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rootedinrevisions · 30 days ago

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Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics.

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down.

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around.

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms.

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips.

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air.

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible.

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes.

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

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buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They��re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

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silversurfersx · 2 months ago

Text

skater girl | max verstappen

max verstappen × driver!reader [smau]

summary: some drivers take scooters around the paddock, some walk and some just ride a skateboard, steal dogs and just won't take max verstappen skating

faceclaim: just some girls I found on pinterest :))

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: found a dog, took him home and showed him how to skate (his dad wanted to supervise 🥴) ☺️🥰🐶

tagged: roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

roscoelovescoco: I had's a lots of fun's! 😍

yourusername: I did too, maybe next time we could have a playdate without ur dad 🤔 roscoelovescoco: dad says no 😥

maxverstappen1: why do you take him skating but you always tell me no 😓

yourusername: cause if you fall off, redbull will have my head😅 maxverstappen1: who says I'll fall off? yourusername: me maxverstappen1: that's mean 😥 yourusername: it's true tho 🥺

user1: that is the cutest 😍

user2: I wanna go on their skate date too :((

lewishamilton: 🐶🛹 {like by yourusername}

user3: cuties ❤

___

liked by carlossainz55, mickschumacher and others

yourusername: did some good racing, got some good points and found some cuties on magazines at the shop 🥰

(also I think mick is trying to murder me, pls send help 😦😕)

tagged: mickschumacher, carlossainz55, maxverstappen

mickschumacher: I am, you stole my lunch 🔪

yourusername: I didn't see your name on it 🤷‍♀️ mickschumacher: it was right in the lid, in CAPITAL letters 🤨 yourusername: 😮💀

carlossainz55: ay cariño 😍 {like by yourusername}

yourusername: ay chili 🥰 {liked by carlossainz55}

user4: awesome drive, girl 🔥🔥

user5: p4, LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

maxverstappen1: so you bought a magazine just because of me? 🤔

yourusername: no, it had a skateboard on the front 😚 maxverstappen1: sure, sure yourusername: 💀 maxverstappen1: btw, did I see you let mick ride your skateboard earlier today 🧐 yourusername: yes maxverstappen1: so he wants to kill you and can still ride it, but I don't 🤨 yourusername: well, I know he's harmless, but the energy drink company u drive for has proper means to 💀 me user6: damn, just let the poor guy ride for a bit {liked by maxverstappen1} yourusername: no

___

yourusername posted a story

If you saw me fall, no you didn't, thanks kym for not posting that little mishap xD

maxverstappen1: can I ride now?

yourusername: no maxverstappen1: 🥺😥 maxverstappen1: then I'm not gonna let you visit sassy and jimmy 🙍‍♂️ yourusername: don't put the babies in the middle of this, max! 😡 maxverstappen1: your decision 😏🤷‍♂️

___

liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1: good times 🏊‍♂️🐱

tagged: yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: you know what your doing...😐

maxverstappen1: you know my conditions, meanwhile I've found a substitute mom yourusername: I will not forget this...

fernandoalo_oficial: it was so nice to meet the two🥰

yourusername: you have no idea what you just started, nando fernandoalo_oficial: what?

user7: what is going on here? 👀

user8: I think max is threatening y/n user7: with his cats? 🧐 user8: ...apperantly

landonorris: why did you take fernando to see them but not me 😦

yourusername: would u say you've been betrayed? landonorris: maybe... 🥺 yourusername: would a little ride on my skateboard make you feel better? landonorris: maybe 😲 maxverstappen1: oh, come on!! user9: oh this is evil, I love it 😂 {liked by yourusername}

___

yourusername posted a story

Little skating lesson w @ landonorris, it was a complete fail :/

maxverstappen1: if I reinstate you visiting schedule for jimmy and sassy, could I have a go 🥰 please 🥺 yourusername: I might consider it 🤔 if you promise to keep me save from redbull if something should happen maxverstappen1: I swear on all the cats in the world �� yourusername: oh wow, that is a big promise 😯🤨 maxverstappen1: it's a big deal 😊

___

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc and more

yourusername: I finally gave in just for him to decide it wasn't for him and order sushi instead to the skate park 😐

tagged: maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: does that mean I can ride your skateboard now too?

yourusername: oh for gods sake 💀

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #mick schumacher #charles leclerc #lewis hamilton #f1 smau #f1 x reader

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birdyisthewordyy · 17 days ago

Note

Can you do headcannons of how the mouthwashing crew would react if the reader wiped their kiss off their mouth?

I LOVE THIS PROMPT ANON!!! this has such silly potential

Curly

You’re joking around together

One of those “I could just kiss you” moments

So he does!!!

Imagine his surprise when you stick your tongue out and wipe off the kiss

“(Name???) *nervous laugh* are you messing with me?”

Thinks you’re mad at him

Tries to make it up to you

“Sweetheart… are you okay?”

You eventually drop the act and kiss him

He’s so relieved

Jimmy

Jimmy rarely initiates sweet kisses with you

He’s a makeout type of guy

But he’s got his moments!!!

He pecks you on the lips as a thank you for helping him give Curly his painkillers

“Thanks. It gets annoying having to do it on my own.”

You wipe it off casually

Does a double take

Wtf

“Did you just wipe your lips???”

Lowkey highkey pissed

“The fuck?”

When you explain you’re just joking he stays pissed for like a full day

Swansea

Kisses you also as a way to thank you

Pecks you on the cheek for helping him with ship maintenance

(You just held tools)

He’s still grateful

When you wipe off your cheek he raises an eyebrow

“The hell?”

Not exactly mad because he figures you’re messing with him at first

But he doesn’t appreciate it either

“What was that about?”

When you giggle and explain he softens a bit

“Not funny.”

He’s smiling

Daisuke

Is peppering your face with kisses

Has you basically pinned down

You pull away and wipe your face

Is so upset

“Whaaaaat? You love my kisses! :(“

Thinks something is wrong

“What’s going on baby?”

You can’t pretend for a second longer

You hug him and apologise profusely and explain it was a joke

“Leave the jokes to me if you’re gonna be mean >:(“

You kiss his cheek as a sorry

Anya

She kisses you as you’re getting ready for bed as a goodnight

When you swipe your cheek she looks heartbroken

Feels so bad

“Did I do something, hun?”

Tears in my soft Anya eyes

Apologize to her pls

Like Daisuke you cannot stay strong for long

Make it up to her by staying in her quarters and watching a movie with her please

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grimmsbride · 21 days ago

Note

would you be willing to write for daisuke and a chubby fem reader... can be fluff or nsfw hcs idc either way I love he sm and your writing for him is perfect 😭😭😭 if not feel free to ignore :) have a great day !!

FOR HER [ daisuke x chubby!reader | hcs ]

fluff & nsfw headcanons surrounding daisuke and his lovely, chubby lover

notes / when ever i write i always try to depict reader as chubby it warms my little heart. & i’m so happy you requested this- i’ve been trying to avoid headcanons but this ask was too good to pass up! & i’m so happy i got a request! ty sm anon <3 as always please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes i’m low-key half awake

FLUFF

- First off I firmly believe Daisuke is fluid in what he likes, which also means the size of his partner. I genuinely think he wouldn’t care how “big or small” they are, as personality is something he’s after.

- But your beautiful appearance was of course a plus.

- You were an intern under Anya, meaning you frequently came into contact with Daisuke. Whether it be him lightly injuring himself or you conducting an evaluation ( under the guidance of your mentor ) the two of you have grown to get along, your age & mutual interests being a factor.

- Slowly though, that affection grows romantic as time passed. I mean, Daisuke’s a young adult trapped on a ship with a beautiful woman his age— how could he not fall for her?

- It doesn’t help he’s obvious as hell to the other crew mates. Always staring at you or after you, quick to greet you each morning, glancing at you when a joke is passed just to hear your sweet laughter. Daisuke is enthralled and it’s not surprise to anyone — except you.

- Maybe you’re naive, maybe focused on your tasks? Maybe you just failed to notice. Either way, you were a little more than clueless to his lingering feelings.

- Even when he’s sharing his stolen sweetener, allowing you to play on his game boy, or even being rather touchy — hugs & accidental grazes — you’re truly lost to what he wants.

- Only when Daisuke accidentally lets out a “God, I’m in love with you..” when you beat a level on his game did you catch a single clue.

- From then on the two of you begin your relationship, Daisuke all to eager show his love for you. Always close to you, checking in on you when he can, even sharing food when he realizes you hadn’t had a break — he’s a doting partner no matter what.

