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sincerelybubbles · 1 year ago

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it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention.

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you.

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight.

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind.

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain.

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door.

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous.

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape.

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee.

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply.

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over.

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide.

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge.

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove.

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh.

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor.

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book.

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta.

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart.

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news.

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting.

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident.

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet.

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well.

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face.

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief.

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest.

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled.

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression.

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere.

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile.

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile.

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are.

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted.

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him.

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space.

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones.

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically.

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head.

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name.

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone.

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait.

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in.

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks.

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack.

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something.

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder.

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up.

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains.

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little.

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one.

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted.

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread.

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him.

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it.

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes.

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him.

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about.

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere.

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable.

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away.

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms.

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly.

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something.

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers.

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging.

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering.

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct.

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back.

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly.

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored.

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory.

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught.

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street.

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food.

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street.

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs.

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks.

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer.

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house.

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head.

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window.

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology.

You wish he hadn’t.

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again.

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle.

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts.

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway.

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side.

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun.

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks.

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low.

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms.

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid.

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy.

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head.

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket.

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team.

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway.

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you.

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away.

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it.

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile.

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

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readngandweepng · 8 months ago

Text

needed to put my thoughts on paper about screwing daisuke or curly in the main lobby + some tidbits (pre-crash)

MDNI gn amab top reader, bottom character. can honestly be any of them i guess?? but i wrote this with curly and daisuke in mind lmao. basically just a horny post about same-room sex. half proof-read and probably ooc

imagine fucking him while he’s either sitting on the kitchen counter or laid against the table when everyone’s sound asleep in their respective cabins. he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck where you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he’s trying oh so hard to keep his volume down. his hands clutch the back of your shirt so tightly you think he’s going to tear it. he bucks his hips, sending a shake bolting through his body. the moan it erupts is muffled by your neck, as are the rest of them. with your fast fucking he has to take a deep breath before hiking a leg up over your waist, angling your cock just a little bit deeper inside of him where he needs you most. the fear of getting caught has dwindled down, too distracted by the feeling of you pounding into him to even give it a second thought. all he can do is hook his legs around your waist and take your cock. he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep his moans repressed as he arches his back and cums. your cum filling him up is almost rejuvenating, and suddenly the consequences of getting caught means absolutely nothing as he rocks into you, his legs around your waist keeping you, and your cock, perfectly in place.

both daisuke and curly would really enjoy the humiliation aspect of something like this. actually getting caught would be absolutely mortifying, but if you were to successfully have sex in the kitchen or on one of the couches without anyone knowing or catching you? say goodbye to your dick because it's curly's now. it wouldn't be an insanely common thing between you two, but i do think that he would secretly be kind of in love with it. daisuke would enjoy it but i don't see him as too much of the exhibitionist type; he prefers getting caught being lovey-dovey.

curly definitely has a rebellious side, and if he was feeling frisky enough he'd lean against one of the kitchen counters while daisuke and swansea were at the dining table, bending over just enough to catch your eye. he might even brush himself against your crotch when passing by, but it wouldn't be noticeable to anyone other than you or someone actively looking for it.

though i don't think daisuke would be forward like that in public, (the most he'll do is give you kisses or sit in your lap while he's playing) he wouldn't mind if you kissed up his neck while he's playing sorry! or rifling in the kitchen for something to eat. swansea would scold you and it would make his face red, but he does enjoy the little thrill he gets out of someone catching you sneak kisses.

