#so i don’t have to keep updating through asks

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I have no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning comes too soon as you toss and turn through the night. You drag yourself out of bed and wrap yourself in your housecoat before braving the cold floors of the house. It isn’t a big place but it traps draughts like a tundra cavern.

You put on a pot of coffee to brew and go through your typical routine. That day is different as you listen for Eva. You told yourself last night, you’re going to lay off. You’re going to let her figure herself out.

As you take a jar of prepared overnight oats out of the fridge and fish out a protein bar for the mid-afternoon, you hear your sister sniff. She yawns as she enters. To your surprise and relief, she dressed, presentably so. She leans on the other side of the counter and flicks her lashes.

“Coffee?” She asks, sounding only a bit desperate.

“Some left,” you confirm.

She grumbles and comes around to get her own mug and pours with another yawn. You could say it. I told you so. I told you not to stay out late for your first day. At least she’s awake.

“Good luck,” you say as you zip up your small lunch bag.

“Right,” she turns and leans on the granite and blows over the mug. You peek over your shoulder as she narrows her eyes. “How did you find me last night?”

You withhold a sigh. You don’t want to argue. You don’t need her walking into her first day in a mood.

“Eva, we can talk later.”

She’s quiet, “really? You’re tracking me?”

You grab your mug, “I really need to get ready.”

“Sure,” she scoffs.

Silence roils and you make yourself face her. “I deleted it last night, okay? I meant it. You’re an adult. You’re going to do what you’re going to do.”

“You still did that,” she says.

“I did and I’m sorry,” you admit. “I won’t make excuses. We can’t keep doing this.” You chew your lip and tap your fingers on the porcelain cup, “I just hope this works out. It’ll be nice for you to have some extra cash.”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

You leave it. She’s going to simmer for a while. In her shoes, you would too. You take your coffee into the bathroom and put it on the counter. As you open the mirror to grab your face cleanser, you wince. You blow through your lips as you shut the reflective door.

You put the bottle down and untie your house coat. You roll up your camisole and cringe. You gently touch the tender spot along your ribs. It's bruised pretty good. The bone hurts too but you’re not too worried about a break.

You shudder and ignore the soreness as you go through the steps. Cleanse, moisturise, tone. Brush your teeth, figure out your hair. Then only a swipe of mascara, a tint of lip stain, and a subtle kiss from your blush stick. Natural but something. You were never one for the whole primer to highlighter parade.

You put on a striped blue blouse and a pair of grey herringbone pants. You spritz a bit of jasmine body spray over yourself then go to get your lunch and purse. You step into your leather loafers and shrug on your beige jacket.

“Eva, am I driving you?” You call down.

“Coming,” she scuffles around unseen before she appears.

If she isn’t in the best mood, she does look her best. She’s added a rosegold chain to her skirt and sweater combo, and a pair of slingback kitten heels, some earrings, and her face and hair are just perfectly done. Not too much, not too little. Her freckles peek through and give her a little extra character.

“Wow, you look nice,” you praise.

“Really? You look dead inside,” she snickers.

You’re relieved that she’s joking. You take it with a shrug, “Time of death, I’d say ten years ago.” She rolls her eyes, “you bring something to eat?”

“Nah, I looked up the place. It’s near Sage. I’ll go there.”

“Okay,” you accept. You’re not sure where she got the money to do so. You eat in chronically but she’s always out with her friends getting all the fancy lattes and fusions.

You head out, not used to the company. It's about time she got something going. She worked at the dentist office for a summer in high school but she hated her boss. You told her that she probably always will. Lord knows you’re no fan of yours.

“No pressure, but try to make this one work, Eva,” you say. “I called in a favour for it.”

“I know,” she snips. “You don’t need to remind me. I didn’t ask, you know?”

“I’m not—I just—I only want the best,” you resign. “I shouldn’t project. I know you will do wonderfully.”

She blows a raspberry, “alright, cheesy.”

You steer along the usual route. Her building is only a block from yours. You drop her off like you would outside school. Her teen years were rough. For you, but not her. After you left her with your mom, you made sure she got to graduation. You feel like you owe her so much more for abandoning her for so long. If you hadn’t though, would you be here? Would you be able to get her out at all?

You continue down to your office building. There’s a loud rumble behind you. A motorcycle. You hate the things. They remind you of someone you’d rather not think of. Not to mention they’re noisy and put out pollution like crazy.

You flip on your blinker as the early morning rider skims past you. Your parking past dangles from the rear view as you find a spot in the grid. You gather up your things and ready yourself for another day.

You march inside and opt for the stairs. You try to skip the elevator at least three times a week. Your job keeps you idle far too much. Even with a standing desk. As you climb, your breath picks up and the bruise on your side throbs. You should’ve popped some advil.

You get to your floor and get yourself set up. You raise the desk and straighten the standing mat. You sign into your station and start down the new list of orders. As you ease into the morning, others arrive and groggily do the same.

Your fingers skitter over the keyboard in a flurry. As you send another request to the mail dock, a shadow appears in your peripheral. Mr. Walker leans the corner of your desk. For a moment, you wonder if he has a brother or cousin that likes to troll the bars for young girls.

Your boss puts his other hand on his hip. Even with your desk raised, he dwarfs it with his size. You pause your typing and look at him.

“Morning, Mr. Walker,” you say.

“Morning,” he returns. “I didn’t even see you here, hiding.”

That’s the problem. Standing, sitting, no one notices you behind the double monitors.

“Big day, huh?” He asks.

You stare at him, confused for a moment.

“Yeah, Hansen was saying your sister starts today?”

“Right, uh, yeah,” you affirm. “Thanks, again. I really appreciated the referral.”

“You’re a hard worker,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hansen is a bit of a hard ass. I should’ve warned you.” He adds.

You nearly blurt out your first thought; look who’s talking.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine, she is your sister,” he remarks as his fingers curl around the corner of the desk. “Really kind of you to take her in.”

You don’t think you’ve ever spoken so much to Walker. Not since you asked him to put in a good word for Eva. Even then, he kept to his short replies and grunts.

“She’s family,” you say.

“Sure, but... I don’t know. Thought you would already have one of those,” he replies. You tweak a brow. “Kids, husband? I always sort of assumed...”

“A woman my age, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t... no, not because of that, I just... you’re very responsible.”

“Thank you, sir,” you shift on your soles. “I was just getting started on that Lafayette order.”

“Mmmm,” he hums and tilts his head. He drags his hand down his tie. He’s a big man. Most people are compared to you but he’s gargantuan. “Always working hard.”

“Yes, sir,” you look at your screen and click on the spreadsheet, changing the cell colour of the last completed order.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me,” he slaps the corner of your desk then struts off.

You stay focused on your screens. That was strange but you’re not stupid. He’s reminding you of his favour. He wants you to remember that you owe him. You’re sure you’ll be picking up overtime to pay him back.

Work rolls on. Dull, repetitive, but it pays the bills. You eat your oats at your desk as you make your way through the daily rota. You can’t help but notice Mr. Walker’s frequent trips to the break room. It tempts you to grab a coffee yourself as your eyes burn but you resist. You're trying to cut back on caffeine.

When the day ends, your protein bar sits beside the base of your monitor. You’re hungry but you can wait for supper. You sign off and lock your desk. You check your phone. No messages from Eva. Is that good or bad?

As you come into the overcast afternoon, the day weighs in your shoulders and hips. All day you can’t wait to be done but by the time you’re free, you’re exhausted. You dig out your keys and traipse along the row of bumpers to your car.

You hit the button to unlock the Honda and the roar of a motorcycle tears through the air. To your surprise, it only gets louder. You have the door open as its shadow rolls up behind your car. You throw your bags into the passenger seat and ignore it. That is until, the engine quiets and the steel beast doesn’t move from behind your vehicle.

Don’t tell me Eva hopped on someone’s bike. She would. A final act of rebellion before she surrenders to corporate purgatory. You look over, further disappointed by what really awaits you.

The man in leather undoes his helmet, vintage without a visor or anything. He tucks it under his arm and slides off his sunglasses. You recognise him. That’s not good.

His jacket is zipped to his chin but you’re certain that gold medallion hangs against his chest. It’s the same man as the night before. The one that was a little too late. How did he find you?

You shake your head and dip into the driver’s seat. Before you can close the door, his gloved hand is on it. He keeps it open as he steps up. You sigh.

“Sir, would you kindly move your bike?” You drone as you ram your keys into the ignition.

“Hey, doll, just wanna talk,” he says.

“I have somewhere to be,” you reach for the door and he steps closer, inserting himself so you couln’t close if you try.

You keep your eyes aimed at the windshield. Your other hand reaches for your purse. He clucks.

"Now, you don't gotta go calling anyone. Got a few buddies on the force I wouldn't mind catching up with but I'm being good," he steps back and shows his palms. "Just curious."

"I said I'm on my way somewhere--" you begin and grip the wheel.

"To get your daughter? You're a good mom--"

You stay silent. There's not much you can say that won't make this worse. It's none of your business. Piss off. A few choice epithets.

You search the brick wall ahead of you. Your heart beats faster and faster. No matter how you avoid men, they make themselves a problem.

You grab the shifter and crank it. You hit the gas and jerk backwards. You hit his bike and it crashes with a clatter. He let's go of the door as the door jars him.

"The fuck?" He exclaims.

You have just enough room to turn through the empty spot next to you. It's a deep spin of the wheel but you manage to redirect and roll past his bike.

As you swerve around and set the car straight, you glance over. He rubs his shoulder as he watches you, approaching his overturned bike with stunned steps. To your surprise, there's a big grin across his face.

Shit.

You stomp the pedal and tear out of the lot. You don't look as you turn into traffic and you squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. What the fuck!

[sturnschris]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF U.

pairings : smart!gg!reader x bf!chris

content: reader shows up at chris‘s house in the middle of the might and things quickly lead too sex

warnings: PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE. (can u tell this au is au comes with a loooooot of praise), established relationship, A LOT OF SMUT, smut without real plot,unprotected sex (do not do), cream pie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, from the back, fingering, softdom!chris x sub!smart!goodgirl!reader, etc……

a/n: this is in my old theme | this took super long too write and im still not happy w it but here you go + it doesn’t rlly have an ending 😭

too lazy too count words rn maybe ill update this.

love ya!💋

“who the fuck is that?” chris muttered to himself, getting up from the couch. nick and matt had gone to sam’s house, but chris had stayed behind, wanting some alone time with you. of course, he’d completely forgotten you had an exam to study for, so here he was, alone at 4 a.m., mindlessly scrolling through youtube. he opened the door and blinked in surprise. “baby? what are you doing here?” you looked up at him, shivering slightly. “can i come in?” “of course, my love. come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you in. his brows furrowed in concern as he closed the door behind you. “are you okay? what happened? i thought you were at home studying.” you sighed, stepping out of your wet shoes and wrapping your arms around yourself. “i was, but then i couldn’t concentrate, so i went to the library. but it started raining, so i decided to wait until it stopped. except now it’s 4 a.m., and it still hasn’t stopped.” chris smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “why didn’t you ask me to pick you up, hmm?” you frowned, looking away. “i don’t want to rely on my boyfriend all the time.” he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “you don’t have to, baby. but let me take care of you, okay? you can always call me.”

you nod and lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips. he smiles against your mouth, his hands gently settling on your waist, pulling you closer. “you’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “let’s get you into something warm, baby.” without waiting for a response, he’s already guiding you toward his room, grabbing one of his hoodies from the back of a chair. “here,” he says, holding it out for you. “take off those wet clothes and put this on.” you slip out of your damp clothes and pull the hoodie over your head. it’s big on you, the fabric enveloping you in warmth, and the scent of him clings to you like a comforting embrace. chris steps closer, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “you look good in my brand,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “perfect fit.” he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deep kiss. his hands move lower, gently gripping your thighs as he backs you toward the bed. the kiss grows deeper, more urgent, and you can feel the heat radiating between you. “let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sliding up to your waist as he pulls you closer, guiding you towards the bed.

he sits down on the bed and pats his thighs, motioning for you to come closer. you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. his hands find your waist, steadying you, his touch warm and firm. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his other hand rests at the small of your back, keeping you close. your cheeks heat up at his words, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss. his lips move against yours with a soft urgency, and you can feel his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if anchoring you to him. your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, pulling him even closer, your body melting into his as the kiss deepens. his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, he chuckles, the sound low and teasing as his lips hover over yours. “so eager, huh?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every second. “need you, chris,” you whisper, your voice soft and pleading, a slight pout forming on your lips. his eyes darken at your words, something shifting in his expression as he stares at you. “yeah?” his voice drops, low and smooth. “how bad, ma?”

your face flushes instantly, heat creeping up your neck as your gaze drops to avoid his intense stare. your shyness takes over, too embarrassed to say anything, and he notices, his smirk growing. he gently lifts your chin with his index finger, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “c’mon, baby,” he coaxes, his voice laced with both dominance and softness. “need to hear you say it. hm?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his tone dropping even lower. “you gonna be my good girl?” you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you s’bad, chris.” his smile grows, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “atta girl,” he murmurs, his voice warm and dripping with approval. his hands slide up your thighs, gripping just enough to make you shiver as he holds you steady in his lap.“that’s all i needed to hear,“in one swift movement, he flips you over, pressing you into the bed so you’re face down, ass up. a gasp escapes your lips, but it quickly turns into a soft whimper when you feel his hands firmly gripping your hips, holding you in place. he tugs your pants down with ease, your underwear sliding off with them in one smooth motion, leaving you exposed to him.

his warm hand trails down the curve of your spine before sliding lower, his fingers teasingly running through your folds. you let out a quiet, shaky whimper at the contact, your body instinctively arching into his touch. he grins behind you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as his fingers explore. “so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “you like that, baby?” you nod, your breaths coming out in uneven gasps, your body already responding to him in ways you can’t control. “yeah, you do,” he says, his tone full of pride, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring how easily you fall apart under his touch. “so fucking good for me.”he slowly slides one finger into your soaking cunt, his movements deliberate as he thrusts it in and out, letting you feel every inch. a soft gasp escapes your lips, and your back instinctively arches, pressing yourself closer to him as he stretches you out once again.

“so tight, baby,” he murmurs, his voice laced with approval as he watches the way your body reacts to him. his free hand grips your hip, holding you steady as his finger pumps in and out of you, curling slightly to hit just the right spot. you whimper, burying your face into the sheets, your body trembling with every slow, deliberate thrust of his finger. “chris,” you breathe out, your voice barely audible, but he hears it loud and clear. “that’s it,” he says, his tone dark and full of praise. “take it, baby. let me stretch you out. you’re doing so good for me.” he adds a second finger, easing it in slowly, and the stretch makes you gasp again. his fingers move in sync, curling and thrusting deeper, drawing soft moans from you with each motion. “your so perfect,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the small of your back.

you clench around his fingers, your body trembling, signaling that you’re close. but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty. “n-no,” you whimper, turning your bright red face toward him, your lips trembling. “i-i was so close.”he grins, his confidence radiating as he brings his slick fingers to your lips, brushing them against your bottom lip. “i know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “but i want you to cum on my cock, okay? can you do that for me?”your cheeks burn even brighter as his words settle over you, and you nod shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. “y-yes, chris.” “goooood girl,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hands grip your hips, positioning you exactly how he wants, his touch firm yet careful. “gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

he grips your hips, guiding you to arch your back just a little more as he presses his body against yours. you feel the weight of his cock against your folds, and it makes you whimper softly, your thighs trembling in anticipation. “look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride as he teases your entrance, sliding his tip through your slick. “so wet for me, baby. you want it that bad, huh?” you nod, biting your lip, your face still flushed. “please, chris,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. he chuckles darkly, leaning over you so his chest brushes your back, his lips brushing against your ear. “don’t be shy now, ma,” he coaxes, his hand sliding up your side to cup your cheek gently. “tell me what you want. i wanna hear you.” you swallow hard, your voice trembling as you manage to whisper, “i want you… i want all of you, chris.” “that’s my fucking girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before slowly pushing into you, inch by inch, his hand never leaving your hip as he keeps you steady. the stretch makes you gasp, and he pauses, letting you adjust. “you’re so pretty,” he whispers, his tone softer now, full of adoration. “taking me so well, baby.”

he starts thrusting slowly, his movements deliberate as he watches the way your body reacts to him. your eyes roll back, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and your back arches instinctively, craving more. “faster, please!” you cry out, your voice desperate and trembling. he chuckles darkly, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek, the contrast between his soft touch and rough pace making your body shiver. “so polite, hmm?” he teases, his tone dripping with approval as he picks up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and deeper. your fingers grip the bed sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as the pleasure builds with each movement. you bury your face into the pillow, muffling the loud screech that escapes you as he drives into you harder, your body trembling under his control. “that’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice low and full of praise. “take it all. take everything i give you.“ his grip on your hips tightens, holding you firmly in place as he keeps up his relentless pace, each thrust pulling more sounds from you.

the pleasure in your stomach builds embarrassingly fast, and panic settles in as you realize how close you are after such a short time. how do you tell him? you can’t. you’ll just hold it—you have to. but of course, you should have known better. the second you clench down around him, chris lets out a low groan, his pace faltering for just a moment before his grip on your hips tightens. “you gonna cum, princess?” his voice is low, teasing, laced with amusement as he watches your body betray you. you shake your head vigorously, your face burning with embarrassment. “n-no— mmm- agh,” you manage to choke out, your words dissolving into a mess of moans as he thrusts even deeper, pushing you closer to the edge you’re desperately trying to avoid.

