#EMT Squared | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caesium-55 · 1 year ago

Text

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

794 notes · View notes

wolfflows-world · 4 months ago

Text

2nd house Pluto/Mars Notes

Those with the aspects listed below might find themselves changing jobs a lot, as Pluto brings transformation/change— it’s like tower + death energy.

Second house deals with the way in which we make money and our personal finances/stability. In particular, those with malefics ruling the second might find themselves struggling moreso than those with benefics. Of course, this might not be true if the benefic is being maltreated by Pluto/Mars through an opposition/square.

This can lead to a lot of financial instability. You may even be labeled a job hopper. I would bet the majority have had to deal with their fair share of toxic workplaces/shitty managers that play favorites/the wrong side of nepotism/bullying-- my heart goes out to y'all. Please remember you are NOT what you do for a living and just because you haven't found traditional stability yet does not mean you are less than or inferior in any way. Think of all the wisdom gained and the ways in which your negative experiences caused you to develop stronger boundaries + intuition.

I actually think these folks would probably do quite well in a fairly chaotic environment like ER doctor, EMT, surgeon, professional fighter, etc. Notice I said chaotic and not stressful/dysfunctional-- there is a difference. Think very busy, something always going on.

JUST A THEORY but those with these aspects could struggle with ADHD/ASD/BPD/PTSD/bipolar or other mental illness/personality disorders/developmental disorders that cause them to struggle keeping a job or reaching + maintaining financial stability.

The following placements should only be considered if the aspect is within a 3 degree orb (except for the Moon):

Aries/Virgo Risings --> Venus oppposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 3 degrees

Taurus/Leo Risings —> Mercury opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 3 degrees

Gemini Risings —> Moon opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 14 degrees

Cancer Risings —> Sun opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 3 degrees

Libra/Pisces Risings —> Mars opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto within 3 degrees

Scorpio/Aquarius Risings —> Jupiter opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 3 degrees

Sagittarius/Capricorn Risings —> Saturn opposing/squaring/conjunct Pluto/Mars within 3 degrees

2nd house Pluto/Mars may struggle as well with this

I feel like the conjunctions might not feel it as much or it might not be as negative as the oppositions/squares are.

Those with Jupiter/Venus ruling the 2nd house also may not feel it as negatively, given the positive influence of benefics.

117 notes · View notes

blushingreid · 10 months ago

Text

Temporary Parents

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: hi bbs, it’s been so so long & I’m sorry :( Here’s a longer fic that’s been in the drafts for YEARS NOW LMAOOOOO (disclaimer: this was written before my like 3 yr hiatus, no proof read, just straight posted for y'alls enjoyment) Giving some type of dad vibes I think might've been a request, but enjoy & slide me some feedback ! <3

Gun drawn, Spencer cautiously entered the house and into the child’s bedroom. Y/n followed closely behind, her gun out, ready for any outcome. Hearing a shuffle coming from the closet, y/n grasped Spencer’s bicep to get his attention before silently signaling to the closet. Spencer slowly approached the closet and whipped the door open.

“FBI! Put your hands up!”

Regret instantly hit Spencer as he holstered his gun when he saw a crying child crawl out of the closet. It was Jayden, Jordan Richard’s five-year-old son.

Y/n holstered her gun and approached him, arms outstretched. “Hey there, you don’t have to be scared anymore, we’re the good guys,” she quietly explained as she motioned for Jayden to come closer to her.

He hesitated and looked between y/n and Spencer before running into y/n’s arms. After they left the house, Y/n brought him to the ambulance in the driveway to get checked out, while the team talked about the next steps.

They had been called to a small town in Virginia to investigate a series of families murdered with the same m.o. The team had gone to arrest the unsub, Jordan Richard, well the person they originally thought was the unsub. What they didn’t expect was for the alleged unsub and his family to have been the next victims. This meant the real unsub was still out there and the team was back to square one.

The only miracle was that the unsub had gotten sloppy and overconfident that he had just assumed that “missing” Jayden must’ve been sleeping over someone else’s house. Now this child would be the unsub’s demise.

Y/n was about to go join the team when Jayden grabbed her hand, silently pleading for her not to leave them. She gave him a small smile and sat down next to him in the ambulance.

“He’s lucky. There are no signs of any physical abuse,” the EMT said while placing a small band-aid on Jayden’s finger.

“Y/l/n, we need to take Jayden to headquarters and see if he can remember anything that can help us,” Hotch said before getting into one of the SUVs.

Y/n explained to Jayden the plan to head back to headquarters for the day. He didn’t seem to entirely understand the plan, except that he would get to spend the day with y/n, so he nodded and followed her into the SUV.

When they finally arrived at the bullpen, y/n led Jayden into one of the lounges. JJ came in to drop off some drawing supplies and snacks to help him feel more comfortable. The two of them spent the rest of the day attempting to get Jayden to open up about anything he might remember from last night. To everyone’s disappointment, Jayden was still too traumatized and only responded with nods and shakes of his head. Penelope had tried to find out if Jayden has any other family near, but she couldn’t find any. The social worker permitted Jayden to stay with y/n and Spencer, given that he’s a key witness and potentially still in danger. Actually, he wouldn’t let go of y/n’s leg when the social worker tried to take him for the night, so the social worker permitted him to stay with them until the case was solved.

Once the three of them arrived at Spencer and y/n’s shared apartment, Spencer quickly went to childproof the guest bedroom. After tucking him in, y/n slid into bed next to Spencer, his arms instantly wrapping around her.

“You know you always wanted kids,... so here you go,” y/n joked.

“I guess you could say this is our trial period for parenting,” Spencer laughed and placed a kiss goodnight to y/n’s forehead.

The multiple late nights and early mornings for this case, had tired them out so much that soon they were bother knocked out for the night. So knocked out, that neither felt Jayden crawl into bed with them.

The next morning, y/n rolled over in bed to find that it was empty. She didn’t plan to leave her comfortable bed, until she heard Spencer scream. Running out of bed, she stopped once she saw Spencer covered in some type of food, Jayden no where to be seen.

“Spence what happened to you?” Y/n laughed, walking into the kitchen.

“JAYDEN THREW HIS YOGURT AT ME!”

“What’d you do to get him to do that?” She teased, looking around the apartment for Jayden. Y/n eventually found him watching tv in the guest room.

“Absolutely nothing. All I did was join him at the table and the next thing I knew he launched his yogurt at me. This is my favorite sweater too,” Spencer pouted, trying to wipe off the yogurt.

“It could be because the first time you met, you had a gun pointed at him. He could still feel threatened by you,” y/n sighed before grabbing Spencer a new shirt.

“By the end of this case, I swear to you, Jayden and I are gonna be best friends,” Spencer promised.

Y/n didn’t doubt it one bit. She knew Spencer would be the best dad in the world.

The next two days had gone quick, Spencer and y/n stayed with Jayden to keep him safe and were there once he was comfortable enough to give them more information about that night.

