#LEAVE MY LIVER ALONE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

briefinquiries · 5 months ago

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Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table.

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case.

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer. His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle.

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying.

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit.

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them. Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery.

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out.

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest.

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time. His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home.

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket. You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push.

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another.

But you had a way of always pulling him back in. Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings.

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right? So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims.

“No race preference either,” Luke observes.

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?”

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds.

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works.

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask.

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off.

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers. Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway.

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone. “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread.

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests.

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder..

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead.

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.” You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die.

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor. Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows. You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer, but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view.

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see. The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun. “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly.

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him. “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.

Even if it means I don’t.

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer. “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun.

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers

But you ignore him.

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet.

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters.

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.”

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill.

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement.

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet. “I said get in!” he screams.

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated.

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered.

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe.

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him.

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you. That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else.

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it.

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you.

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present.

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours.

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.

Until you see him.

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut Your smile quickly melts away.

…

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer. He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.

But he ignores you.

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence.

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart.

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether.

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat.

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did.

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet. “What were you thinking?”

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head. “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying.

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.” She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more.

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start.

“Okay,�� you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently.

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words.

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space.

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this.

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.

“What did I do?” you plead.

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain.

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you. “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?”

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense.

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment.

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now.

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever.

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true.

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.”

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.”

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach.

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper.

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid angst

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limethefirst · 5 months ago

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Guard Dogs

pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine

warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor

summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you

a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, it’s not specified! Also I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my stories and all the kind words I’ve received!

Going out alone wasn’t something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasn’t a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.

Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, “Let’s go drinking tonight!”

Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.

It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didn’t treat yourself to this as much.

“Alright,” Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.

“Woah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!” Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, “Sign me up!” Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his ‘friend’ made, not in the mood to argue with him.

“Okay I’ll be back at 7,” You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.

“I need to go put on my good toupee!” Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.

Logan’s eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, “They’re all ugly don’t worry.” Wade flips him off, closing the door.

Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.

Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his “hair system” as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.

You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.

The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing he’d get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didn’t mind at all.

“Give me another drink,” Logan called to the bar keep.

“There you go just fucking up that liver again,” Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.

“Shut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-”

Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Woah there peanut, I don’t do pegging on the first date,”

“If this wasn’t a public bar I’d cut that oversized head of yours off,”

You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldn’t mind but tonight a nice song would’ve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.

You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking ‘Million Dollar Man’ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).

Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing by herself?” His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasn’t tall and he looked like he’d just woken up.

You gave a quiet sigh, “Oh I’m not alone,” You gave him a slight smile hoping he’d get the memo.

The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, “I don’t see anyone” He slowly took some more steps closer to you.

“How ‘bout now Bub,” Logan’s voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.

The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.

“We were just talking, why don’t you leave us alone?” He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.

“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,” Logan’s eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.

The man let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?”

“We’re gonna fuck you in the ass,” Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.

Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didn’t waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.

“Jesus Wade did you have to say that?” You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.

“Do not use my name in vein,” he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.

Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.

“We need to stop going out together,” you said looking at the street light.

“Let’s watch a movie at my place next time!” Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.

“Yea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,” Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.

“I think it makes for good team bonding!”

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #deadpool #marvel #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #x men #x reader #deadpool x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #xreader

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lex-the-flex · 4 months ago

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Eating Him Away

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the likes on everything! This might be my favorite version of Logan tbh. (And I'm aware of the perspective change in this).

The moment Logan laid his eyes on you, he instantly knew he had to keep you safe in the hellscape of the void. You didn't belong here. While you remained the same in Wade's universe, you were dead in Logan's.

Just seeing you alive and thriving meant the world to him. It made him want to worship at your feet.

From the moment you were captured by Cassandra Nova's men, he didn't let you out of your sight. Even to the point when you woke up tied up to him. Having your lips just inches from his made his heart race beneath the yellow suit.

"Hi." You whisper.

"Hi, darlin'." He replies low enough for Wade to miss.

"What happened?" You ask, looking around in the circular cage.

"We got captured and you fell asleep." Logan states.

A sly smile appears on his chapped lips and you glance down at them, only to feel embarrassed seconds later.

"You two gonna kiss or what? The suspense is killing me!!" Wade rebuttals from his spot on the floor.

"Leave them alone, Wilson. This is the most peace I've had in five years." Johnny interrupts.

"If I were too, it definitely wouldn't be with you in the same room, asshole." Logan answers, restraining his claws from coming out.

Feeling your brows scrunch together, your next words become hitched in the back of your throat, unable to come out. Glancing back at you, you can't help but look away, not wanting to give Wade anymore fuel to the kindling.

Following in Logan's direction, he leads you and Wade to an old and forgotten diner. Opening the door, the three of you step inside, and Logan keeps sniffing the air every few seconds.

"What are we doing here?" Wade asks.

"I smell food. Besides, I can hear Y/N's stomach growling from a mile away." Logan replies, already searching the cabinets for any kind of food.

Standing the middle of the diner, Logan almost instantly finds the jackpot: three cans of Spam. Tossing one to Wade, he joins you, and hands the second can to you. Touching his fingers with your own, you forgot how much his touch had on you. And it was the exact same for you.

"Thank you." You say, cracking the tin open.

Taking a few minutes to fill your empty stomachs, Logan can't seem to stay still. Knocking over countless bowls, cups, and other dishes, he frantically searches the tiny fridges and cabinets for something. Coming up empty, he furiously punches the stainless steel fridge, causing both you and Wade to jump.

"Fuck!" He shouts.

"What are you looking for?" Wade asks, recovering from the quick shock.

Discovering a small First Aid Kit below the register, Logan quickly opens the aluminum box, and finds two tiny bottles of rubbing alcohol compound.

"Oh, shit." He blurts out.

Walking towards you with the two blue and white mini bottles in his hands, both you and Wade begin to protest.

"No, no, no, no, that's rubbing alcohol. You don't want to drink--" He starts.

"Logan, please don't--" You advise.

But your words fall on deaf ears as he chugs the first bottle in one big gulp. Sighing in relief, Logan subconsciously leans closer to you before rolling the other way.

"Fuck that liver." Wade jokes.

Feeling ten times better, the three of you return to your quick snacks, and you take one of the empty seats at the counter. Glancing over to you, Logan can't help but admire how good your suit looks on you. The dark grey and green set of robes compliment every part of your body, from your hips to the tips of the combat boots.

