#feels like needles are piercing my skin. and I sure do mind it!

[autisticlee]

it's ridiculous how many people recommend mindfulness to me

I don't think I need to practice mindfulness when i'm acutely aware of every drop of water that hits my skin in the shower and every sound that exists within hearing distance all at once with the inability to ever turn that awareness off (without it resulting in a severely dissociated state)

[navybrat817]

It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects while standing out in the snow and meets an angel... you.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Slight angst, Bucky remembering the past, instacrush of sorts, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: For @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge: the first day of snow. May do a few more ficlets for them ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he was happy to see snow. It reminded him too much of that fateful day on the train. The snowflakes falling from the sky was as if he was falling again, this time in slow motion. The crystals were beautiful, but fragile. They could easily break or spell doom for people who weren’t careful. And it was cold. Very cold.

He rubbed his metal arm absentmindedly under his coat. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine warm flesh instead of an instrument of destruction. Maybe he would’ve gotten a tattoo to honor his unit or family. The needle piercing his skin would’ve been pain he welcomed instead of the pain he didn’t ask for others to inflict on him. He didn’t just lose his arm when he fell. He lost himself.

The life of Sergeant Barnes ended, and the Winter Soldier began.

Tilting his head toward the sky, he couldn’t remember why he went outside to begin with. Maybe the bitter cold would freeze over the gaping mental hole in his heart long enough that he’d stop bleeding. Or maybe he wanted to feel the sharp wind blowing in his face to prove that he was still alive and standing. That no matter how many times the world knocked him down, he’d get up again.

But, God, why did it have to be so cold?

And why did he have to face it alone?

“Hi!”

Snowflakes gently fell around you and made you shine like the brightest star in the sky. So did your smile. It was so blinding he almost looked away, but he was afraid if he did so that you’d disappear.

A beautiful voice drifted to his ears and he was certain his heart stopped, but not in a way that made him afraid. Turning toward the source of that sound, he found himself staring at you. And his heart never beat faster.

Where did you come from? Were you an angel who landed safely from heaven? Did angels exist? He was ready to become a believer.

And it was the first time he felt warm all day.

He grudgingly tore his gaze away to make sure you weren’t looking at someone else, but he was the only one on the sidewalk. “Hi,” he croaked.

“Do you live here? I’m moving in,” you said, nodding to the building behind him. “Figures the day I do would be the day it snows and no one can make it out here to help,” you added teasingly when he didn’t answer right away.

He was too captivated by you to speak.

Blinking and telling himself not to gawk at you like a creep, he then noticed the box in your hands. “Yeah, I do,” he said, his feet moving on their own accord. “Can I help?” he asked, offering to take the box. Any excuse to continue to be close to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you smiled, making him lose his breath. “I really appreciate it, um…”

“Bucky. I’m Bucky,” he said, wishing he could shake your hand.

You gave him your name as a snowflake touched the corner of your mouth and melted. He no longer wanted frost over his heart. He wanted your warmth to fill his heart instead. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he smiled back, spotting the small truck nearby. He understood why the weather might keep people away, but having to move by yourself? He didn’t want you to freeze or risk you falling with the many trips. “And, listen, if you need help with more of your stuff, I have time.”

“Really?” The next smile you gave him was a bit shyer than the previous, but was just as beautiful. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he promised.

You briefly touched his left hand, and he could blame the gasp on the chill in the air if you asked. He didn’t have to close his eyes to imagine the warmth. It moved from his fingertips to his shoulder and he wondered if you really were an angel.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.” You turned around to get another box. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.”

Maybe you’d join him for dinner one night. That would be repayment enough for him. And seeing you smile over your shoulder, for the first time since he could remember, he didn’t mind the cold. Or the snow.

Lovelies, I think Bucky deserves some love for Christmas. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[monarchberrysblog]

UNDER THE STARS ⋆⭒

⋆｡°✩ part two to: NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

credit to: @mar_marOu on Instagram & @/marmarOu on X and Tumblr!

✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: sometimes, a hero and a vigilante need a break from the hectic city environment.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃. miguel and the reader are in an established relationship, brief mentions of kleptomania, exhibitionism (both of y'all literally don't give a fuck but seriously, don’t do freaky stuff outside), cumplay (?), cum eatting (we are going there too), uncircumcised peepee 🤭, hard? dom! miguel, assertive behavior from the reader, cunnilingus (f! receiving), unprotected p-in-v (please go to your local planned parenthood to educate yourself), and heavy breeding kink. (he scrambles your eggs 😝)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.6k words 🤭

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Nothing But Trouble blew up overnight! thank you for your undying support! it means a lot to me 😭 if there are errors, i do apologize, it's been a month since I looked at this. I'm slowly getting back in the groove.

here’s to my followers! y’all live in my basement now 🐈‍⬛ 🩵

The low clouds in Nueva York cascaded onto the ground, creating a murky environment in now empty streets. It was a quiet night, even for Nueva York. Within the apartment buildings of the hustling city, many were home, sheltered away from the smog air. Some were fast asleep in bed with their blankets, and others were cooking a warm meal for the evening. But for you, you were dragged out of your soft, cozy bed past the window edge decorated with many potted plants and small trinkets. You were now climbing the fire escape, wearing your pajamas and a simple black sweater.

The cat dragged you out into the cold environment, away from your warm, cozy bed. You yawned as you climbed up, swiftly up the fire escape, feeling the now wet bars against the palm of your hand.

The memory of seeing a text message from Miguel immediately came to mind when your slipper fell off your foot, causing you to shoot a web at it to retreat.

The "I want to see you real quick" text meant nothing but trouble from him. He was always up to no good, leaving a little mess behind, like a cat playing with a ball of yawn, only for the poor creature to be tangled in its consequence with big, teary eyes.

Nonetheless, you continued your climb up, finally reaching the rooftop.

The cold air nipped at your skin, piercing its cold air needles through your sweater and pajamas. Bringing your hands close to your mouth, you exhale warmly to your freezing digits, rubbing your hands, seeking friction to warm your dead, lifeless fingers temporarily.

You stand idly, waiting for his arrival.

A puff of smoke escaped your lips while you yearned for your return to your warm bed and away from the cold weather. Then, your vision darkened. A pair of large hands shield your eyes from the skyscraper lights of Nueva York. "Miguel!" You squeaked, reached to grasp his hands, and forcefully attempted to pull them away from your face. "Seems like you're happy to see me." He croons against the shell of your ear. His voice vibrates against your eardrums, reverberating down to your core. "Tell me why you're here...!" You finally pull his hands away from your eyes and turn around to see him.

"I can't see my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"No, no, you can't."

"Ouch, I'm hurt." He feigns pain, placing a hand against his "aching" chest cavity. You chuckle, delivering a punch against his shoulder, and sigh. "Really, why are you here?" He chuckles at the question, his palm rubbing away the aching punch that blossomed under his skin. "I have something for you-"

"Did you steal it?"

He frowns at the question. Sure, it was a given that he tended to snatch the next shiny thing in sight, but this time, it was... different.

"No...!" He hisses. "I bought it with my own money." He reaches down to his toolbelt and grabs a drawbag. He opens the tiny draw bag and retrieves a small royal blue box. "It's for you." He tosses the box to you. The little box jumps around your hands before it settles down on your palm. "I hope you like it." He huffs a bit of his cheeks while watching closely.

Your hands move independently, opening the tiny container. The velvet plush container revealed a heart-shaped necklace; the midnight blue stone glistened in the moonlight, shining independently. "Miguel...?"

"Now, don't get sappy on me." He scoffs, displaying a frown. Behind the frown, a smile waits to be displayed. He browsed at multiple boutiques, hoping to find something that was meant to be for you. Something that stood out from the rest. Simple, but it was made for you. "You got this for me?" You pout and soon retrieve the necklace from the velvet box.

"Do you like it?" The question felt boyish, even for him. But it was such a cute action coming from him.

"Yes! Oh my god! Help me put it on!" You bounced on the balls of your feet, ready to be climbing on the walls. "Put it on me, put it on me!" You repeat the phrase as a mantra, handing him the necklace to help you put it on. His frown breaks as he chuckles and assists you put the necklace on. "Do you like it-" He repeats and immediately gets jumped into an unsuspecting embrace. "Stop asking the question! Yes, I love it!" Your laughter fills the space as Miguel's hands work to get a proper hold of your bottom. Your laughter filled the space before the slowly descended to soft giggles and sighs.

His nose nudges against the tip of your nose, slowly creating a gap of silence between you. "Hi..." you whisper, nudging your nose against his. "Hey, " he croons as he nuzzles closer, planting a gentle kiss against your lips, molding your lips perfectly. You hum at the contact and enable the soft kiss. His fingers dig into the plush of your bottom as his claws sink deep into your skin.

Soft suckles and sighs fill your personal bubbles before pinning you down against the ledge. Your hands grasp Miguel's bicep before his chuckle greets your ears. "C'mere..." His hands move to hold onto your hips and drag you closer to his hips, rubbing himself against you at a slow, agonizing pace. "Even when it's cold out, you are warm."

You turn to look down, seeing the hustle and bustle of the streets, the lights looking nothing but a speck of light. "No one is gonna see us." He hums before he nuzzles his way to the crook of your neck, slowly placing soft kisses and trailing them back to your lips.

"Are you sure?" You push the question and lean closer to the soft butterfly kisses against your skin. "It's dark, no one is going to see." He rubs his straining member against your aching core, fluttering and waiting to be penetrated. His hands tug away at your sleep shorts, desperate to cease them off your body.

The thin line of arousal builds up against the gusset of your underwear, the slick, clear arousal clinging against your folds. "Let me get a taste." He pulls away the gusset, his fingers feeling the warmth and heat against his digits. "Look at that; you were already preparing for me..."

He kisses his way down to your core, almost moaning at the scent. You were his catnip, the temptation luring him to you, to roll his tongue at the liquid, sticky ecstasy, to drown in it.

His nose budgets against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance, collecting the taste. The cold air, accompanying his warm breath, nipped at you as your walls clenched around nothing. You are opened up to him like a blooming flower, exposing more of your now sensitive clit. “You are too sweet…” His voice is muffled thanks to his tongue licking your entrance from the bottom to the top.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel his middle finger linger at your entrance, tracing the opening slowly. Your breathing catches you, also as if you were sprinting in a marathon. He pulls away from the intimate kiss from your lips, his lips coated in your mess. "C'mon… let everyone hear you." He purrs and pushes two fingers in, feeling you clench against his digits. "Easy there, quierida." He keeps at a steady pace, immediately hearing the wet slaps. "There we go, there we go..."

The small whimpers evolved into full moans, your moans only audible to him but immediately drowned out by the sound of honking cars and noises in every other corner of the gloomy city's lively life. "Let me hear you, let me hear..." He slurps the sticky discharge before he is immediately shoved into you by your hands. You wailed out, squirming about before he pinned you down. "Open your mouth, now." His demands muffled, not daring to move away from your puffy folds.

You did as he said and screamed out an orgasm, nearly waterboarding him. He pulls away from your puffy folds and is wholly doused. You croak out a noise, ready to say something, but get stopped. “Just keep your mouth open.” He pulls down the zipper of his suit before he frees the strained tent between his legs.

Not earning a warning on time, he spits into your mouth, giving you a taste of your cum. The strong tangy taste and substance stayed in your mouth as you kept your mouth shut in shock. "Swallow it." He heaves before he reaches down between the two of you and lazily pumps his aching cock. You reach down and pull back at the foreskin gently, allowing to see the mauve tip peek out from the extra skin.

You grab his cock, pulling him close to you and pushing him into you. He groans softly at the sensation as he rocks himself in and out of you.

You swallow your cum and bounce on him, following his lead and feeling the familiar pressure between his tip and G-spot. You flutter against his length, trying to create a consistent rhythm, but the rhythm comes out staggered and messy. "You've been working on your kegals? You little slut." He hisses while pushing you down on the ledge.

"You're getting there. I can feel it." Strands of hair begin to stick to his forehead, and sweat soon drips down onto you, landing on your blouse and occasionally on your face. "Together now, you can do it. Hold it, " he demands as the pace increases. You look over at him, mouth agape and eyes pleading. Your hands grasp his exposed bicep, fingernails leaving crescent indents and red streaks.

"No, I know what you're thinking. Not yet." You pull him close, feeling your lower stomach bubble like a witch's cauldron. He leans down, planting you a harsh kiss, his tongue creeping its way to yours. You eagerly oblige, still tasting yourself on his tongue. "Now, go ahead." He rasps, rubbing his thumb against your clit. With one final thrust, you splash the two of you, your mess landing on the floor beneath the two of you.

"There you go, I'm so proud of you." He leans in to kiss your temple and nuzzles close. He slowly pulls out and looks at your pully walls. Not even a moment later, his cum spills out of you, dribbling down past your swelling folds. "Hold on, nena." His fingers gather his cum and push his cum back into you slowly.

He pulls his fingers out, residue lingering on his fingers before he licks the mess off.

"Don't waste a drop."

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

An "early-ish" House MD one shot. House and reader :)

The reader experiences a particular bad night and finds herself stuck in the ER with the one and only Greg House. This could really go either way...

gif is not mine (found it on google)

"Getting mugged wasn’t the worst part about my night"

„I’ll do it“ House took the IV-bag from the nurse before she could argue with him. You on the other hand really didn’t want him near you. However, you knew House well so you decided against putting up a fight and let him take care of you. He made clear that he wanted to watch over you, discussion over. Doctor’s orders. 

Wilson, Cuddy and all of  House’s attendees (old and new) were standing a few meters away from the two of you. The initial shock of you getting mugged and being delivered into the ER with a grade 3 concussion and a laceration to the forehead had worn off but they all felt like staying close. Now, in fact, they were shamelessly watching the scene in front of them unfold. They all knew this would probably be the pivoting point of House’s and your relationship. For a month the two of you had been buzzing around each other. Chase had bets running as per usual. Wilson was sure you would crack first and confess to House how you felt about him. Cuddy on the other hand had put in for „House, taking one more risk for the sake of finally finding happiness“, what can you do, she was sappy like that. There were a few more variants going around in the bookie but those were the two most popular. 

It wasn’t like House or you were denying that you liked each other. It was obvious, the amount of time you spent together and the pile of insiders you shared annoyed everyone around you. But whenever somebody tried to inquire, all they ever got was a 

„Oh, House and me?“

„(Y/N) and me?“ 

„We just hang out, we watch the same crappy shows and like to piss of the pizza place with weirdly specific orders.“ 

„Seriously, we are just friends!“ Even Wilson couldn’t coax a confession out of his stubborn friend. 

Funny thing, neither of you wanted to screw things up by showing your cards. 

„This will sting a bit,“ House was sitting on a chair in front of you taking your hand in his and carefully inserting an intravenous catheter. His hands were steady and his movements well practiced. You still hissed a little when the needle pierced through your skin and you could feel House’s blue eyes immediately on your face. He wanted to say something but reconsidered busying himself again with attaching the tube of the IV- bag to the IV-line. 

„Sure didn’t sting as much as the rest of the night,“ you snatched your hand away as soon as House seemed satisfied with his work. 

„And no, I am not talking about getting mugged.“ The harsh tone of your voice surprised you. Yes you were hurting because of him and yes you were out of your mind from the pain in your chest, your heart, but still. Wounding House didn’t give you any pleasure or redemption. It still sucked. All of it. Stacy sucked, their kiss sucked and what you heard him say, well, that just was the cherry on top. 

House didn’t get up from his chair but remained right in front of you. The chaotic atmosphere of the ER didn’t seem to phase him at all. Slowly he went to take your hand again but you brushed him off. 

„Fuck off House. I don’t want you near me.“ For a second you could see the pain in his eyes flash, then it was gone again. Replaced by his usual wall of safety guards. Safety guards he had let slowly and steadily dissolve with you. He wasn’t going to give up that easily now.

„Yeah, sorry I’m not going anywhere.“ House sounded firm even though you were sure he was confused and so out of his comfort zone. Him prolonging eye contact and taking a „stance“ was all just an act to hide his feelings and ever growing insecurity. For once the doctor was actually scared to lose someone. Displaying confidence and nonchalance was all he knew how to do right now. 

„What? I am not being funny here.“ You leaned further back, unconsciously creating more distance between you and House. Why didn’t he just leave already. Did he take some weird pleasure in knowing that you had overheard his and Stacy’s conversation? That earlier this week you had seen them kiss in his office? You were so angry and hurt that getting mugged almost felt like a nice distraction. 

„Just go!“ You made a flinging motion with your hand and your voice broke from all the emotions. House scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes at you like he simply didn’t understand what was going on. He was confused by your actions. He was here, he was taking care of you and still you wanted him to leave. 

„Why do you want me to go away?“ His voice was small, he seemed sincere which made you want to jump out of your skin. Sad, hurt, humiliated all of which you were feeling right now but deep down there was also frustration and anger. All those month of casually hanging out and spending time together. Was that all a lie? It had felt so genuine. Could you have been so wrong about another person? You sure weren’t stupid. You had never thought of yourself as the one that would change House. You knew many had and tried to be friends as well as love interests and they had all failed more or less miserably. You simply enjoyed being around him as he was. You liked being his friend. Oh how very stupid you felt now. Friends? Your thoughts were interrupted by House’s voice. It sounded modulated like he was really trying to stay in control of his demeanor.

„(Y/N)?“  

Irritatingly for you the shock of getting mugged, the thudding pain in your skull and Stacy’s performance had taken a big chunk out of your self-control. There just wasn’t anything left to hold back the emotions from spilling over. Tears blurred your vision and your mouth twisted into a thin line. At least you were able to hold back that sob building in your throat. You knew you couldn’t take it much longer, something had got to give. 

„Because it hurts to look at you.“ And there it was. Painfully aware of all the people around you and House blankly staring at you. Was he in shock? Your voice had been so much more penetrating than you had anticipated. Shit, where did all that pain come from all of the sudden? Why weren’t you able to look away from those blue eyes? Was he even breathing? Were you breathing? Why was it so quiet? Was anyone breathing? 

„I love you and you crushed my heart!“ Those eight words had slipped out of your mouth before you even noticed they had formed on your tongue. Your own thoughts betraying you and that at the worst time. Why was your face so wet? Then the blue eyes were gone. House remained unnervingly silent. He had however gotten up from the chair. The doctor’s back was turned towards you. His right hand held onto an unused IV-stand. Was he steadying himself? Might be his leg but the pain had gotten a little less excruciating of late. You knew that because he had confided in you. Hot tears were still running down your reddened face while you stared at House’s unmoving figure.