(i'm not entirely sure what their sleeping quarters entail, like if there's bunk beds and everyone sleeps in the same room) but in this case that is the set-up, and neither daisuke nor curly would be opposed to riding you on your bed while everyone else is asleep.

daisuke is like a bunny, riding you too fast for his own good until the creaking of the bed forces him to slow down. really, if you actually want to get caught this is the best way to do it, but to ensure there's some kind of dignity left, sitting up and controlling his speed while he has something stuffed in his mouth to keep him from whining is the way to go. otherwise he won't have the self-control to cover his own mouth where your hands are too far away to cover it for him before he wakes everyone up.

riding you is definitely one of curly's favorite things to do, so he would be great at it, even in a situation where you have to be quiet. he'd like leaning over and kissing you with his hands by your head and your arms wrapped around him. the main concern here is having the self-control to not buck your hips up into him, yet your feet are still planted flat on the bed, just in case. he's not the worst at being quiet, so why not make things exciting?

daisuke would love sneaking into bed with you, even if it really is just so sleep. he loves having his back flush against your chest as your hand goes down the front of his pants to stroke him. sometimes he'll just rock into your hand until he cums, and sometimes he'll take off his pants and slip your cock inside, rutting back against you until you push him down onto his stomach and take him. you have to be careful with daisuke because he's noisy, and if you can't tire him out he'll just ask you for more, and by that point the whole crew will know what you've been up to at night (as if they don't already know).

curly, depending on the circumstances, can a lot of the time be the one to start it. playing it off by giving you kisses on the corner of your lips and acting like it's just to send you off to sleep. but then he'll move his lips down to your jaw, and to your neck. you'll feel his hand palm at you through your pants, but if you try touching him he'll shush you, taking your cock out and stroking it painfully slow. you can kiss him, but then he won't throw the blanket over his head and mouth at your dick to slip it down his throat.

ftm!curly would adore having you eat him out under the covers. the feeling of your fingers curling inside of him is intoxicating, and having to keep his voice down and his breathing even just adds to the pleasure he feels. curly is good at keeping his volume down until you start sucking on his clit, then he has to turn his head and pull the pillow over his mouth to quiet himself. he bucks into your tongue a lot because even though he won't outright admit it, he revels in the thought that others might hear how wet you make him.

ftm!curly, if he's feeling too shy, likes when you fuck his thighs, being perfectly content with your cock grazing his cunt. he'll tweak his nipples and watch your dick being sandwiched by his thighs. if he doesn't cum, he's not opposed to finishing things quickly and having you just rub his clit while you kiss and nip at his chest.

ftm!daisuke also loves being eaten out but he's not as good at being quiet, so he'd prefer being fingered where the pleasure being inflicted upon him isn't as overwhelming and direct. he likes when you slowly drag your fingers in and out, spreading him open little by little while thumbing his clit every now and then. he gets very wet very fast, so being under the covers is ideal to drown out the sounds his cunt makes, especially when you begin to speed up and his thighs clamp around your hand because the feeling is too much.

ftm!daisuke loves dry-humping too, and he cums a lot quieter. he'd like having you hold him as he rides your thigh, clothed or not. daisuke also would love to feel the head of your cock rubbing against his pussy, teasing his entrance. absolutely can cum from just your dick gently slapping against his clit.

these thoughts honestly spawned from the very minute i saw the bedrolls on the ground in the lobby. i'm not even a horn-dog but one of my first thoughts was damn imagine fucking there so now here is this post to finally relinquish weeks of 'what-if-'s and 'i-would-totally-'s. i am really into the whole having sex with the chance of getting caught but would hate actually getting caught thing if you couldn't tell lmao.

#mouthwashing x reader #bottom mouthwashing #top male reader #daisuke x reader #captain curly x reader #the more i write for him the more i love curly #i have so many thoughts about this btw #this is my roman empire #dont even care if this is ooc cuz damn #afab character #ftm character #my writngs

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sunandflame · 22 days ago

Text

The Third Heart

Warnings: pregnancy

Word Count: 915

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x Pregnant!Reader

a/n: continuation of "the wanting" and "confirmation"

crossposted on AO3

The announcement came after days of careful observation, gentle prodding, and a final, softly spoken confirmation from Law himself.