Noticing this, Logan's light hazel eyes reflect off your e/c orbs, staring into his soul. Having this other version of you in the same room with him was eating away at him.

Standing from his spot at the booth, Logan walks up to you and takes you by the hand.

"Come with me." He orders.

Leading you into the back of the diner, you don't ask any questions, you just follow right behind him. Closing the office door behind you, you turn around to face Logan.

"Logan, what are you--?" You start, but you don't get very far.

Pouncing on you, Logan holds either side of your face, and frantically places a much needed kiss to your lips. Passionately moving his lips against your own, you let go of resisting and melt into him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan picks you up from your hips and gently sets you down on the desk. Guiding your legs around his waist, you run your fingers through his short brown hair. Moaning into your mouth, Logan longed to kiss you again. Just to have you in his arms once more made his heart soar.

Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" He declares.

"Too long?" You ask.

"Too long. It's been eating away at me." Logan repeats.

Hearing Wade knock at the door instantly kills the mood and Logan groans in disappointment.

"As much as I'd like to watch you two fuck, we really have to get going." He says through the door.

Holding your chin, Logan brings you to face him.

"Wanna grab a drink when all of this is over?" He asks.

"I'd love too." You reply with a shared laugh.

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

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megalony · 8 months ago

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Tiny Little Fighter

As promised, this is my new Evan Buckley imagine. Please let me know what you think.

If anyone would want it, I'm debating about making this into a little series. Let me know.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @shauna-carsley @dottirose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: After Evan and (Y/n) have their baby very early, Evan won't leave them alone in the NICU. He stays alongside his baby, making sure they're okay.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't wanna do this." The look in (Y/n)'s eyes absolutely broke Evan's heart. If people could die of heartbreak, he knew this is the pain that it began with. He knew he was on the verge of a heart attack with how distraught his wife was and the fact that there was nothing he could do to make this any better.

His lips smothered the top of her head and his hands shakily ran up and down her back as he tucked her closer to his chest. Each shaky breath he took against her hair made Evan's chest tighten and tighten until he was barely breathing at all, just gasping and panting against the top of her head.

"I know, baby. I know."

What else could he say? What else could Evan do other than stand here and hold her broken pieces together and try to keep himself in one piece? How could he do this when they were both pieces of a puzzle, starting to fall apart?

His back tensed and he leaned forward when (Y/n) bent her knees and pushed down like she was trying to make them both kneel on the floor. He felt her nose push against his sternum as she buried her face in his chest and groaned. She choked on a scream when another contration split through her pelvis and made her want to hunker down on the floor.

This was too early.

They weren't supposed to be in the maternity ward right now. (Y/n) wasn't supposed to be over halfway through labour right now. Not when she was barely twenty five weeks pregnant.

They had another eleven weeks left, bare minimum, until they should have to think about labour. They had another fifteen weeks until their actual due date. But here they were, waiting for this to be over with to see if their baby would be able to survive being born this early.

They didn't have any other choice.

Not when (Y/n) had developed pre-eclampsia which had gotten to the point that her blood was starting to shred and her liver was shutting down. If they didn't have the baby now and (Y/n)'s liver gave way, that would be it for her and for the baby. The only way for her body to be able to recover and get back to normal was for the baby to be born. This was her body's way of reacting to the baby.

It was affecting her liver which was on the verge of shutting down, her blood was starting to shred itself and (Y/n) had already been given a blood transfusion to try and keep her going. It was affecting her vision and now the baby was getting distressed.

Inducing labour was the only chance they had of (Y/n) recovering and of trying to take care of their baby.

"I think you're ready now. Let's sit you on the bed."

(Y/n) shook off the midwife's hands but when she tilted her head back and looked up at Evan through teary, spotty vision, she nodded. She didn't want anyone's hands on her but her husband. She only wanted his help. (Y/n) knew none of this was the midwife's fault or the hospital or the doctors. It wasn't her fault either, no matter how badly her brain was trying to tell her that she was doing this to herself.

But she didn't want their help. Their touch. Their comforting words that sounded cynical and condescending to (Y/n). All she wanted was Evan.

"Don't let me go," (Y/n) almost pleaded as she grabbed Evan's hand when he carefully eased her back down onto the bed rather than standing with her in his arms. She wanted him as close as she could get him and more so. He had to be right next to her, he had to be touching her somehow. (Y/n) wanted to feel his breaths mingling with hers and his touch on her skin.

Evan’s eyes softened and with the tears welling around his blue orbs, they looked like they were beginning to melt. He nodded and pulled the seat closer to the bed until his knees pushed uncomfortably into the edge of the bed. His hand stayed curled in hers and he moved his other hand to rub up and down her arm while the midwife got ready to assess her.

She said nothing as the midwife put a heartbeat monitoring clip on her finger and two more to her stomach to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. She tipped her head back into the pillow, wanting to smile when she felt Evan bring the back of her hand to his lips.

"I'd say you're dilated now. You can begin to push on the next contraction," The midwife's voice had an air of caution and sympathy in her tone because she could see her words made (Y/n) cry harder.

She didn't want to be doing this. Labour had barely been induced for four hours and already (Y/n) was ready to evict her baby.

Her baby wasn't going to be able to survive on their own. They wouldn't be able to breathe or regulate their temperature or feed properly at this stage. None of their organs would be developed enough to survive outside the womb. They would need to be in the ICU for weeks if they were going to survive this.

Silence fell over the three of them, save for the few sniffs and tears here and there, as they waited for the next contraction to hit. Evan tipped his head down and pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s arm as they waited, his hands holding hers tightly. When the next contraction came, (Y/n) pushed but stopped at the sound of one of the monitors. All their heads seemed to snap to check which monitor it was to know whose heart was now in distress. (Y/n) wondered for a moment if it was her own heart that was becoming frazzled due to how it seemed to flutter in her chest before beating harshly.

But it wasn’t her heart, it was the baby’s.

“What’s happening?” Evan questioned, absentmindedly tightening his hand around (Y/n)’s as he moved his free hand to press to her stomach. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the monitor that showed their baby's heartbeat which was suddenly slower than it was before the contraction.

“Baby is just a bit stressed, that's all. The heartbeat should stabilise in a minute.” The midwife responded as she watched the monitor showing the baby’s heartbeat and waited for it to pick back up. All of them sighed in utter relief when it started to mellow and go back to the rhythmic beat it had been a moment ago.

