#wc: 911 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevesherdaddynowlover · 4 months ago

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the next level [s.h.] 18+

an: i have not written in months but this ask revived a little part of me i think. i missed you and hope to have some motivation to write every once in a while…if you’ll have me. love you big 💌 (feel free to send requests as always and lmk what you think!!!)

masterlist here!!

summary: coming to terms with being hopelessly in love with your long term best friend is easy enough (it’s not) until the years of touching and tension come to a head on a visit home from school

(steve harrington x fem!reader) 18+ only

warnings: tiny use of y/n, fluff, cursing, teasing, messy kissing, spit, use of a toy, dirty talk, smidge of f masturbation, fingering, p in v, pet names, yearninggggg MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 10k+

There has always been something between you and Steve. Stolen glances and lingering touches that teetered right on the edge of friendship or something more. Drunken kisses that had your cheeks tinged pink and your heart racing far faster than normal.

Despite the tension between you, the heated eyes and sickly sweet pet names, what really warmed you was just how good Steve was. He’d held you while you cried, listened to you ramble on and complain about everything under the sun for as long as you needed and never made you feel like it was too much. That’s what you really loved about him, he never made you feel like you were too much.

Even when you got in those moods of yours, the ones where you pushed him away because you couldn’t handle how you felt and didn’t know how to cope with the thoughts in your head, he didn’t budge. He’d give you a kiss on your forehead, hold his lips there for a few seconds too long and whisper how he loved you, how he understood and how he’d be here when you were ready to talk about it.

Now that you think about it, you really can’t remember a time where you weren’t in love with Steve Harrington.

His ears must have been burning, your phone buzzing against your thigh has you shaking your head to clear your thoughts and you look down to be met with his name flashing across your screen.

“Hello, Harrington.”

“It took you a whole 7 seconds to pick up my call, I could have been dying over here.”

Even though he can’t see you, you roll your eyes at him, laughing under your breath. “And I’m your first call?”

“Who the hell else would be my first call, princess.”

What you can only describe as a gasp gets caught in your throat and you hope he didn’t catch it. Your cheeks are warm and there’s a swirling in your tummy at the use of the pet name that has you gripping the phone a little too tight.

“911, I hope.”

His laugh is loud and without even closing your eyes you can tell it’s the kind where his head is thrown back and his eyes are squeezed tight. You know his throat is on display and you wonder if he’s cut his hair or if he still has those curls at the nape of his neck you love so much.

“God, I miss you.” It slips out before you can stop it, cheeks turning red in an instant. His laughter slows as if he’s sobering up and you curse yourself under your breath. Your mouth opens to say something, anything to dig yourself out of this awkward hole you’ve fallen into when he speaks. “I miss you too, sweet girl. I always miss you. All the fucking time.”

There’s a ringing in your ears as you let his words hit your skin, stick to you and try and worm their way into parts of yourself you’ve tried to keep locked up. He’s your friend. Your best friend. Best friends can miss each other, but hearing him laugh like that and just hearing his voice without being able to see him, to touch him makes you feel like your chest is caving in and it’s suddenly harder to breathe.

Steve’s the kind of person that takes up the whole room. All eyes are drawn to him as soon as he walks in, chocolate eyes that you swear to god sparkle when he smiles, deep dimples and a stray curl that twists against his forehead. And when his gaze catches yours, it’s like time stops. Everything outside of him is a blur and your whole body buzzes under his gaze.

At least you think that’s how everyone feels when they’re in a room with him.

He’s still in your ear talking about plans for the holidays and all the things you have to see, as if anything has or will ever change in Hawkins. He ends the call with a promise to talk tomorrow, but you know one of you will end up texting before the night is over anyways.

A gust of wind from your open window sends goosebumps across your bare arms, the chilly November air has a bite to it and it sends you back to a memory of Steve from high school that has a smile threatening to take over.

*5 years ago, sophomore year*

There might be a pink highlighter smudge across your cheek from the way your body jolts from a post study daze at the creak of your window being slid all the way open.

“You left your window open for me.”

It’s not a question, you both know that. Your body seems to realize who it is before your mind does, relaxing back into your bed and giving Steve a small, timid smile from where he’s crawling through your window.

Words don’t seem to be an option right now so you shrug at him, scooting over so there’s room for him to slide in next to you. It’s a routine the two of you seem to have, coming to each other for comfort, when you’re bored, when you miss the other. Really any reason to be together, you’ll take.

The bed dips beside you and a second later his arm is around you, pulling you closer so you’re tucked into him. “My own personal Wendy Darling, hm?” He chuckles at the blush crawling up your neck and touching your ears.

One thing you’ve noticed is that Steve almost always has a hand on you, like he needs to feel your skin against his if he’s in the same room. Like now, laying in your bed his hand has made its way up to your hair and he’s twirling a few strands between his fingers, tugging gently every once in a while.

It’s quiet in the room, the hum of the fan is persistent even in the cold because you can’t sleep without the noise. Your cheek is pressed tight against him, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes lulling you to sleep.

You can feel yourself slipping away when he speaks, the vibration in his chest making your eyes pop open. “Why do you leave the window open for me? It’s not really safe.” He laughs a little at the end, not sincere but you know he’s doing it to cover up the hint of real curiosity in his voice.

It takes you a second to answer, not because you don’t know but because you can’t fathom that he doesn’t know. It’ll always be open for him. No matter what happens or what changes between the two of you, you will always open it.

“Because I love you. Because I want you to know that this is always going to be a safe space for you and that you can always come to me, for anything.” You could go on, to tell him how the creak of the window is your favorite sound because you know that it means he’s here, that he was thinking of you. You could tell him how you’re so in love with him there’s probably not a thing you wouldn’t do to make him comfortable, to make him happy.

But you don’t. You look up at him and know that your eyes give away more than you like but it’s okay because so do his.

He presses a kiss to your temple and even though it didn’t seem possible, pulls you closer to his chest and smiles to himself when your breathing evens out and you melt into him.

*end of flashback*

Opening your eyes again, the coldness of your skin tells you that you’re not in your childhood bedroom in Hawkins, Steve isn’t pressed up against you, and you’re not in high school anymore. You look around at your too small but cozy apartment in Chicago, 2 years of college under your belt and an ache in your chest at the absence of the familiarity of home. Of Steve.

A ping from your phone has you looking down and just as you suspected, neither of you could wait until tomorrow and you can’t help the giddy feeling that takes over immediately.

Steve: Forgot to mention this, even though it should go without saying, but don’t make any plans without me when you’re home. Might even handcuff us together if I’m feeling crazy.

Y/n: You have handcuffs on standby?

Steve: Wouldn’t you like to know.

And suddenly the countdown to Thanksgiving break seems much more exciting and you realize you would very much like to know.

————————————-

The next three weeks fly by and before you know it you’re pulling into the driveway of your childhood home, a scarf wrapped around you because the heat isn’t working right in your too old car and a smile on your face at the sight of the front door being pulled open and your siblings pouring out to greet you.

No matter how badly you miss your family, it doesn’t take long for your social battery to drain. You’re tired from the drive and you’ve spent the last few hours answering questions about school and friends and even the weather.

Pulling yourself up the stairs takes effort and the click of the door to your childhood bedroom behind you sends waves of relief through your body.

But being back in this room is the same every time.

Your body is on clockwork, feet shuffling you across the room before you even know what’s happening and you truly feel a sense of home when you reach up and flip the lock on your window.

—————————————

Fingertips skimming across your forehead, then your cheek, then cupping your jaw, you find yourself leaning into the touch, even though you’re not sure who it is. But really you do. You always do.

One eye cracks open but it’s so bright you squeeze them closed again. When did you fall asleep? It must be morning, early by the looks of it. It’s when a thumb swipes over your bottom lip that your eyes pop open, mouth opening to yell or just gape—you’re not sure which. But before you can his palm is covering your mouth, fingers splayed against your jaw and a wicked grin on his lips.

“Shhh, s’just me. Good morning, princess.”

His reassurance does little to slow down your racing heart, lips tingling where his skin touches yours and you fight the urge to pucker them against his palm. It’s like he knows it too, mischievous eyes and a lop sided smile as he takes you in for the first time in months.

Between him waking you up and pressing his hand over your mouth, you haven’t even realized he’s on top of you, thighs spread over your hips and the hand not on your mouth is buried in the sheets beside your head holding him up.

You’re lucky you slipped on a t-shirt—an old one of his of course— before bed or he would be able to see the red creeping up your chest and curling around your neck at the smell of him. Vanilla and some sweet fruit you can’t bother to remember when he’s inches away from you. He must have showered just before he came, still damp curls framing his face and strawberry lips glossy from the chapstick you know he has in his back pocket.

Just as handsome as you remember, somehow more so, you can’t help the sigh that lands against his palm, your arms reaching up to wrap themselves around his neck and pull him down so he’s flush against you. You whisper his name into the space between you, what little there is, and feel him tense for just a split second before he’s molding himself against you.

It’s a little dramatic and a lot embarrassing when you feel tears well up in your eyes, how much you missed him and how right this feels all becoming too much. Blinking them away as quick as possible, you both stay still for seconds or maybe minutes before he pulls back, smiling down at you, eyes catching yours.

“Who knew king Steve was so desperate for a hug from me he’d break in at 6 am.” It’s mumbled against his palm that’s now loosely pressed against you, but he hears it all the same. There’s a flash in his eyes and you get to see them turn serious for just a split second before that glint returns. The one that tells you you’re in trouble.

“Oh I’ve been desperate for you forever, baby.” He doesn’t give you anytime to react or to even process what he’s said because in the next second he’s pulling off of you, giving a quick pinch to your cheek and winking at you as he pulls open your bedroom door to head downstairs.

“Now c’mon, I’m hungry and I can’t have my breakfast in bed with your family downstairs.”

A scoff of surprise leaves your lips, eyes wide as you watch him bound down the stairs, your family welcoming him with a chorus of hellos and welcomes as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

You’re pulling on the first clothes you see when your eyes catch on the window, a smile and a flicker in your chest when you see it’s still half open.

Breakfast passes in a blur. It’s loud and busy and no one lets anyone else finish a sentence. Steve’s thigh stays flush against yours the whole time, his hand coming to give it a squeeze when he catches you drifting off amongst the chaos.

It’s when your mom quiets the room, everyone going still that you stiffen under his touch. “So Steve, any new girlfriend?” Your dad takes a swig of his coffee, eyes cast down at his plate. Your sisters are holding their breath and looking between you and Steve with frantic eyes. And your mom is painfully unaware that you’re in love with Steve and this is the last thing you want to hear about. Ever. Everyone seems to know except for her and you can’t even be mad when she’s so genuine.

His hand is still on your thigh and suddenly it feels hot to the touch. If he’s nervous or uncomfortable he doesn’t show it, still wearing that smug smile that’s become his signature.

“Ahh no, you know me. Only girls in my life are at this table. Plus Robin.” You swear she swoons, your sisters too. And you would roll your eyes at him if it wasn’t for the way he was rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on your leg, eyes darting to the side to catch yours.

The room roars back to life at his admission and you hate to admit how relieved you are to hear he’s not seeing anyone. With everyone yelling over each other no one seems to notice you lean a little closer to whisper in his ear.

“Good one, Harrington. You’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.”

Something must have changed between the last visit home and this one. He’s got a way about him that screams confidence. He’s always been cocky, but he’s more direct with you now. You love it. It’s always been intense between you two, flirting and touching.

But it’s been taken up a notch, a new level added to the game that you weren’t aware of. Because when he leans close and lets his lips touch the shell of your ear, you know you’ve entered a whole new ball park.

“It seems to have worked on you too with the way your thighs are wrapped around my hand right now.”

————————————————

Steve

It doesn’t matter that it’s been two days, the feel of my hand stuck between her warm thighs while we ate breakfast is all I can think about. The way they closed tighter around me when I leaned in toward her. Fuck.

I feel like a desperate little puppy nipping at her heels with the way I’ve been trying to spend every waking minute with her. We’ve always been close, but since she moved there’s this ache in my chest that only eases when I get a whiff of her coconut shampoo or when I feel her warm skin on mine.

She doesn’t even notice the way I watch her, I’d notice. My eyes always find her in a crowded room or on Main Street on a Saturday afternoon. They watch the twitch in her nose when she laughs and the way she subconsciously swipes her hair behind her ears even when it’s already tucked away.

———————————————

“Soooo, what are we seeing today?”

One of the things you loved most in the world was going to the movies. Whether it was with someone or by yourself, something about sitting down with strangers and watching a movie on the big screen just made you giddy. The smell of fresh popcorn and the posters lining the walls as you walked to your theater felt like magic.

And as much as you loved Steve, loved spending time with him, taking him to the movies felt like taking a toddler. It was always a huge ordeal, a hassle even, but you secretly loved it. He’d be on your heels the whole time, stuffing overpriced snacks into his arms and making himself sticky while mixing flavors of soda.

You could never tell him what you were seeing until you were there or he would pester you about who was in it, the plot, the filming, anything he could think of. It was endearing, how interested he was.

“Gladiator II.”

When Steve didn’t immediately say anything you turned around, peanut m&ms, twizzlers, and popcorn spilling out of his hands and some concoction of a diet coke tucked under his arm.

“You’re gonna make me sit and watch you drool over Pedro and Paul for almost 3 hours, you little freak!”

A loud laugh bursts out, your hand reaching out to tug on his elbow so he keeps walking towards your theater. “That’s not the only reason we’re here. Besides, don’t act so innocent. I’m sure you’ll be drooling too.”

He shrugs, his cheeks a little pink and a lopsided smile curving on his face as you make your way to your seats. You’ve no more than sat down before his hand finds yours, fingers looping together and pulling your arm towards him so it’s half on the armrest, half in his lap. It makes your heart race, especially when you glance over to see he’s staring ahead like it’s second nature for the two of you to be touching.

Which I suppose at this point, it is.

Normally the crunch of popcorn so close to your ear would have you fidgeting in annoyance, but for some maddening reason you find everything Steve does sweet. The little dribble of butter on the corner of his mouth doesn’t make you cringe, it makes you want to lean over and swipe it away with your thumb…or your tongue.

And you feel yourself fall a little further in love with him when he leans over and opens his palm to reveal a handful of blue peanut m&m’s for you because he knows that even though they all taste the same, those are your favorite.

Halfway through the movie you’ve accepted that you’ll have to come see it again, this time on your own—because even though you’ve been looking forward to it for months—your focus is solely on the brunette boy beside you.

Shoving popcorn down your throat is doing little to distract you from the warmth of his hand or his arm pressed tight against yours. You’ve eaten half his twizzlers just to keep yourself occupied and it doesn’t help that he keeps feeding them to you with a warm smile and a sly wink.

You find yourself watching him out of the corner of your eye the whole time. The wince of his face at the gore, the way his eyes widen during intense scenes, his lips parted just so. God! How does he look so effortlessly pretty watching a fucking movie!

There’s a hitch in your breath you hope he doesn’t notice when he subconsciously squeezes your hand or tugs it closer to him. By the time the end of the movie is nearing, you’re all but squirming in your seat at the sight of his bottom lip swollen and red from how he’s been biting down on it the whole time.

If it wasn’t clear he was enthralled by this movie, you’d be annoyed with him because surely he’s being this attractive on purpose! He’s doing this just to make your thighs clench and your eyes glaze over at the sight of his arm bulging in his long sleeve shirt when he shifts in his seat. His words from earlier come back to you and you fight off a laugh at the irony that you’re sitting here drooling over him for nearly three hours.

Tearing your eyes away from him when the credits start to roll is annoyingly difficult, but you try. Somehow willing yourself to act like you just paid any attention to the movie that you made him watch when in reality you only focused on the curve of his nose and the pout on his lips.