The Heart Pirates were gathered in the Polar Tang's galley, plates half-full and conversation casual. Bepo was telling a story, something about a giant crab stealing Shachi's shoe, and laughter echoed through the room. You were nestled quietly beside Law at the far end of the table, your hand resting over your belly, half-nervous, half-awed.

Law placed his chopsticks down with a deliberate clack. The shift in his posture made the crew look up. "I have an announcement," he said, voice calm but firm.

Everyone turned. Shachi's mouth was still half-full of rice. Penguin blinked.

"Y/N is pregnant."

Silence.

And then—

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

Shachi nearly knocked over his bowl. Bepo stood up so fast he bumped his head on the overhead lamp. Ikkaku gasped, hand flying to her mouth, and Clione made a strange gurgling sound somewhere between a cheer and a squeak.

"You mean—pregnant, pregnant?" Penguin stammered. "Like—with a baby?"

"That's what 'pregnant' means, idiot," Law muttered.

You couldn’t help laughing then, covering your face as the crew broke into a storm of exclamations.

"A BABY!"

"We're going to be uncles!"

"Holy crap, we need to baby-proof the ship!"

"Does that mean we'll have a nursery on the Polar Tang?!"

They swarmed you like over excited puppies, careful not to touch but buzzing with energy. Bepo especially hovered nearby, eyes wide and bright, asking a million gentle questions: How far along? Are you feeling okay? Can he bring you tea? Should he move your seat in the galley to a softer cushion?

Law stood like a quiet wall behind you, arms crossed, his usual scowl softening as he watched.

Over the next few weeks, the changes came in waves.

You started showing.

Not much, just a small swell beneath your navel. But Law noticed before anyone else. His eyes were drawn to the curve every time you changed clothes or reached for something. His hands lingered longer when he touched your waist, fingers tracing absentmindedly along your skin with the careful reverence of a man who understood how fragile things could be.

And then came the protection.

At first, it was subtle. He positioned you further from the engine room when repairs were being done. He started bringing you tea before you could ask. Then it escalated.

"You don't need to carry that."

"It’s literally a pillow, Law."

"Still. Let Bepo do it."

He began checking your vitals every night, palm pressed to your forehead, hand resting against your wrist, eyes scanning for any irregularities. He never said it aloud, but you knew. This baby was everything to him. A miracle. A chance to make something whole in the wreckage of his past.

The crew followed his lead.

If Law was protective, the Heart Pirates were fanatical. You weren’t allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup of tea. Someone was always nearby to steady you on stairs or offer a seat. Meals were catered to your cravings. At one point, Penguin hand-sewed you a maternity vest. It was hideous, but you wore it proudly for a day just to see him grin.

"Captain," Bepo whispered one night, as you dozed curled up beside Law on the sofa, "I've never seen you like this."

Law didn't look up from the medical notes he was reading. But a faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

"Neither have I."

The baby came during a quiet night near a remote island port.

You'd docked for supplies, not expecting labor for another week, but the baby had other plans. Law was a fortress of calm. He ushered you into the medical bay with practiced efficiency, ordering the crew to stay out but stay close. Bepo stationed himself right outside the door, refusing to budge.

Inside, it was just you and Law.

You remembered his hands, steady and cool, guiding you through each contraction. His voice, low and firm in your ear: "You're doing perfect. Just breathe."

And when the baby finally came—a wail, sharp and small and alive—you saw something in Law's face you'd never seen before.

Wonder.

Pure, unfiltered wonder.

He held the child like he was cradling the last piece of a broken star. Silent. Staring.

"It's a girl," he whispered.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks as you rested your head exhausted back.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

Time passed. The Polar Tang adapted.

The medical bay became a temporary nursery, its corners filled with soft blankets and handmade toys. The crew walked softer now, spoke quieter. Everyone took turns watching the baby when you needed rest. Even Law, who at first acted awkward around the tiny bundle, soon became a practiced pro at swaddling, feeding, even humming under his breath to lull her to sleep.