Y/n had left Spencer and Jayden alone in the apartment, while her and Emily checked out some leads. She hoped, the two of them wouldn’t tear apart the apartment by the time she got back. They’d seemed to be getting along together the past two days.

After checking out the leads, y/n headed back to her apartment to check on Spencer and Jayden before heading back to headquarters. She mentally braced herself for whatever she would be walking into as she unlocked the apartment door. To her surprise, she heard Jayden and Spencer laughing together. As she entered the apartment, she saw Spencer and Jayden running and ducking behind furniture with nerf guns. She giggled at the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, she was hit in the forehead by a foam dart. Y/n looked in the direction the dart came from to see a guilty Spencer emerge from behind the kitchen counter.

“Sorry love, I thought you were Jayden,” Spencer said as he jogged to the door to greet her with a kiss.

“I see you two have been keeping yourselves entertained,” y/n laughed as she went to go sit on the couch. Spencer followed, wrapping an arm around her.

Jayden finally emerged from their bedroom, nerf gun in one hand and a piece of paper in his other. He ran and jumped onto the couch in between Spencer and y/n. Y/n examined the paper Jayden had handed her. It seemed to be a drawing of a logo.

“This looks familiar Spence, like a company logo,” y/n said as she handed the drawing to him.

“T-th-the scary m-man,�� Jayden said, pointing to a mean stick figure he’d drawn on the bottom corner of the paper.

“Is this how you know the man who hurt your family?” Y/n softly asked. Jayden quickly nodded his head before jumping off the couch and running into the other room.

“This might just be what we need to finally catch the unsub,” y/n exclaimed as she gave Spencer a quick kiss and ran out the door to tell the team.

Spencer wanted to be there with y/n and the rest of the team when they went to go arrest the unsub, but he knew he had to stay and keep Jayden safe. A small part of him was actually happy he stayed, that way he’d be able to spend more time with Jayden before a foster family takes him.

“Ok kid, how do we convince my wife to start trying for our own kid?”

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #lauren's writing #blushingreid

254 notes · View notes

lover-of-mine · 6 months ago

Text

you could take me home

Pairing: Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz (911)

Word Count: 6.2k

"Okay, they should be back here soon with your discharge papers," Buck says, coming back into the room and Eddie wants to cheer at the fact he wouldn't have to stay the night, "then we can get you home." "We?" He says, shooting a confused glance at Buck, who squares his shoulder as if he was expecting Eddie to put up a fight. "I'm staying with you," he says, tone final and Eddie groans. "Why?" "Why? Did you forget what happened today?" Buck's looking at him like he's crazy and he didn't think he should be this annoyed by it, but he is. "I don't need a babysitter, I'm a medic," he complains and Buck steps closer to the bed. "The only reason they are letting you go tonight is because I, a trained EMT, am agreeing to keep an eye on you so I don't care if you have a secret MD you never told me about, I'm staying with you or I'm not checking you out and you can stay here." "You wouldn't," Eddie frowns because he doesn't pout, but maybe he is pouting as Buck huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. "Try me." or Buck takes Eddie home after the well collapse.

The second installment of the extra fics for the trauma fic verse.

Can be read as a standalone

read it on ao3

#911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie #buddie fanfic #writing #the trauma fic verse #911fics #otp: you don't need to pretend with me

139 notes · View notes

puckingeccedentesiast · 8 months ago

Text

Hospital - 1

Nova Crosby -

9:33 pm

Sidney had never cared an inch less in his life about anything, when he got ushered off to the locker room mid game only to get handed a very distressed Luke on the phone he knew something was wrong. Luke only called once a week, on Thursday afternoon because it's something he's always done with Sid, to help build a solid relationship and good repore with him.

"Hey Luke-" Sid had started but before his lips could even form the words there was a barrage of information, but Sidney only registered two words. Though it could be down to the way Luke was speaking like his life depended on it or the blaring of sirens in the background all Sid heard was; Nova, Hospital.

"Where." Sid had demanded as he tapped around on the screen for the speaker function, throwing the phone down on the wood bench with a thud that made the attendant that dragged him off ice cringe. Yanking the strap of his helmet off, throwing it haphazardly into the little nook where it sat, gloves and his jersey started a pile of the floor, followed by his girdle and shoulder pads.

"North Shore, we're about 10 minutes from there." Lukes voice wavered, he was having a remarkably hard time keeping it together watching the EMT's tending to Nova's limp body, laying pale under the sterile lights of bare flashes of blue and red peek through the windows.

"I'm coming, I'll be there tonight. Let me know the information as soon as you have it." Sid huffed, his undergear stubbornly refusing to come off around his ankle. Using a wet towel to wipe the game he got to play off of him and pulling his suit on, not worried about fastening his tie, shoving it in his pocket and grabbing then phone, jamming it back to his ear and sprinting out of PPG paints arena.

"I will see you then Sid, I promise to keep you updated." Luke said, squeezing against the wall of the ambulance as an EMT brushed past him attending to Nova, keeping her stable as they passed under the streetlights, the big hospital building looming in the horizon, little squares of light from the various rooms got bigger as they neared the building.

#risen rambles :d #nc57 #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #sidney crosby #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes imagine #hughes brothers #nj devils #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby fic #pittsburgh penguins

97 notes · View notes

phyrestartr · 1 year ago

Text

HOUND pt.2 | Miguel x M!Reader

Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 2 W/C: 2.7k | Part 2 of 2

#NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol

Note: AAAAH ok it's done and now I can struggle to finish my other fics instead asjdkf;weiafjf

Miguel couldn’t recall what happened after that. The noises outside the door, the wet sloshing of viscera and pained outcries echoed faintly in the black corners of his mind, but nothing else. Nothing about how he got out of that room. Nothing about what had attacked him. Nothing about where you had gone.

The mystery led him to reviewing the footage. The security cameras were set in each room, only to be accessed in times where someone was suspected to be infected and other suspicious situations. He found the moments leading up to everything, the moment you pushed him against the wall, when you started taking off the vest, when you threw Miguel into the bathroom and forced the door closed with brute strength.

What followed was unbearable. The thing, now confirmed to have been one of your kind, rippled with overwhelming, excruciating power. You couldn’t square up with it fairly, but you were smart and fast, hitting when it really counted and pulling the trigger only when you knew it’d strike true. But the problem was its objective; the entire fight, Miguel realized, was a contest for the bathroom door. The monster didn’t care about you. You weren’t its target. It was going for him.

But it didn’t show you any mercy. It tore chunks out of you, shattered your ribs, broke whatever part of you it touched until you’d put it down for good with a full mag into its soft, melted skull. You staggered backwards, feeling behind you for the cool touch of the door before you collapsed against it, trying to stay standing despite it all. It was hard to watch. To see someone suffering and still fighting the good fight even though they’d already lost in order to win.

You eventually crumbled and held what was left of your stomach and chest as you heaved in air. Loud sounds, like a wooden train whistle, hissed through the gaps left between your exposed ribs and the holes in your tattered lungs time after time, breath after breath, up until the EMTs arrived; you scrambled to get up, nearly spilling your guts and breaking off a leg before a tranquilizer hit you, and put you down.