- Daisuke also likes to give you that gaudy shirt he wears when he can, feeling just a tad bit a pride when you wear his clothes — even if it’s a little tight, he doesn’t care.

- Though once Jimmy does make the off chance about you “stretching out the boy’s clothes” which makes you a little reluctant to wear them again.

- Daisuke is quick to shut that down though, declaring even if you purposely ripped it to shreds he truly wouldn’t care— a shirt really means nothing compared to you.

- From that point on Daisuke makes it a habit to compliment you, your size, everything. He doesn’t care, but realizing you do fuels such behavior. At times his compliments are questionable but his loving face surely makes up for it.

- “You’re so big and perfect, [Name].”

- “Daisuke… [sigh].. thank you.”

- After work and showering Daisuke always makes his way to your room to cuddle, alternating between little spoon and big spoon. When he’s big spoon he’s usually closest to the door, tugging you right against his chest and laying his face into your neck. He likes to whisper tiny thoughts he has or even a simply “I love you” once in a while. Sometimes you have to tell him to quiet down from how sleepy you’re getting.

- If you’re big spoon Daisuke’s face is definitely in your chest. Like.. right against it, arms wrapped around your waist so you don’t move. Sometimes you complain; scared he can’t breathe, but he’s quick to shake his head— basically declaring he’s fine.

- During that though, Daisuke may just shake his head a little too much— which causes you to playfully flick him for the perverted behavior.

NSFW

- Covering yourself up won’t really fly with Daisuke as his hands are everywhere. Grabbing your thighs, breasts, stomach, anywhere and everywhere— he isn’t turned off in the slightest by the extra meat or marks lining your hips. He quite likes tracing them with his thumbs whenever he’s deep inside you, pressing into the indents whenever he’s close.

- Daisuke isn’t the best with words but if he notices you are insecure, he is happy to reassure that you are perfect to him through actions.

- A not so secret, dirty secret; he would probably want you to smother him. Like, full weight on his face with him eating you out. Is it logical? No, but when it comes to you — in a sexual setting — the man is thinking with his dick rather than his mind.

- “Su.. I’m going to squash you.”

- Daisuke is shaking his head rapidly in response, on his knees in front of you and practically pleading.

- “Please, please! Even if I die it’s the best way to go!” Or some nonsense like that. With more coaxing you eventually give in, of course making him promise he’ll deliver two firm pats to your thigh if it’s too much.

- Having you above him, smothered in your wetness, plump ass on his chest— well.. he’s coming untouched. Hands gripping your hips so fucking tightly he’s leaving his own marks, moaning right into your cunt, whilst his hips are left to hump the air.

- And if you praise him? Oh his eyes are rolling back, completely drunk going as far as whimpering right into your sex

- Even when you’re finished the man doesn’t let you up until he’s satisfied, which isn’t until you’re practically whining for overstimulation. But once he’s done you’re quickly hopping off him, assuring he’s fine and not in pain.

- Sure, Daisuke’s neck hurts just a little back — which he blames on work when questioned by Anya — but like he said, it was totally worth it.

- Moving on, between Daisuke being able to lift himself in the vent ( and through it while injured ) + being on the baseball team, I like to think he’s strong in his own right. Not ridiculously strong, but strong enough.

- And by that I mean he’s not at all phased with moving you how he wishes. He’s gentle yet firm, pressing you into positions, turning you into others— when you let him take the lead he takes care of you, making you forget your size entirely.

- Daisuke also seems like the type to purposely grow stronger just to ease your worries — which to him are silly —.

- Speaking of positions, Daisuke purposely doesn’t do doggy unless it’s a quickie— simply because watching you from behind like that; ass and thighs rippling with each thrust, he’s coming in seconds. He’s always embarrassed and you have the tendency to tease him about it, much to his dismay.

- Lastly if you’re a particularly dominant person he’s all for it. Yes, let him lean back into your soft body whilst you jerk him off— he’s palpable and completely yours to play with.

- The man especially likes wrapping his lips around your nipple while you jerk him, followed by your soft words. Ranging between praises and teasing remarks; Daisuke is coming in seconds.

- Or having you ride him is even better, seeing you in all your glory like that is enough to push him over the edge.

- Truthfully though Daisuke seems like the type to handle a chubby partner in more ways then one.

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black tumblr #black!reader #chubby reader #poc writer #black reader #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mw #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #daisuke x you #daisuke x y/n #reader x daisuke #daisuke x female reader #intern daisuke #daisuke x reader smut #daisuke x reader #daisuke #daisuke x chubby reader

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ztrniolo · 5 months ago

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Birthday Sex - Chris Sturniolo

warnings: SMUTTTT, pet names (baby, ma), p in v, orgasm, kindaaaa getting caught, sub!chris,swearing, I think that’s it?

Summary: it’s Chris’s birthday and you surprised him with a little present.

English is NOT my first language and I’m not the best typer lmao. Hope u guys enjoy this one and happy birthday to the triplets!

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱

You live in Boston, You haven’t seen your boyfriend Chris in 3 months. As the triplets’s birthday was coming up they decided to celebrate it with their family. When the triplets got at the airport, you, Mary Lou and Jimmy went to pick them up

You guys were waiting outside of the airport. As you see Chris, you scream his name so they could find you guys. As they got closer you run over to Chris to give him a big hug. “Hi baby, I missed you” Chris says whispering in your ear as he picks you up.

“I missed you so much, happy birthday sweetheart” you say. Chris puts you back down so you can give Matt and Nick a friendly hug. “Ready to leave?” Jimmy says as he starts the car.

You guys get home, it’s already evening. You and the triplets were all hanging out in the living room as Mary Lou and Jimmy yell the triplets’s names to come to the kitchen.

You knew what it was, as you all walked in the kitchen there was a cake with a lot of candles on it. You all sing the happy birthday song, as they blow out the candles. Mary Lou and Jimmy starts clapping their hands to celebrate.

during that, you wrap your arms around Chris’s neck as his arms goes around your waist. You give him a kiss on the lips and go to his ear to whisper something, “I have a surprise for you upstairs” you look him in the eyes as he smirks at you.

After all of you just talking and hangout in the kitchen, each of you went upstairs to go to sleep, or atleast Nick and Matt were.

You two walk into Chris’s room as you lock the door. “So what’s the surprise, baby” he stands against the door, you with your arms around his neck again, making out with him. “Me” you say quietly during the kisses.

You walk over the bed, taking your close off leaving you with just a red bra and underwear. “New set?” Chris says not leaving his eyes off of your body. “Only for you baby” you say. he lays down on the bed watching you strip in front of him.

A tent is now build in Chris’s pants, you’re fully naked. You travel over to the bed, sitting on Chris’s dick. You start kissing him more, slowly grinding on his dick. “Fuck ma, stop with the tease” he says, touching one of your tits. “What you mean baby” you say teasing him more.

“I need you so bad ma” he says kissing you. You start taking off his shirt, following with his pants and boxers, leaving him fully naked.

As you sit back on his lap, you slowly put his tip inside of you. “Fuck please just fuck me” Chris says with a whimper. “We gotta be quiet, okay, don’t want anyone to hear us” you say, his dick now fully buried into you.

“Fuuuuuck” he lets out a moan as you start bouncing up and down. “Ssh shh be quiet baby” you say whimpering.

You start rocking your hips on his dick, causing him to moan quietly. “You feel so good, oh my god” you say moving your hips faster.

“I’m so close please don’t stop” Chris says, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “Hold on baby, cum with me I’m almost there” you both moan loudly as both your orgasm came at the same time.

“Shit that was loud” Chris says. You’re laying on his chest, Chris’s dick still inside of you. “Happy birthday baby” you say giving him a kiss on the cheek and removing yourself from his lap.

You’re both laying naked on the bed, but Chris gets a massage from Matt. “Enjoyed your birthday? You loud fuckers.” He texted. “I think we were a little to loud at the end” Chris says as you both laugh.

“Let’s get cleaned up in the shower alright? Maybe we could go for part two.” Chris says smiling at you as he leads you to the shower.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱

I hope everything was clear lmao. Anyway happy birthday to the triplets, hope next video is them getting drunk LMAO. The next fic will probably be fluff but idk when that’s gonna be :)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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midnightstar-kpopsmut · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter II, The Electric Sheep

- I should probably start by telling you who this guy is.” Said Jimmy. - His name is Cheongtae, and he is Korean. Handsome, like you, discrete, he owns a high quality hair saloon here in Gangnam.”