You caught him once in the galley, early morning, cradling her against his chest. He didn’t notice you at first. She was cooing softly, one small hand gripping the lapel of his coat. And Law—stoic, grumpy, brilliant Law—was murmuring something about how her toes were exactly like yours.

You didn't interrupt.

You just watched.

Because in that moment, everything he'd ever lost had made room for something new.

And he was whole again.

So were you.

And the sea? It still waited. Still called. But now, it wasn’t just the two of you braving its depths.

It was three.

And that made all the difference.

This is for @karsinthesilly and @rhuski2002 because they requested a 3rd part. And of course tagging also @stuckinthewrongworld because I know she loves Law ❤️

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lxstxr · 13 days ago

Text

Sanctus

summary: Emily finds herself at your apartment after “Demonology.”

word count: 2.0k

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, past relationship, fem!reader

warnings: heavy focus on religious trauma, mentions of queer religious guilt, mentions of blood (nosebleed), mentions of emily’s abortion

a/n: healing my religious trauma one ethel cain song and demonology fic at a time

You’re not expecting anyone. It’s past midnight, and the snow outside your apartment window has swallowed the streetlights whole. The kind of storm that makes the world soundless, weightless, like it's been erased and rewritten in white. You’d almost drifted off on the couch, half a glass of wine forgotten on the end table, when the knock comes.

Three quick raps. Then silence. You sit up slowly, heart stuttering once. Maybe it’s the wind. Another knock. This time firmer. Urgent, but not panicked.

You move to the door, barefoot, careful. You don’t ask who it is before you open it. Somehow, you already know. She stands there like a ghost made flesh.

Emily Prentiss. Older, sharper, yet exactly the same. Snow clings to her lashes, her dark hair tangled and wet, tucked into her half-buttoned coat. There’s a thin smear of blood just beneath one nostril, and her eyes look like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You just stare. You wonder if you’re dreaming. Her voice finally breaks the spell. It’s quiet. Raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You don’t answer. Just step back, leaving the door open behind you. She enters slowly, like she’s not sure she’s allowed.

She doesn’t say anything as you help her out of her coat. It’s heavier than it looks, soaked clean through, the shoulders sagging with unspoken weight. You hang it by the heater. She stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room, arms crossed, like a child sent to the principal’s office, like she expects to be scolded or forgiven and can’t decide which would hurt more.

You disappear briefly into the kitchen and return with a warm cloth. She flinches as you raise it to her face, but doesn’t stop you. The blood beneath her nose has started to dry, turning to rust against her skin. “What happened?” you ask, gently pressing the cloth just below her nostril.

She shrugs. “Nosebleed.” You don’t press.

Up close, you can see the lines under her eyes, the way her lashes clump from melted snow, the tension wound tight in her jaw. She’s older, sure, but not as different as she wants you to think. She looks like Rome.

You pull the cloth away and sit on the edge of the couch. She doesn’t sit yet. Just lets her eyes sweep over the room, maybe searching for proof that you’re still the same person. Maybe hoping you’re not. “You still have that painting,” she says after a long silence.

You follow her gaze. It’s the one above your bookshelf, a faded icon of Saint Agnes, cracked varnish and all. You found them together, two of the same, in a street market behind the Vatican, years ago. She pretended to hate them. You both loved them.

“I never threw it away. Did you?” you say.

Emily steps toward it slowly, as though it might vanish if she moves too fast. She folds her arms.

“I wanted to,” she says. “Back then. I thought maybe if I let go of everything from that year it would stop hurting. But I couldn’t. I thought maybe if I got older, it would mean something different.”

“Does it?”

“No,” she pauses.“You never said goodbye.”

You flinch, looking down at your hands. “I know.”

“When you left I was broken. I tried almost everything to fill that void.”

That silences you both. You know exactly what she’s talking about.

She walks to the window, presses her fingers against the glass.. “You were gone,” she says, like a knife. “Back to the States. School. Normalcy.”

“And you were still in Rome.”

Emily nods. “Matthew stayed. After you left. He—” her voice falters, like it’s been bruised by years of silence. “He took me to the clinic. He held my hand through it. He sat with me after. He told me I didn’t have to be forgiven.”