“no?” he repeats, a teasing edge to his voice, before snapping his hips harder, the force making you cry out. the sudden intensity sends a shockwave through you, and before you can stop it, your orgasm crashes down on you, ripping a loud screech from your lips. your body trembles violently, your walls fluttering around him as waves of pleasure roll through you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. his grip on your hips tightens, holding you steady as he continues thrusting, riding you through your high.

but he doesn’t slow down, his pace relentless as the overstimulation starts to overwhelm you. your legs are shaking uncontrollably, and your toes curl as another whimper escapes your lips. “s‘too much,” you cry out, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill from the intensity coursing through your body. chris leans over you, his hand wrapping around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make you listen, grounding you in his control. “c’mon, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his lips brushing against your ear. “you can take it. i know you can. you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you let out a shaky sob, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin, but his words are enough to keep you from breaking entirely. his grip on your neck tightens slightly, his thumb brushing your jaw in a gesture that somehow feels both tender and commanding. “just a little more,” he growls, his thrusts growing harder and more erratic as he starts chasing his own high, your body clenching and trembling beneath him. “give me one more, princess. i know you’ve got it in you.“

your eyebrows scrunch together, and your head falls into the pillows, your screams muffled as the pleasure overwhelms you. “gonna cum, baby,” chris growls, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” but his words barely register—you’re too lost, too busy chasing your own high to answer him. his hand tangles in your hair, gently pulling your head up as he taps your cheek, his touch both commanding and grounding. “c’mon, ma, listen to me,” he urges, his tone firm but soft enough to pull you back to him. you manage to nod weakly, still trembling, but he needs more. “where—fuck—where do you want it?” your mind is a blissful haze, thoughts incoherent as your body writhes beneath him. thinking feels impossible, but somehow, you manage to squeeze out the words through broken moans. “i-in me… ah—mmh—” his lips curl into a smirk, his movements faltering for just a moment as he takes in your response. “fuck, i love you,” he groans, his voice heavy with both affection and raw desire. his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, chasing his release as your walls flutter around him, pulling him closer to the edge.

he lets go of your head, letting it fall back onto the pillows as your body trembles beneath him. without missing a beat, chris reaches down, his fingers finding your swollen clit, massaging tight circles that send shockwaves through your already overstimulated body. the sensation is too much, your back arching as a broken scream escapes your lips. your walls flutter and clench around him, your orgasm crashing into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision blurs as your body goes limp, completely at his mercy.“fuck, that’s it,” chris groans, his movements growing erratic as he chases his own release. the way you grip him, tight and trembling, sends him over the edge. with one final deep thrust, he lets go, thick ropes of his release spilling into you as his hips stutter. he collapses over you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder and back, his hands gently soothing over your trembling body.

“you did so good, mama,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection as his hands continue to gently rub over your sides, grounding you. your body is still trembling slightly, but his touch soothes the aftershocks. you hum in response, too blissed out to form proper words, your cheek pressed into the pillow as your breathing begins to steady. his lips brush against your shoulder, leaving lazy kisses in their wake.“my smart girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with pride, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “always so good for me.” his words make your heart swell, and you manage to mumble a quiet “all for you” before your body completely relaxes into him.

there will be a pt. 2 which will be the after care and it will be based on THIS ask!

all dividers from. @issysh3ll

@delooshunalhoe @chrisdollete @christophersturnn @sturniologirlzz @sturnxies @lov3bug @mattsside @emely9274 @sturnlovematt22 @sophand4n4 @sfoiasturn @blahbel668