They knew the moment the baby was born, their heartbeat would fluctuate again and become uneven. Once they realised they were no longer in the womb and would have to breathe on their own, the baby would be in complete distress.

Evan turned his head back to look at the midwife when (Y/n)’s hands tightened around his own signalling she was having another contraction. He cringed when (Y/n) started pushing and her scream rebounded through his ears and made a shiver run down his spine. But he felt relieved that the monitor didn't scream out this time, the baby seemed stable. For now.

(Y/n) cried out when another contraction hit and pushed to sit forward with her chin tucked down into her chest.

She pulled Evan's hand up until she could press it against her chest and her eyes followed him as he got up from the chair and moved to stand as close as he could to the edge of the bed. He leaned over, curling his left arm around her shoulders while he pressed his lips to her temple.

She could feel Evan mumbling "It's gonna be okay," into her hair and the words were soothing, even if she didn't quite believe them.

Part of Evan wanted to let go of (Y/n)'s hand and move down to feather his fingers across her stomach instead. She didn't look like she was five and a half months along.

He had been so, so happy when (Y/n)'s bumps finally started to show and he could feel the baby kicking. Whenever they laid in bed, Evan had a hand constantly glued to her stomach and he was forever talking to the baby and kissing her tummy and waiting for movement. He thought he would have another three months of that.

Evan thought he would get to spend the next three months marvelling at how (Y/n)'s body changed and telling her how much he loved her expanding stomach. Not anymore. Something akin to a knife twinged in Evan's gut at the notion that (Y/n)'s stomach wasn't going to get any bigger than this.

Their baby would no longer be connected to (Y/n).

Whenever their baby kicked or wriggled or squirmed, Evan would actually see them doing it. He wouldn't feel those movements anymore; neither would (Y/n). They would watch a tiny, miniscule baby wriggling and fighting to stay alive; if they made t through this labour.

"Okay, the head's born now, well done. Take a breather, you're doing great."

Part of (Y/n) was desperate to smile when she watched Evan lean over her stomach as soon as the midwife spoke. He kept hold of her hand and his other hand stayed on her shoulder, but he leaned down to look at their baby.

Evan had delivered a few babies after years of being a fireman and nothing really shocked him anymore. But this was different. That was his own little baby, his own child that was coming into the world and there wasn't a sight that would ever match that. Seeing any other woman give birth was never going to make Evan's heart clench or send his stomach rocketing like this.

That was his baby. That was his tiny little fighter.

They shouldn't be that small. They shouldn't be that wrinkled. Labour shouldn't be going this fast or be this swift. Their baby shouldn't be born so small Evan feared they weren't going to fit in the palm of his hand.

He didn't realise he was crying again until he felt (Y/n)'s trembling hand reach up and her thumb swiped away the tear from his cheek. Tears of sorrow, more than joy, because this wasn't a joyous moment. It should have been. This should have been a day where Evan's ADHD had him bouncing off the walls with excitement. He should have been flying through the roof, anticipating the birth of his first child.

He couldn't find the will to be happy about this when this early meant his baby might not survive.

He hadn't even told anyone yet.

Evan thought that when (Y/n) went into labour, he would have everything sorted. He would have the maternity bag packed, the nursery sorted. He would call Maddie, then Bobby, then Eddie, right in that order to tell them all. Then he would call them as soon as the baby was born and ask them to come over.

The only person who knew (Y/n) was in labour was Maddie. She knew because she had been here just this morning to see (Y/n). And she had born witness to (Y/n)'s scream and Evan's breakdown when they were told they needed to induce labour now, for both their sakes. Maddie had gone home, anxiously cradling her phone to await any news and she hadn't told anyone. She couldn't. It felt like overstepping the mark.

But what would Evan say if this didn't go well? What was he going to do if he lost his baby? He couldn't tell that to anyone over the phone, but he wouldn't want them to witness him having a breakdown if he had to tell them face to face.

"That's it, push again (Y/n),"

"You're almost there, keep going sweetheart," Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s and pecked her lips before he moved round a little. He perched down on the side of the bed just behind her and leaned across so (Y/n) could lean her back against his chest. His arms cocooned around her waist and his fingers stayed oddly still against her stomach.

(Y/n) had never known him be so still in such a moment of unease and unknowing like this. She thought his hands would constantly be jittering and his foot would be tapping on the floor and his knees would be jerking up and down. But the only movement she could feel was him kissing the top of her head.

Tears tracked down (Y/n)'s face and she felt like she was on fire when she heard the midwife say that the shoulders were born. Then the arms.

It felt like she was being electrocuted and like her legs had been burned off at the thighs when all the weight was suddenly pulled down from her stomach. And she knew. She just knew that was it. She'd had their baby; they were no longer connected. Their baby was no longer safe and protected with (Y/n), they were fending for themselves now.

Her body slumped back into Evan and she couldn't hear whatever he said, even though she could feel his lips moving against her neck and his voice vibrated against her skin. His arms tightened around her waist in a comforting, broken hug as he held her tightly to his chest and started to sway them side to side.

Her shaking hands moved up to hold onto Evan's forearms that grounded her and kept her calm when she felt like she was about to disappear. She let her head flop back on his shoulder and her wet lips smothered his neck as her nails punctured into his arms.

It took (Y/n) a moment to realise that another midwife had already bustled into the room and both of them were tending to the baby laid between her legs.

"A-are they okay? Are they breathing?" Each word came out through a bubbling sob and (Y/n) was surprised any of them could make out a word she was saying.

But she hadn't heard a cry.

Tears streamed freely down her face as she clutched Evan's arms to her chest, letting him sway them from side to side to try and calm them both down. He had his chin digging into her shoulder and his lips against her neck, but (Y/n) could feel him crying against her skin.

"It's a boy."

"Is he okay?" Evan persisted when they didn't exactly receive an answer. She could be trying to calm them down, trying to tell them as dearly as she could that they had a boy, but he wasn't alive anymore. They had to know.

"We've got a pulse."

That was enough. That was more than enough. He might not be breathing or wriggling or kicking and they might not be able to hold him yet, but he had a heartbeat. That was all he needed so far. As long as the midwives could get him intubated and get him into the ICU, a heartbeat was what they needed to start with. That would do for now, that was enough right now.

"Would dad like to cut the cord?" The second midwife was leaning over the end of the bed and she looked over at Evan with something tender in her eyes. It almost made him wonder if she had been in this position before, if she herself had experienced a premature baby. The look in her eyes made Evan feel like they could relate to her.

