there in that darkened bar on Halloween. Could see you, just as the crowd roared to life, pulling out a stool and joining him at that table. It was easy to do so, being back in the city where he first fell in love with you tonight. You’d smiled at him, and it had been all over for him, from that very moment.

It was that same smile he saw when his head lifted and he looked your way once more, your beaming face, love and support grounding him in this moment, doing the thing he loved most with the people he loved most.

And as the final note rang out, clear and true into the magnetic energy of the crowd, surrounded by all the people he loved, his dreams now his real life — he knew he’d do it all over again, if only to end up right here in this moment.

Infinite.

——

You left the concert with the promise that Eddie would meet you and the kids back at the hotel once he’d signed endless autographs and merchandise to make his hands hurt. By the time he slipped into the hotel room, you were propped up beside Elena in bed, her eyes locked on whatever cartoon you managed to find on the television.

Ben rested in the crook of your arms, hand against your chest, freshly fed and looking like he’d fall asleep at any moment. Eddie always pleaded with him to stay up so he could wish him goodnight. Not that the baby understood, merely blinking at his goofy dad in reply.

You watched a smile stretch across your husband’s features when he noted the long lashes that fluttered against the tiny face that was shaped so much like his fathers, you’d jokingly cried, “Figures I do all the work and you look like your dad” in the hospital the day he was born as they’d laid him in your arms.

While Ben was serene and serious faced most of the time, Elena was still your giggly and boisterous little girl. Eddie’s twin in every way personality wise, though her features screamed you.

Said little girl hopped up onto the bed despite you telling her she shouldn’t be jumping on it. Ben stirred in your arms as Eddie dropped his things at the door and held his arms up like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, growling, “Daddysaurus is hungry and demands kisses.”

A routine. This had become a routine for them the past few weeks after Elena decided she loved everything dinosaur related. Eddie, wanting to encourage her desires wherever they lay, bought her countless dinosaur toys, books and stuffed animals to engage her curious mind. And then “Daddysaurus” became a thing and you were sure your daughter loved her father even more because of it.

Your big, lovable dork of a husband leaned down and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s middle, flipping her up onto his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the hotel room. Elena squealed in her excitement, hair spilling across his shoulders as she dangled upside down, his fingers wiggling at her sides.

Once properly tickled, he dropped her down onto his hip and kissed her cheek, beaming as her little hand settled against his chest and her head leaned onto his shoulder. “Miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m here now,” he reassured her, “it’s your bedtime though. How about you go potty and we’ll come help you get ready for bed, okay?”

“Do I hav’ta?” she whined, fingers twined in his curls, pouting when you nodded. God, your heart swelled every time she did that. “Benny sleeps too?”

“Yeah, baby, Ben is going to sleep too,” Eddie told her, lowering her down onto the bed.

Elena, still having no perception of how chaotic she could often be, jumped down to the ground and stirred Ben from the half-slumber he’d found himself in, before running off into the bathroom and slamming the door a little too loudly.

Chuckling, you handed Benjamin to Eddie, “You were amazing tonight. As usual.”

He grinned, arms coming up to cradle the baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth to soothe. “Helps that I had my biggest fans in the crowd. Hottest one, too. Wanted to flip her skirt up after the show in the green room.” He added that with a wink.

“Not while the kids are around,” you hissed, but heat still burned low in your belly all the same, craving the next time you’d be able to have some alone time. Luckily that would be tomorrow, when Micah and Jeremiah took them for a few hours so you could explore the city you’d fallen in love in years ago. “He did really well for his first concert.”

Eddie tugged the baby closer, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is that right, Benny Boy? Just wait — in a year or so I’ll teach you how to play too. Just like your sister. We can start our own band.”

“Don’t tell the guys that they’re getting replaced,” you laughed, palm curling up and over his broad shoulder as he settled down beside you on the bed. Cuddled up to his side and staring down at your sweet baby boy, you added, “Robin and Vickie called. Chrissy and Steve had another girl.”

“Poor guy is in trouble. Three girls.” Eddie whistled, running his index finger along Ben’s slackened bottom lip, little sighs falling from the baby.

“Heard from my publisher too. We finally solidified the release date on my next book.”

He leaned over and kissed you, forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

All your dreams were coming true — together.

Every day you loved him a little more than the one that came before.

You had your two beautiful babies.

Your family.

Your friends.

Life was good.

“How about you put him down for the night and I go check on our girl?” you asked, just as Ben finally slackened in his father’s arms, lost to the waking world.

Eddie nodded, happy to do so, whispering sweet words to his littlest love as you made your way over to the bathroom, peeking in to find Elena already finishing up pulling on her pajamas. “Look at you. Such a big girl. How about we go lay down and get ready for a bedtime story? I bet if you ask Daddy real nice he’ll tell you a good one.”

A tiny fist came up to rub at adorable doe-eyes as you carried your daughter back to the bedroom, finding Eddie sprawled out on the bed, the comforter drawn back to make room for the two of you to scramble on in.

Elena, naturally, untangled herself from you and rushed past in her hurry to plaster herself to her father like a starfish. Limbs all sprawled across his form, trying to be as close as possible. His hand slid up and over her back, locking her against his chest. After brushing a final kiss to Ben’s forehead and wrapping him within a blanket from where he lay in his portable crib, you tucked against Eddie’s opposite side, head over where his heart thumped steadily within.

“Missed my favorite girls,” Eddie said, kissing the tops of both your heads.

Your fingers stretched across his chest to tangle with Elena’s, giving her a little squeeze as she sleepily asked, “Story now?”

His laugh rumbled beneath your ear. “Yeah, what kind of story tonight? The one about the bears maybe — or the one about Mr. Turtle?”

“New one please?” She shrugged, nuzzling further into Eddie’s chest.

“How about I tell you the story about the day your Mommy and Daddy met?”

Her eyes sparkled in the darkened hotel room, head rising and falling rapidly.

“Once upon a time, there was a giant Halloween party in a beautiful…uh, castle. A traveling minstrel — which is a fancy word for a musician — looked across the room and spotted the most beautiful princess in all the land…”

He told her the story of Halloween.

He told her the story of where it all began.

He told her the story of your love.

——

well, this is the end. thank you so so much everyone for all of your lovely comments every week, all of our conversations and just generally thank you for loving this story as much as i have. cannot wait to share the next eddie stories i have planned with you all. and please please — if you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know. it means the world to content creators, and i love getting to chat with you all. until next time, xoxo - luna. 🩷🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

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00ops1e · 11 months

Text

taskforce 141 + könig x sick! reader

warnings: emetophobia trigger warning, mentions of puking/being sick, fluff, hurt/comfort maybe??, not proofread a/n: omg here it is. the first cod thing ive written! but not actually theres some filth hiding in my documents. this is totally lowkey a self insert. geared towards female! reader but if you squint at the petnames could be gn. i've been so so sick lately and tbh scares me a lil but what cant be fixed by fictional men?? nothing.

Ghost

A little bit of a germaphobe

Will take off his mask, but replace it with a medical mask

Only so he can still hold you, just with a peace of mind

He does NOT want to get sick too

Because then how could he take care of you?

Always has a puke bowl at the ready

Orders your favorite takeout, even if you don’t feel like eating

Because hes a firm believer in leftovers.

Which may just be the cause of this

But you'd never tell him. poor man would get so guilty he had forgotten to throw it away.

Puts on a movie and lets you fall asleep on his chest

I feel like he’s a cold-blooded type of person, doesn’t generate much heat

but makes up for it in comfort

so many blankets

so so many.

Checks your temperature in your sleep

Lowkey counts respirations just to be sure

Makes sure you keep hydrated

Will bring you to urgent care if he’s really worried

No matter how much you protest!

Soap

Squeamish when it comes to throwing up

Will try his very best to stay with you, but sometimes ends up running from the room

Because the last thing he'd wanna do is gag at you

While hes ran away he gets a cold rag to press on your forehead, and clean you up a bit in the process

"yer hidin? awh bonnie i wasnt meanin' to embarrass ye" he says while taking your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes

"sickness and health yeah? i wanna take care of you"

Insists on rubbing vicks/ vaporub on you

Not because hes a little perv (he is)

But because he loves you and the sniffles break his little heart

peppers kisses across your collarbones, vicks smell clogging his nose

but he’s too focused on the goosebumps that rise on your skin, your little shivers

“Awh, my poor sick lass,”

Constantly checking for a fever

Forcing you to stay in bed, even after you feel better, “not takin chances, rest up.”

this man on the other hand is a human space heater

throwing a blanket on and off the two of you, getting too hot and then shortly after too cold.

not as convenient when it’s hot out lol

head rubs

Gaz

Tries to bring you to a doctor/ urgent care immediatley

Will try to call an ambulance over a slight fever

Stocks up on pedialyte/makes sure youre hydrated

Cuddles constantly, does not care if he catches anything

loves being the big spoon so he can lay in the crook of your neck and still hold onto you tight

Has extra blankets on deck

entertains you with silly little jokes

but then apologizes while giggling because you laughed so hard it hurt a little.

Will feed you cold medicine/tums

teases you when you complain about taking them

“i don’t need you gettin any grumpier love”

Will hold back your hair/ stroke your back while youre getting sick

gets offended when you get embarrassed about it

“are you judging my girl?” he teases you

Tries his best to cook, but lowkey fails miserably

Resorts to cup of noodles and lipton packets.

Price

Such dad vibes

Will make soup or other comfort foods from scratch

And his cooking skills are unmatched

Runs you a shower/bath and washes your hair for you

back rubs and massages

pressing small kisses to your shoulders as he works

also a human heater but not too hot, just the perfect temperature

also just the perfect shape to spoon you, cradling every inch of your body

“I hate it when my baby’s sick,” he says, rubbing soft circles into your side

Doesnt even have to make a pharmacy run because hes so well prepared

Feeds you medicine, on the dot, every few hours after it wears off

(he totally sets reminders in his phone. [typing like an old person with reading glasses on])

Will stay in bed all day with you, quietly typing and mumbling to himself while you nap at his side

occasionally leaning down to kiss your forehead while he works

the computer goes away as soon as you wake up

"how're you feeling princess?"

loves having you in his arms, pulled close to his chest

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch (bridal style ofc)

Will hold your hair back, refuses to leave your side

“Of course youre not gross darling, we all get sick,”

Konig

rubs your back as you're hunched over the toilet

will sit down with you on the floor, back up against the bathtub when its too much of a risk to leave the bathroom

just wants to keep you company :(

"take as long as you need, liebling"

fills up the tub while still convincing you to get in

he promises you'll feel better after

caves and offers to join you as a last resort to get you cleaned up

Long baths, cuddling in the warm water

Letting the steam clear your sinus

Brushes and braids your hair

when you start feeling better but are still running a fever, hes worried.

but youre dealing with a burst of energy and simply must start with the housework

konig will put you over his shoulder and escort you back to bed

will paint your nails in bed to entertain you, anything to keep you still and in bed

Lets you put your cold feet on him, but only when you dont feel good

totally unprepared because i feel like this man has an immune system of steel

makes a quick pharmacy run, but has to call you for the shopping list bc oops he forgot

depending on how sick you are, lets you come along for the ride

“promise you’ll stay in the car ja?”

always returns with a sweet little treat or small gift/toy for you

“gesundheit!” as he chuckles at your sneeze

jokes that maybe he should put a mask on you

731 notes · View notes

writing-till-i-am-dead · 3 months

Text

Tylo Oneshot

“We’re gonna let you guys hang out in pairs,” said one of the doctors to Tyler. “To let you guys check on each other and all that.”