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 47

Chapter 47 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie tries to convince the nurse at the VA hospital to let him go back out there with Athena as his backup, while Buck continues his search for Chris, which is getting more hopeless by the second.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: self loathing, injury, minor character death mention, grief

~~~

Chapter 47: Don’t Give Up

Buck has been stumbling around for hours. His head is woozy and he feels weak. However, he keeps pushing, keeps going, keeps walking, keeps swimming. He has to just keep swimming. Like Dory. He can’t let Chris down.

He’s looked everywhere and it seems Chris has all but disappeared from the face of the earth. That has implications he doesn’t want to think about.

So, he doesn’t. He just keeps swimming.

Just keep swimming.

Just keep…

He tilts, but rights himself with a start, before rubbing his face to wake himself up. He can’t fall over now, he has to find Chris. Has to keep swimming.

In the distance, he sees lights. They’re swaying, but maybe that’s just him. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting there. People are collecting there. People are going there. Chris is people. Chris could be there. Buck just has to get there, just has to keep swimming a little longer.

The only thing that keeps him awake is the stabbing pain in his leg. He’s pretty sure that is not good, but he can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s just reached the VA hospital.

“Are you okay? Let me get your name and some help,” a nurse stops him.

“No.” Buck shakes his head. “No.” He can’t be helped yet, he can’t stop. If he stops, he sinks and he can’t sink. He has to keep swimming.

“No?” the nurse frowns.

“I need to find Chris,” he manages to get out. “Christopher Diaz. Did he come here?” Now that he’s close to getting a possible answer, adrenaline courses through his veins, propping him up enough to make it through this.

The nurse checks the papers. Neither of them can know that Christopher is at that very same hospital already, just a few meters away, his name on a list, but one that has not gone around to be updated yet. “I don’t see him on here. You may wanna check over there at the black tent.”

Buck turns slowly to see what the nurse is talking about. The black tent he indicated is a sad place, with body-bags being filled every moment as more and more of the dead are counted. The harsh reality of a natural disaster made visible.

In turning to look at the black tent, he does not see less terrible aspects of a natural disaster. The people that made it through, the people that have found a loved one, instead of lost them. Like Bosko and Ronnie, and even Eddie and Athena.

Athena, who assures Eddie she’s okay as she scans him for injuries, by saying: “Not my blood.”

“Ronnie?” Bosko asks the form on the stretcher, eyes wide with horror. Eddie’s eyes instantly follow her, managing to add it not being Athena’s blood up to it then being Ronnie’s.

However, luck is on their side here, because Ronnie manages to open his eyes, smiling tiredly as he asks: “Bosko?”

“Y- Yeah, it’s me. Everyone’s okay, they’re all okay,” Bosko cries.

“Tha’s- Tha’s good,” Ronnie nods haphazardly.

Bosko sends Eddie and Athena a worried look and Eddie waves her away. He has new back up now in the form of Athena. Bosko needs be to with her Captain. She’s done more than enough for him. He has family in his corner now, Bosko should be backing her own family.

“What’s going on here?” Athena asks, catching on that something is wrong.

“She’s not letting me go back out there,” Eddie answers immediately as he points at the nurse. He feels a bit like a little kid, tattling to his mom, but he doesn’t care. “Buck is out there, ‘Thena. He’s out there and she won’t let him look for him.”

Understanding dawns on Athena’s face and she says: “Bobby said you’d be out there looking. You still haven’t found him?”

Eddie’s throat feels tight as he swallows and shakes his head. “No.” The weight of that word heavy in his stomach. It’s been a while since he’s run into anyone who’d seen Buck and he knows what that can mean, even if he doesn’t want to face it. It’s why he has to go back out there. Has to find him.

Athena closes her eyes for a moment, as if processing a hit. Eddie can relate to the feeling, he’s been feeling it for hours now. He feels like he failed Buck. Like he failed everyone. He has always sucked at being a husband, but at least it didn’t get Shannon killed.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Athena says, seeing it on his face. “He’s out there, you can’t give up.”

His lip wobbles and he feels like he’s drowning, like the water clawed its way up his legs and crawled down his throat, forcing itself into his lungs and into his skull, pushing at his eyes as it fills him, drowns him. With quiet voice, he confesses: “I love him. I love him and I never said and now I might never get to.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Athena sighs, pulling him in a hug.

Eddie buries his face in the crook of her neck. He lets himself teeter on the edge of breaking down, shaking silent sobs, but never letting a tear fall. It’s hard to step back from that ledge when you’re already tumbling down. However, he forces himself to step back, to suck it up and look Athena in the eyes as he implores: “I have to go find him.”

Athena meets his eyes for a moment, then nods, before barking at the nurse: “Why are you keeping this man here against his will?”

The nurse looks surprised by the turn of events as she explains: “We want to avoid people getting lost in the dark, those who make it to the collection points have to wait there until they can be evacuated. I can’t let him go out there until he’s with his unit, especially not with a child.”

“Give Chris here.”

“What?”

“Give him here, I’ll keep him safe and send you out with some of my people, tell them to let you go your own way. Or maybe help you, if you’d like,” she says.

Relief and gratitude wash over him at the offer and he quickly undoes the sling, moving Chris from his back to his hip, before setting him down on the ground. He kneels in front of him, draping the blanket around his shoulder as he says: “You heard that, mijo? You’re gonna stay with Athena, so I can find papi for us.”

“No,” Chris shakes his head stubbornly. Eddie pinky promised that they’d find papi. They as in the two of them. Chris isn’t just going to be left behind.

Much like his son, Buck is stubbornly refusing to take what he’s being told. “No. No. No.” Again he’s shaking his head in denial. That black tent can’t be where today ends. Buck just needs to keep searching, needs to keep going, keep swimming. Chris is out there, he has to be. He can’t have killed Chris. His own son. Eddie’s son. Their child. He refuses to believe it.

An empty void, an ache, claws at his insides. It feels as if the pit of his stomach has turned into a black hole, trying to suck his entire being into it. He cannot continue to exist if Chris is truly dead. If Buck truly killed him. He- He just can’t.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” the nurse says sympathetically. However, it’s clearly not the first time he’s had to break terrible news to someone today.

“No!” Buck doesn’t want to believe it. Chris isn’t on the list. He’s not on there. They might have a list of the dead, but Chris isn’t there and until he sees Chris’s body, he’s not going to believe it. He refuses.

With almost inhuman willpower, he forces himself up. Up and moving. He can’t stop yet. He has to keep swimming. He has to get back out there. He was weak moments ago, but not now, not as he shrugs off the hand that tries to stop him.

“Sir. Sir! I can’t let you leave again,” the nurse protests as he grabs at Buck’s shirt to stop him, but Buck just keeps walking.

“Papi?” Chris’s voice interrupts Eddie’s patient explanation as to why Chris can’t come with him, no matter how badly they both want to.

The switch of his tone is enough for Eddie to pause, then he hears Buck’s voice and his head whips around as he practically gives himself whiplash.

Behind them, Buck in the middle of a commotion. There’s a nurse pulling at him and telling him to stop, while Buck stubbornly tries to walk on, walk back out into the dark.

Buck shouldn’t be standing. His face is all scratched up and there are multiple cuts on his arms bleeding sluggishly. To not even mention the way he keeps nearly buckling, nearly tilting over, even as he puts up a fight.

Despite it all, he looks like a mirage in the desert to Eddie, like a hero from the tales of old, persevering in the face of impossible odds.

Then it hits him that Buck is there. That he found him. That he is about to slip through his fingers once more, because he is absolutely winning that fight. The thought is enough to jolt him into action, calling out: “Buck! Buck!” Athena has Chris, he needs to run now, before Buck is gone. Before he loses him once more.

The yells don’t register. Buck is so focused on getting to the exit, getting out of here, shaking this weight, so he can keep going, keep swimming. So, he’s completely taken by surprise when a weight smashes into him from the side.

He lets out a groan as he is unbalanced. For a moment, he thinks he is being tackled, but whoever hit him is spinning so he can take Buck’s weight. Then the smell hits him. It’s waterlogged and the sweat scent is stronger than usual, however it’s unmistakably Eddie. It’s home.

His senses refocus and he can feel Eddie’s arms around him, hugging him tightly, the mop of brown hair right under his nose, as Eddie says: “Oh my god, I’m so glad I found you. I found you. You’re here. I got you.”

Buck feels frozen. He wants to melt into Eddie, wants to tuck himself into this bit of warmth, this bit of comfort. Today has been the worst day of his life and all he wants is the shelter Eddie has always offered him. The safety.

But how can he? How can he let Eddie comfort him, when he lost their son?

“Eddie…” he starts with no clue how to go on. His vision blurring and throat tightening until noise becomes almost too difficult.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, looking worried as he pulls back to take a better look at him.

He doesn’t deserve that worry, not with what he’s done. Eddie must not know, must not have realized what his presence here means. He’s in his firefighter uniform. He’s probably been out there helping people, oblivious to what has happened.

Right now, the choice to let Eddie do his job while Buck did his, seems monumentally stupid. He is not ready to break this news to Eddie. He probably never will be. However, he can’t keep this to himself, not for his own comfort. Eddie deserves to know. It will break them forever, but Buck is slowly starting to realize this might be something he can’t fix, because how do you fix the death of your child?

Buck takes a deep breath and says: “Eddie… We, uhm- me and Christopher, we were at the- the beach and, uhm- and listen to me, okay? I swear to you, okay, I tried. And I just- but I- Eddie. I- I don’t know how to say this, but I- I lost him.” His voice breaks and tears start up as he gasps: “I lost our son.”

Eddie is shaking his head and Buck knows the feeling. He also didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true. It’s what happened. It’s not until he said it, until he’s looked Eddie in the eyes and said it that it became real.

Chris is gone.

Their son is gone.

Grief hits him hard and he has to look away, but Eddie doesn’t let him. There’s a hand on his cheek, on his face and Eddie is forcing him to look him in the eye. Buck screws his eyes shut, not wanting to see the blame, the anger.

However, Eddie’s voice is gentle as he says: “Buck. Buck, look at me. You didn’t lose him. I got him, okay? I got him, you didn’t lose him. You saved him.”

Buck doesn’t believe it, eyes snapping open, but Eddie looks to be truthful and indeed, he can hear a voice that can’t belong to anyone other than Chris call out: “Papi! Papi!”

“Chris? Christopher,” Buck calls back, frantically looking around before he spots Athena coming up behind Eddie, carrying Chris in her arms.

Eddie steps to the side, never breaking the contact with Buck, just shifting so he can take Buck’s weight, while he moves to meet Chris in the middle.

Athena hands Chris over to Eddie, who immediately makes sure Buck can reach him. The two of them falling each other in the arms as it becomes a group hug. Chris’s curls are dry since so much time has passed, still smelling like he used to do as toddler, even if it’s buried under the smell of dirty sea water.

“Oh my god, Chris,” Buck cries, tears rolling down his face and into Chris’s hair as he weeps, hands gripping the back of both Eddie’s and Chris’s shirts so tightly. He never wants to let this moment go, never. He’s never been so relieved before. It doesn’t matter what has happened before right now, because he gets to hold his family again.

“Papi, we found you. We saved you like you saved me,” Chris says, excitedly and proud.

“You did, Superman, you did,” Buck smiles through his tears. It leaves him weak in the knees and he officially buckles as today finally catches up with hi,

Eddie makes sure to soften his descent, holding him closely as he lowers the three of them to the ground. If he weren’t so exhausted, he would be more obsessed with how strong Eddie is that he takes both their weight easily and controlled, even after what must have been a heavy day.

They end up on the ground with Buck sitting sideways between Eddie’s legs, leaning against his chest to stay upright. Chris is more on Buck’s lap than Eddie’s at this point. It shouldn’t be, but it’s the most comfortable Buck has felt all day.

“I got you,” Eddie promises and Buck swears he feels a brush of Eddie’s lips over his forehead when he does.

Though, it must be the exhaustion that overtakes him, because he starts to pass out. Still, the words – however imagined they may be – knit the skin of his heart together. He didn’t break this beyond repair and that brings a lightness to him, even if he only manages a crooked grin as he mumbles: “I know, you always got me,” and then he’s out.

When Buck goes slack in his arms, Eddie’s heart stops for a second, but then he feels puffs of breath against his neck. So when Chris gives him big worried eyes and asks: “Is papi okay?” he says: “Papi’s gonna be okay. We got him. Can you get off or do you need help?”

“I got him,” Bobby’s voice is suddenly next to them, picking Chris up after getting a nod from the boy.

“Cap?” Eddie can’t help but say, not having heard or seen them arrive, however, when he looks, the whole 118 is there.

“He was really out there?” Hen says with a concerned frown. “I mean, I know we’ve been looking, but it didn’t feel real.”

“Yeah, and I need a stretcher, right now,” Eddie calls out. He doesn’t have time to catch up with them. Buck needs him, Buck trusts Eddie to have him. He’s not going to let him down. Not again, never again.

Like professionals, Hen and Chimney spring into action as Eddie calls out orders for them to get a drip for Buck; fluids to replenish what he lost and antibiotics, he’s been out there in the filth with open wounds. There is no stretcher available, but there is a bed for Eddie to carry him to.

Despite not usually being the paramedic, the other two let Eddie push them out of the way as he does it all by himself. They give him some looks, but Eddie doesn’t doubt Bobby recounted his breakdown at the engine of the 136 to them. So they must know something about his state.

He’s probably also being obvious, but he doesn’t care. He almost lost Buck today, he’s never going to let him go, not without letting him know how sorry he is for running and how much Buck means to him. How much he loves him.

Eddie has been running, but trying to find a way back. To have a natural disaster push them back into each other’s orbit feels like a sign. If Eddie is ever going to believe in the universe, it will be because of this, because it gave Buck back to him, because it didn’t make someone he loves leave him again.

Pretty soon, Eddie got Buck hooked up and sleeping on a cot. He is efficient and good at his job and he does nothing but the best for his Buck.

With the work done, Eddie feels his own exhaustion catch up with him. So, he has collapsed onto the chair next to Buck’s bed, his hand in his own, Chris now on this lap. Together they watch Buck sleep.

To assure Chris, Eddie says: “Papi is sleeping like he was in the hospital, remember that, mijo? He had to rest so he could get better.”

“Yeah, he had to sleep for forever,” Chris nods. “It was so boring.”

Eddie snorts, then agrees: “Yeah, it was kinda boring, wasn’t it. But we’re gonna let him sleep, right?”

“Of course,” Chris says very seriously. Then he yawns and mumbles: “But only because I’m maybe a little sleepy too. He’s not allowed to be boring forever.”

“He won’t,” Eddie laughs, kissing the top of Chris’s head as he softly says: “Go to sleep, Chris. I’ll watch over him.”

“Alright, daddy, wake me up if papi does?” Chris ask.

“I will,” Eddie promises.

Chris drops off within seconds. It seems like that is the signal the others have been waiting for, because they move closer from where they’ve been hovering. Bobby speaks first: “Seems like you found him.”

“I did,” Eddie says cautiously.

“Seems like you followed my orders,” Bobby says, giving him a slightly mischievous look, as if he knows Eddie didn’t in the slightest.

Some of Eddie’s nerves settle at that and he grins. “I did. Bosko’s here too. Don’t say you doubted me?”

“Never,” Bobby tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s joking around anymore. Like he genuinely never doubted Eddie. It feels weirdly nice to be trusted like that, even when he knows he doesn’t really deserve it with how he fucked up these past few months.

Hen checks Buck over, Eddie doesn’t take offense, he keeps his fingers on Buck’s pulse to assure himself he’s okay. She looks up at Eddie and asks again: “Was he really out there all day?”

Eddie’s face darkens as he remembers today and he nods. “He was. Must have pulled at least two dozen people out the rubble or to safety on the way. I don’t know how he did it. A hospital’s gonna need to take a look at that leg again.”

“Guess he probably won’t be re-certifying in a month,” Chimney grimaces in sympathy.

“God, he’s gonna hate that,” Hen also sympathizes. “Pretty sure he was climbing the walls with the need to do something. Isn’t that right, Eddie?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Chimney asks incredulously.

“I haven’t been home in two weeks,” Eddie says, unsure why he’s suddenly confessing all this. He can’t even look any of them in the eye, just staring holes in Buck’s forehead, to where one of his curls is sticking to it. He should straighten that out.

“What?” Hen chokes.

“You’re in the dog house, Diaz?” Chimney asks.

“I fucked up and I ran,” Eddie says with shame, before determination hardens him again. “But I’m gonna make it right. I’m not going to fuck up like that again. I’m doing better now. I just needed to get back and now I’m back.”

He misses the way everyone exchanges looks behind them. All of them have their own theories about what’s going on, however, this isn’t the moment to prod or push. So, Chimney breaks the moment by clearing his throat and saying: “I’m gonna call Maddie, tell her we found him.”

“Good idea,” Bobby says. “I’ll call the Chief, explain why I’m sending you home and getting some transport for Buck. He needs care for that leg.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, meaning more than just the organization of right now.

Soon, he finds himself carrying a sleeping Chris on one hip, before carrying an equally unconscious Buck into the back of a van. No ambulance, because they can’t spare one, definitely not an air lift, because thankfully he’s not critical enough for that, but a van is already pretty good.

However, a van means it jolts more than an ambulance, especially with how rough the terrain is in the aftermath of a tsunami. So when there is a particularly hard bump, Buck blearily opens his eyes, not fully conscious, but not unconscious either.

Like the stubborn, lovable dumbass he is, he starts to get up, groaning something about needing to find Chris and needing to keep swimming.

“You found Chris,” Eddie assures him, letting go of Buck’s hand so he can push him back down, before he hurts himself. “Look, here. Chris is safe. Rest, Buck.”

“Christopher,” Buck says with a relieved smile when he spots Chris.

“Yeah, Christopher,” Eddie confirms, his heart bursting with love and affection. It’s probably written all over his face, but he can’t push it down, even if he wanted to.

Buck now looks at him, face clearing up as he exclaims: “Eddie! You’re here. You came back.”

“I did,” Eddie says, heart wrenching slightly at how awed Buck sounds when he says that. “And I’m never going to leave you again,” he adds, because he can never let Buck doubt that again.

“You promise?” Buck asks, vulnerable edge to his voice.

“I promise,” Eddie says, feeling equally vulnerable. It makes him a little uncomfortable, laying himself bare like that, so he jabs: “You’re stuck with me, Buckley. Married me and everything. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good. Don’t ever want to be rid of you,” Buck tells him with a goofy smile.

Eddie can feel the blush color his cheeks at that. He doesn’t know what that means yet, but it makes him feels warm and fuzzy inside. That horrible crush – deep love, but shush – creeping up on him and making him feel like a middle schooler writing his last name next to Buck’s and doodling hearts around it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to figure out how to react to that, because Buck slips back into unconsciousness immediately after.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop one of the elderly ladies they’re sharing the van to wistfully comment: “Och, young love,” which makes Eddie’s ear burn. It’s going to be a long drive to the hospital.

~~

A/N:

No, confession, I know, boooo, but I wanted to keep it a Chris moment, because that scene in canon rips me to shreds every single time and then it didn’t fit with the vibes.

