#Ambulance Exchange Point

[rafesgfs]

not his girlfriend

you’re not his girlfriend, but …

You're not his girlfriend, but you're the first person to listen to his ramblings. The first time he realizes, he notices he's been talking for too long without taking a breath, and you're still paying attention to what he's saying. Microbiology. You know nothing about the subject, asking him to clarify stuff while he talks. He's surprised because everyone always stops him.

You're not his girlfriend, but he knows your coffee orders. They're all disgustingly sweet, as the teams point out, but he knows what to get depending on the day. No matter how urgent the briefing is, he goes out of his way to stop at your favorite coffee shop. Every day, you're greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

You're not his girlfriend, but he comforts you after emotionally hard cases. You often find yourself in his arms after wrapping up the cases, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to stroke your hair. He'll spend the flight next to you, his pinky resting on your arm as a way to ground you without the rest of the team exchanging glances.

You're not his girlfriend, but you don't leave his side when he gets shot on the field. You hold his hand as the paramedics carry him in the ambulance, and you only let go when they take him into surgery. He wakes with you by his side, his fingers immediately intertwining with yours before he's even fully awake. You smile and tell him he's an idiot for taking that bullet for you. He replies back with a smile and a, "Better for me to be injured than you."

You're not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you're paired up on cases. He goes to shooting practices to prove to Hotch he can be on the field with you, to prove that he can protect you. He does the stuff you don't want to, mostly readings you don't want to spend hours on or bagging up a used condom from the toilet.

You're not his girlfriend, but you go to every nerdy event with him. Whether it's a Spock convention or some nature documentary showing, you're there by his side. No longer does he find the seats next to him empty. Instead, when he looks over, he sees you and smiles, because now he's not alone.

You're not his girlfriend, but his mom thinks you are. When you spend a few days in Las Vegas for a case, you visit his mom with him, meeting her for the first time. She greets you, smiling coyly at her son, asking you if you like dating her son. He spends the next few minutes trying to convince her you're just friends. And the rest of the month trying to convince himself.

You're not his girlfriend, but he kills the man holding you hostage. He's the first to notice you gone, and he's the first to burst through the door, gun out. He doesn't bother talking to the unsub, doesn't bother descaling the situation, doesn't bother to wait for the rest of the team to enter before delivering a bullet through the man's head. He doesn't bother stepping over the body before he unties you and takes you in his arms.

You're not his girlfriend, but he covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep. He turns the TV off, placing a pillow under your head softly, making sure you don't wake up with a sore neck. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, longing in his eyes as he watches you breathe.

You're not his girlfriend, but he wishes you were.

[smileysuh]

creep

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

tw/cw. dark content warning, serial killer Mingyu, mention of suicide, touch starved mingyu, switch mingyu, pussy eating, pussy worship, blow job, hand job, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, extreme voyeurism, mentions of non-consensual voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, manhandling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. Halloween, ghost!mingyu, serial killer!mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I really can't explain this one other than saying I tried to make Mingyu redeemable by saying he only killed bad men 👀

Out of all the guy friends you have over, Jeonghan is Mingyu’s favorite. He’s always up to no good, talking shit that Mingyu can listen to for hours, and tonight, he’s brought a Ouija Board, which has spiked Mingyu’s curiosity. 

“Come on, it will be fun,” Jeonghan insists. “I’ve been wanting to do a seance in your apartment since you moved in three months ago.”

You’re not as impressed as Mingyu is about the idea, and neither are your other friends.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Seungkwan says for the fifth time since the rag-tag group of friends entered your home. “We said we’d come back here between Halloween parties and drink, we never said anything about contacting the dude that killed himself here.”

Mingyu remembers the day you visited the apartment for the first time, the way the realtor had downplayed what happened here. Times are tough, and the price reduction had enticed you, despite Mingyu’s tragic history. 

“Come on, don’t you guys wanna ask why he did it?” Jeonghan presses.

“He did it because he was a top suspect in a string of murder cases,” Seungkwan fires back. “Case closed.”

Jeonghan scoffs loudly. “But what if he didn’t do it? What if the real serial killer came here, killed him, and made it look like a suicide-”

“Hannie,” you interrupt with a sigh, “what’s with you and your infatuation with murderers?”

“Me?!” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “Who’s the one who watches all my slasher films with me? Don’t pretend you're innocent here, we all know you have a thing for bad boys.”

Mingyu’s noticed your love for dangerous men, you’ve had your share of bad dudes over to this very apartment much to his annoyance. On the flip side, Mingyu does enjoy a good horror movie night, and you provide more than enough of those, especially this past month.

“We’re doing this,” Jeonghan insists, pulling the board out and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s Halloween. If there’s ever a night for this ghost to talk with us, it’s now.”

Seungkwan only groans, taking another shot while Seokmin and Soonyoung exchange worried glances.

“You don’t think the ghost is going to actually like… talk with us, do you?” the man in the tiger onesie asks, playing with his tail nervously. 

“Well, the veil is thinnest on Halloween… I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Jeonghan grins devilishly. 

Five minutes later, candles are set up and Seokmin is sheepishly turning off the lights before joining everyone by the board. 

Mingyu holds back, watching with interest.

“How do we start?” you ask.

“Imma rizz this ghost,” Jeonghan explains, looking around the room. “Is there a presence here with us?”

In the silence, Mingyu can hear an ambulance a few blocks away. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching.

“Don’t we have to touch the Ouija thing?” Seungkwan asks.

“Right.” Jeonghan reaches out only to have his hand slapped away by his friend.

“Not you,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You’ll rig it.”

Jeonghan sighs. “Fine, I’ll ask the questions, you all touch the planchette.”

It’s almost laughable how reluctant Seokmin is to touch the board, but soon, there are four sets of hands on it while Jeonghan addresses the room again. 

“Come on ghost,” he pleads, “don’t make me look bad, come say hi. If there’s a spirit with us, please move the planchette and tell us.”

Mingyu figures now is as good a time as any to communicate, God knows he’s waited years. With a sigh, Mingyu approaches the board. He crouches down next to you, reaching out. His fingers slip right through the planchette, but when he touches Seokmin, the man shivers.

“You okay?” you ask, looking at your friend.

“It just got really cold,” Seokmin breathes, already turning pale.

Mingyu tries again, this time aiming for Seokmin’s hands. The ghost focuses hard, willing the planchette to move, willing Seokmin’s hands to become his own. 

The small tool begins to shift on the board. 

“Soonyoung, cut it out,” Seungkwan snaps.

“It’s not me!” the tiger insists.

Little by little, the planchette shifts to Yes, and Mingyu lets out a deep breath at the effort it had taken.

“So there is a spirit here with us?” Jeonghan clarifies.

Again, Mingyu moves the planchette, slightly off of Yes then back again, an affirmative.

“I knew it!” Jeonghan practically screams. “Are you the guy who died here?”

Another Yes, and Mingyu’s getting annoyed with the questions already.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

Mingyu’s a little surprised that you’re beginning a line of inquiry, but he’s pleased too. Using Seokmin’s hands, he begins to slowly reveal his name. With each letter, your group reads it out loud.

“M… I… N… G… Y… U… Mingyu?” 

God, Mingyu likes the sound of his name on your lips.

A shift to Yes has the whole room going quiet and Mingyu waits for the next question.

“Okay guys, seriously, who’s doing this?” Seungkwan asks, ever the non-believer. 

“It’s not me!” Seokmin insists, followed by Soonyoung, who even crosses his heart to prove his own innocence.

“Did you really kill those guys?” Jeonghan questions, drawing all eyes.

“You can’t just ask that!” You bat at your friend’s arm.

Mingyu considers his next action, but with a sigh, he reaches for Seokmin’s hands again, using him to push the planchette to Yes. In Mingyu’s eyes, all the men he’d killed deserved it. They’d been predators, and it takes one to know one. Mingyu had simply been the better predator.

“How many people did you kill?”

“Jeonghan,” you say again, harder this time.

“We’re fact-checking!” Jeonghan insists. “If he gives us the wrong number, then someone here is lying.”

Mingyu doesn’t like to be tested like this, but at the same time, he admires the man’s shiftyness. The ghost reaches through Seokmin, pushing the planchette to 5.

Seokmin lets out a gasp, tearing his hands away from the board and leaping to his feet. “Guys, I don’t feel good about this.”

“But it’s just started to get juicy!” Jeonghan tuts. 

“We’re not going to force Seokmin to do this if he doesn’t want to,” you sigh, also removing your hands. “I think this is enough for tonight.”

Jeonghan’s not so easily convinced. “But we just made contact!” 

“It’s almost midnight, I thought you wanted to be at the bar for eleven fifty so your bouncer friend would let you in,” you point out.

“Let me in…” Jeonghan raises a brow. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Honestly?” you sigh. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

“But it’s Halloween!”

“And we’ve already been to one party and just used a Ouija board,” you laugh. “I think I’ve had enough fun.”

“You’re boring!” Jeonghan groans. 

“And you’re crazy!” you retort, heading to turn on the lights. “Say goodbye to your ghost friend, take another shot, and get out of here so I can get some sleep.”

Mingyu likes it when you take charge like this. He stands from the table, coming to join you as you head to the kitchen to get your friends their last shots. He’s always liked sticking close to you, your second ghostly shadow. 

The last tenant had been a guy, and the view had never been very great, but with you around? Mingyu is constantly entertained, in the most perverted ways possible. He’s really enjoying the skimpy outfit you’re wearing, and he can’t wait to watch you take it off. Maybe you’ll have a shower once your friends are gone- you’ll make his night if you do.

“Goodbye,” Seungkwan says loudly, pushing the planchette to the word scrawled in big writing. Mingyu’s not so easily dismissed, but Seokmin lets out a breath of relief as the board is closed and packed up.

You all take one last shot, and Mingyu can practically taste the tequila on his tongue. It’s been forever since he had anything to drink, or eat, or fuck for that matter. 

He misses it every day. 

The ghost hangs back as you hug your friends goodbye, with Jeonghan trying for five minutes to convince you to join the last bar outing. You stay firm, and Mingyu grins to himself when you finally close the door, shutting you in together.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the kitchen, putting the shot glasses and bottles away, then, to Mingyu’s pleasure, you head toward the bathroom. He follows closely, slipping in behind you before you can close the door. As a ghost, Mingyu can walk through walls, but it’s an unpleasant experience, one he avoids when he can.

He watches you turn on the shower, facing the mirror to remove your false eyelashes. You’re so pretty, and when you begin to take off your outfit, Mingyu practically drools. He can stare at your naked body for hours and not get bored, in fact, he has. 

You step into the shower, closing the curtain. Your silhouette is still as beautiful as ever, and Mingyu can feel his cock getting hard as he watches you. Voyeurism is something he’s always enjoyed, even as a human, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s something that makes Mingyu’s undead life go round. 

He palms himself through his jeans, looking for relief but also not wanting to take things too far. Knowing you, he’ll probably get a free show if he waits long enough. Your sex drive rivals even his own, and Mingyu’s nothing if not a good boy who knows how to be patient. 

***

You get out of the shower feeling refreshed. Your blood is still buzzing slightly from the drinks you’ve had, but you feel clear-headed as you wipe the mirror, looking at yourself while you wrap a towel around your naked body.

Your phone dings and you look down at it, reading Jeonghan’s contact name. It’s a text to tell you that your friends have gotten to the bar, and another request for you to join. You can only laugh, setting your phone down just as the clock hits midnight.

There’s movement in the corner of your eye and you turn your head, locking eyes with a tall, dark-haired man standing by the door of your bathroom.

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you immediately grab the closest thing, a hairbrush, hurling it at the man. He doesn’t even try to dodge it, and it hits him square in the chest. His gaze dips down, and he looks completely shocked that you’ve just thrown something at him.

“Get out of my house!” you scream, reaching for the next item-

“Not your expensive moisturizer!” the man yells, holding up both hands and backing up. “How are you going to explain breaking that to Jeonghan?!”

You freeze a little at his words, thoroughly confused. “How- how do you know-” You look down at the bottle of moisturizer that Jeonghan had bought for you last month. “Did Jeonghan put you up to this?!”

“Put the bottle down,” the man says, still holding his hands defensively. 

“You’re some creep in my bathroom!” you retort. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You grab your phone next. “I’m calling 911.”

“God, please don’t,” he sighs.

“Start talking!” you insist.

“I’m not Jeonghan’s friend-”

“Then who the fuck are you, and how did you get into my apartment?!” You lift the moisturizer again, ready to throw it at his face.

“Mingyu!” he belts. “I’m Mingyu!”

“Jeonghan definitely put you up to this,” you declare, feeling something like relief. This is just some prank-

“I’m serious,” the handsome man tells you. “I’m Mingyu-”

“You expect me to believe that you’re the ghost of that serial killer who died here years ago?” you scoff.

“Yeah, it was me with the Ouija,” he tries to explain.

“Prove it,” you insist, still not believing him. 

“You want me to tell you something only a ghost would know?” he laughs. “How about this, I know you hide your sex toys in a box under your bed. I know the last few guys you’ve had over couldn’t make you cum so you’d finish yourself off with your vibrator once they left. I know you still say your first boyfriend’s name whenever you cum, for some stupid reason-”

Your heart is thundering in your chest. There’s no way he can know all of that- no one knows all of that-

Why is everything he’s saying sex related?

An unfamiliar feeling washes over your form. It’s something like fear, but there’s an underlying emotion there too- a tingle between your legs. Is this guy really a ghost? Is he your ghost? Has he been watching you since you moved in?!

“Believe me now?” Mingyu asks. He must have seen the way you’ve faltered, moisturizer bottle lowering to your side.

“How-” You swallow thickly. “How are you here?”

“That’s actually a good question,” Mingyu admits, looking down at his form. “This doesn’t usually happen.” 

“The veil is thinnest on Halloween,” you breathe, remembering what Jeonghan had said earlier. “It’s midnight…”

“Sounds right to me.” The ghost nods. 

“How… how long are you going to be visible for?” you ask, eyes dragging across his large body.

“I don’t know… but, when you threw that brush at me, it hit me.” Mingyu steps toward you and you move back, hitting the wall. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna touch you-”

“As if that makes me feel any better!” You’re frozen as his hand reaches out, fingers coming to gently brush your collarbone. You shiver at the cold contact.

“You.. you felt that!” Mingyu’s eyes widen with shock.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask.

“What?!” He laughs, moving even closer.

“You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?” This is just your luck.

“I only killed men, guys who were predators.”

“Like you.”

“Like me,” he admits. “But… my brutality never came out toward women.”

The ghost has no right being this beautiful, and he’s saying the right things. You can’t believe you’re actually starting to relax a little. You’ve definitely seen too many horror films-

“You… you’ve been watching me,” you point out.

Your words seem to make him almost bashful, his gaze dipping to the floor. You see his skin flush a pinkish colour and it’s almost endearing. “Uh… yeah.”

“And you were in here while I was having a shower too… You are a bit of a creep, aren’t you?”

“Every other tenant here has been a guy!” Mingyu exclaims. “You’re the first one who’s actually caught my attention.”

“I feel like you’re just horny after years of being alone.”

“You would be too,” he insists. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever -  you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” 

He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu’s perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

“Can I…” he swallows thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

You can’t believe you’re actually considering this.

“Come on, please?” Mingyu asks. “I haven’t touched someone in so long, haven’t been touched-” 

A dead serial killer who sort of respects your autonomy and is begging for you? 

“We don’t know how long this is going to last,” he continues. “I need to feel something, need to feel you-” 

“Fucking a ghost wasn’t on my Halloween bingo sheet,” you joke.

“It will be fun,” Mingyu insists. “I know what you like, I know your kinks, I know you, better than all those other guys you’ve fucked so far. Come on, princess, let me make you feel good.” 

It’s kind of creepy that the ghost even knows your preferred pet name, but it sounds so pretty coming from him. 

You weigh the pros and cons. 

Pros: He’s one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen. He actually wants to make you cum. He already knows your kinks. He might be a touch obsessed with you, which would do wonders for your ego.

Cons: He’s literally a dead serial killer creep who’s been watching you jack off and get fucked for a few months. He could also disappear at any second.

Well, you can’t pass this up, especially since you have no idea how long this will last. And when he’s gone, he’ll stay gone. There are technically no strings, none that you can see at least.

And to top it all off, you’re extremely horny. You’d stayed back from going to the bar with your friends specifically to fuck yourself stupid tonight, and now, you have a ghost willing to get the job done for you.

“Okay, big guy,” you sigh. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second. He grabs your face, cupping his large hand around the back of your skull to pull your lips to his own. 

You’re a little shocked, but you melt into his embrace quickly, pressing your hands to his beefy chest while his tongue licks at your lip, begging for entry. You open your mouth to him, and he kisses you deeper, letting out a low groan as he shifts you in his embrace, grabbing at your hip to pull you closer.

It’s been years since he’s touched anyone, but he kisses with the best of them. 

It’s almost too easy to get lost in Mingyu, your mind going pleasantly blank as you make out with the ghost. 

You’re eating up the sounds he’s making too. His mouth is eager against your own, all tongue and plump lips. It’s clear that your ghost has been very touch-starved. His hand gropes at your waist, toying with the towel still wrapped around your body. 

You can’t help yourself, you reach a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock through his jeans.

Mingyu pants against your lips, breaking the kiss to look down at where you’re touching him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, pressing his hips forward for more friction.

He’s literally adorable, and so receptive. 

“You’ll take care of me first though, right?” you toy, squeezing your hand tighter around the large bulge in his pants.

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly, nodding. “Been wanting to taste your pussy for fucking months.”

Your core throbs at his words- he’s got a big dick and he likes oral? Your night just keeps getting better.

“Then you should taste me,” you tell him. “I’m even sweeter than I look.”

Mingyu lets out a deep groan, and then he’s sinking to his knees on the bathroom floor. His mouth finds your calf, and his large hands grab at your leg, adjusting it onto his shoulder while his lips ascend to your thigh. 

You lean back against the wall, trying to catch your breath while the large man gets closer and closer to where you need him most.

He reaches up, grabbing at your towel and tugging. In one motion, you’re naked for him, and the cool air of the bathroom has your skin tingling, nipples pebbling with interest.

Mingyu spreads your legs wider, and you can feel his breath on your pussy. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, and then he’s diving in. He’s all tongue, the wet muscle pushing into your hole to taste you while he releases an almost animalistic groan of appreciation.

It’s clear this man is a pussy lover, and you can’t believe he’s gone so long without having his mouth on one. You’re more than happy to make up for the lost time, enjoying the feeling of him pressing his face closer to your wet core, tongue lapping at you while he begins to grind his nose against your clit.

He definitely knows how to eat, and you find yourself closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His hands are on your hips, but one trails up, grasping for your breast. The added stimulation of his thumb and pointer pinching your nipple has you crying out, hips rutting toward his face.

He just feels so good- and when his lips move to suction around your clit, your thigh quakes on his shoulder. “Fuck-” you moan loudly, shocked that it’s been this easy for him to get you to the cusp of an orgasm. 

Most men don’t know how to handle you, but it’s clear that he does. 

You can feel yourself practically dripping, and you’re not sure if it’s pussy juice or the ghost’s drool, but you don’t really care. It’s sinful and sexy and dirty- exactly what Halloween should be. 

Mingyu lets go of your breast, adjusting his hand- two fingers slide into your core while his mouth continues on your clit, and you swear this purgatory-bound sinner has just taken you to heaven. 

You’re a mewling mess now, moans and gasps leaving you uncensored while his thick fingers stretch out your core, pushing in and out while his tongue flicks at your most sensitive spot.

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him, eyes clenched shut as the knot in your stomach is pulled tighter and tighter-

The man between your legs groans in response, driving his fingers into you faster and harder, his mouth making lewd sucking sounds around your clit. 

It’s everything you need to reach your high and you gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his hair while your orgasm washes over you. Your hips buck against his face, only for his free hand to pin you to the wall, his motions never ceasing while you cry out, your core throbbing around his fingers.

No one has ever eaten you out this good. Your mind is practically blank, body completely overwhelmed with the pleasure surging through you. 

It’s almost too much for you to handle, and you find yourself tugging at Mingyu’s hair, trying to pull him away-

He won’t budge, growling heavily against your core. The vibration makes your legs twitch, and you’re not sure you’ll even be able to stand if he keeps this up-

Finally, Mingyu pulls away. He’s panting hard. His fingers slip out of your pussy only for him to place them in his mouth, sucking them clean while he groans lewdly. “Fuck,” he mumbles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. “That was so good.”

You can’t even speak yet, too breathless from the mind-numbing orgasm to even think. 

Mingyu stands up, and you have to tilt your head to retain eye contact. God, why’s he so big and fuckable?

“Look at you, princess. You usually have good comebacks.” He leans forward, breath hot against your face. “Ghost got your tongue?”

You can’t help but laugh slightly, and Mingyu grins down at you. Then he’s cupping your cheek again, bringing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself as he kisses you deeply, but you don’t even care. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing your boobs against his chest.

You need to be closer to him. Need to feel him, fully.

Mingyu reaches down, grabbing your ass and lifting you off the ground. Your legs wrap around his hips and the ghost carries you through the apartment, gently setting you onto your bed.

He towers over your now and your pussy throbs at the idea of how well he’s about to wreck you.

“You still want me, right?” he asks. “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

You nod, licking your lips. “I know you will.”

“I’m a good boy,” Mingyu says quietly, eyes dipping down to your core.

“Then be a good boy and take off your shirt, I want to see you.”

He’s quick to comply, tearing off the black fabric to reveal his muscular chest. Your pussy throbs at the sight alone. His arms are huge, biceps bulging deliciously, and his pecs look downright biteable. Then there are his abs-

You sit up, trying to contain yourself. “Pants next.”

“Fuck, princess,” Mingyu groans, already working on his belt. “Has anyone ever told you how fucking perfect you are?”

“You’d know if they had, wouldn’t you, Ghost?” 

“These fucking dudes you have over,” Mingyu clicks his tongue, “none of them have known how to treat you right.”

“But you do?”

“Of course!” he scoffs, pushing his pants and underwear down, revealing the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. “Name one other guy who’s eaten your pussy like I have.”

He knows you too well.

“I should return the favour,” you suggest. 

“Fuck, I’d die all over again if you did.”

You get onto your knees, shuffling closer. You kiss him first, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other moves down to his cock, stroking him gently while he whines against your lips. He ruts his hips, forcing more friction while you grin into the kiss. 

“Needy Ghost,” you laugh.

“Need you so fucking bad,” he agrees. 

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting, should I?” 

“Please, don’t.”

You begin to kiss down his neck, taking your time as you trail your mouth across his body. You appreciate every centimeter, all the way down his pretty chest and abs. You trace your tongue along his hip bone and the ghost shivers, letting out a shuddery breath. “Holy shit.” 

“You’ll be nice and praise me while I have my mouth full, won’t you, handsome?” You sneak a glance up at him as you take him in your hand, adjusting his cock. 

“Yeah-” He swallows thickly. “I know how much my princess loves being told she’s a good girl.”

“Am I your good girl?” 

“So fucking good,” he nods eagerly. “So fucking good for me I can’t even believe it.”

You smile to yourself, pressing a chaste kiss to the head of his leaking cock that has the Ghost practically whimpering. 

“Fuck, can I- can I grab your hair?”

“Uh huh,” you lick a stripe along the head of his cock, circling it with your tongue while the gorgeous man shivers at the contact. 

“Please don’t tease me,” he begs, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “I don’t- don’t know how much time I have with you, and I’ll die if we spend the whole time teasing and I don’t even get to feel your perfect fucking pussy-”

You wrap your mouth around his cock, agreeing with what he’s saying, and it earns an immediate moan of appreciation from the man towering over you.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good- you feel so fucking good-”

You swirl your tongue around his length, running it along the crease between the head and shaft. Mingyu’s grip tightens in your hair as more breathy moans spill from his lips. 

He’s much too big to fit in your mouth, so you pump what you can’t reach, using your saliva as lube to make stroking easier while you suck on him. Your eyes are closed, mind focused on pleasuring him the way he’d just pleasured you in the bathroom.

It feels good to be giving something back to him, especially as praises and words of encouragement fill the room. “Just like that, just like that, holy shit-”

You take him as deep as you can go, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, which constricts around him.

“Oh my god-” he practically whimpers, fingers flexing in your hair. “Please let me fuck your face, please, I want it so bad-”

You make a sound of affirmation and that’s all it takes for Mingyu to release a low groan, pushing his hips forward. He hits the back of your throat again and you do your best to clear your mind, focusing on anything but the gagging sensation as he begins to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

“Holy shit, good girl, good fucking girl-” he moans, quickening his pace. His grip on your head keeps you where he wants you, and it’s clear he’s being cognizant of not making you gag too hard. He seems to know your boundary, know just what to do without making it too much.

“Fuck, it’s too good- you’re too fucking good at this, princess,” Mingyu pants. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum but I promise I’ll still fuck you, I promise my recharge time is quick-”

You suction your cheeks harder around him and Mingyu practically cries out, grip tightening in your hair so hard it almost hurts. He’s a garbled mess of swear words now, and a few thrusts later he’s cumming down your throat, releasing the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard while his hips shudder with effort.

“Holy shit, good girl, good girl-” he groans, motions slowing as he cums rope after rope- “Taking me so fucking well, oh my god-” 

Mingyu pulls out of your mouth, breathing hard. He looks down at you while you also take a few deep breaths. 

It’s the oddest thing. His cum hadn’t tasted like anything. There was no salt or musk- it was just… different. You suppose he’s a ghost, so that could account for the lack of flavour, and you almost prefer it that way. 

“That was so good,” Mingyu tells you. “You’re good, right?” 

You nod, pulling away from him to fall back against the bed again. “I’m perfect.”

“Yeah, you are,” the ghost laughs. 

“So are you going to make me cum again, or…?” you cock your head to the side, assessing him.

He’s still trying to catch his breath, cheeks all flushed, hair a tangle of dark curls. He looks beautiful.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mingyu grins, and the smile lights up his whole face. “I know you probably want two or three more, you’re insatiable like that, aren’t you, princess?”

“I guess it takes one to know one,” you laugh. “I bet you usually cum two or more times watching me, don’t you, Ghost boy?”

“Guilty.” He runs his fingers through his wild hair. “But my hand is nothing compared to you.”

“Funny, my hand is nothing compared to you either.”

“Match made in heaven,” Mingyu muses, getting onto the bed to join you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him in for another breathtaking kiss.

He slots so well between your legs, one hand pressed to the bed while the other comes up to massage your breast. You moan against his lips, arching your back, wanting more. His thumb brushes over your nipple and then he’s pinching it, making you cry out.

“You like a little pain, don’t you, princess?” he grins, looking down at you.

“A little,” you admit.

“You know…” his hand moves up from your breast, teasing over your collarbone, “sometimes, when you’re trying to make yourself cum, and you choke yourself- it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab his hand, guiding it to your throat. 