Behind the two of you, at the reception counter of the ER, Wilson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He huffed out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. Cuddy throw a cautious look at him. They both felt bad. Usually Chase’s bets didn’t turn into such a flurry of dramatic events. Wilson could sense the rising uneasiness of his colleagues around him. He cleared his throat and leaned back a little, turning his head towards Chase. 

„Now that it happened I don’t know why you let me place that bet.“ Chase’s arms were crossed in front of his chest. He silently stared at (Y/N) and House. 

„This is totally upsetting and those are our friends.“ Wilson knew the Aussie doctor wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy and he especially wouldn’t lend any emotional comfort. 

„So you forfeit?“ Chase raised an eyebrow at Wilson. 

„I,“ Wilson hesitated, his moral compass was spinning like a merry-go-round. 

„No, I don’t. I just think we are terrible friends.“ 

Chase snorted and rolled his eyes. 

„Just because we took on bets doesn’t mean we aren’t their friends. Or well (Y/N)’s friends, I don’t know about House. Does House actually have friends?“ 

Wilson looked dumbfounded and left Chase hanging for a good comeback. The other doctor took that as enough of an answer. Just then Chase‘s pager went off. He glanced at it quickly and with another nod towards Wilson, he pushed himself off the reception counter, he had been leaning against and left.

The machines, next to the bed you were sitting on, started to beep loudly. Immediately House turned around and checked for the reason of the onslaught of alarms. A nurse standing nearby also rushed over. You followed House’s line of vision and quickly realized that your condition hadn’t suddenly taken a turn for the worse. The pulse oximeter that had been clamped onto your left index finger had slipped off. You hadn’t even noticed. 

„It’s okay I got it.“ House waved at the nurse stoping her in her track. She just nodded and went back to scribbling on the chart of another patient. House’s hands took a hold of our left one, he slipped the pulse oximeter back on. The noise stopped and the numbers on the screen went back to somewhat normal at least as far as your non existing medical understanding told you. He kept holding your hand and you let him. Your outburst and confession had drained you even more and you were left longing for contact. 

„There, looks good, normal heart rate. So it can’t be crushed.“ House smiled openly at you although it seemed a little too assertive. You couldn’t believe your ears. 

„You are kidding me right?“ Once again you wanted to pull your hand away from his but he held on. It took you a few seconds to untangle your fingers from his, he watched you struggle a bit bevor slowly letting go. You sniffled and tears started to come anew. The way he kept looking at you made you nervous and confused. House’s weird behavior was something you clearly couldn’t deal with. The moodiness, rude arrogance and sheer lack of interest in other people’s necessities you could handle – but this? This was worrisome. 

„House, please just – just leave.“ It sounded like a plea, your tremulous voice not helping. However House didn’t respond. He looked back up to the monitors again, busying himself, biding his time. You knew he wasn’t gonna leave. A frustrated huff through your nose. Shaking your head in disbelieve you let its weight sink down into your hand, rubbing over your forehead. 

„Why do you call me House?“ Your head snapped back up. The blue eyes were on yours again. 

"You never call me House.“ He said his own name like something foreign, something he had to get his tongue acquainted with.

„It’s always been Greg,“ his eyes fell and you had to bend forward a little to still hear him. „Right from the beginning. You only ever use House when you talk to other people.“ To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

„Seriously? This is what you are going with?“ The harshness of your tone was matched my House’s soft response. You had never seen him so abashed.

„Just tell me,“ a quiver at the right corner of his lips, „Please?“ This, you weren’t able to deny. House was either being sincere in all his coyness or he was playing you to get what he wanted but whichever it was, you couldn’t stop yourself from indulging him.

„I call you House because everybody does and I am not special.“ Fast and prompt, no time to think about your choice of words. This day wasn’t gonna get any worse, was it? Might as well lean into it then. House was right though. You had always preferred calling him Greg. You understood that at work people referred to him as House. It was both formal and still not too friendly for coworkers. In the beginning you hadn’t actually really noticed that hardly anybody besides you called him Greg but when you realized it you couldn’t help but ask yourself why. The nature of your relationship (or friendship to be correct) was purely pleasure. You didn’t share anything work related and so the version of House you hung out with struck you more as a Greg kind of House other than a House House. 

„To call you House is safe,“ you said and in your head you added: and it is less intimate. With a heavy sigh House took a few steps and let himself sink down next to you on the hospital bed. Both your feet were dangling down and you followed the swinging motion with your eyes. For some reason a comfortable silence fell over you. The ER was, now as before, busy but the different sounds and monotonous buzzing worked like a coat slipping around the two of you. There was enough room to stay still in all the hectic. For the next couple of minutes House and you quietly agreed on taking a breather. 

The dull thud of Houses cane on the floor made you jerk up a little. He was going to say something. Repeatedly hitting the and of his cane on the floor was a tell-tale-sign of the Doctor building up to saying something. You had noticed that relatively early, but you weren’t sure if he realized you knew. House would mold the words in his mind until they satisfied him enough to actually say them. You also knew that he only ever did that if he was nervous or stressed out about what he wanted to say. 

„(Y/N), I am not with Stacy. Even though you might think that after what you heard tonight.“ Ah of course, yes, this would definitely make House uncomfortable. You just stayed silent, letting him continue.

„And trust me I know it sounds cliché but it is not what you think it is.“ He half laughed at that, it sounded studded with frustration and a hint of desperation. 

„What is it then? Because it really did sound like the two of you were making up.“ As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You really didn’t want to know. It was enough for you to know that it hurt. 

„You know what? Don’t answer me,“ you lifted your hand, pressing the palm of it against your eyes in an attempt to dampen the headache. It didn’t work and you let your hand sink down again, resting it on your upper thigh. 

„Do you love her?“ Since you had arrived in the ER you had tried to avoid looking at House but the question you had just put to him demanded you to make eye contact. House didn’t immediately answer. His long fingers scratched absentmindedly at his stubbled chin.

„No I don’t and I haven’t for quite some time.“ There was so much conviction in House’s voice that you didn’t doubt he was telling the truth. 

„What I said, what you heard,“ the doctor kept looking around while continuing to explain himself. Scanning over the room but hardly registering what was going on. 

„I wasn’t talking about Stacy and me. But without the proper context I can see how you might think that.“  He snuck a peek at you trying to gauge how this conversation was going. Only the white knuckles of his hand holding his cane in an iron grip gave aways how tense he was. Throwing your hands in the air you could only shake your head. This whole situation was ridiculous. 

„You kissed, I saw you, in your office.“ you said bluntly. You were ready to start a fight. Leaving everything pent up wasn’t gonna work. If House thought he could fool you with this talkative demeanor you were sure as hell gonna make him work for it.  

„I know and I felt awful“ Small voice, barely more than a murmur and two absurdly blue irises. Aaaaand there you crumbled again. You involuntarily mimicked House’s wispy smile.

„Didn’t look like that,“ you muttered. He grabbed your hand carefully avoiding the IV catheter. His fingers drew small patterns on the back of your hand. 

„Well do you believe me if I say you got that the wrong way around as well?“ 

Yes, your thoughts screamed and you wanted to threw yourself into House’s arms. Instead you pressed out a, „No.“ 

But he let you have that one, making sure you could keep your dignity. 

„Fair enough“. House intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them a little. He sucked in a breath of air.

„But,“ drawing out the vowel, House made his point anyways,“I’m sorry, you do have it the wrong way around.“ Was that his teasing tone? Was he actually mocking you? To be fair you could feel the tension draining from your body. If anyone would ever try to convince you that House wasn’t able to understand emotions and steer them empathetically you would just laugh in their face. Which is also what you did now. You laughed because frankly you were overwhelmed.

„Whatever. This is humiliating.“ You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or to laugh.

„She kissed me.“ House added, looking all dopy and school boyish. You gaped at him. House was carefully maneuvering this sinking wreck off a ship into saver waters and you knew it but it was still annoying you. Why was it working? 

„Oh well that changes everythi–„ You jumped right on board and countered sarcastically but House cut in.

„Yeah no, I know it doesn’t.“ He agreed with you however he wanted you to fully understand the circumstances. 

„The only reason I let her was because I am shit at feelings.“ House shrugged his shoulders.

„What? Sorry you lost me. You are shit at feelings so you kiss your married Ex-wife?“ Was he kidding you? Your hand slipped away from his and you tugged your arms tightly around your middle. You didn’t want to fell like that but anger and frustration where front runners again. House got the message. When he talked next the lightness in his voice was gone.

„If you are shit at feelings you might not be able to trust them. Sometimes I need actions to fully understand them. Actions I get and I am good at them.“

Your mouth opened but potential words were stopped by an index finger pressed against your lips.

„Ah ah ah wait!“ The Doctor removed his finger and continued.

„So when she kissed me I was able to say goodbye,“ he paused for a second, “ because there was nothing. No love, no anger or other sentiment. It was only a kiss which I did not particular care for. It cleared my head.“ 

„Hmm.“ Not as articulate as you would have liked to be but you couldn’t manage more, so you just kept listening. 

„I wanted to come after you. I…“, House hesitated then he turned a little more towards you. He wanted to see your eyes but you kept your gaze low. 

„Your face. The way you just turned around and left.“ His voice was husky.

„I told Stacy then, what I just told you… and to be fair she was pissed. I should have know that she wouldn’t leave it at that.“ A bitter chuckle slipped from House’s mouth and he shook his head. The doctor was lost in his thoughts for a second. Your voice pulled him back into the ER.

„So when you asked me to come by to talk, you in fact wanted to talk?“ Maybe all was not lost. Maybe just, maybe this day had still something good to offer.

„Oh yes, yes I did and other stuff“ A cheeky grin appeared on House’s face and he softly bumped his shoulder agains yours. When you looked at him he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

„Shut up,“ you snorted. This man is unbelievable. 

„Not funny yet?“ He lightly poked your thigh, testing the waters. 

„Nooooo,“ you said, returning the shoulder bump. 

You looked at each other, wary smiles meeting. House drew in a heavy breath then. He still had a few things he wanted to say, get out of his system. 

„Stacy rang the doorbell 10 minutes before you. She must have left the door ajar. And the rest, you witnessed first hand.“ He scratched the back of his neck and proceeded.

„Annoyingly not all of it. Seeing that we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.“

You nodded slowly, processing. Neither of you knew what to say now so you just kept sitting next to each other. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward it just seemed necessary to pause for a bit. 

After a few minutes you suddenly had this weird feeling of being watched. You became more aware of your surroundings and let your eyes drift. Behind you, at the reception counter you saw House’s attendees as well as Cuddy and Wilson jump apart like they had been caught red handed. All of them were making it a point to be terribly busy looking. 

„I can’t believe they are all still watching us.“ You nodded towards the group of doctors. House followed your line of sight and you could feel him growing a little bit uneasy. There was no smile on his face and his features seemed more in control. You didn’t want to see him so gloomy after there had just been some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. You wrapped your hand around House’s elbow and tucked a bit. His head turned back to you. You were surprised to find sadness and, what was that? Remorse? Etched into his face.

 „They are making sure I don’t crush your heart twice in one night.“ With the bitterness in House’s words came also a promise. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to make this work and find out what this between the two of you could be. He acknowledged how his actions from earlier had hurt you. Everything about this conversation was so out of character for House that you had a hard time believing you weren’t imagining things. Maybe your concussion was worse than you thought and you were having crazy hallucinations. Could you have hallucinations from concussions?

„Yes, but that is highly unlikely in your case, since the CCT-scan did not pick up any intracerebral bleeding.“ 

„What?“ Surprised you looked at House. 

„Did I just say that out loud?“ The doctor smiled at you amused and your stomach fluttered. You always had liked it when he bestowed you with one of those uncensored grins. 

„Yup.“ House confirmed. Chalking it up to the most ludicrous day you have had in a while you decided to ignore reason and precaution and just trust your gut. You let your head sink against House’s shoulder and immediately the side of your body melted agains him as well. Before a sigh of relieve could escape from you House had already wrapped his arm around your waist. This was nice. It felt good and easy. 

After a while you could feel the weight from House’s head on yours. You watched your feet dangling again. The calm breathing and the warmth between the two of you had you feeling drowsy in no time. A stifled yawn from you and House nuzzled his face into your neck.

„Yeah, me too,“ he whispered.

„How much longer ’til this thing is through,“ you asked quietly while pulling at the tube of the IV-bag. House lifted his head and frowned at the IV-bag. He considered his answer for a couple more seconds and before hopping off the bed.  

„Maybe 10 more minutes. We can speed it up a little.“ The doctor reached for the drip and adjusted the roller clamp. Immediately the solution in the IV-bag started dripping faster and he turned back towards you, sitting back down. 

„I don’t want to stay in the hospital,“ You sighed. Next to you House was blowing raspberries, obviously thinking something over. 

„You should with a third degree concussion. But I can take you home and make sure you’re okay.“ House offered looking at you expectantly. You considered your options and figured that the perspective of having House fussing over you wasn’t too bad. Your stomach rumbled loudly. An idea came to you then.

„Do you still have that pizza I brought, at your place?“ House had to chuckle at that and his laugh lines appeared. He nodded.

„Yes I do, at least I didn’t eat it. I went straight after you this time.“ House looked at you carefully, in all the joking there was also truth. Apparently he was satisfied with what he found in your eyes because he continued lightheartedly.

„If nobody broke in and ate it, it should still be sitting on the kitchen counter. “ 

„Great!“ You exclaimed happily.

„I could eat, really had a long night. How about you?“ You really wanted to get out of the hospital and leave the last few hours behind you.

„Nooo, completely normal night. So relaxing.“ House earned a slap from you on his shoulder. 

„Ouch! Don’t hit the cripple.“ His fake whiny voice made you actually laugh out loud and you were so relieved to feel somewhat normal again. 

„How about instead of taking me to my place, we go to yours and warm up that pizza then? I can be on concussion-watch anywhere right?“ With that you slowly slid off the bed, carefully steadying yourself. House watched you, assessing if you really were able to leave the hospital.

„I was kinda planning on that anyways.“ He stood up as well and undid the tube from your IV-catheter. The IV-bag was empty. With his hand he indicated for you to sit down once more. While he removed the IV-catheter from your hand you were happy to run along with the banter. 

„Sure you were. What if I’d refused.“ You cocked an eyebrow at House, challenging him. Even before he spoke you knew there would be some kind of quick-witted comeback.

„Oh I would have just kidnapped you.“ He shrugged his shoulders casually, a big fat grin on his face while he peeled off the adhesive tape that had kept the IV in place. 

„Of course.“ You laughed. The needle in your arm was gone and House pushed down some gauze on the exit wound. After a few seconds he put a plaster over it to keep it in place.You used his focus to study his features. There was still that smile on House’s face, though it had faded a little. You wondered what was on his mind. The heaviness that started to appear on his forehead couldn’t be from doing some routine doctor stuff. Just when you wanted to go for it an ask House what was going on, he mumbled your name.

„(Y/N)?“ Was his voice shacking? Your heart sank. Please don’t mess this up. Your imagination started to run wild and you feared for the worst.

„Hm?“ you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable let down.

„Can you not… can you maybe?“ House leaned closer to you. He seemed oblivious to your emotional turmoil. The whispering made his voice sound rough. With another sharp intake of air he took the plunge. 

„You are special, you know. To me you really are special.“The words tumbled out of his mouth practically rolling over each other. You scooped them up, holding them, they felt soft and warm to the touch. 

„So could you maybe not do the House-thing like everyone else?“

You smiled at him. This was big. House just committed to talking about his feelings leaving himself unguarded in the process. 

„Okay, Greg.“ 

[keferon]

Okay- I adore the Mecha AU.. so now I have to share MY terrible idea, dunno if anyone has said this yet but- you remember that in pacific rim when Raleigh & Mako DRIFT and they both experience each other’s trauma?

What if that happened with Jazz & Prowl?

Like-

One day Prowl starts noticing a difference in Jazz's behavior, noticing how he would suddenly tense up or flinch whenever somebody suddenly started speaking loud or in the morning he’d notice how he was soaked in sweat and shakily making his way to the wash racks. Whenever he’d ask if he was alright he was always met with a smile and a reassuring remark, yet he knew something was off and he wanted to help.

So then (once he’s fully healed) he suggests to Jazz that they should do trust exercises under the guise that since he doesn’t have another Mecha so they should strengthen their own bond for any future battles. Jazz is hesitant, especially since he blames himself for Prowl being in that situation in the first place, but he also wants to spend time with Prowl so he agrees.

Prowl probably would go to a secluded spot in the forest they’re in, somewhere safe where, once Jazz is relaxed enough he can ask him about these strange behaviors he’s recently been exhibiting. Surely nothing bad will happen and surely Jazz will be fine like he usually is…

The training exercises go well, Jazz is feeling fine and they’re both in the zone when suddenly a bad memory spontaneously starts to haunt Jazz and it triggers a PTSD-esque Episode where Jazz freezes up and is suddenly taken back to that horrible time..

The time he was strapped down to a bedbunk, his body writhing in agonizing pain, the constant sting of needles piercing his skin followed by an intense burning sensation that can only be likened to being burned from the inside out, his vision going blurry and his throat raw and bleeding from screaming and crying, his body shaking and shivering as a thick sheen of sweat coats his body.

And right now… because of the DRIFT.. Prowl sees it too, he not only sees it but he’s there, standing over Jazz's restrained body, he hears screams and sounds he never EVER wanted to hear, not from Jazz of all people. His precious partner, he’s looking down at him unable to help or protect him from these strangers, these monsters who are ignoring the ear piercing, spark-wrenching screams of pure agony. Worst of all? He can’t move, he’s frozen in place, forced to stand there helplessly as Jazz is begging for mercy, begging for someone to help him… and. he. can’t. move.

It lasts just for a moment but for both of them it felt like an hour until Jazz screams himself back into reality, freeing both him and Prowl from his nightmare. Prowl drops to a knee, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what the actual hekk he just saw until he feels Jazz pounding his fist against his chest, he can vaguely make out his choked up plea which scares Prowl as he’s never heard Jazz make that noise before. Prowl opens it and barely manages to catch Jazz as the man tumbled out into his own shaky servo in a trembling heap.

Jazz is slightly pale and tears are in his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath, he knows he’s not there anymore but he still feels it.

Prowl rushes back to Ratchets hideout where he the others are and calls for him, fear gripping his tanks as Jazz is still huddled in a fetal position, hyperventilating as he grips his soaked hair. Ratchet immediately recognizes what’s happened and quickly moves to help Jazz calm down before he has a heart attack which he is very close to having with how high his pulse is. It works but the man is so worn out from the stress that he just passes out.