- Is Cheongtae your...” started the American.

- You want to ask if he is my friend, how do I know him, why did he told me all of this.” Jimmy was impatient. - But believe me, our relationship doesn’t really matter now. I trust him enough to know that the story is true in every detail. Let me tell it to you exactly how I’ve heard it from him. I will use English, since you don’t know Korean. Some nuances could be lost, please forgive me for my simple language.

This is how, according to Jimmy, Cheongtae recounted his pleasurable encounter with Karina to him.

- I was already a bit stressed when riding in her elevator. You know where she lives now, she moved in those apartments on the north river side, with the private park at the center of the towers... Her manager had texted me a couple of hours before. It was urgent, he said. Karina was supposed to make a comeback in three weeks. We already had multiple sessions scheduled at the saloon, for her and the other members. But they needed me to come at her place, right now, for a quick check-up.

Karina has a big mouth. She is not vulgar or anything, just a bit exigent. She knows what she wants. When I worked for her she kept pestering me endlessly, talking about how she had this idea for a detail of the hair style while on vacation, how she wasn’t sure if it was something I was used to do... All while I waited with scissors in hand. Once I started cutting she calmed down. She reminded me of one of those dogs that bark and fight until you finally put them on a leash. Then they behave.

That’s why I was a bit stressed on the elevator. Hair is serious in Kpop. It’s part of the reason why I like to work for idols. But if they needed me to go directly to her place it meant that the stakes were even higher. I was expecting a big meeting of some sort, probably requested by Karina herself. When I finally put my foot into the entrance I was surprised. I couldn’t hear anyone, just the calm sound of the end of an afternoon. Karina was alone.

She greets me firmly. - Oppa, finally. Come in. You really like to make women wait.” Oppa? I think. She knows I am married. Damn she is annoying. - Palli palli (- It means fast in Korean, added Jimmy: - Please learn this.), why are you moving in slow motion?” She wants to chit chat. And I am already out of it. Still, for the sake of business, I try to get into her mood: - You surely seem ready to go to a party.” She doesn’t like it. - A party? Dressed like this?” I look at her clothes, a pair of the most fluffy cargo pants, gray, and an expensive crop top, black. Nothing on her feet. She keeps going: - Please, please, please. Don’t stand there! I told you to come in.” I advance in the living room. I had never seen Karina outside of my shop, but still I had knew her for some time, I had no much interest. My focus shifted naturally on the style of the space. The living room is the only thing you can see when entering, you discover it in one striking blow. There are two, huge, sofas, that almost form a U shape. Light blue as the main color, very modern style. The floor takes a downward step to get to the sofas, it’s sophisticated. After this area you get to the windows, then a veranda. You could say that interior design is one my passions, but I see you don’t care so let’s keep going.

- Do you... like it?” Asks me Karina. - Sure, I like it. It’s good quality.” I don’t get to the veranda. I stop at the couches and turn to myself, an equally impressive open kitchen stands behind, hidden from the entrance. All the other rooms are out of sight, you get to them through corridors. By looking around I finally realize that something is missing. I can’t see Karina’s manager anywhere. I was already surprised of not seeing the whole team here, but the manager, I thought, was a given, since he was the one who wrote to me. - Where is your manager?” I ask.

- Oh, him. My manager...” Her tone floats. Her head is all over the place, I think. - He is not here.

- But how... I mean, he wrote to me, I thought it would be here. But he doesn’t have to, now that I think of it.

- Actually “I” wrote to you. I met him this morning, to discuss things, he forgot his phone here. It’s his working phone. I am going to give it back to him tomorrow.

- You wrote like if it was him. And you have my number. Why didn’t you write to me from your phone?

- I don’t know! How can I know? Maybe I thought it was more professional. Why are you asking me all these questions?! Can’t you see I am stressed already? If I manage to piss off Karina, I am cooked. - I am sorry.” I say. - It’s ok” she answers. - But really, you haven’t seen me in a while. Look at me. Can’t you see that I am stressed?” I look at her. She looks electric. It’s also because of the look. The crop top has that kind of fluffy texture that could come directly from the body of an electrical galactic sheep. I kind of like it, it is hot. Good choice on her. Not that I would expect any less, from one of the constantly ranking top 5 idols in popularity.

- What are you looking at?” She asks. - Your crop top. - Anything else?” And then I notice it. I could have done sooner, but I didn’t. Her breast had taken some sizes. Only her breast, not the rest of her body or her face. Two sizes, at least.

I nod to myself. What a reaction to have. Anyway.

- Exactly. That’s why I am stressed. Sit with me. I really need you today.

#kpop #fanfic #karina #kpopsmut #kpop smut

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skyeconch · 1 month ago

Text

Y/N : I wonder what captain curly’s up to

Y/N, sees him sitting doing something : Hmm? What’s he doing?

Y/N : (I’m going to surprise him!)

Y/N : *covers his eyes* Guess who?? ☺️

Captain curly : Oh fuck, who can it be? Judging by how there’s no rings on fingers— it must be Jimmy!

Y/N : you keep joking around and I’m going to break your neck, Captain ☺️

Captain curly : of course, I’m joking!

Y/N : okay then, it’s time for you to guess! ☺️

Captain curly : . . .

Y/N : . . .

Y/N : are you sleeping—

Captain curly : whoops! I dozed off for a sec there 😅 I’ve been so tired lately, y’know being a captain and all

Y/N : time to answer the question ☺️

Captain curly : what was the question? 😅

Y/N : quit joking around, guess who I am ☺️

Captain curly : what do you mean guess who you are~ you’re my beloved! 😅

Y/N : (look at this bitch being a smartass ☺️)

Captain curly : babe, please take your hands off now. You’re gonna pluck my eyeballs out 😅

Y/N : babe who?? ☺️

Captain curly : you’re being silly~ who else would my baby be? 😅

Y/N : shut up and say my name

Captain curly : . . .

Captain curly : I want my phone—

Y/N : there’s no such thing ☺️

Captain curly : do you actually think I don’t know?

Y/N : quit playing games, bitch ☺️

Captain curly : are you doubting me right now?! Your own captain?!

Y/N : is saying my name that hard? ☺️

Captain curly : your name is not the issue— this is an issue of trust!

Y/N : fine, let’s see how far this goes. I bet my left thumb that you don’t know my name— what are you betting? ☺️

Captain curly : ...you sure you wanna take it this far?

Y/N : you’re scared?? ☺️

Captain curly : I’m not the one who’s scared, you are!

Y/N : l̵̜͂̆́o̷̙͗̐o̶̟͒͜k̸̦͂̈́̄ ̶̲̇̌̑a̸̢̯͌ț̷̤̓ ̷͎̭̃͛͠t̶̥̄̚h̸̲͑̇̽͜í̸̞͔̮s̵͚̟̖͆͗͝ ̸̟̯̙͝s̶̼͠͝l̶̛̘̃y̶͖̖̟͛ ̴̧͍͔̒s̷̝̼̖̉̎̇o̶̠̙̊n̸̛̘̪̔͝ ̵̰͌͜ó̵̡̲̖̑̈́f̶̻̰͋ ̵̲͙̄͆ä̵̫́̆̈́ ̶̥̂͘b̵͉̯͉̐̕ì̸͈͖̾̕t̷̯̉̾ͅc̵͖̲̏h̶̘͆ ☺️

Captain curly : I’m giving you one last chance— take your hands off now!

Y/N : I give the last chance, not you~ ☺️

Captain curly : there’s no going back from this— are you saying that WE don’t matter anymore?!

Y/N : Đ₳₥₦ ₴₮Ɽ₳ł₲Ⱨ₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮₴ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ł ₩₳₦₮ɆĐ Ø₦Ɇ Ø₣ Ʉ₴ ₳ⱤɆ ₲Ø₦₦₳ ฿ł₮Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ĐɄ₴₮ ₮ØĐ₳Ɏ ☺️

Captain curly : how could you discard away our memories together?! Or that time we’ve had our first kiss at—

Y/N : ł₴ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₳ⱠⱠ ɎØɄVɆ ₲Ø₮ ɎØɄ ₳ĐØⱤ₳฿ⱠɆ Ⱡł₮₮ⱠɆ ₴Ⱨł₮ ☺️

Y/N : ₴Ø ₴ⱧɄ₮ ɎØɄⱤ ₥ØɄ₮Ⱨ ₳₦Đ ⱠɆ₮₴ ฿Ɇ₲ł₦ ☺️

Captain curly : one...