“Okay, you win. That was awesome.” The most you manage is a noncommittal hum that only encourages him to keep going, nipping at your heels as you weave your way through spilled popcorn and candy wrappers to the exit.

“—and I was drooling over them a little bit, but can you blame me? Did you see his abs??” You nod your head and hope that’s enough to satisfy him because now you’re feeling overwhelmed and irritated that you spent the whole movie watching your best friend like a freak AND missed seeing Paul Mescal’s abs.

“What’s your deal? You’re like…catatonic.” It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped walking and is a few feet behind you. He looks a little amused and you wonder if your face is giving away exactly how you’re feeling right now.

“I’m good, it was good. I’m glad you liked it, told you I know my stuff.” Plastering on the fakest smile you have, and he knows it too, you spin on your heel and only make it a few steps before his hand on your arm is stopping you.

You turn to him on instinct and almost gasp at how close he is, chest inches from yours and a smugness in his eyes as he looks down at you. “Is that all?” His voice is deep and maybe even a little dark and you feel thankful your jacket hides the goosebumps that cover your arms at his tone.

“Mhm.” Nodding and avoiding all eye contact you attempt a step back but it’s pointless because for every one you take, he matches it. Until you find yourself tucked into a corner of the movie theater, your back quite literally up against the wall, and Steve Harrington so close that every time he breathes his chest brushes yours.

“What was your favorite part?”

He’s got you, you both know it. You could give some basic, generic answer and have a pretty good shot of it being right, but Steve knows you better. He knows that after a movie you’re able to give detail about it, and right now you couldn’t do that if your life depended on it.

You open your mouth to make up some bullshit answer, then close it again. It doesn’t matter though, he’s pushing you further into the wall and leaning down to let his lips touch the shell of your ear before you can comprehend what’s happening.

“Was it when you were watching me chew on twizzlers? Or when I tugged your hand into my lap and laid it on my thigh? Or was it when I stretched and my shirt rode up a little bit, hm?”

If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated—though you’re sure that’ll come later. There’s a pounding in your ears and you know it can’t be normal for your heart to beat this fast. He pulls back just a fraction to look at you and you know it’s written all over your face. Desperation and embarrassment and want.

“Speak up, baby.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes darting between his and the smirk he’s wearing while you try and come up with something—anything to say. But your mind is filled with him. Thoughts of him and his hands and the way he smells and the way his jaw flexes when he chews. The way his thighs fill his jeans so nice it makes your head swim and the way his hair does still curl at the nape of his neck like he knows you love.

“All of it.” It’s breathless and quiet and if it wasn’t practically on top of you, he wouldn’t have heard it. But he did, loud and clear. You can tell by the way his eyes widen a little bit and that sick smile that you’ve become obsessed with grows.

He nods at you like he knew that already, and he probably did. Taking your hand in his once again and all but peeling you from the wall. Your frustration grows when he’s quiet on the drive home, humming along to the music and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s quiet when you get out and walk towards your front door. He’s quiet when he presses a sweet, innocent kiss to your cheek before telling you goodnight and walking back to his car.

Despite an attempt to calm yourself down you’re pretty sure you stomp up the stairs to your room, ripping off your clothes and slipping on one of Steve’s shirts that you stole from him years ago.

There’s papers from your physics class scattered over your bed from a sad attempt at studying over break and even though you know you won't be able to focus, you sit yourself down in the middle of them again and try to focus on the words staring back at you.

Anything is better than thinking about Steve and his stupid strawberry lips and his stupid hair that’s so soft and feels so good when it’s threaded through your fingers. Your phone is lying somewhere on the floor, ears perked and waiting for the tell tale buzz of a text or call.

But you hear nothing. Glaring down at your physics notes like they’ve offended you and feeling the urge to burn them or throw them across the room or rip them to shreds for not doing their job in distracting you. There’s no telling how much time has passed, ten minutes or an hour, you have no idea. But when the creak of your window opening has you almost jumping up and running towards it like a dog when their owner gets home from work.

Acting indifferent is pointless, he saw your true feelings plain as day earlier and you don’t have the energy or the heart to act like you’re not ecstatic at the thought of him coming back for you.

He pulls himself through with little effort, like he’s done it a thousand times—and he has. He carries himself across your room with confidence and ease and it makes your heart skip a beat. He hasn’t changed clothes and you wonder if he even made it home before he decided to turn back around.

Neither of us say anything, not when he takes my stack of notes and moves them to the desk across the room, not when he kicks off his shoes and climbs on the bed, our knees pressed against each other. I watch him take me in, doing a double take at what I’m wearing before he looks back to me again.

The tension between us fills the entire room, and even though we both obviously want it, maybe we’re also a little scared of when it finally snaps.

Steve

I think that I’ve been holding my breath since I realized it was my shirt that was hanging off her shoulder and making my mouth water at the thought of biting into the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. If you’re wearing shorts—or anything—underneath, I can’t tell and it’s making my throat dry.

It only took me just about four minutes of driving before I turned my ass around and all but sped back to her house. I climbed up and through her window without even thinking about it, like it was muscle memory.

“Steve…are you okay?”

Despite the genuine concern I hear in her voice, I can’t bring myself to move. I can’t imagine how I look right now, jaw dropped a little and eyes trained on my shirt draped over your thighs. My mouth is moving but nothing is coming out and if I look how I feel, it’s like a fish out of water.

We’ve been to the movie together countless times, but feeling her watch me the whole time, lip taken between her teeth and thighs squeezing together when I would move or grab her hand…it drove me fucking crazy. I love the back and forth between us, love the build up, but having her pressed against me and all but panting in my ear was my fucking breaking point.

My eyes only leave her when I feel a hand—her hand—on my thigh, the touch burning through my jeans and I know we both feel the way I twitch under her palm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet. Is anyone home?” Her head ducks down to meet my eyes and I manage to huff out a small laugh that makes the furrow of her brows ease a little.

“Shirt.” For some reason that’s the only word that slips out of my mouth and I curse myself for sounding like such an idiot. Shirt? Really? It only seems to amuse her though, maybe confuse her a little as she looks between my shirt and hers—mine—before she realizes what I mean and blinks up at me sheepishly.

“Shirt.” Parroting my words back to me, we sit in silence for a few seconds before she continues and I feel my cock twitch in my jeans at the admission. “I know it’s yours it’s just…it’s become a bit of a thing for me I guess. It helps me sleep.” Her shoulders shrug like it’s no big deal but her eyes won’t meet mine anymore.

The back and forth in my head lasts all but three seconds before I’m reaching forward and fisting the material of my favorite shirt I thought that I had lost years ago and tugging her forward so she’s half on the bed, half in my lap.

She might gasp at the sudden movement but I can’t be sure when all I can hear is a pounding in my ears. Our foreheads are touching, noses rubbing together and mouths open as we sit there. Nobody moves, both of us waiting for the other to push forward. With the way I have the material fisted in my hand, the neck of the shirt is pulled away and a quick glance down shows she’s not wearing a bra under the shirt either. And even though I knew that, her pebbled nipples—from me or the cool air—cause a groan to work its way up my throat and I close my eyes in what must look like agony.

It is agony. Her smooth skin exposed to me, her warm breath fanning across my face and her eyelashes fluttering as we stay pressed together. I take another quick peek, tongue darting out to swipe across my bottom lip subconsciously and she fucking giggles when she notices. “Perv.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re right.”

I’m worried she might be pulling away from me when I see her hands lift, but that worry is washed away when her palm presses to the nape of my neck, bringing her lips so close to mine they brush each other when we breathe.

“Christ—are you gonna kiss me or not?” She sounds frustrated, almost as frustrated as I feel having her this close to me and not tasting her.

“I’m thinking about it.” And I have been for years. Probably will for years after this. Fuck I’ll be thinking about kissing her until I die.

“What’s it gonna take for you to do it?” Despite the edge to her voice, the glimmer in her eye tells me that she’s enjoying this just as much as I am. The back and forth that feels like torture but somehow also feels so fucking good.

“Beg.” Beg. I’m telling her to beg as if I’m not seconds away from slipping off the bed and to my knees, praying to her or to whoever she wants that I get to touch her or taste her or do whatever the hell she wants. I sound like an asshole, a smug one, and it’s slipping. I’m seconds away from giving her anything she wants.

Her eyes widen, a glimpse of what I recognize as defiance flashing in them and it makes my heart race a little faster—if that’s possible. But then she glances down at my lips, slick and shiny with spit and practically begging for her and I see her resolve slipping as fast as mine.

Hand slipping from the nape of my neck, she brings them around and it’s her turn to twist her hands into my shirt, yanking me with force I didn’t know she had and it feels so close, so good as if we’re sharing the same breath. “Please, Steve. I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. I need it. Need you. Please kiss me.”

It feels like every part of me is on fire, her eyes wide and pleading and I have to hold back a whimper at the sincerity of her voice, like she really does need it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t push my luck.

“You sound awfully desperate, princess.” Despite the words coming out of my mouth, it doesn’t come out teasing like I hoped. It comes out in a whine that has me throbbing helplessly.

My hands are on her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there to ground me and I choke on a gasp when she moves her hands upward to cup my jaw. “Oh I am but…” Her words trail off, hanging in the air between us and I think I black out when her thumb comes to swipe over my bottom lip, my mouth opening automatically. We’re so close I don’t need to look to see if she’s smirking, I can feel it.

My lips close around her thumb, humming pathetically when I feel her press down on my tongue. My eyes are closed and I’m positive there will be little bruises from the way my fingertips are grabbing at her thighs. “It seems like you’re just as desperate as me, pretty boy.”

With a pop she slips her thumb from my mouth and I groan at the loss but before I can say anything she’s closing the distance between us, soft lips meeting my damp ones like our lives depend on it. I moan into her mouth as soon as I get a taste of the cherry lip gloss she must have been wearing earlier today.

The need to be closer to her is overwhelming, so much so that I startle us both when I push her back, mouths connected the whole time and cradle my hand on the back of her head when she falls against her pillows. Her legs spread for me with ease, thighs wrapped around my hips and pulling me into her.

“Not the first time you’ve been on top of me like this.” She pulls away just enough to mumble the words before she’s kissing me again, quick and hurried like I would ever go anywhere when I have her underneath me like this. Like I would ever go anywhere at all.

“And please god don’t let it be the last.” There’s a small chuckle that falls from her lips but it’s cut off with a gasp when I push my hips forward, the bulge in my jeans very apparent. It’s also clear she’s not wearing shorts. I can feel the warmth of her through her flimsy underwear and it makes my head spin.

There’s a string of spit connecting us when I pull myself off of her the slightest bit, my arms somehow holding me above her even though my whole body feels weak and pliant from her touch. Looking down, I could fucking cry from the sight of her. Swollen lips that are slick with our spit, glossy eyes and a flush that follows the curve of her neck and rests against her cheeks so pretty.

Without the distraction of her lips, I thrust my hips forward again and watch as her eyes grow wide and her mouth fall open just slightly at the friction. It does little to ease the discomfort but I keep going anyway, feeling her thighs tighten around my hips and the rise and fall of her chest getting quicker.

She’s making these noises, these little whimpers that make my cock twitch and my arms threaten to give out below me. “I feel like a fucking teenage boy, but it feels too good to stop.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, raspy and desperate and beyond fucked out.

“I don’t wanna cum without really touching you.” I almost don’t hear her, my eyes roaming her body and landing on where my shirt has ridden up, her inner thighs a little pink from the denim rubbing against them and a wet patch visible on the front of her light green panties that have me taking deep breaths.

But once I do register her words, my eyes fly up to hers and the air around us is still. There’s a twisting in my belly that has my hips stuttering as I search her face to make sure I heard that right. There’s a second where she glances down between us and before I can even wrap my head around what’s happening, I watch her hand slip, skating down over her tits and then her stomach and slipping under the band of her underwear.

“What the fuck.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until she smiles shyly at me as if I can’t see the outline of her hand or the way she’s biting her lip because she’s fucking touching herself right underneath me. I’m like a bobble head with the way I nod back and forth between her face and her covered hand.

This must be a dream. It has to be.

I don’t realize I’ve said that out loud either until there’s a pinch to my thigh that has me yelping, a small pout on my lips as I look down at her. She looks amused and also pleased with herself that she’s got me so scattered right now.

“It is not a dream, Harrington. You are very awake and very much here on top of me making me do all the work.”

My brain is slowly catching up to what’s happening, the reality of it all smacking me across the face when I feel the brush of her knuckles—through her fucking underwear—against my stomach.

“You want me to touch you.” There’s no question. I might be telling myself instead of her at this point, I’m not sure.

“I want you to fuck me, but based on the looks of that—” She makes a pointed glance at my still very prominent bulge that’s pressed against her hip, “you’re gonna need to stretch me out a little first.”

Maybe it's because I’ve finally realized what’s going on. Maybe it’s the cockiness she has right now that, while very fucking hot, I have the urge to wipe off her face. Maybe it’s a mix of the two, because something in me finally clicks.

Balancing on one arm, I bring my pointer and middle finger to hover just over her mouth and smile to myself when she glances between them and my face.

“Get them wet.”

That mask of confidence slips just enough to make me smirk down at her, eyes round and dark as she hesitates. “I don’t think you need the extra help.” I can see her trying to stay ahead, to keep me on my toes with her smart mouth, and it only makes me harder.

Cocking my head to the side, I squint my eyes just so, a silent challenge. “And? Get them wet.” It seems to work this time, her lips falling open and head coming forward to take my fingers into her mouth like it’s second nature. She closes her lips around them without me saying anything and I have to fight off a groan when she lulls her tongue, pulling them in deeper.

I’ve moved off her just enough that when I thrust forward, my hips meet the air. Watching her bob her head on my fingers is maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, thighs twitching and eyes threatening to roll back in my head kind of hot.

The thought crosses my mind to let her keep going, to see how long she’ll go for but my resolve is slipping and the need to feel her is much more overwhelming. I pull my fingers from her with a pop, ears buzzing at the little whine that slips from her.

“Don’t pout, you did the same to me.” Before she can protest I slip my hand between us, pushing her hand away and teasing my fingers under the band of her underwear. I notice the quick intake of breath even though my eyes are trained elsewhere, her hips moving up just slightly so my hand slips further down.

Clicking my tongue at her I move my hand back, fingers ghosting over her clit and I smile to myself at the quiet fuck that tumbles out of her mouth. “Looks like you were right, honey. Don’t think I needed the extra help after all.”

There’s a light shove at my chest and a deep tinge to her cheeks, one arm thrown over to cover her eyes while I take my time feeling every inch of her I can. “Do I have to beg for you to finally just touch me, Harrington?”

While there’s a part of me that wants to hear it, there’s a bigger part of me that wants to reassure her that I’m just as—if not more—desperate for this, for her. I need her to know that even though I’m an asshole, she has me so tightly wound around her finger it’s embarrassing.

“I should be the one begging. I’m so fucking lucky you even want me near you, let alone to touch you. Don’t forget that. I’m the desperate one here, so much so it’s kinda pathetic.”

Instead of letting her say anything I lean forward and give a quick peck to her lips that she chases as I move away, huffing as she falls back against her bed. I take the opportunity to give her what she wants, circling her clit once, twice, three times and basking in the way her hands fist the sheets at her sides.

Her legs fall open, inviting me in and I notice my bottom lip is swollen and sore from biting down on it while I watch her. The feel of her soaking my hand is etched in my brain, the way she rocks against me to guide me where she wants me, the dimple between her brow from the pinched expression she holds while I ease the ache I caused.

It’s when I move my fingers lower that we both seem to be holding our breaths, my eyes on her still clothed cunt and her eyes on me as I slip one finger inside, cursing under my breath at how warm and messy she is.