I don’t know but that’s been plaguing my mind since I started reading your AU and I just HAD to share it lol, what do you think? How do you think Prowl would actually react to that? I figured he’d freak out as humans and their fragile bodies are still new territory for him.

Also sorry if it’s all a bit unclear or confusing or like- boarderline rambling I’m not good at storytelling and just stick to RP and making RP plots lol.

OH MAN. OH FUCK. YEP UH HUH YEAH. THIS. oh my god

Knowing Prowl, he would probably rush to learn every bit of information he can access about. You know. How to help someone in that scenario. Because he’s scared that something would went wrong while he has zero knowledge about humans.

But also. I think it would make him realise just how strong despite his small size Jazz actually is.

Jazz might drop something about his brain being over dramatic when it’s not helpful at all. While Prowl is just are you fraggin serious you’re a superhuman

[reiding-writing]

RESPITE — SPENCER REID!

Dealing with addiction withdrawals is a horrible experience. Having to sit at a desk for eight hours and act like they weren't happening was even worse. If only someone would just ask him if he was okay.

WARNINGS: Details of addiction withdrawals, Mentions of Spencer's kidnapping, Needle mentions, Vomit mentions, Thoughts of self-induced bodily harm, Inaccurate portrayal of therapy and legal loopholes, Mentions of touch-starvedness

s3!spencer x gn!psychiatrist!reader | ANGST | 5.6k

a/n: all the love in the world to my beta reader and loml @flowersfromautumn 🫶🫶🫶, and to those of you who followed me after my first upload, be warned, i almost exclusively write angst 😭

masterlist!

Spencer Reid was sat with his head in his hands, silently praying to Gods that he didn’t think existed to rid him of the enervating sensations flooding every nerve of his body.

All he wanted to do was be productive, to prove that he was still fully capable of doing his job. But no, instead, his body had decided to attack itself as though it were a foreign object, screaming at him to give in and supply it with what he most craved.

It had been six weeks since he’d returned to the BAU, and whilst he desperately tried to prove his mental stability, his physical reactions were letting him down.

He knew the statistics surrounding addiction. Of course he did. He knew that over 1.5 million people in the United States were addicted to opioids. He knew that they were the leading cause of overdose related deaths. He knew that the more he indulged in his compulsions the worse the withdrawals would get, and he knew that injecting it was the most harmful way to get the drug into his system.

His logical brain knew it was wrong; But his body didn’t care.

Knowledge wouldn’t stop the tremors in his hands. It wouldn’t stop the goosebumps littering his skin. It wouldn’t stop the ever-present lump in his throat, or the strain of his eyes as he desperately tried to absorb the information from the files on his desk. So much for an eidetic memory.

Knowledge wouldn’t stop him from wanting to claw at the skin of his elbow until his cephalic vein was exposed, or the urge to pierce the needle in so deep that it came out of the other side.

He had tried to find solace in his work, to distract himself from the cravings that consumed him. But no matter how hard he focused, the relentless ache in his bones refused to subside. It was a constant battle between the rational mind that knew the consequences and the primal instinct that sought relief at any cost.

He was so deep in his own mind that he didn’t notice you walk over to his desk, nor did he make any acknowledgement of you calling his name. It took you waving your hand literal inches away from his face for his eyes to finally turn up towards you, and you couldn’t help but notice how his pupils had almost completely overtaken the hazel of his eyes, his scleras tainted pink through the blood vessels clinging to them like ivy.

“Spence?” Your voice, usually soothing, was defiled by the constant ringing in his ears, sending a pounding ache through his head.

“Spencer…”

You wave your hand in front of his face again, each passing moment making you feel increasingly guilty for bothering him.

The whole team had noticed Spencer’s change in attitude after his kidnapping, as had they noticed his bouts of irritation and dissociation, and probably the most telling of all, his newfound habit of itching the inside of his right elbow over the sleeve of his shirt.

Sure a normal person could write off those behaviours as normal for recovering from what he’d been through, a mix of distrust and anxiety making him more irritable. But you weren’t normal people, you were a team of profilers, and as much as everyone tried to stick to the unofficial ‘don’t profile your team members’ rule, they could tell that Spencer’s behaviour wasn’t solely due to being held hostage for a few days, not even with the mental and physical torment he went through.

Everyone suspected, but you knew. Your years in medical school for psychiatry meant you could spot the signs of addiction in your sleep. You just wished you could say something.

Trouble was, under Section 4.1.2 of the FBI’s Fitness for Duty regulation, if Spencer’s addiction were to be officially recognised, he would not longer be deemed ‘fit’ to work, and no one on the team wanted that.

“hmm..?” The most Spencer could evoke was a soft hum, barely audible over the usual chatter littering the bullpen. His eyes remained static as he looked up in your direction, but he wasn’t actually looking at you, more like he was fixed on something just over your shoulder.

You have to consciously suppress a sigh as your eyes flicker over his features. His skin, already pale, seemed to have lost all colour barr the dark purple collecting under his eyes, and his face had become gaunt, shadows starting to form where his skin clung around his cheek bones. He looked awful.

“I’m sorry to bother you… Do you have the autopsy files for the most recent case?”

“Oh, yeah- yeah of course, i have a copy uh-” Your question seemed to remind Spencer of where he was, that he was sat at his desk, in his workplace, and that he should be being productive.

He rifles through the files on his desk, piling up due to his lack of motivation to actually finish any of them, and as he finally reaches the one you asked for, he pries it out from under the stack, the manilla folder shaking with the tremor of his hand as he holds it out towards you.

If only someone would just say something.

Spencer knew he was acting “weird”, he just wanted someone to say something about it. Anything.

He knew it was unprofessional, and that he had the potential of losing his job over it. Still he wanted someone to ask him if he was okay.

He just wanted someone to ask.

“…Why do you need it?” Spencer’s voice is hesitant, almost a whisper as he tries to stop himself from choking on his own words.

“I’m finishing up the medical report and i want to make sure I have all of my facts right…” You take the file from him with a frown, barely able to mask your concern through your expression. “Thank you…”

Spencer manages to give you a weak smile before he slumps back into his chair, fighting the lump in his throat that threatens force it’s way out of his mouth and spill all over his desk. He was twitching to say something. To tell you that he’s not okay. To break down in your arms and have you promise him that everything was going to be alright.

But he doesn’t. Because no matter how much he was suffering, he would never want to unload his burden onto somebody else. Especially not you. He just sat, silently praying that you would be the one to initiate the conversation. And lo and behold, you did. Albeit not directly.

“Hey uh…” You mindlessly flick through the file he’d given you, not really paying attention to any of the words on the pages as you use it to keep your hands busy and alleviate the awkward tension running between the two of you. “I- work overtime a lot… If you’re ever here after hours-”

There’s a small glint that returns to his eyes as you indirectly suggest that you’d like to speak to him off the clock. He almost spills everything to you right there at his desk, but as he sucks in a breath to speak, he catches himself, clearing his throat.

“Yeah… Thanks…”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You watched as the digital clock on your desk turned from 18:00 to 18:01. The work day had officially ended an hour ago, and most of the agents had already left to enjoy their long deserved weekend. You however remained sat at your desk in your dimly lit office, fiddling with a 5 x 5 Rubix Cube that Gideon had given you during a case in New York, tired of the way you’d tap your fingers against the table of the jet when you got bored.

You hoped that Spencer had understood the implications of what you’d told him earlier.

Watching him suffer in silence ripped a chunk of humanity from you every time you saw him, and it was getting to the point where you could barely look him in the eye without feeling so guilty you wanted to cry.

But as the time ticked on, you feared he hadn’t, and by the time it reached 18:30 you were dejectedly preparing yourself to leave, throwing your jacket around your shoulders and packing up your messenger bag.

Your retreat home was stopped by you almost walking straight into Spencer as you opened your office door, his hand slightly outstretched as if he was on the verge of pushing open the door himself.

“Oh… uh…” Spencer stumbled over his words a little as you took a step backwards, and his eyes flickered over your frame, focusing in on the bag hanging off your left shoulder and the jacket you were half-wearing. “Sorry…”

He stepped out of the way of the door to make way for you to walk past him, but you didn’t move, remaining stood in the doorway , your eyes watching his as they desperately looked anywhere except in your direction.

“”Are you alright?”

Spencer nodded hastily at your question, pursing his lips to the point where they were barely visible and bringing his hand towards his inner elbow, itching at it through the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah- Sorry, i’ll uh- I’m-”

“Spencer.” You stop his stuttered excuse to with a raised hand, slightly relieved that he had indeed come to your office, even if it had taken him over an hour and a half to build up the courage. ”Come in,”

You gesture for him to enter with your head, to which he replies with a shake of his own.

“No- No you’re going home, I don’t want to keep you-”

“Spence… Please, come in.”

You repeat your request with a gentle insistence, cutting him off once again.

You never liked to interrupt Spencer’s train of thought, it happened all too often with the people around him cutting him off before he could get his full thoughts out, but right now it was an unfortunate necessity. You knew that if you let him continue he would pull himself into a spiral and back out of reaching out for help, so you wanted to cut off the idea before he even had the chance to voice it.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and stepped into your office, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his internal struggle. It was clear that he needed someone to talk to, but despite him standing outside of your office door, he’d seemingly started to regret coming to see you.

You gesture for him to sit down on the small sofa lining the far wall of your office, and he hesitates for a moment before finally taking a seat, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension as they flicker around the room.

Spencer had been in your office a few times, although he’d never stayed long enough to actually look around.

Of course he’d noticed the floor to ceiling bookcase behind your desk, lined with a string of dangling fairy lights, as had he noticed the large cream rug with small tassels lining its short sides, covering a majority of the exposed hard wood lining your office floor.

He’d often found himself looking over at the wall closest to your door, covered in re-prints of renaissance paintings and gold framed mirrors of different sizes, your Psychology PhD and Psychiatry Doctorate Certificates hung right in the centre, framed in a similar rustic gold.

What he hadn’t noticed in the few times he’d visited were the small stress balls of different colours littering your desk, or the paperweight shaped like a brain holding down the small pile of scribbled notes you miscellaneously taken.

He hadn’t noticed the small replica of a marble Aristotle statue tucked into one of the squares of the bookshelf, lined with fake ivy, or the framed photo of you and your parents on the day of your first graduation.

Everything about your office was warm and inviting, and he was beginning to wonder whether your home was the same.

God how he wanted to go home. To lie in his bed and sleep until his bladder forced him awake under the threat of bursting inside his body from its own pressure.

"Spencer," you say softly, breaking him out of his short-lived observation as you pull the blinds closed, ensuring privacy on the unlikely occasion anyone was still roaming the bullpen.

“Did you know that one of the great things about being a private practicing psychiatrist is that anyone can ask for a private session without any paperwork involved?”

You place your bag onto your desk chair, re-draping your jacket over the back of it. “it’s called a ‘recordless session’, and holds the same confidentiality rules without any paper evidence, the cache being that it has to be under an hour,”

As you speak, you can see the weight of his struggles visibly lift off his shoulders, and a glimmer of hope flickers in his eyes.

“Yeah I… Yeah, I knew that…”

Of course he knew that. What didn’t Spencer know?

“I, uh…can I book an appointment?” A single tear rolls down his cheek, but he dries it with the back of his sleeve before more can escape.

“Please..?”

It takes you all of your willpower in that moment to not pull Spencer’s head into your chest, to not run your fingers through his hair and rock him back and forth in your arms until all of semblance of sorrow left his mind.

Instead you settled for taking a seat besides him on the sofa, gently reaching out to pull his left hand away from his elbow, holding it between your own as you try to transfer some of your body heat to his ice-cold fingers. “When would you like to start?”

“Can we start now? Please, before I change my mind?” Spencer looks up at you with a slightly desperate expression on his face. He just needs one session, he can figure out what to do next, but for now, he needs help.

You exhale softly with a sympathetic expression as Spencer’s voice threatens to break with his words.

“Now’s perfect…” You gently rub your thumb over the top of his hand in small circles, offering a simple form of reassurance before gently pulling them away.

You pull your sleeve up a little to reveal the electronic watch on your left wrist, the face on the inside for easier access, and you set a timer for 59 minutes, just under an hour. The perfect legal loophole.

“Alright, i’m all yours…” You send him a soft sympathetic expression as you mark the start of the session.

Spencer listens to the timer tick down, suddenly hyper aware of the noise despite not having taken any notice of it before, and he clasps his hands in his lap as he tries to gather his thoughts and his courage.

“I- uh- um-“ he starts quietly. He can’t force himself to make eye contact with you, but he takes a sharp breath in and tries to push the words out. “I’m an addict,” he says quickly, turning his head away from you.

And there it was.

You give him a soft nod at his confession, but don’t give a verbal response, fearing that if you were to say anything it would scare him from opening up any further.

Spencer can’t believe he’s actually admitting it out loud. He can already feel the panic rise as he speaks about his addiction, but he needs to open up, he needs to get this off his chest.

“I- I’m addicted to Dilaudid. Opioids. I- I started when I was held captive... He would inject me with it to stop the pain, i- I don’t know how to get off it,” he pauses, trying to form his thoughts. “I-“

Spencer exhales heavily, leaning forwards to drag his palms over his face. “I don’t know what to do-”

Spencer takes a few deep breaths, glancing back up at you. “I- I know that I need help, I know I should reach out to a support group or something, but I- I can’t do that, I- have work, everyone is relying on me, and this is- this is my fault I- I kept taking it and-“

“Spencer.” You take his left hand in yours again, pulling it away from his face and bringing it down to rest on the small gap in the sofa between you and him. “I need you to slow down for me alright? working yourself up isn’t going to help…”

Spencer falls back into a quiet panic as you speaks, the thoughts going so fast his brain feels like it’s on fire. Words fly in and out of his head and he desperately tries to grasp onto them, trying to string them together in a way that makes sense.

“Slowly, yeah, yeah, slowly…” he takes a few more deep breaths, his eyes staring down at the floor in front of the couch.

“I need help.”

He looks down at his hand as it sits in yours, your palm warm and soft, a harsh contrast to rigid coldness of his own. “I can’t think about work. I- I can’t hold a proper conversation, I cant even look at myself in the mirror anymore...”

“I just- I don’t know if I can do this alone…” Spencer quietly whispers the last sentence, staring down at the floor. He stays there, sat silently for a few moments before he raises his head towards you again.

“Did you know that addicts who don’t reach out for professional help have an 85% chance of relapse within a year of trying to quit?”

Spencer always seemed to revert back to his intelligence to shield his emotions, although the waver in his tone continued to give away how he was really feeling.

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing I’m a professional then,” You reply to his statistic with a light tone, trying to keep some semblance of optimism in the conversation as you give his hand a small squeeze.

"Addiction is a ruthless battle Spencer, but you've taken the first step by acknowledging that you need help."

Spencer's eyes flicker with a mix of relief and uncertainty. "I’m just- scared,”

"I know Spencer… It's normal to feel ashamed or afraid of judgement. But remember, addiction is a disease, not a personal failing. Seeking help is incredibly difficult, and it's also essential for your well-being."

You absentmindedly run your thumb over the back of his hand slowly, conveying your unwavering support. "I'm proud of you, Spencer. Recognising your readiness for change is a significant milestone in itself."

Spencer nods slowly, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability as he looks up at you, his eyes burning into your own as the resolve that he had quickly begins to falter.

Then, he takes a deep breath. And he breaks.

“I-I… I want to relapse,” He whispers. “I want to more than anything. I’m having trouble focusing, and… I can’t get it out of my head. And I’m scared I… I might-“

Spencer looks at you with a heartbreaking expression, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse quickens. His eyes flicker, the addiction begging to be let out as his expression becomes one of utter desperation.

He needs to be clean.

But that need to be numb outweighs everything else, and it’s terrifying him.

“Hey,” You give both of his hands a gentle pull to hold his attention, letting them rest in your lap. “I want you to listen to me when i say this alright?”

Spencer gives a half-hearted nod, small streams of tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks as his emotional wall completely crumbles.

“You are allowed to struggle. You’re allowed to not feel like you’re improving, but that does not mean that you’re failing, and it definitely doesn’t mean it’s your fault,”

”You’re allowed to struggle.”

Spencer doesn’t know why, but you saying it out loud makes him feel better, and for the first time in over a week, he actually starts to calm down to a point where he doesn’t feel like he’s self-destructing.

“I’m scared….” he whispers quietly. “I’m so scared that I’m going to give in.”

Spencer sighs as he lets his head hang, small tear drops beginning to speckle the fabric of his trousers.

“Truth be told… I already have.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he says it. He’s so mad at himself.

“I only did it once, I promise. And I regret it more than anything,” he speaks quickly, trying to explain himself before you’re able to get upset.

“I’m so sorry-“

“Hey- No, listen to me Spencer,”

You tilt his head upwards with one of your hands, brushing a tear off his cheek with your thumb.

“Recovery is never a linear process. And the more you beat yourself up over it the worse you are going to feel.”

Spencer’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t make any movement to pull himself away from you.

“I just… I can’t help but feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He sighs. “I promised myself I-“

He closes his eyes and leans his cheek against the palm of your hand as he breathes out sharply. “I’m really sorry for dumping all of this on you,” he whispers, his eyes still closed.

“I just wanted to get it off my chest,” Spencer whispers. “To tell someone something without them cutting me off for once.”

“No,” You shake your head gently at him. “No apologies, this is what I’m here for Spencer,”

Spencer nods softly against the warmth of your palm. He trusts you. And about now he’s thinking that you’re the only person he would trust with this type of information.

“Sorry,” he mumbles out another apology. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I really don’t.” He sighs. “I was doing so well, you know? It took me weeks to even start feeling okay. And then everything was so much better in the office. And I was so happy and I- and then this happened.”

There’s a few moments of silence as Spencer mulls over his self-disappointment. He’d made such an effort to better himself after returning back to work, to go back to being the Spencer that the rest of the BAU were familiar with, and right as things seemed to get back on track he’d spiralled himself into another hole.

“I want to get better. But… withdrawals are hard.”

“And… I really liked how it felt.”

Spencer turns his face to speak into your palm as he mumbles his admission of enjoying the feeling. As upsetting as it might be, it wasn’t surprising. It was the main reason that people formed addictions in the first place, enjoying the euphoric release from reality that the substance gave them.

“Can… Can I ask a question? A stupid question?” His voice is quiet, slightly muffled as his lips graze against your hand.

"There’s no such thing as a stupid question Spence,”

Spencer takes a hesitant breath. “Why aren’t you going to… you know, have me fired?” Spencer pulls away from your touch to straighten his posture, leaving your hand to fall back into your lap.