Tyler scoffed. “How generous of you..” he hissed sarcastically.

The doctor didn’t bother with a response and left the room, leaving Tyler on his own again. He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Please bring me Taylor.. I need to know if she’s ok.. please, please…

The door creaked open and Tyler jolted up to see his sister. Only.. it wasn’t her.

“Tyler!” Logan cried out, halfway to tears.

“Logan!” He exclaimed in surprise before glaring at the doctor. “No! Bring me my sister!!!”

“Ms. Hernandez is currently with Ms. Banner. Complaining will get you nowhere.” The doctor closed the door and Tyler slammed his fist into the wall. “Damnit!”

Logan gave him a look of embarrassment and shame. “I’m.. sorry..”

Tyler looked up at him and suddenly felt guilty. “No, no.. it’s not you, Logan. I just.. Taylor-“

“Is your sister. I understand..” Logan tried to force a smile. He really didn’t understand. He was an only child and was never really close to one specific person..

Tyler sat on the bed and buried his face into his hands. “This place is driving me nuts..”

Logan hesitated before eventually sitting next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well.. look on the bright side! At least now neither of us are alone!”

Tyler looked up and couldn’t help but feel a little lighter upon seeing Logan’s smile, even if it was a forced one.

Logan was one of the few people he couldn’t really bring himself to be annoyed with. He’s too nice and the idea of yelling at him felt like it would be the equivalent to kicking a puppy (unlike with Aiden who feels like a mosquito he needs to bash into a wall).

“Thanks, Logan..” he said with a sigh before lying back. “So what should we do? Not many forms of entertainment here other than the tv. And they’ve only, got, like, 3 channels. The news, Disney Junior, and The History Channel. Unless you wanna watch Ancient Aliens?”

Logan wrinkled his nose at the mention of Ancient Aliens. “Unless you wanna see me pop a blood vessel, I recommend turning on anything but that.”

Tyler was surprised by the almost passive aggressiveness on Logan’s voice. He let out a soft air of amusement and set the remote down. “Fair enough, astrology nerd.”

“Ugh, I study astronomy, not that fake, wishy-washy stuff that only exists to give boring people personalities.”

Tyler barked out a laugh. “Dang, ok! Wasn’t expecting that! Yknow, Taylor believes in astrology. Listens to horoscope podcasts and everything.”

Logan let out a dejected sigh. “Don’t remind me. She once asked for my star sign so she could check my compatibility with everyone in the group. If it was literally anyone else asking me for that, I would’ve stomped off right then and there. But Taylor’s nice to me, so I just gave in..”

“You have a lot more bite to you than I first thought.. guess I don’t hang out with you as much as I should..”

Logan smiled softly at that. “Aha.. ya, well.. I’m not too fun to hang out with on my own.. but.. maybe..”

The two sit there for a moment, Tyler tapping on his wall dejectedly, wishing he could see his sister..

“I’m sorry..” Logan says under his breath.

“Huh?” Tyler looked over at him. “For what?”

“Me being the reason you can’t see your sister..”

Tyler sucked in air through his teeth and looked down, ashamed. “Look, Logan, really, I’m not upset they brought you in instead-“

“But it really is my fault.”

“Huh? Whaddya mean?”

“I.. asked them if they could bring me to see you..” he admitted quietly.

Tyler stared at him, processing his words. All he managed to say was “Huh?”

“I.. I wanted to see you.. because.. this.. this whole thing is terrifying!” There was a pause, all could be heard was the ticking of the clock. “And you.. you’re so confident all the time. For some reason your aggression, even in stressful circumstances, it’s oddly.. comforting? Like, at least there’s one person there who is expressing that they’re feeling anything but fear, yknow??”

Tyler still couldn’t find words. No one had ever described his aggression as comforting. Annoying, yes. A problem, he’s heard that hundreds of times. But comforting? That was new.

“You..” he finally managed to choke out. “Are weird.”

Shiiiiit.

Now he wishes he stayed at a loss for words because the absolute look of embarrassment on Logan’s face made him immediately regret his words.

I KICKED THE PUPPY! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I KICKED THE DAMN PUPPY!

“But that’s not bad!” He quickly said. “Whatever helps, yknow!”

Logan smiled weakly and forced out a laugh. “Ya.. ya..”

“Logan..” Tyler tried again, reaching out hesitantly before stopping himself. “I really didn’t mean it that way..” he said gruffly, really trying to keep the awkwardness out of his voice, but he ended up just sounding stiff. “You’re.. I.. you’re nice, Logan.”

“Hah.. ya.. nice..”

I’m so bad at damage control, ugh!!

“Logan!” Tyler barked. Logan jumped in surprise and turned to him.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” he said bluntly. “But I don’t mean it in the way Barron would.. I.. mean it in a good way, all right?”

Logan must’ve realized Tyler meant it, because he smiled a real smile. A smile of thankfulness and appreciation.

“That.. really does mean a lot..” Logan said, nervously rubbing his arms.

The two looked at each other and Logan felt desperation creep into his soul. This entire situation has been terrifying, being kidnapped, separated from his friends, and learning he’s going to turn into a phantom. He had to say it. He had to! He couldn’t possibly die without saying it right here and now! He was not going to be a coward!!

“I like you, Tyler,” Logan said.

Tyler’s eyes widened. “What..?”

“The way you play baseball and have manage to be cool about everything you do and your sense of justice and the way you care about the people you love, like Taylor.. I like all of that about you!”

Right when Tyler thought Logan couldn’t surprise him anymore. “L..Logan..!”

But before he could even figure out what to say, the door opened. “We’ll be taking Mr. Fields back to his room.”

Tyler looked up, his eyes still wide. “Huh..?”

Logan stood up and waved at Tyler. “See ya, Ty..” he said with a smile. Logan felt really proud of himself.

“W-wait.. hey, Logan!”

But the door shut and Logan let out a sigh. With each step, he remembered little things. Like when he went to a baseball game to practice his photography and he first ever saw Tyler and how cool he thought he was.. Like when Tyler stood up to Barron for Logan… Like how Tyler said he liked that Logan was weird..

By the time Logan reached his room and the door closed, he realized what he did. It really hit him like a school bus.

“AHHHH! Did I really just do that?!?” He grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. “NOW I REALLY HOPE I BECOME A PHANTOM!”

#school bus graveyard #tyler hernandez #logan fields #Sbg #tylo #tylo sbg #sbg oneshot #Oneshot #Fanfic #shipping #Tyler sbg #logan sbg

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merrybloomwrites · 28 days

Text

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 9- FINAL CHAPTER)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Y/N spend some time apart before reuniting just in time for Y/N's next heat.

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

Word count: 3.6K

CW: smut, knotting, p in v sex, heat cycle

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plans for your time in Palm Springs are greatly altered due to your unexpected heat. Instead of hanging out with Harry’s friends, you’d been stuck inside a bedroom for over a day riding out the waves of your heat. And now that it’s over, you still don’t want to leave the house.

The day after your heat ended and Harry had joined you at the house again, you had constructed a nest. And now you want to stay wrapped in its safe walls with your alpha. It’s common for omegas to withdraw in the days after a heat, needing comfort and reassurances from their alpha. Harry is more than happy to provide, though you feel bad about keeping him locked up in the house with you. Each time you mention this he simply says, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He does encourage you to get fresh air, so you take some time to sit outside on the deck, soaking up the sun. It’s just warm enough in southern California that you’re comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt, which does brighten your mood.

But most of the time is still spent inside. The world seems too big at the moment, there are too many people, too many dangers. In your nest there’s nothing but warmth, and safety, and the ever-comforting scent of Harry.

He flies with you back to New Jersey and you're grateful. While you’re feeling better after a couple days of cuddling with Harry, an airport full of strangers would be a bit too much at the moment. He’s able to stay with you for two nights before he needs to leave and start getting everything ready for the next leg of tour. Before he leaves you build another nest in your home and he once again showers you with compliments about how lovely it is. You’re sad when you have to say goodbye, but he’s taken such good care of you that your omega is recovered by the time he’s gone.

You have a visit with your doctor the following week and discuss the heat you’d experienced. Luckily you don’t need to go into detail, just letting her know when it started and how long it lasted.

“That was a bit earlier than I’d estimated,” she says. “I was expecting the end of February. Is there anything that may have triggered it?”

You blush a deep red and reply, “I had just been knotted for the first time that morning.”

She gives you a reassuring smile and says, “That could definitely be the reason. I do have to ask, was this something you wanted or did the alpha force himself in any way?”

“Oh nothing like that! It was with my alpha, completely consensual. I was the one to bring it up.”

“Okay good. Well in that case, everything looks great. You should expect your next heat to be maybe mid-April or early May. This will be a full heat, so it’ll be longer and more intense than the other.”

“Right,” you reply, a tremor of nerves in your voice.

“There are some things we can do and prepare to make it easier if you’ll be solo during it.”

She hands you a pamphlet with some helpful tips and you sit quietly for a moment. Finally, you say, “I’m thinking of asking my alpha to spend it with me.”

“That sounds like a good plan, as long as that’s what you want. Make sure to talk about everything ahead of time alright? What you do and don’t want, any rules he needs to follow and ways he can take care of you.” She hands another pamphlet and says, “Here are some tips on how to prepare for a heat with an alpha. Yes, we have a pamphlet for everything,” she finishes and you both laugh.

“You mentioned he travels a lot, is he nearby now?” The doctor inquires.

“No, he's traveling at the moment. I probably won’t see him until April.”

“Okay, you may experience some touch deprivation symptoms again since you’re separated after a heat. Hopefully not too bad but just keep doing what you did back in the fall.”

“Got it,” you reply.

You talk a little while longer and finally you’re on your way home. You’re not thrilled that the depri might come back. The chills, exhaustion and itchiness are never fun. But hopefully this will be the last long separation you have from Harry.

There’s a lot you need to talk to Harry about, like spending your heat with you, and what your ideas for the future are, but you want to do that in person so it will have to wait until April.

It’s another long few weeks without Harry. The days are cold, and at first you’re not sure if it’s the touch deprivation that has you chilled to the bone, or just the wind constantly whistling outside.

But when it gets harder and harder to get out of bed, and headaches become a near daily thing, you have to admit the depri is back.

Harry checks in with a phone call or FaceTime at least once a day, and sends texts whenever he has a free moment. You know that he’s always there for you, but your omega doesn’t understand this. The lack of touch, lack of pheromones, just overall physical lack of an alpha after having him so close sends your inner omega back into a depression.

One week before you’re set to reunite with Harry he calls you just like normal. But it’s been an awful day for you. A couple of your coworkers had recently quit, leaving you with an insane workload for the following days. The milk in your fridge had expired, leaving you without your normal tea and cereal for breakfast. It was finally a nice day out but the chill in your body remains. And your headache is worse than ever, and has you practically seeing double.

All in all, you're at your breaking point. You’ve been hiding how bad it is from Harry, not wanting to add more stress to him while he’s in the middle of a run of concerts. But just because you don’t say anything doesn’t mean Harry hasn’t picked up on how you’re feeling.

A couple minutes into the call Harry says, “Is everything alright, love?”