Y/N : ͫ̂͏̨̯̲̭͞t̵̡̛̠̘̙̮̥̯̰̲͍̮̼͚̮̘̄͋̓͑w͚͓͈̼̯̜̃ͤ́ͮ͆ͧ̑ͫ̔͆͂̇͢͝ͅo͇̬͎ͦ

Captain curly : . . .

Y/N : a͏́͏̡͖͍̞̥̺̘͍͚̻̤ŗ̸̛̲͙͉͓͚̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢ͅȩ̣̰͓̻͎͡ ̛͕͚̝̘̞y̕҉̛̛͙̝̟̞͈̪̼ͅó̴͈̙̦̯̘̮̯̲͈̙̳̲͢u̧̢̖̞̝̖̤̥̱̳͝ ̜͇̫̹̞͜͞p̡̱̳̹̻̱̻̘̠͉̺̘͍͚̻̤ŗ̸̲͙͉͓͚a͏́͏̛͖͍̞̥͕͚̝̘̞y̕҉͙̝̟̞͈̪̼҉͏̫̼̜͉̭i̙͙̙̥̰̯͎̘̖̹̦̙͝͞n̴̫̘͈͈͈̳̩̳̞͔̭̤̩͍͢g̨̪̣̤͎̟͟͠ ☺️

Captain curly : . . .before you kill me, let me say my last words...

Y/N : ͎̠̬̜̱̲̮̤͞G̷̛̛̜͍͚͎̤̀ͅo͈̙̦

Captain curly : ...your hands have gotten rougher...

Captain curly : ...Swansea...

Y/N : *sheds a tear*

Y/N : ̰͟W̨̛̺̪̱̼̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟Ŗ̷̜̯̱̖̫̟̺̰͟͢͡͞O̵͍̱͎̯̣͕̤̜͎̲̞̣̥͘͝N͚̟͉̭̘͎̠̬̜̱̲̮̤͟͞G̷̜͍͚͎̤̀ A͢͏̵̜̖̙̲͎̲̞̣̥͘N͚̟͉̭̘̥͇̰͉͖̭̫̻̜͟͡Ş̯͕̰͟W̨̛̺̪̱̼҉̶̡͕͓̪͚͕̩͈͔̩E̱̭̘̫̮̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟Ŗ̜̯͟͡ ̛͍̥M͏̷̬̗͍͓̘̱̖̫̟̺̰͢͞Ò͍̱͎̯̣͕̤̜̙̥̻̰̻͝͡T̴̩̙̰̬͙͖̥̺̤̠̲̟̳͘ͅH͖̠͓͜ͅ҉̶̡͕͓̪͚͕̩͈͔̩E̱̭̘̫̮̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟Ŗ̜̯͇̻͕͔̳́͟͡͞ͅF̝̗͈̳̙̕͟͝ͅŲ̵̵̶̼̳̱͙͎̲̘̩̱͉̳̠͢C̢̩͍̳̱̖̻̰̟̟͠͝K͏͈̯̭̭̥̠̗̙҉̶̡͕͓̪͚͕̩͈͔̩E̱̭̘̫̮̰͖̯͕̥̱̲̰̳͟Ŗ̜̯͟͡ *cracks*

#「 ✦ Mouthwashing ✦ 」#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing fandom #mouthwashing captain curly #mouthwashing curly #captain curly #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing jimmy #Mouthwashing Swansea #mouthwashing x y/n #mouthwashing incorrect quotes #captain curly x reader #captain curly x you #captain curly x y/n #mouthwashing captain curly x reader #my works

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charles-leclerizz · 9 months ago

Text

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette

🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)

🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic

🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat

“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”

Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”

“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.

You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.

“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”

“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.

“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”

“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”

“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”

You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.

Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.

“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”

You yelped when he bit your neck.

“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.

“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.

Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”

“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.

“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.

You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.

“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.

“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.

You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.

“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.

You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.

“Babe?” he tried once.

“Babe?” He tried again.

“Babe?”

You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.

That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.

“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”

By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”

“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.

Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”

You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”

The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.

“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.

He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”

You ended up taking the pista.

But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.

“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-

“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.

You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”

“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“

You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.

Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.

Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.

Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.

“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.

Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”

You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.

“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.

The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.

Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.

“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.

“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.

Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.

“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.

“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.

A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.

“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”

“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.

After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.

“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.

Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.

“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.

“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.

“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.

“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.

You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”

“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.

“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”

“So, Max?”

The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.

“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”

Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.

A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”

“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”

Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”

Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.

Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?

Geliefde - Love [r]

Heer, red mij - Lord, save me

BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

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l1v1ngd3dgrrl · 6 days ago

Text

Tulpar crew: Least to most likely to have an Alternative (Goth) Partner. [HC's]

AN: No one asked for this, this is purely my thoughts alone. (And yes when i said all I mean ALL...Minus Polle duh.) Please behave yourselves I'm BEGGING you

CW(S): Slight UNINTENTIONAL fetishization of Goth women (it's brief and no it's not Jimmy's doing. It's a reference to a meme, it'll make sense when you read it.)

MDNI banner: cafekitsune

Curly [Least]

I can hear your gasps behind the screen (I'm sorry!)

He doesn't mean it maliciously! I feel like he wouldn't like..Actively seek out a goth BUT he would date (and or marry) one if the chance presents itself.

doesn't really get the fashion aspect, but does like some bands (I can see him liking some of The Cure)

Swansea

Have zero clue when this man was born, or when Mouthwashing takes place. All I know is he's old (not like super old but old y'know)

..I don't think he's ever met a goth? Maybe like once and they were someone younger than him.

Finds the more 'traditional' goth looks annoying in a sense. Whaddya mean you did all that for some fashion?

Another person I can see liking very few goth bands..maybe a song or two. He can't tell you the name of the songs or what bands it is, but if you put on a song that he likes he'll kind of bop his head to it.

Daisuke

Honestly It's hard to pin point his type, based on in game dialogue he likes hot women (who doesn't) and since ones definition of hot varies who knows what he's into.

now me personally... I see him as a straight man BUT for the sake of this list he plays for all teams m'kay?

Similar to Curly I don't think he actively seeks out Goths, but if you two get along and you happen to be goth then yeah.

Would be the type to post "Need me a big tiddy goth gf" as a JOKE, he's joking i swear guys pLEASE. (you cannot tell me that he wouldn't have some stupid shitpost account on instagram or something.)

If it upset you he's taking it down and apologizing over and over and over.

If you think it's funny it becomes a joke between you two.

He canonically likes thrifting so he'd be down to help you find new pieces for your wardrobe (we love a supportive man)

Jimmy

Hear me out-

He does kind of view you as like an accessory, or like a trophy. if you don't dress 'goth' all the time he will view you as fake and not 'goth enough.'

HOWEVER, I do see him having some base knowledge about Alternative subcultures. (I saw a headcannon from curly-my-beloved and that's what made me think about putting him here)

During his high school years he probably considered himself Punk or something. Maybe had one Goth gf that dumped him in a really really messy breakup.

Unironically He would be the fucker to see someone wearing a band shirt and go "name 3 songs" or give you a pop quiz about the band, and call you a poser or fake fan.

I can see him liking some Type o negative, but he strikes me as a metal guy. Metallica/ Rob Zombie maybe? (Every man I've had the misfortune of crossing paths with who was obsessed with either have been the most insufferable dickheads to walk this earth. don't get me started ughh.)

Anya

Firm believer that Anya is one of those goths who doesn't dress goth at all, but her entire playlist says otherwise.

Once in a blue moon she'll get all gothed up but with how busy she is with work and med school she doesn't have time for it.

I can totally see her being the most likely to have a goth partner.

You two share music recommendations often, and sometimes you get into squabbles about what band is considered goth or not. (with love of course)

she KNOWSS her subculture history. Ask her any question about the subculture and she's gonna give you a whole presentation on it.

#daisuke mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader

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ram-bles · 12 days ago

Note

I absolutely adore how you write the whole gang 🥹 May I request more scenarios with them, please? I miss your angst. Would doomed love be alright? Thank you so much

Tulpar crew x reader || Ma Meilleure Ennemie

oh lord this took so long. these are so ooc I'm so sorry in advance. I'll just use Grant as Curly's first name for now.

#: gender neutral reader. angst. not proof-read.

⚠️ character deaths. gore. mouthwashing spoilers. yk, #justjimmythings 💖. toxic relationships.

[I was honestly worried I've written them too ooc 💧 thank you so much anon I'm glad you enjoy my ramblings!]