After that, you’d been carted off, and Miguel stepped out of the bathroom moments later, shaken and confused. Gabe showed up, thank God, and the thing that’d started all the bullshit was dead, but he couldn’t help the lingering tendrils of paranoia stitching the muscles taut in his shoulders. Then, and now.

He needed to see you for himself.

“Listen, listen, it’s suuuper nice that you suddenly have a weak spot for the guy, it’s really cute, but we haveta set you up with a different one for now–”

“What?” Miguel cut in while Lyla spun in her chair and fixed her obnoxious sunnies. “Why do–they heal. I don’t want any other–”

“Yep, yep, yep, I totally get it, but he’s reaaal messed up. He’s gonna take some time to fix ‘n heal and everything, yenno?” Lyla spun around again in a full 360 before coming back to face Miguel and point her pen at him. “If he’s too hard to fix, then they were thinking of scrapping him for parts and testing and everything.”

Scrapped. For parts.

“They won’t scrap him.” Miguel frowned. “He’s the best host we have. The most successful specimen the whole fucking project's made.”

“Uh, yeah, and that's why they're gonna do their best to save him.” She tilted her head, curious. “No one wants to kill a good dog, y'know.”

It was true. No one wanted to rid Alchemax of one who was dedicated enough to put their life in jeopardy for the sake of protecting their charge. He didn't expect you to go this far. No one did.

–

It took weeks for you to be reinstated as Miguel's watchdog. In the interim, he was appointed a new guard, but life didn’t feel right. He supposed that bonds and trust played into the feeling more than he'd like to admit. Sure, the two of you hadn't really spoken before that day, but you'd been with each other for years. Silently learning about one another, measuring each other's capacity to be trustworthy.

So with a new dog, Miguel felt unnerved, maybe even a bit unsteady. It had been one of them who'd snapped, after all. One of them lost their minds and went on a rampage–which was exactly what the current meeting was about.

“No one saw it coming,” one said. “We didn't think it would happen, and that's the problem, isn't it?”

“Weeell, things are bound to go awry here and there.” Olivia shrugged and crossed her arms. “It's part of science! I'd say this whole drama has given us some pretty good results on the extremes; one imploded and started eating people, and the other one exploded trying to save one of us.”

“Still think we should scrap O'hara's mutt for parts,” Aaron interjected, unhelpful and annoying as ever. “Who knows when that one'll blow too, hey?”

Miguel ignored Aaron. He wouldn’t feed into his prodding and pushing. “He's mine. I decide when he's too dangerous.”

“You sure you're not gonna be blinded by feelings, O'hara?” Aaron spat with an ugly smile. “I saw the footage. You–”

“Oh my God, don't act like you don't try to fuck everyone else's guards,” another scientist groaned. “You're probably why one snapped.”

Aaron's face blistered red. Miguel smirked, enjoying the show, enjoying the fact that no one was on the idiot's side. It was the apocalypse. Fucking mutants was the least of their worries.

Stone, exasperated, called it there, and everyone dispersed. Miguel took his time with his thoughts in the silence of the room. The lack of people around him sparked a jolt of adrenaline, or maybe fear, and sent his train of thought off the rails and into something ungodly. He hated being alone these days. He couldn't bear the thought of being the last man standing, of having to fend for himself after everything. Not that he would have to, no, not unless your replacement did him in, or–

“Sir?”

Miguel turned and nearly knocked his chair off its wheels. He clutched the desk in a panic just before his eyes landed on you.

You looked different. Streaks of faint scars painted the side of your face where an eyepatch hid away whatever wreckage laid beneath. A metal brace hugged one of your knees and dripped down into a glittering, high-tech prosthetic limb that told a story Miguel didn't want to indulge in. And you looked tired. So tired. Your voice, once something rough like sandpaper, now sounded like shattered glass grinding underfoot.

But you still had that placid, somewhat judgemental stare that told him, I'm alright.

Your brows raised expectantly, like your return didn't need to be celebrated and you'd much rather like to get on with your day of following Miguel around like a lost puppy. He could relate, and he could comply.

–

Acting normal until getting you into his new quarters was tough; Miguel had the inexplicable urge to touch you, see your skin, feel your heat singe his palms, but he wouldn't do it in the eye of the others, no. Not for his own decency, but because they didn't deserve it. You were all his.

Miguel was sure to lock the doors and initiate an armoured lockdown to ease his paranoia before he turned to you with a demand on his tongue: “Strip.”

You quirked a brow. “This didn't go so well last time.” But you complied, clearly trying to hide away your amusement.

“It's fine. We're fine.” He helped you pull the vest and the shirt off just like he did all those weeks ago, but now with more finesse and determination; he wanted his do-over, and he was going to get it. “I need to see for myself.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your shoulders once your bare skin hit the air and prickled with goosebumps. Even the lifeless spots with angry reddened scars recoiled from the sharp nip, and then the heat of Miguel's touch.

He dragged his gaze all over you, drinking in the ruined expanses of skin with hungry eyes. Every new mark was examined, every stitch and bandage touched and committed to memory, every bruise earned the softest graze of fingertips. It was hard not to be enticed with one another in that tense, long silence.

Miguel's eyes lingered on your split lip before meeting your eyes, reading whatever he could from you. But he didn't expect what you said.

“You get hurt?” You grumbled.

Miguel shook his head lightly, his attention unwavering as his hands made themselves useful and plucked loose the buttons on your cargos again. “I'm fine.” He pulled the zipper down next. The muscles of your abdomen rippled against the palm keeping you still. “Sore from you throwing me, but fine.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “If you'd listened and moved–” your next words dissolved against the brutish lips colliding with yours. Miguel's hands slipped further below and palmed your soft cock through the thin material of your undergarments; apparently you weren't surprised by the candid dick grab, but the kiss of all things threw you for a loop. Miguel moved to leaving marks along your neck while your brain scrambled to make sense of the random affection.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You breathed, unsure of where to touch or what to do with your hands.

“Picking up where we left off.” Miguel squeezed your filling bulge again, eagerly massaging you in encouragement to get things going. His ego swelled when your hand found his shoulder after a particularly weak spot was found.

“Hah. I shouldn't be–”

“You'll manage,” he insisted, watching you like prey trying to woo its predator. “You probably haven't been touched like this in a while, si, guapo?” Your hips jolted against his hand while his husky voice drew you in. “Bed. Now.”

You didn't have much of a choice, not when Miguel's needy hands guided you to the soft sheets and forced you to lay down. You were just in the middle of a sore groan when Miguel pulled your waistband down just enough to free your hardened cock, and give you a fierce dose of whiplash between the pain of healing wounds and the bliss of hands on you.

For all of Miguel’s want, now that he was this far, he wasn’t sure where to take it. He was going to make you cum, obviously, but how would he go about it? Handjob, blowjob, actually taking it up the ass? Some were obviously more impactful than others, so–

“Christ, alright, now that you’ve played with my dick, we can put it away for today, Doc,” you grouched, sitting up to pull Miguel’s hand away. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Wh–no.” He swatted your hand away like a petulant child and shot you an equally childish glare. “You have to obey my orders, as far as I recall.”