“That’s the protocol, right? If someone has a drug problem and it makes them a liability.” He stares at the floor, expecting your answer to be ‘yes’ and to be asked to leave. “I… I know I shouldn’t be here. But I really don’t want to leave.”

"What the Bureau doesn’t know won’t hurt them Spence," You squeeze his left hand lightly as it remains in yours.

Spencer is shocked at your answer. For a second all he can do is stare at your hand as it remains around his, squeezing it back. “I… but… you could lose your job. Why would you…” After a second his words trail off as the severity of your words sink in. Someone cares. Someone actually cares.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Spencer’s shuddering hands finally stop. He just sits there, soaking up the warm sensation of your words, of your fingers as they held his hand in a gentle embrace.

“Why do you care?” He whispers.

“I’m here for my brains, my memory and my profiling skills. And- I can’t even do any of that right- i shouldn’t-”

As he tries to finish the sentence, his mind goes completely blank, and tears begin to slip down his face once more.

"Spencer… Those things are a part of you, but you are so much more than just that…"

Your words almost feel like a promise. A promise that no matter whether Spencer was able to hold up his ‘genius’ reputation or not, that you would still be there. That you would still care.

“No one’s ever said that to me before.” He says softly. He smiles as best he can and wipes at the tears on his cheek.

"Well, I am. you’re a human being Spencer, you should never be confined to your intelligence,"

Spencer’s heart swells hearing the words “human being”, he’d gotten so used to being utilised as a human super-computer that he sometimes feared people forgot he had emotions.

“Can I- Can i have a hug..?”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice.

He barely gets the whole question out before you’re guiding his head to rest against the curve of your shoulder, rubbing a hand tentatively down the length of his back.

He’s hesitant at first to hug you back, despite being the one to ask for the hug in the first place. Although he eventually brings himself to connect his hands behind your back, allowing himself to lean into your touch. He’s never felt so safe, so comforted before.

“I… I want the withdrawals to stop…” He says after a while, his voice muffled by your shirt.

"They will Spencer, you’ve just got to tough it out for me okay?" you bring up your right hand to run your fingers through his hair softly, gently detangling the flattened sections that he hadn’t been motivated to brush out himself.

“I never understood how hard it would be until I had to do it myself…” he says quietly. “My head feels like it’s being pushed through a giant crusher. And I… I don’t know if I can stay sober by myself.”

"You don’t have to do this by yourself Spence…" A shudder runs through Spencer’s body at your touch. He pushes himself closer into you, letting out a contented exhale.

It’s been such a long time since someone has touched him, since he’s been able to feel warm and safe. He lets out a small half laugh.

“This was meant to be a therapy session.”

"Sometimes the best form of therapy is just having someone to comfort you,"

Spencer wraps his arms around you tightly nodding into your shoulder. You can almost feel the waves of his tension fade away and turn to content relaxation under your touch.

“You smell like lavender.” He whispers after a minute. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the scent.

"It’s probably my new shampoo," You laugh lightly as you continue to gently run your hands through his hair, not at all surprised he picked up on the difference in scent. He had always been more perceptive than the average person.

Spencer hums slightly as your scent fills his nostrils, sending a wave of calm and soothing through his body. “It suits you.” He says softly.

"Thank you," You smile down at him, your eyes meeting as he looks up towards you. "How are you feeling? be honest with me…”

Spencer swallows with a small exhale. “I can still feel those waves of shakes in me, and my head is hurting.” He answers, although you can hear the relief in his voice. “But I’m feeling… better. A lot better. I can’t thank you enough for doing this…”

“Don’t thank me Spencer, I haven’t done anything, this is all you,” You carefully move a piece of stray hair that had fallen over Spencer’s forehead to fall back properly with the rest of his hair.

“No really, you-”

Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal was cut off by the faint beeping emitting from your watch.

Looks like the session is over.

He reluctantly removed himself from the soft comfort of your arms to sit up straight again, and you press a button on the side of the watch face to stop the noise. “Well uh- I guess I should go now,”

Spencer’s tone changed back to one of slight apprehension, seemingly trying to put up that emotional shield as your watch reminds him that even the respite he found in your company was temporary.

“Hey,” You instinctively call out to Spencer as you see his face fall again, you had just gotten him to a point where he was calm, and your subconscious was taking every effort to make it stay that way.

“I’ll tell you what-” Your voice is soft but slightly rushed, the words leaving your mouth as soon as they enter your head. “I’ve got a spare room in my house, how about you stay over?”

“What?” He blinks a few times at your suggestion, turning his head to face you properly.

You almost want to kick yourself for being so impulsive. I mean sure the two of you had become close over your years working together. But asking him to stay at your house? What were you thinking?

"I mean- don’t hesitate to say no if you don’t want to-" you add, attempting to downplay your sudden offer. His surprised expression lingers, and you worry that maybe you've overstepped some unspoken boundary.

“I just thought, you know- we’re friends, and friends have sleepovers sometimes right?”

You began to dig yourself into a hole the more you tried to explain yourself. Of course the real reason you wanted him there was so you could make sure that he was actually alright, that he wouldn’t fall back into a negative spiral the second he was left alone in his own apartment.

"I- Are you sure?" He asks cautiously, uncertainty tinging his voice.

You nod, mustering a reassuring smile. As much as your impulse was making you want to eat soap in the hope that it’d force you to think through your words, you wanted to be a lifeline for Spencer, and if that meant offering him a safe place to stay with somebody to talk to then so be it. Even if it was just for one night.

"Yeah... We can uh, watch that new season of Doctor Who that just came out-“

Spencer can feel his throat tighten as he looks at you. He can’t help but smile as he sits himself up, hugging you tightly with a small exasperated laugh.

“Really?” He breathes out. “You’re really sure..?”

You give him another nod, this one more confident than the last, leaning your head on top of his as he again rests it against the curve of your shoulder. “Definitely.”

“You can stay for as long as you need…”

Spencer tightens his arms around your back in response, tears threatening to spill from his eyes again. Except this time they weren’t the type that stung his eyes, followed by a wave of grief. They were almost comforting.

“Thank you…”

God, he’s been so… stagnant during all of this, and the thought of being at your place, with you, not hiding from everyone else like some kind of ghost, fills him with a type of joy he can’t quite describe. It’s like that child-like wonder coming back to him for just a moment.

“Let’s go home Spencer…”

Spencer sighs as he buries his head against your shoulder again. Of course you’d call your house home.

Of course he’d call a house with you in it home.

“Okay,” He mumbles, his voice thick with emotion as he relaxes against you, the world fading away around you.

”Let’s go home,” he repeats, the words feeling natural as he closes his eyes.

—part two.

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hey, this is my first time requesting something, but I was wondering if you could do the ROTTMNT boys x a reader who’s like terrified of needles? Like the sight of one is fine but once they hear about a finger prick or a shot they freak out and start to cry? It’s kinda weird but I experienced something like this earlier and I just got the idea… Thank You!

Hope you love it! :) <3

rottmnt x reader

S/O with trypanophobia/deathly afraid of needles

hurt/comfort? gn reader, romantic? but could be read as platonic.

mentions needles, wounds, and stitches

PLEASE just ignore if any info in this is wrong I’m not a doctor man

You had gotten injured on a mission and had a pretty nasty, deep cut on your thigh.

Not to worry, Donnie’s first-aid in on the way. So there you were in his lab as Donnie observed the cut through his goggles.

“Yeah, that’s gonna need stitches…”

Your stomach dropped, your horror evident as you squeezed your boyfriends hand. “Stitches?…with, like, a needle? No way!”

Leo

“What? Are you scared?~” Leo teased (fucking idiot), laughing a little bit.

“No! I am-” Your stomach flipped and your breathing hitched as Donnie pulled out a special needle and thread from his kit, images of it piercing your skin filled your mind. “Oh god…I can’t do it.”

“Relax! You’re in good hands!“ You looked up at Leo horrified at his words, before both turning to look at Donnie. “Hey! I’ll have you know-“

“Shhhhh! Y/N, really, you’ll be fiiine just calm down bro!” Leo patted your back. Obviously, this was not helpful. First of all, being told to calm down NEVER soothes anybody, and second he called you ‘bro.’

“Mm-mm. No! No way! Look, it’s-“ you hissed in pain as you gripped your leg to cover your wound, “…fine.”

“Not really, Y/N…” Donnie sighed, threading the needle.

“Yeah! What if it gets infected and we have to like, amputate your leg?” You knew Leo was trying to help, but he really wasn’t. Why the hell would he say that anyway? (fucking idiot)

“No, please! I can’t!” You squirmed trying to get up, desperate.

Leo lightly grabbed your shoulders, trying to gently lay you down on the table, “Relaaaax. I know you’re scared, but I’ll be right here the whole time, I swear. Besides, I’m sure Donnie is gonna numb it or whatever, right?”

Your breathing was extremely uneasy tears spilling from your eyes. “No! Stop.”

Leo grabbed your hand again, squeezing it. “Come on, Donnie, isn’t there anything else you can do?”

Donatello sighed, rubbing his temple. “ I suppose…we could try to just patch it up with some gauze, but I’m not sure it-“

“Great! Then bust out that gauze.” Leo rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

He didn’t really show it, but he was extremely worried and did feel a little guilty for not taking you seriously at first. He hated seeing you so distressed because he didn’t really know what to do.

Raph

“Why not?” Raph looked at Donnie and then down at you, he didn’t really understand.

“I just can’t, Raph, please.” You squeezed his hand tightly, your chest was tight and your face went pale at even the thought of having a needle in your arm.

“He has to Y/N, you’re hurt. Tell em’, Donnie.” Raph nudged Donnie and he sighed, a little frustrated.

“Well, Y/N…it could get seriously infected if you

don’t-“ Donnie began to thread the needle.

You began to squirm, trying to get up but Raph gently squeezed your shoulder with his free hand to keep you down, his face wrinkling in concern. “No! I-…I can’t! Stop, please!”

“It’s ok, Y/N. Raph’s right here, no one’s gonna make you.” Raph couldn’t stand to see you so afraid. “Donnie, can’t you just like, put a band-aid on it?”

To which his younger brother raised an eyebrow, a little annoyed, “No, Raphael, I can’t just ‘slap a band-aid on it.’ …but I suppose I could patch it up with some gauze and medical tape.”

“Awesome! See, Y/N, you have nothing to be afraid of.” Raph smiled down at you, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t completely understand, but he did know he wasn’t going to just let you be distraught if there was another solution.

Mikey

“Don’t worry, Donnie’ll take care of you. He’s the best in the business, baby!” Mikey beamed, not realizing what you meant. Donnie smirked at his brothers compliment, nodding a small ‘mhm.’

“No! Really, it’s ok! It’ll, ah! Heal just fine..” You looked down at your leg, the stinging, throbbing pain still surging through it.

“Nuh uh! Come on, Y/N. You’ll be fine!” Michael rubbed your back as Donnie dug through the first-aid kit and pulling out, in your opinion, an un-fairly sized needle and some thread.

You felt undeniably terrified in that moment at the image of being stitched up and having a needle pulled through your skin over and over. The color left your face, your adrenaline rushing. “No! I said no! Mikey, please!”

Mikey frowned, feeling your terror with you. “Uh, Dee…maybe you should just patch them up with some bandage.”

Donnie looked between both of you, before shaking his head, “Alright.”

“Good! No needles. You’re ok, Y/N. I’m right beside you.” Mikey smiled in his usual optimistic way and he put his arm completely around you, but was definitely still saddened. He’d never seen you so frightened before, even when you were attacked to be put in this situation in the first place. He made a mental note of this event for future reference.

Donnie

“Why not?” Donnie furrowed his brows, pushing up his goggles with his free hand, squeezing your hand back in his other one.

“Please. There has to be something else you can do.” You looked at him pleadingly, and he narrowed his eyes, thinking for a second.

“…I don’t know, Y/N. It would be a lot safer to just do stitches. For example, it could get infected, or scar, or-“ He began to thread the needle, tying the end.

“No! Donnie, don’t!” You thrashed around, trying to hastily get up, the pain in your leg worsening at the pressure.

“Y/N, hold still!” Donatello grabbed your arm gently to hold you from standing up. He didn’t comprehend how deep your fear was. “I know it’s scary, just hold on-“

“No! Stop! Get it away from me, I can’t!” You struggled, kicking your feet and tightly gripping his arm. Tears formed in your eyes, your breathing quickening.

Donnie pulled back, dropping the needle back into the kit. He wasn’t expecting that reaction, his eyes softening into concern as he finally realized your genuine terror.

He sighed, a little frustrated but trying to be understanding, “Ok. Alright, how about just some bandage and gauze? Is that ok?”

You nodded, still a little anxious as your hands shook slightly. “Sorry, Donnie…”

“Don’t apologize.” He gently and carefully wrapped the bandage around your leg. He definitely didn’t show it properly, but he did feel bad. He didn’t mean to scare you and if he had known, he wouldn’t have even suggested it. It bothered him to hear how genuinely afraid you were. He would just have to remember for next time, but hopefully there wouldn’t be a next time.

——————————————————————————

Still working on and accepting requests!!! :)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Pretty Goddamn Metal

Day #11 - Prompt: Jeff | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Piercings/Needles, Language | POV: Jeff | Pairing: None | Tags: Jeff & Goodie: Best Friends, Goodie's At Home Piercing Palace, No, No, No, Yes?, Don't Try This At Home Kids, Eddie Munson is a Bit of Freak, In Case Anyone's Forgotten

"Are you sure?" Goodie asks, and Jeff nods. He's sure. 

Well, ninety percent sure. 

Eight-five, maybe. 

He is sure about the piercing, but way less sure about Goodie being the one to do it. Maybe they should get Eddie to at least supervise.

But it's too late for that now. Goodie has the needle, a huge thing that looks like it's probably gonna hurt. 

"That's a big needle." 

"It's a cannula." 

Jeff doesn't know what the difference is. It still looks vicious. 

"Don't worry. I did my ear. And I was an apprentice under my uncle last summer," Goodie says, and Jeff's still gonna worry. 

Especially since he's pretty sure the only experience Goodie has is a two week vacation staying with his uncle in L.A., where he might have watched him work in his tattoo and piercing parlor, but where he definitely hadn't been allowed to help.

And a nipple isn't an ear. It's a hole being pressed through his skin, his very sensitive skin, by his best friend. Who is most definitely not a professional. Or an apprentice. 

Or, even an adult. 

His mom is gonna kill him. 

That's just a given. 

He won't be able to hide it for very long. Especially if Goodie gives him some sort of deadly infection and his nipple falls off. 

As if he can read his mind, Goodie wipes him, the needle, and the jewelry down with rubbing alcohol. 

He's even found sterile gloves. 

Which is all better than nothing, Jeff supposes, if they're gonna do this in the bathroom with no experience or good sense. 

Goodie moves to the ground, slotting between Jeff's knees, and even in the cramped bathroom, he's deceptively spry. Jeff's seen him move through tight spaces where it didn't look like even Gareth would fit. 

Jeff takes a deep breath. 

Goodie very assuredly grabs Jeff's nipple, and then says, "Okay. One. Two," and Goodie shoves it through, not giving him until three. 

It hurts less than he'd anticipated, and it's almost a disappointment that it wasn't somehow more. But, Goodie's already pulling out the cannula, and screwing on the other end of the jewelry. 

Fast, efficient, and with a confidence that Jeff finds alarming. Goodie's definitely a freak.

At least it's over and done with.

And now there's a bar through his nipple that looks like a screw. 

It's pretty goddamn metal. 

"Ready for the other one? Or are you a little bitch?" Goodie asks, already unwrapping the second bar. 

Okay. Apparently he's getting both done. 

And the second one? That motherfucker hurt. Goddamn adrenaline wearing off. 

They don't get infected. Somehow. It's a heavy metal miracle. They are fucking tender for a good week, but then, that's that. 

He's just a guy with pierced nipples now, and only Goodie knows. 

His mom doesn't find out, and neither does Eddie or Gareth. 

Well, not until he doesn't think about it during band practice and pulls his t-shirt up to wipe his face. It's hot as balls in the garage. They really need to upgrade and get the fuck out of this hot box. 

"Jeff's nipples are pierced!" Gareth yells, pointing a drumstick right at his chest. "Guys, Eddie, look! Did we know this?!" 

"I did," Goodie says, unphased by Gareth's over-excited outburst.

And then Eddie has his shirttail in his hand, yanking it back upwards, so he can look closer. 

They're healed, so when Eddie flicks one, it doesn't hurt. But it does feel kinda good, and that isn't something that he wants to associate with Eddie. 

"Stop it," Jeff says, batting Eddie's hand away. 

"Where'd you go to have this done?" Eddie asks, and Jeff gets it. Just like tattoos, piercings aren't exactly legal in Indiana. 

If you don't get them done at the kitchen table, you probably aren't getting them done, period. 

"I have a guy," Jeff says, cryptically. 

"You think he'd do mine?" Gareth asks, looking hopeful. 

"Absolutely not," Goodie answers. 

"Nobody asked you, Goods," Gareth snaps. "I want both done, too," Gareth says. Lifting his layers of shirts, looking at his own nipples. "Maybe barbells. So we don't match."

"Why would you need pierced nipples? Nobody will ever see them," Goodie asks, taunting Gareth. 

"You don't know what my sex life looks like!" Gareth yells, bristling, dropping his shirts and balling up his fists. 

"Uh, yeah, I do. You're still a virgin."

"So are you!" Gareth shouts back. 

This is gonna devolve into name calling and hair pulling sooner rather than later, if Jeff doesn't cool them both down. 

"Easy, both of you," Jeff says. "None of us are drowning in pussy." 

Eddie clears his throat. 

"Or cock," Jeff amends. 

"That's more like it," Eddie says, still eyeing the screw through his left nipple. 

Jeff looks at him, not sure what's going through Eddie's mind, "What?" 

"Can I bite it?" Eddie asks, pantomiming tugging on it with his teeth. 

"No!" Jeff says, "You can't bite my nipple. But thanks for asking first." 

Eddie usually bites without warning, so this is definitely some personal growth. Jeff's proud of him. 

Still not gonna let him, or his teeth, anywhere near it. But at least he asked, and didn't just go for it. That definitely wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility.

"I'd let you bite mine," Gareth says, petulant, like this is an unreasonable stance for Jeff to take. 

Eddie whips around, hair flying, "Thanks, Gare."

"If Jeff would just tell us who did it. We could all get them done." 

"Mama Jones would have your ass," Goodie says, and Jeff isn't even sure that's true. Gareth is a mama's boy and can do no wrong. His mom might let him do it.