[ Anya ]

🟦 "I love you, I'm leaving you." ⬛

The night before, she'd confessed to you. You had a long heart to heart conversation with the nurse. Told you everything; Why her financial situation was in the gutter, academic issues, Pony express, Jimmy. After you'd attempted to comfort her, you told her yours once she insisted that she was fine hearing everything. Eventually, you both ended up with something more lighthearted. Hobbies, favorite music, hell, even favorite Pokemon/s. So, when Daisuke came rushing to both you and Jimmy the next day, cutting off the dry conversation, your heart sank. The two men tried to talk her out of the medical room, slamming and tugging on the door which made you flinch and your fingers felt numb. Did Anya feel the same? You had to bite your tongue at Jimmy's words, Anya told you to after all. It's best not to provoke him when we're trapped here. I can't keep watching you be treated like this, Anya. Especially not after knowing what he did to you. And I don't want him to hurt you either. Please. If not for me, for Daisuke and Swansea too. Quickly dismissing the 'Captain', Anya called your name. You loved it when she did. Your heart guiltily flutters and shatters at the same time. "Are you there?" "Y-Yeah." You stammered, the two looking back at you as you moved closer to the door. "Yes. I'm here, Anya. Please. Please, open the door." Anya smiles. He doesn't want Jimmy's voice to be the last she'll hear. "Open the damn door." "You were right." Her tone resigned. You can hear her take a deep breath. "You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn't define us. Didn't make us beyond repair." It was silent for a moment, her voice much softer. She probably moved away from the door. "You think I wanted this either? Make no mistake. This isn't my worst moment. Far from it." "It's the best decision I'll ever make." "Anya, please." "Open the door." "I'll take care of it." "Anya?!" Daisuke bangs on the door. "Please. Don't leave me, Anya." Your voice cracks as you call out for her in desperation, hand clutching onto Daisuke's shirt as an attempt to ground yourself. There were so many options in your head that you didn't know what to do. You were frozen. The panic worsens when Anya calls for your name again. "I'm sorry. I love you."

[ Curly ]

🎂 The best of all curses. 👁️

Your hands were shaky, clinging onto the bandaged man. It probably hurt him, but it kept you grounded. How selfish. Everyone else was dead, you knew you were next and so did he. And all he could do was make noises as if you could understand. It was supposed to be strings of I'm sorries but only vowels spilled along with tears. You fidget with the ring on your finger, a symbol of a promise never came true. You don't even know if his survived somewhere. Was it stuck in the foam along with his severed arm? Was it even still there. "We never decided whose last name to use, huh." You chuckle, hand still on his chest as you feel for his heartbeat. "Can this be our wedding instead?" Your veil being the hair that stuck to your face, clinging onto blood and sweat. He makes a noise, and you consider that as a yes. "Grant █████, I do. I still do." And you sob, carefully holding his chin and kissing the bandage just over his cheek. The ceremony cut to a halt when he starts writhing as he notices another presence. Jimmy had thought you were going to hurt him, too panicked to even think properly, the air being thin doesn't help either. The captain drags you off out of sight, the former unable to do anything.

[ Jimmy ]

♦️ The worst of all blessings. 🔪

The axe dragged on the floor, metal meeting metal as you shrugged off the grating noise. Take responsibility. While he was busy off with Swansea, you managed to grab the axe unnoticed. Until now at least. You found him, sitting along with everyone. You were late to the party it seems and you were the plus one. "Are you also trying to fucking kill me after I saved the last pod for you?" "How romantic." You knew he was lying. He prioritized Curly despite it all and out of all people, you would know that. Co-dependency's finest. You glance at Curly who could only stare back, too tired to writhe in pain. "Is this our anniversary dinner?" Jimmy visibly grips on his fork as his knuckles turn white. "This isn't even all my fault!" He's self-aware. "Curly didn't have to enter that fucking room. If Swansea didn't guard utility, Daisuke would still be here, and I was just defending myself from Swansea! Now you're taking his side?!" The past year had been like this with him. Somehow, it's never his fault. It's impressive, really, how he manages to divert everything away from him. "Anya?" "You weren't giving me enough attention." You give him a look after letting out a noise of disbelief and his knees almost buckle out of nervousness. He hates it. He hates how he could feel like this around you. Vulnerability was never his forte, but he somehow let someone love him. Loved him. Somehow, even after all this, you put some blame on yourself. You let go of the tool, dropping onto the floor with a loud clang as you stood at the other end of the table, across from him. Your palms rest on the surface, putting your weight on it as you grabbed the edges. "Is the pod really going to be for me?" "I-" he chokes on his own words, frustrated. Unconsciously, his gaze moves over to Curly. Was the guilt eating him up? Good. "How do we fix this, Jimmy?" "How are you going to fix this?" He stays silent. Before you could continue, he moved fast. Too fast. You hear a metal click and— BANG.

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 "I love you, I'm waiting for you." 🪓

Naive you both were. He knew how tug on both of your strings. Daisuke and his longing for approval, and you with your feelings for Daisuke. Somehow, he managed to separate you both, just enough time so he could convince the intern to enter the vents. When you'd return with the item Jimmy needed, you slammed it on the table and ran over to the bottom of the entrance. "Wait- wait! Does he really have to go?!" You didn't want to piss Jimmy off, but there was an unsettling feeling in your gut. "We can wait for Swansea to wake—" "There's no more fucking time. Curly and Anya needs us." "I'll be okay. I promise." He can't turn around now, there was barely any space for him so instead, he remains curled up there, not wanting to accidentally snag on the loose wires. You chewed on your lower lip to the point where you tasted metal. Daisuke calls for your attention. "You still there?" "Mhm." "I'll be back, okay? Meet me back at med?" He hates it there and you knew it. Even if his voice weren't as shaky as it is now, you'd still know it. So why was he trying to calm you down. "Be careful." You assumed that he nodded when he crawled off. This time, there was no one to hold your hand to stop yourself from digging your nails into your cuticles. There was shuffling and grunting when suddenly something crashes and he screams in pain and your body felt cold. "Daisuke!" "Shitshitshit- hang on, kid. Keep going." "He's fucking hurt!" "Get a grip. He can't turn around." Jimmy holds you by the shoulders as an attempt to ground you before tilting his head, gesturing to head back up already. There was... Blood everywhere. Lacerations and electrocution burns littered all around his. Swansea and Jimmy were arguing after 'sanitizing' the injuries and you were holding onto Daisuke's hand as he gripped it tight, the other pressing your torn jacket as an attempt to stop the bleeding. You push all your feelings aside, focused on keeping him alive but when he groans out apologies, you couldn't help but tear up, biting your lower lip hard to stop yourself from crying. Not now. "Hey! Stop, stop, stop! Don't move!" You feel a hand on your shoulder as Swansea kneels beside you, setting the axe on his lap as his calloused fingers pried yours away from Daisuke's chest and made you intertwine yours with Daisuke's. "Spill it, kid." As much as you didn't want this to happen, you understood the situation and you feel your cheek dampen. Your free hand holds Daisuke's cheek, swiping off the tears and some of the blood as you tried to hush his pain. It doesn't work, but you were there for him and that was enough. You were always enough for him. More than it. He coughs again in-between his sobs and you hold his hand tighter. Shh, I'm here. It'll be okay. "Mmrgh.... I love you." Brushing his hair away from his face and pressing your lips onto his forehead one final time. "I love you too, Daisuke. So much." You finally pry yourself off of him and Swansea speaks next. When he asks him to close his eyes, he glances at you first and you smile before he finally does.

[ Swansea ]

🪓 Better than alone, is to be in bad company. 🦢

Hugging your knees, you two sat in silence trying to process everything. Swansea was staring at a bottle of Dragonbreath X, red fingerprints contrasting the artificial blue. If anything, you expected him to chug it down after the events had unfolded. But he doesn't. You only flinch as he threw the bottle onto the wall, loose cap flying off somewhere as the contents spilled to the floor. "Listen to me." Your head perks up, tilting to face him but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring blankly at the barely empty bottle laying Infront of him. "Haven't experienced all, but I've experienced enough. I'm ready." "Swan—" "Can it and listen." You purse your lips, leaning onto your forearm as you hug your knees closer. "Remember the Cryopods?" You nod. "Was trying to fix two. For you and Daisuke." He chuckles dryly. "Could only get one up and workin'. It was hard you know. Figuring out which one'a ya should get it." "Who did you choose?" "Like asking for a favorite child? Hope you never get that choice." He looks down and continues, voice trailing off. "Couldn't decide. But since Daisuke's..." Your gaze moves to the same empty bottle. "What I'm saying is, I need you to get to it. Don't worry about ol' Swansea. I'll handle Jimmy." "Swansea?" He grunts in acknowledgement. "Can I hug you?" He hesitates for a moment before finally opening his arms and you crawl in-between them.