Something akin to a deadpan hit your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re gonna pull that shit now?”

“You’re my subordinate,” Miguel reminded, not bothering to hide his smug demeanor and faux innocence. “Act like it.”

Before you could bitch back, he started stroking you firmly and slowly, squeezing harder near the tip and base with every motion. You stopped complaining surprisingly fast–Miguel almost wanted you to fight him more, but, maybe for a first run, your utter compliance would serve him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold you down or fend off your grabby hands while, at the same time, trying to get a handle on how to properly please another man.

Just when you sounded like you were about to object again, he took you into his mouth, and shut you up. At that moment, Miguel was glad you were touch-starved. Otherwise, the inexperienced gags and hefty strings of saliva connecting his lush lips to your throbbing length would’ve surely shortened Miguel’s lifespan. He was supposed to be good in bed. He was good in bed. And he’d make damn sure to continue being good in bed with another man.

Your hand fisting in his well-kempt hair had him growling with warning, thinking you were going to try to make him stop, but one glance up at you through teary lashes washed that thought away; your eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between your lip and welling with the faintest bit of blood from those elongated canines of yours. A kinder shade of crimson painted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a sweet summer colour that seemed to darken more when Miguel bravely slipped you down his throat and up again.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” You let go of his hair with a pathetic whimper and collapsed onto your back, hands reaching back to claw into the wall and headboard to try and expel your rattling energy someway, somehow. The grating of metal and long, deep marks left in your claws’ wake would piss Miguel off any other day, but right now, your destructive praise fed his ego until it threatened to burst.

But a slight shift from the scientist and a misplaced hand on the convergence of flesh and metal shook up the easy rhythm. You hissed and sat up, reflexively snatching his hand away from your leg with barbed fingers. Miguel pulled off of you with a choked yelp rattling in his throat as your hold drew blood, and like a dog who'd bit another too hard, you let go.

“Shit, I didn't mean to–” you stopped yourself, though, and instead took Miguel's hand with a less-lethal touch. You looked at the wound before leaning down and running the flat of your tongue against the wound once, twice, thrice. The pain subsided quickly after, leaving behind a tingly, sparking feeling. “Doesn’t look too bad.” Miguel watched your nostrils flare and pupils dilate–clearly, his blood was having an effect on you. And that fact was having an effect on Miguel, in turn.

The apology for hurting you was long forgotten by the time Miguel leaned up and kissed you, holding the side of your face with his wounded hand. He pushed hard against the tip of your fang until spongy flesh gave way, and the vile tang of blood pooled in his mouth, and now in yours.

You moaned, or maybe growled, and Miguel’s hips jerked. He worked on slipping his weeping tongue around your mouth while his good hand continued his work on your stiffy, eager to finish you off while you were distracted. Your hands clutched at him again, claws still nipping into his skin and clothes, but more like a cat kneading its owner rather than a lion latching onto prey.

But those barbs sunk deep into him when you came. Your hold on him tightened, and the low growls reverberating through your body crescendoed into a few, cherished moans when your lips left his as rapture hit you. Miguel spared a look down at the mess you’d made, but too quickly his gaze returned to the bobs of your Adam’s apple, the muscles pulsing and tensing in the aftershocks, the sheen of red coating your cracked lips. It was enough to make him come undone, untouched by you, only fulfilled by the rub of cotton on his hardened cock.

And of course, you noticed it right away. Ugh. “You’re a freak,” you scoffed out between breaths. “Fucking–cumming from, what? Getting your pet off?”

Miguel rolled his eyes to betray his embarrassment, and squeezed you hard at the base to pull one last mean, choked groan out of you. “Callate. You could try being grateful, hm?”

“Don’t think that’s in my programming.” You leaned back and looked down at the mess. “Who’s gonna clean this up, Doc?” You prodded looking up at him through your lashes.

Miguel’s intrigue piqued. “Here I thought you were too tired,” he mocked.

“Might change your mind tomorrow. Oughta cash in while I can.”

“Hm.” Miguel let go and leaned back, shaky fingers working on his own clothes. “Guess I can give you another treat.”

But, as fate would have it, one more go of it turned into five, and left him half-alive come the morning.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr

151 notes · View notes

hybridreviews · 6 days ago

Text

Do y'all just not like people named Meg?

#adventure #Anime #Crunchyroll #EMT Squared #first impression #magic #Once Upon a Witch&039;s Death #Spring 2025 #Time of the Season #witches

0 notes

sturniololoco · 1 year ago

Text

Big Game pt 6

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x Nathan Doe

Warnings: blood, falling, kissing, wall punching?, etc.

Nate’s POV

I lifted SLS/N off the couch as I heard the ambulance pull up to the warehouse. The EMTs rushed over and took her from me, laying her on a stretcher and asking her questions. She was only able to mumble little responses as they lifted her into the back of the van.

I climbed in with her, holding her hand. She tried to squeeze back, but could barely manage in her current state. Chris tried to climb in as well, but the EMT stopped him.

"Only one in the van." He grunted, working fast to check SLS/N's blood pressure.

Chris looked at me, his eyes fearful. I began to stand up to let him in, but Matt stopped me.

"You go with her, we'll follow." He grabbed Chris's arm, leading him to their car in a sprint. Nick was already in the back.

The EMTs closed us in and began working on SLS/N as best they could till we got to the hospital.

They unloaded SLS/N out of the van, sprinting the stretcher inside and barking orders. Me right behind them. The only words I could comprehend out of their mouths were "Lost a lot of blood" and "Hurry up".

They got SLS/N to a room and ran her inside. I could see a doctor already in the waiting, gloves on his hand. I began to walk behind her, but a nurse stopped me, telling me I couldn't be in the room with her yet.

She then shut the door in my face, leaving me no choice but to wait for the triplets in the waiting room.

On my way down the hallway, I felt all of the emotions I'd been holding in let go, causing me to punch the wall.

"Fuck!" I yelled into the empty hallway. The tears started welling in my eyes. I couldn't walk, I couldn't breathe.

I sunk down on the floor, tears pouring, my chest tightening uncomfortably. I put my head in my hands and sob.

I then hear loud footsteps running down the hall. I stand up and see the triplets sprinting down the hallway towards me.

Chris gets there first, wrapping me in a hug. I was taken aback but hugged home all the same. He pulled back and held me in front of him by the shoulders, looking at me with red puffy eyes due to crying.

"Chris, I can't lose her. I love her so goddamn much." I say to him, my voice shaking and coming out in sobs. He pulls me back in, Matt and Nick joining us this time.

"We know Nate," Nick says, not sounding mad, only squeezing me tighter in his embrace.

Then we walk to the waiting room to wait.

"Sturniolo?" A nervous voice calls about six hours later. We all jump to our feet and follow her back down the hallway.