But still. 

They can't all get them done, and become the pierced nipple band. 

"You get something else."

"What're the odds your guy would pierce my dick?" Eddie asks.

"I'd say slim to none, just like the size of your dick," Goodie sasses, and Eddie launches at him, laughing.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: A quick google search led me to believe that body piercings (outside of ears) was also illegal in Indiana until the late 90s. So that's what I went with here. If that's not true, well, just go with it, lol.

[yanderes-galore]

can't wait to see more of your funger content. My brainrot for it is always so strong 😩

Can you write a scenario for Daan where he finds his darling injured in some dingy alleyway? To add some drama points... maybe another contestant attacked them? Or maybe darling accidentelly hurt themselves when they were running away from Daan? The possibilities are endless ;)

Sure! Here you go ^^ I hope you enjoy it!

Trusting Strangers

Yandere! Daan Scenario

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Stalking, Drugging, Forced companionship/relationship.

Your meeting with each other must've been some twisted form of fate...

Although, in this festival, when is it not?

When you met Daan, you were nearly at death's door. Obviously, not everyone was going to band together against Gods in this game. If you tell people they'll die within three days... They get desperate.

Desperate enough to kill.

Just as the Gods wanted.

The encounter had caught you off guard, yet you managed to fend them off. Unfortunately the encounter had left you running blindly with your wounds drooling blood. You could only think to hide yourself and try to recover.

As you sit down in the alleyway, however... you begin to wonder if there's a point. You're in pain... blood is beginning to stain the dirty ground beneath you. Maybe you weren't cut out for this festival...

A voice breaks you from your stupor.

"Woah, The hell happened to you—?"

It's then you feel a presence beside you, quickly checking over your wounds before rummaging through a bag. You're weak... you don't bother fighting him. The man beside you clicks his tongue, a singular gray eye glancing at you.

"You aren't going to attack me if I heal you, right? You owe me for this...."

You weakly nod, not having the strength to make a fuss as you close your eyes. You hiss when you feel a metal needle pierce and thread your skin together. The pain is the first step to your recovery.

By the end of it all, you're bandaged to stop the bleeding. With a little bit of Sylvian prayer, you're good to go. Occult and medical knowledge really seem to go well together...

With this man's help you managed to feel brand new.

"Thank you... You're right, I do owe you." You smile, only for the man to shrug.

"Let's start with names... You can just call me Daan, and you?" The man in front of you introduces, beginning a friendly conversation between you and your savior.

It's here you learn his name. You learn what he does and a bit of his skill set. In return, you tell him about yourself.

Due to feeling indebted to the man and not trusting yourself alone... You end up convincing Daan to travel alongside you. He didn't seem to mind much. He even dryly comments on you being 'unable to care for yourself'.

An odd comment... yet you agree with an awkward laugh.

This man did save your life, after all.

For that fact alone you trusted Daan. Was it naive? Perhaps... but who else can you trust? He happened to be there to help you...

Now you two are traveling together. He's been the only one you can rely on. If he's saved your life...

You must be able to trust him....

....

"So now you don't trust me?" You hear Daan taunt as you hide in the very same alleyways you found yourself nearly dying in. Blood stains your shirt as you run. The familiar burning of your lungs still stings even as you hide behind a building.

"I take care of the person who nearly killed you... and you run? You run from me like I'm some monster who's going to hurt you?" Daan scoffs as he looks around, his own clothes stained in blood.

"Seriously, get used to it... Isn't the whole point of this festival murder? You didn't want to be hurt again, right?" Daan asks into the air, frowning.

You hear footsteps approach, the stench of rot and metallic blood permeated the air as you curl up. You wish you could clean off.... You wish it was all a nightmare.

"Obviously, if one person attacked you... Then someone else could." Daan hums, carefully stalking towards your location like a cat. "So I was merely leaving your side to... deal with some other potential issues."

You can hear his shoes against the stone, the sound taunting you. You begin to think of potential escape routes. Only to hear Daan chuckle darkly.

"Remember... You can't take care of yourself, dear." Daan muses. "You need me... You'll die without me."

You shift to get up, only for Daan to appear around the corner and trap you. Your heart nearly stops with how fast he is. You yelp quietly as Dann holds you in place.

"Oh so this is how you were caught before, huh?" Daan taunts, soon managing to push you over and restrain you on your stomach. "You're only proving my point...."

You glance back, your heart rapidly pulsing. Daan hunches over you, straddling your back as he grins. He means to be teasing...

But it looks almost Cheshire.

"You sure you want to fight me?" Daan hums, using another hand to pull something from his bag. "You're better off resting... All worked up over me saving your life again."

You feel something stab into your back, a liquid seeping into your blood as you struggle. Daan hushes you, a bloody hand covering your mouth as you make a small scream. Daan clicks his tongue in annoyance, sighing softly.

"Quiet... No one's going to help you. They want to kill you, don't you know that?" Daan scolds as he sees your resistance fade. "You can only trust one person... the one who saved your life..."

Daan then leans forward, whispering in your ear as you succumb to the drug he somehow picked up along the way in your journey...

"You can trust me... and ONLY me...."

[hiskillingjar]

just a doll on a string

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Vaginal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Drugging, Dollification, Blood, Light Bondage, Vomit Mention Length: 2300+ words

a very kind request from @woofykill, thank you so much, angel!

my fic commissions are open, so if you want a fic of your own, enquire within!

"Huaah..."

You let out an unsteady moan as the sharp needle slid out of your arm, a bead of blood oozing out of the pinprick in your skin.

You didn’t know the name of the drug now pumping through your system, but you knew that it was probably (definitely) the reason you were immediately feeling dazed and confused, and your brain was feeling hot.

Unable to think of words to say (would you even have any, if you could?), your heavily made-up eyes, skin coated, painted with smeared eyeliner and black kohl, peered up towards Fox as he set the empty syringe down on his desk and approached you slowly, the heels of his shoes tapping metallic *clangs* on the filming room floor.

"There we go, that's it," Fox crooned, his voice low and horribly comforting as he swept a hand through your dark hair and urged your hazy eyes upwards, the handsome crease at the corner of his own crinkling with fondness and lust. "That's a good girl. You’re responding perfectly, darling. It feels good, doesn't it? I made sure that it would…"

"Mm," You moaned softly, keening up to his touch and pulling at your handcuffs (the same that bound your ankles together underneath your thighs). They were the soft ones, pink leather with padded, lined interiors. They were there to restrain you, to keep you still, not to hurt you. "You...ahh, you didn't need to…to drug me..."

"Ah, but I wanted to, sweetheart," He replied with a sharp titter (his practised laugh, the laugh of a showman), his clawed fingers idly tracing down your heavily blushed cheeks and over your full lips. "It's just so nice seeing you so docile for me...so dreamy, so lost...like I could do anything I wanted to you and you wouldn’t have the energy to stop me. It's really too adorable. How could I possibly stop myself?"

Your lips parted obediently (mechanically, like you didn’t have control over the gesture) for his fingers and, satisfied that you had done what he wanted, he pressed them down against your pierced tongue. His golden eyes were practically gleaming as you drooled messily down them, down his palm, down his wrist, letting saliva and spittle cover your lips, your chin, pool down and soak into the front of your white top.

"Look at you," He murmured, his voice thick with something akin to awe and lust in tandem. "So messy, my girl...I'm really going to have to get that fixed, aren't I?"

You gurgled helplessly as he pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, your dark eyes rolling back in your skull at the feeling of his sharp claws raking over your tongue and the delicate walls of your windpipe.

For whatever reason, though, the painful sensations that you should have been feeling, were expecting, were replaced by nothing more than hazy pleasure, and you could already feel cool wetness begin to soak into your panties as you gagged and spluttered around his fingers even more.

If you had the mind to, you might have felt ashamed that he had subdued you so easily, so carelessly. 

But your mind was far away now, and all you could think about was the daze of pleasure you were currently floating on.

"Yes, you're getting it now, aren't you?" Fox then added, settling down on one knee in front of you, his free hand reaching up to idly grope at your chest, fingers tracing over the semi-transparent spots where your drool was soaking in the worst, making the thin material stick to your skin and sheen through white. "You're...familiar with this drug, aren't you, sweetheart? You missed it..."

"Upfff..." You groaned, trying to press your teeth together as he forced his fingers deeper, almost deep enough to make you retch and gag.

And yet, it still felt...so good.

Mind-meltingly good, even, good enough that you had to press your thighs together to stop your cunt from throbbing so much.

"You know, if pain is making you this wet," He annunciates his point by forcing your legs apart again and pressing his knee against the wet fold of your cunt, relishing in the high whimper you let out as soon as he did so. "Imagine how good true pleasure would feel, how good it would feel to take my cock inside of you...you might just lose your mind, hm?"

Without warning, he then drew his fingers back roughly, hard enough to immediately trigger your gag reflex and force a small amount of stringy vomit from your throat and down your front.

God, even the stomach acid burning your throat felt good. 

Despite the pain, despite how much it should have been hurting, you were still moaning mindlessly and drooling like an idiot all the way down your front, your eyelids fluttering like a broken baby doll as you tried to acclimate yourself to the white-hot pleasure.

"Ahh, that won't do," He grimaced at the vomit stain with a shake of his head, wiping his fingers off on his trousers. "No no, it won't do at all. Messy girl.” He chided softly with a low ‘tut-tut’. “I'm going to have to get you redressed…you know, since you can’t look after yourself properly anymore."

As if on cue, you suddenly felt firm hands reach down to the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, unclip them with ease (he hadn’t even put in that much effort to bind you, it seemed) and wrestle the stained clothing from your lax body.

You didn’t resist in the slightest, of course, since all of your limbs were totally lax and malleable as the clothing was stripped off. 

You just hoped that you’d get redressed into something cute.

Fox simply stood in front of you and the firm hands, smiling with placid amusement as you were redressed into a tight tank top (adorned with a tacky graphic in pink and white and glitter, so different from what you’d normally wear) that clung provocatively to your full, pierced chest (clung a little too tight, your breasts were practically spilling out of the thing), and a pink, plaid skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover your backside, let alone your scarred thighs.

This was exactly the way Fox wanted you, though. 

Pliant, agreeable, and dressed like a total slut.

"Much better," He praised with a sharp grin and a nod, taking his slow steps back in front of you as your wrists and ankles were chained up once more (even tighter, forcing your chest and hips to jut forward, as if you were presenting yourself). "And you were such a good girl too, letting yourself be posed and dressed, just like a doll...such a sweet, little thing."

His fingers reached down, then, and rubbed against your now bare cunt underneath your skirt, evidently satisfied when he found it drooling with wetness by the way his ears twitched and his tail immediately began to wag.

"I think I should give you a reward for that, don't you?"

Once again, you felt the authoritative pull of firm hands on each of your bound limbs, as you were pulled up against a familiar foam wedge, your limbs widely splayed outwards in spite of your binds and your half-lidded eyes rolling up to the ceiling, to the single, swinging light bulb.

The air in the filming room was cool on your hot cunt, enough to make you tremble and your nipples swell with blood and perk up, though that was nothing compared to the amount you were trembling when Fox approached you again, unzipping his suit trousers and placing a firm hand on your spread thigh.

"Just look at you," He sighed happily, sliding a hand into his underwear (expensive, Armani or some other designer brand) and slowly jerking himself to full hardness. "A helpless little doll underneath me. Everything a man like me could want. It's difficult to resist, you know." He licked his fangs idly as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit, running it up and down and feeling your oozing wetness slick up his length. "Mmf…and I've never been very good at resisting, as you well know~"

You were unable to do anything else but lie back pliantly and tip your head back as Fox's slim hips pressed to yours and he slid his cock inside of you, almost immediately groaning at the tight clench of your kegel muscles around him.

You, at the very least, had enough of a mind to make this good for him, it seemed.

You let out a long and dreamy moan at the pulsing sensation of his cock inside of you, to which he took in a sharp hiss through his teeth as you clenched up even tighter.

He somehow pinned your body down completely with his own, keeping you still, and you relished the opportunity for him to be so close to you.

"God, your little pussy is so tight," He groaned lowly in the back of his throat, his hands on your thighs clenching as he forced himself entirely inside of you. You could feel the initial swell of his knot against your slit and your entire body ached for it to fill you completely. "You fit around me so well…like…” He gasped again, his ears tilting forward. “Like you were moulded for me.”

"Nghh..." You groaned, panting wantonly open-mouthed and tipping your head back again and again as your spine arched dramatically, the short chains of each of your cuffs jangling with each hard thrust of his hips.

"If I could do nothing but fuck you all day long, I would in a heartbeat," He was panting himself (he did have a good twenty years on you, after all, and you had enough of a mind about you to be turned on by that), his free hand reaching up to the front of the tacky tanktop you'd been forced into, groping and pawing at your breast while he fucked you like he was born to do it. "Mph...too good."

"Nfff..." You bit your lip hard to hide a delirious smile, as you felt him nibble and nip at your neck, his chest pressing to yours, his twitching ears tickling your cheek and making you giggle yourself. "Sss...hah..."

"Oh, sweet girl, you can barely even speak, can you?” He murmured with an eager grin, rubbing his face against the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, scenting you like a fox would (you would know that, if you had even half a mind about you.)  “Mm, if only you could see yourself right now, sweetheart…if you could see what I've turned you into."

"NGH!" 

The sudden flash of pain was a surprise, enough to make you bite your lip unexpectedly hard, as his sharpened claws pressed deeply into your skin, tearing the flesh and muscle of your thigh and breast, and forcing rivulets of blood to drown and paint your skin with gruesome smears of red.

"Good girl," He praised, eminently satisfied by your pained reaction, as he pressed his hips even harder against yours, like he was trying to force his swelled knot inside of you (you couldn't do it easily, after all). "Good, pretty, little doll..."

“Hurts…hah…” You gasped as your hips bucked erratically against his. “Mpffff, pleaseeee, more…”

In spite of the blood, the torn skin, the damaged muscle, the drugs pumping through your system, coursing through your bloodstream and melting down your brain, made the pain feel like burning hot, overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure, easily the best you had ever felt, enough to make your mind fuzz and blur, and your vision go white.

"Oh, that’s perfect," He growled raggedly, baring his teeth like a man starved and narrowing his eyes, as he pulled his cock from your cunt and forced your soft thighs together with a mean slap. "That's just-" He then slid his cock between them, lubing his erratic thrusts with pearly beads of pre-cum and blood. "Mff...fucking perfect."

"Fox...nghh," You mewled, gasping as the head of his cock kept grazing over and over the worst of his scratches (impossibly deep, deeper than you thought any knife could ever go), feeling like he was teasing and stimulating every nerve in your body all at once. “T-Too much, hah…”

"Mm, that's no good either," He purred villainously, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and forcing your head back to the foam wedge, digging his claws into the marred skin around your injured eye as he kept bucking against the soft flesh of your legs. "You're sounding far too coherent right now, love...what, has your cocktail worn off already?"

"Nghh..." You slurred mindlessly, your body growing tense.

"Hmph, do I need to give you another dose?" He then asked, tilting his head with a broad grin, before he lowered his face down to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat from his cheeks and his breath on your skin. "Do I need to dull your brain even more so you'll always be my dumb, little doll, hm? Is that what you need, baby?"

You could still feel how hard he was, even when he wasn’t fucking you...at least he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"God, your body is so hot right now...twisted little dolly," He let out a barking chuckle (his real laugh, the one that only you saw) and pressed his cock-head back against the worst of your cuts, forcing the skin to tear and rupture even more like he was trying to create another hole. "You like it, don't you? You like that I'm threatening you and thinking about the best way to cripple your mind...mm..."

He licked his jaws before he leaned in to scent you again, and pressed a hungry bite to your neck, lighting your body up with another electric shock of pure pleasure.

"Let's try another dose first, though..." He growled, pulling back just enough so that those firm hands could plant your shoulders still against the wedge and line the needle's point with the harsh bite mark.

"Maybe I'll have to schedule you in for a lobotomy after we're done here...at least if the drugs don't work~"

[phoenixblaze1412]

One shot of Dottore experimenting on an obedient reader please 🥺

Of course^^

|Credits to the artist of the picture. If they don't allow the picture to be reposted, I will take it down immediately|

"My sweet, obedient pet."

Waking up with a gasp, you looked around your surroundings to find yourself laid down in a familiar examining table. The cold atmosphere of the room making you shiver as you watched the figure in the shadows move closer to your figure.

"Finally awake, my dear?"

You could only nod a reply to the question, your eyes too busy staring at the man before you. A mask was hiding his eyes from you so you couldn't see the way they were roaming all over your body. The smile on his face was slowly morphing into a grin as he looked down at you.

"No matter how large the doses of poison I inject in your body, your brain is still functioning and your heart is beating properly. In the end, you were able to fight against the poison and even survive."

The doctor explained as he moved away a strand of your hair so he could see the way your eyes were happily staring up at him from his praises.

"It was all thanks to you, Lord Dottore. You were the one who created enhanced antibodies that can fight off any poison. Your knowledge in science always makes the impossible possible."

Dottore chuckled at your praise as he moved his hand and cupped your cheek. The scent of blood filled your senses. It would seem that blood has tainted Dottore's hands again but you didn't care. It was your blood after all, why should you be disgusted about it when it's been inside your body.

Without a second thought, you nuzzled closer to Dottore's palm, his warmth bringing you comfort in the cold laboratory. You didn't mind if he was smearing your blood all over your cheek, what mattered to you more was how comforting he was.

"Hold still for me now, pet."

You winced when you felt the prick of a needle being pierced on your neck, the mysterious liquid being injected into your system. Dottore pulled the syringe away and placed his thumb on the area he pierced, caressing it gently so there won't be any more of your blood pouring out.

"W-what was that..?"

You asked hazily, feeling yourself becoming more and more drowsy.

"Propofol mixed with a serum I created that is supposed to regenerate your tissue and skin cells that was lost. I plan to do the experiment now after you recovered to see the results of it. You'll help me with my experiment, yes?"

Dottore cooed as he slowly took off his mask, his eyes glinting a shade of red as he grinned at your drowsy figure.

"O-of course.. anything for.. you, Dottore.."

Was all that you could say as you fell into a deep slumber. Dottore let out a hum of satisfaction as he went over to his surgical tools and picked up his scalpel before making his way back to you.

"Of course you would. You're so obedient and loyal to me."

Dottore replied as he leaned down and stared at your sleeping face. He let out a laugh at how innocent you were, sleeping so softly when he's about to experiment on you like a madman.