[A/N: I honestly wanted Swansea's line for Jimmy but I wanted Curly and Jimmy's to parallel. Same goes for Daisuke and Swansea, instead I paralleled dsk with Anya. I'd love to ramble on about why I chose the lines but let's keep this note short and sweet lol.]

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rootedinrevisions · 5 days ago

Text

Too Late: Part 2

SUMMARY: After leaving, you've put some distance between you and Tyler. And Tyler has to come to terms with you being gone. But he can't let you go, and comes up with a plan to try and when you back - or at least figure out what to say to you. That is until an unexpected accident throws a wrench in both of your plans. Tyler is determined to show you that he can be there for you when you need him to, but the emotions of being around him again start to rise inside you. Memories of what you once had - and what you lost - keep pulling at you. Especially when Tyler doesn't let the space between you stop him from quietly being there when you need him most.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support on Part 1 of this! I was definitely not expecting this story to take off and get the reactions it did! Thank you for the comments, reblogs, and likes! This story ended up being way longer than I planned on it being and there will be a PART 3 coming soon (probably sometime next week after the holidays so I can finish up the last few holiday fics I'm working on)

WARNINGS: None, just a lot of heart-shattering angst. This one made me cry while writing it, so be prepared!

WORD COUNT: 6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

TYLER’S P.O.V.

Tyler stood on the front porch of his old farmhouse, staring out at the horizon as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the tree line. The weight of the conversation he was preparing for sat heavy in his chest. His truck keys dangled from his fingers, his grip tightening and loosening as doubt gnawed at the edges of his determination.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you–only that he needed to say something. He couldn’t let things end the way they had, not without trying to make it right. He had so many things he still needed to say to you.

But the weight of your words, the hurt in your eyes the last time you’d spoken, kept playing on a loop in his head. Then the doubts crept in. What if he’d already blown it? What if showing up just made everything worse?

But then he thought, what if it helped? What if it fixed everything? What if you gave him a chance?

With a final sigh, he pushed off the railing and headed for his truck. He figured you were probably at your mom’s house which wasn’t too far of a drive from his place. He pulled open the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel.

He had just turned the engine over when his phone buzzed in the cup holder. He glanced down and saw your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. His stomach dropped. Why would she be calling? Was it to chew him out for breaking your heart? He wouldn’t blame her if it was. Tyler hesitated, his hand hovering over the phone. He almost let it go to voicemail, but then a pang of guilt hit him. He deserved whatever lecture your friend was about to give, so he swiped to answer.

“Look,” he said, bracing himself. “I know what you’re going to say, and-”

“Tyler.” Your friend interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling slightly. His brow furrowed at the crack in her tone. “Something’s happened.”

The world seemed to tilt under his feet, Tyler clutched the steering wheel as your friend’s words came out in a rush. “It’s her mom. There was a car accident. Her mom’s in surgery right now. She…she’s at the hospital by herself, and-”

“Wait,” Tyler cut in, his voice hardening as he processed her words. “Surgery? Is…is her mom gonna be okay?”

“They don’t know yet,” your friend admitted, her voice quieter now. “Tyler, I don’t know. It…it sounds bad. And she’s…she’s trying to be strong, but you know how she gets. She’s telling us all that she’s fine, but I don’t think she is.”

Tyler stayed silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His pulse pounded in his ears as the reality of the situation hit him. Your mom was in the hospital. You were alone. And here he was, debating whether or not he should show up.

“I think you should go.” Your friend said.

“I don’t think I’m the guy she wants to see right now,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your friend huffed, frustration creeping into her tone. “You’re exactly the guy she needs right now. Whether she realizes it or not.”

“She told me-”

“I know what she told you, Tyler.” Your friend snapped, cutting him off. “Trust me. I was there the night of her birthday when you weren’t. I know. But I also know she’s hurt and scared and stubborn as hell, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you. She won’t say it, but I will…get over yourself and get to the hospital. She shouldn’t be alone right now, and you know it.”

Tyler’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t respond right away, his mind spinning with doubts and what ifs. What if showing up made things worse? What if you pushed him away again?

“Tyler.” Your friend said softly, her tone shifting. “You love her, don’t you?”

The question hit him square in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Of course I do,” he murmured.

“Then prove it,” she said simply. “Be there for her.”

Your friend hung up after that, but her words lingered in his mind. Tyler sat frozen for a moment, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He could still hear your voice from the last time you’d spoken, the way it had cracked with anger and pain. The fear of making things worse clawed at him, but your friend’s voice echoed louder: Be there for her.

Tyler put the truck in drive and started making his way towards the hospital. Screw his doubts. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. And if there was even a chance you needed him, he wasn’t going to let you down again.

YOUR P.O.V.

The waiting room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional voice paging a doctor over the intercom. You sat in the corner, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, your hands clasped tightly together. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but you hardly noticed. Your foot tapped a restless rhythm against the tiled floor, the nervous energy pulsing through you too much to contain.

You’d sent everyone away. Your best friend had tried to stay, but you insisted you didn’t need her hovering. You also told her some lie that the nurses said only immediate family could stay. Your dad had called multiple times, offering to send a neighbor or someone to sit with you until he could get there. But you told him the same thing. You didn’t need anyone there with you. You’d be fine until he could get there.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by the steady thud of boots against the linoleum floor, echoing down the hallway. You barely glanced up, expecting to see another loved one ignoring your instructions to stay away.

Without lifting your head, you muttered, “Go home. I’m fine.”

The boots stopped. You waited for a response, but none came. Irritation flared, and you straightened slightly in your chair.

“I said, go home,” you repeated, sharper this time.

Still nothing. Finally, you glanced up, ready to tell whoever it was to leave in no uncertain terms.

The words caught in your throat when you saw him. Tyler stood in the doorway, his hat tucked in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed with concern, but his eyes softened when they met yours.

You swallowed hard and dropped your gaze back to your hands, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room. “Your friend called me,” he said simply. “She told me what happened.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening in your lap.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be here. You can leave.”

Tyler didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unrelenting. Finally, you glanced up to see that he hadn’t moved an inch. His expression was unreadable, but there was a steadiness in his gaze that made your chest ache.

“Go home, Tyler,” you said again, this time with more force.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “When you can look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay without lying,” he said, his voice steady and calm, “I’ll leave. Until then, I’m staying right here.”

The breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly looked away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. You couldn’t meet his gaze. Not when he saw right through the mask you’d been wearing all day.

Your eyes landed on the brown bag in his hand. The logo was instantly recognizable, and despite everything, a flicker of confusion crossed your face.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Tyler glanced down at the bag as if just remembering it. He crossed the room, closing the distance between you, and held it out.

“Figured you hadn’t eaten today,” he said simply. “It’s well past supper, and you need food. Stopped by your favorite place and got you your usual.”

You blinked at him, the unexpected gesture catching you off guard. For a moment, you just stared at the bag in his hand, unsure whether to take it.

When you didn’t move, Tyler set it down gently on the chair beside you and crouched down so he was at eye level. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “Just eat something, okay?”

The tears you’d been holding back all day finally broke free, and you quickly turned your head, pressing the heel of your hand against your eyes. Tyler didn’t say anything, didn’t try to touch you or pry. He just stayed there, steady and calm, his quiet presence more comforting than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, so you reached for the bag, the smell of your favorite meal filling the room as you opened it. It was still warm, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

You managed to eat about half of the food Tyler had brought before your stomach protested. Setting the container back into the bag, you folded it shut with deliberate care, focusing on the crinkle of the paper as a distraction. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unrelenting. The silence stretched again, broken only by the distant murmur of hospital staff and the faint beeping of monitors from somewhere down the hall.

After a few moments, Tyler cleared his throat, the sound startling in the stillness. “Do you have any updates?” he asked, his voice low but careful, as if afraid of pushing too hard. “Have you heard how she’s doing?”

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head without looking up. You couldn’t speak—not without your voice breaking. You clenched your hands in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep the tears at bay.