“Yea, everything is fine,” you lie.

“Darling, please tell me what’s happening. My alpha’s been on edge for days and I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

Suddenly there’s a feeling of guilt eating at you. It takes only a second to realize it’s your omega cowering at the fact you’ve upset your alpha. You have no choice but to explain the situation, so you tell him how you’ve been feeling.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you’re feeling badly again. I wish I was there to make it better,” he says once you’ve filled him in.

His kind words and gentle voice have tears springing to your eyes, but you quickly blink them back. Crying would only make the headache worse.

“It’s only a few more days, I’ll be okay,” you reply, annoyed at the shakiness in your voice.

The two of you talk a little longer and you’re truthfully feeling a bit better by the time you hang up. You spend the rest of the day working from your nest, the extra comfort helping as well.

That’s how you spend the next excruciatingly long week. When Harry finally knocks on your apartment door you open it immediately and slump into his outstretched arms. He somehow gets his bags inside, closes the door, and lifts you, carrying you to the couch.

He sits down and adjusts you so that you’re straddling his lap. Instincts lead you and you dive into his neck scenting him frantically.

“That’s it baby, I’m here. Take what you need, omega.” His words of encouragement help you settle, and soon you’re gently nosing along his scent gland. Once you have your fill you pull away, and Harry matches your shy smile with one of his own. He leans in next, kissing and licking along your neck to scent you in return.

Finally, you’re both satisfied and Harry moves to kiss your lips. You sigh against him, your entire being relieved now that you’re finally reunited with your alpha.

You spend a couple of quiet days together, Harry wanting to take it easy after weeks of touring on the other side of the world, and you recovering from the last of the touch deprivation symptoms. When you’re finally both feeling up to it, Harry makes reservations at a nice restaurant, wanting to take you on a date.

When you walk out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, Harry is standing there, looking absolutely stunning. You’re completely speechless looking at him, and he seems to be feeling the same as well.

He regains his senses first, walking closer to run his hands along your arms as he takes you in. “Darling, you look amazing,” he finally says.

You blush and reply, “Thank you. You look very dashing.” He smiles shyly at the compliment and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we be on our way?” he asks.

“We shall,” you reply, feeling happier and lighter than ever.

The date confirms what you’ve been thinking for a while now. Harry is a perfect gentleman throughout, and the comfort and familiarity you feel in his presence is unmatched. Conversation never halts, and you’re as happy to listen to him as he is to listen to you. It’s a lovely mixture of lighthearted topics, with a couple more serious discussions thrown in.

After the last bite of dessert is finished, and the bill is settled, the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. You walk back home, enjoying the mild spring weather, Harry’s arm wrapped gently around your waist.

There’s a shift once you get back to your apartment. Both of your scents deepen, lust swirling in the air.

“Alpha,” you breathe out, turning so your lips ghost against his.

“Yes, omega?” he replies.

“Take me to bed?”

“Anything for you,” he says before immediately making good on his word.

The next morning you wake up once more cuddled next to Harry. He’s still sleeping, and you take the time to reflect on the night before. You’d done a lot of talking, and it seems that many of his desires and life plans line up with yours. That plus the undeniable connection between his alpha and your omega confirms that the two of you are right for each other.

You know you need to ask him about your upcoming heat, knowing that it could start within the next couple of weeks. You’re mulling over how to bring it up when he wakes up beside you.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice gruff from sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully. Always do with you in my arms,” he answers.

He shifts so that he’s level with you and can press a kiss to your lips. You get lost in the moment, but there’s still so many thoughts swirling through your brain. Harry notices your hesitance and asks, “What’s wrong? What’s going on in your head, hm?”

You could lie and say it’s nothing, but he’s already opened the door for the conversation. After a moment to collect your thought, you state, “My heat should be starting soon. Maybe a week or so.”

He nods to show he’s listening, and you continue, “I was wondering if you’d want to spend it with me?”

“Baby I would love to. Is that what you want? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’m ready. And I would really prefer not to be alone. I want you with me.”

“Then I will be. I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll always take care of you, love.”

“Thank you,” you answer before bringing your lips to his again. It’s a sweet kiss, full of emotion and gratitude for this gentle and caring man.

Over the next week and a half, you and Harry plan for your first ever real heat. You look at the pamphlets, making sure to answer all the questions asked there, and filling in Harry on your preferences. You make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on foods you’ll both need. You blush when you see that Harry has also stocked up on condoms. While you both have said you want pups at some point, now is not the time.

One morning you wake up feeling extra clingy. You barely let Harry out of your sight. By early afternoon you’re turning on the air conditioning, claiming an early spring heat wave must’ve hit. Throughout dinner you’re itching with a desire to nest, which you begin to do the second you finish eating. It’s the first time you’re okay being away from Harry since you want to do this job on your own.

When it’s complete you find Harry as he’s finishing the dinner dishes. Without a word you take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

“Baby, it’s lovely,” he says when he sees the nest on the bed. “It’ll be perfect for your heat.”

“Do you think it’s coming soon?” you ask, looking for confirmation of what you’ve been questioning all afternoon.

“I do. Probably by morning, if your scent is anything to go by. How do you feel about it this time?”

“Still scared. But not as much as before. I don’t like that it’s going to be more intense and longer. But, you’re here so I think I’ll be okay.” You pause before correcting, “I know that I’ll be okay.”

“Yes, you will,” he says, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I promise to keep you safe, to take care of you however you need.”

“Can we take a shower?” you suddenly ask. Harry’s a little surprised by the ask, since you’d both already showered that day, but he agrees. He assumes that you want to make sure you’re both clean before entering the nest. It’s going to get dirty during your heat, but it’s important to start with a perfect nest to provide comfort.

After you’ve both washed you pull on boxers and an oversized t-shirt, the loose material the only thing that won’t irritate your sensitive skin. You climb into your nest, holding your hand to Harry in a silent invitation.

“Will you scent me?” you ask once he’s settled next to you.

“Of course, baby,” he replies before leaning in to fulfill your request. You fall asleep, wrapped in Harry’s arms and his delicious scent.

You don’t know what time you wake up, only that there’s no way you can fall back asleep even though it’s definitely still dark out. You’re burning hot, and there’s a feeling inside that you can’t describe. A desperate hunger, somehow mixing with a distinct emptiness. There’s a whining sound and it takes a moment for your fuzzy brain to realize it came from you.

The sound wakes Harry up, and he quickly springs into action.

“Hey baby, tell me what you need,” he says.

“Alpha. I need you alpha. Need your knot,” you reply. The little part of you that’s not fully under yet winces at how needy you sound, but soon Harry’s hands are on you and your mind goes quiet.

All you’re aware of is the feeling off his skin on yours. “Off, off,” you say repeatedly until Harry has removed your clothes as well as his.

“Please, alpha, I need you. Empty, so empty.”

“I’m here, omega. I’ve got you.”

You lay on your back, pulling your legs up towards your chest. It’s an exposed and vulnerable position, but one your inner omega knows will get you what you want. It works like a charm, and Harry wastes no time. His fingers reach you first and he growls at how much slick he finds.

Content with how wet and open you are, and moved by how intense your whimpers and begs are growing, he pulls on a condom and quickly lines up with your entrance. You sob in relief when he pushes inside, your hands moving to his back to hold him as close as possible.

As much as Harry normally goes slow with you, he knows that’s not what will help you. Maybe after a first knot he’ll be able to take his time, but right now he sets a quick pace in order to give you what you need.

Your voice reaches a higher pitch, alerting Harry to your impending orgasm. He moves a hand to your center, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. The feeling of your walls contracting is enough to have Harry coming as well, emptying into the condom as his knot expends inside of you.

You both catch your breath and Harry smooths your hair out of your face.

“How was that, omega? Are you alright?” He checks in with you.

“Good, alpha, so good,” you mumble out, a blissed smile on your face.

“Rest, baby. I’ll be here to take care of you.”

With that, you close your eyes, succumbing fully to the haze of heat as your alpha licks at your neck, surrounding you with his scent.

Your heat lasts four full days, and when you wake up on that final morning you don’t know how to feel. Traces of desire still linger, but nowhere near the level it was at before. You’re aware of your need to use the bathroom, and shower, and eat. Your first thought is that you’re relieved that it’s over. Your second thought is that it really was not a bad experience. At all. Having Harry there took something you were dreading and made it into something so special and enjoyable.

The heat haze makes it so you can’t really remember the experience, but you can remember the feelings. And what you felt was pure love and contentment. There’s no hollow loneliness like the last time. Instead, there’s fulfillment, a sense that all is right in your world.

Harry turns, his lips subconsciously finding yours as he begins to wake up. You melt into the kiss, but he must notice a shift from the last couple of days. He pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Hi, baby. You with me?” he asks.

“I’m here.”

“How do you feel? Are you alright?” You can tell he’s worried so you’re quick to reassure him.

“I feel wonderful. You were perfect, alpha.”

You see the relief written on his face before he pulls you in for another kiss.

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed making out with you, I feel gross. And hungry.”

That’s all you have to say before he springs into action. The two of you take a quick shower together just to rinse off before he makes breakfast with all of your favorites.

Both of you are still quite sore, so you decide to soak together in the bath. Once it’s filled Harry helps you in before sliding in place behind you. The hot water feels heavenly, and the bubbles give it a nice relaxing touch.

You’re both quiet for the first few minutes, lost in your own thoughts.

“I should probably call my doctor,” you say, suddenly breaking the silence. “See if I can get an appointment before we leave for tour.” You feel yourself getting excited. In just a couple of weeks you’ll be going with Harry to Europe for all of his shows there.

“That’s a good idea. What are you going to do? Get new prescriptions?”

It’s a good question. Back in the fall when your old medicines stopped working you were devastated. All you could think about was surviving the few months until you could get new ones that will work again.

But now it’s different. You have an alpha. You have Harry. And the answer becomes less clear.

After thinking for a minute, you realize you know exactly what you want and you say, “I don’t think I will. At least not like before. I might get a low dose of suppressants to make sure my heats have a regular schedule. And most suppressants also double as birth control. But I don’t want to completely hide my omega anymore. I did it out of necessity, because those meds were the only thing that kept me healthy without an alpha. But that’s different now. Right?”

“Yes, love. It’s completely different now. You have me. You always will. And if you don’t want to go back on such strong medication then I support your decision. I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

“Thank you alpha,” you say, and he replies, “Always.”

***

With Harry’s full support, you walk into your doctor’s appointment a week later with a plan. She also supports your decision to do a much lower dose of suppressants. By the time you reach Denmark for the first show, you feel better than ever before.

As you watch Harry on stage you know that you made the right decision. Sure, there are plenty of obstacles to overcome, but you’re confident that you can do anything with Harry by your side.

And when you hear him sing Fine Line live for the first time, you know that everything truly will be alright.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story! The main story is finished but I'm open to writing some extra oneshots so if you have requests let me know!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz@fictionalmensblog@buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging @jerseygirlinca@stylesfever@alwayslovingharry @daphnesutton @harrydeary

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction

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desert-fern · 8 months

Text

Ring Around My Rosie - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Nurse Reader (WWII European Theatre AU)

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: The year is 1944 and the Second World War rages on. You have been a nurse in Belgium for nearly three years, having seen the effects of the worst things human beings can do to one another. One day, like always, an injured man is brought in. An American sailor too far from the ocean he came out of on D-Day and you both are entranced.