Sure you were given an offer to become the Regrator's assistant but you still chose to stay by his side, as his assistant and experiment at the same time. A large grin spread across Dottore's face.

"My sweet assistant..."

"My sweet, obedient pet."

[your-averagewriter]

"I thought they killed you."

Summary: (y/n) is isolated after the disaster on the beach but luckily she's found just in time but just the right people. (Rick Flag x reader)

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: Blood, injury, violence, weapons, swearing, (usual Suicide Squad things)

-

-

I stumble through the forest patting the fire out on my arm, the burnt cloth scratching against my wounds. The mission wasn’t meant to go like this - I can’t believe Blackguard sold us out. Actually I can believe it because I don’t know him, barely any of us know each other which is one of our problems, you can’t just trust strangers on a suicide mission.

So far, I imagine most of the squad is dead and those that aren’t are isolated waiting to be picked off by the soldiers hunting us through the forest.

But I keep going in the hopes that someone is alive or finding anyone at this rate would be good, friend or enemy.

Holding onto the branch above I steady myself as I try to make my way down a hill but I trip falling. I can feel my stomach reeling and despite my head feeling heavier than ever I pull myself up off the ground and continue, desperately, not knowing what’s ahead. It would be nice if next time (if there is a next time) Waller would come up with a plan B or an evacuation tactic but she doesn’t care about what happens to us so I doubt she will.

Soon after I realize that I’m bleeding from my arm, a cut, not deep but not shallow either so I rip off some cloth from my dirtied trousers and tie it around the wound, making sure there’s adequate pressure. At this rate I could bleed out from my wounds before I even get anywhere.

I hear footsteps and voices, although my head is pounding so badly that I can’t hear properly and can’t bring myself to care. Maybe if it’s some soldiers they can finish me off.

Turning the corner I can barely hold myself up but I see a familiar face I certainly didn’t expect to see.

“DuBois?” I question quietly, wondering whether I’ve lost enough blood to start hallucinating. But before I can even take another step I feel my body go limp and I collapse on myself, falling to the ground. All I hear is DuBois saying my name, worriedly before I feel my consciousness leave me.

I feel my eyelids flutter open as I’m met with a pale canopy roof. My head is killing me and my mind is fogged over with confusion and questions. I look down at my body and see all my wounds have been properly dressed and some stitched up. My skin is still dirty along with my clothes but all traces of my blood have been removed. I question why I’m here but that’s when I remember what happened before I must have passed out.

“DuBois?” I say again, quietly as I sit up. I instantly regret it as all the blood rushes to my head and I feel myself becoming faint again but it passes after a few moments.

Looking around the room, there are a couple of wooden chairs and the floor is planked - I can see through the slither of the entrance to the canopy that we’re still in a forest.

Suddenly I hear footsteps from outside the canopy and I instantly reach for my weapons but they’ve been removed so I look for the closest, best option which ends up being a syringe - it hasn’t got any liquid in it but any object in my hand becomes a weapon. I realize my shoes have been removed as I place my bare feet onto the planks, it takes me a second to stand up but after, I manage to limp quietly to the entrance.

My back is pressed up against the fabric of the canopy as I await the impending footsteps, ready with the syringe in hand.

Someone pushes the fabric aside and walks in but as soon as they do I throw my arm around their neck, effectively choking them and placing the needle so it presses against the skin of their neck, not quite piercing it but could easily be if needed.

They don’t struggle and I notice by their uniform that they’re not a civilian but whether they’re friend or foe remains unknown.

Another figure walks in behind the uniformed stranger.

Rick Flag.

My face is a painting of confusion as I look at him and then to the stranger. He walks slowly towards me.

“(y/n).” He says gently. “Put the needle down.” He says again in a soft tone as he walks towards me, hands reaching for mine. “You’re okay.”

“Rick?” I question, not entirely sure he’s there or why. “What are you-What are you doing here? I thought you…” Tears start to brim my eyes as I look at him. “I thought they killed you.” I say, my voice wavering, unable to stop the trembling.

“Put the needle down.” He’commands’ but it’s still gentle. I lower the needle slowly and release the person from my grip. Dropping the needle to the ground, Rick immediately wraps me in his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.” He reassures me, his hand stroking the back of my head as I bury my face in his chest.

“I don’t understand, I saw them, they had you!” I say. “I saw it with my own eyes!” I exclaim, tears flowing from my eyes now. “I tried to help you but they- they.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now. I escaped, you escaped. That’s all that matters.”

“And DuBois? I saw him! I swear.” 

“He brought you back here, he said you fainted just after he saw you. You were hurt pretty badly.”

“Why is DuBois here?” I ask and all the confusion is only making my head hurt more.

“Waller went behind our backs and set up a second team. We were a distraction.”

“A distraction? Fucking brilliant.” I mumble, shocked but not surprised at Waller’s actions. “We were sent to die?” He sighs but nods.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Waller can’t get rid of me that easily.” I say with a small smirk and I can tell that he’s glad I’ve kept my humour throughout this shit show.

-

AN: First piece of writing I've done in a while!

I've been doing exams and working so I haven't posted much but I've finished my exams now so you can expect me to post more (hopefully more Suicide Squad content because I LOVE the movies).

Hope you enjoyed reading and requests are open!

[14thgalerie]

don't leave

• pairing: husband!sirius black x reader

• now playing: seasons by wave to earth

• word count: 4.8k

• genre: angst, slight fluff if you squint

— rushed the ending cus i really just wanted to have this out already and my mind's a mess with our study

“I have to leave.”

There they were. The four words that tugged violently at your heart. Drowning it in waves of dreadfulness at the implication of the events that could ensue.

“I know, but what could you possibly do right now?”

Sirius’ eyebrows furrow, a frustrated look on his face as he pauses by the corridor, ceasing the thumps his dirt-ridden boots made from his heavy stomps. You knew no matter what you were about to say or do would not stop him. The sting of the painful betrayal from your friend pierced like a thousand needles in you, you could not even begin to wonder what it felt like for him.

“I don’t know.”

You drop the letter that contained the words that singlehandedly caused such mental anguish on the floor next to you, cautiously making your way to him. “We need to sit down and think about our next step, alright?” Your feet stop in their travel when you see him stretch his arm toward you.

“No!” He exclaims. “One more second I spend here is another second that I put James and Lily at risk of danger and godrick Harry, my boy. I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

In the faint illumination of the warm street lights spilling through the open windows of your living room, you could see his face contorted in agony. The sheen of sweat building on his forehead and what looked to be tears on the apple of his cheeks.

Starting with his outstretched hands, you slowly moved your hands toward him. You take them in your palms and hold them firmly in your visibly smaller palms. When you see that he made no action to pull away from you, you drop them by his side to gently cup his face. 

“I’m not asking you to do nothing, darling. I only want you to go about this properly, we would not only put ourselves at risk but James even more so.” You whisper, shaking your head. “We have no idea what they could be planning to do now that we know Peter has been ratting out our plans to them.” 

You wait. You wait for his eyes to face your direction, you wait for his hands to hover over yours as he always has done, and you wait for him as you always will.

“They need me.”

Sirius finally looks at you, and if you thought your heart couldn’t break into a thousand more pieces, well it could. You never wanted to see such despair ever grace those dark eyes, when for so long you’ve worked tirelessly to do exactly that. 

“I know.”

Your chest rose and fell heavily, and it wasn’t hard to see he did the same. There was nothing else to say, nothing that would stop him from going there.

“But please, I need you here. I know that I’m being selfish right now. I desperately want to check on them, make sure they’re fine. James is my brother, for Merlin’s sake, Sirius! But they aren’t the only ones that Peter knew about, he also knew our place.” You say, feeling a water droplet fall on your forearm. Tears unconsciously slip from your eyes, leaving your cheeks glossy.

“And I’m scared. I am so terrifyingly afraid that when you slip through that door, they will come here.” 

You found yourself holding your breath. Knowing the answer but still, you let yourself hope that, despite the knowledge he would most likely still leave for the Potters, he would choose to stay with you. Somehow he could hear the two hearts beat for him, one fainter than the other, but still loud for the man they loved.

You closed your eyes in resignation as you felt his cold cheeks leave your touch. More tears well in your eyes, you could almost feel the skin on your knuckles about to rip apart at how tight you clenched your hands.

“I’ll be quick, I promise, love. Stay in the basement until I arrive, don’t answer the door. I’ll put up a spell when I leave, alright?” He says. 

You feel his fingers interlock with your hair, his thumb firmly on your nape, moving it in an up-and-down motion in an attempt to comfort him despite himself not doing so well. 

“I don’t want to leave you all alone here but I can’t risk you being in danger there. I have no idea if Voldemort has any of his death eaters there.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You grab his wrist in a final attempt to keep him close to you, to blurt out the words that could keep him by your side.

But before your eyes twitched as you opened them, he was gone in a blink. And you were left standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the door. The warm tones of the furniture or the colour of the walls don’t hide the coldness caused by the void of his presence.

You had no idea for how long you stood still in place, only the sound of the kettle whistling from the kitchen brought you back to your senses.

You sink back into your couch with a soundless sigh. “I guess it’s just you and me for tonight.” 

Craning your head back on the cushions behind, your hands now busy coddling at the tiny bump protruding from your stomach. Hoping that it would give them comfort even though it was you who was in desperate need of it.

In order to take your mind off the endless worries that consumed you, you think back to a page you saw in a magazine from the market just earlier today. The page showed a plethora of tourist spots in Iceland, where Sirius had suggested spending your honeymoon once this was all over. The war had cut your celebrations to a minimum, you hadn’t felt like it was right to do so when more and more of your people suffered and died as the war continued.

The pictures of the Aurora Borealis warm your heart at the reminder of how excited Sirius had been when he told you all about it, the image similar to that of an excited dog jumping in his seat.

A cold breeze from the window beside you enters the dark room, leaving a trail of goosebumps running down your exposed arms. You walked towards it and huffed a sigh of relief as it closed, however, you froze in your spot as you saw a dark figure standing still a few steps away from the post lamps across the street.

But with a blink of your eyes, they disappear, not leaving a trace behind their presence. The earlier threat that loomed over you earlier came back, sending a heavy pang in your chest. You feel your gut twinge at the sight, a sickly feeling developing in the deep recesses of your body.

Sirius will come back in a few moments, he made sure the house was safe.

Right?

You clutch the window sill and take deep breaths to ease the tightness that surrounds your heart. At the thought that maybe it wasn’t enough, that they might find a way to get into your home. The thumping rhythm of your heart accelerated even faster than before. 

I need to hide, at least give myself some time to figure out how to escape. 

Your wand was all the way upstairs, it would be too risky for you to run all the way up the bedroom when they could be outside your door right now. You turned around, pushing yourself off the window, only to be pushed back, the wooden slab stabbing behind your lower back.

Before you could let out a yelp, a grimy hand reached out and covered your mouth. Their other arm comes out to press you tight against the window further, slamming his left arm on your chest. 

Your eyes darted around you to find a weapon, anything to defend yourself with, give you enough to escape and run. But when it settled on the heavy figure in front of you, you knew it was hopeless. The crazed, glaring wide eyes kept a firm contact on your face. It trailed down to his arm, the same arm that muffled your whimpers, where you knew what you would see.

“Hello, love.” A scratchy voice echoed, not from the man in front of you, however.

Your breaths become shallow, body shaking when you remember that your stomach was exposed, leaving it vulnerable to that godforsaken woman.

“Well, remove your hands away from her mouth, Crouch. How am I supposed to have a lovely conversation with my family?” She berates.

Barty rolled his eyes, about to reply but stopped himself. You let out a pained hiss as his hand leaves your mouth, knowing that there would be bruises lining your cheeks— if you were even to leave this alive. 

“What do you want, Lestrange?” You spoke, trying to appear nonchalant but the tremble in your voice made it impossible.

“Should we not be going by our first names now? We are, after all, a family now.” She pauses, “Oh right, aunt did cast him off back then.”

“I asked you a question.” 

“I just wanted to visit.” 

“That’s it? You expect me to believe you?”

“Well, maybe have some fun also. This hide-and-seek game you all have been playing at, even your friend thought so.”

“He’s not a friend.” You grit your teeth. 

“Oh! Don’t be so angry with him, shouldn’t you be proud he finally chose something of his own? That boy had always trailed after my cousin and his little group like a rat.” She laughs loudly, the sound scratching your eardrums.

She walked over to you, twirling her wand around. She hums an unfamiliar tune that you couldn’t even care to find out. You breathe heavily in nervous anticipation at her next course of action. Trying your best to hide your fear for your baby.

You watched as she took her time to observe each and every corner of the house, stilling for a few seconds on the pictures that lined the wall opposite the window. She sits in a lone chair by the couch. 

“Well, you have made my dear cousin humble.”

But you are startled as you see the details of your hardwood floors become finer, it was only when you are lying down, did you realise that Barty has suddenly thrown you to the ground. You thanked whatever god that had looked down upon you that you managed to instinctively prop yourself up with your arms.

Disgruntled, your head spins, forgetting about the two who watch your every move. Rejoicing at the fear that visibly ran through you, savouring every moment, knowing that the next moments would be the cherry on top of their fun.

You grunt when he drops to his knees directly above you. You tried to push him off but with every inch that your body moves, his knees dig deeper. At some point, you start to give up when the wheezes come, leaving you unable to breathe properly.

A sly grin crawls its way up Bellatrix’s stoic face. “Sit still, we just wanna have fun.”

“You wanna speed up the monologue? We still have shit to do.” He interrupts.

At this, she abruptly stands from the chair, the sudden movement pushing it back, resulting in a screeching noise that makes your face contort into an expression of irritation. She pushes Barty away, “Fine then, you stay there while we have a sister bonding.”

“Look at me, girl.” She snarls, pulling your face towards her.

You fervently shake your head, pulling back. Eyes plastered on the creaking floorboards.

“Oh whatever, I'll still enjoy this. Just like when I saw the color leave Potter's face.” She laughs, the sound sure to be ingrained in the deepest parts of your brain. 

You continue to stare at the pattern on the piece of wood grain and another that sticks out. You stare at it so intently that it feels like the walls surrounding you have become it. You wonder, a thousand times over, if you had just come along with Sirius, would you have been safer? If you had persuaded him just a bit more, would he have stayed?

You take in a sharp breath at the searing pain that strikes through you, starting from your arm and down to every crevice of your body. The pain punctures you with roots that begin to fester the beginnings of hatred, at the cruelty you have been subjected to. At the realisation that this is what the others have gone through.

As she continues on to inflict a suffering you have never known to exist upon you, you hear a faint wail full of agony and longing. A call brought about by the flaming pain that engulfed them with every twist and turn of the wooden stick. The same object you had once been so mesmerised by.

It’s only hours later when you lay still on the ground, in the same position they placed and left you in, mindlessly fluttering your eyes open and close that you realise that the painful sound came from your own throat. 

You could barely feel your legs as you stand, fingers gripping the edge of the couch to hoist your body from its temporary spot, emitting a low groan. Your eyebrows knit together as you tried to keep ahold of yourself after using the arm. You debated looking at the bloody aftermath but knew if you were to call for help, it’s best to save it for later.

The cold embrace you, gradually sending shivers down your already shaking body. Running down from the back of your neck and down to your feet. You touched your throat, it felt like you had drunk a glass full of a thousand razor blades.

You direct your focus to your path, to the kitchen where the phone lays, desperate to get rid of the residual pain and to relieve yourself of the scratchy, dry feeling in your throat.

A wince leaves your mouth, however, just as you gulp down an entire bottle of water. You pause at the three resounding knocks that blared throughout the walls of your home. You freeze in place.

Had they come back? 

Have they realised about the baby?

The baby…

You reach for your stomach, afraid that in your suffering, it somehow caused damage of some sort to your baby. You knew that even if you had saved it from the physical torture, there’s no saying that it was the same for the stress your body had mentally gone through.

“Y/n?”

You hear a familiar voice call out to you. But you still couldn’t move forward, only dropping to your knees in relief it wasn’t them. You leaned back on the cabinets, exhausted.

“Y/n? Are you here? Why’s the door open, it’s not safe!” The voice continues to call out.

It must have taken her too long to respond when she sees a tall figure appear from the corner of her eyes. Their wide eyes seemingly got bigger than she thought possible.

“Oh god!” Remus exclaims, rushing forward, his hands frantic against yours. “Y/n!”

His calloused hands reach out to touch your face but pull it back as it was inches away from your skin. You see his eyes harden when it comes in contact with your arm. It must’ve been so bad for him to visibly react that way.

“What happened? Wh- Who did this to you?”

The corner of his mouth forced downward, deepening as he continued to observe you. Trying to see if there was anything else wrong with you. You’re silent for a second before you answer.

“Bellatrix and Barty…” You trail off, too tired to explain.

He visibly recoils, eyes widening in alarm. His jaw drops, the expression on his face becoming heavier. 

“Ok uhm I’ll apparate real quick to Madam Pomfrey. I’m sure she has something to soothe your pain. She gave me some things back then that helped.”

“Is it that bad?” You joke.

“Now’s not the time, Y/n.”

“Alright.” You huff, annoyed that he stopped you from your attempt to distract yourself.

The pain had mellowed down from how it was earlier. However, it was still quite disturbing how you could still feel the excruciating pain from the agonising pace at that she carved your skin. You grimace as you shift around, trying to get comfortable before Remus returns. 

Eyes welling, holding your arm against your front. You bite back a groan when you accidentally graze the wound. A few tears automatically cloud your vision.

A little while later, as you continually take deep exhales, you feel Remus gently take your hand in his. “She’ll be following shortly after, for now, she said that I had to move you upstairs so you could lay down.”

You nod, giving him a cue to go ahead when he gestured with his arms to carry you. Your arms reach out behind his neck as he bends down. Laying your head on his collar, the weight of your head on your shoulders feeling too heavy now. Your eyes droop until you let the darkness cover your sight.

“Hey.” A raspy voice greets you. 

“What?” You mumble, finding it hard at the raw and scratchy feeling down your throat. With your eyes still closed shut, your eyes strain as you hear a person rumble around the room until they stop near you.

“Here, sit up a bit.” Your eyes flutter open, catching a glimpse of familiar brown messy hair since the crown of his head was pointed towards you while he was adjusting you on the bed. “There you go, now drink up.”

You drink the lukewarm water in big gulps, releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

Remus laughs at you, “You’re thirsty.”

“Yeah, well, when you’ve been screaming your bloody ass off for I don’t know how long, you’d be the same.” You retort.

“So…” he trails off.

“I don’t know, Moony.” 

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re still not up to it?”