When Evan looked down at her, (Y/n) nodded and managed to unlock her viper grip on his arm to let him move. She would be okay if he let her go, just for a little while. She felt him lean her forward before he gently sat her back against the pillows so he could shakily move round to the end of the bed.

His fingers briefly skimmed across (Y/n)'s ankle and up the back of her leg before he took the medical scissors from the midwife and tried to stop himself from shaking. She held the cord up where she had clamped it off and Evan cut it just like he had done at least three times before when he was on shift. But this was so much more intense, this was his little boy.

As soon as the cord was cut, Evan was left shaking, barely breathing as he leant over the end of the bed. His eyes glued to their initial midwife as she stole the baby from the bed and moved over to the incubator in the corner of the room. Evan knew in a minute or two, once his boy was breathing, he would be taken from them.

They wouldn't get to hold him, cuddle him or even touch him before he would be shipped off to the neonatal unit and a doctor would be assessing him.

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s legs which had previously felt numb until she felt Evan's fingers curling around the back of her ankle. He gave a little tug before his wide eyes were staring at her with a mix of emotions she could decipher.

(Y/n) shook her head, silently asking him what was on his mind because although she could usually read her husband like a book, in this moment, she had no idea what was going through his head.

"He- he's got a birthmark too." Evan's voice was so calm and quiet that it almost didn't sound real.

(Y/n) watched the way Evan let go of her leg so he could pat his cheek, indicating where he had seen the little patch of discoloured skin on their baby's cheek. Before his head was turning back towards the midwife, watching her intently as he started to shake, fuelling back up with adrenaline.

Part of Evan had been worried in the beginning. He worried that their baby would get lost or mixed up and switched. That the midwife would forget which one was his little baby or they would put the wrong nametag around his ankle or his little wrist.

If they didn't get to see their baby first, Evan wondered how they would know which one was their little baby and worry that the midwives might forget too. But that mark was an indicator.

It meant that Evan didn't have to panic about following the midwife like a shadow or keep his baby within his sights at all times. He would know which tiny, fragile baby was his.

(Y/n) swallowed harshly as she watched the midwife scribble Baby Buckley onto a wrist tag, along with the date and time of his birth.

They didn't even have a name for him yet. They thought they had another three months to come up with their favourite, agreed upon names for a girl or a boy. Now he was here and they didn't know what to call him. He was just going to be Baby Buckley until they could think of something suitable.

His birth had come so early that none of them were prepared for him.

***

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up in her eyes when there was a soft knock on the door and she looked to see who was walking in. She nodded and motioned for them to step inside when she realised it was Bobby and Athena.

Her eyes traced them up and down before locking on the small black duffle bag in Bobby's hand that she vaguely recognised.

"How are you doing?"

She reached up and looked her arms around Bobby's neck when he leaned down to hug her. And she did her best to force away the tears before they soaked into his shirt, not that she thought he would mind at all if she began to cry again.

"I'm okay." She thought she was. She hoped she was. (Y/n) couldn't comprehend many thoughts, feelings or emotions other than feeling disconnected.

It felt like she had been disconnected from the world, from her baby and from every emotional part of herself. All she wanted to do was sit and cry or try to sleep and pretend none of this was happening. The selfish part of her mind wondered why this couldn't have happened to someone else. Why did it have to be her and Evan? What had they done to deserve this?

"We brought you both some clothes from home, we thought you might need a few things." Bobby set the bag down in the corner of the room before he sat down in the chair beside the bed.

His eyes watched his wife as she took (Y/n)'s hand and perched down beside her on the bed.

Since Evan joined the station, they had become surrogate parents to him, and when he married (Y/n), she became another child to them. They didn't want to see either of them going through something like this and if there was anything they could do to help, then they would.

"Where's Buck?" Athena took a quick glance in the corner of the room, but the adjoining bathroom was empty meaning Evan wasn't in there.

Something soft washed over (Y/n)'s face as she brushed away the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She sniffed and tried to smile, giving Athena's hand a light squeeze as she sat up a bit straighter.

"He followed the midwife down to the neonatal unit last night… they uh, they couldn't get him to leave, so they had to let him stay. I think he spent the night in there."

(Y/n) had been more than a little surprised when the midwife came back to check on her late into the night and realised Evan wasn't with her. (Y/n) wasn't worried. She knew exactly where her husband had gone and why he hadn't come back yet. He was under the impression that if someone wasn't watching over their boy, something bad would happen to him.

Nothing they said would get Evan to move last night so after they gave up, one of the nurses had draped a blanket around him when he fell asleep next to the incubator.

He had come back to see (Y/n) this morning and make sure she was okay before heading back down. He knew (Y/n) would be down soon and neither of them would be moving very far away from their boy.

The only reason (Y/n) wasn't there now was because of all the IVs she had been on and the nurses monitoring her. They were making sure her liver function was picking back up, taking constant blood samples to check and to make sure her blood was returning to a healthy state and taking enough oxygen. Being separated from her baby really had made (Y/n) feel better, despite how it had ruined her, mentally.

"And how is the little guy?"

Bobby had shed a few tears early this morning when he had been in the middle of cooking breakfast and suddenly got a phone call from Evan. He hadn't expected to have Evan crying down the phone, saying (Y/n) had given birth already and now he had a little boy.

As soon as he told them, Athena and Bobby were getting ready to come down here and make sure both of them were okay.

Bobby knew Eddie and Chris would be coming down this afternoon after Chris finished school. And Hen and Karen said they would give it a few days before they came to visit, while Chimney and Maddie would be here almost every day at some point.

"He's okay, they got him stable on a ventilator and a feeding tube… they said he's stable at the moment."

It had been lovely that the nurses kept coming in every hour or so to give (Y/n) an update until she could go and see her little boy. They told her how well he was doing, how he settled almost straight away when they got him all hooked up to the ventilator and monitors. He seemed to be very settled and stable at the moment and that was all that they could ask for.

And (Y/n) was desperate to go down and see him.

Tiredness ebbed away in the corners of Evan's eyes and at the back of his mind, but he tried to push it to one side and ignore it.

His head tilted to one side and the first hint of a smile began to form on his lips when he looked down. His left arm curved and bent over the top of the incubator while he bent his left leg forward and stretched his other leg out behind him to keep himself supported. His upper body leaned forward and he leaned his head down until his nose was almost touching the plastic separating him from his little boy.