This time my eyes are trained on her as I curl it forward, her body jolting under me. I do it again just to see the way her neck turns a deeper shade of red and her pleading eyes meet mine. It only takes a few minutes before I slip in another, groaning at the lack of resistance.

“Look at you, taking it like a champ.” Despite the way she rolls her eyes at me, we both know she can’t hide the way she pulsed around my fingers at the comment.

She opens her mouth to say something, probably telling me shut up or fuck off, but I cut her off with another curl of my fingers, her hand leaving the sheets and moving to grip my arm instead. “Fuck, Steve.” It’s breathless and needy and has my whole body feeling like it’s on fire. My jeans are tight and the zipper is digging into my cock in a way that has my hand twitching.

But I keep going.

“Yeah?”

“You had the right idea, no way could you fit me without this.”

“Are you gonna clean up the mess you’re making on my hand?”

I’ve lost control of my mouth, saying the first thing that comes to my mind while I watch her thighs start to shake, closing around my wrist. Her nails are digging into my arm hard and it’s making me throb.

“I don’t…I just…I want—”

My thumb on her clit while my fingers pump into her has her turning her head to the side to try and bury her face in the pillows. “Cmon, princess. Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t wanna cum on your fingers!” It comes out in a whine and my hand stills, pulling out of her slowly and watching her pout up at me. “What do you want then?” I’m enjoying this way too much to just give in now when she’s right on the edge.

“You know.” I do.

“I don’t.” Liar.

“Liar.”

I smirk at her, finally unzipping my jeans to get an inch of relief and feeling giddy over the hopeful look she casts my way when she notices what I’m doing.

“Do you really wanna keep going back and forth or do you just want to tell me?” She’s trying to look mean and I shouldn’t laugh but the little scowl she’s giving me is just so fucking adorable that I can’t help it.

She swats at my arm, hooking her finger in one of the belt loops of my jeans and giving it a small tug while she looks around the room like the answer is written on the walls. “Your cock, I guess.”

“You guess?” God if I was her I would have smacked the shit out of me by now.

“I know.”

“You just want to get into my pants.” I feign offence, a hand on my chest and a fake frown that I know doesn’t conceal the smugness in my eyes.

“Well I’m trying.” That gets a laugh out of me, a loud one that turns into giggles as I lean down to press sloppy kisses over her cheeks and forehead and tip of her nose.

She leaves a playful nip to my chin as I pull back, letting some stray strands of hair fall against my forehead as I hold my still damp fingers in front of her mouth for the second time.

“Clean up your mess first.”

This time without hesitation or back talk, she listens. Her mouth is warm and she’s messy with it as she licks my fingers clean, when she’s satisfied with her work she moves her head back to swipe her tongue against my palm. She cocks a brow at me as if to say “happy?” and I can’t help but nod at her.

Feeling impatient I push myself off the bed, standing beside it and all but ripping my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me. I pause only once to nod towards her, “yours too, please” it’s low and muffled but she hears me anyways, lifting up to take off my shirt and I will myself to look away or else i'll never get these pants off.

Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and boxers, I drag them down, hissing at the slap of my cock against my lower belly, the cool air sending chills over me. He swears he hears you moan but chooses to ignore it in fear of cumming untouched.

It’s quiet in the room and I feel her gaze burning into me. I take the opportunity to do the same, finally letting myself take all of her in and my knees threaten to buckle at the sight. Her tits are round and full and I swear they’ll fit perfectly in the palm of my hands. Her stomach is soft and I feel the urge to lay down between her thighs and bite into it over and over again.

“I think you’re drooling.” Her words are quiet and breathless and we both notice the way my cock throbs under her stare.

“I think you are too.”

Before I can move she’s reaching into her bag on the floor, pulling out a condom and I gape at her when she tugs me forward by grabbing the back of my thigh. She mumbles something under her breath about wanting to put it on but I’m too busy fighting the urge to cum at the touch and fighting the flare of jealousy that rushes through me as she slips it over me effortlessly.

Although most of that jealousy is soothed, wiped away when she leans forward to press a kiss to my hip, scattering them across my lower belly and to the other side.

“How do you want to do this, baby?”

I watch her glance down at my cock then back up a few times, mulling over in her head and I find it endearing. God I’m a freak. “I think I wanna be on top.” And it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and worship her, the thought of you on top of him enough to have him leaking into the condom already.

It takes a little moving around but soon he’s sitting with his back flush against the headboard, legs out in front of him with you perched on his thighs.

“You’re calling the shots, pretty girl. We go at your pace.” I see some of the nerves evaporate and a sense of pride tickles my chest. He likes being the one to soothe you.

But any thought I had left in my head is gone when she scoots up, hovering over my aching cock with a shyness that has me smearing our lips together so hard our teeth knock against each other.

A wordless nod is all it takes for her to reach between us and take the base in her hand, a hitch in my breath at the contact. She paints me up and down before the tip catches and I swear a vein in my neck is threatening to pop.

“Please.” The breathless plea comes from me and she takes mercy on me, lowering herself down so slowly I swear she isn’t moving at all. It’s so much, so good that I don’t know how I’m supposed to hold off at all.

She has her hands on my shoulders and I tilt my head to leave reassuring kisses to the inside of her wrists the whole time. What could be minutes or hours—he’s not sure he even knows where he is anymore—passes and the next time I manage to peel my eyes open she’s fully seated on me, little beads of sweat on her forehead and a flush on her chest.

“Are you okay?” My eyes squeeze shut when she huffs a laugh, clenching around me.

“Don’t let this go to your head, but fuck, you’re big.”

“Too late.” God I know I must look like the most smug asshole that’s ever walked the planet.

Raising off me just a little, my whole body tenses when she shifts back down. The pressure, the heat, the slickness is making my head feel fuzzy in the best way possible. I let her find her pace, my hands on her hips helping to guide her and I’m humiliated when I feel that twinge at the base of my spine already.

“I need—talk to me, please.”

Pulling her so our chests are flush together, the change in position must be good because she gasps against me, face nuzzled into my neck while I whisper in her ear.

“There it is, yeah? This sweet little cunt is hugging me so tight, no ones ever felt this good, no one ever will.” I have just enough room to thrust up into her, her hands tugging at the curls at the nape of neck when I steady my pace.

“My perfect fucking girl, you know that? Been thinking about this, about you for years.” Her mouth is hanging open, warm breath hitting my throat with every little pant and moan that slips past her lips.

With every thrust I feel her nipples drag against my chest, her arms wound around my neck so tight it’s almost suffocating—but in the best way. I feel her flutter around me when she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to her forehead from sweat. “I need—d-drawer.”

I reach over blindly, tearing open her nightstand and pulling things out before I even know what she wants. Still holding onto me she leans over, her hand swatting mine away and finding what she needs in seconds. A small, silver little thing—what I would assume would be a tube of lipstick if I didn't know better.

Jesus fucking Christ.

There’s a sense of pride at how unashamed she looks, confident in what she wants. I feel lightheaded at how hot she is, knowing what she needs and not being afraid to ask for it. It makes me twitch inside her.

She cocks a brow at me, probably daring me to say something shitty about her little friend but I just shrug, pulling her back against me and taking the bullet from her hand. “I’ve always been a team player, sweetheart.”

The buzz of the toy coming to life cuts off the eye roll she was giving me and I push her back so I can see where we’re connected. I’m not prepared for the way she clenches around me when I press it against her clit, my body jolting underneath her and moans so loud our chests rumble coming from the both of us.

It feels unbearably hot in the room, the smell of sex and sweat filling the space and making it hard to breathe. But that only makes it all feel better. Before I know it she’s back to it, lifting herself off and sliding back down while I hold the toy to her clit. The sound of it and our skin meeting enough to have my thighs twitching under her.

“Look at you, bouncing on your best friend's cock. This is what you needed, yeah? A good, sweet girl for everyone but me, right?” She’s too out of it to even care right now, nodding helplessly with her hands on my chest. There’s a stinging there that lets me know I’ll have some red marks tomorrow.

When I start to circle the toy on her clit, she falls forward, our chests pressed together again and her whines more high pitched. “Steve, steve, fuck! M’gonna cum.”

“Should I let you?” I’m bluffing. There’s no way I’d deny her anything right now. An orgasm, a ring, my car. Anything she wants is hers.

“You better.” Despite the attitude in her tone, it occurs to me that if I told her no, she wouldn’t. And that thought alone is enough to have me seconds away myself.

“Go ahead, princess. Be that nice, sweet girl and make a mess of me, please.” It takes one, two, three more thrusts before she’s tightening around me so hard my own orgasm barrels through me before I can stop it. My fingers are digging into her back, hugging her as close to me as possible while she whines and pleads for I don’t know what into my ear.

Holy shit. She’s all but melted into me, her breathing slowing down while I try to determine if I can even use my legs. Her pants and whines turn into small kisses against the shell of my ear, my throat, and my jaw while I curl my hand into her hair.

A small hiss escapes when she pulls off me and I should—but don’t—feel bad about the shit eating grin I know I’m wearing when she loops over at me from where she’s plastered to my side.

“Don’t start, Steve.”

“Well if I remember correctly, and I definitely do—”

Her hand is covering my mouth, face serious but her eyes can’t hide that she’s at least a little amused by me. “Let’s play the quiet game.” She’s no more than taking her hand off my mouth before I’m speaking. “Funny…weren’t you just practically begging me to talk to you?”

“Steve!” I’m laughing as I pull her back on top of me, legs twisted together and her head shaking against my chest as she tries not to laugh. I’m pressing kisses into her hair when she pulls off me, walking away from the bed and shooting me a shy smile over her shoulder when she slides the window shut.

The click of the lock fills the room and and the thud of my pounding heart in my chest fills my ears as she crawls back into bed, snuggling into me and letting her body mold to mine like I’ve dreamed of millions of times over the years.

We don’t say anything, but we don’t need to.

——————————————

His breathing evening out lulls me into sleep, my hand curled against his chest and my leg thrown over his, keeping him tucked up under me.

No matter how many times he proves me wrong, I can’t help but think it’s impossible to love him more. And he always proves me wrong. It’s the kind of love that makes you feel insane because how can I love someone this much?

He’s so good to his core, so attentive and kind to the ones he loves—and those that are nothing but strangers to him. But then he’s cocky and smug and on my last fucking nerve, but still somehow perfect. It’s annoying that someone can be so perfect.

I think it makes sense that we were friends first, that we got to love and know each other in a different way and just fall into the love we have now. Maybe they were always the same kind of love, just from a different perspective.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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reidrum · 1 year ago

Text

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

Whenever the BAU has a case based in the D.C. area, it’s always a little easier on the team. Familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. The hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

Spencer and Callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. The unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. Spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what Garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. Morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. He felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by Hotch and Garcia entering the bullpen.

“Police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. She was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. I think it sounds like our unsub. Morgan and Reid, I need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” Hotch explained.

Morgan and Reid nodded as Garcia spoke up, “I just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on Hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

Spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say Hillcrest, “Did you say Hillcrest?”

“Yeah, Hillcrest Drive. It’s like, a 15 minute drive, not that far.”

He felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. That was the street you lived on. He tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“Garcia, what’s the house number?”

“Reid, I already sent it to your pho-“

“Garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again.

Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say-

“1159.”

Fuck. The color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. Spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you. Last night? This morning? He doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“Reid,” Hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “What is it? What do you know?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

Morgan, Garcia, and Hotch all looked at each other in concern, before Morgan spoke up, “I’ll see what’s up.” The latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

Morgan walked up to the car to find Spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

Spencer was alerted by Morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. Morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“Okay Reid, spill it. It’s obvious you know who lives here.” Morgan speaks up.

“Just drive, please.”

“Because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“Morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

He raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “Listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. I can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

Spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. He’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. After what happened with Maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

Some job he did of that.

The one thing he regrets about how he handled the Maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. For not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. He’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

He loved you so much. You were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. A breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. You were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. He still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“Any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

Tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. If you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

He cleared his throat, and Morgan’s ears perked up, “My uh, my girlfriend lives there. Where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

Morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, Spencer missing the way his face dropped. He tightened his hands on the wheels, and without hesitation he turned the lights and siren on and shifted gears to speed up.

The car pulled onto your street and the first thing Spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. Morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before Spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

He’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know. The tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

He whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. You watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. He’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. He’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“Hi,” you choke out muffled, “Funny seeing you here.”

He pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. His heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“Hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not. But what did the paramedics say? Did they give you anything? Are you sure they checked all your injuries? You know what, let me go call the guy over. I’ll be two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

Upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

You were okay, but at what cost.

The EMT leaves you two and Spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. It’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

Spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. The slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“It’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

You sniffle, “I know, I just can’t believe this happened. To me. To us. It’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“To me? Wh- what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t mean to bring it up again, I just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. I don’t know why this happened, I'm sorry.”

He looked down at you incredulously, genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. It was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “What happened is not your fault, do you understand me? My job is to always worry about you and your safety. When Garcia said the address I…I couldn’t even process it, I don’t even know how I got to the car,” he shook his head, “But I am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. I will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“I love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be SSA Derek Morgan. You knew Spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

Spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “It’s okay, he knows.” You look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“Reid, I already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “Hi Derek, I’ve heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “Listen, I know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “Absolutely not. We can do it later, it’s fine.”

“Reid-“

You look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “Spence, It’s okay. I want to help, please.”

He rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “Okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“Alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” Derek teases.

Spencer groans, “See, this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“You think I’m bad? Wait till Penelope meets her.”

The three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to Spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. You end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. Spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“She’s cute,” Derek starts, “Can I ask how long?”

“Nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“Pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? Maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“Imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “Look.”

Spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and Spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. You’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. The first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. The second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. The last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

The edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. It was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“You look really happy, kid.” Derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. His heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“I am.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction

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meowrimo · 25 days ago

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MAMA. zoro x reader ; fluff, flustered zoro. you find his shirt from water 7 (episode 318) and have some questions. — WC : 911

As you sift through the clothes that you store in your small room on the Thousand Sunny, searching for something suitable to wear for the day out at sea, your eye catches something crumpled in the back corner, hidden under a pile of old t-shirts from adventures past.

It didn’t look familiar to you as you tugged it out of its hiding place, the faded yellow colored baby tee was definitely not yours which could only mean it was one of Zoro's.

But it didn’t seem like something he’d wear.

And, plastered on the front, was the word ‘mama’.

Maybe it belonged to one of the girls?

With a lazy shrug of your shoulders, you throw it on and style it with some cute shorts you had laying around. Once you were satisfied with your look, you made your way out to the deck to see what the crew, and your lover, was up to.

And that’s when you see him, lifting a few dumbbells as he stares across the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. Before you make your presence known, you can’t help but admire his quiet intensity. Each bicep curl falls into rhythm with your heartbeat, the sunlight catching the accumulating sweat on his rippling muscles steals your breath away.

“Hi Zo!” There was a slight bounce in your step as your voice carried across the grassy floor. The sound reaches his ears, commanding his attention as your presence so readily does.

The greeting is not one you expected from him, causing you to freeze right in your tracks. Whenever you popped by when he was training or working out, he’d at least give you a small smile in acknowledgment.

But this? This was very different.

Zoro's eye flew wide open, his face flushing a deeper red with each passing second. Every muscle in his already taut body froze as he gaped at you, his gaze stuck on the shirt you wore.

“You like it?” You’re a bit hesitant as you step forward like a hunter approaches a scared animal, careful not to startle him any further.

“Where did you get that?” The question was flat, shock drenching every syllable. A slight pout forms on his face as he studies you, a glint of concern flickering in his steely eye that you’re not sure how to decipher.

“It was in the back of our wardrobe.” You tilt your head, growing curiouser by the moment. There was something amusing about the way Zoro was looking at you, wide eyed and slack jawed. It was as if you were wearing something completely scandalous – not just a t-shirt. “What's with the reaction?”