“No, it’s fine. I-“ you stutter. You couldn’t find the right words to tell your best friend how you had been put into unimaginable pain just because some death eaters wanted to have fun.

They need therapy, that’s what they should want.

“I guess I should start from the start. So, I’m sure you’ve also got the owl about Peter apparently joining the dark side. Well, since Sirius was so worried for James, Lily, and Harry, he insisted on going to check up on them.” 

“What? And he just left you alone here despite knowing that Peter also knew about this secret place?” He interrupts.

“Yeah, and then Bellatrix and Crouch came just right as Sirius left. I think they were ordered to do something else but fuck, I guess they wanted to taunt me, us!” You take a breath. “They said they just wanted to have fun, whatever that meant to them. And here I am.”

In your attempt to lighten the mood, you throw up your hands and wiggle your fingers. Which, ultimately, didn’t do a thing to smoothen the creases that burrowed between his eyebrows.

Thud

Before a sound could leave his ajar lips, he was cut off by a loud thud followed by a series of curses.

For a second, the two of you stared at the closed door in apprehension. More so yourself, you unconsciously grip Remus's fingers so tight that it might have cut off the circulation in his hands already. You were afraid that they had come back to torment you even further, that Remus might adorn another scar.

“Oh, God!”

An all too familiar voice instead follows the sound—in a tone that had unfortunately become normal between your group of friends.

You hear him rumble through room after room, probably trying to find you. Desperately trying to push down the lump that seemed to infinitely grow down his lungs with every empty room.

It was only when the door to your bedroom slams wide open, does he feel it go away. But it was only seconds before it came back, a thousand times heavier now. You sat in the middle of the bed, hair ruly and bandages lining up your entire forearm.

He comes closer, eyes intently focused on your every movement, studying the steady rise of your chest as you take short breaths. 

You watch him come forward with hesitant steps. Taking one step followed by another after two seconds. As he was inches away from you, seated on the edge of the bed. Farthest away as he could but still close enough to hold you, afraid that you would push him away. 

“You weren’t here.” 

Your voice was so faint that the two boys might’ve almost not heard you. But the stillness of the night— the winds choosing to stay meek, leaving the trees still as they stood tall— made the bear the clench that held on tight to their heart.

Remus slips out of the room, giving you both the space you clearly needed but staying down in the living room in case you needed him. Choosing to clean up the place as best as he could, bringing it back to how it once was before they thrashed it.

“I know-“ Sirius’ hands rise from his sides, taking your face in between his fingers. You scoff.

“What do you know?!” You cried. Tears line along the corners of your eyes and down to your chin. Ones that you still haven’t noticed but Sirius did. Every drop that spilled adds to an overfilled bucket of guilt and resentment in him.

Your fists make contact with his chest, anywhere that they could land on, trying to make him feel the hurt you did hours before. 

He watches as your face slips from his trembling grip, averting your eyes elsewhere, as he had expected you to do, much to his disappointment. He sits still, unsure of what to do, or what to say. He was afraid that whatever his mind concluded on will force you farther away from him. His eyes fail to veil the inner turmoil that plagued his mind.

You reach out your hands, reaching out for something but it stayed in the air for a while before it settled on his hands which lay limp across his lap.

“Why weren’t you here?” You sob, dropping your head in his lap, your hands still holding his. “I asked you to be here.”

You shift your gaze from his lips and up to his eyes and watch as he takes his time in his search for the words to explain himself. 

“I know and I am so fucking sorry that I didn’t listen to you. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck with a man who cannot listen to his wife, a man that stupidly keeps making mistakes and suffering because of it. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here.” He cries.

“I asked you this one time. This one time, because I needed you.”

He lets out a shaky breath as he clenches your hands. His head drops above yours, leaving a trail of kisses on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that the only thing I can do now is say sorry. But if you would let me, I would beg on my knees and grovel at your feet forever.”

Sirius felt pangs in his chest, the multitude of emotions overwhelming him. But the one that permeated through farthest was the warm feeling that always wormed at him at the thought of you. He repeats the same two words, sobbing silently as he brings your hands up his lips. Mumbling similarly to a prayer.

He was incoherent. A jumbled mess that signifies the disaster coursing through him. 

“Please.”

His voice shakes as he speaks.

You feel his fingers tug at your arm, sometime in the long while since he sat in front of you, his hands traveled up your arm. Your chin drops down, refusing to stare at the man you loved— looking more like the boy who almost dropped on his knees on your porch when he ran away from his home. You knew that one look would crumble the wall you’ve set up for yourself.

You purse your into a thin line, completely at a loss for words. Sirius sneaks a glance at you, hoping to hear even an utterance from your lips. Praying that you would listen to him, to look at him as you had just hours before. 

You lower your head, pondering on your next words, how to perfectly articulate your response. Something that you find hard for you don’t even know yourself. Your mind was completely in shambles.  

“Y/N?” 

You are pulled out of your trance at the call of your name. Feeling his piercing gaze at the side of your face, you could not bring yourself to look up and meet them. Knowing that you would be a babbling mess with your thoughts all jumbled and a complete and utter shamble. 

Dropping your head on the palm of your hands, fingers slowly clenching tightly on thick strands of your hair. You feel a faint touch resting against your arm, almost hesitatingly. The cold fingertips barely grazed your arm, attempting to pull your hands away from its tight grip on your hair, before pulling it away when you finally said something.

“I was scared.” You start.

“I was fucking terrified so I can’t even imagine how it was for you.” He replies.

“Not for me.”

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean?”

You let out a chuckle. “I had this whole surprise planned and yet here we are…”

He stays silent, awaiting further explanation. But the voices on the back of his mind caused a sinking feeling to settle at the pit of his stomach. He wished that wasn’t the case because it would give him a whole other reason to hate himself furthermore.

“I’m pregnant.”

You blurt it out, feeling way too tired to jump around what you were trying to say. 

His head drops and his body shakes at the loud exhale he released. He stands up from the bed, his hands rubbing down his face.  He stands on his feet, pacing back and forth in front of you. The flurry of emotions that hit him at that moment overwhelmed him. Tears cascaded down his cheeks in a torrential downpour.

The room seemed to turn even darker in his eyes. It looked tainted. With every object he set his eyes on, instead of the rose-coloured memories he usually saw, he saw in the dullness. He hated how the walls seemed to rot with every blink, how the frames that lined your wall shattered bit by bit. He hated how he saw a reality that could've been his if his cousin decided that what she did wasn’t enough.

original ending

Sirius was paralyzed. He couldn’t make himself move as if his feet had melded with the floor. There wasn’t much he could do except to frantically shake his head in denial, in disbelief, he didn’t even know anymore.

“No. God, please tell me you’re lying to me.” His fingers twitched as an inexplicable force of pain hit him constantly in waves leaving him immobalized. He gasped for air, scratching at his chest as falls to his knees. He desperately hoped that the words he heard were nothing but a cruel lie. “No, please.”

You didn’t move an inch despite the heavy strings pulling you to him. All you did was look at your husband’s state like all your life has been drained from you. In a way, it did. 

“I’m not.” You said with a voice filled with sorrow as he kept on repeating alternates of no’s and please’s. “I could do nothing but pray that they didn’t discover I was carrying my baby and that regardless of how this night unfolds, I hoped that they would survive this.”

Sirius was barely hanging on as he is stuck drowning in the tempestuous waters of grief, with his only buoy drifting farther and farther from him. As he struggled to stand up and take a step towards you, you lept up from the bed despite the stinging pain that run through you. “Y/n, please. Let us talk about this more-” He implored, his voice getting more desperate.

You cut him off, “What more is there to discuss? You abandoned me when I needed you the most, despite my pressing for you to remain here and protect me.” Unbeknownst to him, each word you spoke, the pain within you intensified.

“I didn’t know, darling please,” Sirius tried to make you understand, but even he knew that no amount of excuses would be enough for his action. From the moment that he locked eyes with you on the altar, he was supposed to be the one to be at the forefront of your defense, but he failed. “I can take you far away, somewhere nobody can ever harm you or our child.” He pleaded. “I will never leave your side from there on. Just please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Sirius.” You put your hand forward, willing him to stop. He didn’t notice but the moment you opened your pale lips again, the magnitude of the pain weighed him down and he knew that this feeling is inconsequential to the abyss of heartbreak and agony that consumed you. “I can no longer trust you with my child anymore. How can I, when even before their birth, you left them already? You left their mother in a world where there is no assurance of safety anymore.”

His misery was a storm that relentlessly pulled him down further into its grasp. He knew that nothing could ever be enough to convince you to stay and if he were not the cause of your pain, he would push you to do this. Thus, he remained silent, unable to muster a reply. It was clear from his crestfallen face that the fragile threads of hope that held him together would soon get unravel. 

“Remus.” You called for your friend, knowing he was listening in closely to the both of you. 

Sirius couldn’t even describe how much it crashed his heart to hear you call for another man’s name instead of your own husband. It was a torturous feeling, more painful than the torment of being burned alive at the stake. He was at the pinnacle of his heartache that he was no longer receptive to his surroundings, only wishing that he could go back in time. 

In his mind, all that remained was an endless reel of memories, playing incessantly. He remembered every first, every smile shared, and every fleeting glance exchanged—this fragment of memories played like a cinematic frame rate running at sixteen frames per second each capturing your happiest days. He vividly remembers the spike in his heartbeat when your eyes first met from opposite ends of the aisle and the momentary pause it took as the words ‘I do’ left your lips. Similarly, his heart ceased beating and this time, he doesn't think it will resume its rhythmic cadence ever again. 

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

The whooshing sound behind him triggered a primal scream that emanated from the depths of his being. He broke down in tears and silent pleas for it seemed to be the only plausible outlet for the unbearable anguish welling up in his chest. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never. He was mad at himself for being the reason why the person he vowed to protect was hurt in every way possible. 

You were his second chance at life, the reason to move forward, and a departure from the dark path his childhood subjected him to. Looking up at the picture frame that hung tilted at an angle on the wall in front of him, he was left chocked up in tears that refused to abate. 

masterlist

[fiendishfables]

what do you think about maybe an one shot of gwen accompanying her gf to get a piercing? it can be any piercing, up to you 🫶 doesn’t have to be long or anything just something that came to mind

Just a pinch

pairing: Gwen Stacy x Fem! Reader

warnings: pure fluff, needles, wholesomeness, Gwen being an amazing gf, cursing, the piercer is a real one fr

genre: fluff + comfort

words: 2.4k+

a/n: I can't write anything short, apologies-This idea is so cute! I love Gwen sm, she is an absolute sweetheart; I can see her doing something like this for sure. She'd be your biggest fan! <3

"Okay, brace yourself! You will soon be entering the land of pain and sparkle!"

"Oh joy, Gwen."

A piercing was not meant to be on the agenda for the day. It was supposed to be, in fact, a fun day out; that consisted of hanging out with your girlfriend at the local mall downtown. Most of your time was spent in the arcade, where Gwen refused to move from her spot at one of the claw machines until she won you a spiderman-themed teddy bear.

After that was all said and done, the two of you had continued on your way throughout the mall, stopping in many of the various shops to explore any of the little wonders they provided. You were able to prevent Gwen from spending all of her available cash on gifts for you despite her complaining, reminding her that she already broke a sweat for you when trying to get the teddy bear from the claw machine. She relented eventually, but as soon as the both of you came across the small piercing shop, Gwen instantly pulled you inside and straight to the front desk, hand tightly gripping yours.

Of course, she had asked you first before even speaking to the worker, but when you said you'd love to get a matching piercing with her, you could've sworn her whole face lit up. For the longest time she had been trying to get you to also get your eyebrow pierced; it was almost like a moment in history for her. She wasted no time in requesting an appointment upfront for you after that; she then quickly ushered you to a seat in the waiting area.

Many thoughts were swirling throughout your head as you silently assessed the situation you found yourself in, heart beginning to pick up speed as the minutes ticked by. Somehow, Gwen had managed to convince you to get an eyebrow piercing; the same as what she had, so the two of you could be 'brow bros'. Her words, not yours.

And now here you both found yourselves.

Currently sitting in the waiting area, awaiting the call of your name from the woman who claimed to be the one in charge of your appointment; to come out from the back of the shop and alert you that it was indeed your turn to stick a needle in dangerously close proximity to your eyeball.

"I am so excited for you! You're going to look great!" Gwen said, ecstatically smiling in your direction. She had been trying to encourage you for the past ten minutes, as she attempted to calm any last minute nerves you might be clinging on to whilst you waited.

"Are you sure its not going to hurt a whole bunch?" You asked, an eyebrow raised in an almost skeptical mannerism. You trusted Gwen with your whole heart, but sometimes she tended to underexaggerate certain situations. "They are putting a needle pretty close to my eye, y'know? Last time I checked, the two don't necessarily form a good blend."

"I promise, it feels like nothing. Just a pinch!"

"Just a pinch? Really?"

"Really! When have I ever lied to you?"

"You really can't just let me win one debate, can you?"

"Maybe if you asked nicely I'd be more willing."

"Shut up."

You could practically hear Gwen smirking from right beside you without even having to turn your head; the thought made you smirk as well. Your fingers twiddled around one another at an attempt of distracting yourself from the nerves bubbling up within your chest. Whether it was your first piercing or not, the anticipation of waiting to get a needle stuck in your skin was enough to get anyone antsy.

How long had it been since you'd sat down? Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? However many, you didn't really want to think about it. The longer you had to wait, the worse the nerves buzzed.

Without warning, Gwen gently grabbed your fidgety hands in her own, giving them a gentle squeeze of what was probably meant to be comfort. A quizzical look overcame your features when you looked up and saw her seemingly serious expression.

"Hey...you don't have to do this, you know? If its making you too nervous or anything, we can always come back another time." She said, affection lacing with concern within her eyes.

You looked around the expanse of the small store then back to her, confused by her sudden change in behavior. "What? Why-"

"I know you only do that when you get stressed out or nervous." She explained, referring to all the movements you'd been making with your fingers only seconds prior. "I'm sorry if I pressured or pushed you into this; you don't have to go through with it if you're not ready or don't want to.

"Oh. Gwen-"

"You won't hurt my feelings!" She quickly assured you, holding her palms up as if in a mock surrender. "I can go up to the desk right now and tell them-"

"Gwen!" You said, louder now than you'd previously been speaking. She looked at you surprised, then bashfully, realizing she had begun to ramble. You never did like it when she tended to get too deep into her own head; but you also liked to remind her that it's what made her so unique.

A deep breath came and left your lungs as you looked her over briefly, seeing as her hands were practically crushing yours in their grip. You offered a squeeze of your own, helping release some of the tension from your knuckles.

"I want to do this, okay?" You looked at her for a good second, wanting to be sure she heard the affirmation. "You didn't push me into anything. I agreed, did I not?" A knowing smile made it's way onto your lips. "You of all people should know that I won't let anyone pressure me into doing anything I'm not comfortable with. You said it yourself; it's why you love me."

Gwen had her mouth slightly agape, almost like she was surprised you were able to use her own words of affection towards you in such a way to prove your point. You just continued to smile at her.

" I would love to be your 'brow bro'." You finished, knowing those were the words she really wanted to hear above all else.

Gwen suddenly laughed and pulled you into a tight hug, which you reciprocated almost immediately.

"I knew it! I knew you couldn't resist!" She said through her soft laughter.

"Oh, come on. I love you too much, how could I resist? Besides, being a 'brow bro' sounds totally badass if you ask me." You said, grinning like a dork. "You always manage to come up with the strangest names for things, Gwen Stacy."

"It truly is a gift, isn't it?"

While the two of you were busy cracking stupid jokes and giggling like school-girls, the piercer responsible for your appointment finally called out your name, causing both you and Gwen to jolt upwards. Your girlfriend gave you an encouraging look, gripping your hand as she assisted you in standing from your chair. She made an effort of handing you the teddy bear she had won you from the arcade earlier, as it had been sitting on its own chair besides your own. You gladly took it from her and tucked it under your arm with a grin and quick roll of your eyes. Your affection for one another was unmatched.

"C'mon," She said, grinning. "let's make it official."

You sat on a comfortable lounge-like chair in one of the back rooms of the small shop, where they did the piercings. Gwen was beside you, sat atop one of the extra chairs provided for bystanders in the room. She held your hand in her own, smiling reassuringly at you as the worker who would be administering the piercing sterilized a needle for the job, humming softly to herself as she glanced at the two of you.

"It's okay to be nervous." Gwen told you softly, running her thumb over your knuckles. "I was terrified to get mine done, but hey, it looks cool, right?"

"You weren't scared at all, were you?" You deadpanned.

Gwen rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly as you looked at her. "Well to be honest, no." She took a breath and let a bright smile fill her face. "But hey! I forced my dad to hold my hand, so that's got to count for something, right?"

You rolled your eyes with a soft chuckle, noticing the proud gleam of pride in Gwen's eyes at being able to make you less nervous about the whole situation. It was her forte after all.

"Alright, missy. You ready?" The piercer had turned away from the counter full of sterile tools and was now looking at the both of you, surveying the situation as Gwen tried to calm you in any way she possibly could; yet she spoke to you specifically.

"Yep. This one here has been hyping me up for the past half-hour." You said, tilting your head in Gwen's direction. She offered that same bright smile to the worker, even offering a small wave of her hand that was not yet occupied with holding one of your own.

"Well then, hopefully this all goes smoothly for you. Though I like to think I'm pretty good at my job; no one has died yet." The worker said with a grin of her own, obviously finding the two of you to be humorous; something she could learn to appreciate after dealing with not-so cooperative clients. It was always a breath of fresh air to see young adults trying a new sort of style, and it kept the shop in business. The small piercing shop was most likely the only one in New York that did not require adult supervision to get a piercing(unless you went to some back alley, which wasn't ideal), so keeping up was never usually an issue.

Gwen and you both chuckled at that, feeling the blonde pat you hand she already held within her own.

"I'm right here. You're going to be fine, I promise." Gwen told you softly, watching as the worker approached you and stood on your other side with the sterilized needle ready. You nodded, silently thanking your girlfriend for her never-ending support in the moment, taking a few deep breaths as you turned your head to face the worker when she asked you, positioning the needle right on your eyebrow.

Within the count of three seconds, she had pushed the needle through the delicate skin of your eyebrow, causing your nose to scrunch up a bit in discomfort but stay still as a rock nonetheless. You could feel Gwen's grip tighten on your hand, and hear her praises towards you as the piercing process commenced.

"You're okay, you're doing great!"

"It's almost over, just a second more."

"I love it already, babe!"