“Did you believe him?”

“No,” she says. “Not then. Not when the Church renounced me. Not when I walked out of that hospital feeling like I’d lost everything I didn’t know how to name.”

“And now?”

Emily turns to face you. Her eyes are glassy. Not quite crying, but close.

“Now I know I didn’t lose it. I just left it behind.”

She looks at you like maybe she’s asking if you’re still there.

“You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant,” you say, quiet.

“I couldn’t. You were the last part of me that still felt clean.”

The silence that follows is thick, almost sacred.

You don’t say I would’ve stayed. You don’t say I would’ve gone with you. You don’t say anything.

Instead, you reach out, slowly, and rest your hand over hers where it grips the back of the couch. Her knuckles are cold. “I’m not clean either,” you whisper.

Emily laughs, just barely. A bitter, hollow thing.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s why I came.”

You make tea because it gives your hands something to do.

Emily doesn’t ask for anything, just sits on your couch like a houseguest in her own memory. Her damp hair clings to her neck. She hasn't looked at herself once since she walked in.

You hand her a mug. She holds it between her palms like an anchor.

“You remember the chapel?” she asks, eyes fixed on the window.

“Which one?” you say, already knowing.

“The one near Campo de Fiori. The blue ceiling. Gold trim. We used to sneak in after Latin class.”

“Right. The quiet one.”

“We called it the quiet one,” she murmurs. “But I think we were just quieter there.”

You sip your tea. That chapel. You do remember. You remember the air always smelled like lilies and burnt dust. You remember kneeling beside her, the way your pinkies would brush on the pew between prayers. You remember watching her mouth form words she didn’t believe.

“That’s where we kissed the first time.” She says it like she’s confessing.

You close your eyes. You haven’t thought about that night in years. Not consciously. But your body remembers: the rush of blood, the sharp panic, the taste of her lips and fear.

“We thought God would smite us,” you say.

“We were fifteen,” Emily replies. “Everything felt like damnation.”

She sets her tea down. Her hands are trembling. You pretend not to notice.

“I’ve thought about that night,” she says. “More times than I want to admit.”

You look at her. Really look. She’s not the girl you knew in Rome. But she’s not someone else, either. She carries the same ghosts. They just have new names now.“You disappeared after that.”

Emily nods. No excuse. Just acknowledgment.

“I wanted to believe I could scrub it out of me,” she says. “The desire. The guilt. I went to confession the next day. Told the priest I’d kissed someone I shouldn’t have.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked if it was a boy. I said yes.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Did it work?”

She stares at you, eyes rimmed red. “No. Of course it didn’t. I kissed you again two weeks later.”

“And then you left.”

Emily doesn’t answer. Instead, she leans forward, elbows on knees, fingers locked so tightly her knuckles pale. “When I got pregnant, I think I wanted it to be penance. Proof that I could be good. That I could do what they expected. But when I saw the ultrasound, I didn’t feel God. I didn’t feel redemption. I just felt scared.” You say nothing.“Matthew didn’t judge me,” she says. “He didn’t quote scripture. He just said, ‘You’re still you.’ And I wanted to believe him. But I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

You watch the way her voice thins.“And now?”

She shrugs.“Now I feel like a walking contradiction. Queer. Faithless. Ashamed. Still grieving something I chose.” She looks at you, finally, like the weight’s too much. “Do you ever stop being fifteen in your head?”

You don’t answer. You just reach across the space between you, take her hand, and squeeze. “No,” you whisper. “But you learn how to carry her.”

The snow has stopped. The window is rimmed with frost, and the city looks softer now, like it’s holding its breath.

Emily’s fingers twitch beneath yours, then settle. “I haven’t told anyone else,” she says.

“About the abortion?”

“About you,” she breathes.

You inhale. You don’t want it to hurt, but it does. Not because you thought she’d carried you with her all these years, but because she did, and kept it buried.