She opens the door after saying, "She's awake and responsive, just be quiet. Her head most defiantly hurts."

We nod and then walk through the open door.

SLS/N was lying in her hospital bed, her leg, which was now in a full-on cast, being suspended from a hammock-looking thing.

She gave us a sleepy smile, her own face stained with tears. I walk up to her and kneel beside her bed, grabbing her hand.

"How ya feeling, sweetheart?" I ask her, the tears threatening to fall again.

"I'm fine! I got a new haircut!" She says, her voice coming out raspy from sleep. She takes her arm and flips her hair to the side, allowing us to see a square of hair shaved off, now replaced with stitches.

I let out a breathless laugh. Only SLS/N would be joking right now.

I stood up, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then backed away, allowing her brothers to check in on her. Chris wouldn't stop apologizing, no matter how many times she told him "I'm okay, It was an accident."

He eventually gave up and settled for a hug. Nick and Matt also said their hello's, checking in on their baby sister.

Nick went to the front desk to work on some paperwork while the rest of us stayed behind with SLS/N.

"Nate?" I hear her call.

I stand up so fast and walk to her side, sitting on the edge of her bed. She gives me grabby hands, signaling that she wants a hug. I do so, despite the awkward angle due to her broken ankle.

I lean in and give her a kiss, deep and passionate, but not too hard so as not to hurt her head. Just as I was about to tell her how much I love her, and how I was glad she was okay, Nick walked back into the room.

"ew, get a room!" He yells, making a fake gagging noise.

"This is my room jackass! You can leave anytime!" She shouted at her brother, who immediately shut up. She pulls my neck, and brings me back in for another kiss.

One more part tomorrow!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nathan doe x reader #nathan doe smut #nathan doe

111 notes · View notes

mrsevans90 · 1 year ago

Text

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 14

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: Violence, attempted kidnapping, stalking, injured arm, mention of weapon, nightmares, angst, period care, fear, anxious Sy, police officers, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 13

My heart immediately sinks to the pit of my stomach and in an instant, I’m running. It feels like minutes as I run watching Colin’s slimy hands wrapped around Emma’s chest from behind as she fights to defend herself. He is gripping her wrist tightly as he pins it to her chest and she’s twisting and yelling, but I can no longer hear her screams over my own raging thoughts. He looks up as my thundering steps approach just as Emma bites his hand.

“Ouch! You bitch!” He screams at Emma and I use his moment of distraction to rip Emma from his arms. I push her behind me away from Colin and without another thought, I rare back and punch him square in the nose. The force behind that punch was enough to split my knuckles but I don’t hesitate to follow his body to the ground and hit him again. Hard. As hard as I can. I’m completely lost in my rage as the only sound I hear being the blood rushing past my ears as my adrenaline pumps throughout my body. A large hand lands on my shoulder and I’m about to turn and fight whoever has dared to touch me in this state when I recognize Mr. Ellis. Mr. Ellis is a friend of my PawPaw’s and similar in age to him which gives me momentary pause. When did he get here?

“Son, he’s out cold. You’ve gotta stop now.” Mr. Ellis gestures to Colin’s body which is crumpled on the hot asphalt of the parking lot.

“I… he was…” I attempt to organize my thoughts but I can’t.

“I know, Sy. I saw. I saw him trying to snatch that girl and I was getting my gun out of the glovebox when you came running up. Didn’t think I could take him alone. I’ve already called 911 and they’re on their way.” Mr. Ellis talks to me like I’m a caged predator and I realize, that’s exactly how I feel. God, it felt so good to split my hand open on his face. To feel just an ounce of the pain I’d like to inflict upon him. I maybe only got two good hits in before Mr. Ellis stopped me, but I made them count judging from the blood seeping on the ground from Colin’s obvious broken nose. I hear a sniffle and whip around to see Emma sitting on her bottom leaned up against a dark colored car with tears streaking noiselessly down her face.

Oh God, Emma.

Despite protest from my bum leg, I clamber up and over to her. She’s holding her right wrist with her hand and looks absolutely petrified.

“Sugar, I’m here. I’m so sorry.” I apologize. I want to apologize for her seeing me like this, for leaving her alone, for not getting there soon enough, the list is endless.

“Austin…” She whimpers and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my lap on the asphalt. Sirens are getting louder as police and EMT’s swarm the grocery store parking lot.

“I was…sso…scared.” She hiccups between sobs and I feel my heart absolutely shatter.

“I know, Sugar. You were so brave. You were incredible. I’m so sorry.”

EMT’s quickly rush to Colin’s side where he remains unconscious as they transfer him to a stretcher. Much to my dismay, according to the vitals they were shouting, he’s still alive.

I know several of the police officers and they agree to call Walt for me. Following protocol, they still have to separate Emma and I to hear the versions of our story to piece together what happened. I refused any care for my hand, as the throbbing in my knuckles felt like the perfect reminder that I gave Colin what he was asking for. As a second EMT is taking a look at Emma’s wrist, a police officer that I knew from the ball field in high school named Keith allows me to say goodbye to Emma before driving me to the station for questioning.

“Is it broken?” I ask the EMT.

“There’s a possibility of a hairline fracture. We won’t know until she gets an x-ray but Ms. Miller doesn’t want to go to the hospital.” She tells me.

“Emma, baby. Go to the hospital and get it checked out.”

“I’ll give myself an x-ray at the clinic and if it’s broken I’ll call an ortho doc, but first I’m going to answer the police officer’s questions at the station.”

“Sugar, I”

“Austin, I don’t want to go to the hospital where he will be. I want to go where you are going.” There it is. She doesn’t want to be in the same building with him and I don’t blame her.

“Okay, I understand. Are you in pain?”

“I’ll be fine.” She says as she stands up and a female officer joins us.

“We have to ride separately because of their protocol, but Walt has been called and I’ll send him directly to you so you won’t be alone, alright Darlin’?”

She nods and I kiss her gently.

“I love you, and I’ll be with you as soon as they let me.”

“I love you too.” She says with a forced smile. God, I don't want to leave her.

I follow Keith to his cruiser and he allows me to sit in the passenger seat.

I call PawPaw on the way and explain what happened before I ask him to go get my truck from the parking lot since he has my spare keys, that’s full of groceries and take them home for me before dropping my truck at the police station. Nothing surprises that man as he just agrees, tells me that he’ll take the dogs back with him so not to rush and to call him when I can.

I also call Walt and he promises that he’s almost at the station and he’ll go straight to Emma when he arrives. He’s a homicide detective so this isn’t even remotely a part of his job description, but he’s well respected in the community and someone I trust entirely so I want him by Emma’s side until I can be.

We arrive at the police department where I’m placed in a monitored room for about twenty minutes before an older man comes into question me. I explain to him exactly who Colin was, Emma’s history and fear of him, and my actions when I walked out of the store. The investigator surmises that my story matches the witness testimony that was given by Mr. Ellis as well as a young mother who was walking into the store when Colin grabbed Emma.

“I can confirm that the suspect is conscious now at the hospital, but you should know there is a strong possibility he attempts to press charges against you for assault.”