However, fear not, the slow burn is almost a flame! (would be kind of rough if it wasn’t with only three more chapters to go, but still). Let’s see if Eddie can keep up that talking streak when outside a disaster zone xp

[brightlotusmoon]

I’m heartened by the actions our courts have taken so far, and I’ll continue working closely to support these efforts.

And while we’re not in the majority, I am also determined to fight back in the Senate with every tool we have. Without Republicans on board, we don’t have the numbers to stop Trump’s moves outright, but we can slow him down. That’s why I have said the Senate should NOT operate under business as usual. And that’s why I’m voting NO on Trump’s nominees. Along with Senator Brian Schatz, I’m holding up every Trump political nominee for the State Department – as well as other nominees – until Trump stops wrecking our government.

For example, this week Senate Democrats held down the floor for 30 hours – the maximum time allowed under Senate rules – to delay the vote on Russell Vought, Trump’s nominee to run the Office of Management and Budget. I went to the Senate floor as part of this effort to make the case against Vought, who is a leading architect of Project 2025. At his confirmation hearing, I asked Vought if he’d follow the law—and he refused to say yes. That should be no surprise; he broke the law the last time he held that position.

Right now, I’m hearing from thousands of Marylanders who have been personally affected by Trump’s actions. Firefighters and small business owners who fear that federal resources will be ripped out from under them. Federal workers who fear being forced out of their jobs. Families terrified of losing their health care. I’m committed to fighting back for Marylanders each and every day. Again, if you are being harmed by Trump’s actions, you can share your story with me by clicking here.

Trump and Musk are engaged in an illegal power grab, trying to accomplish through executive orders and other means what can only be legally achieved through congressional action. They want us to believe they are more powerful than they really are. They want us to think we can’t do anything about it. But it isn’t true. Together, we can and will keep fighting back.

-Chris Van Hollen

[chaotic-orphan]

intoxicating fear <33

The next IF update is at least 3 weeks away :(

(As I now try to update a fic a week, usually Saturdays)

The next updates will be:

Semantics,

The Stranger,

Delirious Villain x hero caretaker,

THEN Intoxicating Fear,

and then A benignant Mischief

And probably Vendetta again(😍😍😍)

****Uh-oh, IF trauma dump incoming****

I love Intoxicating Fear, I do, but it is so hard to write?? I am bad at endings, the third act writing, it is so difficult and a lot of brain power goes into actually writing it— so that’s why updates are so sporadic for IF— even though I know it’s most people’s favourite series.

Half of me wants to write Intoxicating Fear all out and just get it done, and maybe I will, but the other half wants so bad to update all my other more “fun” and less heavy fics, if that makes sense??? It makes sense to me, I just kind of dread writing IF because it never feels satisfying or good enough and it makes me doubt my writing abilities

I also like writing for the fics that are less popular too, because I know some people adore them and— like A benignant mischief, is so different from anything else on this blog, like fantasy whump — and I love how exciting and fresh it is to try and worldbuild — but BECAUSE of my many other current WIPS [which is all my fault yes] I haven’t touched that series in months, need to dust off the cobwebs and I don’t think it’s fair, cause I love my elf boys and my king and knight…

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! oh my goodness. i am SO sorry i didn’t say anything earlier. i did read everything a couple days ago, and i Have been chewing on it, rotating it in my mind, etc etc…..and the graphic has been my phone lockscreen since i first read it!!!!!

frankly i am obsessed and have also been a little frazzled this month lol. saw your post late because of the general whirlwind that is december and then couldn’t quite get my thoughts into sufficient words n got worried “oh no would it be weird to say something now…..” which is incredibly silly in retrospect, so sorry for that. 

i’m relatively new to hockey fandom and the Narratives don’t always quite click for me (yet, at least :)) because i don’t know all of the lore for a lot of the popular pairings haha, so it means a lot that you’ve taken time out of your day to break things down for me and share your own thoughts <3 tysm. again, super sorry for the delayed response. i’m very sorry if you felt as though you’d wasted your time or something along those lines :’) just wanted to let you know that i really appreciate you and the time it took you to get everything down and make the graphic!!!! and like i can’t overstate how much your tags both over here and on your other blog have helped me to Get It since the start of this season, so thank you.

but now the house is quiet, the in-laws are gone, and no new work stuff until january :) so i can finally get some stuff down. every point you brought up hits in it own way but gosh you are very incredibly right the mcstrome of it all…..that’s sort of the lens i’ve been listening to the song through since you mentioned it.

the golden boy and the “draft bust” and the ever present notion of “isn’t it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?”.  like idk looking back on a bestfriendship from when you were a teenager that was Super intense and the lines were blurred and maybe realizing (if you hadn’t had the words or the “guts” or awareness or wtv to put a name to it at that point in your life) that y’all were a smidge more than just friends. 

best friends forever until you just aren’t! growing up and growing apart. it’s just the way things go but it can and will ache for a damn long time! you think you’re over it until their birthday or the holidays roll around and you wonder in a distant sort of way who they’re spending it with. what you would’ve hypothetically gotten them as a present if you still spoke. what do they even like nowadays, anyway?

maybe having the friendship end subtly. going from playing and traveling together and living in one another’s pockets to 2,080 miles of distance? (i may have my timeline/details confused here so sorry in advance) texting as much as you can at first but he’s a phenom he’s mcjesus he’s the next in line he’s expected to win the cup with his new team and end the drought for Canada. and they have him now but he was yours first, wasn’t he? but it’s fine. because you’re busy too. you’re captaining the team now. you’re gonna get the memorial cup that he couldn’t. it’s fine. you’re fine. you don’t even have time to worry about it anyway. 

one conversation a week turns to one a month turns to once in a blue moon turns to stale words until it goes cold. these days you can’t quite seem to remember who ended things, but does it really matter all that much now?

or maybe it doesn’t end like that at all. maybe it ends in a flurry of angry words and digs in some or other of the endless hotel rooms you’ve shared together over the years. who knows!

and that’s not even getting into the rest of the 2015 draft class. or the ld19 of it all! ooh hoo hoo. you grew up with him but he’s not your waiting room. he grew up with you but he’ll grow “old” (end his career) with someone else. and isn’t that just something! 

i don’t think it’s totally them, but sort of the sentiment of “I hope you get everything you ever wanted and I hope I never hear a word about it.” I want one ticket off of your carousel!!!! merry christmas, please don’t call!!!!!!!

dylan being sent up and down and traded around until finally landing in washington, a place where he is clearly at home and LOVED for the guy and player he is!!!!!!!! watching a game and seeing all the strome jerseys in the crowd……..wagh.

all that said. some other songs that are mcstrome to me in various ways: hot & heavy by lucy dacus (lol kinda the whole song). before the world was big by girlpool (“i just miss how it felt standing next to you wearing matching [jerseys? sweaters?] before the world was big”). happiness by Taylor swift (“i guess it’s the price i pay for seven years in heaven”), cut your bangs by radiator hospital (maybe? possibly? unsure. i like the whole dog thing there). i’m so glad i feel this way about you by insignificant other (!!!!!). there are so many THEM lyrics in there……..waough.

anyway. other things off the top of my head: 2015 connor specifically saying something like “hey let’s wait a minute so we can see this” to stand by the stage when dylan was getting drafted after him. MAN. you reminded me of the fact that they couldn’t even make eye contact at the handshake line!!!!!!!!! they didn’t go to each other’s weddings!!!!!!!!!! (do you think once upon a time they ever thought they’d being each other’s best man?). just a couple months ago dylan liking the tweet of connor getting that goal during the playoffs!!!!!!!! makes you wonder if he texted him………..

lol this was all over the place and i was probably wrong on some things and there’s SO much more that someone else could say way more eloquently, but i digress. i dunno everything about them is so nuts to me!!!!! needless to say i will be incredibly sat for the game january 21 🙂‍↕️

thank you again for your time :) hope you have a good one and a happy rest of the holiday season! <3333333

what a lovely message to receive 🥰😭🥹 i had to break it up into chunks because i couldn't sit down to read all of it at once without just. bouncing right back up and shrieking. i am also at heart terribly shy so i understand the struggle but it is never too late to say something <3 you are always welcome here

first!!! i love sharing!! i think most of hockey tumblr loves to see people finding out the Lore for the first time and the wonderful thing about hockey is that. it keeps going on. so there's years and years and generations and generations and always something new to learn about. i've learned to just not be afraid to ask!!! between different teams and players i'm always discovering new narratives (learning about the sharks old man yaoi rn... cbj rarepairs...)

no... to my heart's despair... you have the timeline right. i think in the best most tragic sense there's a mcstrome narrative where it is truly that nothing went wrong. the love was there. we couldn't do enough to save it because we didn't see it slipping away. i didn't notice when you didn't call until you never did. i don't know you now but i still remember when i did, do you?

HE'S NOT YOUR WAITING ROOM?? passing out. i do see "i hope you get everything you ever wanted and i hope i never hear a word about it" as them because!! they didn't go to each other's weddings!!! i don't wish you harm but i'm not going to put myself through that!! i hope you're happy and i'm never going to look on purpose.

i love dylan strome so much and the best part is that they all love him so much too. he wore a cool vintage ovechkin jacket!! and got slapped in the face with a tortilla!! he loves to gently rag on the rookies!! it just takes some time, everything'll be just fine. you're only on the middle of the ride.

OKAY WHEN I READ THIS PART I SCREAMED BECAUSE I DO HAVE A MCSTROME PLAYLIST AND!!!! HOT & HEAVY BY LUCY DACUS IS IN FACT ON IT!!! SO IS CUT YOUR BANGS (BUT BY GIRLPOOL SO DOUBLE JINX)!!!! i have dorothea by taylor swift on there but i don't know happiness so i'll have to give all the other songs a listen. mostly i just shrieked because i was like NO YOU GOT THE VIBES EXACTLY

🧠〰️🧠 truly the mind meld happening here. the handshake line. the mutual wedding non-invitations. i won't block your number or your name on twitter i just hope i don't see it come up on screen!! i do think that we got confirmation the last time they played each other that dylan did text him to say congrats on a milestone but i would have to check the archives

p.s. i think you said it perfectly eloquently :) what matters is that you said it at all and i was delighted to read it 💕

[pilonciillo]

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[mggslover]

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

[babyleostuff]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff, established relationship, down bad wonwoo (he’s a certified simp) 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.6k

⦗💌 ⦘ though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: guys if i play dress to impress does it mean im finally a gamer?

wonwoo was having a stroke. 

months ago, when you first started going out, he of course had to mention his love for gaming and computers, no matter how lame it made him - he figured if it bothered you then you simply weren’t fit for him. but, thankfully, you didn’t find it unappealing whatsoever, you even asked him questions about games and whatnot, sounding genuinely interested. 

and he wouldn’t lie - it’d be cool if you were a gamer as well, but… 

“no, it’s not for me,” you said when he asked if you played. “i don’t really get the hype, and to be honest i just suck really bad.” 

…but wonwoo understood that you didn’t have to share his every passion, besides - you had your hobbies, he had his, and that was perfectly fine. he was more than happy to indulge in activities that you enjoyed and getting to know you even better through them. 

during the course of your relationship you still didn’t show any interest in his games. well, maybe except for when you wanted cuddles, then you suddenly took a great interest in what was happening on his computer, but wonwoo didn’t mind. it was cute how you tried to keep up with the game though you had no idea what it was about, especially when you were sleepy.  

sometimes, though, you felt bad that you didn’t share his passion, that you didn’t know about all of the new updates, and gaming terms, or what the different keys on the keyboard were responsible for, but wonwoo was always quick to shut down those silly thoughts of yours. “i don’t mind, honey,” he always said and kissed your cheek. “i really don’t”. 

so it was safe to say that he had never expected to hear, "i'm a gamer now, baby. i play games," with a proud smile on your lips. 

wonwoo’s day had been long and hard, his muscles were aching from the hours spent on dancing and moving around the stage, and his head was begging for a moment of silence from all the yelling and yapping of his members. 

but that, that just woke him up like no amount of coffees or red bulls could. 

“huh?” he managed to say in utter confusion. 

he didn’t like how you were smiling. there was something sinister about it. 

“there’s this game everyone is playing now. i saw some videos on tik tok,” you had to stifle a giggle seeing your boyfriend’s expression upon the mention of the app he considered cursed, “and it looked fun. so… i’ve been playing it ever since you left for work.” 

well, maybe you did find it on tik tok, but a game was still a game, so wonwoo figured he should count that as a win. 

“let me show you,” you declared and took his hand with an excited grin, before he could say anything else, let alone ask you what kind of game you were talking about. 

you quickly pulled him into his bedroom, totally dismissing mingyu’s “hello”, and made him sit on his gaming chair. 

“i know you don’t like it when people touch your computer-,”.

“you can use it, honey, i don’t mind,” he cut you off and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. as ecstatic as wonwoo was about your breakthrough in gaming, he could wait to go to bed and finally get his well deserved cuddles from you. 

“okay okay,” you said and unintendedly ran your fingers through his hair. “so here it is,” you pointed at the screen behind him. 

wonwoo had no idea what game could have finally caught your attention. even the adorable characters from animal crossing weren’t cute enough for you to spend more than five minutes on the game, but what he saw on his computer...

"what, uh," he gulped. "what is that?"

“dress to impress!” 

well, it certainly did not impress wonwoo. 

“it’s like a dressing up game,” you added, when your boyfriend didn’t say anything. “here.” 

you rolled him a bit away from the desk so you could take your designated place on his lap, and disconnected the headphones from the computer, which made everything so much worse. the music that was playing in the background had to be one of the worst sounds he had ever heard. 

“look,” you pointed at the timer at the top of the screen. “the game is starting.” 

he could feel how you were buzzing with excitement, clapping your hands in tiny, waiting for the time to run out. 

“okay, see? here’s the theme,” wonwoo nodded sceptically, but nonetheless tightened his grip on your waist. 

album cover. 

then the screen changed to what looked like a large walk-in closet the size of his and mingyu's apartment. a bunch of other characters were running around, and the god awful music was still playing, and you started to run around as well, and, “oh my god, what was going on?”. 

“who should i dress up as?” you bit your nail, clearly very focused. wonwoo took a peek at your furrowed brows, and small pout and for a second he drowned out the annoying sound coming from his computer, just to focus on your adorable expression.  

“i can do you!” you said, and turned around to quickly place a kiss on his cheek. “from the “face the sun” concept photos. technically it’s not an album cover, but… no one here is ever on theme anyway”.  

wonwoo could only watch as you slowly changed your outfit into something that was supposed to resemble one of his concept photos, only in a more cutified version, because as you said, "you're a babygirl". with the minutes ticking by, he couldn’t help but smile at you being so focused on putting the whole outfit together. 

"okay, it's done," you said, leaning back so you were resting against wonwoo's chest. "now it's show time."

one by one, the characters walked the carpet, presenting their… whatever their outfits were. 

“ugh, this fit sucks ass,” you groaned, and nuzzled your head into his shoulder. “wait til one of them hits the twenty eight pose,” you said, and by the tone of your voice wonwoo did not want to see that. 

“why are you giving everyone one star?” he asked, confused. “that one wasn’t that bad,” he pointed at the character that dressed up as ariana’s dangerous woman. 

“you never give anyone more than one star,” you stated as a matter of fact. “oh, look,” you squealed. “it’s me.” 

indeed it was you, and for what it was worth - your outfit looked the best in wonwoo’s opinion. but then again you were best in everything to him, so his opinion didn’t count. and then the screen turned black again. 

the winners are… 

“now we’ll see who placed on the podium,” you explained, and grabbed his hand that was still resting on your waist. 

wonwoo nodded and put his chin on your shoulder. “i’m sure you’re going to be first, honey.” 

“huh,” you huffed. “i wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

and yeah, you were right. in the first place there was a character that wasn’t dressed up at all, in the second someone with the vip sign dressed as if they were going to the circus, and in the third there was a very creepy character of a man.

you clicked your tongue annoyed. “told you.” 

well, that was an experience wonwoo had never thought he’d have the, uh, pleasure to go through. 

“so,” you got up, and just when wonwoo was about to whine about the lack of your warmth, you straddled his lap. “what do you think?” you cupped his cheeks and smiled at him brightly. 

he wasn’t sure he was thinking at all, at this point. 

the annoying music? unbearable. the clearly not on theme outfits? hideous. the weird poses that freaked him out? he was sure he’d get nightmares from them. 

wonwoo must’ve been thinking too long about his answer so as not to hurt your feelings, because the smile slowly started to disappear from your face. "you think it's weird, right?" you asked and looked down.

"what? no, it's not that, it's-,".

"sweetie, i understand," you laughed quietly. "it's a game for kids, and a little cheesy at that but-,".

"no no," wonwoo quickly said and grabbed your face in his hands so he could lift your head. "i just didn't expect this. you always said you didn't like to game and i didn't know what to expect."

"yeah, but still-,".

"oh could you be quiet for a second?" he smiled when he saw the corners of your lips lift up. "i didn't mean to make you feel bad and i'm sorry if it did.” 

yeah, the game might not have been his style, and he would never have played it himself, but you liked it. and that was all he cared about. he had never seen you smile like that when he was gaming - your eyes were practically heart shaped when you were dressing up your character, and if this wasn't the most adorable thing ever he didn't know what it was. 

if it made you happy, then it made him happy too.

"you have no idea how glad you found a game you like," he ran his thumbs over your cheeks. "and you know what? if i played myself i'd definitely give your outfit five stars."

you giggled, and wrapped your hand around one of his wrists. "thank you, wonwoo."

"of course," he muttered and pecked your forhead. "now tell me, is there a way we could play it at the same time?"

"wonwoo, you don't have to-,"

"but i want to," he said.

for a moment you just looked at him with a raised brow, as if you were trying to figure out if he was really telling the truth. and he really was. wonwoo would survive any horrible outfit and that annoying music just to see you so excited and happy again.

"are you sure?"

he quickly nodded.

"okay, then let me get my computer."

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii @iamawkwardandshy @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh

[hwallazia]

SWEET, SWEET REVENGE – 최산

⋆ synopsis. you give san a taste of his own medicine, taking the lead and setting the tone yourself.

pairing. boyfriend! san & fem! reader.

wc. 0,9k