Warnings: blood, bullet removal, mentions of Nazis (it is a WWII AU so…), probably inaccurate depictions of wartime nursing, most likely factually incorrect WWII history, fluff so fluffy I gave myself a cavity just writing this, 1940s Bradley Bradshaw (yes, he is a warning)

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: If you can’t guess, this oneshot is a WWII AU inspired by a cover of Ed Sheeran’s Nancy Mulligan that I have linked here! I’m 90% I fucked up my Spotify Wrapped for this fic so I hope you enjoy!

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Well, I met him at Guy's in the second world war

And I was working on a soldier's ward

The scent of blood was thick in your nostrils as you dragged yourself out of the field hospital in Les Annais, Belgium. The Germans had been menacing your location for weeks, baiting your troops and sending fractions limping back into your capable hands.

You knew nothing of the tactics being used, very few did. You were here as a nurse, not as a tactician, not as anyone of note, save for being the longest serving nurse at the 51st Field Hospital. The others had bailed out as soon as they could, doing their duty but the gruesome fighting months earlier at the Battle of the Bulge had sent many fleeing.

It wasn’t like you could blame them.

You were still new, having joined up as soon as you could convince your father and while you were a month shy of 23, you had never experienced anything like this. Your grandmother had told your father off, reminding him that it was his own stubborn streak that raced through you.

But you were unprepared for everything you would have to do out here, hundreds of kilometers away from home, with the least amount of training that they could spare. At the beginning, you could only offer comfort to some of these men, being unable to save them from their wounds, as they cried for their mothers, wives, children, begging for the pain to end.

Sometimes - well, most times - these men were boys your age or younger. Lives that had only just begun were snuffed out in the most violent of ways and you were left to piece together your shattered heart day after day.

So you closed yourself off, choosing to help as many as you could. The conditions were brutal, the wounds you saw even more so. A year and a half ago, you didn’t know how it felt to hold down a screaming man so a doctor could try and save a septic leg. You were a shoulder to cry on, a smiling face despite the bleakness, and more often than not, an object of flirtation and admiration.

The sky was a miserable gray, like it always was. It seemed like the sky was trying to match the color of the tents scattered around the outside of the main camp, doing its best to hide you from the prying eyes of the German aerial patrols.

The Luftwaffe were always around. Luckily for you, they couldn’t aim for shit, but you couldn’t deny that the German movements had been far more frequent. Sometimes a young man crawled through the borders surrendering to the English and American forces and begging for help.

No one else would treat him, refusing to even get close to him.

You had chastised them all, reminding them of their promises to help those in need, and slowly you had gained some help in the care of these young men, though they were few and far between.

Shouts caught your attention, sending you racing through the muddy field back to the hospital. A group of soldiers, Americans by the sound of them, were calling for help and you would be a hypocrite if you didn’t help.

Hurrying through the door ahead of them, you saw a small group, maybe seven or so men approach. They were muddy, beaten and bruised, but your eyes fell upon the man being held up by his compatriots. “What happened?” You asked, quickly replacing a red headed man and half-carried the brunette towards the only open bed in the corner.

“A bunch of Krauts caught us by surprise, caught Rooster here with a few shots and some ass- pardon me ma’am, idiot jumped out of a tree and landed on top of him,” the man explained, helping you lay this Rooster on the bed.

You focused on the brunette’s bloody uniform, eyeballing the few bullet wounds in his arms, but you were the most concerned about the broken leg. It only took one infected wound and that limb would be gone. Not today, you thought. “Dot, I need the suture kit and a basin. You,” you stated, standing up to face the man standing next to you.

“Mulligan, ma’am,” he told you, standing up straighter. “Lewis Mulligan, US Navy.”

“Lewis, can you help me hold him down? I can’t stitch him up and hold him down at the same time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dot hurried over with the makeshift kit, placing it on the bed along with a basin of water. Unbuttoning his shirt, you found that two of the three bullet wounds still had the bullet in them and that the third had begun to clot against his shirt. Pulling the scissors from the pants pocket of your uniform and cutting the shirt away, you finally had a better view at what you were working with. “Fucking Krauts. Guess they must be really desperate to keep using shitty ammunition,” you remarked dryly, dipping a set of tweezers in a basin of cheap spirits.

Lewis didn’t say a word, clearly stunned by your foul language. “Ma’am?”

Sighing, you turned to face him. “Lewis, I need your help holding him down. The longer this takes, the bigger the risk of infection. I can’t do that if you are going to be shocked when I cuss and swear. Can you help me or not?”

He nodded, coming to stand on the other side of the unconscious man. Hands placed on his friend’s shoulder and hip, Lewis gave you a nod and you began.

The bullets were soft and slippery. They slid out of your tweezers more times than you could count, but you made it work, finally prying the two out of his shoulder and side. Lewis wasn’t looking at you, his face green by the time the last bullet clinked into the porcelain tray. “I can take it from here, Mulligan. Go back to your group, tell them…”

“His name is Bradley.”

You gave him a smile. “Tell them Bradley should be okay unless he does something stupid.”

He left you alone, perched on the side of Bradley’s bed, stitching him up. You saw his eyelashes flutter as you finished the last stitch and quickly stood up. If he lunged at you, you had to be standing. Enough men had grabbed at you when they woke up and you had quickly learned not to make that mistake again.

Too many bruises, too many sprains, too many punches thrown.

To your surprise, Bradley let out a groan and his eyes slowly blinked open. That groan turned into a hiss of pain as he tried to sit up. “Stay down,” you said gently, approaching slowly with your hands up. “You’re in a field hospital in Belgium.”

His eyes flicked to you, taking in your bloody uniform and trailing over your face. “The others?” He said in a panicked voice. “Where are the others?”

“Lewis and the redhead are outside, they carried you here. Seven of you came up to us, that’s all I know Bradley.”

A nod. “Thank you Ma’am.” Relief was written all over his face, in the way his eyes fell closed for a moment and his shoulders dropped.

“I just finished stitching up your chest, but I need to look at your leg. Can I do that?”

“Anything for you doll,” Bradley replied with a wink as he tried to lay down. But he winced and you were there, your bloodstained hands firmly holding his shoulders and neck while you guided him back down.

Never had I seen such beauty before

The moment that I saw ya

You moved quickly to treat his leg, finding that thankfully it was just a broken ankle and not somewhere further up. The number of men that had come in with a broken leg and left with one and a half was a number that you didn’t like to think about. It was far too high.

But Bradley wouldn’t be one of them and you couldn’t help but send up a prayer of thanks. The minute he’d opened his eyes, you’d been transfixed by the deep amber of them. A deep brown like the whiskey that was saved for special occasions and sparkled like a polished gun barrel or belt buckle. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen handsome men. Quite the opposite. You saw all kinds of men at their worst. Lots of them lookers, but you hadn’t felt a connection to one until him.

His gaze made it hard to focus as you fumbled with his boot lace, finally undoing it after what felt like hours. The smell still made you recoil a little, even after nearly a year in the nursing corps. Regardless, you still had to do your job. So you worked quickly, removing both boots and socks and compared both sides to assess where the break was.

A soft touch to his foot had him chuckle and you glanced up at him curiously. “Sorry, just ticklish, is all,” Bradley said sheepishly, hand coming up to rub at his mustache.

You gave him a smile before returning to work, splinting his ankle and cleaning the blood, sweat, and mud from his skin. “Better now?” You asked him, tucking a blanket over his body and helping him into a clean-ish shirt.

His eyes met yours and despite being in pain, Bradley shot you a small smile. “Better now that I can see my guardian angel.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one, sailor? More times than you’ve used that line on anyone in stockings.”

Bradley just grinned at your retreating form and let his eyes slip shut. The pain in his body was getting to be too much, but as he dozed off, he found himself listening to your voice as you reprimanded a soldier barely older than yourself for getting out of bed. You intrigued him, that’s all.

He said I was his yellow rose

And we got married wearing borrowed clothes

Weeks had passed since that first interaction and both you and Bradley had been writing to one another as often as you could spare. While in the hospital, you learned that he and his friends had been separated from their landing crew as they made their way inland from the coast. He’d been on Omaha Beach during what had become known as the “D-Day” landing in Normandy.

Not that he’d been allowed to tell you that, but he had anyways, trusting you implicitly. He’d had to leave after nearly a month under your care, but made a promise to come back.

You hoped he would, but neither of you knew what would take place.

The fighting had drawn closer to your hospital as the Allies fought for Belgium, liberating it in 14 days and wrestling it from German hands. There had been some celebration amongst your ranks, but your heart ached for Bradley, praying every night that he came back to you.

For now though, you had to settle for letters. Bradley’s smooth voice seemed to read every letter aloud to you, each word wrapped in that gentle, flirtatious tone he had used every day you had looked after him.

Doll. My darling Rosie, the most recent letter began. They usually started out with some endearment, God knows he had used enough of them as he tried to win you over despite your colleagues warning him that you wouldn’t fall.

You remember Lew? Well he told me that writing to you was a waste because I wouldn’t get any letters back, but I know you. You wrote me back like you always do. Means I’m going to have a nice big stack of letters waiting for me the minute the post catches up with us.

We’re still marching. It’s been hell on my ankle, but you patched me up nice and neat so I’m not too worried. At least the view is nice. I think you would like it where we camped tonight, crickets are chirping now as I write this and it’s peaceful. Kinda like those nights you spent sitting with me when we’d talk about everything and I would always get worried that you would get sick of me jawing and talking your ear off, but you never did. Spoiled me for a good listener. The boys here don’t talk much. Battle fatigue is crawling all over them and it is always quiet around these times cause no one says a word.

It’s awful lonely though, sweetheart. I miss your laugh, especially how you would have to cover it when it was the middle of the night. Closest thing to home I had in a while. I hope you can hear my voice in this letter because I know I hear yours every time. And I mean every word, Doll, I hope you know that.

When I come back, I want to take you somewhere nice. Get you all dressed up in something pretty but you would still be the most beautiful dame I ever saw if you came out in your uniform that I know you are wearing now. Maybe I’ll take you dancing like you talked about, holding you close for song after song and if I’m lucky we would be going steady after that. That kiss on the cheek you gave me before I left is just haunting me because I had a taste of the future, if you feel the same of course.

Call me a flirt, doll, but I’m just sweet on you. I’m doing everything in my power not to go AWOL and come all the way back to find you, but I hope this letter finds you well instead.

Thinking about you, my English rose.

Yours always,

Bradley.

Wiping a tear from your cheek, you carefully folded the letter back up and placed it with the others. They were all like that, yearning to be back here instead of wherever he was, thoughts of the future and he always, always, signed it off with “Thinking of you,” or lately “Yours always.” Every letter gave you hope and while you knew some of yours had likely been delayed, you always jumped up like you’d sat on a tack whenever the post arrived.

Dot had started teasing you the second that Bradley left, but one reminder of Lewis and she too was blushing. The two of you sat in your quiet fear, praying that neither one of you would get a letter from one of their unit mates saying that one or both was gone.

Your next letter went out the same day.

Hopefully, it would all be alright. So for now, you let yourself dream of dancing in Bradley’s arms, Glen Miller playing softly in the background as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Hundreds of miles away, huddled under a thin blanket, Bradley pulled a creased letter from his pocket, finally having the chance to read it. As the letter slid out of the envelope, a sweet smell burst free and filled his nostrils. He recognized your perfume, the scent having filled him with joy every moment he spent by your side as he recovered.