In the back of your mind, you remember that this hot ghost is also a killer- but his hands are shockingly soft and gentle as he squeezes your neck. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous,” he groans.

“Tighter,” you tell him, stroking his forearm while the muscles move beneath the skin, his hand pressing harder onto your airway.

You let out a small whimper, closing your eyes and enjoying the lightheaded feeling. 

“Ready for my fingers again?” he asks.

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first,” he insists, letting go of your throat so he can trail his hand down your body until he’s cupping your pussy. You buck against his hand and he grins. “So eager.”

“Be a good boy and make princess cum again,” you tell him.

It’s an interesting kink for him to have - the whole good boy angle -  you would have thought a man like him would be a full dom, but you kind of enjoy this switchy side. It allows you to tell him what to do, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy holding a lot of the power in this interaction.

Two of his fingers slip into your core and you both groan at the feeling. “Still so fucking wet,” the ghost muses. “Did sucking me off turn you on that much?”

“I like the sounds you make,” you admit, rocking your hips against his hand while he palms your clit.

“Yeah?” His grin widens. 

“You’re my perfect puppy,” you sigh happily as he finger fucks you even harder. 

Mingyu reacts to the new petname with a low groan and you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his lips to your own. You love the way his tongue invades your mouth, teasing and tasting but not dominating. 

His fingers continue to stretch you out, his palm a constant pressure on your clit. You can’t fucking wait to take his cock, and it’s just one orgasm away. 

You break the kiss to move your mouth to his neck, loving the whimpery sounds of appreciation that leave him as you begin sucking on his skin. There’s no reason not to leave marks, so you go as hard as you want, teasing your teeth over his jugular while it bounces with effort.

“Fuck, fuck-” Mingyu groans loudly, clearly enjoying the attention being paid to his pretty throat.

You can feel your core beginning to throb, your pussy tightening as another orgasm approaches, doing its best to keep Mingyu’s fingers buried knuckle deep even as he drives them into you rougher and rougher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Mingyu asks, breathless. “Please tell me you’re gonna cum again.”

You can feel his cock, hard and pressed to your leg, leaking from how turned on he is while he finger fucks you and you kiss his throat. He’s so easy to make come undone. It boosts your ego like nothing else, and your pussy pulses with desire.

“I’m close,” you tell him, licking at his throat and making your way to his ear. “Be a good boy and make me cum.”

Mingyu groans loudly, and then he’s suddenly pulling away from you, moving down the bed to get between your legs again. His fingers don’t stop inside of you, but his free hand pushes your thigh up, giving him more space as he brings his lips to your clit.

“Holy shit-” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your head loll back against the pillows. You hadn’t thought you’d get his mouth on you like this again- but you suppose you had commanded him to make you cum, and this position is a tried and true winner. 

You can’t even tell him you’re about to cum, he simply tears it out of you. Your back arches off the bed, a sinful whine escaping your lips while your thighs quiver, pussy clamping down on his fingers, your clit throbbing desperately. Mingyu lets out a growl, slurping hard at the sensitive bud, and it brings tears to your eyes at how good it feels.

You feel like you’re the ghost now, your soul practically leaving your body while Mingyu works you through another one of the most intense orgasms of your entire life.

When he finally pulls away from your core, you can’t even open your eyes. You can only lay there, trying to catch your breath while the bed dips under his weight. You feel his hands digging into the pillows on either side of your head, and then something brushes by your nose.

You open your eyes to find Mingyu staring down at you, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your own. “You good, princess?”

“I’m perfect,” you tell him, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

You catch his cock between your bodies and a moan leaves you at how big he feels. 

“Ready for more?” he asks.

You can only nod, grabbing at his shoulders to drag him into a kiss. It’s almost relaxing to take a minute to just kiss him, mind blank, body still tingling in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Then Mingyu begins to rut his hips, dragging his cock through your pussy lips and making you groan when he bumps your clit.

You’re the one who reaches between your bodies, grabbing his dick to line it up with your core.

Mingyu watches you carefully and you give him a small nod. “Do it,” you tell him. “Fuck me stupid.”

He only laughs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes into you. Your pussy swallows him inch by inch, with you clawing at his shoulders when he’s finally all the way in. 

You’ve never felt anything like Mingyu- he stretches you out in a way that most men can only dream of. You feel small, fragile, needy- almost like a virgin again, and the way he’s kissing you eagerly definitely brings back memories of first times. 

He begins to thrust gently, allowing your body time to adjust to his massive size. You’re a little shocked at how easy the glide of it is, but you suppose you’re wetter than you’ve ever been after having cum so hard twice. It feels absolutely all-consuming. His cock is practically all you can think about as you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him deeper.

Mingyu is groaning into your mouth, and the sounds fuel your entire body with even more lust. You trail one hand down his back, enjoying the way it makes him shiver. 

“Do I feel good, Gyu?” you ask.

“You feel perfect,” he tells you, burying his face against your throat. His mouth is hot as he leaves wet kisses there, his hips moving even faster. “So fucking good. Better than I ever imagined.”

“You’ve imagined me a lot, haven’t you, big guy?”

“So many times-” he admits. “Never thought… never thought I’d actually get to fuck you like this.”

“Just wait till you make me cum while buried inside of me,” you grin, tilting your head so he can press fevered kisses to your jaw while groaning loudly. 

“Fuck-” One of his hands moves to your hip, keeping you pinned. He’s fucking you so hard now that the bed is rocking, but you can’t bring yourself to care about neighbors. “Wait, flip around for me, I know you go wild for doggy.”

God, it’s so easy with him. 

He has you on your knees in seconds, large hands cupping your hips to adjust your ass higher as he slips back inside of you. This new position makes him feel even bigger, if that’s possible, and it makes your toes curl. 

With each hard snap of his hips, your ass slaps back against his front. The sound of skin on skin mixed with his moans is doing something crazy to you- you’re completely consumed by him. There’s not a thought in your head other than “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, harder Gyu, harder!”

He’s more than willing to comply, railing you like you’ve never been railed before.

You can feel fluids beginning to drip down your legs, that’s how wet you are. Stroke game has never been this easy.

Then he reaches around your front, leaning over your back so he can access your clit. You cry out from the stimulation, core clenching deliciously around the large intrusion. “Holy shit-” you whimper.

“Can you cum for me again, princess?” Mingyu asks, breath hot against your shoulders. 

“Are you close?” you gasp, feeling another orgasm building achingly fast.

“Yeah, but I want at least one more out of you,” the ghost says. “It’s Halloween, you deserve it.”

“I deserve it?” you nearly laugh, but the giggle is quick to turn into a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit.

“Yeah, of course you deserve it. You’re being so good for me, so fucking good-”

The praise goes straight to your pussy and you tangle your hands in the sheets. “Gyu-”

“That’s it, please, princess, wanna feel you cum.” He digs his fingers into your hip, drawing consistent circles on your clit. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and you wonder how many times he’s watched you make yourself cum like this.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans. “Fuck you feel amazing. Come on, cum for me. Come on, pretty girl.”

Your body twitches and you let out a gasp, tensing before your release hits you straight on. Your eyes clench shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, a strangled moan escaping you as pleasure surges through you. Your mind practically short circuits, your brain blank except for the pure ecstasy he’s providing. 

Mingyu lets out a loud groan, panting harder as he fucks you through your high. He pulls his hand away from your clit in favour of grabbing your hips again, pushing his entire cock into your aching hole over and over again.

“Just like that, just like that-” he tells you. “Fuck, you’re literally dripping, holy shit-”

You don’t even care that your bed sheets are going to be ruined after this- all you care about is the man behind you fucking you like it’s his last night on earth. To be fair, it just might be.

“Good princess,” Mingyu breathes. “So good for me.”

“Gyu-” you whimper trying to push yourself up onto your hands. You rut your hips back to meet his thrusts and he lets out another guttural moan of appreciation. “I wanna ride you till you cum.”

You think he deserves it. 

In fact, you know he deserves it.

This man has made you cum three times already, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to return the favor. 

“You wanna ride me?” Mingyu stops with his cock fully inside of you, and his hand smooths down your back. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, pushing back against him in an attempt to get him even deeper. “Bet you miss being ridden, don’t you, big guy?”

He lets out a groan, and then he’s removing his cock from your core, practically pouncing onto the bed next to you. He grabs your hips, helping you straddle him. While you reach between your bodies to grab his cock and line it up with your core, he slips a hand around the back of your skull, pulling your lips down to meet yours.

The ghost is grinning into the kiss and it’s almost laughable how excited he is. 

You sink down onto his length and you both release loud moans into each other’s mouths. 

It feels so good to be filled up like this. You begin by grinding against him, adjusting to his size. You can feel him so deep, all the way in the pit of your stomach.

He grabs at your thighs then your boobs, and you can tell he’s having difficulty deciding which parts of you he wants to worship. Then he takes a fistful of your ass, squeezing rough enough to have you whimpering while his tongue invades your mouth.

You begin to ride him, bracing your hands against his chest.

Mingyu is just so big- the sexiest man you’ve ever fucked and there’s no contest in that.

He’s so good at kissing too, moaning into it while you pick up the speed of your thrusts. 

He grabs your hips, helping you bounce up and down. Each movement fills you up deliciously, your drenched core swallowing him up like you were made for this.

You pull away from his lips, straightening while you ride him. Mingyu takes the opportunity to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands while his thumbs tease your nipples. You cover his hand with one of your own, urging him to squeeze harder. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty,” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting up to meet you.

His cock is hitting even deeper now, and you swear no one has ever been this deep inside of you before. There’s literally nothing in the world like Mingyu… or his cock. 

“Look at you taking all of me,” he continues, cheeks flushed pink, breath hot. “I always knew you’d be able to- always knew you’d be a fucking champ in bed.”

You want to tell him he’s one to talk, but it seems the ghost has got your tongue again. All you can do is moan lewdly, riding him harder and ignoring the burn of your thighs.

Mingyu sits up, leaning forward to take your breast into his mouth. His tongue flicks by your nipple and you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him to your chest. He groans deeply as you pull on his hair, teeth grazing the sensitive bud caught between his lips.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, core clenching tight around his cock.

The ghost pants loudly, giving your breast one last kiss before he flops down onto his back again. “You close?” he asks, reaching out so his thumb can find your clit, rubbing it.

“Fuck, yeah- if you keep doing that, yeah, I’m close-” you nod, clawing at his chest.

“I need you to cum with me,” Mingyu tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

“Me too, me too-” you assure him, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock filling you up perfectly while his thumb works harder on your clit.

“Want you on top,” the ghost continues, “but I want to take over. Can you rub yourself for me?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, leaning over him so you can press your lips to his own. Your hand sneaks between your legs, and you hover over him, thrusts coming to a stop while he gets a grip on your hips.

His tongue battles your own as he begins to piston up into you- God, it feels even better when he’s the one fucking you from below. All you have to do is hold yourself over him with one shaky arm while your fingers work on your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Oh my god-” you mumble against his mouth, and it only makes him smile, rutting up into you even faster. 

“I can’t-” he breaks the kiss to burry his face against your throat, “I can’t hold off much longer, please tell me you’re gonna cum with me, please-”

“I will!” you whine. “I’m so close-”

His mouth is hot against your neck and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you cry out. He groans loudly at the way your core tightens around his massive cock. Then he’s pulling away from your throat, wrapping a hand around it instead.

“Look at me,” he instructs. “Want to watch you cum.”

You force your eyes open, gasping as he tightens his grip on your neck. You’re so fucking close you can almost taste it. 

His other arm adjusts, palm snaking up your back as he fucks up into you wildly.

“Can I give you a countdown?” he asks.

You nod enthusiastically. He’s choking you too hard to answer. Your blood is rushing to your head and your pussy, body practically on fire-

“Three-” he moans loudly, staring up at you with dark eyes. “Two-” a small grunt leaves his lips, fingers digging into your back. “One! Cum with me- please, fuck, cum with me!” 

You let out a gasp, all the tension in your body snapping like the cord in your stomach. Pleasure washes over you, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It’s better than the first three orgasms if that’s even possible, and if it weren’t for the tight grip on your neck cutting off most of your sounds, you’re sure you’d be screaming.

Mingyu’s deep groans are only making you more turned on as your core throbs around his cock. He’s still fucking you, but soon the pleasure seems to be even too much for him. He drags you fully against his chest, burying himself completely in your pussy while he fills you up with his cum. 

He releases your throat in favor of smashing his lips against your own, tongue running against your teeth while he groans loudly. You whimper into the kiss, pussy still pulsing around him.

This has to be one of the longest orgasms you’ve ever had- and with his massive cock still buried inside of you, your pussy gets practically no reprieve. All you can do is gasp and whimper against his lips while your body struggles to process the insane amount of pleasure that’s still coursing through you.

Mingyu lets out a laugh, resting down against the pillows and looking up at you. “Was that good?” he asks. 

You can only shake your head at him, letting out a small chuckle as the last of your orgasm wafts through you like a warm summer breeze. 

“Yeah,” his hand smooths up and down your back, “it was good for me too.”

“You literally just ruined me for anyone else.”

“That was the goal, princess.” He grins.

“You’re so bad.”

“Obviously you have a thing for bad boys.”

“And ghosts, apparently.” You’re still coming to terms with what you’ve just done. Part of you wonders if this is just some crazy dream.

“Just me though, right?” He kisses you gently and it leaves you wanting more.

“For now, but if I meet another ghost with a huge cock, maybe that will change,” you tease.

Mingyu sighs, shaking his head at you. “We should probably get you cleaned up, then… can we cuddle? I’m still not sure how long you’ll be able to see me, and… I think ending the night holding you would be nice.”

A ghost who loves eating pussy, made you cum four times, has a massive cock, and wants to spoil you with some aftercare-

You’re for sure ruined for any other guy you meet and you know it. 

It sucks to have to get off of Mingyu’s dick, and your legs hurt, but he helps you to the bathroom with a shit-eating grin. “Never seen you walk like this after being fucked,” he muses.

“No one’s fucked me like you just did and you know it,” you laugh. 

He gives you a bit of privacy while you pee and get all the cum off of you, but he joins you when you begin to brush your teeth. Mingyu stands behind you, hands finding your hips, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. 

“Tomorrow, when you get ready for bed, imagine me right here,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“Yeah?” You press your ass back against him. “Is this usually where you stand while I brush my teeth?”

“Uh huh.” His hands move from your hips to grab onto your tits, squeezing them. “Gonna miss being able to touch you.”

You frown a little at his words, spitting into the sink before turning in his arms. “I’m gonna miss you too, Gyu.”

“Really?” He grins. “So no more fucking randoms?”

You laugh. “Do you expect me to wait a whole nother year just to get railed again?”

“I guess that does sound impossible,” Mingyu sighs. “Just know that any guy you do bring over… I’ll be watching.”

“And judging, I bet.” He’s so obsessed with you that it hurts. 

“Always.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask. “Waiting for a whole year before you can fuck me again?”

“You know what I’m going to do,” he grins. “Every time you touch yourself, I’ll be touching myself too.”

God, this is going to take masturbation to a whole new level.

“Do you…” you swallow. “If I got Jeonghan’s ouija board, do you think you could communicate with me through it? I mean… you’ve never thrown books around or done anything like this before so-”

“Maybe,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I kind of had to use Seokmin’s hands as my own tonight, but, I could try it with just you. But you can’t expect to ask a question and have the wooden thing move to an answer on its own.” 

“Okay, noted.” You let out a sigh. “Now come to bed with me, puppy. I need a good cuddle.”

He lets you take his hand, guiding him back to your room where he joins you under your duvet. 

Mingyu is quick to adjust you as his little spoon, pulling you tight to his chest. One arm is secured under your head as a mock pillow, and the other hand cups your breast. His breath is hot against your neck.

“Would it be too soon to say I love you?” he asks suddenly.

You can only laugh. You’ve just met him tonight, but you suppose he’s been watching you for months at this point. You can only imagine how much he’s pined for you by this point. 

“You can say it, but I can’t return the sentiment, not now at least,” you admit.

“That’s okay, Ghost romances are usually one-sided anyways, or so I would imagine.” 

You can only laugh, enjoying the feeling of his body wrapped around yours.

“You won’t be here in the morning,” you muse sadly.

“I mean, I’ll be here, but you won’t be able to see me.”

“Do ghosts sleep?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where do you usually sleep?”

“On the couch.”

“Well, from now on, I give you permission to sleep here with me.”

“Really?” He squeezes your breast.

“Of course. This is going to sound crazy, but… I can even say goodnight to you, although you won’t be able to say it back.”

“I’ll say it back,” Mingyu assures you. “You’ll just have to imagine it.”

“I can do that.”

“Gonna have to imagine a lot of things.” 

You know that a relationship with a ghost isn’t a long-term plan. You know that things can’t really go anywhere with him- but at the same time, there’s almost a peace that comes with having your very own personal spirit who’s in love with you and restricted to your apartment.

“You’re tired, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His breath is comforting against the nape of your neck.

“Exhausted.”

“Then you should get some sleep.”

“You don’t want me to stay up? Don’t want to enjoy every second we have together?” 

“I always enjoy every second we have together,” he laughs. “Something tells me this touching thing isn’t going to last much longer, and I want you to fall asleep in my arms, even if it’s only once.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu.”

“Goodnight, princess.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I love you.”

It’s the last words you hear from him as you drift off to sleep, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of four orgasms. 

When you wake up the next morning, your bed is empty, but you know you’re not alone.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I hope I didn't scare anyone off with the serial killer tag, can we all agree this is a soft boy? "what about the people he murdered?" "what murder???"

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🔮 preview. It has to be close to midnight now- it has to be- “I need you now,” you whine, moving your hand from your clit to grab the sheets. “We’ve both been so good this year, this is so unfair-” You’re horny, but you’re sad too, frustrated, desperate, annoyed- There’s no way you can make yourself cum while up in your head like this and you know it. Letting out a groan of defeat, you tear your hand from between your legs- only for it to be caught in a vice grip. Your eyes flash open, heart thundering in your ribcage. Mingyu is kneeling at the foot of the bed, and you watch as he brings your wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean and letting out an absolutely guttural groan.

cw/ tw. masturbation, oral (f receiving), multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, cock warming, bulge kink, deep kink, serial killer/ghost Mingyu, switch Mingyu, hand job, big dick Mingyu, fingering, mentions of suicide, recording sex with a phone, boob worship, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess, good girl. (his) good boy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

Part of you wishes you’d never told Jeonghan about Mingyu because your friend has become absolutely obsessed with communicating with your apartment ghost. In the year since you last saw Mingyu, there hasn’t been one hangout at your place that didn’t include Jeonghan whipping out the Ouija board.

“We should do another shot,” Jeonghan tells you, sitting on the couch and toying with the planchette.

“It’s almost midnight, I really think you should be heading home,” you sigh. Seokmin, Soonyoung and Seungkwan have the decency to have left half an hour ago, but they’ve never been that excited about your ghost adventures.

“You won’t even let me meet the guy?” Jeonghan whines. “Come on, let's ask Mingyu if he wants to meet me!”

He places the planchette on the board, and it immediately moves to Yes. Sometimes you think Jeonghan’s moving it himself, using your ghost roommate to further his own wants and needs. 

“I’m pretty sure Mingyu will want to spend the full-time slot with me alone,” you insist. 

The planchette moves to No and you roll your eyes while Jeonghan grins at you.

“Give me that!” You take the wooden tool from his hands, setting it on the board. “Mingyu, do you want Jeonghan to leave?”

You feel the familiar cold tingle in your hands, and without adding any pressure yourself, the planchette moves to the word Yes. 

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[marvelsswansong]

Imagine corio seeing a woman flirt with r he’s so confused cuz he’s used to disgusting men after her only

no but like seriously 🌞👉👈

Corio isn't oblivious to the fact that there is a price for dating someone as beautiful as you. Namely, that others - doesn't matter if they're complete strangers or close working colleagues - will secretly want you, with some of them even being bold enough to try and entice you.

This is all much to his annoyance, as he tries being very public about the fact that you're his. Think constant arm around your waist, aggressive kisses in public, loudly calling you 'darling' from across the room. But that doesn't seem to deter everyone.

Especially not the types of men in the Capitol.

If he's feeling calmer that day, he might just stop at glaring at the man whilst pulling you away by the waist, or knocking the breath of you by suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you fiercely for the crowd of men to see. If he's in a sour mood, or it's been a hard week, you have to be careful to keep an eye on the blonde in case he flies into a fit of rage and his mind starts to scan the room for whatever is sharp and capable of causing damage.

"Sometimes I feel as if I have to babysit you." you would tease after one particularly harsh night, where you and Corio get thrown out of a house party after he smashed another man's face into the wall and then proceeded to twist the man's arm to the point of almost breaking a bone. Granted, the man had been extremely aggressive towards you and making very inappropriate comments, but it'd been rather awkward to see the stranger be carried onto an ambulance whilst the head of the household ordered the both of you out.

Chest heaving and knuckles still bruised from the impact, he'd just kiss you again, his tongue tasting of copper.

"Can't help it. You're too pretty." he whispers, and all your criticisms of him would fly out the window.

But Coriolanus is always less guarded when it's a woman around you. After all, you have so many best friends who are women, you spend so much time around grandma'am and Tigirs, and so on. He just associates women being around you with platonic love and comfort.

So when you leave him to go get some drinks at the bar, a fancy upper east side bar you've been begging to go to, he's too busy searching the room for potential men who approach you to notice the red haired woman beelining towards you. She bumps into you 'on accident', pink champagne spilling over the tip of the glass just a bit - a light splash on your jeans, but nothing too bad.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." she quickly says, grabbing a nearby napkin to hand it off to you. Coriolanus watches the interaction from the back of the club, the specifics of your conversation with her unintelligble over the loud music, but he doesn't think anything much of it. Even when the auburn haired woman's fingers brush against yours whilst exchanging the napkin.

He watches as you smile politely at her, probably telling her that it's okay, before turning around to the bartender to make an order. The woman next to you continues to talk to you through out the exchange, which again doesn't raise any red flags to Corio.

After all, women are very friendly by nature. It's normal that someone, especially a stranger who feels bad for spilling a drink on you, wants to continue to talk to you.

You don't think much of it either on your end, other than thinking that she - Clara, she tells you her name after a soft giggle - is very nice.

It's only when the drinks arrive and the woman stops you, lightly sitting you back down and brushing away the hair from your eyes, that Coriolanus starts feeling rather odd. The sudden wide eyes on your face and the red haired woman's smirk, before she slides you a piece of paper from her back pocket and lets you go, raises a lot of questions in his mind.

His top options? Something along the lines of bribery or illegal drugs. Or maybe she's using you to get something from him. Or maybe she wants something from your family.

What he doesn't expect, is for you to come back totally speechless, fingers deftly hanging onto the small piece of paper. You look somewhere between embarrassed and shocked, refusing to meet your boyfriend's eyes as you sit down next to him. He frowns at that, patting his lap instead.

Normally, you'd sit on his legs without a second thought. This time though, you hesitate.

"What'd she want? Drugs? Mone-" he growls, only to be cut off by the stranger.

"So you weren't lying. You do have a boyfriend." the red haired woman cuts into the conversation, now sitting on the velvet chair across from you. Coriolanus swears his jaw almost drops when the woman laughs seductively, winking at you whilst uncrossing her legs.

"You can sit on my lap instead, honey."

"I, you- I just-" Coriolanus starts speaking in an attempt to swear or scare her off, but his mind totally blanks.

You've never seen your boyfriend this flustered. His pale complexion breaks into a dark shade of red, his usually stern gaze darting back and forth between you and the woman, his speech stuttered and jumbled. It's YOU who ends up having the composure to let her down gently, holding out the paper with her phone number out towards her and informing her that you love your boyfriend very much and you're not that interested.

She pouts at that, and it makes your boyfriend's jaw clench so hard his face aches.

"Aw... alright, darling. But keep the paper. You know, just in case you wanna play."

With a wink and a hair flip, she disappears into the dark crowd of sweaty bodies and loud music. It's only then that your boyfriend snaps into action, taking the paper into his hands and shredding it to pieces.

"She called you darling." he snarls, angry. "Only I get to call you darling."

You just giggle, kissing away his sour expression, before tugging at his sleeves.

"Come on, forget about it. Let's just dance." you say, the alcohol in your veins still making you feel buzzed. He complies, never being able to say no to you, but the entire night, he can't help but hold you very close and glare at everyone who approaches you or even looks at you.

Regardless of their gender.

Now, he has to protect you from everyone, he thinks.

BONUS SCENARIO (later in the night)

You've had one too many drinks and yell into Coriolanus' ear that you really need to go to the bathroom. You clutch your handbag and stumble into the corridor, leaving your boyfriend alone by the bar. A stunning blonde woman slides into the empty seat next to him, glossy lips parting to ask a question.

Thinking she's going to hit on him, he raises his right hand, stopping her on the spot.

"I'm not interested, sorry."

The woman scoffs at that, ordering a tequila shot and almost glaring at him.

"Neither am I, genius. I was just wondering if you knew the name of the cutie who just went to the bathroom."

The moment you come back, he practically drags you out of the bar and hails a cab back to the apartment.

He's had enough of women trying to steal you from him. At least for that night.

a/n: hope you guys like this small type of blurbs too in between major fics hehe

[carmenized-onions]

Where To? | Delivery Fees

logline; Fix, after fix, after fix; at a point, you've gotta ask what you are.

[!!!] series history, this is the fifth; First, Second, Third, Fourth

portion; 8k+ (sorry, it's about to go down. Perfectly in time for your long Friday midnight read that you regret in the morning!)

possible allergies; birth/medical shenanigans (nothin' scary, tbh, unrealistic), Mikey heavy talks and thus, mentions of drug addiction, it's traumas, his death, and grieving! Tony makes a joke about being bisexual, and I simply can't apologize for this, I write the perspective I have, man.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (aunt, mentions of bein' a mom, no pronouns? I think?)

this is by far, I think, the best (and longest) chapter so far, and if you don't leave me a paragraph (or several) detailing your thoughts and favourite moments, I will eat a lightbulb. And you will simply never hear from me again. Be warned,,,,,

Everyone works fast and efficient. Hospitality is used in two places for a goddamn reason. A well-oiled machine can switch gears on a dime.

Sydney gets a clean table cloth sample from a pile of off-whites they’d been considering. She puts it down in the office, swiping it over the floor to cover up the grime. Does she close her eyes when she walks in, and trip over the chair on the ground? Yeah. But she’s trying to be respectful of Nat’s privacy, okay!?

Tina talks Nat through everything as she gets Nat to lay down, she finds your Carhartt jacket hanging the shelf, folds it, and tucks it under the small of Sug’s back for support.

Richie is in the front of house, yelling at Pete over the phone, both with disdain and love somehow? That’s fathers for you. Fak is respectfully standing in front of the office door with one pile of warm cloths and another pile dry. Was he yelled at when he initially tried to come in? Yes. He’s handing them off to Sydney as needed now.