warnings. sub! san & mean-ish dom! reader, suggestive language ofc, nipple sucking/play, cowgirl position (riding), petnames (love, good boy, sannie & more), dacryphilia?, implied edging, creampie, teasing, praise, dirty talk, slight overstimulation, so much whining, just a normal scenario of a desperate sannie <3

nic’s notes ⋆ three san fics in a row—sorry not sorry tho! he’s the one who posted that slutty pic & i just couldn’t resist— oh, slight update, i’m currently working on a hongjoong ask i recently got, so look forward to it <3

okay but imagine riding san so fucking harshly that you have him whining and panting for air underneath you. 

he’s the prettiest babbling mess and his desperation’s only growing stronger with each passing second, indecisive hands roaming all over your naked, bouncing body. the pleasure is so great that he can no longer feel his fingertips, so his hands surrender and fall helplessly to the messy sheets.

tears decorate his frowned expression, and sweat streams down the sides of his face as messy locks of hair stick to his glistening forehead. he stopped breathing through his nose some time ago, the exhaustion so overwhelming that he can only draw breath through parted lips. occasionally, his wet tongue flicks over the rim of his lips, moisturizing them slightly.

“y-yn, love— mgh!” your warm walls clench around his length purposely, stealing the words from his mouth; a proud smirk appears on your lips at the delightful sound. the clash of his hips with the wet flesh of your ass deafens him. “please.. slow down a b-bit!” his words grow in pitch, a squeaky tone replacing his baritone. 

“don’t wanna.” you spit out, your tone drowning in nonchalance. “just shut up and take it, that’s what you always say to me, right?”

he sobs, his voice cracking. “b-but—“

“no buts, sannie.” your hand flies towards his sweaty cheekbone, your reassuring thumb providing sweet ministrations. a lovely, yet devilish smile curves your lips up. “take it like a good boy.”

san whines and curses under his breath, his head rocking backward as precious tears escape from the corner of his half-lidded eyes. his frown deepens as the delicious, purple veins of his neck pulsate strongly; his lids almost falling shut. he babbles something you can’t quite understand. “what d’ya say, baby?”

he bats his wet eyelashes as his pleading eyes peer into yours, almost like a silent imploring. “this ‘s torture” he rambles, hiccuping a tad bit in mid-sentence. 

“oh really?” you stop your movements before pushing—more like forcing your body upwards, easing san’s hardened cock from the warm embrace of your walls. his length immediately bobs up and slaps against his chiseled abs, throbbing helplessly. the soft plea that escapes his lips penetrates your core almost violently. “‘cause it seems to me that you’re..” your index ghosts over his velvety, leaking tip, the strong jolt of san’s hips almost making you lose your balance. “enjoying this. maybe a bit too much.” 

“mhn! baby—babybabybaby” he pathetically cries out—words falling off his lips like a mantra, failing completely at trying to keep his shuddering bottom lip trapped between his perfect row of white teeth. “please just go slower, you’re g-gonna make me—hmph!”

san’s words get caught inside his throat the moment you slam your hips down in a swift motion, more tears pooling in his eyes. his lower body shifts relentlessly, almost as if he’s trying to escape from the overwhelming stimulation. a sinister chuckle rumbles through your chest before you slap his thigh harshly. “stop running and take it like i know you can.”

and that stirs something deep within him, a soft stroke to his submissive facet. you know he can take it, so there’s no excuse, no reason behind all that whiny and pathetic behavior of his. 

sharply contoured arms wrap around your bouncing figure, fingers clutching your stuttering hips, ‘cause you’re no different from him. you’re close to the edge as well, but you can’t afford to let the mask slip. 

exasperated sighs and soft cries pour out of san’s swollen lips, his phalanges clinging to your body for dear life. he can’t bring himself to stare down to where your bodies connect, ‘cause he’d cum right then and there. instead, he buries his face in your breasts, spitting and attaching his warm tongue to your perky nipples.

you slow down the pace a tad bit, so he can comfortably suck on your tits. how considerate of you. “fuuuck, that’s a good boy.” you coo at him, stroking his hair lovingly. in response, san’s cheek nuzzles even deeper into the soft flesh of your chest, humming delightfully as the petname strikes a spark into his limbs. 

now, you can’t bring yourself just to be mean to him and deny him another release. your soothing hand travels from his nape to his cheekbone. you lift his head before speaking. “y’ wanna cum, pretty boy?”

san writhes beneath you, wiggling his hips like a dog. “yesyesyes” he gulps dryly. a painful cough follows his pleas. “yes please—i’ll do whatever.” he rasps with a blissed-out expression decorating his beautiful face.

“then let go, angel.” 

with shaky breaths, he meets your thrusts by lifting his hips powerfully. the ambition to finally surrender and let go clouds his senses, as his back arches beautifully. his jaw drops, his limbs go numb and his cheeks hollow when he bursts inside you, white shoots of cum painting your insides white. you cum not long after, your convulsing walls strangle his poor softened girth; san let out whiny and shuddering whimpers in response. “f-fuck baby stop—stop please, ‘s too much.”

you stare down at his doe-eyes as your malicious mind schemes one final tease. you pinch his hardened nipple as you simultaneously clamp down his cock. san’s body jolts upward while you coax one final, delicious moan from him.

he juts his bottom lip, sulking. “why’re you so mean.”

you kiss his irresistible pouty lips, your soft chuckle soothing san’s chest. “you love it.”

he sighs as he takes in the scene, helplessly in love with you on top of him. “guilty as charged i guess.”

| masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 8: The Thing About Ghost

Summary: You should have expected something bad would happen. You just didn't expect this. Perhaps something good could come of it after all.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, slight Gaz x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, nightmares, violence, medical stuff

A/N: I started this chapter this morning. It just came spilling forth and thus you're getting a bonus update this week. I'm honestly so glad to have this one done. Now I can finally say something more than "you'll see" when you ask about Ghost.

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You reach a hand out from under the mountain of blankets, fumbling blindly across your nightstand until you reach your vibrating phone. You pull it under the blankets, blinking blearily at the name on the screen. 

Kyle. 

“Hello?” You mumble sleepily, your eyes already drooping again. 

“Oh, so you can hear your phone vibrating but not me knocking at your door for fifteen minutes?” 

You let out a quiet groan, burrowing back under the covers. “Comfy.” 

“I’m sure you are, but it’s breakfast time, love.” 

You let out a quiet groan, still not moving. “Not hungry.” 

“You need to eat, love. You’ll be grumpy all morning if you don’t.” 

He’s right. If you skip breakfast, you’ll get snippy and hangry. Yet, the comfort of your bed is calling, threatening to lull you back to sleep again. 

“Don’t go falling asleep on me again.”

You startle back awake, groaning. “I wasn’t.” 

“Come on, love. I don’t want to have to get Soap to kick in your door.” 

You let out a loud, dramatic groan before grumbling acquiescence. You slide out from under your covers until you’re sitting on the floor, rubbing your eyes. You don’t bother hanging up as you set your phone on the nightstand before crawling over to the door, just close enough that you can reach up and unlock it. 

You sit back on the floor, hair mussed and still in your pajamas. The door slowly swings open, Gaz leaning against the doorframe. He smiles softly down at you as you yawn, blinking up at him sleepily. 

“That’s cute, but if we don’t get to breakfast, Price might send the cavalry searching.” He says. 

You grumble, pushing yourself up to stand before you grab a sweatshirt and shoes, running your fingers through your hair to make it at least semi-presentable. 

You lean against Gaz as you walk to the mess, resting your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. It’s quieter in the mess than normal, Gaz leading you through the line to get food, making your tray for you before you shuffle over to the table where the others are. You sit down next to Price, letting out a yawn as you stare sleepily down at your tray. 

“Was starting tae get worried about ye.” Soap grins at you. 

“Yeah, heard her phone vibrating but not me knocking for fifteen minutes.” Gaz says, taking the seat next to you. 

“I was comfy.” You shrug, picking up your fork. 

“Guess I don’t have to bother asking how you slept.” Price says, grinning fondly down at you. 

“Like a rock.” You say, before taking a bite of sausage. 

“Good.” He says, almost beaming with pride that your little shopping spree yesterday worked, and that the added comfort in your room helped. 

Your face warms under his gaze, practically able to feel him preening with pride. It makes something twist in your stomach, knowing that you made him feel that way. 

The moment is broken as Ghost sighs, standing from the table to dump his tray and leave the mess. 

Soap shakes his head as you watch him go, a frown pulling at your brows. “Don’ mind him. He could do with some soft blankets and more pillows of his own.” 

The image of Ghost curled up with fluffy blankets and a stuffed strawberry of his own has you laughing loudly, not even bothered by the looks you get from the tables around you. 

You lounge against Gaz’s chest, his arm wrapped around your chest. Your back vibrates every so often as he chuckles at something that happens on the TV. You’re focused on your book, content with a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

“Don’ you two look cozy,” Soap says entering the rec room. “Don’ mind me.” He kneels on the couch next to your feet before flattening himself out between your legs until his head lands in your lap. 

Your cheeks warm as he sighs out a breath, making himself comfortable. You set your book aside, electing to run your fingers through his mohawk. You wonder if you can put him to sleep that way like you almost achieved with Gaz. He lets out a content hum as your nails scratch at his scalp, running your fingers over the short cropped sides of his head. 

You let yourself relax further against Gaz, absentmindedly massaging Soap’s scalp. Your gaze is on the TV but you’re not really watching, too caught up in the bliss of the moment to really care. 

The moment is ruined as Soap’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He lets out a groan, shuffling around to fish it out, lifting his head to stare at the screen. 

“Have to take this.” He murmurs, pushing himself up off of your lap.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips before leaning over your shoulder, kissing Gaz. Your eyes widen as he leaves the room, your heart starting to race. Of course they kiss each other. It’s probably the most natural thing in the world to them. You’ve just never seen it. 

Much less be stuck in the middle of it. 

The images begin to flood your mind, your face getting warmer and warmer. The mental imagine of being sandwiched between them while they kiss over your shoulder, hands everywhere, skin against skin. 

“Enjoyed that, did you?” Gaz’s voice is husky in your ear, his lips brushing the delicate skin. 

Of course he can smell the hike of sweetness in your scent. His hand drops from where it had been wrapped across your chest, his hand trailing down until it rests against your stomach. His lips press against the sensitive skin beneath your ear, tongue darting out to taste. 

“Soon.” He murmurs, before leaning back, resting against the couch once more. 

Your face is burning hot, heart thumping in your chest. A shiver runs down your spine at the idea, your body relaxing further back against Gaz’s, your stomach fluttering as the warmth of his hand seeps through your shirt. 

You’re ready when he knocks, standing in front of your door again. You open it before he’s finished knocking, his hand falling back to his side. He stares at you for a breath before he turns on his heel, making his way from the barracks. 

You scramble after him as usual, following him into the gym and into the private room. You follow his lead of removing your shoes and jacket, falling into what’s become a routine for the two of you. 

“We’ll work on combos again.” He says, wrapping your hands for you, before his own. 

You go back through what you had done last time, all the combos you’d learned. Well, he told you. You’ve forgotten most of them after the exhaustion and a couple days off. You can tell he’s agitated already as he walks you through the combos, correcting your punches and stance. 

“Move your feet when you punch.” He says, kicking your back leg out from under you, dropping you onto your knee. “Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.” 

“You’re going to hurt me doing shit like that.” You murmur, fixing your stance again. 

He grabs punch mitts, moving to stand in front of you. He calls out numbers, working through combos and punches. You miss a lot, still trying to memorize which punch belongs to which number and which order to swing your fists in. Part of you wants to drive your fist straight up the middle and into his face. 

A sudden hit to your shoulder sends you sprawling to the mat. You lay there for a second before looking up at him in shock.

“What was that?” You say, getting back to your feet. 

“Dodge or block, just like I taught you.” He says, swinging at you again with the mitt, forcing you back a step. “Your opponent won’t be standing still. You have to know how to throw punches and avoid the ones coming at you.” 

You huff out a breath, trying to stay aware and throw the right punch. You don’t manage to block or dodge every one, your shoulders getting sore as he hits you. He’s not pulling his punches by much, and you can imagine the bruises you’ll sport later. You’re getting tired fast, the combination of the physical effort and the brain power growing to be too much at this intensity so soon. 

A solid hit to the center of your chest as you sprawling out on the mat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a horrible wheezing sound. For a moment you think he might have actually injured you, fear in your eyes as he looms over you. 

“Get up.” He says, shoulders squared like he’s the one in a fight. 

“Give me a second.” You say, still trying to catch your breath. “I need a break.” 

“There are no breaks in a fight.” He says. 

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe I should just give up and die if I ever get in a fight.” You snap. 

Something flashes through his gaze, the mitts hitting the floor with a thud. He grabs the front of your tank top, lifting you to your feet. He holds you in front of him, leaning down until you’re eye to eye. 

“You think it’s that easy to die? When the time comes you can just lay down and let it happen?” He growls, emotions flickering like flames in his eyes. 

“If this is what it’s going to take to live, then yeah.” You say, not backing down despite the prickling feeling at the back of your neck. 

“You have no idea what it’s like, when death is looming over you. The fear, the regret, the overwhelming push to fight to survive.” He’s close enough that if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you could have felt his breath on your face. 

“I don’t know because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter, I’m not trained like you. When I asked you to teach me to defend myself, this is not what I meant.” You say, shoving against his chest. 

It takes him by surprise enough that he stumbles back a step. He catches himself easily, hands closing into fists at his sides. He’s ready to fight, you can see it. You’ve unlocked the alpha, angered the beast within him. 

His scent bowls over you, sending you scrambling back out of instinct. The prickling at the back of your neck intensifies and you try to clear your head, preparing you for this fight. You don’t stand a chance, you know that. Going off instinct alone, he could overpower you easily. 

Despite everything in your brain telling you to run away, you do the opposite, racing towards him. He catches you before you can hit him, your feet leaving the ground as he slams you into the mat. You kick and claw at him, catching him in the ribs but it doesn’t even seem to phase him. 

“What was your plan?” He growls, pressing harder against your chest as he keeps you pinned. “Try to take me off my feet? I’m bigger and stronger than you. That’s never going to work.” 

“Then stop being such a dick!” You yell, landing a kick against his hip. “You’re just a bully. A big bully. You’re just like my dad!” 

Both of you freeze at your words, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. His hand closes around the neck of your tanktop and for half a moment you’re scared he might sink his hand in and pull your spine right out through your chest. Instead he releases you, pushing himself up with a growl and making for his shoes. 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he slips them on, grabbing his things before leaving out the door. 

You stare at the door wide eyed as it slams closed. You’re still laying there, chest heaving. You stare at it, half expecting it to open back up, for him to come back. He wouldn’t leave you alone, would he? He’s not supposed to. You’re supposed to have one of them with you at all times. 

You push yourself up onto shaky legs, slowly approaching the door, half expecting it to fly back open. Maybe he’s just standing right outside, maybe he’s just taking a breath and clearing his head. The handle is cold against your heated skin as you pull it open, sticking your head out. 

The hallway is empty. 

You quickly duck back inside, closing the door. He wouldn’t leave you. He wouldn’t leave you. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Maybe he just needed a moment to clear his head. Maybe he’s coming back. 

You sink onto the bench, trying to control your breathing as it starts to get heavy. You can feel that buzzing sensation in your head, your fingers and toes starting to go numb with panic. The one time you leave your phone behind, it’s the one time you need it. Maybe he’s coming back. 

You continue to sit there, waiting, fingers trembling as you put your shoes back on. Someone has to notice your absence eventually. Someone will notice you’re not in your room and you’re not answering your phone. Someone will come looking. 

Or is this a test? 

You’re panicking now, breaths coming in short gasps. You can’t just walk out of here using the front door. There’s alphas and betas crawling all over the gym and there could be a hundred between you and the barracks now. Someone will stop you. Someone will make a scene. 

You can’t reach the windows. Even then, they don’t open and it would be a straight drop to the ground on the other side. You can’t go out the front, but there’s an emergency exit just a few feet down the hallway the other direction. The medical center is the closest building to the gym. Even if Dr. Keller isn’t in her office this early, any of them would be the most likely to help you, to alert Price to your abandoned state. 

You have to get out of the gym. Your scent will reach the others in the building eventually, and someone will take notice. Someone will be bold enough to come after the lone omega. You’re panicking, your entire body trembling. Just out the door to the left and through the emergency exit. Then it’s just a few hundred yards to the medical center and then down the hall to Dr. Keller’s office. 

You can make it. You spent three months running with the CIA. Speed has always been your strength. Get out the door before anyone notices. You have to get out before someone notices and blocks your exit. 

Your mind goes blank as you throw open the door, feet slipping as you race around the corner and down to the emergency door. You don’t even feel the ache in your shoulder as you jam yourself against the door, not caring if it sets off an alarm as you shove your way out to the cool morning air. Your feet move without your brain needing to tell you as you sprint towards the medical building. There’s no one outside, no one milling in the area. No one sees you as you race through the doors, the automatic sliding doors almost catching you as you speed through them and down the hall. Your shoes squeak on the laminate floor, squealing as you slide to a stop in front of Dr. Keller’s office. 

You don’t even check if the light is on before you’re frantically knocking. Your breaths are coming in shallow gasps, black dots dancing in your vision as you fight to get air into your lungs. You need to be somewhere safe, you need somewhere safe before you pass out. You can’t pass out in the hallway. It’s not safe. 

You nearly fall as the door swings open, stumbling into the office. Dr. Keller says your name but you barely hear it, your legs giving out. She catches you before you fall, easing you into a chair. You sink into the plushness, shaking violently as you stare at her with wide, panicked eyes. 

“What is it?” She asks. “What happened?” 

“He...he left me!” You sob, your body starting to curl in on itself. “He...he just left me!” 

Dr. Keller’s voice sounds far away as she speaks, your vision starting to tunnel. You barely register the blanket being draped around your shoulders, the soft fabric tickling your cheeks. 

You don’t hear Dr. Keller on the phone, far too gone in your distress to hear the urgency in her normally calm and composed tone. 

Dr. Keller opens the door almost as soon as the knock sounds. Price is slightly out of breath, having reached the office faster than she had expected him to. 