For what had to be the tenth time this morning, Evan carefully slid his right hand through the small circular opening in the side of the incubator.

His fingers skimmed across his little boy's chest, just a small, delicate touch that was barely there. Evan couldn't find it in himself to be comforted by the feeling of his little boy breathing steadily like this. Not when he knew it was the machine that was making him breathe.

As soon as that tube was removed from his nose and he was breathing on his own, Evan knew he would feel a lot better.

He leaned his cheek on his left arm and trailed his fingers higher until they brushed the newborn's cheek that was so soft but wrinkled that it made Evan shiver.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a premature baby this small or this close up in person. Sure, he'd seen a few pictures from friends or people on calls who said they'd experienced something like this. But Evan had never touched a baby so small and early on like this.

It was strange.

It was unnerving to think that if he put both hands in the incubator, his son would barely fit in the palm of his hands. He only weighed three pounds. Evan had never seen a baby so small and lightweight. He was like a doll.

"It'll be better when you're out of here, you know. That nurse said in a few days, maybe a week, we can hold you. I'm starting to get desperate," Evan managed a smile as he trailed his hand back down towards the newborn's hand that was clenched into a tiny fist.

He brushed his thumb against the back of his hand and tried to be careful as he delicately unfolded his fingers. Evan's fingertip barely fit against his son's palm but he refused to let go or flinch or squirm away. This was his boy, his baby, and he wanted some sort of contact.

Evan wanted him to know that someone was with him and watching over him.

He knew realistically that it didn't make much difference. This incubator was here to make his boy feel like he was back in the womb and to get him to grow and develop. He wasn't going to know or care if someone was watching over him or if his dad was keeping an eye on him or not. But it comforted Evan to know that someone was with his son. It comforted him to be able to touch his newborn and show him that he wasn't on his own.

He stroked his thumb against the back of his hand, noting how his son's skin was like sandpaper. A bit gritty, somewhat coarse and extremely fragile. If Evan applied too much pressure he might break his skin.

"But you have to stay in here for a while."

Evan didn't like this. He had imagined the moment he and (Y/n) had their baby, so many times. And not once did Evan consider the thought of having to have their baby prematurely like this. He thought once their boy was born, they would hold him straight away, get some pictures and just spend the day with him in their arms.

He didn't think he would be separated by a plastic box and wires and tubes or see his baby wear the smallest version of a nappy that the hospital had, specifically provided for premature babies.

Evan never thought about having to wait possibly weeks until his baby would be healthy and strong enough to breathe on his own and feed without a tube going straight into his stomach. He didn't think he would have to bide his time and wait until he could hold him for the first time.

And Evan knew for definite that until his boy was in his arms, he wasn't moving from this spot. Evan wasn't leaving this hospital for more than an hour to get something to eat or get a change of clothes. He was staying right here, watching over his boy.

"I can start telling people now, about you. I told grandad Bobby, and auntie Maddie this morning. And uncle Eddie. It's strange, being a dad, now that you're already here."

It still wasn't sinking in properly that this was real.

He couldn't quite get his head round the fact that he could now call himself a dad. He could tell people he had a baby boy. This little life right here, that wouldn't fit in his hands, was already alive and here.

Evan was responsible for this precious life that he was afraid he was going to lose.

This was his boy. This was the little person he was going to be cradling at night and settling to sleep and feeding and washing and dressing him up and taking him down to the station to proudly show him off. When he was better, of course.

"I wish I could take you out of this. I just wanna take you home with me and mummy." As he spoke, Evan's fingers twitched and pressed a little harder into the small fist he was cradling.

He was desperate. He felt like a bank robber plotting some great heist. He wanted to snatch his son and take him home and make a remedy to rectify all of this. If he could change things, he would. Evan would keep (Y/n) and their baby safe and take them home and change this so they had him when it was safe to do so. He wanted his little boy in his arms. He wanted him cuddled up into his chest and snuggled against his bare skin and held as close as he could get him.

Evan wanted his boy to know what a cuddle felt like. He wanted to be able to give him a kiss and hold him and let him know how much he was loved already.

"God, I- I haven't even got your crib ready yet." Tilting his head up, Evan moved his free hand and dragged it across his face and down his jaw.

He hadn't got anything set up.

They had barely started to buy clothes and blankets and bottles. And the crib was still flat-packed in the corner of the nursery that wasn't even painted or decorated yet. They hadn't done any of that. They thought they had another ten to fifteen weeks left before their baby would of made an appearance.

Statistically speaking, Evan knew he still had quite a few weeks left until he could take his baby home. He had four, maybe five or more weeks of visiting his boy in here. And when he and (Y/n) weren't here at the hospital, they were going to be decorating because being home without their baby would drive them insane.

Evan could see it now. By this time next week, the nursery would be finished and they would have everything ready in anticipation of taking this little bundle back home with them.

"You weren't meant to arrive this early, you know. I thought I had three months to get everything ready for you. I guess I'd better sort out the nursery soon, hm? Ready for when me and mummy bring you home."

He finally released the newborn's miniscule fist so he could drag his fingertips up and down his side like he was trying to tickle him.

Evan found it fascinating to look at the tiny nappy they put on his son. It didn't look right, being so small and compact and seeing such tiny legs sprouting out which only looked the length of Evan's index finger. And when his eyes trailed up to look at his son's small head, he was relieved that his boy now had a little lime green cap on to help keep him warm.

Evan didn't want anyone removing that cap. Not when he knew that was where the IV line had gone.

Evan had almost thrown up when he watched the nurse try and fail to find a suitable vein in his son's arms and she couldn't find one in his legs either which were like sand paper. She only found a good vein in the side of his head and Evan hated it. He hated seeing that needle puncture through his delicate skin and see the thin tube be taped to the side of his head so it wouldn't accidentally be torn out.

He was glad the cap covered the IV line which could only be seen popping out the end of the cap behind his tiny ear that was smaller than Evan's thumb.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone, mister. I'll stay with you."

Just as he spoke, Evan felt a pair of arms circling around his waist and a familiar face pressing into his back just beneath his shoulder blades. His lips curved into a grin and he slowly slid his hand from the incubator so he could reach down and hold onto (Y/n)'s wrist.

"Hi baby, you okay?" He twisted his body so his left hip was pressing against the incubator, allowing him to weave his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist and tug her closer.