Shifting a little and adjusting the blanket, he opened it up, catching a second page that tried to escape in the sudden breeze. Bradley moved his lantern over and began reading your tight script that had his heart skipping a beat each time he saw it fill a page.

Bradley,

I received another letter from you today and I thought I had best get writing so I don’t miss the post truck. I do remember Lewis. Hopefully he remembers Dot because she is patiently waiting for a response to her letter. I don’t think it matters, the sentiment is still the same and I would rather see you at the end of this harrowing ordeal than have you replay thoughts on paper.

I had been meaning to ask about your ankle. If it ever gives way, splint it like I showed you. I don’t want you to break it again, even if that would mean you have to come back to me. But for the moment, I am glad for your letters. They make me feel closer to you. Describe the view for me, please. I see nothing but muddy fields, canvas walls, and wounded men. Is it raining a lot on your march? I know your boots were ruined when you were brought here. Did you ever find new ones? He had, but the source of them sent his stomach twisting in knots. Pulling boots off a man killed in battle felt savage, like they didn’t matter as a person.

I miss our talks as well. I learned so much about you so quickly and I feel like I know everything about you. I miss the snort you make when you laugh, especially when I told you that the other nurses called me Rosie because I was the only English nurse here. I was worried you would stop breathing some nights the way you clutched your chest as you laughed like you had never heard anything so funny. But I would give anything to see your smile, the one where it reaches your eyes and it seems you swell up with joy. I know there isn’t much time for smiles now but if I could just give you one of mine, I would.

Send my love to the boys with you. War is hard enough without having to deal with loneliness at the same time and you all are in my thoughts and prayers. I miss you terribly and find myself daydreaming of you every spare moment I have, which is not often anymore, but I drift off to sleep with your past letters in my hands and your words in my mind.

Your confessions for after this war sound like heaven. I hadn’t let myself dream too long about what will become of us. We have both heard the stories of wartime romances often enough to know how precarious they can be, but if you have hope, dearest, then so do I. I’ll wear my best dress and you in your uniform, we will be the best dressed pair at the dance hall. Nothing sounds better than dancing close with you. I don’t care how presumptuous it is, the way my heart yearns for your nearness, I can give my answer to your most secret hopes without hesitation.

If you asked, dearest, I would be yours in a heartbeat. So long as you are mine as well. Bradley breathed out a laugh, trying not to wake his comrades. He had been kicking himself ever since he had sent that letter, hoping you felt the same and by the grace of God, you did. I may be English but we aren’t always prim and proper when angered. I could and would write a million pages with barely any thought, but the truck is waiting for me, so I must end this letter here. I hope my words keep you warm in this autumn weather and please, if you can, come back to me.

Stay safe, dearest.

Your Rose

The letter crinkled in his grip as Bradley bit back a wide grin. You were okay. You wanted to go steady. You cared for him. Fuck the war, he though. His doll was waiting for him back in Belgium and not for the first time, he hoped that the war would end for purely selfish reasons. You were waiting and his mama had raised a good boy who never left a woman waiting, he wasn’t going to start now.

The radio in the small hospital crackled as the BBC broadcast announced Germany’s surrender as Russian troops poured into Berlin. Cheers went up amongst the nurses and the men they were caring for, but you knew that the casualties were high on both sides. The United States still fought with Japan in the Pacific, chasing them back towards their island, and you knew that the fighting would go on for a long time.

The only thing? You hadn’t heard from Bradley in months, not since March of this year; 1945. It was now May.

The worry in you grew every day, trying and failing to hide it from Dot and the others around you. It hadn’t affected your work, but it affected nearly everything else. You were hardly sleeping, rereading his letters so often you had them memorized. “Thinking of you” was written in his neat handwriting against the back of your eyelids, and everytime you blinked, you thought of him.

A few days went by since that monumental announcement of the war’s end and some fighting was still happening but Germany’s surrender had a lot of Nazi sympathizers fleeing like rats. But world leaders were acting quickly and you knew that while it would be some time before you would return home to England, it would also not be enough time for Bradley to come back to you here in Les Annais.

So, like always, you went to work. The soldiers around you were still flirtatious, some even outright admitting that they were sweet on you, but you politely told them that you were waiting for your man to come back to you, and that while you were flattered, you just couldn’t.

Sweet smile after sweet smile. Bed bath after bed bath. Infected wound after infected wound. And still, no Bradley.

Then you heard your name shouted from outside. You had been packing your things, having received your letter to head back home, when Dot yelled so loudly you thought a hoard of Nazis were marching toward you. Racing outside dressed in your one non-uniform dress, you saw a Jeep full of men pull up. They too were yelling, and when you ran up, you saw a familiar face not half a meter away.

He was covered in dirt and grime, his hair longer than you had seen and his cheeks were covered in stubble like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but it was still your Bradley in every way that mattered. “Bradley…” you breathed, coming to a stand-still with your hands over your mouth. You stood stock still, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you took him in disbelief. “You’re safe…”

“Hey doll,” the rasp in his tone gave you shivers as you met his eyes. They were still the same color as the whiskey you all had drank the night the war was declared over, the same sparkle twinkling like the stars as he took you in. “Look at you. You look beautiful.” Bradley clambered over Simon, nearly elbowing him in the face in his haste to get out of the Jeep. “Prettiest picture I ever saw.

You blushed, ducking your head a little at his compliment. Bradley’s heart soared as he took you in, marveling at how his imagination had been unable to capture the picture perfect moment of you in that dress. You had lived in his thoughts for months, each letter sending pangs of loneliness through him as each moment without you passed. Now, standing in front of you, your hair curled and dressed like a million bucks, Bradley felt his love for you grow infinitely larger.

“You…” you began, looking up at him, your eyes wide in shock. “You came back, sailor.”

“‘Course I did. What kinda man would I be if I left my best girl waiting.”

Dot and the others were still watching intently, keen on seeing what happened when you both finally let your resolve snap. “Come on Rosie! Give your man a kiss!” Lewis hollered from where he stood with Dot in his arms. “He’s only been dreamin’ about this since forever!”

“Mulligan, I swear to God, shut your fucking yap for one minute,” Bradley yelled back, shifting his focus from you to his friend. “Sorry doll, Dot, shouldn’t have said those words with you around. Can you forgive me?”

Shooting Dot a wink, you caught his hand. “If you kiss me hard enough, sailor, I just might forget the whole thing.” You weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but it was worth it when Bradley’s face lit up.

“Is that right?” He said in a low voice. “Just one kiss?”

You shrugged as your gaze fell from his amber eyes to his lips and back again. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

That was all it took because next you knew, Bradley had picked you up in his arms and let his lips fall against yours, kissing you so soundly your breath left you in a rush. His hands around your waist held you so securely you didn’t fear falling. Your own hands cradled his face, subconsciously brushing away the tears that fell from his eyes.

He set you back on your feet, but his hands didn’t leave your hips. “So, did you forget about it yet?”

Smiling cheekily back at him, you replied “Forget what?” He chuckled and you let your palms slide down his neck to rest on his chest over his heart. “All that being said, dearest, I leave today. And I know you aren’t down yet.”

“We got separated from the Navy landing crew, doll. Kramer sent a telegram to the high ups and they are sending us on leave for a little while. Especially since we weren’t supposed to be in Berlin,” Bradley told you, a big hand running up and down your back. “So as long as I get to port at a reasonable time, I’m still doing my duty.”

“And when is that, Bradley?” Toying with his jacket, you found yourself chewing on your lip in thought.

“Hey.” His gentle tone had you looking up at his face that was filled with compassion. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ve got it in writing and up here,” Bradley told you, tapping his temple. “My mama always said I had a mind like a steel trap.”

You leaned up onto your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m still going to worry, Bradley. I don’t know how not to. But I trust you. If you say you have it, then you do.”

Bradley leaned down to kiss you again, this time the fierceness of the gesture had you gasping against his mouth. “God I love you.”

The world stood still as you looked up at him. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course, Rosie. Unless you have some other beau running around London that I don’t know about.” He paused, looking down at you. “Wait, you don’t have a beau waiting on you, do you?”

Looking shocked, you shook your head. “No. No, I don’t. My sister was the looker of the two of us.”

By now, Lewis and Dot had run off somewhere and the other men traveling with Bradley had scattered throughout the camp offering help to the pretty young nurses still there.

The two of you were alone.

“Come on,” you said, tugging him towards your tent. “I have something to show you.”

“You could lead me off a cliff, Rosie and I’d follow you happily,” Bradley chirped, relishing in the pretty blush that dusted itself across your face. His body hurt from sleeping sitting up, he hadn’t had a shower and probably smelled terrible, yet even just being near him flustered you to no end.

And he loved it. Maybe not as much as he loved you, but how could he deny you? Your grip on his hand tightened as you pulled him to you, your other hand coming to rest on his jaw. “I didn’t want to do this in public, but I’ve been daydreaming about you kissing me like I’m all you have ever wanted, Bradley.”

The words raced through him, excitement building as he let you guide his face to yours. The first gentle touch of your lips to his had him smiling broadly, and he knew that you were smiling just as hard by the way you pulled back just a little. The next attempt went similarly; the two of you too giddy in the other’s nearness to kiss the other properly.

But he made it work, catching your chin and kissing you soundly. The gasp that fell past your lips gave him an opening and he took it, slipping his tongue past your lips.

Bradley had anticipated some kind of resistance, the feeling probably new to you, but he found none as he continued to kiss you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. If anything, you brought in your own fierceness to the gesture, your tongue tangling with his.

When you finally pulled back, cursing your need to breathe real air and not just Bradley’s closeness, you found that his eyes were still screwed shut. “Pinch me,” he breathed out. “This has to be a dream.”

“This is real, dearest,” you replied with a giggle. “Would I lie to you?”

“You promise?” The tone of his voice seemed so young to your ears, reminding you that for all your 25 years, and his 27, he was still too young to have seen everything he likely had seen.

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered open, shining brightly with unshed tears. “Thank God. I don’t know what I would do if I had imagined you.”

“I’d say that you have a very vivid imagination then, dearest,” you replied softly, turning his face back to yours. When he’d looked away, you didn’t know, but you loved the sight of those warm eyes looking down on you and you would do anything to keep them in your life. “Besides, where would I go then? If I weren’t real, as you say.” Your fingers ran along the back of his neck, gently playing with the short curls. That was something else you hadn’t noticed until now; the natural curls that had emerged once his hair had a little length.

“Marry me.”

You froze, shock filling you from head to toe. “I beg your pardon?”

“Marry me, Rosie. I don’t have a ring, hell, I don’t even know if I’m going to have a home when I get back stateside.” The words poured out in a rush, but the emotion in his tone was palpable. This wasn’t just a wartime distraction to him. “All I know is that if I don’t tie you to me, if I don’t make every effort to keep you near, I’ll regret it forever doll.” Bradley’s eyes held nothing but sincerity, truth seeping from every pore as he held you, his big hands pressing you to him.

A deep sigh left your lips, the silence thundering in Bradley’s ears as he waited. You glanced up at him, your eyes misty with tears. “If I say yes,” you began, swallowing thickly. “If I say yes Bradley, you don’t get to leave because this is hard. I would be your wife, and you my husband. We do this together or not at all.” Tears had begun falling and you didn’t know if this was an accumulation of emotion from finally having him close or if it was fear. Fear of being wed and left in a heartbeat.