“She’s in distress.” Dr. Keller explains as she lets Price into the office, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I need you to be clear headed.” She tells the alpha. “We can worry about why later, right now we need to get her calmed down, understood?” 

“Yes, Doctor” He nods, fighting the urge to recoil at the sharp bitter tang of omega distress heavy in the air. 

He’s angry, beyond angry but he knows he can’t let that take over right now. 

“You’ll need to hold her.” Dr. Keller says, approaching where you’re sitting on the chair. You’re hunched over, arms clutched to your chest as you gasp and wheeze, almost hyperventilating.  “It might be easiest on the floor.” 

It’s like moving a stone statue as he takes you into his arms, muscles tense and joints locked as your body attempts to protect itself. He sinks to the floor with you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you to support you.

“Slow deep breaths.” Dr. Keller pushes your head against his chest. “Get her to copy you. If her blood pressure gets too high, or she passes out we might risk losing her to her omega, and that will be dangerous for all of us.” 

“I know.” Price says as he puts a hand on your head, keeping you against his chest. “I’ve seen it happen.” He presses his cheek against the top of your head, taking slow, even breaths. “Come on, sweetheart. Alpha’s got you. Need you to breathe for me.” 

Dr. Keller slips a blood pressure monitor around your arm, fighting the stiffness of your limbs as she sticks a pulse monitor to your chest. Price continues to speak to you, trying to get you to relax.

Slowly as the minutes pass, your breathing begins to slow. Dr. Keller monitors your blood pressure and heart rate, watching it slowly begin to come down as the presence of your alpha soothes your distressing omega. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your arm gently. 

Your breathing slows, but your breaths are still heavy and shaky as you slowly begin to sink into Price’s hold, your muscles slowly relaxing from their tense state. You let out a high-pitched whine as the discomfort begins to set in, tears leaking from your eyes. 

“I know.” Dr. Keller says gently. “You’re doing so good.” 

You begin to shake uncontrollably again, Price tightening his hold around you. His hand moves to the back of your neck instinctively, gently massaging the tense muscles. 

“It’s just the adrenaline.” Dr. Keller explains, moving to the closet and pulling out a stuffed bear. She kneels back down, working your arms away from your chest just enough that she can slip the bear into your arms. “Squeeze that for me.” She says, pushing on your arms until you take over, squeezing the bear to your chest. 

You’re still crying as the shaking slowly begins to subside, another whine leaving your lips. You continue to squeeze the bear to your chest, brows pulling into a frown. 

“Don’ feel good.” You slur, taking a deep breath in. 

“I know, honey, I know.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your leg. “You did really good, coming down from that. Just keep breathing and relaxing for me.” 

You continue to follow Price’s breathing, trying to will your muscles to relax in your exhausted state. Price continues stroking the back of your neck, his heart thumping steadily beneath your ear. 

“One more squeeze on your arm and then I can take the monitor off.” Dr. Keller says, taking your blood pressure one more time. “It’s normal if she’s a bit achy and sore for a couple days.” She explains to Price. “She might be a bit disoriented later too. The best thing she can do is rest and someone should stay with her at all times just in case.” 

Price leans his chin against your head, fighting the anger building within him. Something happened to cause this, and he has an inkling as to what it was. He tightens his hold around you as you sink into him even more, the shaking starting to subside. 

“You don’t sedate for distress?” He asks as Dr. Keller removes the heart monitor and the blood pressure cuff from you. 

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “Sedation can make distress worse in some cases. It’s jarring and disorienting and in some cases the omega might wake up and continue distressing. It’s only useful in cases of an actual medical emergency, or if there’s no alpha to provide a sense of safety and the omega starts to take over. Then they become a danger to everyone around them and themselves.” 

“I know how devastating that can be.” He says, staring down at you. “The worst people in the world like to use omegas as shields and bait. Sometimes there’s no other way...they get caught in the middle of bullets flying and explosions. The scent of blood and fear around them.” He shakes his head. “Even if they survive that, even if you save them, it’s too much and you just lose them to the omega.” 

“It makes me sick.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “They’re human beings just like you and me and they get treated like chattel. They’re seen as nothing but property and valued only by what they can be used for. Omegas are incredible beings. In ancient cultures they were revered, worshiped. Some cultures believed they were closest to the gods, and some thought they were gods sent to earth to bless those that deserved it. How far humanity has fallen.” 

“You have a lot of respect for omegas.” Price says. 

“Respect, love, care. Someone in this world has to. That’s why I became a specialist.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Didn’t think I’d end up here, but if I can help even just one omega, that’s more than enough for me.” She pushes herself up to stand. “Let’s get her back to the barracks. She’ll be more comfortable in a familiar atmosphere.” 

Price pushes himself to stand, keeping you close to his chest. Dr. Keller locks her office behind her before following Price as he carries you from the medical center. 

“She needs to eat.” Dr. Keller says. “She won’t feel like it, but she needs the calories after that. She might be emotional and resistant for a bit, but once she’s fully awake she’ll be alright. Well...that might be a bad way to describe it. If anything happens, or she starts getting worse. Call me.” 

“I will.” Price tightens his grip for a moment, pushing down the anger. He can’t let it take over yet. He still has you to take care of. He still has his omega to look after. 

Dr. Keller opens the door to the barracks for him, watching him walk down the hallway for a moment before turning and leaving. 

Price opens your door, carrying you into your room. He lays you on your bed, making sure you’re comfortable before he steps back out the door. The scent of distress is heavy on him still, as is his building anger. 

“MacTavish! Garrick!” He shouts, both of the beta’s doors opening almost immediately. “Have either of you seen Lieutenant Riley this morning?” 

Johnny frowns, both of them approaching the obviously agitated alpha. “Naw, I havenae seen him all mornin’.” 

“I thought he was training this morning.” Kyle says, a frown pulling at his brows too. “Did something happen?” 

He steps back into your room, the two betas following. Kyle sucks in a breath as he stares at you laying there, seemingly peacefully but the quickly suffocating scent tells him otherwise. He moves to your side, sinking down on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“Wha’ happened?” Johnny asks, a subtle tremble to his voice. 

“There was an incident this morning.” Price says, digging into the very depths of his training to keep his head on straight. “Sent her into distress.” 

“That bastard.” Johnny growls. “When I find him-” 

“Easy.” Price says, putting a hand on the beta’s chest to stop him from his rampage. “You and I are going to get some food and then come back here. Garrick, you stay with our girl. If anything starts to go wrong, you call Dr. Keller first, then me. Then, I’ve got ghost hunting to do.” 

“Ye sure we’re alright, bein’ in her nest like this?” 

“It’s not much of a nest. Besides, our girl needs us.” 

“‘S cozy, that’s for sure.” 

“Could get used to it.” 

You have no control over the whine that’s pulled from your chest as you’re thrust into consciousness. You feel a bit like you’ve been hit by a truck, tossed from an airplane with no parachute, and like you just ran a marathon with no training, all at once. 

“Easy, love.” 

Hands smooth over your face, calluses rough on your burning skin. You feel hot, yet not warm enough at the same time. Your skin is prickling, needing freedom but to be held tighter than you already are. Someone is in front of you, their hand the one on your face. Someone else is behind you, wrapped around your back, arms keeping you held tightly against them. 

“Can ye open yer eyes for me, pretty girl?” 

Your eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. You don’t want to. You want to keep your eyes closed and sink back into oblivion where nothing hurts and you’re not confused. You let out another quiet whine before you force your eyes open, staring up at the blurry shape above you. 

“That’s it, lovely.” Soap says, his fingers still stroking your face. “That’s a good girl.” 

“Soap?” You whine, your voice cracking. 

He shushes you, tucking your face against his neck, letting you inhale his scent. “We've got ye, lamb.”

Another hand trails down your arm, gently squeezing. You're sore, even your breaths make your body ache. 

“You remember what happened, love?” Gaz says quietly, his hand the one gently stroking your arm. 

You inhale sharply, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Ghost...” You breathe, the images coming to your mind but the words are lost. “Left me.” 

“Aye.” Soap says, sounding hurt and disappointed. “He was being a right bastard and left ye in the gym alone. Ye ran for the med center. Found the doctor.” 

“I...” You take a shaky breath, remembering the panic, the feeling of getting further and further from your body. “I was distressing.”

Gaz hums, wrapping his arms around you. “You distressed, love. Dr. Keller got Price in there in time, worked you through it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself go limp between them. It makes sense why you feel so awful, why your head is swimming. “What time is it?”

“Just after lunch.” Gaz says. 

“Gave us hell tryin’ tae feed ye.” Soap says. “Half fightin’ us, half out of it.” 

“Ghost?” You ask, almost afraid to find out the answer. 

“Got quite the verbal lashing from Cap'n Price.” Soap says. “Was gone for an hour yellin’ at him.”

It doesn't feel like enough, but you won't admit that out loud. You lean back against Gaz, letting both of their scents wash over you. 

“How do you feel, love?” Gaz asks. 

“Hurts.” You murmur, wrapping an arm around Soap. 

“I know. I'm sorry you had to go through this.” Gaz says pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Just relax, love. We've got you.” 

You let your eyes slip closed again, relaxing between the two betas. You don't care that they're in your room, squished together in your bed with you. You need them and their support. 

You'd prefer having Price too, but you won’t dare say that out loud.

You fade in and out of sleep, letting them help you up a couple times as they move around, and move you around, helping you stretch to ease the ache in your joints and muscles. You wind up laying on Soap as Gaz goes to get dinner, his arms wrapped around your middle as you rest on his chest. 

“I am sorry about Simon.” He says quietly, lips brushing your forehead. 

“Don’t apologize for him.” You murmur. “It was partially my fault. I was egging him on.” 

“He shouldnae done tha’ though.” Soap says. “Leavin’ ye like that. ‘S dangerous, and not just for you.” 

“I did good. I got out without running into anyone.” You say, trying to reassure yourself before you lose it again. 

“You did perfectly.” A voice says, making you jump. 

Soap gently rubs your back as you blink up at Price. He’s standing in the doorway, holding two trays of food. You hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“Go on and eat in the mess, Johnny.” Price says, setting the trays on your desk. “I’ve got her for now.” 

Soap gently eases you off of him, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone with Price. He carries over a tray, setting it on your nightstand before kneeling down in front of you. He turns on your lamp, illuminating the room more than it was with your nightlight and the fading light outside. 

“How do you feel?” He asks, taking your hand in his. 

“Sore.” You say, squeezing his fingers. “But less than I was earlier. Moving around helped.” You sniffle, wiping the tear that escapes. “A bit weepy too.” 

Price smiles softly at you. “That’s expected. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” He cups your face. “You did the right thing, taking the back exit and going for Dr. Keller’s office.” 

“Was closer.” You murmur. “Less risk of running into someone.” 

Price nods. “I doubt anyone would have stopped you, but that is still a risk.” He grabs the tray from the nightstand. “Eat up. I know you don’t feel like it, but you need it.” 

It’s almost like he read your mind. He moves to your desk, sitting in the chair. The food looks less appetizing than usual, but you know he’s right. Omegas expend a lot of energy while in distress. You’ll feel better if you eat. From the sounds of it, Gaz and Soap had attempted to feed you while you were still out of it, though you’re not sure how successful they were. 

You eat mostly in silence, but you don’t mind. You don’t have the brain power to think enough for a conversation, and you’re more than happy to just bask in Price’s calming presence. 

Gaz and Soap return after dinner, Price taking his leave again. You’re sure he’s busy, especially after this incident, but you can’t help but feel the sting of it just a bit. He had helped you through your distress, calming you down. You want him to lay next to you, to hold the back of your neck and remind you that he’s here, that he’s got you. 

That he’ll never leave you like that. 

Instead you curl up between Soap and Gaz, letting the calming present of betas relax you back to sleep. 

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up. Soap is gone, but Gaz is still pressed against your back, breathing evenly. You grab one of the phones off the nightstand, glancing at the time. It’s just past one a.m. You’re feeling thirsty again, and like you need to stretch your legs. Gaz is coiled around you, and you’re not sure how to get out without waking him up. You don’t want to disturb him, and you want a second to breathe and clear your head without the influence of his scent. 

You carefully roll away enough to grab the strawberry pillow off the floor from where it likely rolled after Soap left. You slowly ease it between your bodies until he’s wrapped around the pillow, settling with a sigh. You let out a quiet breath, rising from the bed slowly and padding quietly to the door. Your eyes are on him as you unlock it, slipping out quickly. You leave it cracked open before sneaking down the hallway towards the rec room. 

It’s quiet in the barracks, almost eerily so as you slip into the empty room, heading for the fridge. You stand there, half debating on a beer instead of water. Perhaps a little alcohol might numb at least some of the ache in your joins, or at least clear your mind a bit. You hate the taste of beer, though, and Gaz would know immediately. 

You sigh, grabbing a water, the back of your neck prickling as you stand up. You close the fridge door, whirling around, a scream caught in your throat. 

“Are you going to scream?” Ghost’s voice rumbles from behind his mask. He’s standing just inside the rec room, blocking the doorway. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” You ask, flattening yourself against the fridge. 

“Why would I do that?” He has the gaul to sound almost confused. 

“You seemed pretty eager to this morning.” You say, clutching the water bottle to your chest. “You abandoned me.” 

“I didn’t. I was right behind you the whole time, until you went into the med center.” He explains, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” You snap, getting agitated by the alpha and how he’s treated you thus far. “You just up and left me by myself in a vulnerable place. How was I supposed to know you were still there? For all I knew you were halfway back to the barracks. Was I just supposed to blindly trust that you would be there, that you would follow me if I decided to brave walking past a bunch of worked up alphas? I can’t trust that. I can’t trust you like that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you haven’t given me a reason to!” You almost shout it, just managing to keep control over your volume so you don’t accidentally wake the others. “You don’t like me, you keep treating me like shit. Just going off of that, I wouldn’t put it past you to just up and leave me to fend for myself.” 

“I wouldn’t.” 

“But you did! You did today! You put me in danger! I distressed because of you! I haven’t distressed since-” You cut yourself off, deflating a bit at your near slip of words. You’re not sure you want to open that can of worms, allow for that kind of vulnerability with the alpha that had nearly killed you earlier. But, maybe you do need that kind of vulnerability. Maybe he needs it. “Since I was taken to the institute.” You finish, feeling yourself deflating a bit. 

Tears prick at your eyes, his own figure visibly deflating a bit. That scent is back, the one from a couple nights ago when you had run into him in a similar situation. You want out of here, you want back to the safety of doors around you, doors that could be opened and Ghost pulled from you easily if needed. 

“Move.” You say, bravely squaring up to the alpha blocking you in. 

He says your name like a warning, not budging an inch. 

“Move!” You shout, going for his middle with your shoulder, but he’s faster, catching you before you can hit him. 

“Calm down.” He growls, trying to hold your squirming form. 

One scream. One scream and the others would be on you. How quickly could Ghost act, though? How quickly could his hand close around your throat and squeeze, or maybe even twist? 

“Calm down!” He growls again, forcing you backwards. 

Your feet slip on the tile, sending you back onto your back. You wince at the jolt to your already sore body, the air leaving your lungs in a harsh gasp. Ghost sinks down to the floor next to the couch, leaning against the side of it like he can’t bear to hold himself up anymore. 

“It was a long time ago.” He starts, the tiredness evident in his voice. His eyes are on the floor in front of you, not even looking up as you push yourself up onto your elbows. “Back when I was a newly made Sergeant. My first deployment, first mission. We were hunting a man, real scum of the earth, chasing him through the jungle.” 

You almost want to stop him, unsure if he can even be telling you this, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. 

“Things got complicated when he swept through a village, picked up all the local omegas. He was using them as human shields. We cornered him in some run down shack. Him, his men, and the poor omegas. The commanding officer in charge of the mission started hostage negotiations, tried to get him to let the omegas go. He knew he’d lost, he’d never get out of there without being captured or killed.” Ghost shakes his head, letting out a heavy breath. “So he agreed. The commanding officer had to have known. We all should have known.” 

He goes silent, the quiet of the barracks and the world outside almost eerie. You’re sitting up now, almost holding your breath in anticipation. You’re not sure he’s ever spoken this much to you at once before, much less something that’s obviously so vulnerable, and potentially confidential. 

“He sent the omegas out in all directions, running straight at us. We were ordered to stay where we were. We couldn’t run out there, we couldn’t help them.” His hands close into fists, his scent souring. “They started firing at the omegas. There was one running straight at me. I still remember her, the look on her face. The fear in her eyes as she raced towards me.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I remember how the blood felt splattering on my face. The bullet shot right past my ear. She fell close enough I could have reached out and touched her. Clean shot right through the back of her head.” 

He shakes his head, finally looking at you. Tears have gathered in your eyes as you stare at him. His scent is sour, tinged with the tanginess that you had smelled a couple nights ago when he ran into you coming back from the rec room.

Fear. 

That scent is fear. 

“I still think about it. What if I had disobeyed orders? What if I had just reached out to help her? Would she have made it? Could we have brought at least one omega back to that village? Would the bullet have hit me instead?” He lets out a long breath. “I still have nightmares about it. See it clear as day, that look on her face seconds before her life ended.” 

You’re moving, crawling closer to him. He doesn’t move, not even a blink or a flinch as you get closer and closer until you’re in front of him, close enough to see the light blonde color of his lashes. He still won’t look at you, his gaze on the floor as you sit in front of him. 

“You saw me.” You say softly, not needing him to explain further. “Instead of some omega, it was me in your dream. You’re afraid. That’s why you treat me the way you do. You’re scared if you get close to me, if you allow me into the pack, allow me into this life, that something like that will happen to me. That’s why you were afraid that night, when I went to the rec room to grab water. You woke up from a nightmare about me.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to. You’re beginning to understand him now. One moment of vulnerability and the complex specter that is Ghost is beginning to become clearer and clearer to you. He’s beginning to take shape, forming out of the mists of confusion and aggression that have plagued you since your arrival in his life. 

“That doesn’t make what you did okay.” You say, breaking the eerie silence again. “It doesn’t make the way you treat me okay, but I guess...I guess I can understand why now. Why you’re so hard on me, why you resist my mere existence here. You don’t have to like me, I’d just like you to be nice to me a little bit. You’re never going to convince Soap not to pursue anything, so, you’re just going to have to get used to me being around.” 