“Nothing!” He stands up straighter, trying to clear his throat. Carefully, he sets down his weights before reattaching his swords by his side — no doubt a source of reassuring comfort.

“So, it is yours?” A mischievous smile takes over your face.

“Err—.” He pauses, his fingers run along the hilts of his swords, something he does when he’s a little on edge. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you ever wear it? It was practically shoved away.” Standing before him now, you can see all the different pigments of pink and red blooming across his face. Zoro huffs, brushing past you as he starts walking away.

“It's just a stupid shirt.” The blush on his face was unwavering, the sun only highlighting the effect this conversation was having on him.

“Yet you kept it.” You push, practically skipping behind him as he leads you both to wherever he was headed.

“I forgot about it, alright?” He huffs, looking anywhere else but you and that damn shirt.

“Where’d you even get something like this?” There was no stopping you when you had your mind set on something, and every question you asked only unlocked another.

“Water 7.” Zoro gripped the hilt of the Wado, muscles straining under the interrogation he was trying to flee from.

“And you bought it yourself?” You can almost see it now, Zoro being dragged by Nami into some store and picking up the first thing he could find.

But something tells you that the way he acquired it was a much more interesting story. You were itching to find out.

“Not exactly.” You go to open your mouth but he beats you to it, spinning around to finally face you. “No way, I'm not telling you this story.”

“How about a cup of sake and a kiss for your troubles?” Zoro glares at you, clenching his jaw shut. Whatever the origins of this shirt was, he seemed too embarrassed to tell you how he got it but he knew you were teasing. So, you sweeten the deal. “Or you can show me how much you dislike it by tearing it off of me. Your choice.”

Before he has a chance to bark something back, Robin rounds around to where the two of you were headed. She gives a small, sweet smile, her eyes blinking shut in contentment. The calm before the storm.

“How sweet of you to let them wear your shirt, Zoro.” She says, her voice light yet monotone. “All that’s missing are the three babies.”

“The three WHAT?” You and Zoro both yell out in shock, watching as Robin strolls away, her smile curling into something more mischievous. You’re both left there, stunned into silence as a million new questions come to mind about this shirt.

Zoro was definitely going to need that cup of sake now.

thank you for reading :3 !!

#super indulgent and silly and idk ! :3 i hope you enjoy hehehe #◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #🪷 ⊹ ₊ ⋆ 𝑨𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐 .

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rafey-baby · 10 months ago

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outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

c/w: rafe being manipulative, mentions of murder & violence, he’s also weirdly soft in the end? 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

he’s been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

series masterlist

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

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the door at 3 am—revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving while he looks down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg. And at first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.

She’s about to open her mouth— unsure whether to scream for help or simply stare with her mouth hung open in shock, but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting his massive palm over her lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to move a muscle— the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose and making her face scrunch up.

She doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blames it on the fact that half her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland— soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars.

And he’s just so mean, manhandling her to his liking and ordering her around with a gun to her head; grumbling about needing a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught since apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.

“Didn’t mean to kill the guy, alright? He jus’ kept bein’ a bitch ‘n pissin’ me off— I mean, I was, uh, I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?”

However, his explanation seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage; loud enough for him to hear and earning her an exasperated roll of his eyes.

“M’takin’ a shower now ‘n you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do…m’gonna have to— m’gonna hurt you ‘n I don’t wanna do that, okay?”

She merely nods her head, unable to string together a coherent sentence, and he takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he takes a step closer. “You, uh, you live alone?”

She offers another nod of her head.

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knockin’ on your door in the middle of the night you don’t— you don’t fuckin’ open, alright?”

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.

However, the second he’s in the bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think— hurriedly coming up with a rickety plan while she listens to the water streaming behind the door. She waits for only a a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear before she’s bolting towards her bedroom; trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.

Unfortunately, her shaky hands aren’t of any help when they clumsily drop the phone— the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room. And suddenly she can’t breathe.

Her brain short-circuits as she bends down in an attempt to reach for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off— an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she attempts to turn the phone back on and call for help, but it’s proving to be rather difficult since her lungs aren’t working and her heartbeat is ringing in her ears.

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her flinch; a faint gasp leaving her while a shiver travels down her spine.

“Why’d you jus’ do that, huh? Told you I didn’t wanna— didn’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you ‘n then you go ‘n pull this shit,” a strong hand grips her by her throat when he turns her around to face him.

“M’sorry, I— I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, respiration shallow while her blood runs cold.

“You don’t what, hm?” he stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seeming to be entirely indifferent to her torment.

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible.

A grim chuckle bubbles from his chest in response. “Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” he scoffs, cruel words mocking her.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid— want me to kill you? That what you want?” he grits out, squeezing her neck harder; making her feel dizzy.

“No! No, please. M’sorry…m’sorry, won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages out, desperately gasping for air because he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.

“Anythin’ huh? That’s, uh, tha’s real temptin’ ‘n all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you get that?”

“I won’t, I promise. You can, um, stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s going to pass out soon— little stars already peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs beginning to feel heavy.

His coarse panting fills the room while he seems to contemplate her offer. “If you even think about runnin’ to the cops tonight, m’gonna fuckin’ find you, you understand?”

She frantically nods and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back in an attempt to even out her respiration.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— silently observing her while she clears her throat and swallows a few times, trying to pacify her racing heart and the thoughts running around her brain.

Then, she blinks up at him, noticing how he smells like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo— nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.

Once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, she tries a different approach; a nervous hesitation overlaying her creaky question. “What’s, um…what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses her. However, when a small pout begins to mold her mouth the longer she stares at him, he lets out a discontented huff.

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless, and he can’t help but laugh at her priorities— a literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?”

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she figures that if she gets him to talk about something else, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.

“You seriously wanna know?” he raises his brows.

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on a shake of her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“So, uh— what do you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” she tries once more.

“Listen, the less you know, the better, alright?” he states, causing her to let out a soft sigh in defeat when all of a sudden, thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.

She flinches at the sound and the nearly sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.

“You scared of a little storm?” he feigns concern as he peers down at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” the mocking grin plastered on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows—wishing this was all just a really bad nightmare.

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

After the little incident, Rafe thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.

And he can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered and doted on— to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. It makes him figure he’s gonna enjoy his stay just fine.

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to him— pointing his gun at him.

He lets out a sigh, softened bones mellow from sleep while he rubs at his eyes and shifts to a seated position on the couch— teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. “Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Tryin’ to be all tough now, are we?”

“I— I want you to leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.

And he’s trying to take her seriously, he really is, but it’s proving to be rather difficult when she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should, uh, work on your pitch a little more? M’not very convinced,” the lazy smile tugging at his mouth makes her brows crease.

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face.

He thinks she looks rather adorable. “Come on, pup, you’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” his voice is even, and it makes her hesitate.

“Well…it can’t be that complicated?” it’s more of a question than a statement and he lets out a humored chuckle in response. Her frown deepens.

“Why don’t you give that to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience, would break ya, you’re too soft for that shit.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet, taking a slow step towards her, making her squeeze the weapon tighter in her trembling fingers.

“If— if I give it to you…you’re gonna— you’re gonna kill me and I don’t wanna die,” her words are rushed, hysterical.

His brows furrow. “Who said anythin’ about killin’ you? Listen, if you give me the gun right now, m’not gonna do anythin’. You have my word, okay?” he towers over her, solid chest grazing the barrel.

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.

“I know, pup…but I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a stark contrast to her own when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.

“There we go, no need to be so, uh, so fuckin’ theatrical, yeah?” he lowers his face in order to lock eyes with her. “See? Not hurtin’ you, am I?”

She manages out a hum of agreement, and then her waterline is brimming with salty droplets as she chokes out a sob. “M’sorry. I don’t—”

“Hey, hey s’all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” he says before his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster, and for some reason it only makes her weep harder.

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt while his big paws rub against her back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And she thinks it’s almost…comforting when he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.

“There you go, just, uh, let it all out ‘n maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You pogues can be so fuckin’ dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a fuckin’ crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form before pushing her back to stumble on her feet— setting the gun back onto the coffee table with a clank.

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kiemiu · 7 months ago

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more boyfriend chris headcanons | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 911 (library) + (request)

boyfriend!chris whose first instinct is to protect you. whenever there's a loud sound nearby, he's quick to pull you into him and cradle your head. if there's someone being creepy nearby and he notices that you're uncomfortable around them, he'll pull you behind him, gently rubbing his thumb against your wrist to soothe your worries, and remind you that he's there and that you have nothing to worry about.

boyfriend!chris who gets cuteness aggression around you. he just can't help it. all you have to do is simply exist around him and he's suddenly squealing like a kid in a candy store. he'll latch onto you like a leach and start swinging you around while nuzzling his head into your neck and 'unintentionally' cooing at you in a baby voice.

boyfriend!chris who is the best gossip buddy. anytime you give him a certain look, he knows he's in for a good tea session. the both of you will sit and gossip about other couples, and people you met in passing for hours. he always has the inside scoop on something, and whenever his ears happen to catch onto some extra juicy drama, you're the first person he'll run to yap about it with. he's actually the biggest gossip, and truthfully most of his friends aren't safe, because as soon as they say "can i tell you a secret? you can't tell anyone else though." he immediately excuses you and his brothers from that statement, cause his ears are yours.

boyfriend!chris who adores your laugh. he's suddenly the biggest comedian whenever he's around you. always cracking jokes, and throwing in one-liners into every conversation the two of you have just so he can hear you laugh. he adores it so much, and some of his favorite moments consist of just the two of you together in the quiet confines of his room, crying laughing at stupid memes.

boyfriend!chris who won't leave your side when you're sick. as soon as he gets word that you're feeling unwell, he's doing everything in his power to help you get back to health. he'll look up every method on the internet to help you, almost to the point it becomes overwhelming. after he sets you up with blankets, medicine, and you're well fed, he'll sit by the side of your bed and will refuse to leave you alone.

boyfriend!chris who loves to play online games with you. he'll buy a nintendo switch just to play your favorite games with you like animal crossing, and mario kart. other times, he'll beg matt to let you use his pc which he does most of the time, but for everyone's convenience, chris ended up buying you a new pc so he could play games with you whenever. he'll play all types of video games with you, going from scary, to adventure, to mystery. he'll play it all, your discord calls probably go up to being 8 hours long with the amount of games you play in one sitting. he'll also def try to get you into fortnite, and will most-likely carry you throughout most matches, he still wouldn't choose anyone else to duo with.

boyfriend!chris who remembers the little things. any allergy you have, your favorite desserts, your biggest fears, all of it is stored in the back of his mind. he could name any fact about you in an instant, he can tell you things that you don't even remember telling him. it's honestly a bit surprising but it always makes you feel seen as his partner. he pays attention to everything you do and say, even the smallest of habits.

boyfriend!chris who makes an effort of making time for you. he always sets aside time for you. he's a busy guy with a full schedule, so whenever he has some free time to spare, he'll plan something for the both of you to do together. he turns his phone off when he's out with you just incase someone tries to cut in on that time. if someone tries to sway his decision of doing something else instead of being with you, he'll shoot it down immediately. always saying something along the lines of "i gotta get back home to my baby."

boyfriend!chris who calls you his wife. before you even started dating he called you his girlfriend, but now that you're actually a couple, he calls you his wife. he always uses you as an excuse, saying things like "ahh, the wife's not gonna like this one." and "my wife said i should be back home by 9 'cause she's cooking dinner tonight." when in reality you never said those things, he just wants to get back home to you. on other occasions he just likes to do it because he fully believes in having that future with you. "happy wife, happy life."

boyfriend!chris who loves you for not judging him. chris always feels like people look at him a little differently from his brothers. he falls under people's scrutiny all the time for being weird, loud, annoying, and as much as he likes to pretend that those comments don't hurt him, they really do. so, you've become a personal safe-haven for him. whenever he starts to feel beaten down by the ruthlessness of people's opinions he always goes to you for comfort. he doesn't feel lonely or isolated anymore knowing that you see him for him.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow

#sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagines #christopher sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo headcanons #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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koyagifs · 3 months ago

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━━━ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

━━━ 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 ━━━

pairing: love & deepspace x reader au: non mc genre: angst with comfort | part two of almost is never enough synopsis: a series from the boys where they pick mc over you. warning(s): cursing, mentions of wound, death ( major character!)

all i wanted | sylus ft. rafayel | wc: 2.4k | release date: 4. 25.25 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ think of me when you’re out there

bubblegum brain | xavier ft. sylus | wc: 1.4k | release date: 4.24.25 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ everything's on fire, panic in the streets.

brutal | zayne ft. caleb | wc: 2.3k | release date: 4.23.25 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ im so insecure, i think that i’ll die before i drink

wicked witch of the westside | rafayel ft. xavier | wc: 1.1k | release date: 4.22.25 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ oh, what a pity you say you miss me now

911 | caleb ft. zayne | wc: 2k | release date: 4.21.25 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ he knows that im love sick, he kissed me and promise i will be alright. we both know it’s bullshit

taglist is CLOSED! please leave a comment to be added <3 (please specify if you’ll like to be tagged in all or a certain li)

#caleb lads angst #rafayel lads angst #xavier lads angst #sylus lads angst #zayne lads angst #lads angst

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reidology13 · 6 months ago

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meet me in the hallway - chapter one

Spencer Reid x fem victim!reader

cw: fluff, angst, attempted murder, drug use, drug addiction, hospitals, badly written withdrawal, bad parenting mention, gambling mention, set around season 4, that's it I think wc: 2.6k a/n: this is the first part of a fairly short series I have planned for the next while, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You registered the blood before you felt the pain. The beat of the music pumped the blood through your veins, sweat hanging in the air alongside the cloying scent of perfume.

You popped a pill into your mouth, unsure what it was or where it had come from, stumbling over to the bar for a shot of vodka to wash it down. You’d just made it to the bar when a man shoved past you, hitting you roughly in the torso. You could tell something was off by the way that the pressure lingered after he had walked away. Your hand reached for the feeling, trying to figure out what was causing it, and found an odd, slightly sticky liquid soaking your dress.

You cringed, pulling your hand back to look at it, expecting to see nothing, the clear remnants of a sugary cocktail spilt on your dress. Instead, you were faced with a darkness painting your palms, and even then it took you a moment to realise what it was, the coloured lights altering its appearance. When you did recognise it, the pain still lagged, and you wondered if the plethora of drugs in your system were acting as an anaesthetic.

You stumbled outside, growing lightheaded from the blood loss, holding your hand over the wound to stifle the seemingly endless stream of blood that flowed between your fingers. You flipped open your phone, about to call 911, when, finally, the pain hit. Something between the blood loss, the drugs, and the excruciating pain you were in sent your head spinning towards the ground, and the last thing you remembered before you passed out was the thought that you were never going to wake up.

.*☆¸•

You did, however, and when you regained consciousness, you were lying down in a hospital bed, the sharp, sanitised smell instantly recognisable. You had spent enough early mornings recovering from exceptionally dangerous highs to know your way around most of the hospitals in the Upper East Side with your eyes closed. Which, at the time, they were. When you did open them, you regretted it immediately, squinting against the blinding whiteness of the room in an attempt to see your surroundings. There was someone sitting next to your bed, a blurry figure that you were sure you had never seen before. You blinked repeatedly until your vision cleared slightly, and you were faced with a greasy mop of hair, underneath which might have been a man.

“You’re awake.” He sounded too relieved to be a stranger, and you momentarily questioned if you were suffering from amnesia. Then you saw the badge attached to his belt, which made a lot more sense as a reason to be invested in your wellbeing.

“What happened?” You rubbed at your eyes with a shaking hand, trying to ward off the headache that was already forming in the harsh light. You were surprised by how fine you felt, given the fact that your most recent memory was of being covered in blood.