“Rosie, I would find the Chaplain now if it meant that I could spend the rest of my life with you. I would march to the Pacific now to end this war if it meant I could marry you faster. I fought for us just as much as I fought for my country and my mama would come down from Heaven like a shot if I even so much as thought about leaving you behind.” Bradley had ducked his head down, holding your teary eyes with his own. In the growing darkness, you could barely make out the ring of his honey-coloured iris, but you knew that he meant what he said.

How could he not?

“So, doll. What do ya say, hmm? Feel like being Mrs. Rosie Bradshaw?” The usual humor in his tone returned when he saw the meaning behind his words sink in. You understood him and trusted him deeply, after all he’d come back, hadn’t he? In what world would he do all of this and not mean it, not swear by it? Bradley had taken a step to close the distance between you both for the rest of time, pulled his heart out of his chest and held it out to you.

You met him halfway. “I’ve certainly been called worse, Mr. Bradshaw,” you teased gently, as you toyed with the collar of his jacket. “What makes you think I’ll come running when you call that name?”

“Because I’ll come running if you promise to call me that everyday, Rosie doll.” A giggle broke loose from your chest and the matching smile seemed to split your face in two as you watched Bradley’s face light up once he heard your reaction to yet another sweet name he could drop. “You never did answer my question, doll. Are you gonna leave me standing out in the cold like some sort o’ schmuck or are you gonna let me in to get all the good lovin’ my weary bones need?”

You slapped his chest, cheeks burning under his attention. “My mother raised me to never let a man starve nor grow cold, therefore I believe I ought to marry you, dearest. How else am I to go on living when I have a very handsome sailor practically begging for my hand?” You were still smiling broadly and as you watched your words get processed.

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Bradley let out a whoop of joy, grabbing you suddenly before picking you up and twirling you around the yard. “Well dammit all! Rosie said yes!”

Cheers broke out from around the hospital. Nurses and the G.I.s were clapping and whistling in celebration that only got louder when you brought your hands to his face and kissed him so hard you could feel your lips bruise from trying to pour every ounce of feeling into it. “God, I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

Setting you back on your feet, Bradley dipped you over a strong arm, bringing you into another sweet kiss that had you wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself as close as you could to his chest. “So,” Bradley mumbled. “When I find my mama’s ring, it’s yours. She would have loved you, Rosie. My pop too.”

You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I’m certain that they’re very proud of you, Bradley.” The softness of your tone combined with the sincerity filling every word was a shot straight to his heart. Tears sprouted in his eyes and Bradley brought you back up, hugging you tightly.

“I really lucked out, didn’t I? Meeting the most perfect girl this side of the Atlantic.”

A week later, you married Bradley William Edward Bradshaw in a simple ceremony at a small chapel outside London. His mother’s simple diamond and gold ring had slipped into your finger on the voyage across the English Channel while you had been staring out at the ocean around you.

You had scarcely noticed it at first, but when your eyes fell upon it for the first time, you swore that your heart had nearly fallen into your shoes at the sight. Bradley had laughed at your reaction, pulling you close and wrapping you in his arms for the remainder of the journey, all the while watching you trail your eyes over your hand time and time again.

It was all he could do not to press a kiss to your left hand every time he saw the ring catch the light, which was often, especially by lantern and lamp light.

Needless to say, the pair of you were very happy, and while Bradley had been tapped for deployment into the Pacific theater, his ship had only just made port somewhere in Spain before the US detonation of their super weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese emperor had surrendered almost at once and from your position in London, you couldn’t blame them. You had always hated the unnecessary violence, the casualties just because and this was no different. The innocent civilians hadn’t needed to die in such a way as they had, though you couldn’t see a way of changing the course of the war.

But Bradley was safe and on his way home to you. In the end, you couldn’t help those affected by the tragedy any more than you had during the war in Europe. You would be trying to wrap a wound made by a cannonball with a tiny sliver of fabric, so you set about waiting for him to come back to you.

Now though, you needn’t worry as much. You were Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw and he had made many a promise yet never broken a single one. So the mere sight of his form on the dock eased it all.

Today started the rest of your life.

We got eight children now growing old

Five sons and three daughters

She and I went on the run

Don't care about religion

I'm gonna marry the woman I love

Down by the Wexford border

She was Nancy Mulligan

And I was William Sheeran

She took my name and then we were one

Down by the Wexford border

===

A/N: So, I hope your heart has a big ass cavity in it and that you enjoyed the cotton candy level of fluff that I just threw at you! Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for being the best beta reader ever and @sarahsmi13s, I’m sorry for making you sob when I was sharing snippets

Read Roo and Rosie’s Christmas fic here!

Tagging: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @roosterforme @@eli2447 @nobody7102 @gigisimsonmars @dcyllom @bobgasm @multifandomlover4life @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

#fern writes #Ring Around My Rosie #wwii au #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #American Sailor Bradley X English Nurse reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader

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cometkenji · 2 months

Note

Hi!

I love Doctor, Doctor, please listen! The way you wrote about the differences between the two that were apparent at first and then how they were actually similar! 🫠

Would you be interested in doing a follow up for the same reader who still refuses to carry a gun, but then she and Spencer are in danger and an unsub is about to kill Spencer, so she breaks her rule and uses Spencer’s gun to shoot the unsub? She doesn’t have to shoot to kill, but just to protect Spencer.

Like maybe she got injured first and didn’t defend herself but the moment it’s about to happen to “her Doctor”, she knows what she has to do.

(If youre not interested, totally get it!!!) thank you for reading!

ANON YOU'RE A GENIUS OH MY GOD Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Guns, mention of violence towards a kid, reader gets stabbed (again), death mention, mention of reader getting a leg amputated WC: 909 This is a little spin-off of my first fic which you can read here but it can be read as a standalone as well

Things had escalated fast. The team had profiled a calm, rational unsub. She was acting more out of desperation than anything, nobody thought an attack was plausible. You had ruled out a partner early into the investigation, the kills were too mundane for that of two people. Even now, with said partner having killed the unsub, you still wondered how the companion could have possibly hid herself so well. The partner was armed, clearly the dominant of the two, it became an obvious case of master/servant.

It was just you and Spencer here, Hotch was following close behind but his ETA was around 6 minutes. You didn’t have 6 minutes. She had gotten you good, coming out angry and ready to take out as many as possible. Your leg paid the price as she dove at you. You aimed for the floor, just needing to get out of her way, but you’re about 60% sure she sliced right through your Achilles. It would take all the energy you had to get back up, leaving you stationary and practically useless on the floor.

The woman was clearly struggling with paranoia. She ditched the knife she struck you with in favor of waving her pistol around. She was incredibly animated as she spoke, throwing her hands in tune with her words as she argued with the air around her. Soon, as though a decision had been made, she set her sights on Spencer. Up until this point, he’d been helping you stop the blood pouring from your leg. You saw her make up her mind, and knew you had to act quick. She was coming for him.

“Spencer, give me your gun.” You said it quickly and near silently, thanking the heavens he was so close to you. You discreetly laid your hand on the ground, and he placed it on your open palm. His back was towards her, it was up to you to protect him now.

“You people think the whole world is up for you to dictate, you know that? You can never just let people be.” She was panting, hauling Spencer up from the floor and walking him against the wall at gunpoint. “We were fine! Nobody was ever even meant to get hurt, but you all can never just let people make mistakes.”

You were hiding the gun with your arm, if she saw it she could snap. “We understand mistakes, ma’am. But sometimes people get hurt. Don’t you think it’s fair the people you wronged get some justice?” You tried, but in your professional opinion this woman was already too far gone.

“No! Don’t say it like that! We didn’t mean to hurt that kid, ok? We just got carried away.” She was rising, there was no talking her down. “You could have let us go, we would have left the country.” It was horrific, she was crying - remorseful. “But now - now I have to kill you and I don’t even want to.”

“Put down the gun, ma’am. Please.” One last bargain. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”

She only cocked the gun as a response, raising her hand to aim the pistol at Spencer’s temple.

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You didn’t have a choice at this point. This was the first time in your entire career you’d been forced to hurt an unsub. You’d never been anywhere without a team to back you up. This time it was your finger on the trigger. The angle you were aiming from - crooked, while lying on the floor - made it incredibly difficult to predict where the bullet would end up. You aimed low, crossing your fingers it would shock her away from Spencer. She can’t hurt him. It was the only thought left in your head. Please don’t hurt him.

–

You found yourself in the back of an ambulance. Again. The wound was more severe this time, Spencer glued to your side for the trip to the ER. You were going to need surgery to repair the nerve damage she caused.

“I hate hospitals.” Dread pooled in your gut at the thought of going under the knife. Spencer looked at you appalled. He couldn’t believe you were complaining about the service that was going to save you from an amputated leg. Or in other words, he was panicking.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve lost enough blood to fill half a milk carton, Y/n! The fact they think you’re going to keep your leg means you got luckier than 67.2% of patients with similar stab wounds. Have a little gratuity.” His face was flushed, the hand gestures that usually accompanied his words were otherwise forgotten about.

“Spencer, I’m gonna be ok.” You looked in his eyes from where you laid on the stretcher. Sounding out each word a little more purposefully in order to calm him down.

“You shot someone. You’ve never even had to detain someone. I know how much you prioritize peace, Y/n.” Ah, so that’s why he was worked up.

“Spence.” You laughed a bit - endearingly - at how worried he was about you breaking a vow. “She was going to hurt you. I would have killed her if I had to.” He looked so fragile in the vehicle’s stark lighting.

“Really? You mean that?” The kinder way of saying would you have done that for the others?

You smiled at his words. “Only for you, Doc.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #x reader #x chubby reader #x fat reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #plus size reader #comet: SR #comet.comp: SR

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shadowofahope · 4 months

Text

Eucalyptus || 2.5

Warnings: Swearing, abandonment, hybrids are only considered as pets, mentions of pre-heat and scent triggers, use of medication, overdosing(unintentional), self-harm (unintentional)

Premise: A sugar glider hybrid with a broken past. Seven men convinced they can give her the life she’s always wanted. Sometimes destiny has a funny way of finding you, and sometimes it smells like Eucalyptus.

WC: 1.3K

Masterlist || 001 || 002 || 2.5

Words tumble out of your mouth when you hear the click.

“I need….Can I have more..?” You try to stop your hands from shaking. They haven’t stopped in weeks.

“Already?” The vet asks from the other end of the phone. He was finishing his paperwork for the day. He had Chinese takeout with his name on it that he was eager to get to when you called. Which was unusual in itself because you never called without one of your owners present or even all of them. “I gave you a 4-month trial, it's only been just over a month. Are they not working?”

You force down the thick lump of saliva in your throat, trying to clear your voice enough to sound..well like you were fine. “They were…but then- I need something stronger.”

You were not fine. You hadn’t been since the week you had been given the pills. But you held onto some hope that your body just had to adjust to them, waiting for them to take the discomfort away, the unending need you felt.

“Snow I can’t give you anything stronger, as you are a smaller hybrid they will be fatal if we’re not careful.” He sits up straighter in his chair. Forgoing his paperwork to focus on your words. “Did you try taking an extra one? That should help without being too much for your body.”

“I did.” The room starts to spin a little, you stumble to sit on the ground.”...So I took more.”