She happily tucked herself into his chest with her cheek pressing against his sternum so her eyes could focus on the incubator in front of them. The feeling of Evan's hand feathering up and down her hip and the feel of his lips against her temple faded out when (Y/n) looked at her little boy.

She hadn't managed to get a good look at him last night when he was born. But as she stared down at him, she realised Evan had been right this morning.

He was beautiful. He had a circular birth mark on his right cheek like a splotch of paint had been dropped onto him. His nose was tiny and rounded at the end, obscured only by the breathing tube taped into his nostril.

"Hm. How is he?"

"He's okay. The nurse will be back round soon to do some checks." Evan spoke against the top of (Y/n)'s head, breathing into her hair while he leaned back so she could slouch against his chest.

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) gently pressed her chin into Evan's chest so she could look up at him.

He had dark circles beneath his eyes and a hazy look in his pupils, showing off his desperate need for sleep. But the lazy smile on his lips was enough to make (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat and her stomach flood with adrenaline. She felt his hand move to run up and down her back while his left hand curled into a fist and propped his cheek up.

The way he slouched and grinned tiredly but endearingly made (Y/n) smile and attach her lips to his neck.

"You're gonna be living here for the next few weeks, aren't you?" Her words were soft and her tone was even softer, melting along the edges while she smiled against his skin and grazed her teeth dangerously close to his throat.

She could see it already. The nurses would all know Evan by next week. He would become part of the furniture, they would get used to him and weave around him to do their checks and daily tasks. They would have to stop Evan from intervening and trying to take over. They would be showing him how to change the tiny nappies and show him how they were feeding his boy and how they washed him while he was this small and tender.

Evan would become part of their routine, their staff team. Someone they couldn't avoid or get rid of, not until they discharged his son.

"Oh yes."

"Hm, good. Me too." (Y/n) nudged her nose against his jaw until Evan tilted his head down to meet her halfway in a kiss.

She kept her left arm looped around his torso but she stayed still and compliant as Evan held her right hand. He slowly moved her hand when their lips finally broke apart but stayed so close that (Y/n) could feel each breath he took like Evan was giving her his every ounce of oxygen.

Her eyes drifted to the side when Evan slid their joined hands through the small opening in the incubator and grazed her fingertips along their son's hand.

"Hear that? Me and mummy are staying here until we can take you home. We're not leaving without you."

#evan buckley #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #evan buck buckely #bobby nash

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seaslugfanclub · 10 months ago

Note

bestie, beloved mutual, Neptune, I have for real been getting hit on at work by creepy older men and sometimes women multiple times a day, so I was wondering if you could do the more romantically inclined villains witnessing y/n having to deal with several of these people within a short amount of time? You could do any writing style that comes to mind, this is just my way of coping :D ily!!(platonic)

{if this is out of your comfort zone, please message me and kill me :)}

Omg I am so sorry you have to deal with that, as someone who’s had the same experience, I totally understand your frustration. Hang in there pookie ❤️

Villains reaction to (Y/N) being creeped on

TW: old man being creepy/harassment (stay safe everyone)

—————————————

During their time at Disney Parks, the Villain’s realized they aren’t the most evil people there

There was this older park attendant working in the same branch as (Y/N) and of course, in typical creep fashion he. would. not. leave. (Y/N). alone.

When they clock in for work “Good Morning (Y/N), I was thinking about you last night.”

During (Y/N)’s lunch break, he’d try to sit across from them. “I saw some kid spill her drink all over you, I have an extra shirt in my locker if you’d like to come with me and get it.”

God, even when they’re both supervising interactions with the Villains “I noticed that new Mickey Mouse pin on your chest, I should call you ‘my little Disney girl’”

All of this was enough for the Villains to notice, and if they’re existence wasn’t dependent on Disney, they would’ve flayed this guy the moment he made eye contact with (Y/N)

Each Villain has seen at least one instance of (Y/N)’s coworker hitting on them, and they all have their own idea of how to deal with the creep

Hades wants to tie the creep to the top of the magic castle and let the seagulls eat his liver

Maleficent is shining up her collection of medieval torture devices

Frollo wants him flogged

Facilier is currently sewing up a voodoo doll, all he needs is some of the old man’s hair

Scar is scheming ways to make his hyenas mauling the man look like an accident

Clayton, Gaston, and Sykes just want to shoot the guy

But for now everyone makes sure that (Y/N) isn’t alone with the guy, something (Y/N) appreciates more than anything

When (Y/N) come teary eyed to the Villains, you know damn well they’re gonna be treated like royalty.

Hook cooks the their favorite meal as Hades brings his best jokes to take their mind off being harassed

Cruella actually understands what (Y/N)s going through, having been a female in the male dominated fashion industry during the 50’s

“Chin up now dear, don’t let some man-thing get to you. Heavens know I had my fare share of degenerates when I started out my illustrious career!”

Even though they can’t physically touch the creep, it’s not a surprise that the man eventually disappeared quit

Something about a series of unfortunate circumstances that coincidentally happed in progression that lead him to have a mental breakdown and leave on short notice

When news of the creeps resignation, all the villains were like:

There are only two reasons the Villains could get along. 1. It’s for (Y/N) 2. The destruction of someone’s life.

(Y/N) has scary dog privileges, but the scary dogs are middle aged magicians

—————————————

Hope you enjoyed! Try not to let those old creeps get you down, they’re miserable folks who don’t deserve the time of day! (And for real a man called me his ‘little Disney girl’ when he noticed my Disney pin…. I’m 20..)

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #disney hades #captain hook #dr facilier #claude frollo #malificent #cruella de vil

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vixen7243 · 9 months ago

Text

Undivided Attention: Gaz

Gaz X AFAB!Reader | TF141 X AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | John Price |Ghost

MDNI!!

Y/N was Task Force 141's combat medic, a sweet little thing that barely ever since joining had seen the light of day in a fight, they sheltered you to the base and that was it, the most action you had seen ever was on the rare occasion that Price okayed you to get on the helicopter with Nikolai to pick them up and that was it. At first Y/n was unbelievably annoyed with them when they had started developing feelings for you and started to slowly shield you from the tainted things in the world, or so they say but whenever they would throw that stupidly lame excuse around in front of you a hearty laugh would erupt from you. "Tainted world? Guys, the amount of dead bodies that I've had to leave in my wake before joining you all is enough to fill hell alone. I'm parted of that tainted things in this world."