“Well, you were stabbed two days ago by a serial killer. You’re lucky, he’d been shooting his victims until now. He needed to be closer to his victims, and he made a mistake.” The man leaned towards you, his features growing clearer with proximity.

“Oh. Who are you?” You weren't quite prepared to process just how close to death you had really been just yet. Changing the topic seemed to be the only way to postpone the impending interview that would force you to face it.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI.” The way his voice went up as he spoke was a little bit annoying, and wasn’t doing anything to help the steady throbbing in your skull. Scratch your original plan of postponing the serious talk, you wanted to get everything over and done with as fast as possible so that you could get some rest.

“Well, I didn’t really notice at first, he knocked into me. I didn’t feel any pain ‘cause, fuck-” You groaned, a painful shiver running down your spine.

“Yes, they found GHB, cocaine, methamphetamines, and alcohol in your system. That pain you're feeling right now is withdrawal, something I’m guessing you haven’t felt before.” Despite his words, his voice carried none of the sympathy or disgust you would have suspected from someone like him. It didn’t feel like a judgement, but an acknowledgement of how hard it was: it was understanding.

“That… that makes sense.” Your thoughts were foggy, stopping just before they were fully formed, leaving incomplete puzzles with a single piece missing, words without any vowels. Enough that everything you said or felt was left wanting.

“Since you’re the only person so far to survive him, you’re the best witness we have. You’re also the most at risk.” He paused, and you took the chance to butt in, asking the question that seemed the most pertinent before you could forget it.

“What do you mean, ‘at risk’?” You grumbled, the roughness of your voice doing its best to cover up the genuine curiosity in your tone. This was a negotiation, no matter what he said, and you knew negotiations. If your father had taught you one good thing, it was that you never showed anyone your hand. Technically, at the time that hadn’t been metaphorical, he had been teaching you how to play poker at the ripe age of six.

“There’s a fairly significant chance that he’ll come back, try and finish the job. If he finds out you’re still alive, that is.” He said it like it wasn’t anything at all, like it wasn’t the most terrifying thing you had ever been told, just common sense. To him, you supposed it was.

“He’s going to try and kill me again?” There went keeping your cards to your chest. Whose voice was going up now, huh? To be fair, he hadn’t just been told that he was the target of a serial killer who had just landed him in the hospital by stabbing him.

“If you’re willing to do exactly what I say, then no.” His tone had gained a seriousness that it had been lacking before, and maybe that was what had been annoying you, because it was suddenly mostly bearable.

“And so, your plan is for us to…” You trailed off, painfully aware of your loss of footing in the conversation. Again, only one of you was coming down from a high while also healing from a stab wound, and you felt that it was deeply unfair of him to use your circumstances to his advantage.

“You and I would stay in an FBI safe house, working on the case and reporting any breakthroughs back to my team until they find and arrest him.”

“Safe house?” You baulked, “Like, stuck inside with you all of the time, no going out, no fun? That kind of safe house?” The thought of it sent a shiver of anxiety and apprehension through you. For one, you didn’t know this man, and you would be locked in a small space with him for who knew how long, you could only imagine all of the gross habits he had. He probably didn’t wash his hands after going to the toilet.

To be completely fair, you had snorted coke off of a public toilet roll holder before, so you couldn’t really judge him when it came to hygiene. That brought you to your second problem with the propositioned arrangement: any time spent in the safe house was time where you would be fully, stone-cold, sober. It wasn’t a feeling you were particularly accustomed with, nor was it one you wanted to be.

“If by ‘fun,’ you mean what I think you mean, then yes. Personally, I’m sure that we, if you agree to help, will have plenty of fun while we’re there. More importantly, I’m sure we will solve the case.” He spoke like he was trying to sell you something, like you really had a choice at all in the matter. Death or time in a house with some guy. The answer was pretty straight forward.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be your witness.” You conceded, hoping that your agreement would be enough to make him go away for a while. If you were going to spend the next however long with him, you would like to take the short span of time you had as a free woman and keep it to yourself.

He did, standing up and silently leaving the room, as well as you to your own thoughts. You hoped that they would report you as dead on the news, that they wouldn’t tell your parents what was going on. A little bit because you wanted to scare them, make them care about you for a moment. Mostly because it sounded fucking hilarious.

.*☆¸•

You didn’t have to wait long for your answer, depending on what we’re going to consider a long period of time. It was only a few days that you spent in the hospital, but they were painful, and to be completely honest, fucking terrifying. It was like a four day fever, but with added muscle spasms, constant paranoia, and anxiety unlike anything you’d ever felt before. No matter how stretched out those days felt, the moment the time came to leave, it felt as though you’d only been given a few minutes to prepare yourself mentally. Spencer walked into your room on the third day, bringing with him two other people, one was a man you had never seen before, while the other was a woman you’d seen outside your room on your first day at the hospital. Well, technically, your third. Spencer introduced you, although you were sure they both already knew your name, and probably all of your darkest secrets. Then he turned back to you, gesturing to the duo as he introduced them.

“This is Aaron Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau. They’ll be our point of contact while we work on your case.” Aaron nodded simply, and Jennifer offered a wave alongside a short greeting.

“Hi.” You waved back weakly, your arm aching with the movement. Jennifer gave you a kind, if not slightly pitying, smile as you dropped your arm with a wince. She seemed nice, but you were glad that it wasn’t her you were sharing the safe house with.

“Call me JJ, I’m the media liaison with the BAU, so I’ll be in charge of keeping the media from endangering you by reporting your survival.” She took a few steps forward, standing directly in front of you, and you could tell she was expecting you to ask questions. Luckily for her, you actually had one.

“What will my parents get told?” You tried not to sound too anxious for an answer, knowing that she would assume you wanted them told the truth of your circumstances.

“Due to the fact that you're not a minor, we have no legal reason to tell them. So unless there are any extenuating circumstances we’re unaware of, they will be told that you are dead. I know that might be hard for-” You cut her off before she could continue to believe that either party cared about the situation.

“Good, I don’t want them to know.” You spoke bluntly, a clear statement, leaving no room for questions or misunderstandings. JJ stepped back, taking your words as her sign to leave.

The man didn’t speak, simply standing beside Spencer as the number of people in the room dropped from four to three. There was silence for a while, none of you willing to speak and break it. Eventually, Spencer must have decided it had been long enough, clearing his throat in that pointed way people think is subtle, and glanced over at the man – Agent Hotchner, you reminded yourself.

“We’ll check in on you via phone calls regularly, so that you can update us on the case and tell us what you need delivered to the safe house.” Spencer had already told you that, but you didn’t say anything, just nodding and thanking him, “Please write down a list of things you want to be moved to the safe house from your apartment.” He handed you a notepad, along with a pencil, and you wrote down all of the basics you could think of, as well as a few less necessary items—well, that depends on the definition of ‘necessary’ we’re using, you value your sanity—including makeup, your violin, books, and a few other hobbies. You gave him the notepad back, before grabbing it again, scribbling down to include your iPod and your headphones. He looked over it, nodded, and walked out of the room without another word. You liked him.

When it was just Spencer and you left in the room, he came and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at you softly.

“How are you? You look a bit better than you have for the past few days.” He was being ridiculously nice and understanding, just like he had been since you’d woken up in the hospital. It made you feel even more guilty for yelling at him the day before when he had come into your room and asked how you were doing. You’d thought it was pretty obvious that the answer was ‘not good’ and made sure to tell him just that, in probably the meanest way possible.

“Yeah, I feel better.” You gave him your weak attempt at a grin, accompanied by a small wince because your whole body ached, that muscle deep ache that sinks its claws into your soul just to ruin your day.

“Good.” He smiled, tight-lipped and stilted, the kind that never appeared on a red carpet or magazine cover, but now that you’d seen it, you decided it definitely needed to.

“When are we going to the safe house?” You kept your eyes on him, waiting for an answer as you pushed yourself up in the bed, sitting with a soft grunt.

“It should be fully set up by now.” He tapped his fingers against the paper thin sheets as he spoke, the constant movement slightly distracting. “Hopefully we’ll be able to go tomorrow after your personal items are moved in.”

“Perfect, this hospital is so not hot.”

“They do have a very good air conditioning system.” You tried—and miserably failed—to hold back a very ungraceful laugh at his words, deciding quite quickly that this was going to be an entertaining few weeks, if nothing else.

“That’s not what I meant.” You winced at the soft pain that reverberated through you alongside your laughter.

“Oh, um, what did you mean?” He was completely oblivious, and seemed rather embarrassed about the fact, you couldn’t help but attempt to comfort him.

“It means, like, something is bad. ‘Hot’ means it’s cool.” You figured any mentions of Paris Hilton would only further confuse him, given how pop culture blind he clearly was.

“Um, okay.” He gave you that awkward smile, waving as he stumbled towards the exit of the room. He looked like he was fairly used to not being in the know, and like that was something he was judged for fairly frequently. You felt a little bad, but more than anything you wanted to be alone, the headache from the previous days creeping back in. So you settled for just being as nice to him as you could, and letting him leave.

“See you tomorrow?” You smiled softly at the sweet face he made, halting on his way out the door to speak again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“See you.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast - Comment to be added <3

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whump-imagines · 2 months ago

Text

Decoration Disaster

Buddie x reader

WC: 1800

Sorry not sorry I couldn't pick a gif.

Reader takes a bad fall but her boys are there to make sure she's okay.

@whumpril day 13 head injury

-------

The phone rang three times before a familiar voice sounded. “911, what's your emergency?”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to explain your predicament. “Hi, Maddie.”

“Y/N?” She asked. “What's going on? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I'm fine,” you started. “I mean… mostly.”

“Are you at home?” Maddie asked.

“Yep. So I was getting some decorations out of the attic because I didn't want to wait for the guys.” You shifted slightly as you explained and a pain shot through your arm. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Ah, shit. Ouch.”

“I'm dispatching the 118. They’ll be there soon,” she said. “What happened?”

“I couldn't see around the boxes and I was just going to set them by the ladder, but I misjudged and I fell through the ladder opening.”

She gasped. “Oh, my god.”

“It's not that bad. I just think I dislocated my shoulder.”

“Help will be there in about two minutes, okay? Are you sure it's just your shoulder? Are you bleeding? Did you hit your head?” She peppered you with questions.

“Uh, not bleeding, I don't think. At least nothing significant. And I'm not sure about my head. Honestly, everything kind of hurts but the shoulder is the worst.”

She kept asking questions and then moved on to some small talk while you waited. Eventually, you heard a key in the front door before it was pushed open.

“Thanks, Mads. They’re here.”

“Y/N! You heard Buck and Eddie both yell as they made their way through the house.

“In here!” You called from the bed.

Buck and Eddie were both beside you a moment later. “Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie winced as he took you in. “What are you doing in here? Maddie said you fell down the attic ladder.”

“I did. But I thought I was fine and I got up and came in here to look in the mirror but then my arm started really hurting, so I sat here.”

“You don't know if you hit your head?” Eddie asked.

“Um, well I wasn't sure…” you felt tears well in your eyes as you stared at your boys. Buck took your hand as Eddie wrapped a BP cuff around your arm. “But the longer I sit here the more everything hurts. And my head really hurts right here.” You pointed to the back or your head just behind your ear.

Hen moved behind you and gently ran her hand over the spot. “Yeah, she's got a good size bump.”

You hiccuped as you tried to keep from sobbing as the pain and panic tried to bubble over.

“Hey,” Buck squeezed your hand to pull your attention to him. “We're here, okay? You're gonna be okay.”

You tried to wipe your face with your good arm. “I-I'm scared,” you admitted quietly.

Buck squeezed your hand. “I know. But we got you, okay?”

You sniffled. “‘Kay.”

“BP and heart rate are a little high,” Eddie directed to Hen.

“I'm kind of dizzy, too. And, uh, my ribs hurt here,” you pointed to the side with the hurt shoulder.”

Eddie just nodded, taking a mental note. “What about your neck? Any pain when you turn your head?”

You tested the motion. “Not really. It feels stiff, like when you sleep wrong but that's it.”

“Okay. I'm going to help you move over to the stretcher and then we'll get you something for pain.” Eddie explained.

Moving was significantly more painful than it had been when you sat down here. You cried out as pain shot through your torso from standing. Both Eddie and Buck offered soft reassurances as they shifted you as carefully as possible.

They quickly got you situated on the stretcher and Hen placed an IV. She pushed pain meds while Eddie finished checking your vitals. Buck continued to hold your hand and offer comfort, reminding you that everything was going to be okay.

Once they'd loaded you into the ambulance, Hen and Eddie moved around you in practiced synchronicity. Eddie placed leads for a heart monitor while Hen clipped the pulse ox to your finger and started another BP reading.

Lastly, Eddie flashed a light into your eyes causing you to wince. You saw the worried look that flashed in his eyes before he locked it down with a mask of professionalism. “Pupils are uneven, right is sluggish.”

“What does that mean?” You asked.

“It's probably just a concussion but the hospital will want to do a CT scan,” Eddie explained.

You squeezed Buck’s hand hard, trying to stay calm. Suddenly, you were overwhelmingly nauseous. “Um, I think I'm gonna be sick.”

Hen managed to place a barf bag in front of your face just in time. You threw up another two times and were surprised how much energy it had taken.

You let your head fall back against the stretcher. “I'm so tired.”

Eddie shined the light in your eyes once more. He managed to keep his face neutral which worried you more. “I need you to try and stay awake for me, okay?”

You whined. “I'm so, so tired though.”

Buck ran his free hand over your head. “We're almost there. Just try your best, okay?”

“Mmkay,” you mumbled. You tried to keep your eyes locked on them but before long you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer.

–---

Your whole body felt heavy. You heard a lot of beeping, some seemed close by and others further away. You groaned trying to shift but only managing to move your fingers.

“Whoa. Y/N?” Buck asked.

Someone squeezed your fingers and then ran a hand over the top of your head. “Are you awake, cariña?”

You groaned again, trying desperately to open your eyes. You squeezed the fingers in your hand lightly once more.

“Come on, baby,” Buck begged. “You can do it. Just open those eyes for us.”

They both continued to offer words of encouragement and soft touches. Eventually, you managed to crack your eyes open just a smidge. You winced against the brightness and then slowly your vision started to clear.

“There you are,” Eddie smiled.

Buck leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I'm going to go grab the nurse. I'll be right back.”

“What happened?” Your throat felt dry.

“What's the last thing you remember?” Eddie asked, offering you a straw from a small cup of water. “Small sips.”

After a little water, your throat felt slightly better. “Uh, I was getting the decorations out of the attic. I climbed up there then I don't know.”

Buck came back with the nurse. She took a set of vitals while she asked you questions. “Do you have any pain?”

“Uh huh. Everywhere.”

She nodded. “Okay, how bad on a scale of one to ten?”

You shifted slightly trying to make yourself more comfortable but winced. “Maybe a four or five?”

“Okay. I already paged the doctor,” she explained. “He should be here soon. Once he does his exam, I'll make sure he puts in orders for more pain meds.”

“Thanks.”

She headed toward the door. “I'll be back in a minute when he gets here.”

Once she pulled the door closed, you looked back to Eddie waiting for him to finally answer your question.

He took your hand and squeezed it as Buck took the seat on your other side. “You were in the attic getting decorations out. You were carrying boxes so you couldn't see and misjudged where the ladder hole was and you fell.”

You winced, glad you couldn't remember that. “But you guys were at work. Oh, my god. Did I get knocked out? Did you have to come home and find me? I'm so sorry.”

“No.” Buck said as he placed his hand on your thigh. “You called 911. Maddie got your call and sent us.”

You scowled. “I don't remember any of that.”

“I'm not surprised.” Eddie pulled your attention back to him. “You hit your head. You lost consciousness in the ambulance. There was a subdural hematoma. They had to do surgery to relieve the pressure.”