You scrub your hands clean, dry them, then start rolling on prep gloves at the sink. An apron is thrown around you, you turn your head just so, to see Carmen behind you, tying the neck and then waist of your apron for you.

He’s focused on the knots, but he looks up at you for a split second, meeting your curious gaze, his only explanation is, “S’faster.” You refocus on your gloves, because you’ll go insane if you don’t. It’s a silent exchange.

When you’re both scrubbed and ready, Carmen takes the towels from Fak and you usher for him to switch places with Tina, who slips out along with Sydney.

Everyone else sits outside the office, hushed and worried, and it is just the three of you, in here. Technically four, if you think about it. He sits on his knees so Sugar can elevate her head on his lap. And on the other side of him, about to assist in the birth of his niece, between her legs, is you.

You situate yourself, hands at the ready to catch a baby, towel in your lap.

And if you can just pretend you’re wearing medical gloves instead of prep cook gloves, and scrubs instead of an old Beef apron, you can almost believe it’s three years ago and you’re riding in the back of an ambulance helping a new mom deliver a baby, and Mikey is still alive somewhere where you don’t know him yet. You shake your head out of it. There’s not time for this.

“Alright, you’re doing a great job, just keep breathing, just keep pushing— Sometimes talking helps, uh, with labour.”

“I— What should I talk about—?”

“Oh, uh—” You look up at Carmen as if it’s gonna help you, and in a way, it does, “Why don’t you tell me baby names you’ve been considering? You pick one out?”

“Oh, oh I— Christ— I was thinking maybe, maybe Michaela? Is that stupid? That’s stupid, isn’t it?” She warbles with a stinging level of insecurity.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, Sug.” Carmen’s quick to jump in, swiping her hair out of her eyes. You nod in agreement, backing him up. “I don’t think it’s stupid. It’s a sweet sentiment— Nobody gets to judge the way you mourn, Nat.”

She groans in pain, then groans more pitifully, like being struck with a sudden guilt, “Tony!”

“Yeah, yeah, Nat? I’m here.” You take her hand.

“I was being a bitch before in the bathroom!” She whines this out like a drunk girl’s confession.

You’re quick to lean forward to her, consoling her, as if she is in fact a drunk girl in the bathroom with you, “Nononono, you were fine— Hey, keep pushing, keep breathing— You weren’t bein’ any type a way, you’re good!”

“I was so judgy! I was just like my fucking mom— Oh my God— Am I gonna be my mom?!”

Carmen and you are lightning fast to usher and coo a myriad of denials and flat out ‘No’s. When he gets the chance, he looks up and whispers to you, “What did she say to you?”

He’s far too hung up on this, in this moment. You squint at him, whispering back, oozing with sarcasm, “She can still hear you.”

“I said— I said ‘didn’t see you at the funeral’! Like who says that!?”

Carmen should be looking at his sister, which makes his stare feels ten times more exposing, “You didn’t go to the funeral?”

You shrug, but you feel a mountain of guilt on that shrug, like fucking Atlas. “Neither did you.”

He squints back at you, head tilting just slightly, “Yeah, but—”

“You knew him so much better than we did and I just— You’re so intimidating!”

“Intimidating?” Looking at Carmen’s face, it doesn’t look like he disagrees. Which only shocks you all the more.

“Yes! You know, you’re— You’re—”

“You’re like Mikey.” Carmen finishes for her. She nods, deliriously, trying to focus on her breathing.

“In what way?” You’re way too interested in this conversation, Goddamn it, look at the baby forehead, not the boy.

“You don’t talk like him or nothin’, but—”

“It’s the air!” Sugar shrieks on ‘air’, white knuckle gripping your hand. “You just, you control the temperature— you make rooms easier to breathe in like he did— And I— I wanted to push to see you make it harder to breathe like he—Oh my God!”

“Nat, you’re doing a fantastic job. The head’s a quarter way out, you’re doing —great.” You nod to Carmen, and wordlessly he knows to take your absolutely shattered hand out of her grasp and replace it with his. “And I try my best, but I— Y’know what, this isn’t the time—”

“No! Please, God, keep going!” She is clinging to your words like a telenovela. “This is all I have to keep my mind off my vagina tearing open!”

You nod, you want to wring your hands together but you’re wearing latex gloves. “I just— I didn’t know your brother better than you did. I just— I just knew him when he wasn’t letting a lot of people know him.”

“How did— you become friends with Mikey?”

“Dad was a fixer—”

“No, I know how you met. How did you become friends?”

You pause. God, no one’s ever called you on it. You've always been able to get away with a mere list of factors.

“I, uh…. was a couple jobs in at the Beef, with my dad, and we’d spoken casually before, but I stepped out to get some air, and he was there, havin’ a smoke, and he offered to share, and when I said ‘Oh, I don’t smoke’, he—”

You soften at the thought, eyes distant, smirking. “He went ‘What, are you Amish?’ And I guess, we just… Became friends over how detached and different I was, from everything else in his life. I didn’t know anything about him before The Beef. I didn’t come with expectations or social circles to rat on him to. I was— I was basically Amish, to him.”

You were his lock box. You had no way of using anything he ever said against him, and even if you could, you never would.

He could bitch about his successful baby brother in Denmark, and also rave over how excited he was about his successful baby brother in Denmark. He could do impressions of his little sister's cringey husband, and also show his relief in the fact that she will always be loved. He could tell you how scared he was, he could tell you what Uncle Lee said—he couldn’t tell you he was using. No. He couldn’t tell you. But you would find out, when you had to administer Narcan on him as he was passed out in the back alley of The Beef.

From there, there was nothing you didn’t hear about, nothing he thought would be worth hiding, after that. A diary of confessions is carved into your heart. Your name is carved into your favourite booth at your second favourite diner, not two blocks from here. It’s all the same handwriting.

You didn’t know Mikey better than his siblings did, you just knew how he felt about the things they saw.

Natalie’s shrieking brings you back to earth, you re-cradle your hands for the very top of the baby’s head. Despite the pain she’s in, she was right, your talking really is helping her keep the focus off her pain, “Is—Is that why you didn’t go to the funeral?!” She’s not judgy or mad, she just can’t say anything without full screaming it.

“I don’t— I don’t know if this exact moment is the best time—”

“I decide what time it is!”

Carmen looks up at you, and for the first time, is wincing at the iron clad grip his sister has his hand in— Ironically, the one with the stabbing tattoo. He wheezes, “She— She decides what time it is.”

“Right.” You nod at both of them, eyes wide. Your tone is hasty, you’d rather explain yourself well, but now you just have to explain yourself fast because the baby’s head is three quarters of the way out.

“Well, I, uh, yeah— It was, it was tough. I didn’t— I didn’t want to watch a group of people I’d heard so much about, good and bad, walk up on stage in front of a closed casket— N’— N’ talk about like, cute childhood moments— When I—When I had seen, when I had only seen him at his worst. And I— I liked the Mikey I got, loved the Mikey I got, but I know those last two years were very different. And I guess— I guess, I didn’t wanna learn… What I missed.”

There’s a lot of reasons why you didn’t go to the funeral, but that’s the one you know she’s going to find the most digestible and make some semblance of sense out of, right now.

She nods, repeatedly, deliriously, Carmen holds her head still. “I’m— I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I forgive you, Sug.” You nod back, reassuring, a soft smile for but a moment. “Now breathe, and one last big push— Head’s almost out! Smooth sailing from there, you’re doing so good!”

Just as frantic as Natalie’s screaming, there’s doors slamming, yelling, and what sounds like tripping from outside the office, “Nat! I’m here! I’m here! I’m coming!”

“Oh! Hold it in, Pete’s here—”

“Sugar, again, I hate to tell you this, not how that works!”

It’s about an hour later, you’re sitting out in front of The Bear, on the curb, with Syd.

Tina headed home as soon as she could to get back to her family. Richie said he’s on ‘daddy drop off’ for Eva tomorrow, so he had to head out— And he’s Fak’s ride, so he left too.

Once the baby had been delivered, and you’d screamed at calmly communicated to Carmen to get the exact time for the birth certificate, and Pete had rushed in and almost slipped on the wet sheets and cracked his head open— Everything was totally chill.

Pete’s driving his wife and daughter to Saint Anthony Hospital, where they’ll stay in holding for the next one to two days. Carmen refused to let you clean up on the basis of, ‘you just delivered my niece, get the fuck out’; and is inside, finishing that up. And so, you and Syd are perched up outside, getting some much-needed air, talking about nothing.

“That was fucking— crazy.”

“I think I should start smoking.” Is all you can reply, laughing shakily, eyes on the stars— Though there’s not many. Shout out light pollution. You hug your arms, still in the same outfit, apron-less, jacket-less, cold as fuck.

Syd laughs, “Yeah, that’s the move. For sure.” She sighs, sipping water from a deli cup she’d brought out. “...I’m never fuckin' having kids.”

“No, for sure.” You whistle, leaning back for dramatic effect, “I go back and forth on it a lot, and then I see a mom giving birth or dealing with her goblins and I’m like—”

You look to each other, speaking at the same time, “Free birth control!”

“Genuinely!” You snort, laughing through the words, “I leave cat food out on my fire escape for this one stray on my block, and I think that is as committal as I’m willing to get with taking care of creatures.”

She sniffs, looking at you more peculiarly, still smiling, “I think you’d be a good mom, though.”

Your amused grin sobers into a wistful smile, “I think you’d be a good one, too. Both like taking care of people.”

She punches your shoulder, softly, obviously. “You came through in an insane way, tonight.” When you try to wave it off, she doubles down, “I literally do not know what would’ve happened without you. The Bear is literally in your debt—And—And— You ditched your date, for us.”

You sigh, though smiling, “Syd, it wasn’t—” “It was bad? It was so bad you were kinda wishing this would happen?”

The house lights of The Bear shut off and Carmen comes out as you respond, locking the door behind him.

“I cannot fathom a date so bad that I actively hope my friend’s sister goes into labour and needs me to deliver her kid.”

“So it wasn’t bad?” She leans forward onto her knees, like she’s about to get the daily scoop.

“Not what I said, no, you keep cuttin—”

“You cold?” It’s Carmen who cuts you off this time, standing behind you both. You turn your head to him, still hugging your shoulders. He looks …stiffer than usual? Tense? You can’t tell the adjective, he just looks… Different. Or maybe it’s just a default you’ve never noticed. But you think you would’ve noticed.

You stand up, as does Syd. “Oh, yeah. I thought I’d like… Rinse my Carhartt before I wear it again. I’m good, though.”

He pauses where he is, like he’s computing, then shakes his head, “Don’t act tough.” And takes off his jean-fleece jacket, holding it out for you. Who are you to refuse that?

When you reach for it, he pivots in time to put the sleeve over your arm for you, then the other. You quickly recall the walk-in, and suddenly this feels like divine retribution. God, it’s weird to be cared for in return. God, he cares for you? Don’t start ruminating right now, holy shit—

“Thanks.” You cough, awkwardly, looking to Syd, pointing your fingers to both of them. “Ride? Ride?”

Syd holds her bag over her shoulder, and you can already tell what she’s gonna say. “I’ll take the—”

“If you say L instead of my fuckin’ car, it’s your ass, Adamu.” It’s past twelve. No way.

“…I’ll take the ‘your fucking car’, please.” She bows her head down, you throw your arm over her shoulder, dragging her with you. “That's my girl!”

You turn your head over your shoulder to Carmy, his weird different demeanour has somewhat melted away, good enough. “You comin? I’m holding your jacket hostage this time, so you kinda have to.”

He follows close behind you two, sheepish. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the ride.”

“Who wants to sit in the back?”

“Isn’t the hot-seat s’posed to be shotgun?” Syd questions.

“You know, people say that, but that’s for when you wanna socialize, when it’s late you wanna sprawl in the back and pretend you’re the last person on earth.”

“You make a compelling argument, my friend.” Syd taps her nose, grinning. She calls to Carmy behind her. “I call the back!”

“Is it bad if I don’t check on my dad, while I’m here?” You park in front of Syd’s place. You know it well, your dads live on the same block. “No, right? It’s twelve in the morning and no matter what you both say, I think I do still smell vaguely of afterbirth.”

“If I were your dad, I think I would prefer to not be visited, right now, yeah.” Syd nods, taking her seat-belt off.

“Woww,” You eye her through the rear-view mirror, “You don’t love your daughter, Syd? Wouldn’t get up at midnight for me?” Carmen laughs from the sidelines into his fist, leaned against the window.

“Of course I would, my sweet child!” She snickers, reaching forward to pinch and pull your cheek, you slap her hand away. “Alright, fuck off.”

When she pulls back and goes to grab her stuff, you remember. “Oh! There should be a lil’ gift bag, somewhere on the ground back there?”

“Yeah,” She procures the bag, lifting it up to her head for you to see. “This thing?”

You nod, “Open it.”

“Oh what!?” She groans, before even opening it, “You got me a present and have saved me twice? Did you kill a loved one of mine or something?”

You laugh, shrugging. “Bloodlust is insatiable. But, y’know, I’m proud of you for opening and getting Head, I wanted to commemorate, or whatever.” You shove Carmen’s shoulder, getting his attention, “Yours is coming, by the way, I just need a lil’ more time on it.”

He seems perplexed by the idea that you’re getting him a gift, even though you already told him you would, but he nods. Syd unbags her present, “What…?”

In a small box, with a clear lid so she can see through, is a white Dickie peter pan style collar. Tacked onto both lapels are gold circular collar pins. On the left one, it has the initial S, and the other A; both in gold over a white background. A thin gold chain connects the two pins, across the neck. All fake gold, duh, you’re not rich. But it’s still gorgeous. And thoughtful.

“‘You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.’” You repeat her own words back to her, looking at her through the rear-view mirror, smiling. “I thought maybe a little extra personal touch on the uniform would help with that. The collar’s really just to explain how the fuck it works, but I also sweat so much in your kitchen, so I thought it could be use—” Syd cuts into your ramblings, swinging her arm over your headrest to hug you, more like choke. But with love, so you hug her arm back. “—Full.”

“You’re a great daughter, Tony.” She squeezes. “Thank you.” You just squeeze her arm back.

She shows the gift off to Carmen, who seems genuinely impressed, he can’t stop glancing between the gift and you. You remember things. “Beautiful, Chef.”

“Oh, oh oh, before you go—” You snap your fingers, “I’m coming to the wedding gig, fuckin’ uh… Vickie and Merman? That can’t be right…”

“You’re coming to Vinnie and Mira’s wedding?” Ah, count on Carmen to know names. It's his family, after all. Or family adjacent? Unsure.

You nod, “Bartending. Cicero got me. You’re catering?”

He nods, “30k is 30k.” Syd backs him up. “It’d be fucking stupid, if we said no, especially since they’re taking expenses.”

“We should like, coordinate or something—” “Wait!”

Syd interrupts, clutching the shoulders of your seat and Carmen’s. “When did you see Cicero?”

“Uh, couple hours ago? When you were spamming?”

Syd squints, looking into the middle distance like she’s just cracked a case wide open. Hot outfit. Denial of dates. Cicero. “Oh my god... Cicero’s your sugar daddy?”

“What?!” Lightning speed, both you and Carmen yell. Probably for entirely different reasons and confusions.

“No! Syd, I was at work—” “Well, it is a type of job—” “I am not doing any sort of code for Sugar Baby activities! I was at a real place of business and he was there, he asked me to bartend, he said y’all would be there.” You gesture with your hands wildly as a form of enunciation.

“Right…” She opens the door behind her, eye contact un-breaking. “I’m gonna figure you out…”

You roll your eyes, waving goodbye with one hand, flipping her off with the other. “Text me your hotel plans for New York, loser. We can split a room.”

“Okay, loser! See you. See you tomorrow, Carm!” She waves you off, shutting the car door behind her. Carmen waves back to her. Once she’s safely inside, he turns to you. You speak before he can.

“Listen, there’s something about being around your childhood friend, and also around your old neighbourhood, dropping her off at home like you used to in high school, that makes you completely age regress into a sixteen-year-old.”

He smiles, putting his hands up in defense. “I didn’t say shit.”

“I could feel the judgment, radiating.”

“I, I wasn’t—” He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his nose to hide his eyes. “I thought it was cool. To uh, see, a different side to—to both of you.”

“Awe.” You pull off the curb, driving off. “Wonder what you were like, as a teen.”

He laughs, “A fuckin’ loser, is what.”

“Eh, I was too.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Oh? We go to the same fuckin’ high-school, Berzatto?” You flick your gaze from the road to him for a moment. “I think I would’ve remembered.”

He rolls his eyes, though you don’t see it, back on the road. “You wouldn’t have been a loser. Not like, like me level loser, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Too nice.”

“That’s true. I was an angel.” You hum. “I was well known but not popular, I tended to hang out with the more fringe people. Also, I was fucking depressed, I missed like, half my junior year with fake sick days.”

“Hm.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the head rest, tilting his vision to you. “I would’ve thought you were cool.”

“I would’ve thought you were cool, too.” You smile. “I bet we would’ve been friends.”

He just hums in reply, not confirming or denying, lost in thought. He tilts his head back to look at the road. You speak up after a moment, “Where are we headed, by the way?”

 He straightens up in his seat immediately, leaning forward. “Oh, oh right, fuck, directions—”

“That, but also like, I can drop you somewhere else— Like, not home.”

“Like?”

Like your place. “Like uh, I dunno, if you wanted to go to the hospital? If you’re like… A hospital family?”

He snorts, “A hospital family?”

“Like, for my nephew, I didn’t go to the hospital, I met him a week later. But you did already meet your niece— So maybe you get a pass?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re a hospital family, anymore, anyways.” Ah. The silent knowing. The glue that was there is gone. “You have a nephew?”

“Yeah, you wanna see photos?”

“Oh, uh, yeah—”

“I’m fucking with you.” You chuckle, “No one wants to see photos. But I do have a nephew.” You click your teeth. “You have now joined me at Aunt and Uncle status, people will congratulate you despite the fact that you contribute nothing to becoming one. Congratulations.”

You reach a hand out, awkwardly shaking his hand for a second before right back to the wheel. It’s hard to move one hand up and down and also drive. Carmen just shakes his head, chuckling. A win.

“We could also go shopping.” You shrug. “Buy your niece some baby shit? Or, you’re tired, so I should probably just drop you—”

“Let’s go shopping, yeah.” He’s quick to interrupt, pivoting to face you. Anything to keep the night going, with you. “If uh, if you want.”

“There’s always something I need to re-up on, I’m down.” You nod to him, more specifically, his phone in his lap. “Can you find the nearest 24/7 department store, for me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He fiddles with his phone, getting directions, then balances it on the console so you can see. There’s a lull of comfortable silence as the adrenaline from you two delivering a fucking baby wears off. God, the trauma bond between you is as thick as a lead pipe at this point. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing. You don’t want to find out.

He’s first to break the silence. “Left up here.” Just reading you the directions, and then tacks on, as you take the left. “…Where were you, when we called?”

You groan, though smiling, “Not you fuckin’ too, Carmy!”

“I—” He laughs, disingenuous, you can tell. “I just wanna know, if, if we really did interrupt somethin’ for you.”

“You wanna know if I went on a date.” Not a question, a statement.

His mouth opens, shuts, opens. He shrugs. “A little.”

“Why, you wanna ask me out?”

What. What. What. What. Why— Where— Who—Huh? Crash the car. Why did you say that? Why would you say that? Crash the car right now. Veer into that streetlamp. Kill both of you. Instantly. Those should be your last words. Do it. Do it!

You cough, clearing your throat after a solid one second of silence— Eons too long. “I was— I was actually at work. Not lying to make you feel better. Didn't ruin shit, for me.” You’re certain you’re fumbling this, as you fake laughter at your cool joke, definitely a joke because he literally broke up with his girlfriend yesterday and that was an insane thing to say. Disrespectful, even.  

He’s silent, for a good few seconds, which again, centuries. If you were looking at him instead of the road, you’d see he looks like a deer in headlights, but like, a deer that is somewhat hoping he does get hit by that car.

“…What’s your work?” He flits between you and the GPS. “Straight through this intersection.”

“Bartender.”

“What bar?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“That’s why I’m asking. Take a right up here.”

You turn your head to look right, and also at him. He’s looking at you expectantly. You grimace, taking the turn. He’s not gonna let this go. “…Eden’s.”

He squints. “…Isn’t that—”

“VIP bar and club, yes.”

He backs up in his seat, thinking. Prodding at his inner cheek. “You’re a—”

“Alright, I’m a fuckin’ bottle girl, Carm!” You groan, wanting to say the realization before he could. “I do bar too— And I have been a sommelier, but yes, I am a fuckin’ ‘throw around bottles with flashlights strapped to them’ girl.”

“Turn into there, up left.” He crosses his arms, you’ve raised your voice but he hasn’t. “Is it… Good?”

You sigh, “Tips are good. And I tend to get put on bar. I’m only on-call, it’s just when they’re down someone and I’m down on services for the month.”

He nods, slow, pensive. You shrug, turning into the lot of the department store. A Target. The nice Target, too. “Gotta make rent somehow, y’know?”

He nods again, very clearly lost in thought. You park the car, in a relatively empty lot. He’s still thinking; you turn to him. “…You good, Carm?”

He turns his head up to you, at a molasses like speed. The gears are visibly turning in his head. “What if you worked at The Bear?”

“…Huh?”

“You could, you could do bar.”

“You don’t have a bar.”

“You could make drinks, in the back. We don’t have a drinks guy.”

You take a deep breath, thinking. That is really, what you want. You’d be at The Bear, every day. It’d feel like home. You’d spend time with your second family instead of an ever-turning roster of old male customers. Your coworkers at Eden aren’t bad, but you never quite clicked as family. Not like you did at The Beef. Not like you did at The Bear. You’re staring at Carmen, and his face is slowly morphing into a golden ticket.

Carmen wants you to quit. Carmen’s maybe never wished for the downfall of someone’s career more than right now. Or maybe it’s an uptick? He wants your success, really. The Bear would be an upgrade. You’d be at his restaurant, in his uniform. In the back, making drinks, where no one’s going to look at you, whistling, turning heads. You could make him lavender coffee, every morning. He could put it on the menu. You could work on a cocktail menu together. An evening coffee menu, too, maybe. He could spend the rest of his miles to send you to Paris, have you visit wineries to learn about different types of grapes and shit. He could come with you, maybe, if he got the time off. Who’s he kidding. He’ll never get the time off. But you could send him photos. An entire lifetime is rolling on in Carmen’s head, as he waits for your answer.

“You can hire me.”

There’s a wreath of grapevines, cascading over your shoulders, but then you poke his shoulder, and— “When—” they vanish. “—You can afford to.”

He squints, heart stuttering. “We-We can afford—”

“No the fuck you can’t.” You interrupt, shaking your head. “You and Syd are unpaid, right now, I’m not coming on until I see you cashing cheques.”

The coffee in his head hasn’t gone cold just yet. “But you will come work for us?”

You smile, nodding. You put your hand out for him to shake on it, he does. “You’ve got a promised bartender, Berzatto.”

He’s beaming, he’s trying to hide it, but his eyes are too bright for one in the morning. It’s impossible to not see it. But he keeps his cool persona, just nodding. “Cool. That's cool. Let’s uh, let’s—”

You smack your thigh, opening your car door. “Let’s get fucking going!”

It’s a ghost town in the store. You’re pretty sure you could rob this place blind, and not a single worker would bat an eye— If there’s even an employee here right now. You stroll through aisles relatively quickly— Carmen doesn’t have to wake up insanely early tomorrow, since The Bear doesn’t currently have a morning schedule— But he does have to get up at a decent time for Syd, who’s coming over to rework the menu.

Yeah, he took your advice. He’s working on being a better partner. He’s even grabbing ingredients that spark something in him, mumbling cooking terms you couldn’t utter back to him if you tried. It’s a stunning sight, to watch him work in this way. In his element.

Which makes him, in the Children’s Department, completely out of his element, look so much funnier.

“What the fuck do you buy a baby?” He stares down the aisle, alarmed, confused, possibly a touch scared. He turns his head to you, expectant, as though you’re a prophet who’ll save him. “What the fuck did you get your nephew?”

You shrug, counting on your hand. “A Peter Rabbit book, a teething toy that doubles as a stuffy, and a onesie—Or I think they’re called rompers? When they don’t go all the way to the feet?”

He squints, scratching behind his ear. “Do they use any of that shit, when they’re new?”

“No.” You deadpan. “But, my brother reads to him at night and baby switched from holding to teething pretty easy when the time came. Clothes are honestly the most useless. They outgrow that shit in two seconds.”

He nods, looking nowhere, thinking. “Bear and book?”

“Bear and book. Plus something for your sister.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not giving away my ideas.”

“You’re getting her something?”

“How haven’t you gotten my love language is acts of service and gifts at this point?”

“You could gift me with an idea.”

You cannot bite back the smile on your face. You shake your head and roll your eyes, walking ahead to get the bear and book. “I’m getting her a heating pad. You can get her bubble bath shit.”

The bear is cute. It’s incredibly squishable, he’s got adorable heart shaped nose and blue instead of pink on his ears. You’re holding the babe, since Carmen’s basket is full of groceries and you didn’t want to get the sweet little gentleman dirty. Carmen does not like that you keep calling the bear a sweet little gentleman. You do it more.

You offer up the Berenstain Bears for a book, he simply walks away from you. Oh, suddenly it’s bad to make this child’s life entirely bear themed? What world do we live in? You agree on Frog and Toad.

You split up for a couple minutes, he’s getting soaps on one end of the store, you’re getting a heating pad on the other. Plus the smallest bottle of bleach you can find.

It is a bizarre sight, you imagine, for the greeters watching you. Walking around, clutching a bear to your chest, holding a bottle of bleach in one hand, a boxed up electric heating pad in the other. Wearing a jean jacket that’s both a little too big for you and yet too small to button over your chest—and if they’re paying attention, underneath, a red leather corset. God, it’s one in the morning. Your makeup has probably melted off by now.

When you meet back up, he’s in the Hygiene aisle, relaxing bubble bath with Epsom salts already in his basket. Good Carm, he learns fast. Even better, he’s in the Men’s Hygiene section.

…Staring at Old Spice scents.

Your entire system completely reboots for no good reason. You blue screen mid-step. Thank God, his back is to you, so he doesn’t catch this. You sidle up next to him, coolly, squatting down to look at the scents on the bottom shelf.

“Every lesbian I know uses Wolfthorn.”

He turns his head to look down at you, flattening his lips in a line to not laugh. “You want me to smell like a lesbian?”

You tilt your head to look up at him, shrugging. “You currently smell like a bisexual.”

He still smells like you. Well, mostly he smells like seared meat and fish, but underneath that, he smells like your soap and shampoo.