The angry glances and scoffs that followed your attempt with reasoning with them made you hold your tongue after John's following statement. "You won't ever be apart of that world anymore, not while I'm still breathing."

It had taken a while for the team to warm up to you, the thought that General Shepard was the one to specially assign you to them didn't sit well with them till they had seen the back handed way you would openly shame him and degrade him with annoyance and slight humor gleaming in your eyes. "No wonder you have been working so well with them, rabid dogs always know how to stick together." Barking a laugh at him you made quiet the spectacular come back on his embarrassing attempt to hit on you and get you into his bed, only for you to make an impotent comment to him and his age. After which, with the brightest red face, being sure to always avoid your presence whenever possible. After that, Soap, Gaz and even John eased up on their ignoring and slanted looks, having small talks with you eventually enjoying long chats with you late into the night if you or them, couldn't sleep. Ghost still gave you hard stares every once in a while but he would at least respond back to you when you asked him anything or talked to him.

Somewhere along the way of slowly easing you out of the field and keeping you at the base, the men had even started leaving lingering touches, longing glances and sweet nicknames that would make your stomach flutter. It was one late night in John's office, you were yet again up late with him, mostly keeping him company, he sat at his desk, papers scattered, his bourbon abandoned long ago while you were insisting he drink tea after 7 if he needed to drink something, this being better for his liver. You sat in a chair on the other side of his desk, legs kicked up while you read a book from his mini library, bored mostly but you always were curious of the books he read so you pushed through, a night that was the same as any other when you would sit in his office, the sound of the clock ticking, his pen scratching along the papers and the occasional turn of a page from you. Finishing the last page you slammed the book shut, making John look up at you, stretching back into the chair you groaned loudly, "Good lord Captain, can't you read mor entertaining books? Maybe ones that also have a happy ending, thought I was going to fuckin cry, why do authors always kill the character that draws out the best in other characters?"

John set his pen down as he also leaned back cracking his back as he settled in, "You still finished the book, I would say it was entertaining enough. Would you rather I read one of your books this time maybe?"

A blush dusted your cheeks as you thought about your stash of books in your room that you kept locked in a footlocker, they were definitely dirty and maybe more sick minded than what John was used too. "Uh, no, we'll stick to your books, you definitely couldn't handle my books." A small chuckle left your lips, a smile coming up thinking about how John might blush at some of the things you've read, or even are currently reading. You wonder how he would even react to knowing that you read about girls getting absolutely destroyed in bed, so sore they can't even barely move after, even passing out because of how good it feels. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance up noticing that he was watching your lip.

"You don't think so?" You watched has his hand ran over his beard that he hadn't gotten around to trimming, or more or less you haven't, he had you take up the dutiful job of keeping his facial hair trimmed and kept up, you sometimes sitting in his lap, doing your absolute best not to grind near his crotch when seated. "What do you read then? Enlighten me." Looking away from him you tried to think if you should lie or make up an excuse and leave, to embarrassed not to tell him the truth of the filth that you read. Hearing him clear his throat, you glanced up through your lashes watching as he pointed to his lap. You had gotten so used to sitting in all their laps, your ass barely ever sat the seat of a proper chair or couch, especially in the rec room, Soap and Gaz loved to pull you up into their laps, their hands massaging your thighs or back as your fingers massaged their scalps, necks or shoulders. Ghost sometimes would push you to one side of the couch, throwing himself down, resting his head in your lap while your fingers played with his blonde hair, you hadn't gotten a chance to see his face but he does now wear sometimes a surgical mask, black. Getting up you made your way to him, sitting in his lap, feeling like a little doll, you belonged to all of them, you knew that, they knew it. As soon as you straddled his lap, his hands crept up and down your sides and thighs, you were trying to find the words you wanted to use to get yourself out of this but looking into his eyes, you were stuck.

That night, through soft words, guided affection, and encouraging embrace, John set claim to you, later in the morning notifying the rest of the lads you walked out to the rec room Gaz and Soap the first up and right in front of you like puppies. You all had a very long chat about boundaries and limits, safe words and commitment that morning. After all was aired out, you were officially locked down to the base, and eventually, surprisingly fast just accepted it.

Soap was the handsyiest, even around base, he always had his arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck, there was no reining him in, this was him holding back. In the rec room, he would beg you to cuddle on the couch, which would lead to cockwarming, then eventually down right fucking, he loved having you around him, you did nothing but praise him, words he barely ever heard but yearned for. You handed them out to him like candy, without a second thought, sometimes admittedly yes, you should have told him to stop, not in public, no PDA but god, his puppy eyes always made your heart clench, you just couldn't say no to that face, the bastard.

Ghost was more reserved, having to be careful do to him being a superior officer, as well as John. That's not to say that he didn't follow you around the base when Soap wasn't glued to your hip, whenever he found his chance, he would stick to you, happy little glances his way making him preen. Getting you to the rec room where you two could be slightly more open with affection, Ghost was almost, almost unrecognizable with his little whispers, your praises making him blush, his softened eyes quietly begging for more of your attention. Once he has you in his room, god, he has you pinned under him, sometimes even holds you above him, just begging for more praise, his voice uncharacteristically cracking from emotion, your gentle hands smoothing over scars that make him flinch, whining as he thrusts into you, body breaking as you just keep giving him everything, telling him that he deserves everything, even forcing him to say he deserves this, as you kiss his body gently, caressing him, handling him as if he was the finest piece of glass that could break from even a breath. You really did enjoy giving Ghost your attention, especially when you knew at times it was helping him heal wounds that he refused to ever heal, he was your delicate flower, even if to all them, you were theirs.

John got you most nights and mornings due to how busy he was, it was unspoken but agreed upon, you slept in his bed, unless one of the others truly needed you after a bad day, or dream. Sometimes when he could spare a moment in the day away from the confines of his office and work, he sauté you out, like his own little personal mission, and you would go back with him to his room, or his office, which ever was the closest. After making sure the door was locked he would hold you, your words ringing in his soul as you held him tightly, whispering the sweetest love you could offer him that wouldn't make him rebuttal that he was too old for you, that he was being selfish in holding you the way he does. That if he was a better man, half the man you praise him to be, he would stop his advances, let you go, close himself off again, but he couldn't he was filth, worse than filth for keeping you so close. You would hush his negativity with kisses, massages and words so sweet you would see the broken captain that tried so hard to stay strong for his team, for you. You held him together as he found the warm and love he didn't believe he deserved inside you.