You glanced over to Buck and the look on his face was almost enough to break you. “You scared the shit out of us, baby. You've been unconscious for thirty-six hours.”

There was a knock at the door before it swung open to reveal the doctor and the nurse. He took his time asking you questions and performing a full neuro check.

“Everything looks good,” the doctor explained. “I will get an order put in for PCA so that way you have a button to self-administer pain medication as you need. Just get some rest, okay?”

“When will I get to go home?”

The doctor chuckled. “That disappointed in our hospitality?”

“This bed isn't very comfortable,” you explained.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you'll be here for a few days at least,” he explained. “Right now we are still monitoring your intracranial pressure to make sure the bleeding has stopped. You can't even wander the halls quite yet.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said, offering his hand to shake.

They left again with the nurse promising to be right back with your pain meds.

“I can't believe you just asked when you can go home.” Buck tried to hold back his laughter. “You've been awake for ten minutes after having brain surgery and your trying for a jailbreak.”

You pouted. “This bed is not comfortable and it's too small. I don't think I can even fit one of you with me to cuddle.”

Eddie ran his fingers across your cheek. “I don't think that'd be a great idea right now anyway. Considering your dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, and your sprained ankle.”

“This sucks,” you whined.

“We’re just glad you're going to be okay,” said Eddie.

Buck took your hand. “We might not be able to cuddle, but we will be right here until you do get to go home.”

“But you have to go to work.”

“No, we don't,” Buck explained. “Bobby gave us furlough until you're home. He insisted, actually. He doesn't think our focus would be where it needs to be right now and he's not wrong.”

The nurse came back and quickly set up your meds and handed you a cord with a button. “You push that whenever your pain gets too much, okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you.” You pushed the button before setting the cord by your leg.

“It's also probably going to make you a bit drowsy,” she said.

“Sure is,” you slurred, your eyelids already feeling heavy.

“Get some rest, amor.”

“We will be here when you wake up.”

“Love you,” you mumbled as you drifted to sleep.

The last thing you heard was both of them. “We love you, too.”

-----

#buddie x reader #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x reader #eddie diaz x reader #911 oneshot #9 1 1 x reader #911 reader insert #hurt/comfort #whumpril2025 #head injury

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hyukaluver · 10 days ago

Text

shared spaces - hueningkai x fem!reader

genre: smut, office au

summary: after a long day at work, you and hueningkai get stuck in an elevator.

cw: pet names, dacryphilia, slightly manipulative tones, creampie, no protection, kinda exhibitionism?, dom! kai, swearing, dry humping, bulge kink, begging, praise, size kink, perversion, anything else i might’ve forgotten, mdni!!

wc: 2.6k

it had only been a few weeks since the new intern, hueningkai, had arrived at your company in search of a permanent job position. you had been assigned to supervise him along with a few other staff members as a part of your preparation for an upcoming promotion. he was quiet and reserved, but always displayed eagerness in doing his best in every possible task you presented him with.

he spoke only when necessary, always respectful, always focused, but there was something about the way he carried himself that lingered in your mind long after conversations ended. he never overstepped, never crossed a line.

but he didn’t need to. his presence was calm and consistent.

over time, you started to grow fond of him. when the workload wasn’t completely overwhelming, you’d invite him over to your desk for small, innocent chats over coffee and sweet bread. he always listened patiently as you vented about annoying coworkers, endless projects, or your creepy boss. he never judged. he just listened, with that soft look in his eyes like he understood more than he let on.

he was just so sweet. but oh, how he drove you crazy.

it became more and more frequent, that after long and dreadful day of work, you’d find yourself thinking about him as you entered your apartment complex. he was just so good at making you feel better, even if he didn’t say a word to you. you wished he was there with you.

what was worse is that you could never deny that he was your type. he was cute but masculine and his eyes were just so entrancing. his plush lips and nose were like no other. you wanted him so bad.

no, you needed him so bad.

but you couldn’t have him. that would ruin your image at the company and make it impossible for you to fulfill your dreams of making it big.

so, as a way to relieve the temptation, you’d touch yourself to the thought of him late at night, wishing he could hear the way you whimper his name on your bed.

————————————————————————

here you were.. clocking out late again, the building nearly empty, your feet sore from the heels that came with your uniform, and your skirt riding just a little too high from the long day. hueningkai lingered near the exit of the cube farm, bag slung over one shoulder, fingers tapping lightly against the strap as he waited for you.

“ready?” he asked gently, offering that same stupid smile that made your stomach flutter.

“yeah. let’s go,” you replied, trying to keep it cool while walking down the hall.

you both stepped into the elevator, the hallway light casting a soft gold hue over his face just before the doors closed. inside, it was quiet. too quiet. you stood beside him, hands clasped tightly in front of you, feeling the weight of every inch of space between you.

you watched as hueningkai pressed the button with the number 1, taking note of the numbers beginning to decrease after the elevator started moving.

suddenly, you heard a loud mechanical clunk. the elevator jolted to a stop.

you both stumbled slightly.

“what the hell…” you muttered, pressing the emergency button. nothing.

hueningkai chuckled softly. “looks like we’re stuck.”

he sounded way too calm. you tried not to show your panic.. or the heat rising in your chest. “of course we are,” you muttered, blowing out a breath. “great.”

you both knew you would be there for a while. aware that repairs in this building tend to drag on, you brace yourself for a wait. you quickly pull out your phone to dial 911.

he shrugged, then surprised you by slowly sliding down to sit on the elevator floor, stretching his long legs out with a sigh. he says, “guess we wait,” after you finish your call.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to stand or sit, but your body felt too on edge. so you leaned back against the wall, staying upright.

you watched him—his straight black hair falling slightly over his eyes, the collar of his button-up loose, the rise and fall of his chest steady and relaxed. and something about the whole situation—his calmness, the intimacy of the space, the tension you’d been ignoring for weeks—it just snapped something in you.

time dragged on. you began to get bored, and really, what better way to entertain yourself than by having perverted thoughts about the person sitting next to you?

you take small glances at the individual so close in proximity, scanning the way his long fingers scroll on his phone.

the thought of him ruining you with those fingers turned you on. you couldn’t control it, you needed some type of relief.

thinking you could be slick, you pressed your thighs together. you shifted, adjusting your skirt again. but he noticed. his eyes went up to follow the movement. then they dropped—lower. and then he paused.

you froze.

you could feel it too. the heat. the dampness. your baby blue panties sticking to your entrance just enough to make it known.

his eyes darkened. he blinked once. slowly.

and judging by the small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips… he’d definitely noticed.

his voice was calm. “is that how you react to me?”

your heart leapt into your throat. “i—no, i’m not—”

his gaze didn’t waver. “you’re shaking,” he said casually, eyes still locked where they shouldn’t be. “you’re not very good at hiding it.”

you clenched your fists at your sides, feeling paralyzed.

“no.. i swear it’s not what you think..” you began. your voice fails and your words turn into a squeak. “i’m just scared of elevators. that’s all.”

kai doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t tease. he just keeps watching you like he’s seeing you for the first time. “you’re not very good at hiding many things, you know, i see the way you look at me all the time,” he says. his voice is still gentle, still sweet—but lower now. like he’s speaking only to you in secret despite you two being the only ones present. like he’s been waiting for this moment.

“now, tell me the truth. is that the kind of reaction i get out of you?”

you look down at the elevator floor. you could feel yourself getting red in the face, but you still make an effort to nod a microscopic nod.

huening chuckles, about to go back to scrolling on his phone when you interrupt him.

you don’t know why, but his reaction makes you want to explain yourself. you don’t want him to think lowly of you. maybe he thinks you’re a whore who wants the attention of just any guy.

“no, you just don’t understand..” you began. your legs felt weak and you began to shake more intensely. was it out of fear of disgusting him, or embarrassment? or what if it was just because you were claustrophobic and it felt like the elevator would fail and plunge a hundred feet, making it possible to crush you both in the process?

you bit your lip. the elevator felt smaller by the second.

“i just…” your throat tightened. “you make it hard to think straight.”

his lips parted at that, and you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up again. just barely.

you contemplated saying your next words.

“i.. i um.. i need you,” you stuttered, your voice almost a whisper now. “so bad it’s starting to hurt.”

he raised an eyebrow. “do you really?” he tried concealing the tent forming in his pants. he was so glad to hear you admit that. were you aware of all the times he’s jacked off to the voice messages you send him for instructions?

you nodded, wide-eyed and heart racing. “yes, please!” you didn’t care if you sounded desperate.

he patted his lap, still lounging on the floor like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “alright, baby. come get what you need.”

you hurried to slide down onto his lap facing him, knees on either side of his hips, skirt bunched up.

“use me,” he said innocently, blinking his eyes at you. “make yourself feel good.”

he didn’t move. didn’t even touch you.

“go on,” he said as he caressed you arm, tilting his head slightly. “you can use me.”

you, still feeling extremely embarrassed from your confession just moments prior, quickly started to rock against him, grinding slowly like an animal in heat trying to appear to have some sort of self control. your breath catching with every roll of your hips and your clothed cunt making contact with the bulge that was being restrained in his pants. you tried going faster as you became more desperate, but it was no use. you sigh in frustration, although you try not to make it obvious.

“you’re so adorable when you’re like this,” he whispers into your ear, “so needy. so desperate for me.” his hot breath sends chills down your spine.

you hated how much you liked hearing it, though.. it turned you on, but it just wasn’t enough.

you whimper softly, head falling forward as your hands rested on his chest, picking up the pace you were dry humping him at. “hah~” you pant, “need.. more…” you eventually upped your pace, practically clawing into him now.

hueningkai decides to free you from his teasing, swiftly picking you up from his bulge and sliding off his pants halfway before you’re crawling back onto him. he pulls down his boxers and his hard cock springs out and oh no.

to be quite frank, you didn’t know if it would fit. you hadn’t seen a cock as big and thick as his in real life. not to mention it was so pretty. so so so pretty.

“uh.. huening..”

“oh..! it’s okay. i’ve got you. i’ll be gentle.” he responds quickly as he sees the fear in your eyes for just a moment. he found it endearing how flustered you’d become in such a short amount of time. craving the feeling of him inside you, you nod quickly and lean down to give a kiss to his pink tip leaking with precum before aligning it to your entrance. he fights back a giggle. you’re just so sweet.

he feels so bad for what he’s about to do to you, but he just can’t control himself anymore. he grabs your jaw to push your lips into his and tries to create the appearance of slowly entering you before grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto him. bottoming out, he groans loudly.

“too big.. t-too much..!” you yelp, disconnecting your lips from his as you feel tears beginning to form. his method to keep you from yelling utterly failed..

he brings a finger to your lips to hush you. ”i'm sorry.. you’ll be okay.” he starts to slowly pull out and sink into you. “didn’t you want this, baby?” his tone had changed so quickly, making you realize that you had never imagined your once cool and collected intern to have such dirty and manipulative words roll off his tongue like it was normal small talk. he begins to move you up and down manually as you clench around him. “fuck, you’re so tight.” he plants a kiss on your cheek for comfort, feeling the way your walls were still tense around him. “just relax, you’re safe with me.”

kai, letting his curiosity get the best of him, brings one of his hands to your stomach, feeling the bulge he’s created inside of you and pressing down on it. you mewl from the new sensation.

it’s so overwhelming. you can feel his cock pulse against your walls.. and it’s a new feeling but fuck it hurts so good. “what happened to my greedy girl.. hm? i thought you needed me? and now that you have me, it’s too much? was this not what you expected? or is this not enough?”

“n-no! no. i can take it..” you explain hurriedly. “i want this! i want your cock.. so bad.. it’s—it’s just that i need to warm up! ngh—ah.. that’s all!” you try to prove yourself to him by riding up and down on him but he splits you open so much that you begin to tear up. he tries to hide how much it’s turning him on but he just can’t hold back his cute noises. “my sweet girl,” he begins, “you can take your time if you’d like.”

pfft. first he rushes to fill you up with his dick and now he’s talking about taking your time?

the pain eventually subsides, turning into pleasure and you decide to move more quickly. wanting to feel more intimate with him, you wrap your hands around kai’s head and breathe into the crook of his neck. ”hyuka! i mean kai! huening! fuck!” you try to muffle, your whimpers of his name catching his attention so he grabs your chin to make eye contact with him.

you stare at him as you feel him hit that sweet spot in your core. “what’d you call me?” he asks sweetly, still encouraging you to keep the pace that you were riding him at. he didn’t mind that you called him hyuka. it just wasn’t like you. you only ever called him his formal name.

“ngh, hyuka?” you reply with a confused expression on your face, too enamored by the way his tip was knocking on your cervix over and over again, not truly understanding the severity or significance of your own actions. the nickname didn’t mean much to you. but it meant so much to him. he loved it.

“mmm~ keep calling me that, baby, you sound so cute,” he coos. his thrusts from below you become more sloppy as he chases his own high. he brings down his hand to rub at your clit, making you twitch at his touch.

“ahh.. oh fuck!” you cry. the stimulation from his fingertips was everything you could ever ask for. his length ramming into you was just the cherry on top. “hyuka, we should’ve, ah—done this sooner!” you say with a genuinely giddy expression on your face.

you could see his stupid smirk begin to form once again. “it’s better late than never, no?” he says, fucking hard into your now dripping pussy. you had almost forgotten you were in an elevator until you heard a small creak come from the floor below you.

“shit, baby, you’re doing so well for me..” he groans. he was getting dangerously close to his own climax. “you look so perfect falling apart on my cock.. fuck, you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this.”

you’re overwhelmed now, every swipe to your clit making your legs tremble. you’re barely able to keep rhythm, breathing out “it’s too much! please, please let me cum!” kai listens to your pleas, fucking into you, telling you to “let go, i’ve got you.”

your peak finally crashes down onto you and you feel nothing but pure bliss. you cling onto hueningkai, hoping he would just spill his cum inside you right then and there. he reaches his orgasm only a few moments later, pounding his seed deep into you, making sure that you don’t spill even a single drop.. you don’t even realize you’re drooling on his shoulder at this point.

once you collapse over him, he kisses your temple and brushes your hair back. suddenly, though, another loud clank came from above, and a voice shouts:

“hey! you two okay in there?!”

your heart sank at that very moment. you both look at each other and freeze.

#hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai smut #txt smut #txt #hueningkai x reader #txt x reader #txt fic #tomorrow x together #hueningkai #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hueningkai hard thoughts #txt imagines

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uhhhj13iguess · 1 month ago

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large cheese pizza, please

peter parker x gn!reader

peter comes to save you from your abusive (now ex)boyfriend

wc: ~1k

cw: implied domestic violence, though it doesn’t go into much past a little yelling and mentions of a bruise. reader uses the “pizza delivery” 911 tactic on peter to get his help, hurt/comfort where he comes to the rescue

lol i immediately made a part two!

if you are in an unsafe situation or even just a downright shitty one, please know that you can get help! your friends, families, and even the strangers around you care about you and want you safe, happy, and healthy. as someone who has lived through a miserably abusive ex, i unfortunately love to read and write this trope and bring this as an offering to those of you who do as well <3

masterlist and taglist!

peters phone buzzed against his desk, your contact picture flashing across his screen. he gave a soft smile before answering. “hey you, thought you had a hot date?”

“hey, i just wanted to make a quick delivery for a large cheese pizza, please?” your voice was quiet over the phone.

peter let out a chuckle. “bug, there’s no way you mistook my number for jet’s. we don’t even have the same area code!”

“yeah, just the pizza. you guys do delivery, right? like you come here?” your voice was shaking and peter felt his blood run cold. he spoke your name softly.

“are you okay? how can i help?”

“do you need the address?” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, straining to hold a whisper loud enough peter could hear over the phone.