He snorts, taken aback slightly by the subtle come out, covering the bottom half of his face with his free hand.

“You should get the fuckin…” You stand, finger waving over the bottles looking for the right one. “The relaxing one. Get all the advantages you can.”

He hums, “You like lavender?”

“In doses.” You shrug, swallowing. He thinks you’re intimidating? You feel like you’re under a microscope, the way he looks to you. “I get a headache, when it’s too strong.”

He nods, grabs the Bearglove scented one, and starts walking. Not letting you question the choice. You hurriedly follow after, heading to the self-check-out with him. He walks and talks. “What’s with the bleach?”

You stare at him for a long while, squinting. He stops walking to face you. “What?”

“I’m debating whether or not I tell you.”

“Are you gonna poison me?”

You click your teeth and snap your fingers, ‘awe shucks’. “You’ve foiled my plan.”

He smiles, but looks at you expectantly. You shrug, you must acquiesce. “It’s for your present.”

“You said you hate the painting in The Bear, so I’m making you a new one.”

It’s his turn to blue screen. You add, “If you end up hating it, you don’t have to put it up, but I wanted to take a shot at making a piece that’s you, like you wanted.”

All he can bring himself to do is nod, because if he doesn’t, he’ll spill his guts in the middle of this Target.  “I’ll hold off on getting a new one, then.”

He taps his card before you can, when you use self-checkout. He shrugs when you grumble about this. “I owe you gas money.”

“You did not owe me thirty dollars of gas money.”

“Then I’ve got credit in advance.”

It’s half past one in the morning, when you park in front of his place. Two nights in a row, this is gonna fuck with your schedule… Eh, when did you ever really have a schedule?

“Thank you.” He turns to you with a striking certainty, swallowing. “Like. For everything. I think I could’ve died every single day for the past few days, if you weren’t there.”

When you open your mouth to brush off the thank you, because he knows you’ll brush off the thank you, he hovers a finger in front of your face, shushing you. “Don’t give me that ‘no big deal’ shit, neither. It’s been a big fuckin’ deal to me.”

You sigh, nodding, you take his hand where it hangs in the air, bringing it down. You’re still holding it. You’re hoping he forgets that you are. He absolutely won't. “…I just don’t like it when people feel like they owe me. Other than, y’know, doing actual handyman shit for money.”

He nods, “I don’t feel like I owe you. I want to pay it back.”

You shrug, “You’ve fed me every day. So, that’s kind of a huge return.”

“You delivered a baby.”

“Listen, I’m just trying to make you feel better.” You lift your hands in defense, letting go of his hand. You regret it. “I’m very cool, we know.”

“You are.” He chuckles, but his words are sincere. Why is he looking at you so hard?

“What?” You cross your arms, looking back at him.

“You delivered a baby.” He repeats, wonderment in his voice.

You nod. “Not the first time. Which is lucky, not every paramedic has experienced a code O-B. I don’t wanna give you an unrealistic expectation.”

“How was that?”

“The code O-B?”

He tilts his head back and forth, ‘kinda’. “Being a paramedic.”

“Hard.” You nod, straightening up. “Hard. Went to school for two years, straight out of high school. Spent three years as a first responder. It was… Fucked. I cut like...”

You chuckle when you say it, shaking your head, but the feeling isn’t amusement, “Everyone out of my life. Not on purpose, just by design. The hours are insane, obviously, and my co-workers… Like, you expect to be the youngest in the room, and so, when you’re surrounded by kids your age, breaking some grandma’s ribs, doing C-P-R in the back of a shrieking, speeding truck…” You trail off, looking down.

“It’s uh… It was tough, yeah.” You sniff, not crying, just filling silence, looking back up at him.

He nods, “…That sounds pretty fuckin’ tough, yeah.” He’s thankful that you gift him with a laugh, however dry. “And you just switched to, to handiwork?”

You shrug, so-so. “I would’ve kept doing it, is the thing. Which is kinda scary to say. But, basically— In the free time I did have, my dad, who owned Chicago’s Kindest, would ask me to come fix shit with him— Which, would seem tiring, but he really just made me hold a flashlight and hand him shit, most of the time. It was more like… His dad way of asking to hang out.”

“And uh, it’s a old family business, right. He’s been doin’ that shit since I was born. And uh, when he started—” You flex your hands and fingers, cracking them, staring at them. “Gettin’ arthritis and all the other fun old people weaknesses, I started working and he started holding the flashlight… It was kind of a no brainer, when he told me he had to retire. To make the switch, I mean.”

You click your teeth, looking back up at him after a moment, “Sorry, I’m fuckin’ talking too much—” “No, no.”

“I— I, It’s good when you talk too much.” You do not notice the way his jaw grinds, for just a second. Cursing himself out in his head for bowing out at the last minute there.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You lean your arm on the shoulder of your seat, then your head against your arm. “Yeah, good bedtime story, at least.” You check the time on your phone. Almost two. “You’ve gotta fuckin’ go to bed. You’re probably gonna need to meet with Uncle J, anyways.”

“…Oh fuck.” He rubs his hand over his face when he realizes.

You continue, nodding, cringing for him. “Maternity leave, catering gig— You’re in for a fuckin’ day tomorrow, Berzatto. Need your beauty sleep.”

He swallows, nodding repeatedly, head in hands. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” He laughs, halfheartedly. “Thank you. Uh, for all the shit, again, and the ride. And the detour.”

You shrug, “Welcome. More fun with you, anyways.”

He nods, eyes going from straight at you to literally anywhere else. He fiddles with the door handle for a moment, though he’s turned towards you, not the door. It looks like he’s having a wrestling contest with his own brain. You’re not sure who, but someone wins. “I, I uh, do want to, by the way.”

You furrow your brows, a little worried, honestly. “Want to do what?”

“Ask you out.”

…

It’s sort of like, all the facilities of your stupid brain shut off. You think the teenager tripped over an important wire and every thought and ability to contextualize feelings has left. The same has happened to him, of course, and now it just comes down to both of your now palaeolithic brains to rapid fire responses to each other.

He adds, “Not right now, but, eventually. After, y'know, we— we know each other better.”

You nod. He continues, rambling. “And I’ve— I can’t split my time, right now. I’ve gotta-gotta focus on The Bear, right now, and- and Syd, right now.”

“That should be priority, yeah.”

“—I’m not expecting you to wait—Or-Or even say—.”

“I will.”

It’s his turn to go mum. You play with the stray baby hairs on the back of your neck, explaining.

“The timing right now, like, could not be worse for you.”

“Right.”

“You just started a new business,” “—Yeah—” “That you’re 800k in the hole for,” “—A little less—” “You just went through a break up.”

“Not a rebound.” He’s quick to assure, with a certainty. “If that’s—If that’s a concern.”

You smile, shaking your head, “Not a concern for me, concerned for you. I just wanted to agree with you, that the time for it isn’t right now.”

He laughs, softly, through an exhale. “You don’t wanna convince me otherwise?”

You laugh, shaking your head. You straighten up, putting your hands down. You feel bolder. He’s sort of asked you out, he’s called you pretty, he smells like you, you’re wearing his jacket, he’s staring at your mouth. No risky half-joke is gonna get rid of you now. Probably.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, just so you’ll fuck me, Carm.”

It’s like, a sleeper agent activates, in his brain. Like you’ve done the fucking Konami code. He goes from nerve wracked to nerve wracking. Reaching over the console, fast, hand on the back of your head, pulling you while also meeting you in the middle— And he’s about to go for it, not give you a second to reject him, before he thinks better. Well, kind of.

Holding you there, “I’m going to kiss you.” It’s not posed as a question, but it’s functioning as one.

You stare, wide eyed, taking in his features. Taking in his already waning confidence. “…Sure.”

And he does. And he’s realizing, as he pushes you towards him, pressing his mouth to yours, that this is so so so different, from Claire. You are not going to distract him— In a good way. You wouldn’t let him. You’re prioritizing him, even when that means you need to wait on him. You want to know him, first. He wants to know you. You were being funny, sure, when you said you wouldn’t lie to fuck him— But God, think of how much that means. He sure is. And now, that he knows you have so much respect for his work, his mind, his body, and are happy to just get to know him as a friend first—to give him the space and time he needs— He immediately wishes he'd never asked for said space.

He's holding your head to him, unyielding—Unless you signalled otherwise, but you haven’t yet. At the same time, he’s also pushing your shoulder back, pushing you back, leaning over the center console. He's realizing he's never really gotten the idea of wanting to give oneself and take another. He’s taking in everything, taking everything you’re willing to give.

He knows your conviction well enough, at this point, when it comes to others. He’s asked for time, and that essentially means, the second he stops, he’s going to be locked off from doing this again. He has to give everything—then take everything he can. Ration it out, over weeks. God, what if it’s months? You wouldn’t hold this from him for months, surely?

You tap his neck, gently, and he swears he hears— Feels a gasp. A moan? Don’t think about it. He pulls away, just a few centimetres. He smells like you. He still smells like you. Staring. Soft, scary, eye contact. It’s two in the morning, your makeup has melted, your lip gloss has evaporated, but it doesn’t look like it. No. They’re perfectly wet, blush pink bottom lip. Don’t think about it. He thinks about it; he doesn’t think about his next sentence. You speak at the same time, and for the first time, don’t say the same thing.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“You’ve gotta go, Carmy.”

He shakes his head; you can’t be serious. You’re so sweet, and now you’d be so cruel? You laugh at him, incredulous. He swallows, correcting himself, “Come up and—And sleepover, just that. Make you breakfast, again.” He kisses you, again, selfish. He knows that. He’s at peace with it.

“Carmy,” Good start, that deserves a kiss. “—as much as I’d love to see your apartment—”

“You’d hate it.” He cuts you off, God, it looks like you’re gonna keep talking, and he’s going to have to respect that. He switches to your jawline. “I don’t have a bookshelf.”

“You— Hold on, you don’t have a bookshelf, Carmen?”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Don’t bite! How many books do you have?”

“Ninety-one. Cookbooks. I narrowed down for the move.”

“Where do you— Christ— Keep ninety-one books?”

“Floor.”

“Floor?!”

“I told you you’d hate it.”

“I don’t hate it, I just— You deserve to have nice things.”

He pulls back again, staring at you, practically wheezing he’s breathing so heavy. He thinks on it for a second, this time. He wants nice things, too. You make him believe he deserves nice things. You're why he took a chance, took a risk, and told you he wanted to see if more could happen. He believes he deserves nice things. Nice you.“Come up.”

This motherfucker is evil, you think. He’s asked you to hold a conviction, asked you to hold a level of patience, for him. And you’re trying so hard to hold that conviction— While he’s actively trying to make you break it the second he’s decreed it. You’re hanging by a thread here. You cradle his face in both hands, kissing him on your own accord, this time. He takes this as meaning he’s supposed to go insane again. You laugh, and that makes it hard for him to not laugh too, which makes it hard to kiss you.

“Carmy.” You hold him back by his shoulders, just slightly. Giggling. You’re smiling, he can get you to fold, if he puts his mind to it. “You’ve got Syd coming over in the morning, all week—”

“Not until noon.”

“Baby, not the point.” Oh, pet names. Good. You called him Sweetheart when he was locked in the freezer, and that was all his brain had to work with until now. God, why did he say he wanted to get to know you first? You can do two things at the same time. You're multi-faceted.

“The sooner—” You wheeze, looking at him, he looks insane. “The sooner you go get sleep, the sooner the morning will come, the week will go by, you’ll start being able to pay yourself, soon enough. I’ll become your barback, you’ll be able to take time for yourself, and you’ll ask me out.”

He stares at you, thinking. “…I don’t think it’d go any faster—” “Carmen!” You squeeze his face with one hand. “Bedtime!”

He nods, finally, escaping his fugue state. “Okay.” He reaches into the back to grab his grocery bags. Christ, don’t look at the midriff, motherfucker, lock in! Lock it in!

You start to peel off his jean jacket to return it, he’s quick to stop you.

“Keep it. Wear it to work. Til you quit.” He looks at you, considering something once again, groceries in hand. “…Wear this too.”

After he finally gets out, and you wave to him from your window, waiting for him to get inside safely. You drive off, heading home. You take a long fucking breath. Slowly, your motor skills and cognitive abilities return to you.

You take one hand off the steering wheel, fishing out your rope chord necklace from your pocket. You rub your thumb over the plastic pendant, a year-old self-soothing method, by now.

You think about something Mikey said off-handedly, quite often, you squint, staring at the road ahead, perplexed, driving home with the first hickey you’ve had in a minute. You shout out in your car, pleading for an answer from beyond the grave here.

“Mikey, are you sure he’s a virgin?!”

Before we even, start here-- Number one, I'm sure you've forgotten at this point, but I will eat that lightbulb, motherfucker-- I just wrote 8k, I need my k of thoughts in return!! What'd you like! What stuck out to you! Favourite lines/moments!

What even happened in this chapter, deadass, I can't remember it all. Let's try to summarize.

Birth (woah!)

Mikey talks, a lil more of their friendship revealed, cute

Syd and Tony being cute as hell. Speaking of, I'm Desi, so I write Tony like a WOC-- I don't think it makes a huge difference to their dynamic, but I felt like noting it. Oh, Tony's gift!! Collar pins!!

Jacket exchange program, fr.

We would've been friends in highschool.

Why!!! You wanna ask me out!!!??? (crashes car)

Haha, what if you worked for me? (imagines a full perfect life together) I'm so normal.

(buys the brand of body wash you like) (specifically doesn't get the one that could give you a headache after a prolonged period of time) (even if it's the relaxing one) This is what normal people do.

Paramedic/Chicago's Kindest backstory!

(pseudo) ASKS OUT!! TENATIVELY!! REALLY JUST GOT SO FUCKING SCARED BY THE IDEA OF YOU GOING ON A DATE WITH SOMEONE TONIGHT THAT HE HAD TO TAKE THE PLUNGE.

kith.

That was the coin flip, btw. Hehehe. Heads he goes full smooch, Tails you go 'alright, sick, see u later', and he leaves. I could see it going either way. Carmen's a reserved guy. I knew I was going to make him state his interest, because I wanted to try out a lil something new. In the past, I've had the climax of a romance be 'omg we like each other how nice', and I wanted to try out the idea of these two knowing they like each other, and basically trying to maintain that. Thought it'd be fun.

Oh, this one's serious. I gotta know-- Good kiss? God I feel like someone's first boyfriend. I do not write sequences of intimacy. I go 'they fucking kiss, hurray, next scene'. And so, I really gave it my all here. I hope it turned out. I think Carm and Tony had so much tension piled on top of so much trauma that it simply couldn't have not been so feral.

Anyways, I expect an essay on my desk tomorrow. Thesis statements with supporting evidence, motherfucker. I love u. I hope u liked it <3

I start my job next week so I'm trying to write as much as possible before then, lmao.

Next Part

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Jason Todd and paramedic, neighbor, reader?

So, you've got this neighbor, he moved in not long before you, your apartment doors are right next to each other on the top level of the small complex and you just can't stop running into each other.

It started after a pretty unremarkable shift no long after you moved in, more transports and fallen grandmas than gunshot wounds and overdoses. After parking your motorcycle you begun your sleepy accent to your apartment, slinging your duffle over your shoulder. Only to be greeted by a pair of broad shoulders making their way up the stairs in front of you, which wouldn't be all that weird, except that its 3am and the majority of Gotham's population is tucked in bed at this hour. Slinking back a little, as to not bother this man you've never met you continue up the stairs, taking in this fellow occupier of the night, who's wearing tactical gear, gun holsters and has a red helmet unlike you've ever seen, in his hand.

At the top of the stairs you both take out your keys, and end up at a set of identical doors, placed right next to each other. There's no sense in hanging back, you can tell he knows your there, and he seems oddly unthreatening. You each fumble with your respective locks, exchange an awkward glance as he turns and takes in your work uniform, at this point disheveled and almost certainly clad with spare gloves, sailene and pens hanging out of ajar pockets on your pants, you depart with a slight nod, entering the dim comfort of your apartment.

The next time you see the oddly handsome, tactically clad neighbor is again, after work, but this time at your favorite 24 hour chinese place. You run into him walking in, there to pick up your respective orders. The man at the counter, of course, handed you each the wrong order.

"hey, um sorry-" he says rubbing the back of his neck, "I think I got yours-" "oh, sorry" you say, turning to face him "your, um Jason?" looking at the tag stapled to the bag. "um yeah, that's me, we're neighbors, right? You live in 211?" He says hesitantly."Yeah, it's nice to actually meet you, I'm y/n. You hold out your hand for him to shake, he takes it, his hand gently engulfing yours, it's rough and warm "it's good to know you like good chinese" you say laughing at the situation. You end up making it home before your neighbor that night.

The week after that you run into your neighbor again, this time at work. Your answering a call that came in for a civilian that was injured in the crossfire of a drug bust. When you pull up to the scene you get the feeling this wasn't a normal cop operation. Amongst the various cop cars you see none other than batman with nightwing not far away from him, but what catches your eye after you and your partner have loaded the patient is a man seemingly trying to keep to the shadows next to batman, who's wearing the very same tactical gear, helmet and leather jacket that you've seen on your neighbor. He glances your way, latching onto your figure before the ambulance doors are pulled shut and your off to the hospital.

The next two interactions with your unusual neighbor are almost strangely normal.

You see him on your day off, because of course he goes to the same gym you do. You spot him after moving to a new rack, he's doing bicep curls, in shorts and a tank top instead of the tactical gear you're used to seeing him in. Varying size scars dot his skin like freckles. You can't help but notice just how big he is, yeah, you knew he was tall, but seeing him for more than a fleeting moment you can observe just how broad he is, well, everywhere. He notices you when he turns to take a drink out of his water bottle, expression surprised as he sends a hesitant little wave your way.

Later the same day your sitting on your couch at dusk when you get a soft knock on your door. Looking through the peephole you see Jason standing outside your door in sweats an a t-shirt, what looks like flour dusting his shirt as he stands outside your door twiddling his thumbs. "Hey, what's up?" You say after opening the door. "Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if I could borrow some sugar.." Jason says while wringing his hands. "Oh, sure, come in." you move out of the doorway. Jason hulks awkwardly in your kitchen, like he's afraid he'll break something or scare you. "How much do you need?", you say getting a bag and moving over to your sugar jar. "Oh, only about half a cup-" "Okay, not to pry or anything but, you uh..work with batman?" Jason shifts on his feet, "Yeah, you could say that, we work together sometimes... I noticed your a paramedic?" Obviously deflecting from himself. "Yeah, I just got transferred to a station near here." Normally you'd never tell someone you aren't all that close to that you work in the area, but considering that he's seen you at work, oh, what the hell. "Are you enjoying it here?", Jason shifts on his feet again, seeming to scan your apartment like he's looking for danger or vulnerability on the walls. "It's been okay, I'm pretty familiar with the area.. I've lived in Gotham my whole life." You move to hand Jason the sugar "Y'know I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who cooks.." He gently takes the bag of sugar, nessling it in his hand, "Oh, I like to bake actually, I'm making a cake." You walk him to the door, he tells you tidbits about his cake all the way. "Sounds delicious, I'd love to try it sometime Jason." A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he nods before returning to his apartment.

The next day you're greeted by a bag on your door handle when you get off work. Inside is a carefully packaged piece of cake in tupperware, with a note on top, 'Hope you enjoy - J.T.' .

The next time you run into your neighbor is in the parking garage. You ride your bike down to your assigned parking spot, Jason's is in it's spot, but so is he, slumped against it visibly having been put through the ringer. "Jason?" you call out, parking your bike. "Hey, do you happen to have any medical supplies from work?" The gash on his thigh, along with several other little cuts are visible now that your closer. "Jesus, yeah I've got a full kit in my apartment-" Jason shifts, standing. "Thanks" he says.

"You really don't have to go to this much trouble-" Jason grimises as you put another stitch in the gash. "Yes I do, I'm not gonna let you walk around with a gaping wound-" You finish the final stitch with a swift cut of the thread, "I feel bad for making you work after your shift".

You begin dabbing antiseptic into his cuts, "I think you'd feel worse if you were left with an open wound." You awkwardly squat in front of Jason to get the cut on his forehead easier, "Still, let me make it up to you?" Jason lightly touches your knee, "I'd love to get dinner sometime if you want."

"This is an odd way to ask a girl out Jason" You chuckle as Jason blushes, "I'm free tomorrow"

[coolemmasulivan2]

Clumsy Woman

Pairing: Rúben Dias x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn't like how clumsy you are, afraid you might seriously injure yourself.

Word count: 1976

Can't pretend to understand I'll be here to hold your hand I will wait for you, I will wait for you

You had been clumsy from a young age. Falling from trees, falling off bicycles, or simply tripping over your own feet seemed to be your speciality. It was during one of these graceful performances that you met your boyfriend, Ruben. You were barreling toward a magnificent face-plant when his strong arms caught you, saving you from certain embarrassment.

"I want to paint that wall!" You announced over breakfast one morning, your eyes sparkling with determination. "A deep blue, maybe."

Ruben raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the wall. "That bookshelf has to go first." He pointed out. "It's heavy. We can do it together this weekend." He kissed your forehead and grabbed his keys. "I have to go!"

"Bye." Your attention was still on the wall and Ruben knew what you were thinking.

"Don't do it!" He called out as he reached for his bag. "Wait for me."

"But it's my day off!" You protested, already picturing the transformed wall. "I can at least start." Ruben gave you a look. "Fine." He gave you one final kiss on the lips and then left for training.

You didn't like to stay still at home. There was always a compulsion to be busy, so when boredom crept in, your eyes fell on the wall, then the bookshelf. Maybe it wasn't that difficult. With a burst of energy, you dashed out the door to buy the paint and everything you needed to paint the wall.

At home, you slip into old clothes and turn up the music. The bookshelf was packed with your books and Ruben's trophies. He'd be furious if he saw you right now, but you would prove you could handle it alone.

The bookshelf, a dark wood monster that dominated the room, had been a custom order. You started by emptying it, a task that required more muscle than expected. Then came the acrobatics. With much effort, you managed to slide a rug under one end. But as you attempted to repeat the same on the other side, disaster hit. Your hands slipped and the bookshelf came crashing down on your bare foot. A scream ripped through you as pain exploded.

"Don't do it!" Ruben's words echoed in your head. He was so going to kill you.

With a grunt of effort, you lifted the bookshelf off your foot. Pain shot through you as you collapsed to the floor, cradling your injured limb. It looked horrific, swollen and red. Trying to stand was a mistake, as a fresh wave of agony crippled you. You couldn't walk.

"Oh God, oh God!" Panic set in. Your phone was fumbled out of your pocket. You needed help, and you needed it now. Ruben wouldn't be home for hours. Calling an ambulance was the only option.

Ruben stepped into the locker room, and he heard the insistent vibration of his phone. "That thing hasn't stopped ringing." Bernardo commented, a grin spreading across his face.

Ruben's brow furrowed as he glanced at the caller ID. It was Lily, your best friend. "Hey, Lily, everything okay?"

"Hi Ruben, sorry to bother you, but I was supposed to meet Y/N at your place, and she’s not there and a neighbour mentioned seeing an ambulance at your building." His blood ran cold. "Do you know what happened?"

"I can't believe her!" His voice rose in frustration. "She wanted to paint the wall, the one with the bookshelf. I told her not to touch it!" A wave of dread washed over him.

"She probably didn't listen. Oh God." Lily knew you better than anyone. Your stubborn independence was legendary. "I've tried calling her, but no answer."

"Let me take a shower really quick and then I'll call you back."

Bernardo and Walker exchanged concerned glances. "What's going on, man? Your girl in trouble again?" Walker asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

"Looks like it!" Ruben replied, his voice rough. "She can't stay out of trouble for five minutes. Fuck." He desperately searched for the contact of his friend Eric who worked at the hospital. He answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, mate, what's up?"

"Eric, man, sorry to bother you, I know you're working, but I need a huge favour." Ruben rushed out, his voice was laced with urgency.

"Shoot!" Eric replied, his tone professional.

"Can you check if Y/N was admitted to the hospital? I think she might have had an accident. Again." He quickly explained the situation, his voice rising with each word. Eric promised to check and call back in a few minutes.

"I'm gonna be quick in the shower." Ruben said, turning to his friends. "If Eric calls, can you answer? Please." Walker and Bernardo nodded.

He'd never showered so fast in his life. Emerging a few minutes later, Bernardo was already on the phone.

"I'll tell him, thanks, Eric," Bernardo said, hanging up.

Ruben's heart pounded in his chest. "So?"

"She's there. Broken foot, but she's okay." Bernardo reported.

"For fuck's sake."

You rolled your eyes as Ruben burst into the hospital room. His face was a mask of irritation. Lily, who'd arrived earlier, squeezed your hand in silent support before stepping back.

"Seriously, Y/n?" Ruben’s voice was dripping with disbelief. "I told you to stay put."

"I'm fine, thanks for the concern." You replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You loved him and knew he was worried, but sometimes it felt suffocating.

"A broken foot means you’re not." He disagreed. "Can’t you just stay still for one day?"

You didn’t want to argue, especially as he seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. "I’m a grown woman, Ruben. I don’t need you to tell me to sit still."

"Well, you don’t act like one. Sometimes I feel like I’m dating a child." His response was harsh and unexpected.

Shock washed over you. Had he really just said that?

"Maybe you should break up with this child then. I wouldn’t want to keep the great Ruben Dias from the real women in the city." You retorted, your voice trembling with anger.

He ran his hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. He knew his words had been cruel, but his worry often manifested in this way. But breaking up with you was the last thing he wanted.

"You know that’s not what I meant-- what are you doing?" He began, but you cut him off as you tried to stand, to reach for the crutches. He pushed you back down, but you quickly pushed his hand away.

"Lily, can you take me home, please?" You asked, ignoring Ruben completely.

Lily, who had been a silent observer, helped you up.

"I can take you home!" Ruben offered.

"I don’t want you to take me home." You replied coldly. "You don’t have a car seat for a child, remember?"

Using crutches was something familiar. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had broken other body parts before.

In the car, Lily broke the tense silence. "You know he’s just worried about you."

"I know, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like a child. "He has known since the beginning how clumsy I am. If he can’t handle it, maybe we shouldn't be together."

"Don’t say that!" Lily replied, her voice firm. "You two can't live without the other." Through the rearview mirror, you saw Ruben’s car following you. "I know it’s hard, but try to understand his point of view."

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but the conversation. You knew Lily was right. Ruben loved you, and his overprotectiveness came from that love. But it was hard to accept when it felt like he was suffocating you.

As the car pulled up to your apartment building, you felt a pang of sadness hit you. Lily opened your door, and carefully you stepped out. "Thanks for everything, Lily. I really appreciate it."

She smiled. "Anytime, Babe! Call me if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded and the the help of the clutches you walked towards the building entrance. As you turned around, you saw Ruben's car waiting for the garage door of the building to open up. You hesitated, looking at his car for a long moment before turning and going inside.