Gaz, sweet, patient, caring Gaz, he let you be, he never followed you, never looked for you, he gave you space. He knew you would come to him, you always do, you always make sure to divide up your days for all of them, giving them all the attention and love you could possibly offer them while trying to give yourself some in small increments whenever possible. Gaz watched as you would coddle Soap, giving in to the grown mans pleas of just the tip before absolutely destroying your little cunny on the couch, both of you spent and panting when Ghost comes in to lecture Soap on keeping that to his room. While also noticing on the rare occasion when Ghost wouldn't close his door all the way, seeing as he begs under you, quiet tears slipping down his lieutenants cheeks, your sweet words and encouraging praise breaking the man down even more before the two of you flip over, Ghost's head resting over your heart, the both of you taking a short nap in each others embrace. Seeing when his captain would take you to his office, and then hear him confined in you his fears, failures and short comings, all which you counter softly, Gaz would walk away hearing his Captain break down with you as well, before he's sure, as you had done with Ghost, hold him.

Gaz was patient, but to a point. For lords sake, he was a man too, he had needs, desires, problems, and he was apart of this team. Whenever he would notice in the past fortnight that you were making your way to him, his body would tense, a pent up of emotions flooding him, ready to be released into your caring embrace only for you to be dragged off by one of the others. Never, not once did he ever speak up with his annoyance, or aggravation, he kept quiet, waited, but, today was it, he couldn't be patient, or your good boy while Soap was dragging you away from his path to take you to his room. Gaz stood up abruptly and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, "Damnit no, it's my bloody turn with her, the lot of ya keep out my room for the night." Huffing ignoring their questioning gazes, not quite used to Gaz having that kind of tone, he carried you to his room slamming the door shut and locking it before setting you on his bed gently, he wasn't trying to take his annoyance out on you truly but he was at his limit.

"I'm sorry Kyle."

"Not you that should be apologizing, come here." Kyle got up into the bed after kicking his boots off, waiting for you to do the same as you curled up into his side, resting your hand on his chest, head over his heart listening to it pound heavily. There was a beat of silence as you stayed on his side before pushing up slightly and looking into his eyes.

"Talk to me, you have me all night I won't go anywhere."

Kyle let loose everything, everything he was feeling, had been holding in, the things that had been happening, people that had been pushing him, his desire for you, and finally he broke down to his loneliness of being without you for so long. You listened, unjudging as he started to fall silent, bring your hand up to his cheek you cupped it as you kissed his other cheek lightly, the soft look in your eyes making his heart wrench, he really did miss having you in his arms. You reassured him, changing positions as you cradled his head into your lap, breaking down everything he told you, lifting up his soul with your loving gentle touch, words lighting up his world.

After a comfortable silence befell the both of you, Gaz turned squeezing your thigh, while he moved your body where he wanted, slotting himself between your thighs, groaning as he dragged your body down the pillows. He kissed your stomach as he undid your pants and dragged them down your legs, kissing and nipping your thighs and ankles before going back down and nudging your underwear to the side laying a soft kiss to your clit. "Kyle" Wrapping your fingers into his curls you moaned, feeling his smirk against your cunny as his tongue darted out and dragged up your slit before he started grabbing at your shirt and pushing it up. Taking it from him you slightly pushed up and tugged your shirt off, feeling him moan into you you flinched as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. Feeling your juices start to coat his lips and drip down his chin he sat up and pulled his shirt off, guiding his hand back down tugging on your underwear while undoing his belt and pants. Tugging on your underwear you kicked them off wrapping your legs quickly around his waist when he freed his aching cock, wrapping your arms around his shoulders you kissed him, your tongues sliding into each others mouth, reexploring each others bodies, his hand groping, mapping, feeling your body under him, his cock bobbing at your entrance, pearly beads of precum dripping onto your clit.

Pulling back, he looked between your bodies, gripping the base of his cock before lining himself up, and pushing in slowly, giving short, slow thrusts as you squeezed the back of his neck moaning into his skin. When he bottomed out inside of you the both of you groan, he was slotted in right at your cervix, fixing his position, he set either hand on each side of your head before pulling back just enough to where his tip was resting inside and then slamming back into you. Setting that pace, the neither of you could hold your moans back, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing, carrying out into the hall. Reaching your hand down you skimmed your fingers over your clit rolling it between your fingers, your back arching up, and your walls clamping down onto Kyle's cock, your orgasm washing over you quickly. Kyle fucking you through your first one smirking down at you, "First one, many more to go gorgeous."

Kyle pulled back and grabbed your hips turning you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up before sliding back in, your sensitive walls fluttering around his cock, a whimper sliding out of your mouth, his pace was quick and harder. You were sure that by the end of the night, your cervix had to be bruised but god, it was feeling amazing and you would welcome the arch for the following days. Kyle grabbed a fist full of your hair before pulling back, your back arching deliciously, pushing up onto your elbows you cried out when you felt his tip sliding against your gummy spot making your toes curl and a broken groan fall from you as you gushed around him for the second time, a cry fall out of your lips as he continued to pound into you. "Kyle, fuck, I-I can't..."

Smiling he pulled out and turned you over, pushing your knees up to your chest, both legs thrown over his shoulder and he guided his cock back in, "One more for me gorgeous, I know you can do it, come on." Crying out he relentlessly pounding into your swollen cunny, pushing his forehead against yours, sweat falling from him to you mixing with your own, your skin stuck together, your cum connecting the two of you when ever he pulls out for a moment before he pushes back against you.

Feeling him twitch inside of you, you kissed him, massaging his back and scalp feeling his hips stutter when you started, lifting your head as much as you could, you whispered sweet praise into his ear, your voice hoarse from crying and moaning. Kyle couldn't hold back, slamming his hips back into your sweet spot he pushed the both of you over the edge a groan mixed with a whimper pushed out of his chest while you cried out using whatever strength you could must to hold him as close as possible.

Slowly pulling out, he rolled beside you pulling you into him, both of you smiling exhausted, his hands rubbing your lower back and kissing your forehead. You intertwined your legs, and rubbed the sides of his neck before scratching the base of his head humming. The moment was sweet and quiet between the two of you, content with just the presents of the other. You had fallen asleep after a moment, Kyle figured he would be nice and let you rest for a few before you woke you up with his head between your juicy thighs, and his fingers restuffed deep inside you. Besides, the night was young, you guys could rest for a bit.

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John Price |Ghost

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