As soon as the process had begun, it was over. After assuring that the jewelry piece was firmly set how it should be in your eyebrow, the worker complimented you on your bravery and ability to stay still with an almost proud, parent-like smile, before busying herself with cleaning the needle once more and getting everything set up again for any other clients she may be seeing that day, if any.

You got out of the chair, and, with Gwen's hand still in yours, made your way out of the room and up to the front desk in order to pay. The piercer had given you a discount for your appointment, claiming it's because it took her longer than usual to get set up and get the two of you back to the room; but both you and Gwen knew it was most likely because she found your dynamic to be the most wholesome she had yet to witness, especially when getting a piercing. Hey, neither of you were about to protest; 50 percent off was 50 percent off.

"Ahh- I love it!" Gwen exclaimed excitedly, grinning like she'd just won a million bucks. To her, your company and happiness were worth just that.

Seeing you adjust and examine the small piece of jewelry now stuck in your eyebrow with an awe and undoubtable joy, using her cars rearview mirror to see yourself, just made her heart melt. She remembered feeling the same way when she first got hers done. It made you feel brand new, in a sense.

"I love it, too!" You said, grinning as the two of you agreed. You delicately pushed the mirror back into place as you settled comfortably back down in the passenger seat. "Guess this officially makes us 'brow bros', huh?"

This earned a genuine laugh from Gwen, as she gently grabbed the rearview mirror after you finished using it, adjusting it to her liking before letting her hand fall back onto the steering wheel. She just playfully shook her head, loose strands of her hair moving to fall slightly over her beautiful blue eyes.

"You look amazing, you know? It really suits you." She admitted, a shy expression overtaking her features, causing your newly pierced eyebrow to lift.

"You've only been telling me since we left the shop." You responded, smiling as she laughed again, watching as her ears turned a light shade of crimson. "Though I am so lucky to have you as my personal cheerleader." You softly elbowed her in the ribs and she swatted your arm away.

"I'm being serious!" She exclaimed, trying to stop laughing. "Shit looks badass!"

You snorted, amused. "I will admit, it was very well worth it. Not as bad as I previously thought."

"Duh." She replied, rolling her eyes like you had earlier, in a teasing manner. "I told you, didn't I? Just a pinch."

You held up your hands in mock surrender, smirking at her. "Just a pinch."

She shot you a smug grin. "You do know this means you're stuck with me, right? I mean, I can't have my 'brow bro' up and leaving me, y'know?"

You laughed loudly and put an arm around her shoulders, leaning over the divide between your two seats to give her a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek, looking triumphantly on as her cheeks filled with color and she leaned into your touch.

"And you know I wouldn't have it any other way."

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You explain everything to the guys and have some bad news in the end

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism, mention of experiments, lady with an axe, needles, missing people, some creepy stuff I WARNED YOU -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. Also I wrote this with like two hours of sleep so yk

-> Masterlist

-> Part five ; Part seven

-> The Wendigo Project (06)

You were in Mrs White’s office, lounging on her luxurious leather couch. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the room as you unwrapped a candy she had given you just before she started shouting angrily into the phone. You had witnessed many of her outbursts before, mainly towards her employees, so her current anger didn’t surprise you. She usually kept you out of earshot during these episodes, but for some reason she didn’t ask you to leave that time.

You didn’t mind, as her couch was more comfortable than your bed and her office widow provided a view of the woods outside. So you were simply chilling as she was red in anger.

“You’re an idiot, Mike! That was the only - no, don’t blame this on me! Do you know how hard it is to find one? That was our only subject and you killed it!” She kept shouting, piquing your curiosity this time.

“I don’t care! How can we continue working if we’re empty handed?! I don’t care if we have one last sample, our main resource of blood is dead! ” Her yelling continued, and you sat up straight as she started to smash things around. “What?! Don’t you even dare suggesting it.”

Then, she glanced at you. “No.” She said, after debating something in silence. “She’s needed alive - you know why.”

You frowned. Was she talking about you?

“I don’t care. She’s- Michael.” That sounded like a warning. “Everything’s going to shit here, if she dies we lose our only- how can you be sure? I know what she is, don’t forget I was the one who gave b- yes, but I don’t think she can take it. If she turns, I’ll lose my only tie to him and I can’t risk it.”

She sighed, sinking down on her chair behind her desk - her eyes flickered to you once again. “If she dies, I’ll destroy everything you hold dear, which is yourself.” She said, letting out a defeated sigh. She agreed.

She hung up the phone, throwing the object on the desk in front of her. You two stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, as you knew better than to talk to her whenever she was having these moments. But she spoke first.

“Kid?” She glanced over at you.

“Yeah?”

“You have a mission. The most important one, and I need you to survive. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do anything.”

You vaguely remember exactly what happened next, but you knew it messed you up completely.

Mrs White had a worried expression on as her scientists secured you to the bed, with countless needles piercing your skin. The pain was deadly, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. But you could take it, you had to. It was for the greater good.

You fell finally unconscious after a while, still unsure to this day if it was due to the horrible pain or if they gave you something. When you finally awoke, your senses were intensified - every sound, every smell, every sensation was amplified making you feel lost and disorientated.

Not to talk about the headache, but it was all worth it. As soon as you saw Mrs White’s proud smile, you decided then you’d do it all over again. Praises came from left and right, you were being treated better than before and you finally, finally made it to a higher level. You were finally allowed out of the facility, actively fighting on the field.

You had new super strength and stamina, able to lift weights that you couldn’t before. The only human who survived to the “Wendigo Project” without turning into a monster but still having the creature’s abilities. Super strength was one of those, but the one Mrs White was the most proud about was the fact that using your blood, they were able to create more things like you.

None of them turned out like you though, each one of those subjects turned into a tall, pale monster with sharp teeth with an unnatural hunger for human meat.

However, that stopped being a problem the second they found out you were able to control them. In that second, Hydra had their most lethal weapon. Wendigos can’t die easily, and they can live for hundreds of years with minimal care. They’re strong, incredible hunters during the day and unmatchable during the night - that’s what Hydra wanted and they got it because of you.

≈

Dean, Sam and Bucky were looking at you in silence as you finished explaining yourself, and you’d lie if you said you weren’t scared of their judgment. You had purposely avoided this topic because you knew that people would look at you differently, and how could they not?

Not only you had the blood of a pureblood monster, but you helped them creating new ones. You were the reason why so many people were torn away from their lives - it was all because of you. Even the monster downstairs, whether it was Cassandra or not, was one because of you.

“So… the reason why they won’t attack you is because you have their blood?” Sam blinked a few times, and you could see he was looking at you differently now, as if you were a time bomb.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“Why can you control them?” Sam frowned. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” You said, sighing heavily. Unfortunately a lot of questions were still unanswered. “I just… do. It comes naturally.”

“You look good for being one.” Dean said, gaining a glare from the other two men. “What? It’s true. I’m not blind.”

“This makes no fucking sense.” Bucky spoke after a moment. “Why you? Why didn’t you turn into… that.”

You shrugged. “If I knew I would have told you.” You said. “But unfortunately no one ever told me in the first place. I’m as clueless as you are.”

“But the Wendigo only eat human meat. Did you… eat it? Ever? Do you feel the need to?” Sam asked, cautiously scanning your face almost as if he was trying to find some similarities to the monster downstairs. His usual softness was replaced by a look of mistrust, and you saw his hand on the holster on his belt, probably holding a knife.

Useless anyway, and he knew it.

“No, to both of your questions. God, just the thought of it makes me sick.” You scoffed.

Bucky followed your gaze, noticing his hand placement too. “If you make any sudden movement I’ll snap your neck.” His voice was incredibly low - and hot. He was hot, and if it wasn’t for his hatred towards you, you would have shot your shot already. Anyways.

“Let’s all just take a step back, alright?” Dean interjected, getting slightly between Sam and Bucky. “Sam.” He warned. “The knife.”

Sam’s gaze darted between you and Dean, uncertain, as he eventually raised his hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s just… we’re used to kill things like you.”

“Speaking of which…” You begun, curious to finally find out who you have been dealing with for the last few days. “Who are you two?”

“We’re hunters.” Dean replied matter-of-factly, with a proud little grin on his face.

Bucky’s brows knitted together in confusion, mirroring your own. “Why would Fury send two hunters to help us? We’re not dealing with animals here.” Bucky said.

“We don’t kill animals.” Sam clarified. “We hunt supernatural creatures. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons… anything you can think of.”

You raised a brow, and as you were about to question him further you were interrupted by Bucky’s laugh. The three of you looked at him taken aback - not once you had heard that sound coming from him in the year you had worked together.

“What? You don’t believe us?” Dean asked, a hint of offense in his voice.

Bucky’s laugh died down, replaced by a wry smile. “We play chess with an alien tree, of course I believe you.” He remarked dryly - that wasn’t really a happy laugh, now that you heard his next words. “Oh my god. All I’ve ever wanted was come back home from the war and live my life, now I’m stuck in an attic with two ghostbusters and a cannibal when downstairs a lady with an axe is dismembering someone. Life is fucking crazy.”

“Hey, I’m not a cannibal!” You protested with a scowl. “How do you know the ghostbusters?”

“Parker.” Bucky scoffed.

“Really? I thought you didn’t like the kid.”

“I don’t like anyone.”

“Fair.”

You all fell silent as soon as you started to hear someone, Mrs fucking Miller, dragging a heavy weight across the floor downstairs.

“We need to leave.” You said. “We need to get home and try to make some light out of all of this.”

* * * *

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Dean looked at you from the mirror of his car, making you roll your eyes.

“If you ask that one more time I’ll bite your neck.” You playfully remarked, sinking down on your seat.

Escaping the house without a scratch had been a stroke of luck, especially considering Bucky’s suggestion to jump out of the first window you came across - a plan to which surprisingly everyone agreed to. You and Bucky were fine, obviously, but for a second you got worried about the brothers’s sanity since they didn’t have super abilities like you and the Soldier.

As you drove away in Dean’s beloved car, leaving that house behind you for what you hoped was the last time, exhaustion fell over you once again. After all, it had been a long day for all of you.

Not even Dean’s driving was as reckless as usual, which only confirmed your words since the man drove thinking he had six lives. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He joked, catching your eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Cut it.” Bucky muttered, his irritation quite evident.

“Jealous?” Dean teased, only to gain a deadly glare from Bucky. “Don’t worry man, I have my eyes on someone else.”

“Who gives a fuck. Just shut it.” Bucky grumbled, getting more comfortable in his seat and closing his eyes. At the view, you were embarrassed to admit that you almost couldn’t look away - he looked angelic, at peace, and for some reason that made your heart flutter.

You needed to have a fucking grip on yourself and remember who he was. For God’s sake.

“You okay, Sam?” You then asked, noticing how his leg was bouncing up and down. He sat in the passenger’s seat, lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside of the window. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was still processing what you had confessed earlier, considering his job was to literally hunt your kind and other things.

“I can’t stop thinking about this situation.” Sam sighed, concerned. “There are a hundred things I don’t understand. Like… how can a woman like that keep a Wendigo locked in a room as if it was just a wild animal? She’s not mentally stable enough to do that, and that thing should have ripped her apart in seconds - instead, Mrs Miller feeds that. I saw - I saw her dismembering someone when me and Dean broke into her house, how can she do that? She may be crazy, but not strong enough to kill someone and drag the body around like it weighs nothing. Maybe she has someone doing the dirty work for her.”

“She may. Also, why didn’t it eat her? Not only did the thing not rip her apart, but it keeps not doing that.” Bucky inquired. “Did she domesticated it or something?”

“I was wondering that, too.” Dean sighed, stopping the car momentarily at a red light. “The Wendigo works alone, and they prefer alive preys. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll figure something out tomorrow, with a clear head.” You said. “But I do have a question for you two: how did Fury find you? I didn’t know he knew about all of this.”

“Oh, he knows everything about it.” Dean confessed, leaving you both you and Bucky perplexed. “What? You’re telling me you find that weird? Or did you really think Fury and his team only dealt with aliens and Hydra?” He chuckled. “The man has connections everywhere, even with hunters. The Avengers think about global threats, we think about local threats.”

“But… how? He never told me that.” You looked at Bucky. “Did you know?”

“No.” He answered, and he seemed honest.

“How do you think Fury found you when you were with Hydra?” Sam asked you.

“I figured he… found some leads that led to my facility?” You answered, uncertain.

“It wasn’t Fury who found you.” Dean corrected you. “It was my father. He was following the steps of a Wendigo, a female, when he found out the place you were being kept at. He proceeded to tell Fury… and here you are.”

“I feel my brain burning.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to process everything - but your mind just didn’t want to work anymore. “I’ll have a talk with Fury as soon as I can, when this is over. For now, I just want to find out where Adam Barlow lives so maybe he can tell us something more about Cassandra. This situation is getting weirder by the second.”

But you should have known better than to harbor hopes.

“What the f- hello!” Dean smiled, rolling down the window as a police officer signaled for him to slow down.

“Hello.” The police officer replied, holding up a picture of a man you had never seen before - not that you could see much from the backseat. “Have you seen this man?”

“No, sir.” Dean shook his head. “Why?”

“This is Adam Barlow and he’s been reported missing. If you have any news, please let us know.”

…

That had to be a joke.

[cumulo-stratus]

Trypanophobia

Request- yes/no

Pairing- Spencer Reid x FtM!reader

Summary- spencer helps you with your T shots because your fear of needles is getting in the way <3

Warnings- Needles, discussions of fear of needles, Spencer being a pookie bear 🫶

A/N- thank you so much for the request lovie!! We love a good ftm reader ☺️🫶 and thank you everybody for all the love recently, I've had a lot of fun writing more often!!

wc- 1.1k

This wasn't supposed to happen. 

It wasn't supposed to go like this. 

Spencer was supposed to be there with you. 

The needle shook between your fingers, you could barely hold it with how intense your hands trembled. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, the perpetual sound of the whirring fan above you. But the shaking wouldn't stop, you even tried your other grounding strategies, recommended by Spencer's bubbly coworker, penelope. But you couldn't get the needle straight- and you probably wouldn’t. But you had to try. 

Ill tell you, trying didn't work- you couldn't stop spiraling at the idea of a sharp object piercing your skin. And now you were left with a still full of testosterone needle on the floor next to you, tear stained cheeks, and a boyfriend who wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another four or five hours. It was a sticky situation and you were left reeling at the fact that this would have to be done at some point. You didn't want the little testosterone you could afford to go to waste, after all, the FBI is not as lucrative of a career as one might think, and you don't get paid to go to university.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, and doubts to hear the sound of the door to your apartment opening and closing again. 

Spencer. 

Your saving grace Spencer, as he always was and always would be found you sitting on the floor of the tiny bathroom, leaning against the toilet and crying with a needle in your hand. Spencer's mind immediately went to the worst, his own fears and experiences flooding his memory- but then he saw the little bottle labeled ‘Testosterone’, and lots of other little labels he couldn't read. 

“Oh darling what happened? come ’ere.”

Spencer opened his arms and invited you to lean into him, just as you often did. but today you needed it more than most days. 

“I- I i’m sorry- i shou-“

“don’t apologize- we all have hard days, just tell me what happened okay love?”

you nodded, knowing there was no arguing when he shuts down your apologies like that. his hands started rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion, trying to calm the occasional sob that still bubbled up. You took a breath before responding, trying not to let your voice crack when you spoke. 

“i tried spencer- i tried so hard to do it on my own- but I can't. And I know I should, it's just a needle it's not that big a deal! but- but-“

Words tumbled from your lips so fast that your brain could barely keep up, but you were interrupted again by Spencer pressing his lips to yours, effectively stopping you from rambling any further. When he pulled away there was a smile on his face, and you couldn't stop the small, sorrowful smile that slipped onto your lips when he kissed you. Spencer's kisses always did that, they always made you smile.

“slow down handsome, i'll do it for you it's okay,”

Spencer's tone was soft and caring, his voice never failed to quiet your thoughts. But you still couldn't bring yourself to look in his eyes- old habits die hard and accepting help from others, especially when you were vulnerable like this was a hard drug to kick.

“Are you sure? you don’t have to if you don't want to- don’t feel like you have to,”

Spencer just chuckled and picked up the needle from its fallen place on the white tile, his encyclopedic knowledge coming in handy, allowing him to know how to properly clean and handle the needle.

Spencer decided to lead you from the bathroom and onto the large, plush couch which offered much more comfort than the bathroom floor. He made sure your left leg was hanging off the couch and that your shorts were pushed up so he had access to it your upper, outer, thigh. All his motions were gentle and intentional, carefully trying to make the experience as comfortable as possible despite your fear of needles. 

Spencer could still sense the doubt in your eyes at the notion of him doing so much for you, but he put that to rest by taking your hand in his and placing a kiss on the knuckles and reassuring you, “You know i don't mind taking care of you, you know- i actually enjoy it. You're my prince, I'm gonna treat you like it-” Spencer had an almost bashful smile on his lips when he spoke, causing you to blush.

“i know- i just dont think im ever gonna get used to it,”

Your comment made Spencer chuckle as he did the final preparations for your injection, he was honestly more giddy then you were for your first shot. But Spencer had always been one of your biggest supporters in your transition.

“Alright I'm gonna count to three, and do the shot on three, ready?”

You nodded and steeled yourself, turning your head the other direction so you wouldn't have to look at it. With everything set, spencer began to count.

“1…2…3…”

Spencer poked you with the needle on two.

You yelped and turned to Spencer with an incredulous look on your face, mouth agape at his perceived betrayal. Your boyfriend smirked, leaving a peck on your cheek before saying, “ baby your muscles were gonna be tensed and it would’ve hurt more if I did it on three- I did it all out of love,”. The playful tone of Spencer's voice matched his expression, and you mirrored it- all notions of betrayal forgotten for Spencer's soft touch as he pulled you into his arms for a bone crushing hug. 

“I'm proud of you, you know. Trypanophobia affects 1 in 4 adults, and you have to do this everyday now! you’re so strong, even if you need some help sometimes..”

Spencer punctuates his statement with a meaningful kiss to your lips, holding your hands as he does. His palms radiate heat into your own slightly chilly extremities. Spencer was practically a human heater, and you always took advantage of it in times like this. 

You eventually pulled away for air with a smile, but it fell again and you leaned your head back with a groan. Immediately spencer was worried he’d done something wrong, but his worries dissipated when you spoke again,

“I'm gonna have to do this everyday! for the next who knows how long,”

You punctuated your complaint with a groan, your head flopping back forward to smush your face into your boyfriend's shoulder, muffling the groan. Spencer just chuckled and placed a small kiss on your scalp, and mumbling,

“And i'll be there for every one of them.”

The End