When you entered the house, you realised that your books were scattered like confetti, Ruben's trophies were still on the dining table, and the monstrous bookshelf stood there, a mocking presence in the room. It was impossible to clean it up. Not with your foot like that.

A few minutes later, Ruben entered the house and he looked around it. You were nowhere to be seen, but by the sound of the water running, he knew you were taking a shower. Without his help.

What if you fell? He shocked the thought out of his head. You needed space and he was going to give it to you. Kind of.

Jumping from the shower with only one foot and the other in the air, you dried yourself and put on your pyjamas. You felt like everything was hurting, but you had to prove a point to Ruben. You could do things alone without needing his help.

As you opened the bedroom door, the smell of the food hit you and your belly made a noise, not realising how starving you were. However what surprised you the most was not Ruben cooking but the fact the bookshelf was no longer on the wall that you wanted to paint, but the wall in front of it, with all his trophies and your books. Everything was really clean and the small lamp you had on the corner where you sat reading was welcoming.

The table was set, and Ruben was busy tossing salad at the kitchen island. When he saw you emerge from the bedroom, he paused, his expression softening.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern.

You met his gaze with a cold stare. "Fine."

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, walking around the kitchen with surprising ease on your crutches. Ruben watched your movements with a mixture of relief and worry.

He sighed, setting down the salad bowl. "Can we talk?"

You scoffed. "Are you sure you want to do that? You think talking to a child is easy?" Your voice was sharp, but a pang of hurt shot through you as the words left your lips.

Ruben rinsed his hands and pulled out two chairs. Gently, he guided you to one and sat down across from you. His hands rested lightly on your bare legs. "I'm so sorry for calling you a child. I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It still hurt." You mumbled.

"I know, I know. I've been overprotective." He admitted. "But every time you get hurt, it feels like my heart stops. I worry about you constantly. But calling you a child was wrong, and I'm truly sorry."

Your anger was slowly dissipating. You couldn't stay mad at him for long. He always knew how to break through your walls. "You're an idiot if you think this is the last time I'll hurt myself." You retorted, trying to sound tough.

He chuckled softly. "Let me be an idiot, then. I love you, you know that, right?"

Ruben's eyes held yours. Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze lowered to your lips.

With a hesitant touch, his lips met yours. It was a soft and passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of relief and happiness wash over you. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

A small smile crept onto your face. "I know. I love you too."

[delulujuls]

silent carnival | ln4, op81

i will just leave this here without any particular comment. im glad that the las vegas is over and im even more glad that lando is okay. anyway, please enjoy it as always!

summary: lando crashed and went to the hospital, y/n and oscar coming to the rescue

warnings: nothing i think

pairing: lando norris x fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri

The prevailing silence in the car was almost deafening, even the radio didn't dare to hum songs. The only audible sound was the quiet engine working at full throttle, ready to reach the destination as quickly as possible.

Y/N and Oscar sat next to each other in the back seat, gazing at the night landscapes illuminated by fiercely glowing neon lights. Neither of them was in the mood for conversation. The atmosphere was truly worse than gloomy.

Las Vegas was way much more than intense. The city pulsated with nightlife, decidedly more than any other place where Formula 1 had the pleasure to visit. That's why the silence that surrounded the McLaren drivers was quite shocking. However, this silence was entirely justified. It emerged when the orange car with number four on it submerged in sparks and concluded its disastrous ride in the barriers. Right then, all of Las Vegas froze; right then, the entire McLaren garage held its breath.

When the taxi parked at the hospital driveway, the pair quickly stepped outside and headed towards the entrance. After talking to the woman in the reception point and facing temporary difficulties finding the right room, they humbly sat on chairs in front of it. They had to wait until the tests were completed and the doctors left the room, allowing them to come in.

Seeing Y/N nervous, Oscar wordlessly embraced her, providing comfort. She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder, knowing well that she wouldn't calm down until she saw Lando with her own eyes.

After some time, when two doctors and a nurse left, the couple entered the room. Lando was genuinely surprised to see his friends, but he smiled seeing them.

The girl quickly approached the bed, ready to hug him, but she hesitated and lowered her outstretched arms, not wanting to cause him unnecessary pain. However, Lando pulled himself up a bit, reaching out to her and allowing the embrace. Oscar exchanged a reassuring look with his friend, smiling at him encouragingly. He sat on the bed and also hugged Lando, soothingly patting his back.

"You gave us quite a scare," Y/N murmured, still holding him tightly.

"It looked worse than the actual outcome it brought," he replied.

After some time, she pulled away and sat beside him, scrutinizing him carefully. Fortunately, there were no signs of serious injuries, just a few bruises and bumps.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Oscar said, glancing at him. However, Lando didn't seem overly comforted.

"Maybe I'm fine, but I completely fucked the car. I'd rather something happened to me than—" "Don't even say that," Y/N quickly interrupted him, scolding him with her gaze.

"Our cars have been total crap for a few races now, so I think you did a favor to the factory people," Oscar remarked with a reassuring smile, lifting Lando's spirits a bit, although he still shook his head.

"Total massacre. At least you fought for our honor," Norris said, looking at the aussie.

"Fought is an understatement. Oscar was ready to throw hands," the girl laughed at his comment.

"Maybe it's for the best, considering how much of a disaster the track was. And you just crashed and hopped into the warm and comfy ambulance without giving a fuck—lots of space, delicious, perfectly chilled water, phew," Piastri joked, maintaining a serious demeanor.

Lando chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I'm glad this race is behind us," Norris admitted with a sigh, wincing as he adjusted himself on the bed. "It's just a shame about the outcome."

"It doesn't matter," Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder. "The most important thing is that you're okay."

"Since I'm fine, you shouldn't waste time here," Lando said, looking at his friends. "This is our last night in Vegas; I'd go for a wild party if I were you."

"Oh c'mon, fuck Vegas," Oscar cut in, shaking his head.

"I can't wait to leave this place," Y/N admitted, taking out her phone "I'll order us some champagne, what do you think? We need to toast to this cursed city."

"I'm a hundred percent in," Oscar nodded.

"I hope no one will be mad at us for a little party here," Y/N said, dialing a number.

"It's an open party, the McLaren house is open to everyone," Oscar added.

And as they said, so they did. Shortly after, three bottles of champagne appeared in the hospital room and each of the trio could swear that the shared evening was better than any party.

At some point, Lando stopped thinking about the past race and the unfortunate crash. His thoughts departed from that incident; he didn't even feel the pain of his bruised body as he held a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne in his hand. He couldn't also contain his smile as his friends danced in the middle of the hospital room, singing a song in his honor. At that moment, Lando was genuinely happy and understood that to feel this way, all he needed was the company of these two, who would do anything for him.

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

omg hihihi!!! im obsessed with the fic you wrote for niki and james and i was wondering if you could write one for ayrton senna? maybe with the reader being his teammate and its their first season and just him falling in love with her? idk tbh. its criminal that theres so little fics of him im obsessed with him currently xx

☆ old money — ayrton senna x reader

tags: car crash

note: fr there are no fics about him. also i love old f1 vibes

masterlist

»»————-　★　————-««

When you first met him, you immediately noticed how oddly he was looking at you. You couldn’t get whatever he was thinking, so you just assumed he didn’t like you. For a time. Then one day something changed.

You crashed in Imola. You got out of the car without even a scratch, but the faces of the people when you returned to the paddock with the ambulance made you guess it mustn’t have looked good from the screens.

And there he was. Despite the very few words you exchanged since you knew each other, rushing towards you, none other than the best driver on the grid, your rival and teammate Ayrton Senna.

Brown eyes filled with worry and hair still soaked in sweat, he called your name and took your arms in his hands. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I– I think I’m okay. I just got scared.” You didn’t know why you were telling your feelings to him, you just didn’t think much about it.

“Me too.” For a moment you thought he was gonna pull you in a hug, but he didn’t. He just softly put a hand on you cheek and then let go of you. “Glad to know you’re well, pequena.”

You found Ayrton standing in front of his Porsche Cabriolet at the end of the day. It was getting dark, few people were still in the paddock to celebrate his victory.

You hurried to reach him before he left. “Ayrton.” He turned around, but you know he was already looking at you from afar. He clearly had a shower because he smelled fresh and the red overalls had given way to a white elegant shirt. “I wanted to congratulate. Also, thank you for worrying about me earlier, you kind of reassured me.”

“No need to thank me.” He made a pause. You wondered if it was time for you to go. “You know, I was going to dinner with a friend but he won’t be able to come. Would you like to join? I have a reservation for two.”

You stared at him, surprised by the invitation, then looked down at your own jeans and blouse outfit. “I don’t know if I’m suited for the situation.”

“You are.” He opened the front seat door for you. “Let’s go.”

The restaurant was a villa in the Emilian countryside. You had never seen such a beautiful place in your entire life.

The dinner went very well. You ate pasta on a table in the garden. There were warm lights that made the location very cozy. Ayrton was so sweet, very different from the fierce man everybody saw on track. You talked about the race, but not only. You learned more about his personal life and viceversa. He asked if you were seeing someone, you shook your head. “And you?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

You thought of the gorgeous girls he was often photographed with. You didn’t believe yourself to be that pretty.

“I’m sorry if I’m not very talkative between one race and the other, I’m just trying to stay professional.” His freckles were as glaring as ever in that light. After his words, you realized you may have misinterpreted his detachment. “But when you crashed today… I don’t know, it seemed dangerous from my point of view. The thought of not seeing you next to me anymore scared me a lot.”

Spelling those words, Ayrton was playing with the glass of water in his hand, his eyes shyly looking downwards. “So I wondered if you’d like to hang out. Outside of work, I mean.”

In his own words, that was a declaration.

“I–“ That was what you wanted since you saw him introducing himself in that conference room, however you knew how risky the situation you were putting yourself into was. But right there, looking up at you with those eyes full of hope, surrounded by that magical place, he was so handsome. “I’d love to.”

[shubblelive]

— FRIENDLY COMPETITION

summary : you and tommy have been dating for months, and there's a million things you love about him. however, you're usually not doing that in front of your entire audience. but after a surprising mcc debut, what's one more good thing?

genre : fluff

warnings: mentions of reader breaking a bone as a kid

pairing : cc!tommyinnit x fem!cc!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is tommy's girlfriend

featuring : cc!tommyinnit, cc!philza (mentioned), cc!smajor (mentioned), cc!shubble (mentioned), cc!orionsound (mentioned)

request : I was wondering if you could do a fic where y/n (with fem pronouns) is a streamer and wins her fist mcc and when she wins Tommy comes into her room and is so excited that she won that forgets they hadnt told the internet they were dating and kisses her <3

word count : 1.1k

note : i love writing for tommy so much but unfortunately i don't get a lot of ideas, so whenever i get reqs for him i get super excited. for context, i wrote this around mcc 26 because it's my favourite (i KNOW it's almost a year old at this point, like i said it's my favourite). reader replaces fruitberries on the violet vampires team, he won that mcc with phil, oli and shelby, so you can probably tell why it's my favourite lmao but also i feel like tommy would call you girlfriend in place of a petname, i think it's cute. i hope you enjoy angel <333

When you were six, you broke your wrist. You and a group of your classmates had been out at lunch in the playground, engaged in an intense monkey bars contest when you fell. You didn’t remember much, the ambulance ride to A&E, maybe. Being comforted in your hospital bed as you awaited X-ray results with cuddles and cookies, definitely. Not a lot of pain, not a lot of suffering. You never got back on the monkey bars after that though. Competing with the other kids just felt like a bad idea after that. You learned to run your own race, and you’d been living like that for over a decade.

Your left hand twinged, aching slightly. Maybe it was that the bones never realigned on your wrist, but it was most likely due to the intense keyboard-pressing you’d been doing for the last five hours. You weren’t big on MCC, you were a builder rather than a combative player, and that suited you just fine. You tuned in once a month, sure, but that was mainly to support. You and Tommy had been dating for eight whole MCCs now, and he’d been the one to encourage you to apply. 

Your shooting skills were… fine. You knew how to play the game, of course, you’d been playing it for over half your life. You just didn’t do much of it recently, hence the two hour practice you’d taken before the start of the event. The first game had been Parkour Warrior, which happened to be your best. The early confidence boost (combined with the encouraging messages you and Tommy had been exchanging on Discord between each event, unbeknownst to your chats) had helped you - you’d come in second overall. But by the fifth game your team wasn’t even in the top 5. You were nervous, worried about letting your team down but, as Phil rightfully pointed out you had “did the best out of all of us, dude.” You’d been really lucky with your team. Everyone on it was someone you knew at least vaguely. You’d spoken to Phil a bunch since starting your relationship with Tommy, and he’d been a big help. Shelby and Oli, your other two teammates were both complete sweethearts and you’d loosened up massively since the beginning of the event. 

Things picked up after SkyBattle, and no one in your chat even noticed when you and Tommy took breaks at the same time (two waterbottle refills and a reassuring kiss that had you on your A-Game for the last hour and a half of the event). 

And then came DodgeBolt. 

Your shooting skills were fine. Truly, but your entire team getting killed in less than five minutes leaving you and Scott in the arena alone. You were silent, focusing too hard on not dying to even think about addressing your chat. Phil was murmuring encouragement into the VC that you were actively tuning out in an attempt to concentrate. Tommy was sitting at his desk three rooms away, quiet as a mouse. He hadn’t moved in so long that his chat had started spamming lag. He had been trying not to be too obvious about it, but it was you versus the manager of the event engaged in a 1v1 for your first time in the contest. Your hand was cramping and you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard it was painful, but you had an arrow and a shot. Scott had an arrow as well, and you knew that if you left it any longer he’d get you, so you let your instincts take over and let it go. 

VIOLET VAMPIRES TAKE THE CROWN!

Shelby was screaming in the VC before you could comprehend what had just happened, and before you could even move arms were around you. Your office door had swung open as your golden retriever of a boyfriend all but lifted you out of your chair, pressing a proud kiss to your lips. 

“Oh my god,” you murmured, face hidden in the blue fabric of his shirt. “I won?”

“You won!” Tommy was yelling, grin taking over his face.

You let out a squeal of delight as you kissed the corner of his mouth in return, your temple being peppered with supportive kisses. “I won! Chat, oh my god-” You turned back towards your stream and were suddenly struck with the fact that you were, in fact, broadcasting this live. “Chat. Oh my god.”

Tommy was suddenly very still. You did a double take between your monitor, chat zipping past so fast it was making your head spin, and your boyfriend. You had about three seconds to make a move before it was awkward and you already knew that the cat was out of the bag. You’d be trending on twitter within an hour if you weren’t already. 

“Chat, I won!” You turned back to Tommy, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tommy was stiff, but you pressed a kiss to his jawline, right below his ear, out of frame of your camera. “We’re okay, boyfriend,” your voice was soft as you held him, his hands coming up on your back, squeezing you tightly. 

That snapped him out of it, and suddenly the two of you were back to screaming. “I’m so proud of you,” you were swaying on the spot, you gazing past his arm to your monitor, evidence of your win right there on your screen.

“I love you,” he kissed your hairline. “Girlfriend.”

He had to get back to his chat eventually and you needed to get back in the VC with the rest of your team members, exchanging congratulations. You hung around on the server for another twenty minutes before excusing yourself and finishing up the stream. You and Tommy had both silently agreed to not address what had happened and you reconvened in the hallway half an hour after the end of the event. Sitting on the sofa, you pulled out your phone and were immediately introduced to the downside of having a famous boyfriend. His full weight was put on your, your phone slipping out of your grasp and between the couch cushions. He mumbled into your neck. “No twitter. Don’t care.”

Your hands delved into his curls as he closed his eyes. “But-”

He lifted his head off your chest to glare at you and you missed the weight. “Fine. But you’re ordering me dinner after my spectacular win.”

He laughed, rumble of his chest spreading warmly throughout your entire body. “You don’t even need your phone, see. You’ve got me, and don’t worry, yes I called the papers to tell them how well you did. Being a girlfriend gets you perks.”

“Being a boyfriend gets you perks, too.” You point out.

Tommy lifted his head again, only slightly, eyebrows raised. You kissed him one more time and he nodded, content. “I think maybe I win, actually.”

[bi-disaster-yn]

Female Rage

Paring: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks it’s a success when the team manage to uncover a Hydra human trafficking operation targeting women and girls. Reader knows it’s only a drop in the ocean of patriarchal violence towards women.

A/N: This was very cathartic for me to write. I carry around all these feelings and fanfic allows me to outlet them. Thanks for being part of it <3

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This fic discusses systematic issues around violence towards women and has mentions of trafficking, sexual violence, domestic abuse and murder.

The sirens, the flashing blue lights, and all of the people around you overwhelmed your senses. Your body became a mere vessel which moved without any control or instruction. A part of your soul had died but you had to keep going.

All around you were women and young girls who, just an hour prior, were being held in a lorry and were being trafficked to a covert Hydra base. The purpose of the operation was an early stage attempt to revive the Red Room but with a team of you, Bucky, Sam and Yelena you were able to put a stop to it.

Having managed to track the lorry down to the specific coordinates, you infiltrated the mission. They had been driving on a long and quiet country road, seemingly hidden by the cascades of giant trees in an extensive woodland. A nasty fight with the Hydra agents ensued when you and Yelena caught up with them in an Audi, while Bucky met them head on with a motorcycle and Sam flew in and took the roof. It concluded with them being hauled away in handcuffs but you wish you’d killed them.

Then came the aftermath.

The scene seemed to be carrying on around you without any of your input, as though you could disappear and nothing would have changed. Government officials, policemen and ambulances had arrived to assist in getting these women to safety. You were supposed to be directing them to safe points, instructing the paramedics and police officers on what to do next but the more you tried to focus, the harder it got.

Each time one of the victims thanked you, it sent an ugly shudder down your spine. An abnormally large shaped lump swelled in your throat, rendering a response impossible. All you could offer was a solemn nod, which somehow, they managed to receive your true meaning. An unspoken understanding that could only be shared between women endured throughout all of your exchanges.

Bucky and Sam were still capable of focus as they liaised with officers and helped women, offering more words of encouragement than you or Yelena ever could. Every now and then, Bucky flashed you an encouraging smile, clearly proud of what you were able to achieve today. It was something you couldn’t return.

Ringing in your ears persisted and you flinched as more sirens arrived. You moved without purpose, trying to point in different directions to aid the girls to paramedics if they needed medical attention, and to a police officer if not. Even then, a peculiar feeling churned in your stomach as you stared at the officers, who were all men and mentally cursed that no one in the police department had thought to send any women to this scene. Effectively, it felt like you were passing these girls from one evil, male-dominated organisation to another.

A strong sense of injustice built up tension in your body, harbouring an overpowering reaction, which you were unsure if you could suppress for much longer.

The match in the powder barrel, however, was witnessing a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 sheltering and comforting two little girls who were terrified and crying for their mother. At first glance, it appeared as though the little ones had no relation to her whatsoever. Yet, this girl had adopted this maternal role which she was far too young to accept. As soon as you saw them safely situated in an ambulance, you decided you couldn’t take this anymore.

Passing by everyone and ignoring calls from Sam, you stormed into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into the trees and the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

You couldn’t remember when you started crying, you just knew that tears streamed down your cheeks. The combination of the tears and the intense headache they brought blurred your vision. You brought your hands to your head and wailed, knowing that no one would hear you.

You thought about how those girls had now secured this trauma and although the Hydra mission hadn’t been completed, this ordeal would alter the courses of their lives forever. This would manifest itself in different ways in all of their lives. They’d never be able to live without the memory of this ever again, tainting their experiences, putting them on their guard, making them cautious of the world and what monsters harboured amongst the humans among them. Honestly, you preferred your chances against Thanos than the men that walked this Earth.

That very concept made you angry. No, not angry. Incandescent.

The lump in your throat was surpassed by a bloodcurdling scream, the sound of which was so terrifying that the birds from the trees desperately flew away in a flock.

It was the only sound that could be heard for miles. All your rage was buried deep inside these woods like it had been in your body for years.

At this moment, this is all you were capable of. You continued to scream despite the scratch it created in your throat, or the fact it had worsened your headache. There was just so much rage contained in your body and you needed to get it out of you, no matter what it took. It was a fury so specific; so intertwined with womanhood and the female experience that no cisgender man could ever comprehend it.

It was female rage.

You were in so much pain. While yesterday you had been wrapped up with Bucky under a blanket, watching TV, eating food, having sex, doing all the normal things one does in a relationship; somewhere else at the same time, this operation was starting. It wouldn’t have been the only one. You were having a carefree day with your boyfriend while elsewhere in the world, men were committing atrocities against women – whether at a systematic level or a domestic one.

You squeezed your eyes shut in aid of your screams. Still without any control, your limbs moved on their own as you started to violently kick and punch one of the trees. Any injury sustained from this frantic display didn’t matter to you. The harsh bark of the tree broke the skin of your knuckles and soon it was decorated with your blood. 

The screams and cries persisted as you channelled this anger into the assault of the tree. You were picturing those Hydra agents with the smug grin on their faces. You pictured the man that groped you in the club without your consent on your last girls’ night. You pictured the images of those incels you had curiously watched interviews with but had to turn your laptop off halfway through. You pictured the men who had refurbished the compound and had stared at you as you trained in the garden. You pictured every man who had ever questioned your ability to keep your emotions in check as a female Avenger.

You pictured them all and you desperately wanted them all to know how fucking helpless and infuriating this all felt. You wanted them to feel the weight of the world just as you had done from being a little girl.

Without warning, some force had pulled you back from the tree and had hauled you close into a smothering embrace. In spite of your blurred vision and your relentless howling, you recognised Bucky’s smell immediately as he held you close to his chest, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly together with his vibranium hand and using his flesh one to put your face in his neck. You struggled against him, feeling suffocated and not having abolished nearly as much fury as you needed to.

“Please, doll, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bucky mumbled against your forehead, pressing several gentle kisses to it. 

Nevertheless, you still fought against him. But Bucky was too strong for you and even in the arms of your beloved, you were still trapped by a man.

“Bucky. Let. Me. Go.” You shakily told him with gritted teeth.

“I’m scared to, sweetheart. Your hands… look at them.” He sobbed back, clearly in distress. A quick glimpse at your hands validated his concern. The skin round your knuckles had been torn open and in amongst the blood and mangled flesh lay splinters and chips from the tree.

It wasn’t sore, but the rest of your body was.

“I don’t understand, doll. Did something happen back there to upset you? You saved those girls. We wouldn’t have been able to do that mission without you.” Bucky said gently, loosening his grip only slightly to cradle you lovingly, rather than to protectively restrain you.

It triggered a scoff and even further anger from you.

“That’s not the point! The point is it keeps happening! We saved those girls today, sure. But somewhere out there, another one of those operations is starting and more girls will be hurt. Those operations are going on round the world, Bucky! They want us to be slaves to them in any way they can think of – whether that is to be used as a weapon or for sex or as working mules!

And these men, they’re so fucking clever! They’re making this untraceable! And we won’t be able to save them all. It’s never-ending, we’re trying to scoop up water from the ocean!”

Whether you intended it or not, the words came out as a yell and Bucky let you go. Clearly, none of this had ever occurred to him and your fury scared him. Meanwhile, your hand gestures went wild as you spoke, your facial expressions became more animated. This was only the beginning as your thoughts continued to spill out to the unassuming and gentle man you loved so much.

“And this? This is worst case scenario! Every single day women are subject to the violence of men! We’ve saved those girls, right? And we’re gonna do what? Give them normal homes so they can walk about with their keys in their hands?! We handed them over to fucking police officers who themselves have a history of being violent towards women. The cycle repeats itself!

That’s not the end of it though, these men are in our homes with us. They are beating us, raping us, killing us. We can’t escape them. The good ones aren’t signposted – we just have to trust you and it is the biggest and deadliest risk that we all take.”

Bucky nodded along with you, processing your words and affording you as much space to speak as possible. At first, he was just relieved that you hadn’t resumed your beating on the tree. Then, he began to really listen to you and consume your words and your fury. It horrified him.

In truth, he always appreciated that there was a disproportionate tendency in violence to women and that the world existed on a patriarchal system and that some men were just sexist pigs. Admittedly, this had gotten a lot better than things were in the 40s. However, he had never truly really given it much thought or considered how to change any of it. That was just the way things were. How does one go about revolutionising an entire system? Especially one that appeared to be changing over time as he had suspected.

He took a step forward, holding his arms out for you in case you needed some sanctuary. It was an offer you refused, standing awkwardly and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your mission jacket. Attempts to comfort you at this point were futile.

“I’m sorry, doll. I have never thought about it like that. I guess it’s because I’ve never had to.” Bucky began with a sympathetic look. “But you can’t do this all by yourself. You did something so good today and you should be proud of yourself for it.”

You sank to your knees, planting your palms in the dirt below you to try and restore some strength to your frail frame. He was right, but he’d never truly understand.

“I just feel so helpless, Bucky. I feel like I’m drowning and every time I put my head above water, someone pulls me back down again.” You explained with fresh, stinging tears. “I’m a fucking Avenger and even I can’t stop this.”

Bucky knelt on the ground in front of you with a sigh, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t make this better for you. It killed him to see his girl so heartbroken and defeated while he could do nothing about it.

“Those girls we saved are going to tell you their stories and you’re going to be upset and you’ll cry for them because you know what it’s like on a human level to be captured and forced to do something you don’t want to do. But you will never understand this pain and fear on a systematic level like I do! To know that you’re inherently in danger just because you were born a woman. I need to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

This time, when Bucky took you in his arms, you let him. The early exertions had exhausted your body and now you were ready to bury your face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling safe. The venting had alleviated some of the pain but it still persisted, bubbling discreetly under the surface of your skin, ready to boil again when you were next pushed.

Bucky pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. He appreciated that there was nothing he could say to make you feel better. Instead, he offered himself to you as comfort to take from him what you needed. The real effects of your headache and bloody knuckles came into fruition and you clenched your fists to deal with the physical pain while Bucky rocked you in a comforting motion.

“Promise me one thing, sweetheart?” Bucky asked and took your hum as permission to keep talking. “Promise me that no matter how tough this all gets; you don’t let it consume you. You are the best person I know and I will follow you into any mission, battle or war for this. But please don’t hurt yourself over it or try and deal with it on your own. I love you, please let me help. Tell me how I can be better.”

You held him so tightly that you might crush him, grateful for his support and his pledge of allegiance to your cause. Blinking away tears that threatened to fall you nodded against his neck so that he knew you had understood him.

“I promise. And, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Just know that all this anger and hatred I have towards men and how they treat us never applies to you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky held you there in that spot in the woods for what felt like hours until he eventually carried you home. Fatigue had overpowered your body but your brain was still active, already plotting and planning what you were going to do next and how you were going to use your Avenger status as an advantage.