Tyler’s eyes softened as he watched you, the effort you were putting into holding yourself together painfully clear. He saw the slight tremble in your hands, the way your shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. Without a word, he stood from the chair across the room and moved to the one beside you. You didn’t look at him, but you noticed the shift, and felt the heat of his presence closer now.

You glanced sideways as Tyler settled into the chair, his broad frame filling the space beside you. He didn’t say anything, but he opened his arm, leaving it resting on the back of the chair as he leaned slightly toward you. It wasn’t an overt gesture—just enough to let you know it was there, an unspoken invitation.

You hesitated, your breath hitching as you looked at the open space he was offering. A part of you wanted to retreat, to keep the wall between you firmly in place. But the ache in your chest—the one you’d been fighting all day—finally won out.

Slowly, you leaned over, your weight shifting until your head rested against his chest. His arm closed gently around you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. He didn’t pull you in too tightly, giving you the space to move if you wanted, but the warmth and steadiness of him made you feel like the world might stop spinning just for a moment.

The steady beat of his heart was soothing against your ear, a rhythm that felt like home in a way you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about right now. You closed your eyes, your shoulders sagging as the tension slowly began to leave your body.

Tyler didn’t speak. He didn’t ask any more questions or try to fill the silence. He just sat there, holding you as the tears you’d been holding back slipped quietly down your cheeks. And for the first time that day, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely alone.

The quiet warmth of Tyler’s presence, combined with the emotional toll of the day, eventually caught up to you. Your breathing slowed as you sank deeper against his chest, the exhaustion overtaking your attempts to stay awake. Tyler glanced down at you and realized you’d fallen asleep, your face relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

He didn’t move. He stayed as still as he could, not wanting to disturb you. His arm remained firmly around you, holding you steady as your head rose and fell gently with the rhythm of his breathing.

Tyler rested his head back against the wall, his free hand rubbing tiredly at his face. He stared at the sterile ceiling tiles above, his mind racing with a mix of relief and guilt. He was here, and you were letting him be here, but he couldn’t help thinking about all the times before when he hadn’t been.

Nearly two hours passed in silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of passing staff. Tyler shifted slightly, careful not to wake you. Just as he was debating whether to adjust his arm that was starting to go numb, the sound of the waiting room door opening caught his attention.

He turned his head, his gaze landing on the doctor who stepped into the room. The man was middle-aged, with a kind but tired face, his scrubs wrinkled from what must have been a long shift. Tyler straightened slightly, his movements gentle enough that you didn’t stir.

“Are you the family of (your mom’s name)?” The doctor asked, his voice soft but clear.

Tyler hesitated for a second, glancing down at you. “She is,” he said, his voice low so as not to startle you. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he shook your shoulder gently. “Hey, wake up,” he murmured.

You stirred, your brow furrowing as your eyes blinked open. For a moment, you seemed disoriented, but then you sat up quickly, your hand brushing your hair from your face as you glanced between Tyler and the doctor.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice still thick with exhaustion.

“The doctor’s here with an update about your mom,” Tyler said gently, giving you a reassuring look.

You swallowed hard and turned your attention to the doctor, your hands twisting nervously in your lap.

“Surgery went well,” the doctor said, his tone calm and steady. “She’s in recovery now. We’ll keep her here for a few days to monitor her, but she’s expected to make a full recovery.

A wave of relief hit you so hard it almost felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your lips parted as though to speak, but no words came out. Tyler’s hand moved to rest lightly on your shoulder, grounding you as the doctor continued.

“She’ll be groggy for a little while when she wakes up, but she’s stable.” The doctor reassured.

“Can I see her now?” you asked quickly, your voice trembling.

The doctor nodded but held up a hand. “Only one person can go in at a time. She needs to stay as calm as possible while she comes out of the anesthesia.”

You hesitated, glancing at Tyler for just a moment. His blue eyes softened, and he gave you a small, encouraging nod. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Your heart clenched at the steadiness in his voice. Without another word, you stood, your legs shaky beneath you as you followed the doctor out of the waiting room. Before you passed through the door, you glanced back at Tyler. He was still sitting, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—concern, affection, and maybe something deeper.

He gave you a faint smile, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared into the hallway.

A few hours later, the hum of the hospital had settled into a quiet rhythm as the nurses moved efficiently between rooms. You had been sitting at your mom’s bedside for as long as they allowed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. Relief had begun to seep into your bones, replacing the earlier tension, but exhaustion lingered, weighing heavily on you.

Eventually, a nurse came in, her smile kind but firm. “She’s stable now and will need her rest through the night. We’ll call if there are any changes, but it’s best if you go home and get some sleep too.”

You nodded, reluctant but understanding, and stood slowly, brushing your hand against your mom’s. You whispered a quiet goodbye and promised you’d be back first thing in the morning.

As you made your way back to the waiting room, you pulled your phone from your pocket. You’d been dropped off earlier and hadn’t even thought about how you’d get home. You scrolled through your contacts, landing on the name of a neighbor who’d always been quick to lend a hand. Just as you pressed the call button, Tyler’s voice interrupted you.

“I can drive you home,” he said softly, standing up from the chair where he’d been waiting.

You froze, lowering the phone from your ear. “Tyler, it’s late. You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, his voice calm but steady. “But I’d like to. If you’d let me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The idea of being alone in the car with him made your chest tighten. Not because you didn’t trust him—but because you weren’t sure you could handle the quiet, the possibility of him pressing you about everything that had happened between you.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Tyler raised his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just a ride home,” he assured you. “That’s it. No talking, no pushing. I know this isn’t the time for… everything else. I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

His words settled over you, soft and sincere. You studied him for a moment, searching for any sign of an ulterior motive, but there was none. Just a quiet steadiness in the way he looked at you, the same steadiness that had kept you grounded all night.

Finally, you nodded, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Okay,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Tyler gave a small nod, grabbing his jacket from the chair and slipping it on. He didn’t say anything else, just gestured for you to follow him.

The night air was crisp, the faint hum of insects filling the quiet as you and Tyler stepped into the dimly lit hospital parking lot. He stayed a step ahead, his boots scuffing softly against the pavement as he led the way to his truck. When you reached it, Tyler opened the passenger door, pausing to glance at you.

You climbed into the seat, the familiar scent of his truck—faintly leathery, with a trace of pine—wrapping around you like a memory. He waited until you were settled, buckling your seatbelt, before carefully shutting the door.

You watched him through the windshield as he walked around the front of the truck, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble filling the silence.

As he eased out of the parking lot, Tyler glanced over at you. “Do you want me to take you to your mom’s house or home?”

The word hung in the air between you for a beat too long. Tyler’s jaw tightened slightly, and he quickly corrected himself, his voice quieter. “I mean… my place. Do you want me to take you to my place instead?”

You turned your head to look out the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across your face as the truck rolled forward. Your mom’s house would feel empty, too quiet for you to face tonight. Every room would carry the weight of her absence, the echoes of your worry. The thought of sitting there, alone with your thoughts, was unbearable.

“Can I… stay with you tonight?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

Tyler’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, he just nodded and turned the truck onto a familiar road, the one that led to his old farmhouse.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Of course.”

The drive was quiet after that, neither of you saying much. The occasional hum of the truck’s tires against the road filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more like an unspoken agreement to let the quiet speak for itself, to let the exhaustion and the events of the day settle.

As the farmhouse came into view, its porch light glowing faintly in the distance, you felt your shoulders relax ever so slightly. Tyler parked the truck in the gravel drive and killed the engine, the sudden stillness almost startling.

He glanced at you, his voice low. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Tyler unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside and flipping on the lights. The warm glow illuminated the familiar space, but as you stepped through the doorway, you hesitated. The house felt the same, smelled the same—like cedarwood and faint traces of whatever cologne Tyler always wore—but you didn’t.

You paused just inside, unsure if you had the right to walk through it as freely as you used to. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, and your arms wrapped around yourself almost instinctively, like a shield.

Tyler paused near the bottom of the stairs and glanced back at you, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed your hesitation. He rubbed the back of his neck before offering a small smile.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice soft. Then, after a beat, he added, “You know where everything is.”

You nodded faintly, still unsure, but before you could say anything, he gestured to the stairs. “I’m gonna run up and see if I can find you something comfortable to wear for tonight. Be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, Tyler jogged up the stairs, his boots thudding softly against the wooden steps. You stood there for a moment, listening as the sound of his footsteps faded, before finally stepping further into the house.

You found yourself drifting toward the kitchen, your fingers brushing lightly against the edges of the counters as you passed. The farmhouse kitchen had always been one of your favorite spots—it was warm, lived-in, and full of charm. But now, as you glanced around, you noticed how disheveled it was.