“How many more?” Now he’s slightly worried.

“Today or ?” You hold your head in your hand, but you're still finding it hard to stay upright. “I started taking 2 but then it stopped working so I took another and then…eventually another…”

“That’s 4. How long have you been taking 4?”

“A month or so?”

“How many today?” He was trying to keep calm, but inside he was frantic. 4 is double your max dose. He just hoped today you hadn’t followed the same pattern.

“Today…today….six…” The urge to vomit was slowly forcing its way higher and higher from your stomach. Every inch you could feel it burning a path through you. You decide it would be best to lay down on the hardwood. The coolness against your clothed back gave a welcome break from the rising heat. “It kept hurting. It wouldn’t stop hurting…”

“I need… I need… I need to morph back. I don’t feel as sick. I don’t want to be sick.” You could hear your own words slowing. Your mouth couldn’t keep up with your mind anymore. Or was it your mind not being able to keep up with your mouth? You couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

The tantalizing taste of eucalyptus that hung in the air. It was always the only thing your mind could focus on. It felt so thickly enticing.

“Snow! Do not change into your hybrid-” He’s cut off by a sharp chirp through the phone. “Shit.”

“Deandra!” He yells out his office door. “I need your hybrid in here now!”

One of the shelters nurses and her raccoon hybrid come running into the room, they had stayed later tonight to help finish getting the new hybrid drop offs comfortable. He shoves the phone at the male hybrid.

“I need you to tell me exactly what she’s saying. Keep her talking.” He instructs sternly. Normally he wouldn’t talk to someones hybrid like this but he doesn’t have the ability to watch his tone or filter his words.

He reaches over his desk knocking the papers that he was working on onto the floor. He quickly dials your owners number that he has kept on speed dial since his first day visiting you.

He hears the click of a connect.

“Seokjin! Thank god. Tell me, are you the one?” He feels out of breathe, like he’s panting. Even though he’s not.

“Doctor? The one what?” Seokjin’s curious words respond to him.

“The one who started Snow’s heat.” He clarifies.

There’s a pause. It takes too long for the other to answer his question.

“QUICKLY.” He shouts at the younger.

“No. No. its not me. What is happening?!” Seokjin’s concern erupts through his ears.

“You need to get home now, I’ll leave as soon as I can. The pills had a severe negative affect. She’s taken too many.” He explains desperately. He can’t hide the panic in his feet, he’s pacing in the space infront of his desk.

“What?” Seokjin tells himself out loud. “I have to tell the others.”

“No! Only you. Whoever it is will only make this worse. She needs you right now.”

“I’m leaving.” The younger notifies him as well as anyone else in the room with him.

“I’ll meet you there.” They both hang up, not bothering with any form of goodbyes.

“-Doctor…..” The racoon hybrid calls to him.

“What is she saying??” He’s trying to keep himself from yelling. But the full blown panic that is beginning to set within him is about to break out.

“She’s not… she’s not talking. She’s only making noises, nothing is making sense. I don’t think-”

He points to the nurse, “Call an emergency vehicle to head there. Tell them it’s critical.”

Rounding his desk, he snatched the phone away from the hybrid shuffling him to the other side and points at him, “Stay.”

“Snow! Hear me. Talk to me. Jin is on his way. You need to change back.” He hears a few other cheeps before loud rustling.

“Liiiiiiving with them…… has maaaade me…. the hppiest…. Ive ever been in my eeentiiiiire liiiiife.” Your voice comes through muffled and slurring. “I would gooo through….. aaaaaall….. the abuse…. I sufferrrrred…. over again….. to have the chance…. to beeee their pet. They loved meeeee doctor…”

“Love, snow. They love you.”

“I used to….. maaaake themmmmm sooooo haaaaappy….. Theeeey would alwayssss… ssssmiiiile when they ssssaaaaw mmmme…they donnnnnnnn sssmile assssss…… much anymore….. I wisssh they did….. How doo I…. make them sssssmile… again…?”

“They want you to be healthy and happy. That’s all they want.” He tries to quiet his own breath to be able to hear your slow deep attempts.

He hears a bang and rustling from the other end. He hits speaker on his office phone. The other hybrid still in his office, just in case she returns back to hybrid form. God he hopes she doesn’t.

“Snow what happened?” He can hear Sekjin’s voice now.

“Thesssse…. are…. Pretty’ssss…. Eyesssss.” Her slurring worsens. It’s almost incomprehensible.

“Snow please. Doctor what do I do?” Jins voice abruptly yells.

“I have an emergency vehicle headed to you now. Keep her awake and don’t let her change into her hybrid form. The medication will only circulate through her system faster.”

“Pretty…. issssn’t sssssmiling.-How do IIIII -maaaaake Pretty …ssssssmiiiiiile again.” He can hear Seokjin sniffling through her attempts at speech. “i kn..ooow. Everyyyyoooone ssssssmiiilessss ….when immmmm -”

“little…” they word escapes out in an exhale.

Airy faint chirps are heard, he drastitically turns to the other hybrid.

“Doctor! She’s changed again!” Jin all but shrieks.

“What is she saying?” He demands of the terrified male hybrid.

“...” He walks closer to listen, his face going pale. “She’s saying… ‘I’ll stay little forever. I’m no trouble when I’m little.’” Listens again “‘Everyone smiles when I’m little….I’ll stay little’…..She’s just repeating ‘I’ll stay little’ over and over again.”

“Snow!” Seokjin whimpers over the phone, his voice breaking. Just like his heart.. “No…. please.”

“I’M ON MY WAY!” He grabs his things from his drawer and bolts for the door.

Running to his car he thinks about all the risks, the side affects he had gone over with you, all the late night research he had done. But this isn’t one of the risks that even crossed his mind. He made a vow all those years ago when you first came to the shelter. He promised to find you a loving family, that you would finally be happy.

He didn’t realize just how dangerous this could be. How there was one thing above all others that could make it all come crashing down…desperation.

Masterlist || 001 || 002 || 2.5

taglist:@luminaaz, @mingkilovur, @thefirewasfriendly, @malewife-supremacy, @cestlabellemort @purpleskyyyy @aianloveseven @zera10 @roguesthetic, @littlrmills14-blog, @hesmyphenominiall @ottergirl @scrumptioustrash

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts angst #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hybrid au #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts hoseok #reader x mate revealed

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hystixia · 10 months

Text

OXYTOCIN.

SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE LAST PERSON DR. WILSON COULD TURN TO IN HOPES OF GETTING JEFF TO TALK, BUT YOU WERE NEVER QUITE PREPARED FOR THE MONSTER THAT IS JEFFREY MASON.

FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER

WARNINGS 、MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF KILLING, GORE, DEATH, NONCON, THREATS, MANHANDLING, HAIR PULLING, DEGRADATION, SPANKING, PUSSY SLAPPING, DACRYPHILIA, CHOKING, FORCED ORGASM, CREAMPIE, PERV!JEFF

NOTES 、his chuckles during the sessions >>>

The sight of Clarence’s exhausted face tugs at your heartstrings as you approach him and he sighs tiredly. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Dr. Wilson?” You ask quietly, you knew how taxing this job can be on the mind.

He hums, surprised for a moment before turning and looking at you and his face instantly softens as his eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Please, no need to be so formal with me.” You seem to relax a bit at that before he continues, “I’m having trouble getting one of our patients to talk. I’ve tried everything I could possibly think of, he’s just… not very cooperative.”

“Is it the same one?” You ask with curiosity and Dr. Wilson nods with a small hum, glancing at the folder in his hand.

“Yes, he’s proving to be difficult for even me to handle, I will admit.” He gives you a small look as if he’s contemplating on something before finally speaking up in a rather hesitant tone, “Pardon me for asking you such a thing but, you wouldn’t oppose trying to take a crack at him would you?”

You blink a few times, surprised he was actually asking you to take a shot at getting the patient to open up. Your lips curl up in a smile as your eyes sparkle. “Do you really mean it?”

He shrugs, returning your smile with a tired one of his own. “I don’t see why not. You’re exceptionally well at your job and I don’t doubt you could get at least something from him.” He opens the file but stops halfway and looks back at you again. “I should warn you though, he’s awfully crude and violent. During my sessions with him I learned early on that he enjoys trying to get under your skin.” You nod at his words, listening carefully and remembering each thing he said before he opened the file and placed it on the desk, showing you the profile of the patient and your eyes widen a bit at the two photos clipped to the paper that held information and details on the man.

Jeffrey Mason. The name instilled fear in a large majority of people in Forest Lawn, especially those that lost loved ones the night he took so many innocent lives. It pained you, the grief they had to bear after receiving terrible news that following morning and you consider yourself lucky you nor your friends and family were ever in his harmful way. You’re relieved to know he’s here, where he can’t hurt anyone and is restrained all the time.

The two photos, one of him before the accident and one after when he had been arrested. Despite him being held here for two years now, you’d never known anything about him besides what terrible things he had done. He looked rather normal in the before photo, but there was a dark look in his eye that made you think otherwise. The second photo was a horrific sight of its own. His burned face, the carved smile that nearly reached his ears and that animalistic look in his eyes that made your skin crawl. He looked much more like a monster in that photo and you consider he thinks he is one himself.

You give Dr. Wilson a glance as you straighten your posture. “When is the next session, Dr. Wilson?”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ve been spending less and less time on him since I have other patients to attend to, but you can start as early as next week I’d suppose.”

You give him a determined look and puff out your chest a little as you grab your things and prepare to leave for the day much like he was himself. “I will get words out of him, Doctor. I can promise you that.”

He laughs a bit at your determination as he grabs his own things and prepares to leave soon. “I have no doubt that you will.”

The next week comes surprisingly quick but maybe that’s because you were itching to try and attempt to get something out of the patient. If Dr. Wilson was struggling that surely meant you’d have a lot of trial and error yourself but you have the patience to handle any patient that’s been given to you. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard right?

“You can bring him in now.” You call out and soon after the large door squeaks and groans as it’s opened and the sound of chains jingling and clinking meets your ears as the noise bounces off the walls of the small room.

Your head turns immediately at the sudden sounds as a guard brings the patient in and Jesus he was so much scarier in person. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat and as hard as you tried to listen to Dr. Wilson’s words, the guy definitely intimidated you by just his presence alone.

His heavy breathing leaves uncomfortable goosebumps along your skin as you watch him practically be dragged into the room and sat in the chair. The guard clicks something on the cuffs around his hands and you realize he’s locked him to the table. At least he isn’t able to move around thankfully. His feet are chained together, leaving him very little room to move one foot in front of the other and you try to keep your gaze off him as he stares at you with those sickening eyes of his.

You clear your throat and look up at the guard, straightening your posture to appear more confident. “You can go, it’s fine.” You say and he nods before eyeing the patient chained up who’s carved smile seems to widen as he stares over and back up at the man before he’s walking out of the room and closing the loud door behind himself.

You look down at the file before you and then glance at the record player currently spinning as it records. You sigh through your nose and slowly lift your eyes up to look at his face only to see him staring back with an animalistic hunger.

“Jeffrey Mas—“ “It’s just. Jeff.” He emphasizes with a hint of aggression to his voice. You’d never heard him speak before, and you certainly hadn’t expected his voice to sound so raspy and deep.

You correct yourself, ignoring the way your heart jumped up in your throat for a moment. “Right. Jeff, we’re going to talk about you for a little while.” You sit up straight again and look down at the file to distract yourself from his eerie stare.