You wouldn’t change the system overnight but you were going to do everything in your power to rally up as much support as possible. The pain and anger that was deep rooted inside you was converted to raw energy and you had the appetite to make a difference.

Female rage is a powerful thing.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Can I get Hotch accompanying a very nervous/anxious reader to the hospital? Either they’ve fallen sick at work or had an accident in the field but basically they shyly ask hotch to come with because he’s so sweet and kind and good at holding their hand when they need it ♥️

Hospitals

Warnings: Hospitals, injured ankle, reader feels a bit anxious, Hotch being sweet 🤭

Word count: 568

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

A/n: Hehe yes my love<33. I'm not entirely happy with how this came out but I'm not entirely disappointed in the outcome either 😂. This was not proofread so there may be some mistakes.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau (I think I got you all 😂🩷)

The unsub had been successfully caught. The only issue was that you'd stumbled when you tackled him and twisted your ankle in the process. And it hurts like hell. No one had really noticed it during the take down.

Hospitals sort of freaked you out a bit. You didn't really like the idea of going to the hospital in the first place, let alone going by yourself. So who better to ask than Aaron Hotchner? Someone you've always been able to rely on since starting at the BAU and has for some reason always had a soft spot for you.

You'd been limping and wincing as you made your way over to Hotch. He was talking to Rossi about something so of course you waited patiently. Even though this definitely does not call for patience on your end.

Dave notices you first and points to you, causing Aaron to turn and face you. "Hotch uh, I sort of fell and um...could you come to the hospital with me please? I think I messed up my ankle. I don't want to go by myself." You mumbled it shyly. Upon hearing this, Hotch immediately had concern written all over his features. He moved closer and put a hand on your lower back then looked to see which leg you were currently favouring over the other. Supporting most of your weight on one foot. He moved your arm around his neck and helped support you with his arm now wrapped around your shoulders.

"Of course. Can you walk to the SUV?" You give him a small nod. Neither of you thought it really called for using the ambulance when there was at least one injury that was far worse than yours.

After telling Rossi to inform the team of what was going on, Hotch helped you get in the backseat and into a good position before driving you to the nearest hospital. It was a local case so he knew exactly where he was going.

Once you'd made it to the hospital and you had been placed in a room awaiting the results of the x-ray, Aaron could see how nervous you were about being there. He didn't know why and he didn't want to pry for information. So instead he gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, offering a small smile.

"How are you doing? Apart from the ankle."

"I'm alright. I'm just nervous. Hospitals...they aren't really my thing, you know?" Hotch gives a sympathetic nod and another gentle squeeze. "I understand that. Is there anything I can do to help?" You look away for a moment as you think and then turn back to him. "Could I have a hug?" He gives you a slightly bigger smile this time and leans in close to wrap his arms around you. "You can always have a hug, y/n." You both stay like this for a few seconds and then he pulls back, taking your hand in his again.

"Any better?"

"Very much. Thank you, Hotch. For coming here and sitting with me. And putting me at ease. You didn't have to but thank you for doing it anyway."

"I didn't have to, but I wanted to. I'm glad to."

Exchanging smiles once again, you're feeling much better now. Aaron has a way of calming you down and you're always grateful that he's willing to do so without hesitation.

[flurrys-creativity]

Green-eyed

Pairing: Kang Yeosang (Ateez) x GN!Reader; Genre: Idol AU, Established Relationship, Angst, Fluff, SMAU; Rating: sfw, NC-17; Warnings: jealousy, woo being a menace, suggestive, allusions to sex; Wordcount: 907

Summary: After finding concert tickets for another group, Yeosang was blinded by jealousy and demanded an explanation immediately. In his fit he came to one conclusion after another - one worse than the one prior. Would you actually have an explanation though?

A/N: @mingsolo brought the idea to the net and obviously I - as well as @daemour and @sanjoongie - immediately jumped on board! So jealous Ateez when you go on a concert... (mine's definitely based on that discussion video!)

Yeosang saw the rolling eye emoji followed by the can’t see monkey emoji as your last response before he put his phone away and turned his attention to his best friend. “You need to leave. Now.”

Wooyoung jumped up from the couch, staring at Yeosang with wide eyes as he screeched in disbelief. “WHAT?”

Yeosang winced at the volume and pitch, even though he should be used to it after years of being Wooyoung’s friend. He unconsciously pressed a finger close to his ear as if that pressure would ease the pain from his eardrum. “Y/N’s coming home soon and if you don’t want to be killed because you opened the mail, you should leave now.”

“What? Where’s that confident guy from a few minutes ago?! You were hellbent on telling Y/N your piece of mind and now you’re kicking me out?” Wooyoung whined loudly, before he quickly leaned forward and grabbed his friend’s phone, opening the messenger app and scanning through the messages Yeosang had exchanged with you. 

Yeosang protested weakly, knowing if Wooyoung had his mind set on something, he wouldn’t be able to change it. Instead he simply stood there, waiting for Wooyoung to return his phone.

“Ahhhh”, Wooyoung exclaimed loudly, pointing an accusing finger towards his friend. “Now it all makes sense!”

“Mystery solved. You can leave now.”

“You know that Y/N still hasn’t given you a real explanation though!”

Yeosang’s brows furrowed in thought. He picked up his phone again, scrolling through the messages. “Y/N said…”

“Y/N asked you what there was to explain but didn’t say anything regarding why there were tickets for a different group!” Wooyoung interrupted Yeosang, completely jumping up from the couch and grabbing his shoulders, shaking them almost violently.

You walked into your shared apartment, seeing Wooyoung arguing with a frowning Yeosang. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, leaning against the doorframe as you watched them for a while. Once you had enough of Wooyoung trying to get into your boyfriend’s head, you cleared your throat.

“You still haven’t explained the tickets!” Wooyoung immediately exclaimed as he saw you, ignoring how you glared at him.

“Yeosang?” Your voice was sweet but cold at the same time, making Wooyoung halt in his ranting and nervously glance at his friend, who stared at you with wide eyes. “Be ready to call an ambulance for him.”

“I’M LEAVING!” Wooyoung yelled out, rushing out of the room, before you could even push yourself from the doorframe. “REMEMBER THE EXPLANATION THOUGH!”

“Yah!” You turned around, ready to smack him but the door fell already shut.

“Woo is right though”, Yeosang mumbled, grabbing your attention once more, “you haven’t explained the tickets at all.”

You sighed tiredly and walked over to the couch, plopping down on it and patting the cushion next to you. Your eyes immediately found the opened envelope lying on the couch table, the two tickets on top of it. “I do have an explanation but tell me first why’d you need one.”

As Yeosang sat down next to you, you turned around to look at him, imploring his features as if they’d be able to give you an answer already. He avoided eye contact, his gaze jumping all over the place. “I might be jealous.”

It took everything within you not to coo at him and the adorable pout on his lips. “Have you even looked at the tickets more closely?”

“What do you mean?” Yeosang frowned again, feeling a slight tinge of irritation again as you continued to avoid explaining yourself. 

“I’m saying you might know my explanation if you look at the tickets properly.”

Yeosang leaned forward and grabbed one of the tickets, twisting and turning it between his fingers. “I don’t get it.”

This time you couldn’t help yourself but to coo and scoot over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. “It’s your favourite band. I wanted them to be a surprise gift for you but I guess your bestie ruined the surprise.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened and his head turned almost mechanically towards you. “For me?”

You nodded before leaning your head on his shoulder. “It’s been quite a while since we had a date night and I thought this might be something you’d really enjoy. As long as that green-eyed monster only makes an appearance through coloured contact lenses.”

Yeosang chuckled in embarrassment, hiding half of his face behind his hand. He placed the ticket back down on the table before he turned on the cushion and wrapped his larger form around you. “I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions and said some really stupid things.”

You nodded, rubbing softly over his back with your hand. “Yeah, you did. And I still intend on making you pay for that.” You snickered upon hearing his low whine. “Which means no cumming unless I tell you to.”

“Fuck”, Yeosang exhaled shakily, feeling himself twitch already at the thought alone.

You snickered again and leaned back. “Impatient, aren’t we?” You raised an eyebrow, smirking at Yeosang,  who nodded shyly. “Well, I can’t wait to torture you the rest of the night”, you teased him, pecking his lips shortly, “so get ready in the bedroom while I wash up.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, eager to follow your commands and hoping to redeem himself after being so openly stupid. 

Maybe after tonight he’d learn how to control his jealousy.

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin

[ghostlyaerobics1984]

Several times You Were Suspected, and the One Time You Weren’t. (SCREAM VI SPOILERS)

Summary: Reader is a newbie in the core-four friend group and according to the rules, they are a suspect. Reader keeps conveniently showing up at the murder scenes, and a seed of doubt becomes implanted in the others’ minds leaving them to believe Reader is Ghostface. Reader is innocent, but they don’t know that.

Word Count: 8,511

Pairings: Gn!Reader x Tara, Male!Reader x Tara

Author’s note: The reader is male since there is a SIGNIFICANT lack of male reader fanfics, but could be read as gender neutral if you try hard enough. Slight proofread because I got lazy.

You rushed over to Sam’s apartment as soon as you could. Slamming the SUV door shut, you jogged over to the ambulance where you were met with the distressed faces of Chad, Mindy, Tara, and Sam.

“What the fuck?” You shoot a glance at Ethan, catching the end of his excuse for an alibi. He appeared to be flustered.

“I saw it on the news.” There was genuine concern in your voice. “I can’t believe this happened.” Your eyes began to water because you had been close with Quinn and it hurt knowing she was gone. Forever.

You didn’t miss the way the four survivors from Woodsboro exchanged skeptical looks with each other and refused to initiate a conversation with you.

You were taken aback. Their suspicion was fair, but it hurt to be looked at that way. Like you were capable of killing them in cold blood. “Y-You don’t think I did this?”

In an attempt to clear your name, you said, “I loved Quinn. She was my best friend. Why the fuck would I kill her? Or kill Anika?”

You stopped yourself, at the risk of sounding hysterical.

“Doesn’t matter if you were best friends.” Mindy replied, very clearly glaring at you. “That still gives you motive. Maybe you were spurred on by jealousy.”

You scoffed and silently pleaded for the others to back you up. No one did. 

Ethan shuffled awkwardly. Chad and Tara refused to meet your gaze, and Sam was staring at you in a way you’d never seen before.

“Speaking of motive, where were you last night?” Mindy asked with narrowed eyes.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you.

You stuttered nervously. “I was in the dorm. You know, where I’m living.” 

The last part came out meaner than you initially intended.

“Hmm,” Mindy shook her head, pressing her lips together. Her eyes scanned around the ambulance from where she sat, then they were on you again. “How convenient, y/n. That you were at the college dorm when none of us were there to corroborate your alibi. You just moved at the top of my suspect list.”

You wanted to be angry, but you found yourself understanding why they were reacting this way.

Least you could do was divert some of the attention away from you. “Fair enough, but I don’t think you should rule out Ethan, either.”

Ethan faced you sharply, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Why would you say that?!”

“I mean, a school excuse? Really? It’s almost the same as mine.” You retorted, resisting the urge to snicker at his slowly reddening face.

“I was taking the—!”

“We’re not ruling anyone out.” Sam interjected, her voice determined. “Y/n’s right, I don’t think it’s smart to point the finger at one person. Even if they are highly suspicious.” 

You chose to ignore her patronizing tone. “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“Just stay the fuck away from us.” Chad held his hand up as if signaling for a stop. Then he added, “Both of you.”

“Wait,” You said desperately, taking a small step forward. “Is there a way I can prove myself? Please. I mean, haven’t you been wrong about your theories, Mindy?”

Everyone went silent. 

That couldn’t be a good indication for you. You held your breath, expecting to hear a pin drop.

“Yeah.” Mindy whispered under her breath quietly. You almost missed it, too.

“Yes, as in, I can prove myself?” You pressed on, hopeful.

“No.” Your heart sank. “Yes, as in, I was wrong at pointing out the killer before.”

“Well, at least y/n is wanting to clear their name.” Tara finally spoke after letting her friends do the talking without her. “Same can’t be said for the other present suspect.” A jab at Ethan.

Ethan struggled to argue his case, which you couldn’t help but smile at. Maybe you would be able to gain your friends’ trust back after all.

“I think we should give him a chance.” You caught Tara gazing at you. A slight smile teased her lips.

Was she on your side? Or not? You weren’t sure.

Chad gave her a questioning look. They stared at each other for so long, you began to wonder if something was going on between them.

“Alright, fine.” Chad relented. He threw his head back dramatically and sighed.

After witnessing Tara punch the famous, annoying reporter Gale Weathers, you were all led to a creepy area she had found through “Investigative journalism”.

And by all, was you, Ethan, Quinn’s cop dad, Sam, Tara, Kirby, and Gale.

“Jesus.” You managed to speak past your shock while traipsing and observing the displays that contained collectives from every ghostface killing.

Tara was walking ahead of you at a slow pace. She was assigned to watch you, and Chad was in charge of Ethan. So you weren’t allowed to stray away from her or the group. 

Fine by you, because you weren’t the killer, or one of the killers. You learned from Mindy that there could be multiple. 

You noticed Tara staring at a particular display. Her fingers traced the glass carefully. 

You could tell from the way her fingers traced the display for too long that seeing all of this was causing her emotional distress.

You noticed a picture of a girl. Amber, you think. Tara must have suffered through so much because of her.

“Hey…” You said softly, bumping your shoulder against hers in a lighthearted manner and catching her attention.

“So, you and Chad?” You leaned on the display, your stomach pressed against the glass. “Are you guys a thing or…” 

You trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blanks for you.

“We aren’t.” She answered a little too fast, but didn’t give anything more than that.

You let out a puff of air, feeling disappointed. You wished her response was convincing enough.

It was obvious that you were bummed and she regarded you with amusement. “Why do you care?”

“Because I like you.” The confession spilled easily from your mouth. “No bullshit. I really like you, Tara.”

You were scared to see her expression because you knew that it could end in rejection. Especially a beautiful girl like Tara, she probably had lots of men and women that were lined up to date her.

You were attracted to her attitude and her pretend carefree behavior, which she used as a coping mechanism due to traumatic events.

The dangers from her past and what was happening in the present didn’t deter you. You wanted her in spite of the fact that she was a victim of murderous attacks.

She deserved to be loved and treated respectfully.

But since you were currently the most suspected out of the group… you didn’t stand a chance.

“For the record,” Tara started off; You prepared for your feelings to be crushed. “I believe you.” 

That got you turning your head to face her. Tara wasn’t pitying you, or angry. Her reaction wasn’t at all like you had expected. She was being calm.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do?” 

“About you being in love, not the serial killer part.” She had a halfhearted grin on her face. 

Tara was teasing you. Well, you were 90% sure she wasn’t serious about the murderer accusation.

You decided to play along.

You leaned in closer to her, dropping your voice to a low whisper as you spoke in her ear. “Doesn’t that excite you? A potential psychotic killer only having the hots for you?”

You trailed your fingers up her arm for effect. You didn’t miss the shift in her eyes. 

How they became half-lidded and how they definitely weren’t directed at your eyes anymore, but at your lips.

The energy surrounding the two of you seemed to change also. It became static and… very warm.

Your cheeks were starting to feel hot. 

Tara shuffled closer to you, and you followed. The both of you waited on the other to make a move.

You swallowed nervously; Tara let her eyes fall to watch your throat bob. 

When she didn’t change her mind or make the choice to walk away, you swiftly closed the gap and connected your lips with hers.

You anticipated that Tara would eventually push away from you and laugh because this interaction between the two of you was an elaborate prank all along.

She didn’t. You weren’t being duped.

Tara Carpenter was kissing you and her lips were so, so soft.

You had absentmindedly placed your hands on her hips and pressed her front against yours, while simultaneously slipping your tongue in her mouth.

You heard Tara try to stifle her gasp, and fail at doing so. 

You had to stop yourself from smiling into the kiss because you didn’t want the moment to end too soon.

You were warm and tingly all over; your heartbeat thrummed against your chest. You were getting wrapped up in the excitement of the moment.

Just as you dreaded, it was cut short. You were startled by a strong arm gripping your shoulder.

Tara looked up, in a daze, when you were suddenly jerked away from her. She wore a confused expression on her face.

“Keep your dirty hands off her, Ghostface.” Chad jabbed a threatening finger in your chest.

He got into your face, and it was very jarring. You were genuinely scared for your well-being, and your life-long streak of no broken bones.

Like a hungry snake preying on an unsuspecting mouse, his hands latched onto your throat. The force of his grip had you raised a few inches from the ground. “What are you planning?”

“Chad, stop.” Tara protested, annoyed.

“Put y/n down.” Mindy groaned. “Seriously, this is not the time for your alpha complex.”

He wasn’t squeezing tight enough to strangle you, but it was still uncomfortable to breathe. 

Your eyes were wide in fear. Chad didn’t let you go. 

You weren’t earning any sympathy points from him, especially since you most likely took the woman he’s had eyes for.

“Okay, put them down right now. Or I shoot.” Kirby deadpanned. “I’m not kidding.”

This is it. You were going to die at the hands of a condescending jock. Not the ending you thought would ever happen, but what could you do?

You drew in a shallow breath and let your eyes flutter close. Something felt heavy in your pocket. Without alarming Chad, you sneaked your hand inside to figure out what the object was.

Your fingers grazed the hilt of a knife, your chest tightening when you realized what it was. You needed to keep your breathing under control, even while Chad had his hands around your throat, or you would give your predicament away and be in tremendous trouble with the group.

You didn't have a knife on you before you entered the abandoned shrine building, so who pinned it on you? And without anyone catching them?

The longer you stressed about the knife and the longer Chad was proving to be a hostile threat, the more you considered stabbing him.

You gaped in horror as the thought crossed your mind. You were just stressed out, that's all. Not a reason to impulsively lash out.

But he was threatening your life...

You were sure Chad's pissed-off face would be forever implanted in your memory when Kirby called out, "Alright, I'm counting to three!"

Chad dropped you before she could reach number three. You thankfully hit the floor on both feet, but being the asshole, Chad shoved you with brute force and knocked you off balance.

You were sent tumbling backward over a display, letting out a yelp as your head slammed against a wall.

"Oh my fucking god." That was either Mindy or Sam.

You couldn't tell black from blue; Your head swam and you were pretty sure you weren't imagining the warm liquid trickling down the back of your neck.

A dark shadow rose above you. You craned your neck up to see everyone in the group staring down at you with worry. Minus Chad because he obviously wasn't sorry.

"Shit." Tara crouched down in front of you. "Come on. I'll help you walk out of here." She extended her hand.

You blinked blearily and grabbed her hand. You fought back a wave of nausea as you were pulled up to your feet. Tara intertwined her fingers with yours, which put a smile on your face.

The two of you started to walk in sync.

Someone slung an arm around your shoulder. Mindy.

"To show you my condolences for the actions of my idiot brother," Mindy declared aloud so everyone could hear. "You have officially been moved down my suspect list."

"I appreciate it." You offered a weak grin, and she returned it.

"What do we do next?" Tara asked after approaching Kirby with you in tow.

Kirby's eyes seemed to glint with mischievous intent. "I have something in mind."

You needed to get rid of that knife as soon as possible.

"Distracting the killer on a phone call while tracing him from a van?" Mindy sighed in disbelief. "In a public space with a crowd of people?"

No one dared to interrupt her rambling; Kirby was working on a computer, Ethan worked on a bag of chips, and Chad was laying back.

"This is exactly how our uncle Randy died in the sequel!"

"Just relax." Kirby tried to assuage her. "I know what I'm doing."

"The killer is going to conveniently hang up right before you can trace his location," Mindy smirked, dissing Kirby's police skills.

"I can complete a trace in 15 seconds," Kirby replied with as much sass.

Mindy's face turned serious. "Oh, carry on."

Tara and Sam were being used as bait to keep the killer occupied on the phone call.

"Trying to lure me to a public area with a bunch of cops watching?" Ghostface laughed eerily while Sam listened on the other end. Tara stuck by her side. "I've seen this before and I'm one step ahead of you."

"Wait, where is that pinging?" Mindy asked, leaning over Kirby's shoulder to observe the map on the screen. There was a pulsing dot pinpointing Ghostface's current location.

"That's..." She recoiled.

"Gale!"

You took a taxi from the hospital to Gale Weather's apartment. One quick google search, and it was easy to find out where she lived.

Your injury had been stitched up; a white gauge was wrapped around your head. You weren't technically dismissed from the hospital, but you had a terrible feeling in your gut that Gale was in danger.

You assumed everyone else remained in a group since you last saw them, but you didn't know if anyone was looking out for Gale.

You rushed your ass into the elevator of her building and jabbed your thumb into the button to go to the top floor. "Come on, come on."

The elevator seemed to move at an infuriatingly slow pace, which didn't help your nerves. You paced around as the elevator kept rising. "What if I'm too late?" You mumbled to yourself.

You didn't have time to dwell on your anxiety because the elevator doors were opening, and you darted the hell out of there.

"Gale!" You screamed at the top of your lungs while running through the hall. You caught a glimpse of open doors and sounds of struggle followed from inside.

Heart beating heavily in your chest, you turned into the room without slowing down. You soon stopped when you took in the sight of the destroyed room, and the masked figure barreling your way.

A shrill shriek escaped from your lips as you tried to dodge. Ghostface's knife slashed your cheek as you did so. You fell on your side, groaning.

The masked killer fled into the hallway and disappeared; you weren't being targeted. Yet.

You sat up once you heard soft groans that didn't belong to you. Your eyes searched the room frantically until you spotted the person you came to save.

Gale was lying on the floor; blood was slowly seeping from under her body.

"Oh fuck." You crawled to her. Gale's choked gasps were audible now that you were near her.

You observed her stab wounds with watery eyes. "Gale... I'm so sorry.”

It seemed like she was trying to smile, as if she was at peace with dying, and you were worried that she was straining herself.

"You're going to be okay-" You reached to put pressure on a gushing shoulder wound, but someone yelling out Gale's name made you pull back.

Oh no.

You swallowed thickly and stood up just as Sam and Tara ran into the room.

They were shocked to see you. It didn't take long for Sam to grow angry with you. "You stay the fuck away from her."

It was only then that you realized your clothes became stained with Gale's blood. "I didn't do this! I collided with the killer when I ran in to save her."

"How did you know where she lived?" Great, now Tara was suspecting you were the killer. She was purposefully keeping her distance.

"I was in the hospital room when I missed a call from Gale's number. It was weird. Gale Weathers would never call someone like me. I had a feeling something was wrong and looked up her address on google."

Tara gave you a once over. You could see her face relax.

She still trusted you.

Sam was the opposite. “I don’t believe you. Don’t even think about coming near my fucking sister either.”

With that being said, her attention shifted to the woman dying on the floor. Or as Mindy would put it, the “Legacy character.”

“Oh my god, Gale.” Sam knelt down next to her body, on the verge of crying. Tara lingered behind her.

“I called the cops when I got here.” You said, hoping to dig yourself out of the hole you found yourself in.

“If you’re trying to make yourself seem innocent, it’s not working.” Sam replied coldly.

Well, damn.

Tara turned her head to give you a sorrowful glance, mouthing a silent apology.

You gave her a curt nod. The fact that Tara believed you was all the reassurance you needed. “You know what, I’m fucking tired of taking the blame for this fucked up shit.”

You were careful to not say anything that would incriminate you by accident. You were storming out before you could hear Sam’s reply.

There was no point in holding your tongue because you found yourself in the hot seat at the police station anyway.

“Why don’t you give me a rundown of your story again?” Detective Bailey looked tired. “Maybe you missed important details.”

You scoffed; your arms were crossed, and you leaned back in a chair. “You’re hoping that I’ll trip up and change my story.”

He clenched his jaw, held eye contact with you, then sighed in defeat. “You happened to arrive at Gale Weathers’s apartment moments after she was stabbed… I think it’s fair for me to be skeptical about coincidences.”

“I told you already. I missed a call from Gale’s number when I was getting stitches on my head at the hospital.” You pulled out your phone, tapped on it, then showed the screen to him.

In the notifications bar of your phone, there was a missed call alert from a number you didn’t have saved. Under the number was a smaller text that read, “Maybe: Gale Weathers”

Detective Bailey skimmed through the notification multiple times, but it wasn’t photoshopped. You were telling the truth.

“Alright.” He motioned for you to put the phone away, and you did.

You thought the interrogation was going to be over soon, but then Detective Bailey reached around and pulled out an object concealed in a plastic bag.

He dropped it on the table. You saw what it was at first glance and immediately felt like you had seen a ghost.

“Want to explain what you were doing with this weapon?” He was smug now.

You thought you got rid of that knife.

“An eyewitness saw someone, fitting your description, discarding this knife in the hospital trash.”

When you remained silent, he leaned forward and continued to interrogate you, “Who are you working with?”

You shook your head, not removing your gaze from the knife. “Test the blood.”

Detective Bailey seemed taken aback. “What?”

You made eye contact with him. Your face was deadpan. “I never used that knife. The blood is from old victims of past Ghostface killings. I’m telling you, detective, someone is trying to frame me.”

He set his jaw, and you could sense the gears in his brain turning as he mulled over your suggestion.

Without a word, he stood up, snatched the evidence with a force that made you flinch, and left the room.

Just as you said, the blood on that knife didn’t belong to Quinn or Anika.

“What do you mean you’re letting y/n go?”

You could hear Sam and Detective Bailey conversing from the other side of the door.

“I ran the knife through blood testing and there was no match to any of the current victims.” Bailey explained. “He’s clean.”

The door opened. You were able to see that Sam looked grim, and Detective Bailey was disappointed.

He beckoned for you to come out, and you did without hesitation, snubbing Sam on your way out.

“Meeting at the hospital. In lobby.” You reread the text message from Tara as you walked into the hospital building.

You spotted the group in a corner. You braced yourself and strutted over to them.

Their heads snapped up upon your arrival. As expected, you were greeted with a chorus of complaints.

“Why are you here?” Chad took on an intimidating stance, possibly to scare you.

”I invited him.” Tara admitted. Some of their scrutiny was then focused on her.

“Tara—“ Sam scolded.

“What?” Tara cut her off, tone becoming defensive. “Your hot neighbor and Ethan are allowed to hear the discussion, but y/n gets the cold shoulder? How is that fair?”

They didn’t argue with her any further.

You gauged everyone’s grim expressions. “What’s going on?”

“We’re gonna trap Ghostface.” It was Tara who answered you. She had her phone out. “Then kill him.”

You and Tara had to use the bathroom.

But not really.

Needless to say, she was happy you were proven innocent.

Your hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises as she was pushed up the wall.

You feverishly kissed the span of her neck and positioned your knee between her legs to keep her upright.

Tara had her arms wrapped around your neck; her nails leaving scratches. Breathless moans slipped out of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You whispered in the crook of her neck, your arousal growing.

You sensually grinded your front against hers, using the friction to relieve some of the pressure in your pants.