I scoff. “I dare him to try.” I say truthfully and the detective just leans back in his chair.

“You’re a big guy compared to him. What was going through your head?”

“I probably would have killed him if Mr. Ellis didn’t stop me. He was trying to take the love of my life. Someone he abused physically, verbally and mentally for years before I met her. I was not going to allow that to happen.”

“Off the books of course, I’d probably do the exact same if someone came after my wife or daughter, so I don’t blame you.” He said with a smirk.

“Can I see her?”

“She’s still being questioned but I can show you where to wait.”

“Walt with her?” I ask.

“He hasn’t left her side, which is unusual but Walt’s taking good care of her.

After waiting for what felt like forever, Emma finally emerges from the room she was in with Walt right behind her. Her arm is wrapped in a temporary brace as she cradles it to her abdomen.

“Austin.” She says with a visible relief as I wrap my arms around her and she cuddles into my chest.

“Thank you, Walt.” I shake his hand while not removing my arms from Emma’s body.

“Not a problem. She did well. We’re pressing charges against the suspect for attempted kidnapping and stalking, in addition to the violation of the restraining order. He won’t get out of it like last time. We’re talking mandatory jailtime if he’s convicted.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank God.” I respond aloud.

“We have some paperwork to fill out and then y’all can go.” Walter directs us over to his desk and sends someone to get us coffee.

“The final thing we need to do is a written statement from you, Sy. I got Emma’s in the investigation room. She couldn’t write so I transcribed for her.”

I bite my lip to keep from cursing at the fact that my girl is injured. The poor thing looks exhausted as she cradles the Styrofoam cup of strong black coffee in her uninjured hand. I know it’s bitter after she takes a small sip and places it down with a slight look of disgust.

“I’ll make this as quick as I can, Sugar.” I say and she nods before looking at the picture of Faye that Walt has on his desk. They engage in small talk as I recount the events of the afternoon starting at the grocery store on paper. My handwriting is just barely legible, but it was good enough for the army to never say anything so they shouldn’t have problem with it either. When I’m finished, I glance at Em who is resting her head against her uninjured arm across Walt’s desk and lightly dozing. I hand the legal pad back over to Walt who reads over it and then has me sign it at the bottom. He adds his signature as a witness to my statement.

“There was a vehicle in the parking lot near where the assault took place that had an Alabama license plate on it.”

“Was it registered to him?”

“Nope, rental car. I’ve got someone trying to confirm that he was the renter.”

“Was it darkly colored?”

“Black.”

“Damnit..” I mutter. “She said she saw a dark car parked out by her neighbor’s house all night. It turned around in her driveway but she thought it was the neighbor’s kid. I didn’t check the surveillance video when she mentioned it.” I’m such a fucking idiot, I think to myself.

“Was she home?”

“Nah, she was at mine. I should’ve looked into it.”

“Well, at least she wasn’t there and you’ve got surveillance camera’s up. Send me the video later when you go back and obsess over this.” He knows me well.

“I will.”

“She gonna be okay?” Walt asks and I shrug my shoulders.

“I honestly don’t know. I just can’t believe this even happened. I should have protected her.”

“You did, Sy. That guys face proves it.”

“I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. She’s not a child that needs a babysitter, you didn’t know. Just try to let her process her feelings about it and be there. That’s all you can do in situations like these.”

“Thanks man. I really owe ya for being there for us. For her. I know this isn’t your responsibility and you certainly don’t have the time to spare.”

“We’re family, practically brothers. She’s a great girl and I expect to see her officially becoming family one day.” He says with a wink and I smirk.

“I’m just trying not to scare her off or I’d already have a ring.” We shake hands and I gently wake Emma up.

“Sugar, we’re done. Let’s get out of here.” I tell her and she sleepily blinks up at me before nodding. Walt and I are both surprised when she walks around Walter’s desk and wraps her arms around him.

“Thank you for everything. Next time you have Faye, I would love to meet her.” She says genuinely and Walt smiles, something rare for him.

“You can count on it. As soon as she knows you’re a veterinarian she’ll be asking you a million questions so prepare yourself now.”

“Bring her to the clinic sometime. She can be my assistant for the day.” Emma smiles and I’m surprised at how comfortable she seems around Walt. I’m grateful for it though. I’m closer with him than I am with my own brother and I appreciate her having someone else here she can rely on. Walt’s not an easy man to get to know, so it makes me happy that she broke down that barrier and got him to open up. Breaking down walls seems to come naturally to her. God knows, she worked her magic on me somehow.

We say our goodbyes and make our way to the parking lot where I find my truck parked in the lot, just like PawPaw said he would.

“How?” Emma asked as I opened the passenger door and lifted her in.

“PawPaw. Called him on the way to the station.” I answer before getting in and cranking the engine. It’s late afternoon now and this day seems to have gone on forever.

“Can we get something to eat on the way home?” Emma asks and I arch my eyebrow at her.

“Sure, but I’m taking you to get that arm checked out.”

“No. I want fast food, and I want to go home.” She demands.

“Baby, I’m worried that it’s broken. You’re clearly in pain. You’ve been cradling your arm against you since it happened.”

“I just need some Tylenol and a greasy burger. I’ll go tomorrow. After everything today, I just want to go home. Please?” She looks at me with pure exhaustion and almost seems like she might cry. I nod and put the truck in gear. I can't ever seem to tell her no.

“Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts and I’ll take you to the doctor.” I command and she promises.

After securing a bag full of greasy Mcdonald’s, I start making the way towards her house assuming she’d want to be in the comfort of her home. I plan on staying wherever she is, so I’m glad my grandparents took the dogs for the night.

“Where are we going? You missed the turn.” She points out.

“You said you wanted to go home so I figured you meant yours.”

“No. I want to go to yours.”

“Okay, Sugar.” I tell her as I make a u-turn to head back in the direction of my house with a small smile on my lips.

“What?” Emma asks.

“I just like hearing you say you want to go home and meaning my house. I figured you’d want to be in your own bed or something.”

She shakes her head. “Your house feels more like home to me.”

“It is baby. It’s our home.” I tell her as I tuck some hair behind her ear and her smile melts my heart.

After we get home and I explain that the dogs are with my grandparents, Emma takes some medicine before we tuck in to our greasy dinner. Is it really that tasty, or are we just starving from the events of the day? The Wizard of Oz plays noisily on the tv in the background but neither of us seem to be watching it, rather just using it as background noise while we eat.

Emma is quiet, likely processing everything that has happened so I just remain a silent presence as I let her sit in her contemplation, remaining close if she decides she’d like to talk.

I place a bag of frozen peas on her arm when she’s done eating and it startles her almost as if she didn’t notice me moving around beside her. She thanks me quietly as I elevate her arm on some pillows before I run my hands through her hair. We remain sitting in the living room until the movie credits are rolling on the tv screen. Emma is curled against me but seems uncomfortable. I ask her if her arm hurts and she just replies, “cramps”. Damn, in all of the madness today I forgot. This morning seems like it was a lifetime ago.