“no, no bug i know where you live. why are you whispering, is someone with you? i thought brad was coming over?” he was struggling to get his suit on, phone tossed hastily on his bed as he put you on speaker. he hit the spider emblem on his chest and the suit cinched to him, your call connecting to karen’s bluetooth.

“yeah, i’ve ordered here before. just cheese, please.”

“okay, he’s with you. why can’t you talk freely though, (y/n), a-are you safe?” he choked the question out, not wanting to ask. he never liked brad, but that was always for… personal reasons. anytime the guy made him uncomfortable, he assumed it was his own jealousy feeding into his perception. now, he felt sick to his stomach with guilt. he slid his mask on and opened his window.

“no, i don’t think we need any marinara on the side.” peter clenched his jaw as he heard you stutter over the line. he jumped slightly as he heard a loud, deep voice on the other end yelling. it was brad, and he sounded angry and drunk.

“i-i’m sorry, yes. to-to the marinara, please. please.” you cried.

“fuck,” he grunted into the phone, climbing into the window frame and crawling onto the fire escape. his heart was racing, blood boiling as it coursed through his veins. he slammed the window shut after him, cracks snaking up the glass from the sheer force of his anger. “(y/n), i’m on my way. can you get somewhere safe? lock yourself somewhere?”

there was a moment of silence, a hesitation. “yes.”

peter took a breath for the first time since you called and launched himself from the side of his building. he heard movement on the other end of the line before a loud crash, a voice booming through his speakers.

“and where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“i-i left my wallet in my room. i’m just going to grab it to give them my card number, o-okay honey?”

peter swung faster, if that was even possible, only feeling an ounce of relief once he could hear you click the lock of your door. “bug?”

a shaky breath. “yeah, i’m still here.”

“i’ll be there in two minutes, okay? just unlock your window and stay quiet, i’ll be right there. okay? are you hurt?” another question he didn’t want to ask.

he heard your soft whimper, followed by a quick inhale. “yes.”

another answer he didn’t want to hear.

“okay, you’re safe now. i’m almost there. okay? now read me your card information bug, keep the conversation normal. i’m almost there.”

his body hit the side of your building as he listened to you ramble a string of numbers, crawling quickly to your window. he opened it slowly as not to startle you or make any unnecessary noise.

as peter crawled in and set himself down gently on the ground, he turned to notice your small frame and the tears that covered your face.

your swollen, black and blue face.

peter knew he had to stay calm, but he hadn’t felt this type of rage in a long time. his fists clenched as quickly as he relaxed them, slowly walking over to approach you. he lifted his mask off, concern knitting his eyebrows together.

you started to cry again as soon as you saw him, running to his arms as quietly as you could. he wrapped them around you tightly, holding your trembling frame in his own.

“i’ve got you, okay? you’re safe.” he whispered so only you could hear against your disheveled hair.

so many questions wracked his brain as he took in your hurt form, but he pushed them aside, lifting you gently as he carried you out the window and to the next levels fire escape. he set you down, sliding his mask back on. “i’ll be right back, okay? i’m going to get some of your things.”

he went to turn but you grabbed his arm, horror written over your features. “you’re going back in?”

“bug, you’re staying with me for a few days, no questions about it. let me at least grab you some fresh clothes and a charger.” his voice was stern but cautious, worried to startle you any further.

“but, h-he…”you trailed off, looking back up towards your apartment. peter scoffed.

“baby…” he motioned down to his suit, lenses on the mask widening as he raised his own eyebrows. you flushed at the pet name and let him go. “i’ll be right back.”

and he was. within a few minutes, he was on his way back down to you with a bag over his shoulder. “ready?” he held his hand down towards where you had sunken to a seated position on the cold metal.

your eyes widened as you saw the faint traces of blood on his masked hands. “peter!”

he pulled you up. “what’s up, bug?”

“w-what did you do? what is this?” you grabbed his glove, examining the fresh blood splatter.

he let out a deep sigh as he removed his hand from your grasp and wrapped it around your waist tightly. “honestly? restraint.”

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orimuraa · 9 months ago

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‧₊˚ 🧷 When you’re not here 911 calling - OT7

(synopsis) ࣪ ִֶָ☾. when enhypen is clingy ~❀

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ִֶָ☾. tooth-rotting fluff, crack ִֶָ☾. clingy enha ִֶָ☾. kisses, petnames ִֶָ☾. wc 720

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

ring...ring...ring...ri- "hello? seungie what's wrong?" you had just left 10 minutes ago to grab some groceries to cook dinner when all of the sudden, you get a call from your boyfriend. "baby? are you done yet? i miss you" your heart melted at the cute, sulky tone of your boyfriend on the other line and you could just envision his pouty face. letting out a soft chuckle, you pay the cashier and head out of the store. "i'm walking home now you big baby" you laugh, adjusting your shopping bag onto your shoulder. "yay!!" heeseung cheered. "you've been gone for agesss" he whined. sure he was a big baby trapped inside of a 23 year old man's body, but he was your big baby.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

"ynnieee" you heard your boyfriend whine. you set down your pen and walked over to the couch where jay was currently snuggled into. "i miss you" he frowns and oh does it melt your heart. "awww by jongie missed me? i was just 5 feet away in the other room silly!" you giggle, sitting down next to him on the couch. without warning, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you down next to him and planting a big, fat smooch on your forehead. "shhh, it's cuddle time with my princess"

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

“jaeyun??? jaeyun are you okay??” you called out frantically after receiving a distressing message from your boyfriend that read: “come back quick pls. i need you here right now” so you turned your car around immediately and sped back home just to find your boyfriend greeting you—perfectly fine— at the door. “hi baby! you came back!” he giggled, his puppy smile showing. “yah! sim jaeyun! what is this?” you yelled, holding up the message on your phone. “ohhhh that! i just missed you!” he smiled. “why you little-” it was safe to say that you loved your very clingy boyfriend very much.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

you had just woken up to your alarm and you were about to get up and ready for the day when a pair of arms pulled you back down. “nooo please don’t leave” a sleepy voiced mumbled from behind you. “more cuddles please” sunghoon asked as he nuzzled his head into your neck. “aigoo hoonie, how can i say no to you” you smiled, giving in to his ask. it was rare for sunghoon to be this clingy so how could you deny him his cuddles? you would never do such a thing anyway.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

“yah! where are you my ynnie???” sunoo yelled out. you had left precisely 6 minutes and 24 seconds ago and sunoo was already calling you back. all you needed to do was finish the cookies but somebody was a bit too clingy today (it’s okay you didn’t mind one bit) and needed you with him 24/7. “cominggg” you giggle at your boyfriend’s clingy actions. walking into his bedroom, he immediately lights up when he sees you. “yay ! you’re here!!!” he then proceeds to tackle you onto the bed, securing his arms around you to make sure you can’t leave him. you always loved when sunoo got clingy.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

we all know that jungwon has his times of being this adorable little cat. so it wasn’t shocking when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waste and small kisses being gently placed on your neck. “hi wonnie” you smile, knowing he was feeling clingy today. “mm, come cuddle please, pretty” the small whisper of his voice melted your heart and you just couldn’t say no to such a cutie! he took your hand and led you to the couch where he already had a movie and a warm blanket ready for the two of you. “ta-da! now you can’t escape me!”

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

ni-ki didn’t like showing physical affection in public, but he was a big baby behind closed doors. “babyyyy” he whined, trying to get you to comeback and give him more kisses. “pleaseeeee, i’m dying here without youuu” you playfully rolled your eyes as you walked back into your bedroom where your boyfriend was waiting. “now, kisses please” he sat up straight and smiled to you. gosh he was so cute. “whatever you say my big baby” you were so glad that he felt safe enough with you to show this side of himself to you and only you.

hiii! i’m back from the dead!! this made me giggle a whole bunch and while writing ni-ki’s, i just had that image of him making heart fingers for jake (iykyk) anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this and i’ll be back to posting every day if i can! <333

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory

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alive-gh0st · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ❝Afterglow❞ˎˊ˗

Mark Grayson x Med!Reader♡ྀི

….ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨.ـ... ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⛨ summary: you were in a surprisingly good mood, which should’ve been the first red flag. your coworkers weren’t being annoying, the coffee machine was actually working, and not a single patient had tried to self-diagnose off WebMD yet. the universe clearly saw that and went “hmm, too peaceful.” because hours later, the clinic was rubble, a child was almost lost, and you met invincible for the first time. and of course—you yelled at him.

⛨ contains: sfw. local clinic setting. first meeting with invincible. medical professional!reader. civilian chaos. reader being a bad bitch. immediate tension and banter. subtle foreshadowing of their future dynamic. fire/explosion sequence. hands-on first aid moments. mark being surprised-reader-ain’t-scared. small emotional undercurrent under sarcasm.

⛨ warnings: brief injury description (scrapes, blood). explosion/fire trauma. smoke inhalation. nurse carla. mild trauma response (panic, adrenaline). implied danger to a child (rescued safely). some profanity.

⛨ wc: 1093

prologue, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: reader has a license, a savior complex, and zero chill. mark shows up for five minutes and gets emotionally wrecked. enjoy the chaos.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s a quiet Tuesday. The kind of quiet that should’ve tipped you off. The kind of quiet that doesn’t last.

Your shift starts at 8:00 AM sharp, and somehow, you’re early. The sun’s out, the sky’s obnoxiously blue, and someone brought donuts to the clinic—for no reason.

You even got your favorite one—the last one—which felt like a small miracle… until you realized the coffee was good.

Not just drinkable. Good. Fresh. Hot. Non-bitter. Suspicious.

You’d joked with Nurse Carla that the universe was trying to butter you up.

“You just wait,” she said, stirring her tea like some all-knowing, scrub-wearing oracle. “It’s always the good days that get you.”

You’d laughed.

Now you’re pretty sure she hexed you.

The clinic hums with calm, the low rhythm of patients being called back and phones ringing occasionally at the front desk. In room three, you patch up a skateboard accident. Room five brings in an elderly man who insists his blood pressure is fine—even as the cuff nearly bursts. You remain patient, calm, even friendly—somehow.

You’re not usually this chipper.

Maybe it’s the sunlight. Maybe it’s the donut.

Either way, you don’t realize you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop—

Until it does.

Loud. Violent. Apocalyptic.

The explosion shakes the floor beneath your feet.

It’s not real at first. Just a sound—an echoing blast that shatters windows and hurls you out of your good mood like a ragdoll. You slam your coffee on the counter (RIP—it was actually decent) and bolt toward the door before anyone can stop you.

Smoke is already curling above the skyline. Across the street, a building is on fire—its middle floors cracked open like a broken jaw. Glass rains down. People scream.

You don’t hesitate. You just move.

“Call 911!” you shout over your shoulder as your feet hit the pavement. Your heart kicks into overdrive. The calm is gone.

The illusion shattered.

“Evacuate the lobby!”

You don’t wait for acknowledgment. Your feet are already pounding pavement, shoes slipping slightly on the sidewalk as your mind flips into crisis mode.

You’re already halfway in before your brain catches up.

A woman collapses near the curb—shock. You steady her, get her seated, check her breathing. Alive.

You keep moving.

A teen stumbles out of the smoke, blood on his jeans. You direct him to sit, tear open your kit.

Tourniquet. Gauze. Stabilize. Move.

You don’t even notice when your stethoscope vanishes off your shoulders—just that your hands are moving and your brain’s already triaging in real time.

And then you see her.

A little girl—no older than nine—trapped beneath a chunk of concrete by the crosswalk. Her arm’s twisted at a bad angle. Blood smears her cheek. She’s trying to cry but doesn’t have the energy for more than a breathy whimper.

Before your brain can even catch up, your legs are already sprinting.

Someone grabs your arm—an older man with watery eyes and a voice wobbling from terror. “Don’t!” he begs. “That’s suicide! You’ll die trying to—”

“Move,” you snap, not bothering to look back. “Or piss yourself somewhere else.”

You don’t wait for a reply.

Your knees hit pavement. You’re beside the girl before the guy can finish a follow-up plea, hands already assessing her pulse, breath, injuries. You try to lift the debris. Nothing. It doesn’t budge. Your arms shake, muscles strain, lungs burning from smoke.

You try again.

Still nothing.

Panic rises sharp in your throat. The little girl’s eyes flutter—too pale, too quiet.

“Stay with me,” you whisper. “Hey. Look at me, alright? You’re gonna be okay.”

You lie. But your voice is steady.

For a horrible moment, you actually think this is it. That you’re about to die here, buried with this kid—and no one will know why you didn’t wait for backup.

The wind shifts.

Fast. Sharp. A blur of motion and force that sends your hair whipping around your face.

And then the weight’s gone.

You jerk backward, pull the girl free, and curl around her automatically—heart hammering like a drumline. You blink through the smoke and ash.

That’s when you see him.

Invincible.

In the flesh. Blue and yellow suit smeared with ash and blood, goggles cracked at one side. Kneeling beside you like some kind of comic book punchline—if comic books ever showed their heroes looking that tired.

“She’s okay,” you breathe, adjusting the girl in your arms, “but you’re not.”

He blinks like you just insulted him in four languages. “I’m—”

“Don’t say fine.” You eye him critically. “You’re favoring your left. Blood. Concussion-level pupils. You probably shouldn’t be standing, let alone flying.”

“…Are you a doctor?”

“Closer to nurse practitioner. Also not blind.”

You stand, legs shaky but functional. He watches you like he’s never been spoken to like that in his life.

“You should go,” you add, motioning to the kid in your arms. “She needs a hospital. Fast.”

He hesitates.

You frown. “What?”

“…Nothing. Just—” He gestures vaguely at you. “You’re calm.”

You actually snort. “You mean I didn’t cry and fangirl? Tragic.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, quieter now. “If anything, you’re just another bleeding idiot who didn’t let someone check him out before playing hero.”

You’ve seen enough broken ribs and bad priorities to know most capes aren’t invincible where it counts.

His mouth opens. Closes. Still stunned.

You sigh and hand him the girl, a little softer now. ”Take her. That’s the only reason I’m not yelling more.”

He nods, carefully taking the child into his arms like she’s glass. Gives you one last look—

And he’s gone.

Wind howls. The air cracks.

And you’re left standing there, covered in soot and adrenaline, alone in the wreckage.

You don’t know he’ll remember your voice. The glare. The cracked joke.

But he will.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚❤️‍🔥˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌Somewhere, sometime after…

Nurse Carla sits in her living room, lit by the flicker of a dusty lamp and the glow of a muted rerun. A cat—large, black, and terrifyingly still—curls in her lap like it’s plotting something.

His name is Lucifer. You know this because she whispers it like a prayer when chattering about him.

She sips her tea. Doesn’t flinch when thunder cracks outside, even though it hasn’t rained in weeks.

On the table beside her: a newspaper folded open to an article about the explosion. A blurry shot of Invincible in flight.

Carla hums. Calm. Unbothered. All-knowing.

She sets the teacup down with a soft clink, leans back in her chair, and strokes Lucifer’s head.

“I told her,” she murmurs, half to herself, half to the void. “Never trust a Tuesday.”

She smiles.

Lucifer purrs.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: nurse carla is two steps from world domination. the cat knows things. be aware.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

taglist sign up: 𓉘here𓉝

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ With Love, @alive-gh0st

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siratonin · 5 months ago

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Bucktommy Ι WC: 3k Ι cw: Blood, Gunshot, Major injury

[read below or on ao3]

Buck’s world came back in flashes.

Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

“Come on, Buck. Come on, wake up.”

Dammit Tommy, it’s Evan, he thought.

The words were low and urgent, threading through the pain, pulling him toward consciousness.

“Hey, Hey, just open your eyes for me. You’re fine. You’re good—just wake up, okay?”