Tara laughed softly. She trailed her hands to your shoulders and lightly pushed back from you so that she could see your face. “Slow your roll, babe. We’ll both be alive to have sex later.”

”You don’t know that.” You whined, going back to kiss at her neck.

“I’m serious, y/n. I don’t want our first time to be in a hospital closet. I don’t care if death is looming over us.” You stopped grinding and looked up to see a frown on her face.

“No, you’re right.” You slumped against her, sighing heavily. “I am afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to be this close to you again.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I keep telling my stalker sister to let me go. I can fucking handle myself.”

“She cares about you.” You mumbled into her shoulder. “Plus, telling someone to let you go while we’re in a real life scary movie is kind of ominous.”

Your tone was lighthearted, but you meant what you said. You couldn’t help feeling worried about Tara‘s choice of words.

If the time came to it where her sister or you were in danger, would she put herself at risk of being murdered instead of saving herself?

You would rather that not happen.

Sensing your discomfort, Tara’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “You’re coming with us, okay? We won’t be separated.”

The sick feeling in your stomach wasn’t going away, but you relaxed anyway. You wanted to be at the final showdown in case the plan went wrong.

Tara raised a brow, holding back a laugh. “Can you let me go? Sam is probably losing her shit right now.”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, I’m sorry.” You had forgotten why you were here in the first place. You let her down with caution.

Tara poked fun at your freaked out expression while you tried to erase any sign of sexual tension on you.

The two of you hurriedly moved out of the enclosed space as best you could without creating suspicion.

“There’s only one way in through these doors. When we trap him in here,” Kirby shook the gates forming a box in front of the creepy shrine entrance, which required a key card to be unlocked. “Bastard has nowhere to go.”

This place gave you the chills. You couldn’t believe you voluntarily agreed to come back. It was asking to be murdered.

Mindy was too late for the final showdown. She had to take a separate train with Ethan, and Sam hadn’t heard back from them since.

It showed on Sam’s face that she was as skeptical as you about the solidity of the plan, but it wasn’t your trauma that was displayed all over the theatre.

Her fear was more justified.

”Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” Kirby tried to soothe everyone’s anxiety.

But all of you listened to Mindy’s lectures about horror rules enough times to know that the place definitely wasn’t safe if someone had to vouch for it.

”Come on, let’s go.” Tara tugged on your arm, leading you the back room of the theater.

You tore your attention away from the Ghostface mannequins and followed her.

“I’m coming with.” Chad walked behind you to make damn sure you weren’t going to hurt Tara.

You and Tara were conversing by a table set up with cups and old, soft drinks that were left behind long ago.

Chad was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, supervising both of you.

“So…” Tara smiled, her eyes downcast as she fiddled with a cup.

She was being shy.

Your arm rested on the table and you leaned forward in interest, a sly smile on your face.

“I was thinking when we—”

The way she fluttered her eyelashes at you, and smiled so big that her dimples showed, had you thinking about how breathtaking she was.

And how lucky you were to have her attention like this.

You acted impulsively and dived in for a kiss, cutting off whatever she was going to say next.

You could feel her smiling, her lips melded perfectly with yours. You heard Chad yell, “Watch out!”

Just when you thought things were going smoothly, you were startled by Ghostface appearing behind Tara with a knife raised.

You were stuck in slow motion, watching in abject terror as Ghostface stabbed Tara in the back.

Tara nearly keeled over. “Fuck!”

“Guys, go now!” You shoved Tara towards Chad and delivered a punch to the masked killer’s face.

“You‘re getting what’s coming to you, you fucker!”

The murderer stumbled backwards momentarily, but then they stopped and tilted their head in a silent challenge.

Your blood ran cold. You knew what horror scene reenactment was coming up next.

You took off at the same time Ghostface lunged at you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You had never been so fucking scared for your life until now. When a murderer skilled in stealth and agility was chasing after you.

You ran in the direction you hoped Tara and Chad took. But maybe it would’ve been wise to lead the killer away from them.

You weren’t brave enough to do that alone.

The killer’s running footsteps completely deceased when you turned a corner into another room where you were met with the scared faces of Tara and Chad.

“Y/n!” Tara went to hug you, but Chad held her back.

“Wait. How do we know they aren’t one of the killers?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and clenched your jaw. “I would never agree to hurting, or remotely stabbing any of you!”

Tears were building up in your eyes and Tara observed you with the same glossy look.

“Alright, say I believe you—”

Chad was speaking, but something moving behind him caught your attention.

You didn’t waste any time to warn him, screaming at the top of your lungs. “Chad!”

Tara spun around and upon seeing Ghostface, she made the smart decision to walk backward towards you.

Then, the worst thing imaginable happened. A second Ghostface approached him.

Tara began to cry, panic rose in her voice as she bumped into you. “No, not Chad. No, please.”

You saw someone rush in out of your peripheral vision and jumped apprehensively.

It was Sam. Thank god.

Despite your disagreements, you were glad she was okay.

However, your relief was short lived. You witnessed the two Ghostfaces rip into Chad’s flesh with their knives. They kept gutting him, over and over.

Your mouth dropped at how brutal they were going at him. You could never imagine stabbing your worst enemy like that; it was fucking evil.

Tara was full on sobbing now, and you had to hold her back from doing something reckless.

Chad gurgled on his blood. “Run. Leave me and run.”

You winced at the squelching noise that emitted every time he was stabbed.

“We gotta go.” Sam said sternly.

She grabbed Tara’s hand, who hadn’t stopped begging for them to stop killing Chad, and dragged her the hell out of there. You were right on their tail.

The three of you ended up back in the main room with the creepy shrines.

“Uh, why is it just the three of us?” You surveyed the room nervously. “Where’s Kirby?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I got a phone call from Bailey. Apparently she’s not mentally stable and she’s not officially FBI, either.” Sam answered. She kept a protective arm around her sister.

“What? That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed while frowning. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah.” Tara’s voice was weak. “It doesn’t.”

You stared at Tara empathetically. “You guys are the core four,” You quoted Chad’s name for the OG Woodsboro group. “You’ll survive.”

Tara turned her head to look your way. Softly adding, “You’ll survive too.”

You weren’t too sure about that.

All of you were caught off guard by a loud clanging sound. You turned around to see Detective Bailey making his entrance into the theater with his gun lowered.

“Everyone alright?” The old man asked. “Where’s Kirby?”

“I-I don’t know.” Sam stammered.

“They knocked me out!” You whirled around in surprise as Kirby stumbled into the room.

Judging by the glaring bruise and laceration on her head, she was telling the truth.

But detective Bailey didn’t share the same sentiment. He was alarmed by her presence and raised his gun. “Stand down, Kirby!”

“What? I’m not the killer!” She shouted.

You really felt bad for Kirby; You knew what it has been like to be falsely accused.

You didn’t want to interrupt, lest you get caught up in the middle of a screaming match between two cops.

You witnessed her eyes gradually widen in fear, and she pointed frantically. “Behind you!”

Shots were fired and they hit Kirby. The wrong person. You were frozen to the spot as she dropped to the floor, your body trembled in fear.

You slowly faced Detective Bailey. Betrayal was written all over his smug face. The beaten up Ghostface mask stood next to him.

“No effing way.” You voiced aloud.

You heard boots clicking against tile and immediately tensed at the sight of the other Ghostface flanking the three of you from the side.

And they stopped right in front of you.

“Shit.” You whimpered. Your palms were becoming cold and clammy from nerves.

The killer shifted their feet and retreated away from you, standing menacingly next to old man Bailey.

“Sam Carpenter. I’ve been waiting for this.”

You didn’t know who this Detective was anymore. You were mad at yourself for not considering him as a suspect, but you’ve been too busy fighting to clear your name.

“You’re family.” Sam stated it as a fact.

You became more confused.

“You killed my son.” The detective’s eyes flared with rage. “I brought the family together to make you pay.”

The Ghostface on the right took off their mask to reveal…

Ethan. Of course, it was fucking Ethan.

You snorted. “I fucking called it. Your pathetic virgin act wasn’t fooling me.”

Except you didn’t predict they were all related to Sam’s ex-boyfriend, who was a vicious psychopath.

He glared at you with murderous intent that basically meant your fate was sealed. “It wasn’t an act.”

You pissed him off.

Good.

Anything to stop them from lashing out on Tara and her sister.

“Aw, really?” You pretended to pity him, sarcasm dripped from your tone. “I wonder why no one will fuck you.”

“You couldn’t handle me, asshole.” He pointed his knife at you. A sardonic laugh escaped from his mouth, “I actually wanted to fillet you. Not Chad.”

That made you shut up.

“But fuck, it felt good to kill him!” He confessed gleefully.

“I hate you.” Tara ground out.

You gripped her shoulder in a sense of protection and comfort.

“So, Mindy?” Sam fixed her eyes on the Ghostface that still had their mask on.

This particular reveal had your blood boiling.

It was none other than the Detective’s daughter, Quinn Bailey.

“I took the blame for your murder and you weren’t even fucking dead?”

You couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

Quinn pouted mockingly. “I’m sorry. It was just so easy to pin it on you and we didn’t even have to orchestrate it. Crazy how anyone can’t be alone by themselves anymore without raising red flags.”

“I am so gonna fuck you up!” You threatened.

She gave you a condescending smile. “For an expendable character… you sure are brave.”

“Y/n is our scapegoat.” Her father was starting his monologue. “We needed someone to pin the killings on and what’s more perfect than my daughter’s best friend, who doesn’t even have the full trust of their own friends?”

“A little fake blood goes a long way.” Quinn said.

“All I had to do was be the first on the scene to swap out the body. Lay down a few prosthetics.”

You connected the dots. The air was suckered out of you as you fully realized the extent of their betrayal. “You’re the one who pinned the knife on me.”

There was no warmth in Detective Bailey’s smile. “It was actually Ethan’s idea.”

Ethan mirrored his father’s smile. “Everyone was extra suspicious of you, and neglected to keep an eye on me. It was surprisingly easy to go undetected.”

“I was the one who called you from Gale’s phone.” Quinn confessed. She wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

“It would’ve worked, too.” Old man Bailey sneered. “We just didn’t account for the younger Carpenter sister having feelings for you.”

Ethan and Quinn began to go separate ways toward the three of you.

Tara was shaking. You squeezed her shoulder tight.

“Lucky me, huh?” You said dryly to the corrupt detective. “I’m capable of love. Which is more than what could be said for you sorry fucks.”

Quinn lurked right of Sam, behind the displays. Ethan stopped behind you.

You could feel the tip of a knife pressing into your back.

You weren’t sure who was shaking more at this point, you or Tara.

Something began to play on the screen behind you. You heard a man’s voice.

“Maybe I overindulged Richie’s love for these movies, but it was how we bonded.” Detective Bailey got a faraway look in his eyes.

“Gore and horror…” He shook his head. “Not my thing.”

“You hide it pretty well.” You pointed out like a smart ass.

You didn’t feel sympathetic for him at all; You only grew more angry. What kind of father discredits the victims of his son’s psychopathic behavior?

And Bailey blaming the Carpenter sisters for killing Richie in self defense because he was going to murder them for a stupid movie, that was twisted.

Dumb motives must run in the family.

You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

Detective Bailey turned his attention from Sam and onto you.

You were fucked. You knew that, but you didn’t see it coming this fast.

Detective Bailey raised his gun and didn’t hesitate to fire off a bullet into your shoulder.

You jerked at the force of the gunshot striking your body and stumbled backward, right where they wanted you.

Ethan’s knife entered into your flesh faster than you could scream.

Tara’s voice rung out, “Y/n!”

But she couldn’t move to reach you. Sam was protecting her and Quinn was in close proximity, taunting them with her knife.

Ethan slung an arm around your chest and pulled you closer to him. The knife wedged itself deeper in your back, and you cried.

“I got you and Chad.” He spoke into your ear as you gasped helplessly. “I win!”

Tara was crying with you. Her mascara running down her face.

There wasn’t much you could do to console her.

You were a wreck. Your face was perspiring and glistening with tears, and you were bleeding out.

You didn’t catch the rest of Bailey’s monologue because you kept zoning out, only hearing bits and pieces. “Until he was killed by you and your bitch of a sister!”

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled at Detective Bailey, and Quinn slashed her on the upper arm.

“Shut up, bitch!”

“Your son was a pencil dick who let his girlfriend do all the work.” Sam spat.

They weren’t listening to her. Detective Bailey glorified his son too much to believe the truth Sam was spewing.

“Tara, you ready?” Sam was now facing you. She must’ve been turned around when you weren’t paying attention.

Her eyes revealed that she had a plan up her sleeve. She was hiding something behind her back.

Tara whined in fear; she didn’t answer.

“I need you to be ready.” Sam emphasized calmly.

A beat of silence, then Tara’s voice came back firm. “I’m ready.”

“Y/n?” Sam was asking you the same question.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nodded.

Sam yelled out and hurled an object at Quinn. That was a signal.

You seized the opportunity to elbow Ethan in the ribs with all the strength you still had left, then you reared your head back. A loud cracking sound, and Ethan loosened his grip on you. You had shattered his nose.

With great regret, you reached behind you and pulled the knife out of your back. A pained groan slipped past your lips as you did so.

You just broke his nose and that bastard dared to smile at you.

You raised the knife over your head and charged at him while screaming.

All of the sudden, Quinn jumped out from nowhere and threw herself on you, efficiently throwing you off balance.

Both of you went tumbling into a display; the broken glass rained all around you.

"Fuck." You seethed, standing upright from where you had fallen. Your head was throbbing.

You were definitely bleeding through your bandage.

Quinn recovered as quickly as you did; She was standing across from you with her hair in a tangled mess and knife at her side.

"You were my best friend!" You hollered, gripping your knife tightly.

"Oh, get over it already!" She shouted back, then she rushed at you.

You crouched right when she reached you, grabbed her legs, and lifted her over your shoulder.

She thrashed around like a rabid animal, her feet kicking at nothing.

But the victory wasn't all yours.

Quinn managed to stab your shoulder blade before you body-slammed her onto the floor.

Her cries of agony were music to your ears.

You stood over her, breathing heavily. You contemplated how to make your revenge taste sweeter.

"Come on, Tara!"

Your attention was diverted to the Carpenter sisters trying to climb their way up a ladder.

Your worse nightmare was turning into reality.

You watched in paralyzing fear as the ladder gave out, and Tara didn't fall only because Sam caught her by the hand.

Your girlfriend dangled helplessly from the rafters, and a murderer was circling at her feet like a shark. Ethan was counting on her to fall so he could end her life.

No way in hell you were going to stand and let that happen.

"I'll be able to finally stick something in you, Tara!" Ethan called out.

You thought he was a depraved freak, but that was a creepy ass comment, even for him.

You took off running. All while keeping an eye on Tara and making sure you weren’t going to be too late to save her.

You dove and tackled Ethan away from Tara, moments before she could land in harm's way of his sharp blade.

"She's my girlfriend, asshole!" You delivered a punch to his face.

And man, it did feel good.

This part didn't.

A sick squelching sound came from your body as Ethan stabbed you in the stomach.

Twice.

Three times.

A fourth time.

And again. Over and over.

You stared into Ethan's soulless eyes, your mouth agape.

Blood was building up from your throat and into your mouth. Warmth was slowly abandoning your body, and you were frozen, wondering when it would stop. If he was going to stop.

His maniacal laughter echoed in your ears.

Now you realized exactly how Chad had felt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the fate of death to finally strike you. This is it. This was the end of the line for you.

At least Tara was safe. That's all you wanted.

But she would be losing you.

"Tara..." You gasped.

Ethan sharply twisted the knife in your stomach when you mentioned her name. You winced, letting out one last mournful cry.

You grasped at his arm, but the blood loss made you exponentially weak and incapable of causing significant damage to your assailant.

Your eyes flew open at the tearing of flesh, and you half expected to see your intestines on the floor.

Instead, Ethan was choking on a knife. Literally. He was stabbed through the roof of his mouth.

You lifted your head to see who saved you. Tara loomed over Ethan, with blood splatters all over her face, looking rightfully pissed off.

And hot.

Your eyes widened in awe at the beautiful woman before you. Something churned in your gut, and it wasn't because of your stab wounds.

You pushed your carnal fascination aside to analyze later. If you survived, that is.

Ethan gurgled, and your attention left Tara for a second so you could relish in his pained expression. It was his turn to plead like a little bitch.

You heard laughter, and it wasn't coming from Ethan. Tara's grin was indecipherable as she chuckled lowly and sheathed the knife further into his jaw.

A tiny voice of concern was in the back of your mind. Maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying this too much.

But you couldn't lie. It affected you: her heavy-lidded eyes, the snarl on her lips, and how she chose the most violent approach to save you.

There was a certain aura of possessiveness masquerading as rage behind her actions.

She let Ethan suffer for a little longer before ripping the knife out of his mouth.

Some of his blood landed on your face, and finally, he crumpled weakly to the floor. Somehow, you kept yourself from falling with him, but he had let go of the knife in your stomach shortly after he was stabbed by Tara.

You let your eyes trail up Tara's body until you reached her face, and your eyes met.

You swallowed nervously.

She gazed at you intensely with a dark look; The knife glistened with blood as it was raised.

Was there something about her past that you didn't know? Something that could snap and make her capable of killing you?

You didn't like having these thoughts about her. This was the girl you loved. And she was a victim, not the mastermind.

However, if her trauma went untreated...

Exhaling, Tara tossed the knife aside, and it clattered on the floor. She outstretched her hand, the softness you recognized returning to her eyes as she regarded you with concern. "Can you stand?"

You pressed your hand tenderly against your stomach to calm the bleeding from your wounds while avoiding the knife Ethan left in you. One slight movement had numerous shocks of pain shooting up your spine.

Biting your lip, your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at her and shook your head.

Realization crossed her features, her expression growing pitiful.

A gunshot ran out from the rafters. Sam's voice was barely audible. Since you didn't have a confrontation with Detective Bailey, you assumed he was the last one standing and that Sam was the one confronting him.

"Come on."

Before you could protest, Tara stepped around Ethan's body, slung your arm over her shoulder, and wrapped her arm around your waist.

"Wait-" You drew in a sharp breath as you were forced upright; your wounds were stretched, making them ache and burn. "Shit."

Tara grunted. She tried her best to carry you while you were propped up against her, but she was having trouble walking.

"You're limping." You stated. You felt guilty for weighing her down like this. "Tara..."

"Don't." She snapped; her breathing was shortened. "If you think I'm dropping you. Think again because I'm not."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Sam screaming made both of you look up.

Your eyes widened in horror at Sam's falling body. She wasn't the only one thrown over the rafters; Detective Bailey was too.

You and Tara flinched as Sam and the detective landed in a memorial of the Ghostface killings and destroyed it.

Glass spilled out onto the floor.

You looked over at Tara. She was flabbergasted and open-mouthed, staring at her sister's unconscious body resting on broken shards of glass and other materials.

She didn't move, but you knew she needed to check on her sister. In the end, the only family they had was each other.

Tara might've had a friend group and you, but Sam didn't let anyone in because of her fucked up father's history and her psycho ex-boyfriend. That's why she was so protective of her younger sister.

Tara was all she had.

It took some time, but after Tara had convinced you that it would be easier for her to help Sam after she knew you were safe, she carried you into one of the backrooms.

Not the room where Chad... neither of you could stomach that.

She helped maneuver you into a sitting position on the floor. You sighed in relief when your back rested on a wall.

She placed her hand on the wall and crouched to your eye level. "I'm going to see if Sam is okay. It shouldn't take long, alright? I've called an ambulance, so they should get here soon. You're going to be fine."

You smiled weakly. She was being sweet and more careful than usual because you were bleeding out and dying, but regardless, she made you forget how much pain you were in.

She gave you a small smile in return and turned to leave.

You reached out and grasped her arm before she could go.

She stopped, looking at you curiously.

"I..." You could barely complete your sentence. "Love you."

She smiled wide this time, and her tired eyes seemed to shine from happiness. "Tell me later."

Then, Tara briskly walked out to save her sister. You were left alone, wondering if she would return to you safely.

“Y/n!”

The paramedics wheeled you on a stretcher out of the creepy Ghostface memorial slash abandoned theatre. It was now a huge murder scene.

You had an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth that helped you breathe.

You were so high on morphine and painkillers, and it was fucking great because you deserved that euphoric feeling after the events you just went through.

Tara jogged up to the stretcher. The paramedics stopped so she could chat with you.

“Hey.” You said tiredly, unable to change your facial expression because you were doped up. It felt awkward to smile.

But you were extremely happy to be alive with Tara.

“Hey stranger,” She was in a good enough mood for jokes, doing the smile that revealed her dimples. “Remember, when you told me you loved me?”

“Hmm?” You answered noncommittally.

“I knew it. You are so high.” Tara laughed.

She understood because she had been through Ghostface attacks before.

And she survived again.

This time, she had you.

“I am so high.” You agreed, smiling slightly behind the oxygen mask.

Tara tentatively lifted the mask off, and you look over at her, puzzled.

You were surprised when she tugged you in for a kiss. It was slow and tender with the perfect amount of desperation.

“We got another one here!”

You broke apart from the kiss at the same time Tara did. Both of you turned your heads and saw Chad being wheeled out the same way you were.

You were matching with him. He looked in pretty bad shape, the same as you.

He was parked beside you, and Tara immediately addressed the elephant in the room, ”How are you alive??”

You had the same reaction.

”Core four!” Chad’s yell was muffled. He pumped his fist in the air like an idiot.

Tara glanced at you with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Core five! For y/n.”

“That doesn’t rhyme, though.” Chad complained halfheartedly.

Sam walked up to the three of you with a smile.

She placed her hands on Tara’s shoulders and spoke directly to you. “Thank you for taking care of my sister and fighting alongside us. It was very brave.”

“Apology accepted for accusing me.” You smiled to show that you were joking.

“If we’re accepting apologies…” Your attention was focused on Mindy shyly walking towards you as if you were going to hurl something at her.

“After being stabbed 10 times, I’m over that. Trust me.” You said truthfully, then added in a more lighthearted tone, “But you’re forgiven.”

Mindy was visibly relieved, then she immediately changed topics. “I can’t believe I missed the monologue again!”

You nodded in agreement.

You would’ve loved to see Detective Bailey quivering in fear as he had his ass handed to him, but you knew Tara would tell you all the details later.

Poor Mindy, though. She missed the entire final act.

The oxygen mask was placed back on your face with care. Tara turned back to look at Sam. “Can we ride with y/n to the hospital?”

She was asking for permission.

Sam was caught off guard and torn between Tara’s hopeful tone. She thought about it for a moment, and conceded.

“If they’ll let us.” She said with a smile.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Hot- Jay Halstead, Matt Casey, and Kelly Severide

Summary: When you come down with a high fever, it’s up to your boys to help make it all better.

Warning: some language, EXTRA FLUFFY and EXTREMELY LENGTHY

Authors note: sorry it’s been a while guys. I’ve had two rounds of immunotherapy. Both times I had a reaction, which I’m still recovering from my latest infusion. I started writing this about a month ago when I came down with a high fever. Sorry it’s been a minute and I AM getting around to asks. Thank you all for the patience and the support. I love y’all!

—————————

You had been feeling kind of achy and tired for well over 24 hours. You insisted that you were fine and even brushed Jay off when he said you felt a little warmer than usual. Now, you wished you had listened to your boyfriend and stayed home with Matt and Kelly. Even though they are on shift now, you would at least be in your own bed.

“M’ fine. Jus’ need to lay ‘ere a bit.” You mumbled, laying with your face pressed against the back of the leather couch in the kitchenette. You had stumbled in here after leaving Jay to interrogate the latest suspect. You really weren’t ready to give in, but you knew you were about to have no choice.

“Y/l/n. You and I both know that’s bullshit.” Voight said, leaning on the table. “You either go with Halstead or go by ambulance. You and I both know you have a high fever.” Voight pointed out, crossing his arms as he waited for a response. Similar to Erin, you became like a daughter to him, so he was not keen on letting you fry your brain just because you were stubborn.

You sighed, pressing your palms into your eye sockets to try and stop the burning. “With Jay.” You grumbled, returning your arms back around your body as you violently shivered.

Voight nodded, though you couldn’t see him. He waved Adam in as the officer walked by, not wanting to leave you. “Adam. Go get a washcloth from the locker room and wet it with cold water. After you bring that to me, go finish the interrogation for Halstead. Y/n needs to go home and she can’t drive like this.” Voight instructed, kneeling next to you to test your temp with the back of his hand. “And grab that blanket she keeps on the back of her chair. She’s shaking.”

“You got it sarge.” Adam said, running off to do as he was asked.

Once the wash cloth and blanket were dropped off, it took Jay less than 5 minutes to get to you. “I heard.” He said to Voight as soon as he stepped into the room. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks Sarge.” Jay said, crouching down next to you.

“No problem. Just take care of her and keep me updated.” Voight said, patting Jay on the shoulder before he walked out of the break room.

Jay sighed, touching your forehead to check again for himself. He winced in sympathy as you leaned your burning forehead further into his touch with a whimper. “Shhhhh. I know. I’m gonna take you home.” Jay whispered, rubbing his thumb along the area between your eyes, knowing you get a headache there when you have a fever.

“Jay?” You whispered, shifting on the couch as you blinked sleepily up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah baby. Close your eyes. I’ll get our stuff together and take you home.” Jay soothed, moving the cloth that fell off the back of your neck to your forehead.

When the cold shocked your system and sent a shiver down your spine, you whimpered and reached for your boyfriend. “Hold me.” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes. You felt horrible and all you wanted were your boys and your bed.

Jay sighed and contemplated it. The look on your face had him caving in seconds. “Okay baby girl. Okay. Come on. Up you go.” Jay whispered, helping you sit up before picking you up with your arms wrapped around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. He cringed at the heat your face brought to his exposed neck, you having immediately shoved your face into the crook of it.

Kim saw the exchange and quickly walked in from her desk, draping the fallen washcloth over the back of your neck and tucking the blanket back around your shoulders. “Hailey has your stuff on your desk. We doubted she would make it down the steps without you carrying her. Voight said her fever is pretty high.” Kim said, rubbing your back through the fabric of your blanket and frowning at the heat you were putting off.

“Yeah. Do me a favor. Call Matt and Kelly. They should be at the station. I need them to pick up some supplies and meet me at the house.” Jay said, gently swaying with you as you whimpered.

“Sure thing. Whatcha need?” Kim asked, already pulling up her notes app.

“Thermometer, Motrin, Tylenol, Gatorade, her favorite popsicles, and some soup. Have them call Will to double check me.” Jay said, walking toward his desk as he spoke. “Thanks for all the help guys.”

Everyone waved him off, saying no problem or don’t sweat it. Comments offering more help or to call if you needed anything, along with well wishes to you, were said as Jay carefully walked down the steps to get to his truck. Once he had you in and buckled, Jay quickly rounded the truck and turned it on, turning off the high ac to set it at a middle temperature to try and keep the fever from rising, but not get you too hot or too cold.