The corners of his eyes crease. It’s a half a second of movement, but you manage to catch it. He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, eyes emotionless as they usually are when they look at you. 

“I still don’t forgive you for what you did.” You say, staring up at him. “And I don’t trust you,” You pull your knees up to your chest. “But I suppose I was also a bit at fault, saying those things to you.” 

“I deserved it.” He says. “I was being a dick.” 

Your brows raise as you stare at him. “Are you...apologizing?” 

“Don’t rub it in.” He says, the warning clear in his tone. 

“Well, I guess it’s a start.” You say. “I should probably get back to bed before Gaz notices I’m gone.” 

Ghost lets out a huff. “I’m surprised you escaped without him noticing.” 

You shrug, pushing yourself up to stand slowly. “He’s snuggling a stuffed strawberry right now, so...that probably says a lot about one of us and I’m not sure which is worse.” 

“Come on.” Ghost motions with his head. “Last thing we need is another panic at 2 am.” 

“Another panic?” You ask, dropping your voice to a whisper as you leave the rec room. 

Ghost chuckles. “You’ll have to ask Johnny about that one.” 

You stare at him for a moment as you stand in front of your cracked door. “Goodnight, Ghost.” 

He nods to you before you slip in, closing and locking the door. He stands there, listening to the bed shift as you crawl back into Kyle’s hold. He can picture the way the beta’s limbs coil around you like a snake. Would you lie facing him and cling to him like a koala? Or would you prefer facing away from him, letting him envelop you in a feeling of security and protection? 

Ghost shakes his head, inhaling the faint whiff of your scent still in the air before he turns, staring at his door for a moment before moving back down the hall, slipping into Johnny’s room instead. 

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[sugarushwriting]

cherry popper —

sunghoon x reader

getting your cherry popped by your enemy

mature content featured, read at your own discretion

note: i know i know i said a writing schedule but this is my issue — i just want you all to read what i have planned so bad! i’ll start the schedule soon, ignore my last updated post

“you are infuriating!” you screeched, stomping your foot to the ground like a child.

“no, you are!”

“for goodness sake, you both are infuriating!” your professor interrupted your arguing with park sunghoon.

your worst enemy since middle school. now both ready to graduate university soon, nothing has changed.

you and sunghoon turned to your professor with looks of disgust towards one another. your professor has had you both in her classes for 3 semesters as you both shared a major.

“i’ve dealt with you two for too long! always arguing before, after, and during my lectures! you two can’t even stop bickering long enough to enjoy this nice class trip!” the professor rambled.

“professor, i really was trying to enjoy this trip—,” the professor cut you off

“no you haven’t! any given moment you started an argument with mr. park, knowing he will argue back. you two leave me no choice, you are to stay here in your rooms at the hotel, my assistant will be staying on the floor if you two need anything. he’ll most likely try to find a bonding exercise for you two.”

“if we stay here, that means we miss the exhibits!” sunghoon exclaimed, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hurt, and anger towards you.

the professor shrugged. “hopefully it’ll teach you a lesson like i teach my children.” she scolded, waving her finger at both of you.

you and sunghoon stood in the hallway of the hotel dumbfounded that you would be missing the exhibit you both were so excited to view. three months you’ve been waiting for this trip!

you groaned in annoyance, “you just have to ruin everything, huh?”

sunghoon turned to you wide eyed, “me? you’re the one always starting shit between us two!”

“you could just ignore me.” you shrugged trying to place the blame all on him.

“ignore you? i’ve tried, and you never let it go. you keep pestering like an annoying little bug until i reply to you.”

your lip turned up, “listen here you little—,”

“finish that sentence and i’ll ask the hotel to make you clean toilets.” your professors graduate assistant snapped.

you and sunghoon turned around to face the young guy who couldn’t be more than 3 years older than you.

“faked being ill because my girlfriend happened to come down to the city to see me. haven’t seen her in four months as we live apart,” the assistant began explaining, “but now i have to babysit two annoying little young adults who can’t get along for nothing!”

“man, you don’t have to babysit us. we can care for ourselves.” sunghoon stated.

“and risk you two sneaking off?” the assistant shook his head.

you crossed your arms, “so what do you want us to do?”

“the hotel is low on staff in the kitchen. they just need help with dishwashing and putting together cutlery.”

“no way! i don’t want my fingers to turn into raisins!”

“that’s why gloves were invented, cherry.”

you narrowed your eyes, ready to stab sunghoon if you could, especially at the nickname he’s given you for the past year.

“you two, kitchen, now. you can go to your separate rooms afterwards. don’t snitch on me, help the kitchen out, and i’ll tell the professor you two got along well enough to be able to join in on the activities tomorrow.”

“deal.” both you and sunghoon agreed.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

it was all going well—decently well for you and sunghoon until you dropped a plate in the sink, causing the water to splash both you and him.

he splashed water back, so now you and him were banned from dishwashing and instead wrapping cutlery for future hotel guests.

about an hour later, you both were only half way done through the giant bucket of clean dishes.

“this is exhausting!” you sighed. “my neck is starting to hurt.”

“stop whining and just keep going.” sunghoon replied quietly.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?”

sunghoon dropped the fork and spoon he was holding. “mhm, i don’t know, maybe you? always starting arguments with me.”

“you’re the one who started it, park sunghoon.”

“when did i ever start? you are the one who started it back in middle school.”

“middle school? sunghoon, i never even talked to you in middle school until that day you said my hair bow was ugly.” you reminded him.

that’s when sunghoon became your enemy. maybe for a stupid reason, but as a young girl, you had tried a new hair style with a hair bow after your mom made you get a hair cut, that the salon butchered.

you were insecure about it for a while, but it only really unsettled you when sunghoon came up to you one day during lunch telling you that your ‘hair bow was ugly, and nothing can make your hair look pretty again.’

since then, you’ve always sought out to ruin park sunghoon. whether it was getting better grades, to become top of the class. becoming class president so he’d be class vice president.

or even childish things like a whoopie cushion, taking a picture of him picking his nose in private, and even starting arguments over small things.

but the biggest would have to be when you started dating his friend second to last year in high school, you two only ending the relationship a little over a year ago.

kang taehyun.

it was a sneaky move to date your enemy’s friend. but it worked in your favor as just your presence annoyed sunghoon. he started to dislike you even more then.

but it wasn’t like sunghoon and taehyun were best friends, they just happened to be in the same friend group.

sunghoon remembered the day he called your hair bow ugly. he actually didn’t think it was ugly, but he was upset about what he overheard you and your friends at the time saying about him.

then when sunghoon found out you were actually dating taehyun, he couldn’t believe it. he would tease you and only bring it up to taehyun the reasoning for you to date his friend was to annoy him.

sunghoon used to hate seeing you around all the time when he just wanted to be with his friends. he especially disliked whenever taehyun would be too handsy with you.

“i only called your hair bow ugly because you and your friends made fun of me.” sunghoon sighed deeply. his lips went into a thin straight line as he went back to his deep thinking, focused on wrapping the silverware.

you looked at him surprised and confused. “sunghoon, when did my friends and i ever make fun of you?”

sunghoon sighed once more, wanting to forget the whole incident, but knew now was probably a good, but very late time to confront you about it.

“i overheard you all laughing at the fact i was a figure skater at the time, and said something about me being feminine.”

you stood there, too much in shock. your brain racked old memories and conversations, trying to remember that exact time. as you stood and stared, sunghoon continue on with the kitchen chore.

then it hit you, and you slightly chuckled. “sunghoon, we weren’t laughing at you. we were admiring you. the fact you was a boy doing figure skating? we were so impressed! and the feminine thing was a compliment, i promise! i swear as young girls we were jealous because you had a nice body we were jealous of at the time.”

sunghoon snapped his head toward you, observing you for any chance of a lie. he saw none as you stood there and smirked.

“you really called my hair bow ugly, to upset me, because you misheard my conversation with my friends?”

sunghoon scoffed, “well i mean, as a young boy, it was hard enough being a figure skater. i was just, don’t know, very introverted and shy.”

which he still was most times.

“you aren’t introverted or shy around me, sunghoon.”

“because i can’t be. you drive me up the wall on my nerves.”

you laughed. sunghoon liked the sound. he always did.

then he asked, “did i really hurt your feelings by saying your bow was ugly?”

you nodded. “yes you did. that started a war.”

“a war between us that i think we can now end?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

after another hour, you all were close to finished when the kitchen staff let you go. rubbing your neck, you complained, excited to shower and just lay around for the rest of the night.

it was only 6 in the evening, and the exhibit went on until 9 pm, and you both were sure the professor and classmates would be off doing their own thing for the rest of the night as curfew wasn’t until 1 am.

“wanna watch a movie?” sunghoon asked, startling you. “i mean, there’s nothing else going on for us, and we could, maybe, keep each other entertained?”

you shrugged. “sure. just let me shower first. my room or yours?”

“mine. my friend and roommate, heeseung, snuck in some beer.”

you smiled. “perfect.”

half an hour later, you both were showered, in comfy clothes, and in sunghoon’s hotel room, sitting on the couch at the end of the beds watching a movie.

two drinks in, sunghoon was feeling bold. “why did you date taehyun?”

being caught off guard, you slowly turned your head, then tilted. “uh, why?”

“did you only date him because of me? to make me mad or jealous?”

“more to make you mad.” you teased with a wink.

“well congrats, you made me both mad and jealous by dating my friend.” sunghoon snickered, sipping his bottle of beer. he was no where near drunk or even tipsy. just a bit of extra courage running through his veins.

it was him watching you out of the side of his eye that got him this way. your laugh, your smile, the smell of you, so intoxicating.

you were more shocked and confused than ever. “sunghoon, what?”

sunghoon leaned down to look at your face, “taehyun used to bitch and moan that he could never get in your pants. that you would tease him, only willing to dry hump with him.”

you swallowed but rolled your eyes as well. taehyun always did complain that you never let him have sex with you. it never really bothered you.

taehyun knew you were a virgin. what he didn’t know was that whenever you thought about finally being intimate with him, all you thought about what sunghoon. all you could see was sunghoon. your thoughts were consumed of sunghoon whenever you thought anything sexual.

“why wouldn’t you have sex with your boyfriend, cherry?”

“why do you call me cherry?”

“answer me first.” sunghoon placed the bottle on the floor bedside him so he could turn his body to face you once more.

“uh, well i just didn’t want to have sex with him.” you shrugged one shoulder.

“why not?”

“eh eh, i answered you, your turn.” you tsked.

sunghoon bit his lower lip, staring at your lips as he replied, “because of that cherry lip gloss you always wear.”

you were wearing it now. not only did it look good against your skin, it tasted good too, whenever you got your nervous antics and chewed on your lip.

sunghoon always observed you putting that cherry lip gloss on your lips. it started with the cherry chapstick in high school, but just a little over a year ago you started wearing the cherry lip gloss.

“now answer me.” sunghoon demanded.

you took in a deep breath wondering how much or little to tell him. “well,”

“—was it because he wasn’t me?” sunghoon interrupted, your eyes going wide.

“sunghoon, no, what would give you that idea?”

“he told me he heard you calling out another guy’s name while playing with a toy of yours. he looked at me with anger and disbelief as if i had something to do with it.”

your eyes still wide, mouth shaped into an ‘o.’ you laughed nervously waving sunghoon off, “ah, he probably misheard me, that’s all.”

“i don’t believe you cherry.” sunghoon stated, standing up from the couch only to stand directly in front of you. eye level now with his crotch, you looked at him with innocent and confused eyes.

“sunghoon—,”

sunghoon stopped you mid sentence just by his thumbs hooking to the hem of his sweats, only pulling them down a little, teasing to pull out his cock.

“have you only kissed and dry humped him? what else have you done with him while thinking of me?” sunghoon clicked his tongue.

you shook your head. “sunghoon you’re mistaken!”

“sucked taehyun’s dick while thinking of me? mhm, even dry hump him thinking and wishing it was my lap you were rocking against?”

each sentence, sunghoon leaned in closer, mouth inches from yours. he could smell the cherry lip gloss of yours. excited to taste it finally.

you closed your eyes because—it was the truth. all of it. you blurted, “i never had sex with him because i’m a virgin!”

sunghoon chuckled, raising to his full height again. with a smirk, “mhm so my cherry was waiting to get her cherry popped by her enemy.”

you tightened your legs closer together for friction, but also to prevent yourself from becoming any wetter at just his words.

your movement didn’t go unnoticed from sunghoon. he got down on his knees in front of you. “has my cherry thought about getting ate out from her enemy? have you imagined it was me instead of taehyun going down on you?”

you shook your head, wanting to not believe this was happening. it wasn’t until you felt sunghoon’s teeth bite your thigh through your own bottoms, you snapped your eyes open.

“what was that for!”

sunghoon laughed, “be honest baby.” then, you nodded. “guess i’ll have to make your imagination become reality, huh?”

quick and easy, he got your bottoms off of your legs, and used his thumb to tease your clit through your underwear. a wet spot already beginning to form.

sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with neediness and excitement. he got up from his knees, you internally protesting, until his lips captures yours into a searing kiss.

he whispered against your lips, “so tasty, cherry,” as he continued to intensely work his lips against yours, loving the cherry lip gloss against his own lips.

he soon fell back to his knees, kissing up your right thigh before he moved your underwear to the side, poking his index finger to your cunt. he was met with tightness and some resistance, but only because it was a new feeling, new fingers for you. long, fingers to be exact.

sunghoon poked his index finger in your hole, followed by his middle finger, your legs opening wider for him, head rolling to the back of the couch with a groan. your hands gripped the couch, fingers digging into the cushions.

sunghoon then added a third finger, his ring finger, and your right leg went to hook over his shoulder, him holding your left wide open for him.

it was so much you wanted to snap your legs closed. sunghoon rocked his fingers in and out a few times, until your wetness covered his fingers, and he pulled out, quickly undressing you of your underwear. but just as quickly as his fingers were gone, it was replaced with his tongue and lips.

“sung—hoon!” you sang into a moan, left hand gripping his locks.

he moaned into your cunt, lapping up the juices you had to offer to him, occasionally using his k-9 teeth to nibble on your folds and clit. when his lips found home onto your clit, using his tongue to swirl, teeth to nibble, three of his fingers entered back into your cunt, no warning or teasing. he began rocking his fingers in and out in a medium pace, his tongue flicking your bud.

your chest and stomach began to tighten, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, head rolling onto the back of the couch from left to right. he removed his lips, fingers still, only to spit on your cunt, and got right back to work as if he didn’t pause to begin with.

this orgasm was about to be intense. taehyun never gave you mind blowing head like this. he was always decent, though. but sunghoon’s tongue was magic and had you coming way too soon.

“hoon!” you moaned loudly, hoping no one outside the door could hear you. “i’m—hoon, i—come—my goodness!” you babbled.

sunghoon used only his tongue while you came down from your first orgasm of the night.

your body jerked from the overstimulation, you pushing sunghoon’s head away.

“taste so good, cherry. better than i imagined.” he whispered once again, against your lips, before kissing you, his tongue poking through to find yours.

while kissing him, sunghoon grabbed you by your thighs so he picked you up and held you, turning around so he sat on the couch with you straddling him.

your wetness immediately started to stain his sweats, but he didn’t care. “hump me, cherry.”

“like this?” you asked. he wanted you to hump him? you bare below, him with his sweats?

you squealed when a palm of his came down to your bare ass. “it wasn’t an option, cherry.”

you nodded, biting your lip, as you began to rock your hips back and forth and in circles around his cock which was imprinting through his sweats. your cunt could feel the outline of him, getting wetter with each movement.

soon, you were on your way to your second orgasm. sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as you became more sloppy, only worried about reaching your second orgasm.

“that’s it cherry, use me like you’ve always wanted.” fuck sunghoon’s words were not (but was) helping.

your hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as your movements increased as your orgasm was approaching.

your thighs started to become wet from your own juices, a big spot covering sungoon’s outline.

sunghoon pulled you closer as you came, he began sucking and kissing your neck, sending you over the edge even more.

your movements slowed down, as his hands stayed glued to your hips. your breathing became heavy against his collarbone, you giving it a peck, leaving a lip mark.

you’ve had two orgasms, sunghoon none. you leaned back to look sunghoon in the eyes. “what about you coming?”

sunghoon’s lips perked up, “cherry, i’ll come, don’t you worry.”

sunghoon from underneath, pulled down his sweat pants, your thighs and cunt somewhat hovering over him. you felt his tip brush against your folds, your body shivering with excitement.

you only hoped your toys prepared you enough for this moment. sunghoon pushed his sweats off as far as he could, down to his ankles. his shirt came off next, along with yours, leaving you both completely naked.

“cherry, i hope you used a dildo big enough.” he stated as he pulled a condom out from between the couch cushions. you were to entranced to even comment on that.

you bit your lip, “i hope so too, hoon.” you sighed against his lips, kissing him, as he helped you ease down on his hard cock after he put on the condom.

you bit down on his lip when he fully pushed you down on his length, a loud moan coming from you both.

“fuck, so tight cherry.” sunghoon groaned, head leaning back against the couch. “those toys did nothing to prepare you for me.”

you stayed still, both in a comfortable position. “i’m scared to move.”

“just go slow, okay?” sunghoon’s fingertips ran up and down your spine to comfort you. with a sigh of pleasure, you lifted your hips to the tip only, to slowly push back down.

you were sure you felt him in your stomach. slowly, you kept a rhythm of up and down on his length, occasionally rocking your clit forward for friction.

soon your thighs were starting to tense and become tired. “hoon, can—can you take over please?” you sighed against his cheek, nose resting in his neck.

without even removing himself from in you, sunghoon stood up from the couch, your wetness dripping in between the both of you. he carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapped around him.

he laid you on the bed, again, never slipping from inside you. his hand found one of your hips, the other resting against your cheek.

“let me know if it’s too much.” sunghoon stated before he pulled out completely only to push back with such force, your cunt squelched, your eyes shutting, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“fuck! sunghoon!”

you wasn’t expecting that. but honestly, you wasn’t expecting or even wanting him to be gentle.

for the next however long, which felt like hours, sunghoon rutted his cock in and out of your cunt with ease, your wetness spilling out on your thighs and his.

his thumb came down to your clit, rubbing left, right, up, and down, stimulating you just right to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