“Let’s go take a warm shower and get in bed, Darlin’”.

Emma nods and I help her up before tossing the peas back in the freezer. I shut off the lights and double check that the doors are locked before we head into the master bathroom and I turn the water on to get it warming.

“I’ll give you a minute. Need anything?” I ask and she just shakes her head.

I head back into the bedroom making sure I have all of the comfort items I purchased this morning ready for her. I pulled out one of my t-shirts and grabbed some panties from her bag before setting them on her side of the bed. I made sure she had some water and pain relief meds on the nightstand as well. I stripped myself down before knocking on the bathroom door to let her know I was coming back in. Emma was already standing in the hot stream of water so I joined her and wrapped my arms around her. Her bandage was taken off and sat on the bathroom vanity and this was the first look I had gotten of it since she got hurt. I gently placed her arm in my flat palm and looked at the blue, purple, and slightly yellow bruise that had formed along the top of her forearm.

“I’m okay.” She said as I stared at her arm and tried to reign in my anger towards that bastard of a human.

“You should see the other guy…oh wait.” She jokes and I can’t help but smirk. Before I can apologize again for not getting to her quick enough, she speaks again.

“Could you help me wash my hair?”

“Of course, Sugar. Let me.” I take her shampoo that she brought and left over here a few weeks ago and washed her hair before rinsing and conditioning it. While letting that sit, I washed her body as gently as I could. I noticed her knees were scraped but didn’t say anything about it, just gently cleaning them off. After rinsing her hair and her body, I quickly bathed myself before getting us out and wrapping her up in a towel. I attempted to wrap her hair up in a towel as well, but that ended up being more complicated than I realized. She smiled and asked for a moment of privacy so I waited for her in the bedroom as I threw on some boxers. Emma came out a moment later still wrapped in her towel and I quickly helped her put on some panties and my DILIGAF t-shirt that she loves so much. I re-wrapped her hand with the bandage that the EMT’s placed on it earlier today and made her promise that we would get it looked at tomorrow. She showed me how to brush her hair, claiming she could do it with her non-dominant hand, but I was adamant that she let me help her. I gently combed through the tangles over her long hair before settling her in bed with the hot water bottle on her abdomen before crawling in behind her to spoon her.

“Mmm. Thank you for the hot water bottle. And, everything else.”

“I’m just sorry you got hurt. I’ve replayed it in my head a hundred times at least and I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Baby. Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so grateful you were there.”

“What happened…when I went back inside the store? I’ve been trying not to ask but I just need to know.”

“Well, you went back inside and I started unloading the groceries into the truck. Once I got them all in, I went to put the grocery cart in the little return area. I didn’t see him, I just felt someone come up behind me and I tried to turn around but he wrapped his arms around me and told me to stay still. That’s when I knew. The second I heard his voice and felt his breath on my neck, I knew it was Colin. I told him to stop, not do this. All he said was, “I’m going to make you regret turning your back on me.” I noticed he was sort of backing me up away from your truck and that’s when I started really fighting him and screaming. You showed up a few moments later.” She explained.

My hands gripped tightly into fists as I thought about what happened next. His hands on her, Emma’s screams, my urge to get to her.

Emma placed her hand on top of mine before turning over to face me. I helped her move her hair away from her face before she kissed me. Lovingly, tenderly, appreciatively.

“I love you, Austin Syverson. You mean the world to me.”

“I love you more, Sugar.”

“Thank you for putting up with my baggage.”

“Thank you for putting up with mine.” I say as I stroke her cheek before kissing her forehead. Emma yawns and places her hot water bottle on the nightstand before snuggling into me and falling asleep. Her eyelids flutter in the moonlight that trickles in to the bedroom and I lay there admiring her strength while also running through every ‘what if’ scenario in my head. What if I hadn’t arrived in time and he had managed to take her? What if he had hurt her worse? What were his intentions by taking her? My brain gets carried away and I’m tempted to get up and get a beer, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving Emma alone after almost losing her. I lay there in the dark with the most incredible woman that I’ve ever met curled against my chest and thank God for letting her be okay before I finally drift off to sleep.

I’m awoken with a start at some point in the middle of the night, blinking the sleep from my eyes as I try and figure out what woke me. I hear Emma whimper and see that she’s having a nightmare. Usually it’s me with the nightmares, but this time she’s the one crying and curled in on herself in the fetal position.

“Sugar?” I gently try and rouse her.

“no, please no.” She mumbles and I flip the lamp on and scoop her up against me.

“Sugar, it’s Austin. You’re safe.” I tell her and her eyelids peel open, groggily.

She takes a deep breath as tears stream down her face. My heart somehow breaks even more.

I don’t know what to do or say so I just keep repeating that she’s safe and hold her until her crying calms down and she is asleep in my arms.

I lay in the dark cradling her as I try to keep my thoughts on my perfect girl, rather than that scum that I wish I had wiped off of parking lot to finish him off. I reach for my phone with my intentions clear. I know what I want. I have some research to do and now is the best time to start.

Part 15

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

126 notes · View notes

garbinge · 2 years ago

Text

Rescued

Jax Teller x F!Reader From these August Prompts: "Have a drink, relax." & For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Rescued Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write, young and fun Jax is my favorite lol. Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Angst, flirting, cursing, Unsers nickname lol, drinking. SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

The popping of your tire was the cherry on top of a shitty trip but when it caused you to lose control of the wheel and smash into the speed limit sign, that was the boiling point for you. Luckily, you weren’t too injured, the airbag managed to leave a cut on your face somehow and now on top of a fucked up car, you had a bruised face and ego. You had been traveling for hours, just trying to make it back home and everything was going left. Calling the operator was infuriating, all of the numbers you had to press just to get to speak to someone only for them to transfer you to someone else in the Charming operating department.

“I’m looking for someone to tow my fuckin’ car.” The tone you took was one of little patience.

“Well it’s a good thing you called the fuckin’ auto shop.” A voice with humor spoke on the other line.

“This a mechanic?” You said taken back. “Sorry, I’ve been playing tag with like 3 different operators.”

“Don’t worry about it, doesn’t make the top 5 of mean ass customers I’ve talked with.” The man on the line spoke. “So, you need a tow? You got a location?”

“Uh,” You looked around for a street sign, any landmarks to give an idea where you were when your eyes landed on the green reflective light. “Just off the West Side Freeway, Rt 5.”

“Alright, I’ll send the tow, gonna be $80.”

“Ofcourse it is.” You sighed and closed your eyes as the day continued to shit on you.

“We can workout a payment pl–” The voice was slightly concerned on the other line.

“No.” You cut him off. “I’m good for it, it’s just the idea that I’m about to drain it all from my wallet.”

The man on the other line let out a laugh. “We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

You thought you were lucky enough that the cops didn’t show up but they were right in front of the tow truck. The older officer was stepping out of the car before the tow truck even parked.

“Everyone alright?” The man spoke up, as he got closer you saw the name engraved on below his badge. Unser.