Jay had barely pulled out of the station before his phone started ringing. Jay answered the phone from his steering wheel, not bothering to check the caller id as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Halstead.” Jay answered.

“Jay. What’s going on? Matt’s on the phone with Burgess and…” Kelly trailed off when he heard you whimpering. “Oh sweetheart.” Kelly murmured before whispering something to Matt.

“She’s got a high fever. I’ve never seen her this bad Sev. Kim is giving Matt a list of things we will probably need. Double check that with one of the medics or call Will and get it all before you come home. I’m gonna get her home and changed into something cooler and start working on getting this fever down.” Jay said, clutching the hand you gave him to hold, silently begging for the contact.

Kelly blew out a breath as he listened to Jay and then Matt. “Okay. Alright. We will run it by Brett. I gotta go tell Boden we are leaving. We will be home in less than an hour. I promise.” Kelly said before rustling could be heard and then Matt’s voice rang through.

“Jay. Is it bad?” Matt asked, sounding calm to your fever altered mind, but Jay could hear the concern.

“It’s not good. I couldn’t tell you her exact temp, but it’s really up there Matt.” Jay answered, glancing at you and squeezing your hand. He tried to relax some when you sluggishly squeezed back.

“Alright. Kim gave me the list, but Trudy is gonna contact a guy who owes her and get the supplies ready for us to grab on the way home. We will be there in half an hour tops.” Matt said, trying to sooth Jay knowing that you had to be in rough shape for Trudy to make the offer that she did.

“Okay. We will see you then.” Jay said, turning into your neighborhood.

“We love you. See you soon.” Matt said, hanging up before Jay could reply.

Jay sighed and carefully pulled in front of your town home. When he looked over, you had your eyes closed, but tiny tear tracks were shining on your face. “Baby.” Jay sighed, wiping your burning cheeks. You opened your eyes and sobbed, catching Jay off guard. “Hang tight. Shhhh. Hang on.” Jay soothed, climbing out of the truck and quickly coming to your side when he realized you needed him and you needed him right now.

As soon as Jay opened your door and unbuckled you, you flung yourself into his arms. He knew you got emotional when you were sick and feverish, but you have never sobbed like this when you were sick with a fever. Unless you were throwing up, being as that is the one thing you fear the most, you are normally just a little misty eyed. This was definitely different.

“Alright. I gotcha. I have you. Shhhhh.” Jay soothed, rubbing your back as he walked to the front door. Luckily, he was able to balance you and unlock the door. If anyone asked how he did it, he wouldn’t be able to tell them anything other than it being sheer will power. He was not going to set you down until he got you to the bedroom.

Once inside, Jay locked up and threw his keys on the entryway table before climbing the stairs to your shared bedroom. Gently, he sat you down and kissed your forehead before beginning to help you undress. You whimpered as the chill of the house hit your skin. Normally, the temperature of your house was a little warm when you first got home, but today it felt like an ice box.

“Jay.” You whispered, shaking as chills went through your body. “C-c-cold.” You whimpered, feeling like you weren’t getting enough air as you shook to the core.

Jay sighed and kissed your forehead. “I know baby. I know. Hang on. I gotta get you into just a tshirt. Your fever is very high.” Jay explained, rubbing your forearms to help you generate some heat.

“B-but ‘m s-so c-c-cold.” You groaned. “It h-hurts.” You whimpered, looping your arms around Jay’s waist, burying your face into his stomach.

“I know it hurts sweet girl. I’m so sorry. Matt and Kelly are gonna come home with some medicine and we will fix you right up.” Jay soothed, running his hand over the top of your head and scratching your scalp just the way you liked it.

Jay held you for several minutes, not keen on letting you go before you were ready. He breathed deeply and loudly, trying to help you guide your own breathing. You were hurting and trembling to your core, which was making your anxiety go through the roof.

Eventually, Jay pulled you off of him long enough to make eye contact with you. “Baby. Look at me.” Jay soothed, rubbing the tears from your face with his thumbs. Once you made eye contact, he started again. “We gotta get you out of these clothes. Matt and Kelly should be here any minute. We just gotta get you into a tshirt and then I’ll snuggle you until they get here. Okay?” Jay asked, searching your eyes as he spoke. He hated what he saw. Fear. Pain. Exhaustion. Vulnerability. You are hardly ever this vulnerable. Vulnerability is something you guys have been working on and Jay hates that your mind isn’t giving you a choice right now.

“Kay.” You whispered, sniffling and closing your eyes to try to stop the tears.

Jay cracked a small smile at your answer. “Okay. Let’s start here since I’m already down here. Mkay?” Jay said, stating it like a question, but he was really just warning you.

You nodded to show your understanding before Jay began removing your clothes. He carefully removed your shoes and socks, rubbing your feet slightly after they were removed. Your feet were boiling and Jay was surprised you weren’t more uncomfortable. After giving you a moment, Jay started unbuckling your belt.

“Do you think you can stand or do you need to lay down so that I can get your pants off?” Jay asked, massaging your hips with his thumbs as he spoke.

“Lay down. ‘M tired.” You mumbled, eyes still closed to try and keep the tears at bay. You knew that if you looked Jay in the eyes, you would lose it.

“Okay sweetheart. Lay down for me.” Jay said, standing to help lower your body to the bed with a hand to the back of your neck. Once you were down, Jay pulled off your pants and tossed them into the basket in the corner. Then, he pulled your favorite shirt over your head after he quickly removed your shirt and bra, which happened to be one of Kelly’s CFD shirts. Just as Jay slipped the shirt over your head, you both heard the door opening and shutting as your boys came in, plastic grocery bags crinkling as they whispered to one another.

Matt came running up the stairs with a bag in hand as Jay helped you get settled against the headboard. “Hey baby girl.” Matt cooed, climbing in the bed immediately since he had kicked off his boots downstairs.

“M-matty.” You whispered, opening your arms and making the same grabby hands for Matt as you did for Jay.

Matt easily scooped you up, letting you get comfortable in his lap. Or as comfortable as you could get. “Jesus.” Matt breathed as soon as your face hit the inside of his neck.

Jay nodded from his spot next to the bed. “Yep. Got the thermometer in there?” Jay asked, reaching for the bag that Matt had brought into the bedroom.

“Yeah. It’s an ear one. Put a cover on it before you stick it in her ear.” Matt explained, rocking you back and forth in his arms. “Now, what’s going on with my Princess, hmm?” Matt cooed, lightly running a hand up and down your back.

You sniffed, trying to hide your tears. “Jus’ hurts Matty. Everything hurts.” You mumbled in his neck, not wanting to move your face away from the comfort that Matt could provide.

“Okay baby. That’s okay.” Matt soothed, rubbing a hand through your hair. “Now, once Jay has it set up, he’s just gonna stick the thermometer in your ear, okay?” Matt explained, leaning back to look at you.

You nodded and waited. Once Jay had everything ready, you made sure to stay still so that you could get it over with. You didn’t miss the sharp exhale either of your boyfriends made at the reading.

“103.4” Jay read aloud, even though he was sure Matt saw the number.

Matt nodded before securing your head into his chest, covering your ears. “Kel! It’s 103.4!” Matt yelled to your other boyfriend downstairs.

A quiet “oh fuck” could be heard before footsteps raced up the stairs. “Oh baby. Hey Angel.” Kelly cooed, coming around to get a look at you.

As soon as Kelly came into view, you started sobbing again and threw yourself out of Matt’s arms and into Kelly’s. Kelly was quick to catch you as he looked between Matt and Jay.

“Sh Sh Sh. Hey Angel. It’s alright.” Kelly soothed, holding you tightly in his arms. “God. Your shaking.” Kelly muttered, burying his face into your hair as you buried your own into his neck.

“We gotta get that fever down.” Jay said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We brought Motrin and Tylenol like you asked. We should start with Motrin and get her into a lukewarm bath.” Matt said, standing and racing down the stairs.

“I’ll go get the bath started then.” Jay said, hating that you were this sick.

“Hey sweetheart. We are gonna make you all better, okay? Think you can take some medicine for me?” Kelly whispered, lightly rocking you to try and sooth your shaking form. He knew it had to hurt. You were strong and fiercely independent, so this had to be bad.

You nodded your head, not bothering to move from Kelly’s neck. You always found comfort in their arms, hiding your face in their neck. It was something you did when you were in need of comfort. With your face in their neck, you felt like you were safe.

Matt wasted no time in grabbing a Gatorade and your meds before running up the stairs. Kelly gently coaxed you from his neck long enough to get the meds in and for you to drink some before you were shoving your face right back into its hiding spot.

“Alright baby. Your bath is ready.” Jay said, coming up to you and Kelly as Matt placed the meds and leftover Gatorade onto the nightstand.

“Nah- uh.” You said, shaking your head. Your voice was muffled by Kelly neck, but they understood you perfectly.

Kelly tried his best to hide a chuckle at your childish behavior. Your little voice and the way you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck was just precious. Matt smirked and shook his head as he looked at Jay who looked torn. Jay didn’t want to move you if you were truly content, but your fever said otherwise. Given the reactions from your other two boyfriends, Jay know he was gonna have to be the bad cop (every pun intended).

“Yes ma’am. Come on now. We just gotta get that temp down some. It’ll make you feel better.” Jay tried to coax, taking the gentle approach first. He didn’t want to force you if he didn’t have to. When he got no response, Jay groaned and looked to his other lovers. “Come on guys. Give me a hand here.” Jay said, clearly aspirated.

Matt shook his head and held his hands up. He was NOT getting in the middle of this. He knew where this was going. He knew exactly how this was going to end.

Kelly sighed before he slowly pushed you away. “Let’s go baby. Faster we do this, faster we can cuddle.” Kelly tried to bribe you, but had to look to Jay when you immediately started sobbing.

“Okay. I know. Come on.” Jay said, taking you from Kelly. Though you knew what was coming, you immediately snuggled into Jay as his scent, always a comforting smell, invaded your senses. You whined and sobbed loudly as Jay effortlessly stripped you of your tshirt before placing you in the tub. He didn’t even bother with your panties, knowing you would probably attempt an escape as soon as your feet hit the floor. Sick or not, you were fast and Jay had learned it the hard way a few years ago.

Matt and Kelly came running in when they heard you get set into the water, immediately thrashing and trying to get out. Kelly quickly stripped to his boxers and climbed in with you, holding you to his chest.

“Shhhh. I know it seems cold. It’s just lukewarm. Your fever is really high princess. Shhhhh.” Kelly tried to soothe, wrapping both arms and legs around you.

“Relax Y/n. Breathe.” Matt cooed, scooting close to the bath tub. He took your face into his hands to try to catch your eyes. “Look. Look at me.” Once you made eye contact, Matt continued. “There we go. This is gonna help but you gotta stop fighting. Stop fighting baby. Let us help you.” Matt soothed, rubbing a hand over your head, brushing back your fly aways.

Jay stood behind Matt, waiting for you to nod before he came up and wet a new washcloth. Matt and Jay immediately started running wash clothes over your face and body, desperate to get your temperature down and get you more comfortable.

Kelly kept a strong hold on you, even as you began to force your body to settle into his. He could feel you shaking against him, but was relieved to feel the shaking slow as your fever began to respond to the medication and bath. As the shaking stopped, your head lulled back onto Kelly’s shoulder and your eyes slipped closed.

“Jay, go grab the thermometer. I think it’s starting to lower enough to take her out.” Kelly said, hand placed gently on your forehead. He then placed a kiss on your shoulder as you whimpered, pushing yourself further into his hold. “Shhhh. It’s almost over. We just gotta see where your temp is before we get out so we don’t have to start all over.” Kelly explained, pulling you as close as humanly possible.

Jay came jogging back in and quickly placed the thermometer in your ear. “101.8. I think it’s safe to get her out.” Jay said, turning to place the thermometer on the counter. He grabbed two new towels as Matt helped lift you out of the bath tub. Jay tossed one towel to Kelly as Kelly stood and dropped his boxers in the tub. With the other, Jay unfolded it and took you from Matt.

“I’m gonna go get clothes for both of you. Hang tight.” Matt said, jogging into the bedroom.

“How you doin baby?” Jay whispered, sitting down with you in his lap.

“M tired.” You whispered, snuggling into Jay. “Bed?” You asked, not even bothering to open your eyes.

Kelly chuckled as he dried off, listening to the conversation as Jay replied. “Yeah baby. We can go to bed. We gotta get you into dry clothes before we do that. Can’t have you getting any sicker.” Jay said, rubbing the towel over your body. Luckily, you already had your hair up in a bun from work earlier, so that saved them from having to try to blow dry your hair for you.

“Does anything else feel bad sweet girl?” Kelly asked, coming to kneel down next to you and Jay just as Matt came back in.

“Jus my head. Maybe my tummy a lil.” You whispered, not really feeling up to talking.

All of the boys nodded, though you couldn’t see them with your eyes closed. Matt handed Kelly his boxers and pjs before he kneeled down to help get you dressed. “Alright baby. I have some new underwear for you and Kelly’s shirt. Jay, I also have some pjs for you.” Matt said, carefully pulling your wet underwear off. Matt had quickly changed into his own pjs so that he could just grab you and climb into bed once you were ready.

Once all of you were dressed, Kelly helped you settle into Jay’s arms while Matt attempted to talk you into drinking more. You were being stubborn, not wanting to put anything else into your already quivering stomach. You were exhausted and there was no way they were going to get you to do anything else but sleep at this moment in time.

“Fine.” Matt sighed, placing the Gatorade back on the night stand.

“Matt.” Kelly warned in a low tone. You immediately curled into Jay, hiding your face and shaking even harder at Matt’s tone. He sounded disappointed and your fever idled brain crumpled under the same tone your father used to give you when you didn’t do what he wanted you to do. Kelly and Jay took immediate notice, but Matt seemed to miss the sign.

“Shit baby. No no no. Please don’t cry.” Matt said, sighing and mentally berating himself. “I’m sorry baby. It’s okay. I’m just worried is all. It’s okay.” Matt was basically pleading this time, hating that he was the reason you were sniffling in Jay’s grip.

“Why don’t we all lay down, hmm?” Jay cooed, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead. When you nodded, Kelly and Matt helped Jay scoot down in the bed with you. You laid directly on top of Jay who had forgone his sweats and only laid beneath you in his boxers. Kelly turned the ceiling fan on high while Matt turned the floor fan up as well. Once everyone was comfortable, and an alarm was set to check your temp and get more medicine in you, you all snuggled together and fell into a semi-peaceful sleep.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Provider Discretion (LU in Healthcare)

(Lots of technical jargon in this one, lovelies, hope you don’t mind)

Something wasn’t right.

The patient herself was… okay. Mostly. She had called 911 because she’d had back pain that had just been getting worse, and she’d said she couldn’t even get around anymore.

Mo and Hyrule often exchanged a somewhat exasperated look when someone called an emergency line for something that had been an ongoing problem, but today this… was different. She just didn’t look well.

“I’m really sorry,” the patient apologized for the fourth time as Hyrule and Mo loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

“It’s okay,” Hyrule quickly reassured her. His heart ached a little at how much this woman wanted to seem to shrink into oblivion. Even Mo, who, despite his big heart, often came across a little standoffish, had tried to make her smile multiple times. “This is what we’re here for.”

With a chief complaint of back pain, there wasn’t much to do outside of check vital signs. Mo could easily take this call. But Hyrule just… this felt wrong.

“Let’s get a 12-lead,” he said, already grabbing the cables for it while Mo got vitals. His partner didn’t argue, helping him place the leads in the right positions.

Vitals looked mostly fine. The patient’s blood pressure was high. She said she had a history of hypertension, so perhaps between that and her pain that would explain it. Though 180/98 did not make Hyrule particularly happy. But he couldn’t treat that.

The 12-lead showed normal sinus rhythm. Nothing wrong there. But something just didn’t feel right.

Grabbing the blood pressure cuff, Hyrule checked it again, but on the opposite side.

There was a discrepancy.

Hyrule and Mo looked at each other, eyebrows pinching. Mo took a manual on the left. Hyrule took a manual on the right.

They still didn’t match.

Feeling dread fill him, Hyrule told Mo, “I’m taking this call. Let’s get going. We don’t need lights but… just drive expediently, ok?”

The transport was blessedly uneventful. But the discrepancy remained. Her blood pressure was high, but higher on one side than the other. Coupling that with back pain…

Her aorta. Hyrule was worried about her aorta. The biggest artery in this woman’s entire body could getting ready to tear apart.

When Hyrule texted Warriors later, he got his answer.

Dissection. They rushed her to the OR. You pointing out the BP difference really tipped off the doc. Good catch.

Mo whistled. “Good thing she didn’t rupture in our truck.”

Hyrule blew out a breath. He was just thankful he trusted his gut.

XXX

The dispatch information had been for diabetic emergency. Fire had gotten there first, which Aurora was thankful for since she and Dawn were coming from the hospital and therefore farther away than if they’d responded from the station.

When they arrived, the house was a nightmare. The street was so narrow that the ambulance and fire truck blocked the road entirely, the stairs were so narrow Aurora felt like she had to squeeze her arms in just to climb up them, and the turns were so sharp she wasn’t sure how any kind of equipment could get up there. The patient was lying on his bed, altered, and unable to move.

According to the patient’s friend, he’d heard him fall and came up to check on him. He knew he was a diabetic and figured his blood glucose had to be low. Fire had already checked it, saying it was over two hundred. As the firefighter paramedic gave information to Aurora, he said, “He could be acting like this because of his sugar. Could be a stroke. We’re not sure.”

Honestly, Aurora couldn’t see the patient all that well from her vantage point. Dawn had already walked in and started assessing, they’d handed a reeves stretcher to the firemen, and they were working on loading him on to it. The girl went downstairs to prep the stretcher for their arrival. Once they managed to get the patient into the ambulance, Aurora stared.

This man’s entire right side of his face was noticeably drooping. He was moving his head a little to the left, eyes somewhat moving, pupils equal. Aurora quickly asked him to look at her, to follow her finger. While he could stare at her, he couldn’t track at all, and his eyes wouldn’t move to the right. He blinked once while attempting, and was only able to blink his left eye.

Who the hell thought this could be his sugar??

Once Dawn got in the truck, they were quick to get vitals and a 12-lead. He was hypertensive, all other vitals fine.

“We need to stroke alert this,” Aurora immediately said.

“But he was last seen normal three hours ago,” Dawn said uncertainly. “Isn’t that outside the window? Or is the window four hours now?”

“I think it’s four,” Aurora answered. “And it doesn’t matter either way. This is absolutely a neuro issue. Drive us hot, okay?”

Dawn nodded, heading to the front. She drove to the hospital with the lights and sirens on, allowing them a faster transport time, while Aurora called it in to the hospital. As they progressed, she tried to get the patient to follow commands, but he couldn’t. He held up his right arm but couldn’t hold his left up at all, and he still didn’t really track any movement.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were placed in a major room, transferring him quickly to the hospital bed. Warriors was charge that night, working on coordinating all the help they’d need for this patient. The ED physician entered, looking the patient over, and then turned to Aurora, asking, “So what makes you think he’s having a stroke?”

Aurora stopped in mid motion, looking at him with the most enraged and bewildered expression. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you think he’s having a stroke?” The doctor repeated.

“What makes you think he isn’t?!” Aurora snapped, completely mind blown that this was even a debate. “His face is drooping so low it’s hitting the earth’s fucking crust, he’s altered, not tracking movement, blinking with one eye, down on one side, is hypertensive, and you’re asking why I—do you even know what a stroke is??”

“Let’s just alert it,” Warriors said calmly as he walked into the room, clearly sensing that the paramedic was about to explode. “It’ll get us a CT to rule it out.”

Aurora was fuming, and she stormed out before she could hear a response. Dawn tried to gently check on her, only to be subjected to her ranting for the next hour.

Later, Warriors texted Hyrule, who relayed the message. “You were right.”

“OF FUCKING COURSE I WAS!”

XXX

Legend wasn’t particularly a fan of working triage.

There were aspects of it that were exciting - he was the one to make first contact with patients who didn’t come in via ambulance, and he determined their acuity. But there was also a public relations aspect to it, a patience dealing with impatient people, a kindness and sympathy for those who were genuinely hurting or needing help but had to wait anyway. It was understandable, but public relations… was not Legend’s forte.

There was a reason he was put in triage, though.

It wasn’t always obvious, what was wrong with someone. But there were times when a patient just didn’t look right. Legend saw the man limp over, listened to him as he explained that he had some leg pain that had been going on for the last few days, how he thought maybe he’d strained a muscle but the pain hadn’t improved.

There were always signs to look out for. Little things, cues that something was off. The man looked resigned, reluctant; he clearly had been talked in to coming to the hospital, and he commented that his wife insisted on it. Legend saw the clothes he wore, heard the accent he spoke with, saw his muscles, and pieced together that he was probably a farmer.

Farmers never came to the hospital.

“We’ll get you back as soon as we can,” he finally said after completing his assessment. Usually, this patient would be low on the acuity scale—a muscle spasm or strain was not nearly as important as a heart attack, pneumonia, sepsis, strokes, traumas—but Legend made him a yellow rather than a green. Just to be sure.

That higher acuity score got him a room far faster. That faster room made a doctor assess him and notice that his left leg was bigger than his right. That doctor made sure he got an ultrasound of his leg, found clots in his leg. She also learned the man was short of breath sometimes, which his wife insisted was new, and got a CT scan.

Legend glanced at his chart later to see him being admitted. Confused and curious, he did some digging.

The man had a pulmonary embolism.

Huffing with a small smile of satisfaction, Legend closed out of the chart as another patient approached.

XXX

Time had to admit, he did not spend as much time assessing his patients as he should. His hours were stolen away in the OR, unpredictable and chaotic as his line of work was. So sometimes he didn’t get to round, sometimes he didn’t have a chance to walk in and chat with the patients and the nurses and the licensed independent providers who took charge of their care.

Today he was glad he did.

The patient was actually calm and pleasant, had little complaint of anything except for some lower back pain. In the world of uncomfortable hospital beds, it wasn’t a huge surprise.

But Time saw something. Some staining, bruising, around the patient’s groin. He peeked around their gown, turned them a little, and saw it.

Their groin was purple. He asked the nurse, who said they were told this had been baseline for a day or two, and that the independent providers over them had acknowledged the finding and moved on.

Time walked into the doc box where the providers were. “I want a CT abdomen for room 3. She’s got some bruising that’s concerning. Her H&H has been down trending steadily.”

“Her JP drains haven’t put out much,” the physician assistant noted, looking over the patient’s chart.

“She might have a retroperitoneal bleed,” Time pointed out. “Let’s just be sure.”

Years of education and even more years of experience had taught the trauma surgeon well. The war was especially humbling and educational. So when he got a text from the PA that the patient did indeed have a retroperitoneal, he wasn’t surprised. But he was disappointed that he had to be the one to notice it.

Sometimes, he supposed, it took the leader to point out the problem.

XXX

Four… didn’t like this.

Report had been bad enough. The day shift nurse spoke of how the patient had been previously septic and was recuperating well before her pressor demand had gone up during the day. She looked… not great. She was so edematous they were constantly changing the sheets underneath her arms because her body was leaking fluid from every inch of itself - they had dumped fluids into her over the last few days just to maintain her blood pressure. She was on a lasix drip to get her lot o pee off the fluid as best as possible, and her kidney function was… decent, but not great.

As Four assessed her, the clenching his chest only worsened. She was alert, oriented, a little miserable but trying to be in good spirits, bless her. She was peeing a decent amount, her pulses were present despite the swelling, her lung sounds were a little coarse but overall mostly clear. Her abdomen was soft and non-tender, her pupils were equal and reactive, and she didn’t have much complaint of pain aside from being sick of laying in bed, which Four could understand.

But still. This just… didn’t look great.

As the night progressed, the woman’s pressor need climbed. Four continued to increase epinephrine, increase norepinephrine. He tried not to increase the vasopressin too much as it had such a profound effect on vasoconstriction that it could cause necrosis. Also, the woman had a history of heart failure and had a pretty weak heart.

Four eventually went to the resident in charge of the patient for the night. “Hey. Can we maybe give 11 some albumin? She has plenty of fluid to give, but clearly it isn’t in her vasculature - she’s peeing ok but her pressure isn’t tolerating it. I feel like it could help.”

The resident shuffled on his feet uncertainly. “The surgeon really wants to make sure we can get this fluid off. I’d rather keep her negative and not give her more fluid, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Four greed before continuing, “But albumin is only 250mL, and if it helps suck in the fluid that’s third spacing, it’ll still help. We’re dumping fluid in her through the pressors anyway.”

The resident continued to waffle, before the night attending asked, “She’s on vaso, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just go up on that.”

Four stared a moment longer, starting to doubt himself. He hadn’t been a nurse for long, and if an attending physician was saying this, then… it had to be true, right?

Sighing, he went back to the room and did as he was told. The patient’s blood pressure improved well enough, and the night progressed fine.

The next night was not as fine. At rounds, Four suggested that perhaps she should be lined for CRRT, a continuous dialysis that would allow for Four to control how much fluid they were pulling and would likely be better for the patient to tolerate. The night doctors shrugged, saying they’d mention it to the day team.

Again, the woman’s blood pressure was tanking. Again, Four had to increase pressors. Vaso had been turned down and was told to be left alone because the woman’s systemic vascular resistance was so high the attending was worried about her heart. (Four couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about it, because he knew that was going to happen)

This time, though, she went into atrial fibrillation as well. As Four called the resident and attending into the room, they deliberated the matter, muttering, “Maybe we should line her for CRRT.”

Four blinked. Stared. Was he… losing his mind?? Was he invisible? He’d suggested this earlier!

Ultimately, Four had managed to keep the patient stable enough so that it wasn’t needed. Ultimately, the shift ended uneventfully.

But when Four came back for his third night, he could hear the woman’s breathing from the door, he could hear how she was drowning in fluid because she couldn’t tolerate losing fluid but had too much for her lungs and heart to handle. The day team had lined her for CRRT, but her pressors were almost maxed out at their dosage, and she was so hypotensive that the renal nurse who had set up the machine was hesitant to start it up, saying it would further bottom out her pressure.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, the provider in charge of making decisions and orders was a nurse practitioner, someone who was used to this unit. She walked in, saw the issues Four had seen, and she walked right back out, making a call.

Four struggled to keep the patient alive long enough for the ECMO team to arrive as the patient fell apart. He felt frustration boil his blood as he had to hand off her care after fighting for her, had to watch as the CV ICU nurse came in to take over while surgeons put large cannulas into the patient’s body to redirect blood flow around her heart so she could still perfuse her organs. He watched as they wheeled her out of the trauma ICU to go to the cardiac ICU where she would remain while on such extreme support, and he threw his pen on the desk, burying his face in his hands, fuming.

They should have listened to him.