“that’s it cherry, baby come on my cock. come on your first cock. fuck!” sunghoon moaned. “such a dirty slut thinking about your enemy while with that ex of yours.”

“hoon—sorry,” you apologized for no reason at all. why was you apologizing?

“wanted me to be the one to pop your cherry? got your wish.” sunghoon sighed, his pace of thrusts speeding up and becoming sloppy as he was chasing his first orgasm. “fucking whore thinking of me while playing with your toys. imagining it was me eating you out. kissing you. all while with—,”

with a loud, explosive moan, you cut sunghoon off as you came for the third time. no squirting involved, but you did have so much wetness dripping out of you, anyone could be mistaken.

sunghoon released into the condom with a low, throaty, growl-like moan, collapsing on top of you before rolling off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

sometime in the middle of the night, you heard hush whispers. you didn’t move an inch, only somewhat, subconsciously listening.

“sorry man, i can ask her to leave?”

“absolutely not! i’ll go bunk with her roommate for this trip. once i tell her why i need somewhere to sleep she will be more than thrilled.”

it was heeseung, coming in after 3 am. once he saw you and sunghoon in the same bed, he didn’t even ask questions, only smiled.

about damn time you two fucked the anger out of one another.

sunghoon crawled back in bed next to you, your body only covered by a shirt of his. sunghoon stared at your sleeping figure with a smile.

you were finally his.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some guy gets arrested

Inspired by @medium-sized-ghost addition to the Original Post.

Masterpost

“So sorry about this, Mr. Wayne.”

“No, I understand. I’m just glad to see the law doing their job so well.” Bruce continues pleasantly through the police station with Commissioner Gordon leading the way.

“We’ll get this sorted out as soon as possible, but in the meantime you will need to unfortunately be placed in holding.”

“Of course. It’s really no problem, it was my mistake missing my court date like that. Time just gets away from me sometimes, you know?” Nevermind the fact that Bruce hadn’t even known about said court date or the speeding ticket it was for. He couldn’t prove which child had taken his car for a joy ride, but his prime suspects were Jason or Dick. (He would later find out that it was Stephanie upon a dare from Duke. He already attempted to banned them from playing Truth or Dare after Tim convinced Dick to do a handstand on Jason’s bike going 95 down the freeway. Not that Dick really needed any convincing.)

“Well you’re in luck, one cell is mostly empty.” It was a small cell closer to the front. Bruce could see a teenager laying on the bench to the right. Gordon opened the door and stood to the side so Bruce could enter and locked the door behind him. “Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

Bruce smiled, “No, thank you.” Gordon nodded and looked past Bruce at the only other occupant in the cell, “What about you kid? Anything?”

Bruce watched as the kid, one he unfortunately recognized, lifted his arm from where it was thrown over his eyes and waved it in the air at the commissioner, “I’m good.” The arm went back down. Gordon grunted, “alright Officer Mitchell is keeping watch, call out if either of you need anything.”

With that Bruce was left alone with the boy who had befuddled and befriended his many children. He sat on the opposite bench and thought about how best to approach the young man. Danny had never responded well to Batman and there was no telling how he would respond to Bruce. According to Tim, Danny actually had some respect for Bruce and the money he dumped into bettering Gotham. (When it was announced that the public library was being renovated Danny had interrogated Tim about it and then offered his own opinions on how to involve more of the general population.)

Bruce didn’t think the time called for his “Brucie” persona and he couldn’t be Batman at the moment. He could approach the boy in a “fatherly” manner but that approach rarely worked on his own kids, he didn’t think it would work on this one.

“Have you called anyone?”

Danny looked out from under his arm and stared at Bruce suspiciously. In hindsight it was a creepy question.

Bruce brought his hands up and breathed a laugh, “I’m sorry, I meant have you been given your one phone call?” Danny didn’t move. “Why? You a lawyer?” He eyed Bruce in his nice suit and watch.

Bruce smiled at the boy, “goodness no, I don’t have the attention span for law school. I actually did pre-med before dropping out.”

Danny seemed too curl a little more into himself. It was the most cautious Bruce had ever seen him. He was locked in a Gotham police cell with a man in an expensive suit who seemed completely unconcerned about being arrested, it was wise on Danny’s part to be wary.

Bruce stuck out his hand, “Bruce Wayne.” Slowly, Danny sat up and crossed his arm scoffing, “why would Bruce Wayne be in a holding cell?” Bruce continued to smile at the kid and shrugged, his hand still in the air, “speeding ticket I’m afraid, missed my court date. I do have to say, though, the updated traffic cameras are a good investment by the police department.” “Wayne Enterprises payed for them.” “We did?” Bruce asked, knowing full well it was to give Oracle better camera footage. “You were at the press release.” “Huh.” Bruce looked thoughtful for a minute, “mm no, not ringing any bells. I go to so many of those press conferences, they just bleed together after a while.” “Mhm.” Danny still didn’t take the offered hand. Bruce sighed and let it drop back to his lap, “I’d offer to show you my ID but I don’t exactly have it on me.”

They sat and watched each other for a minute. Danny shifted and seemed to make a decision, “I work at a coffee shop and one of your sons is a regular.” Bruce slapped his thigh as if a light bulb suddenly went off, “You’re Danny! Tim’s mentioned you! You know he’s the only one with a weakness for caffeine, the others like to tease him but I don’t think he has an addiction. However, he does seem to spend a lot of time at that shop.” Bruce leaned forward as if confiding a secret, “to be honest, I think he has a bit of a crush on you.”

Dropping his own arms, Danny sighed. “Yeah, he’s not really that subtle.”

“No, I’m afraid he’s never been good at that. At least not when he’s interested in someone.” Tim was great at subtlety when it came to the mission but never in his personal life. The funny part was he didn’t even draw that distinction on purpose.

“I called a family friend. To answer your question. He should be here soon.” Bruce nodded, “so you do have people you can rely on in town?” “I could have a whole family I can rely on in this city.” Danny said, catching the older man's slip. He shifts further in his seat and stared hard at Bruce.

Bruce knew Danny had no one in town. He did the background check, Danny's whole family lived in Ohio with the exception of his older sister who was in one of the top psychology programs in the country. They seemed to visit each other often but rarely their parents.

The older man dawned an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I assumed when you said ‘a family friend’.” Bruce leaned back against the wall behind him, “are you from Gotham?”

“No,” Danny shifted further back in his seat and didn’t take his eyes off Bruce.

It was different from how the boy interacted with Batman. To the billionaires alter ego Danny was defiant and outspoken. He always seemed to say what was on his mind, completely uncaring of the audience he had.

——-

“Mr. Fenton, your god-father is here for you.”

Danny never thought he’d feel this relieved to know Vlad was picking him up. While Mr. Wayne had been nothing but polite, something about the man felt off. Danny also didn’t appreciate the questions. What was it to this man if Danny had family near by or not?

One of the cops opens the door with Vlad in his nice suit and overly polished shoes right behind him.

“Daniel, let’s not make this a habit.”

“I was just feeding the homeless dogs!”

“Strays.” Vlad corrected, “while trespassing?”

Danny rolled his eyes and continued pass his “uncle”.

“How am I supposed to know an abandoned building is considered ‘private property’?”

Vlad just sighed.

——

Bonus:

Stephanie would continue to stick to her story, thank you very much. She had every right to punch the creep and she wasn’t backing down. Not even if “the creep” was apparently the son of a very influential prosecutor. A corrupt one, but he was influential nonetheless. Such is the justice system in Gotham.

Even if it landed her in a police station, handcuffed to a desk while said creep cried about the bloody nose she gave him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she crossed her legs and continued to glare at the door way that led to the holding cells. It was her night off and she still had to deal with this godforsaken city’s degenerate citizens. God forbid she have a day off.

It was while glaring at said door that Steph noticed a familiar boy walking out with a gentleman she wasn’t familiar with. He was a little behind Danny but reached out and grabbed his shoulder, stopping him just before leaving the hallway. Steph slid her gaze away but kept her ears open, grateful she was close enough to hear.

“You need to be more careful, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t respond and Steph looked over to see him pull his shoulder away and start walking again.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to bail me out. I could have called Jazz or Sam.”

“Nonsense, it’s good to get out of Wisconsin.”

Steph wrinkled her nose, Wisconsin? The pair continued out of ear shot and shortly out of the station.

When Bruce was released a few minutes later, Stephanie smiled and took great joy in his obvious (to any member of his family) despair and exasperation at seeing her.

Part 8

[shomatoriashi]

01/01/25; 12:00am

sylus x fem.reader / mc.reader

notes: despite how much i adore night of secrecy, it left a lot to be desired, so i’ll be doing a thirstier rewrite (⺣◡⺣)♡ and have this be my first post to welcome in the new year ♡

obligatory tag: @voidsylus (⺣◡⺣)♡

extra notes: it’s still not showing up in the tags, ;; but i will reblog this story periodically under an icymi tags so you readers can at least see it on my blog.

update as of 04:56pm: FINALLY ITS IN THE TAGS!! 😭🙌🏻

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the tension was thick in the air, and you had a hunch that sylus had lost your little “gun assembling” contest on purpose. looking down at his deft fingers and witnessing the millions of times sylus polished his weapons with a calculating touch-

it was painfully obvious how you couldn’t have won that easily.

and the epiphany of it all was enough to make a surge of warmth course through you.

shaking your head, you get back to the situation at hand, playfully pressing the muzzle of the gun against his chin. "i won." you tell him in a breathless whisper, watching sylus as he raised his hands in mock defeat while meeting your gaze. "and i lost. go ahead. ask your question."

letting out a shaky breath, you take a moment to admire the firelight and how it painted sylus in golden hues, captivating you in every sense of the word as you lowered the gun.

“i’m sleepy…"

clearly caught off guard by your words, sylus narrows his crimson gaze in response, remaining silent as he allowed you to speak once more.

"can you tuck me in tonight?” you finish, your eyes meeting with his as a sense of determination courses through you.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from sylus, "heh, and i thought a certain relentless hunter would ask about my destination. or did you finally heed those words... curiosity killed the cat, kitten?"

a wistful smile paints your expression as you shake your head at him, "i care more about the present than an answer i can get. so... are you doing it or not?"

you wait with bated breath as sylus lets out a huff, coming closer to you while framing at your face, "of course, kitten." without hesitation, he stands back to his full height all while taking you within his embrace, carrying your shoes in his free hand while walking with you toward one of the master bedrooms located on the second floor. "this request is way more powerful than that little gun."

as he held you, you cling to him, arms wrapping around his neck while basking in his warmth. with the bedroom in sight, he tosses aside your heels while settling himself against the armchair. hiding your face within the curve of his neck, you feel the sensation of sylus's lips brushing against your cheek. "if you don't want to lie down, i can keep holding you until i leave."

"what if i don't want you to leave...?" you tell him with a whisper, shivering when sylus brushes his lips against your skin once more, "then... we better make the most of our time before dawn."

a painful ache was felt between your legs when you suddenly surged forward, capturing sylus's lips in a kiss that takes his very breath away. while you desperately tried to deepen it, you could feel sylus smiling against your lips, whispering huskily to you, "you really don't want me to leave?"

by now, the ache between your legs was too much to bear, with you pulling away from the kiss first. your head gestures over to the king sized bed, "sylus, over there..."

"looks like we're on the same page when it comes to not wanting to waste time." with a grunt of your name, he picks up your pliant form like you weighed nothing at all. with your limbs wrapped around his powerful body, sylus settles you against the silken sheets, with your hands now wrapped around his neck to pull him achingly closer to you.

you trail your eyes off to the side, only to feel sylus gently gripping at your chin while telling you, "stay focused, kitten. don't look."

his hot breath was felt against your ear when sylus covers your eyes with his large hand while gripping at your hand with the other. swallowing thickly, you intertwine your fingertips with his, giving it a squeeze just as sylus gives your lips a searing kiss. you moan into his kiss, allowing your tongue to meet with his as they clashed, fighting with a gentle dominance that makes your mind go hazy.

when the need for air proves to be too much, you pull away from the kiss first, hands delving into his silken locks of hair, "am i being too greedy... if i ask you to keep your eyes only on me?" you trail your fingertips from his hair to the side of his face, gently framing at it all while trembling when he presses a kiss against the palm of your hand. "you always had that right. which means... you can be even greedier. tell me- do you want it, kitten?"

was that even a question at this point? yes was the single word that comes from your parted lips-

and that was all the urging sylus needed to awaken the beast in him.

a growl was heard when his large hand grips at your knee, ready to spread your legs with a shake of his head, "you haven't changed your mind, have you...? you just said yes." a sense of desperation was heard in his voice when he pulls you by your ankles, pressing your clothed center against the straining erection within the front of his pants. "i'm hoping yes is still your answer because... i just can't hold back anymore."

you wanted to tell him how you couldn't hold back either, yet found that your voice was lost the moment his lips captures yours once more, pressing your body against his naked chest, the material of his shirt already unbuttoned as you felt his muscles rippling against you. you allow him to swallow your moans with his fervent kiss, feeling like you were melting against him.

"s-sylus, i can't breathe..." you tell him while greedily taking in gasps of air, a hand settled on his chest damp with sweat. with a gentle touch, sylus brushes aside your hair, fingers already descending down upon you, settling the palm of it between your legs as he moves aside your soaked panties, dipping a single digit within your slick folds.

a pumping motion was felt within your aching walls, making you grip at his biceps as you fell back against the bed, becoming subjected to his ministrations. your pants and sylus's grunts echo throughout the room, and you let out a hiss when you felt sylus gently bite down against the waistband of your panties before pulling it off of you in one, swift motion, "h-hey, don't bite there-"

however, your words of protests falls on deaf ears, morphing into a breathy moan when sylus presses his lips against your cunt. his tongue traces at your pussy lips, collecting your arousal while basking in the pure taste of you. with a few more licks and a pinching sensation felt against your hardened clit succeeds in helping you climax, your hands gripping at his hair, earning a grunt from sylus.

once he was finished, sylus pulls away from the spot between your legs, licking his lips while meeting your gaze with a huff, "first you want it rough, now you want it soft... i thought you would be tough to please tonight, kitten. however..." he trails off while licking at his lips, "perhaps i was wrong in believing you were hard to please since i got such an intense taste of you."

you pout at him, ready to bite back with your own words when they suddenly became lost against your lips. you feel sylus lean over you, trailing kisses down your neck, as if apologizing for teasing you. "what do you really want? won't you be honest and tell me like you just did?"

your eyes met with his within the intimate lighting, trembling at the sound of his seductive voice dripping with honey. you lick your own lips in response, gently pushing him back down against the bed as the palm of your hand cups at his clothed erection, "i'm not falling for your tricks."

teasing him, you bite down at your bottom lip and trail your fingertips down his chest, "i told you before that hunters like me don't like being passive."

with a shake of his head, he lets out another chuckle, "so, you want control. unfortunately, i can't give it to you. not yet, at least." his hands wrap themselves around your waist to lay you back down in bed, touch filled with reverence as he trails his fingertips down the length of your body before telling you, "don't run."

"you're so... demanding... hah... it's annoying." your hands claw at the sheets settled below you, earning a smirk from sylus, "i won't deny it. i guess you can say i lied. tonight, you're not the only one feeling greedy... and i won't be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied."

you became dimly aware of the sounds of shifting fabric, making you look down as your cheeks were felt blossoming with heat. settled between your legs was his cock completely hardened and ready for you, making you gasp when he manages to brush the tip of it against your soaking heat. "ah, i misspoke."

"w-what?" by now, sylus was tracing his cock against your outer lips, teasing you when he caresses at the hardened bundle of nerves as well. he continues to give you a smug expression, licking his lips while teasing you with his cock, "greed can never be satisfied... but you can temporarily soothe it."

taking a hold of your hand, he kisses it while asking once more, "say it again, sweetie, do you want it?"

meeting his gaze, you lean closer to him, conveying your need for him in yet another passionate kiss. delving your fingers into his hair, you give those moonlit strands a gentle tug while murmuring against his lips, "this is my answer."

and that was all the confirmation your lover needed.

your broken moans suddenly pierces through the silence of the night, tossing your head back the moment sylus completely sheathes his cock within your walls. he sets a rapid pace, making the bed bounce in tune with his movements. no words were spoken when sylus grips at your lower back, pressing you oh so much closer to him.

while you were writhing against the bed, you felt sylus reach parts of you that you didn't know existed, the pleasure taking on new heights with each tilt of his hips. the sounds of your copulation echoes throughout the room, causing your mind to go hazy as you take in every inch of him over and over again.

and when you felt the familiar twitching of his cock, you wrapped your legs even tighter around his waist, allowing his seed to paint your walls white, relishing in his shuddering breaths of your name when he captures your lips, making sure that you were forever connected while the red hot pleasure courses through your veins...

{ ... }

the rays of sunlight felt hitting against your closed eyelids was the first thing that woke you up-

the second was the disappearance of sylus and the sounds of a shower running from just a few feet away from you. feeling like you were caught in a dream, you get out of bed, naked while allowing the sheets to fall off your form.

curiosity paints your expression when you jostle the bathroom's door, smiling upon realizing it was unlocked as you stepped inside. the mist left from the hot shower surrounds you, making the anticipation course through your veins upon seeing sylus's silhouette against the glass pane of the shower.

letting out a purr of his name, you join him in the shower, earning a smirk from him when he faces you. "i was wondering when you'd wake up, kitten."

with a roll of your eyes, you get on your knees, taking in his cock within your awaiting mouth while basking in his broken grunt. "sweetie-"

when you manage to stroke his cock to full hardness, you hum against his erection, purposely tracing against the veins felt pulsating down his shaft before playing with his tip with your tongue-

thanks to this sudden shower, you figured you could tell sylus how you had no intention of letting him go off alone,

that you had every intention of staying by his side later on-

after your much needed quickie with him.

end notes: highkey what i wanted to happen lmao infold let me be one of your writers pls.... 🫠🫠🫠 anyways, this is my first post to welcome in the new year! 2025 will be amazing; i truly believe it. here's to a million more daydreams to come 🥰

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!