“It was just me, I’m alright. Popped my tired on the highway and the wheel decided to shake out on me.” You pointed to the ending of the story where your car sat plowed over the metal pole and sign.

“Your uh– you got a little banged up.” He pointed to his face where the cut on yours was. “You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance or an EMT to check it out?”

“I’m okay, officer. I really just want to get my car out of here and fixed.” As you spoke you pointed to the tow truck and the long blond haired man who was approaching from the truck.

Unser turned around and nodded to the man. “Jax.”

“Uncle Touchy.” Jax’s smile was from ear to ear as he walked past him and directly to you and your car.

“Hey I’m Jax.” The man nodded at you, keeping his smile the same until it fell a little as he took in your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was concerned with the cut on your face but his next sentence disproved that theory.

“I know you? You look familiar.” He said the frown deepening now.

“I’m not really from around here, so I don’t think so.” You weren’t really trying to go back and forth right now, your main objective was to just get the fuck out of here. That was until it hit you who he was. “Oh shit, you’re–”

“From the truck stop.” His smile grew back on his face.

“You’re all out of coffee.” Your annoyed voice was yelling out over the front counter of the convenient store down to the cashier who had already checked out.

“Then we’re all out!” The worker didn’t even bother to look at you while he dismissed you.

“This place is literally called Coffee and Go. That’s what I want to do. Get my coffee and go.” You spoke like it was obvious, which to your point, it kind of was.

Just as the cashier was about to yell back at you, now looking at you fully the person at the register stepped towards you. “Here, take mine, I should cut back on the caffeine anyways.”

Your eyes moved down from his young, handsome face to his hand that was extending out the coffee. That’s when your eyes saw the vest resting over his flannel, Sons of Anarchy, Vice President.

“I didn’t drink from it yet, it’s just got a little sugar in it but besides that it’s just regular black coffee.”

“You don’t need to do that.” You shook your head trying to dismiss the man’s generosity.

“I know but if I don’t, I think you’re going to kill that guy.” He leaned in to whisper to you. “And I don’t really want to be pulled in as a witness.”

“What can I say, I’m a bit of an unruly character without my caffeine.” You reached out to take the coffee. “I’ve been on the road for a while, thank you.” You genuinely said.

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

“I didn’t recognize you without the–” You shrugged your shoulders and brought your hands up to mimic holding the vest.

Jax let out a laugh. “Traded it in for the work shirt for the next 5 hours. Didn’t recognize you with the–” He pointed to his face similarly to the officer before but in more of a mimicking way since you had mocked his kutte.

“Guess we both went through a few changes since the morning.” You rolled your eyes.

Small town charm. That’s what this was, everyone knew everyone, people were chatty. As you pulled into the automotive shop you turned to see the line of bikes along the wall and the large reaper over the building diagonal from the garages. Maybe this was a different small town charm than you had thought.

You had lost track of your conversation with Jax as you stared at the bikers walking around.

“Never seen an M.C. before?” His voice cut through your thoughts.

“More like I know them too well.” You mumbled not expecting any reply from him but the confused look on his face was begging for more information as he placed the tow in park.

“My mom, years ago, was a member of Hell Babes before they patched over into Rebel Supply. It was a Women’s Motorcycle Collective so, probably a little different than this.” You pointed out the truck window and looked back at Jax who was a little surprised to hear the story from you.

“Or a lot of the same.” Jax’s eyebrows raised.

“We’ll never know that will we?” You raised your eyebrows back at him. The confused look filled Jax’s face again as he frowned at your statement before taking the keys out of the ignition. “You’re never gonna tell me the reapers' ways of working and I’m not going to tell you anything about the Rebels.”

“Yea, it’s a lot of the same.” Jax smiled at you. “Let me give the guys the keys so they can start working on an estimate for you.”

You stood in the middle of the lot, waiting for Jax to come back, taking in the details on each of the bikes, it was bringing back a lot of memories for you, good and bad. Luckily you didn’t get too far down memory lane before Jax was back next to you, now with his kutte over his work shirt.

“Come on, it’s gonna be a minute.” He guided you towards the tall black building that had the MC logo plastered everywhere on it.

As you stepped into what you assumed to be the clubhouse the smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose. It was definitely extremely different from what the Women’s Collective had as their stomping grounds, but what did you expect when it was a bunch of middle aged men in the middle of bumfuck California.

“Have a drink, relax.” Jax was calling out from the bar as he poured you a beer.

“The cop gonna come back and DUI test me?” You made yourself comfortable at the bar.

“Nah, Unser’s cool.” Jax smirked like he expected you to know what that meant in terms of the club.

“Uncle Touchy, you mean?” You asked in hopes for some explanation to the nickname that wouldn’t make you sick to your stomach.

“It’s just a joke, pisses him off, there’s no rhyme or reason behind it, don’t worry.” Jax laughed, taking a sip of his own beer.

“This is the second drink you’ve bought me today.” The glass raised to cheers him before you took a sip yourself. The cold beer was like medicine to your aching body, the cold chill relaxed you from not only the accident but the week you were having.

“Call it fate.” He chuckled.

“Call it Teller-Morrow Towing.” You rebutted.

“Speaking of, I thought the coffee was supposed to dial down the unruliness.”

“Only managed to have half the cup before my tire popped, not enough to keep the unruliness at bay.”

The two of you continued talking, chatting about your parents and clubs, but still managing to keep pretty much every detail a secret as you talked. Topics changed and there was never an awkward lull or search for another thing to bring up, things just came up naturally, where you grew up, your favorite places to travel, the fact that you stopped riding years ago and how Jax could never give it up, what you were doing coming through Charming.

It was crazy that an hour had already passed when one of the mechanics had stepped into the clubhouse.

“Jax! That tow you brought in, estimate is $670 for everything, we can have it done by tomorrow morning, just let us know when to get started!”

You closed your eyes as you heard the time and price. “That how you let all your customers know the breakdown?”

“Don’t let most of my customers come in here to wait out their estimate, truthfully.” He grabbed your glass and tossed it in the sink.

“Let ‘em know to get started.” You stood up ready to retreat out of the clubhouse and figure out your overnight arrangements.

“Will do, if you want, maybe uh, I can give you that full cup of coffee in the mornin’.”

He was so smug about asking you that it was obvious what he was saying between the lines.

“You askin’ me to stay the night, biker boy?” The two of you were now walking down the hallway to the door when Jax grabbed the door above your head and held it open for you.

“All about the hospitality, baby, and figured it’d be good to caffeinate you in the mornin’ so you’re not unruly to my guys.” He had a toothpick in his mouth now that was moving around as his tongue played with it.

“What the gentlemen, Jax.” You crossed your arms before agreeing, what the hell, you were just passing through, right? “Sure, I’ll bite. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, darling.”

#Jax Teller #jax teller x reader #Jax Teller x you #Jackson Teller #Soa #Sons of Anarchy #SOA fanfic #soa fanfiction #jax teller fanfic #jax teller fanfiction

306 notes · View notes