Dishes were piled high in the sink, crumbs scattered across the counters. A forgotten coffee mug sat near the edge of the table, and you spotted a pair of work gloves tossed haphazardly onto one of the chairs. It was clear Tyler hadn’t been keeping up with housework.

Your chest tightened slightly. He was probably just as exhausted as you were after the week you’d both had. Without really thinking, you filled the sink with warm water, adding soap until suds began to rise. You rolled up your sleeves and got to work, grabbing the first plate from the pile.

The rhythm of cleaning was soothing, your hands moving on autopilot as you scrubbed and rinsed. One dish turned into two, then three, until the pile began to shrink. You didn’t hear Tyler come back down the stairs until his voice broke through the quiet.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Startled, you glanced over your shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, holding a neatly folded T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

“I know,” you said softly, turning back to the sink. “I just… wanted to help.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Tyler set the clothes down on the table and walked over, his boots clicking lightly against the tile. He reached past you and grabbed a clean dish towel, drying one of the plates you’d just washed.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, the only sounds coming from the water and the soft clink of dishes. When the last plate was dried and put away, Tyler finally spoke again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he repeated, his voice lower this time.

You dried your hands on the towel and glanced at him. “I know,” you said again, meeting his gaze. “But I wanted to.”

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding. He motioned toward the clothes he’d brought down. “Those should be comfortable.

You nodded, taking the clothes from the table and brushing past him, your fingers grazing his for just a moment.

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding, but instead of leaving it at that, he started to speak, his words coming out in a ramble—something you knew he only did when he was nervous.

“I, uh, was looking to see if maybe you’d left something here. You know, clothes or—just… something. But it looks like you cleared everything out when you left—”

He cut himself off abruptly, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a stone dropped into still water. You saw the flicker of regret cross his face as if he wished he could take them back.

Your chest tightened the reality of the distance between the two of you crashing back in. You forced a nod, your throat too tight to speak, and clutched the clothes tighter to your chest.

Without another word, you turned and headed toward the bathroom down the hall, your steps quick and purposeful, driven by the sudden need to put space between you and him.

You changed into the clothes Tyler had given you, silently hating how comfortable they felt. The fabric was soft and worn in all the right ways, and the faint scent of him lingering on them—woodsy, clean, and unmistakably Tyler—settled you in a way you didn’t want to admit. It felt too easy, too familiar, and you tried to shake the thought as you ran a hand over your face and took a steadying breath.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the farmhouse was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wood floors beneath your feet. You padded into the living room and spotted a throw pillow and blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch. Without giving it much thought, you reached for them and began to lay them out, preparing to make a bed for the night.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you pause, and you turned to find Tyler standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. His brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

You glanced at the blanket in your hands and then back at him. “I’m making a place to sleep,” you said simply, motioning toward the couch.

He shook his head almost immediately, his expression firm. “No, you’re not.”

Your brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean, no? I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Tyler.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice was calm and steady when he spoke. “And I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“Tyler—”

He cut you off, his tone a little more resolute this time, though still gentle. “You’re sleeping upstairs. In the bed. End of discussion.”

You frowned at him, not sure whether to feel annoyed at his stubbornness or oddly comforted by it. “And where exactly are you planning to sleep, then?”

“The couch,” he said plainly, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

“Tyler, that’s ridiculous—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted again, his voice softening just slightly. “You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re not about to spend the night crammed on this couch. You need to rest, and you’re sleeping in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the way he was looking at you—his gaze steady and full of quiet insistence—made the words catch in your throat. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you exhaled, realizing there was no point in fighting him on this.

“Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly grabbing the pillow and blanket and handing them to him. “But if you wake up sore in the morning, that’s on you.”

Tyler chuckled softly, taking them from your hands. “I’ll take my chances.”

As you turned to head upstairs, you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t until you were settled beneath the covers, the familiar scent of the farmhouse wrapping around you, that you realized how much you’d missed the quiet comfort of this place—and, if you were being honest, him.

Downstairs, you heard the faint sound of the couch creaking as Tyler settled in, followed by the soft exhale of his breath. And for the first time in days, you felt the edges of exhaustion pulling you into sleep, knowing you weren’t alone.

The soft sounds from downstairs pulled you from your sleep, and for a moment, you lay there disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. The room was too quiet, too still, and it wasn’t until you spotted the framed photos on the wall—the ones you’d seen countless times before—that you remembered where you were. Tyler’s house. His bed.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and the faint smell of coffee and something cooking reached you, accompanied by the faint clang of a pan. Pushing the covers off, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, padding toward the stairs.

The kitchen came into view as you reached the bottom step, and you stopped in the doorway, momentarily caught off guard. Tyler was standing at the stove, barefoot, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his back just enough to remind you how unfairly attractive he was. He looked so casual, so domestic, like he belonged here in this space that had always felt like home to you too. And that realization was almost too much to take, given the current mess of emotions between the two of you.

He must have heard your footsteps because he turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he saw you. “Morning,” he said, his voice warm and easy, like this was just another day in the life you used to share. “How’d you sleep?”

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Fine,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “Thanks for…everything last night.”

He just nodded, as though it were a given. “Feel free to make yourself some coffee,” he said, motioning toward the Keurig sitting on the counter.

You blinked, your gaze landing on the sleek machine that had replaced the old, battered coffee pot he’d had for years. The sight of it caught you off guard, like it was proof that time had moved on in this house even when you hadn’t been here to see it.

“I didn’t remember how you like your coffee these days,” Tyler admitted, running a hand through his hair. “With all the stuff you used to add to it, I figured I’d mess it up. But there’s still some pods and syrups in the cupboard. And I, uh—” He cleared his throat and motioned toward the fridge. “I went to the store and picked up some creamer. It’s the kind you used to like. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have it, just in case.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the small gesture that felt far too thoughtful for what you thought you deserved right now. You opened the fridge to find the familiar bottle sitting there, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at it, trying to process the sudden wave of emotions.

“Eggs’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Tyler said, his voice pulling you back. He glanced over his shoulder at you as he stirred something in the pan. “Hope you’re hungry.”

You shut the fridge door and turned, your gaze settling on him again. He looked so at ease, so natural standing there, that it made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep your voice steady as you replied, “Yeah. I think I could eat.”

He nodded, turning his attention back to the stove, and you lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before making your way to the counter to fix your coffee. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d stepped back into a memory, even though you knew things weren’t the same anymore.

Not even close.

You sat across from Tyler at the small wooden table, the one that had been in this kitchen for as long as you could remember. The plates between you held scrambled eggs and toast, simple but enough to ease the ache of an empty stomach. The air between you was thick with an awkwardness that neither of you seemed willing to address, and the only sounds filling the room were the soft scrape of forks against plates and the occasional clink of a glass being set back on the table.

You stared down at your plate, taking another small bite, trying to focus on the food and not the tension that was quietly suffocating the space. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. Setting your fork down, you cleared your throat softly, your voice tentative as you broke the silence.

“Thank you,” you said, your gaze lifting to meet his, though he didn’t look up right away. “For everything. For… being there for me.”

Tyler’s fork hovered over his plate for a moment before he set it down. He looked down at his plate, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “It was about time,” he murmured, his voice quiet but weighted. “About time I was there when you needed me to be.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, cutting through the delicate balance you’d been trying to maintain. You blinked, your throat tightening as you realized what he meant. He wasn’t just talking about yesterday or last night. He was thinking about all the times he hadn’t been there—your last birthday, the other moments and milestones you’d quietly endured alone. The guilt in his tone was unmistakable, and it settled heavily in your chest.

“Tyler…” you started, your voice soft, but he quickly shook his head, stopping you before you could go any further.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said firmly, finally glancing up at you. His eyes were steady, but there was a flicker of something raw in them that made your breath hitch. “It is what it is.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, cutting off any argument you might have made. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what you could even say to that.

Tyler leaned back in his chair, his expression softening slightly as he tried to steer the conversation away from the growing tension. “Once you’re done eating,” he said, his voice lighter now, though it still carried a trace of that earlier guilt, “I can take you over to your mom’s to get your car.”

You nodded, grateful for the change in subject, even if it felt like a half-hearted attempt to escape the unspoken weight between you. “Yeah, okay,” you murmured, reaching for your glass and taking a sip of water.

The silence returned, but this time it felt less oppressive. You both focused on finishing your meals, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a fragile truce. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

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