A hand pressed against his arm, steady and firm, keeping him anchored. The pain sharpened, burning through the fog in his mind.

Buck groaned, blinking against the blinding overhead lights. His throat felt raw, his limbs heavy. He heard a sharp exhale of relief.

“—What happened?” Buck barely managed to ask, his throat dry, words slurring.

Tommy’s face hovered above him, eyes sharper than usual, scanning him like he was an emergency call. His hands were pressing something—his own flannel, bundled tightly—against Buck’s arm. Blood soaked through.

“Just stay here,” Tommy whispered. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—controlled tension. “You’ll be okay, just don’t move now. I called 911. Help is on the way.”

Buck tried to shift, but Tommy’s grip on his injured arm tightened, keeping him still.

“Don’t move,” Tommy murmured, his voice quieter now but firm. “You got shot, but it’s not bleeding too bad. No exit wound, so the bullet’s still in there.” His gaze flicked over Buck’s arm, assessing quickly. “I don’t think it hit anything major, but I can’t be sure. Probably just the muscle.” He adjusted the pressure, tightening the fabric over the wound. “You’re stable, but you need to stay still, okay?”

Buck swallowed hard, trying to process the words through the throbbing in his skull. Shot. Bullet still inside. Probably just the muscle. That meant it wasn’t that bad, right?

His eyes flickered past Tommy, and that’s when he saw the gun in the distance—the shooter, pacing erratically near the overturned tables and shattered glass.

Buck’s breath caught, but then his gaze dragged back to Tommy, to the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were squared, body coiled tight like he was ready to move at any second.

His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out. “Are you okay?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. His focus remained locked on the shooter, assessing, calculating.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice even. Too even. His grip on Buck’s arm didn’t loosen, though—steady, grounding, a silent reassurance.

The man was yelling. “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?!” His voice cracked with unhinged desperation.

Tommy inhaled slowly and got up.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. They were supposed to meet up, talk—just talk. Buck had been anxious, uncertain, but then Tommy walked in—steady, put together, looking good, he always did. And when Tommy smiled— small, warm, genuine—hope flickered to life in Buck’s chest. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. But now, none of that mattered.

Buck blinked. “Tommy—” His fingers barely caught at Tommy’s wrist, but Tommy had already straightened up, stepping forward with careful, measured steps.

“What’s her name?” Tommy asked, voice low but steady.

The shooter’s head snapped toward him. “You—You know her? You her new boyfriend?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “No, I don’t know her,” he said simply. “But I know you don’t want to do this.”

The man’s breathing was ragged, his grip on the gun unsteady. “She won’t even talk to me! After everything I— I just want to see her. I just want her to listen.”

Tommy nodded, keeping his hands visible, his body loose. “I hear you, man. Feels like she shut you out, right?”

The shooter’s lip curled. “She’s been ignoring me for months! Like I don’t even exist! And then I come here, and—and she’s not even—” His voice cracked, his eyes darting around wildly.

Tommy took a slow step forward. “That’s gotta be frustrating. You came here to talk, and now all this happened instead.”

The man’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, this—this ain’t what I wanted. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, voice shaking. “I just want to know why. Why she left. Why she won’t answer me.”

Tommy’s hands were still up, his body still calm, every movement carefully controlled.

“I get it,” Tommy said. “I really do. It’s hard when someone walks away and you don’t get answers.” His tone softened, but not too much. He had to keep the shooter engaged, not coddle him. “But, listen—hurting people in here? That’s not gonna get you those answers, man.”

The shooter’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching around the grip. “It’s not fair,” he muttered. “It’s not fair.”

Tommy didn’t break eye contact. He took another slow step forward, careful, controlled. “I hear you. You didn’t come here to hurt anyone, right?”

The shooter hesitated, breath still ragged. “No, I— I just—” His fingers flexed around the trigger, shoulders tensing. “She won’t even listen to me. After everything I did for her—”

“I believe you,” Tommy said smoothly, voice steady. “I believe you just wanted her to hear you. And you deserve that. But this?” He nodded slightly toward the shattered glass, the overturned tables. “This isn’t gonna bring her back, man. You know that.”

For a moment, the shooter wavered. His grip on the gun loosened—just barely.

Buck barely heard the rest. His arm throbbed, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage Tommy had left behind. The coppery taste in his mouth made his stomach churn, but then—

A whimper.

Buck turned his head slightly, vision still hazy. A kid—barely five, maybe six—curled up behind an overturned chair, shaking, tears streaking his cheeks. His small hands clutched his knees, and he was whispering, repeating the same words over and over.

“Mommy, I want Mommy.”

Buck swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

“You’ll see her soon,” The kid’s eyes darted to him—red rimmed, terrified. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but we’re gonna be okay. See that guy?” Buck nodded toward Tommy, who was still keeping the shooter talking. “He’s strong. He’s gonna get us out.”

The kid’s lip wobbled. His small body trembled. “You’re… you’re dying.”

Buck forced a small, pained smile. “Nah. Just got a scratch.”

Tommy’s voice was still steady, but something about the way he was holding himself didn’t sit right.

His movements weren’t as sharp as before. His breathing—was it slower?

Buck frowned, barely able to focus through the haze in his head. His own arm pulsed with pain, but somewhere beneath the chaos, something felt wrong.

The kid didn’t believe him. His little hands clenched into fists. “I don’t wanna die. I want Mommy!” He hiccupped, panic rising, his breaths coming too fast now, too sharp. His small frame shook violently.

No.

Buck saw it an instant before it happened.

The kid snapped, bolting forward, little feet slapping against the floor, toward the chaos.

Straight toward the danger.

Buck’s stomach sank.

“Wait—!”

The shooter snapped toward the movement, instincts kicking in. His expression twisted, something between panic and rage flashing in his eyes.

“HEY!” His grip tightened on the gun—

Buck barely had time to react, his injured arm slowing him down as he lunged forward to grab the kid. The shooter lifted the gun. Buck saw his finger twitch on the trigger.

A flicker of movement.

A blur of motion.

Gunfire.

A choked sound.

Buck flinched, expecting pain—expecting the worst

But it wasn’t him.

Buck barely registered the body colliding with the shooter, the gun clattering to the floor, Tommy’s grunt of pain as he twisted, bringing the man down hard against the shattered glass.

Then—sirens.

The piercing wail cut through the air, growing louder, flashing red and blue outside. Someone shouted, but Buck didn’t hear the words.

Tommy wasn’t moving.

Buck struggled to sit up, adrenaline forcing him through the pain. “Tommy?” His own voice sounded distant, the rush in his ears deafening.

Tommy was on his side, breathing shallowly, fingers still twisted in the shooter’s jacket, keeping him pinned even as his strength faded.

His other hand—Buck’s stomach dropped.

Blood.

Pooling beneath his fingers. Dark. Spreading.

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his vision narrowing. No. No, no, no—

He scrambled closer, ignoring the fire in his own arm, pressing his good hand against Tommy’s.

It wasn’t just pooling—it was creeping outward, slow at first, then faster, seeping into the cracks of the floor, staining everything it touched. The warmth of it spread beneath Buck’s palm, slick and wrong. He pressed harder, but it kept coming. Too much. Too fast. The coppery scent thickened in the air, curling in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped. “Hey, Hey.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched weakly against the shooter’s jacket, his breath uneven. His eyes barely opened, unfocused.

Then, voice barely above a whisper— “The guy?”

Buck swallowed hard, blinking through the sting in his eyes. “Yeah, out. He’s out. I think he hit his head.”

“…Good.” Then his fingers slipped from the fabric of the shooter’s jacket. His body sagged, the last of his strength givingout.

“Shit—Tommy.”

Buck shifted quickly, his free hand moving from the wound to ease Tommy onto his back, trying to keep him steady as his body went slack.

Tommy grimaced, a sharp, pained inhale slipping through his teeth.

“I got you,” Buck murmured, his hand pressing down firmly on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Just stay with me, okay?”

Tommy gave a slow, unsteady nod.

Then his eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, Buck saw it—the pain breaking through the steel.

“…Fuck,” Tommy muttered, voice weak, a bitter, almost amused breath leaving him. “Didn’t—didn’t even feel that one.”

Buck barely breathed. His hand pressed harder against Tommy’s side, warm blood slick against his fingers. Too much blood.

Tommy exhaled sharply, shifting just slightly—and then he winced. His brow furrowed, like he was noticing something for the first time.

He blinked down at himself. "...Huh." His voice was almost puzzled, like the thought barely registered.

Buck followed his gaze and froze.

A second patch of blood—darker, smeared along Tommy’s jeans. His thigh.

Not from the gunshot just now. From before.

Buck’s stomach dropped. “Are you—” His voice broke, panic surging through him. “You were already shot?”

Tommy let out a breathy chuckle, dazed. “Guess so.” His fingers weakly gripped Buck’s wrist, half-hearted reassurance. “Didn’t notice.”

Didn’t notice.

Buck wanted to cry. "Okay, okay, you're okay—just breathe."

Tommy’s lips twitched—or maybe they were just trembling now. “Didn’t I t-tell you not t’ move?”

Buck let out a strangled laugh, something close to a sob. “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

A noise outside. Help was here. But so was the blood pooling beneath Tommy.

Buck leaned closer, grip tightening, his pulse hammering in his ears. “You stay awake, okay? Help is here. Just—just please stay with me.”

Tommy’s fingers curled weakly into Buck’s sleeve, his grip barely there, but there.

“Bu—Evan…” His voice was thin, broken by a sharp inhale. His body shuddered.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Tommy’s hold tightened for just a second.

“Evan, I—” His voice cracked, a faint wheeze threading through his words. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize—”

A cough tore through him, wet and weak. His breath hitched, and Buck felt the tremor beneath his hands.

“Tommy, stop,” Buck pleaded, panic thick in his throat. “You’re gonna be fine, just save it, okay? You can tell me later.”

But Tommy shook his head—just barely.

“Had to say it,” he murmured, voice slipping. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. “Was h’rd the…’thout you…”

Buck swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I know,” he whispered.

Tommy’s lips barely moved, but Buck caught it.

“…Loved…” It was barely more than a breath—a whisper, slipping between them.

The word faded on his tongue, unfinished. His grip on Buck’s sleeve slackened.

“Tommy?” His voice cracked, sheer terror ripping through him. “Tommy, hey, no, stay with me—”

“Tommy!” Buck’s voice rose.

But Tommy wasn't answering.

Buck pressed harder against the wound, his palm slick with blood, his hands shaking.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped, shaking him slightly. "Come on, open your eyes baby, just—just look at me."

Nothing.

No response.

The flashing lights flooded the room, red and blue bouncing off shattered glass. Boots pounded against the floor, heavy and fast. Someone was shouting orders.

A hand gripped Buck’s shoulder, trying to pull him back. but Buck fought them, twisting, shoving—he couldn't let go.

"No—wait, wait—he's not—Tommy!"

But the world was spinning, voices blurring together, hands forcing him away.

But all Buck could see was Tommy, unmoving, eyes slipping closed, blood staining his shirt, and the word echoing in his mind over and over.

Loved.

Loved you.

Loved me?

Loved.

The world swam back into focus slowly, thick and disoriented—white lights, the steady beeping of a monitor, the distant murmur of voices. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tight, lungs struggling to expand properly.

A hand pressed gently against his shoulder. “Easy, easy, Buck. You’re fine.”

Buck’s head turned sluggishly. “…Chim?”

“Yeah, you got me,” Chim said. “Maddie was just here—she’s coming back in a minute.”

Buck barely processed it. His body felt heavy, numb, like he was floating—but then—

Tommy.

Buck’s pulse spiked. "Tommy—? TOMMY!"

“Breathe, Buck—”

“No, Chimney, Tommy, he was—he was—”

“Buck.”

A new voice.

Buck whipped his head toward it, eyes still bleary but instantly locking onto Maddie as she entered the room.

“He’s fine, Buck.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. "Fine?"

Chim nodded, his tone light. “He’s alive, Buck. Just got out of surgery about an hour ago. Woke up for a minute, but then drifted back off. Surprisingly, you’ve been out longer than he has.” He gave Buck a teasing grin, trying to lift the mood.

Buck sucked in a breath, his throat tight, burning. “I need to see him.”

Maddie exhaled, already knowing there was no point arguing. “Buck, you just had sur—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chim cut in, sighing as he got up. “He won’t listen. Let’s take him to his room.”

"You need to be checked first,” Maddie insisted.

The minutes the nurse checked him, and the surgeon explaining his injury, felt like a lifetime.

Tommy was awake.

He lay still in the bed, his face pale, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. When he turned his head and saw Buck, a faint smile tugged at his lips, weak but sincere.

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, something tight, angry, relieved twisting in his chest.

“Tommy, if you try to leave me again in any way, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Tommy huffed out the smallest, breathy laugh. “Violence? Really? I just woke up.”

Buck’s throat burned,, a mix of worry and relief. His hands curling into fists. “And it’s Evan!”

Tommy blinked at that, lips twitching like he wanted to say something smart, but all he did was nod, slow.

Before either of them could say more, the door swung open.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Sargent grant.” “Athena.”

Tommy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “The guy?”

“He’s in custody.”

Tommy exhaled, half-relief, half-exhaustion.

“He was on drugs,” Athena continued, arms crossing over her chest. “Apparently, his ex-wife used to come here a lot. He must’ve been high, looking for her.”

“Anyone else?” Tommy asked.

Athena shook her head. “Just you two.” She paused. “Because you were sitting closest to the door.”

Tommy shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but winced, the movement clearly uncomfortable. “Huh.”

Buck studied him. “Huh?”

Tommy looked at him with half-lidded eyes, his voice slow and groggy. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Athena watched them both carefully, then sighed. “I’ll be back later for your statements, and I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake. And—” she shot Buck a pointed look “—that you snuck in here before you were cleared.”

Buck didn’t even react, his focus locked on Tommy.

A nurse came in to check Tommy’s vitals, adjusting the IV and making sure everything was steady. After a moment, she helped him sit up, propping him against the pillows. Then, she stepped back, nodding to the surgeon who entered next.

Then the surgeon explained Tommy’s surgery— The first shot, the one in his thigh, hadn’t gone deep—just a graze, but deep enough to bleed. The kind of wound that looked worse than it was. The kind of wound Tommy had barely even noticed at the time.

The second bullet had hit his spleen, causing major blood loss. The surgeons had been able to repair the damage, but in the end, they had to remove it.

He’d be okay. It would take time, but he’d be okay.

And then they were alone.

Tommy let out a breath, then huffed out something resembling a laugh. “No appendix, and now no spleen. What’s next?”

“Not funny.”

Tommy blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder weakly. “A little funny.”

Buck didn’t even bother responding. This wasn’t funny. None of this was. And then the words slipped out before Buck could stop them— “You said loved.”

Tommy blinked. “Did I?”

Buck didn’t waver. “You loved me.”

Tommy opened his mouth—then closed it.

Then, slowly, he sank deeper into the bed, exhaling softly. His gaze flickered away for just a second—like admitting it would make it impossible to take back.

Then, barely above a whisper—raw, honest, a little tired— “I did… still do.”

Buck let out a slow, shaky breath. The weight of the last few hours, the last few months, settling all at once.

His fingers moved before his mind could catch up.

His fingertips ghosted over Tommy’s knuckles, tracing along the edge of his hand, before finally curling around it.

Warm. Steady.

For a moment, Tommy stayed still—then, with a quiet inhale, he shifted his hand, palm turning slightly, fingers twitching before curling weakly around Buck’s. Holding on.

Buck swallowed, held Tommy’s gaze, and nodded once.

“Good.”

#and again this wasn't supposed to be this long I just yap a lot #i actually came here just to post this silly little thing lol #no creativity tho i was literally studying about gunshot injuries and thought ah yes bucktommy getting shot so tru #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #*

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