He breathes out a chuckle, “Heh, what do you want to know about me then?” He’s mocking you and his heavy breaths like some wild animal are starting to get to you. Now you’re realizing why Dr. Wilson had such difficulties with this guy.

You rest your forearms on the table, leaning in a bit as you stare at him and try to get over your nerves. You needed to be professional, why was it proving so difficult to do suddenly? “What were you like growing up?” You’ll start off simple, ask basic questions any other doctor or therapist would ask.

He scoffs and you swear you saw his tongue peak out the side of his carved cheek. “Angry. Really fuckin’ angry.” His eyes are casted downward no longer looking at your face and you frown a bit, you tap your finger against the table to get his attention and his eyes immediately flick up to yours.

“I need you to focus, Jeff. This is serious.” “Is that why your tits are on display?” You’re stunned, blinking a few times to process his words before staring down at your shirt. It’s merely one button that hasn’t been buttoned up with the rest, you can barely even see the line of your cleavage and he had the nerve to say such an inappropriate thing to you?!

“That is highly inappropriate, Jeff.” You suddenly snap, becoming defensive but all he does is laugh, the sound reaching your ears and reverberating off the walls.

“Oh, c’mon, doctor.” He mocks. “They were beggin’ for some attention.” He speaks in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine, his tone is sinister before he breaks out in another manic laugh, giggling to himself.

“I need you to cooperate with me.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair and he rolls his eyes as he huffs. The chains jingle as he leans in over the table.

“What if I don’t want to cooperate with you?” He spats out, suddenly hostile and it’s like a game of hot potato for you only you never know when he’s going to switch up on you.

“I’m here to help you, Jeff.” You say in a calm and soft tone, trying to not let his refusal at cooperating get under your skin.

He scoffs, an airy chuckle ringing out. “Heh, you can help me out by undoing these cuffs.” He cackles, throwing his head back as he tugs on the handcuffs circled around his wrists and attached to the restraints keeping him in the chair.

You press your lips in a thin line before responding curtly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad isn’t it, doll?” He tilts his head, that crazed look in his eyes that makes you feel small and naked under his stare. It makes your skin crawl but you’re determined to help him, if there’s any chance he’s even salvageable.

You hum quietly to yourself, looking over at the recorder before sighing through your nose and attempting again. “Jeff, I need you to be open with me and answer my questions, please.”

He chuckles again. “Beg me again and maybe I will.” God if you could punch him in his disgusting face you would right now. You don’t dwell on it for too long, you know he’s just trying to get reactions from you.

“Will you please cooperate with me?” It’s silent save for his breathing. You try again, “Please, Jeff?”

“Ooh, I like it with you beg.” He grins, breathing out creepily as he watches you. He moves a bit in his seat and the restraints clink loudly with his movements. “You wanna know something fun?”

“I’m not quite sure I know what your definition of fun is.” You watch him carefully, looking for any signs he might try something but he seems relaxed for the most part as he leans back against the chair.

“I’ve pictured all the ways I’m going to rip you limb from limb, and then watch you bleed out.” He smiles, mangled scars twisted up as he does so. “It’ll be a sight to behold, seein’ you lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You try to not let it affect it. You clear your throat and give him an uninterested look. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere, Jeff Mason.” He continues to laugh like a crazed man, eventually coming down as he sighs. “When did the ringing and visions start?”

“What visions?” He nearly spats out, leaning back in the chair as the restraints jingled loudly again.

“You’ve mentioned in previous sessions with Dr. Wilson that you, saw what’s coming. When did this start?” You ask, noting his behavior on the clipboard momentarily as you gave him time to think of an answer.

He sighs dramatically. “What do you think?” He snarls and you give him an unbothered look back.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Jeff.” You reply in a soft voice like before, he seemed to be more keen to a certain extent when you talked gently but maybe you were just desperate to get this over with now and were trying everything multiple times.

“Well, aren’t you just a doll, huh?” He grins, eyes glued to your face and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to gag.

“Jeff,” You have to get him back on track whether he wants to or not. You sigh deeply through your nose and look down at the clipboard where you’re written various notes. “We aren’t getting anywhere unless you cooperate with me.”

“Oh, but we are.” He chuckles, tilting his head as he leans over the table but there’s suddenly something different about him this time and you tense up as if he’s got you at knife point. He breathes out forcefully through his nose like he’s calming himself from falling into a fit of rage. “You wanna know somethin’ else, doctor?”

You’re hesitant, giving him an unsure look as you shrink back in your chair just the slightest. “And what’s that, Jeff?”

He lets his head turn down as he laughs, turning into a full blown manic cackle as his shoulders shake like he heard the best joke ever. He raises his head again but this time the room is heavy with an unknown aura as his eyes lock onto yours. “That guard, is real lousy about checkin’ the restraints.” His smile widens, an evil glint in his eyes as a loud metal shriek rings out and you hear something clink against the ground. He’s already reached you before you can react and you try to scream out but his hand slaps over your mouth to muffle your noises as his breath is hot against the shell of your ear and he tugs you out of the chair roughly.

“Screamin’ like an animal caught in a trap, heh.” He slams you into the metal table and it feels like you’re spinning. Pain blooms in your head, throbbing your entire skull until he lifts your head up by your hair and slams your face back into a table a few more forceful times. You cough out and wheeze a breath, wincing in pain as it clouds your entire system and you’re unable to truly focus your eyes on anything.

“S-stop—“ You gasp out, hands gripping into the edge of the table as tears flood your vision and you fight back a sniffle.

He hums happily from behind you, grabbing your waist tight as he gets a feel of you before letting his hands slide down to the curve of your ass and he groans.

“Y’know,” He starts, hooking his fingers in your belt loops but you’re in too much of a daze to comprehend his actions as he starts to pull your pants down. “I think you might just be mine now, doll.”

You whine in protest, unable to form words properly and you try to push yourself up off the table but he shoves you into it with his arm against your back making you grimace in discomfort.

“Fuck, what a nice ass.” He groans with a hissed breath, already having pulled your pants down to bunch up at your knees that are practically limp as he forces his way between them. He rubs a hand over your ass before slapping it hard, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry out in shock and pain. He chuckles behind you and does it again and again, and again.

“Stop i-it!” You cry out, biting your lip hard to distract from the raw pain tingling in your rear as you lie pathetically on the table.

“Why should I?” He jabs a finger against your clothed cunt, it’s uncomfortable as hell and clumsily pushed against your heat. “You’re fuckin’ wet from this? Dirty bitch.” He grins before giving your pussy a loud slap that sends a bolt of electricity through your body that made you squeak.

“Oh you like that, huh? Just a filthy bitch waitin’ to get her cunt fucked?” He mocks with a sneer, tugging your panties to the side and groaning at the shiny slick your pussy drools. “You are gettin’ off to this, doctor. Isn’t that unprofessional?” You wanted to scream at him, to kick him off you so you could run to the door before he ever did anything more vile to your body but it’s as if your limbs have gone numb and you’re no longer able to move them. You’re trapped and as the realization nestles itself into your heart and mind, you feel hopeless in the moment as tears start to fall and you cry silently against the table.

He spreads your pussy, forcing your legs to move further apart so he could get a good look before he’s fumbling with the orange slacks he wore and tugging his aching cock from its confinements. He groans as he pumps it a few times, mushroom tip leaking beads of precum before he’s nudging it against your cunt and pushing in without warning. You nearly shriek but he wraps a hand around your throat cutting off your airway completely as he forces his thick girth into you with a low groan.

“So fuckin’ tight, relax will ya?” He grunts out, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out and your pussy pulses and constricts around his intruding length. It burned achingly so, and it felt like you were being ripped apart. It was agonizing and you cry as he loosens his hold on your neck and you finally get an intake of air, inhaling like a greedy and starved woman as you pant against the table.

He pulls you up and back by your hair and your arms instinctively push on the table to keep yourself upright and to dull the pain in your scalp from his tugging. He doesn’t release the grip he has on your hair though as he pulls back and then slams forward into you brutally and knocking the air from your lungs. You nearly fall forward, arms shaky and your feet barely reaching the ground as he uses you.

“Shit, are you cryin’?” He tugs your head to the side and you unfortunately get a glimpse of his face as he groans at the tears falling down your face before making you look forward again. “Fuckk, keep crying like that, you fuckin’ slut.”

You sob but not because he wants you to, no you wish you could stop the hiccuping breaths and warm tears but the pain in your entire body is too much to handle and along with the rough thrusts he’s doing, you feel like your head is gonna pop any second.

His hips snap loudly into your ass and he tugs your underwear down enough to see the handprints he left behind on the swell of your ass as he smiles and tugs on your hair again to hear a pained whimper fall from your lips.

“What a slutty fuckin’ cunt, huh? Sucking me in, you wanted this.” He grunts, your soft walls squeezing him so perfectly were starting to get to him and he could feel his cock twitch inside of you. He lets go of your hair and grabs you by your neck once again and squeezes it, feeling your pulse thump at a fast rate against his digits.

“Filthy whore, ‘m gonna dump my load into ya. Heh, you’re gonna take it like a good bitch aren’t ya?” He chuckles, voice strained as he digs his fingers into your neck and his other hand that was gripping your hip slides down your stomach and rubbing at your clit. Your hands instantly go to stop him and he holds you up by your neck and you’re forced to take short and shallow breaths as your hands try to pry his hand away from your sensitive bundle of nerves but the warmth and addictive pleasure that twists and churns in your gut makes your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just give in, let me— ngh, fuckin’ use you, you dumb rapeslut.” His face tenses up as your walls flutter around him and he laughs. “Gonna cum from rape? Try to stop it then, c’mon. You can do it, doll.” He mocks with a grin but your body betrays you and your walls contract around him as you cream around his cock but he keeps thrusting, unrelenting and unstoppable as he groans at the feeling and chases his high.

“Good fuckin’ rapedoll, huh?” He’s just humiliating you even more now and you sob out as you beg and babble.

“S-stop it, Jeff!— haah, d-don’t do it, please!” You cry pathetically, trying to pull away from him but you’re pinned and it’s useless to try and stop him. He was a fucking monster. “Pull o-out, ngh— oooh!”

He snarls, squeezing your throat so tight you can’t breathe again as he ruts into you like an animal, each brutal thrust bumping your cervix painfully. “I’m cum where I fuckin’ want to, bitch.” He spats, slapping your ass hard but you can’t gasp for breath, you couldn’t fucking breathe.

You open your mouth pathetically as your hands grab at his wrist to pry off his hold on your throat but it’s pointless. He groans behind you and shortly after his thrusts grow sloppy and warmth floods your cunt. Your eyes widen in fear and you try to scream out but no sound leaves you as tears flood your vision, blurring it once more. He laughs like a maniac behind you as he stills his hips and grinds purposefully into your sensitive walls before pulling out and letting your panties keep his cum from spilling out and making a mess.

He pulls away from you, lets you gasp like a fish out of water for a few moments and with what little dignity you had left you manage to tug your pants back up right before he forces that door open and lunges at the guard with a crazed chuckle.

You don’t remember much of what happened after that. You remember seeing him bash the guard’s head into the wall and then violently punching another one to death. Your eyes grow heavy and your body lies weakly against the table as you watch him disappear down a hall, covered in blood before your consciousness slipped away.

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