“You were the only thing I didn’t regret.” She says it fast, like if she says it slowly, it might come out differently.

You study her face — the dark circles, the scar near her hairline, the line between her brows that probably came from years of silence. You see the teenager underneath, still curled in on herself.

“I used to think it was my fault,” she says. “That I ruined everything. That I took something pure and twisted it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you tell her.

“I loved you,” she whispers. “I didn’t know what to call it then. I thought it was a sin. I thought God was watching.”

You nod. “He probably was.”

“Do you think He hated us for it?”

The question is so small. So sincere. “No,” you say. “But I think we hated ourselves enough that it didn’t matter.”

That breaks something in her. Not loud, not explosive, but soft, the way grief always returns. Her hand covers her mouth, and she leans forward, breath catching like she’s afraid to let it out.

You shift closer and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She presses her face to your neck, trembling, not sobbing but near it. A woman cracking open after decades of holding still.

“I’m tired of being ashamed,” she whispers into your skin.

“Then stop.”

“I don’t know how.”

You hold her tighter. “We start here. You say it out loud, and I stay. That’s how.”

She nods against you. Her breath is warm. Her voice, when it comes again, is steadier.

“I was fifteen. I kissed a girl in a church. I got pregnant.. I chose not to carry. I left everything that made me feel whole because I was told I wasn’t allowed to be.”

“Keep going.”

“I loved you. I still do. I’m not asking for anything, I just needed to say it somewhere that feels real.”

You lean back, tip her chin up with your hand. Her eyes are wet, but clear.

“This is real,” you say. “We’re not ghosts anymore.”

You don’t kiss her, not yet. That’s not what she needs. You just rest your forehead against hers and let her breathe.

“You didn’t lose your soul, Emily,” you murmur. “You just forgot you still had one.”

For a while, neither of you speaks.

“Do you still believe in anything?” she asks eventually, not looking at you.

You don’t answer right away. You think of how faith used to taste like incense and blood in the mouth. How guilt clung to everything. How you kissed her once in a cathedral and spent years repenting for it without knowing what you’d done wrong.

“I believe in choice,” you say finally. “I believe in second chances. In people being more than the worst thing they’ve survived.”

She looks up then, and her eyes are soft in a way you haven’t seen before. Raw, yes. But lighter.

“You should’ve been there,” she says, quietly. “At the clinic. I wanted you. I just didn’t think I deserved to want anything.”

You hold her closer to you. “You were fifteen. You deserved love, not punishment.”

“And now?”

“Now?” You squeeze her hand. “You still do.”

She nods. Blinks hard. “What now?”

“Now you drink your tea. You take a shower. You borrow some clothes, because I know you didn’t bring any. And then we talk about whatever version of God we can stand.”

She huffs a laugh. “What if I can’t stand any of Him?”

“Then we make something else. Something new.”

Emily breathes deep. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s start with that.”

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #divider by strangergraphics

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halemerry · 2 years ago

Text

On Crowley, memory, and identity.

So full disclosure first, I am not someone who is particularly interested in having Crowley's angel name on screen - personally I rather like the idea of never having an answer to this question - but I also do think it's interesting and fun to speculate and we got quite a few hints at this throughout this season soooo

Obviously part of this is that we meet him. The angel that would become Crowley is the first person on screen this season. We confirm a lot about him here. He confirm that he is powerful enough to start the engine of the universe. We confirm that he can control gravity and time and space and light. We confirm that he is the being that says let there be light before the beginning. We also confirm that he consulted with the concept designer of the universe and that he's very comfortable with the idea of questioning authority. We are also given Aziraphale's anxiety as a contrast to this and as proof that that is not a universal trait for early angels.

Now, we have always had evidence that Crowley is powerful. He's done some things that seem impossibly big. He stops time very casually and seemingly without effort - even at the end of season 1 it doesn't even seem to give us the same strain on him that holding the Bentley together does. This is a thing that we only ever see Crowley do and notably a thing that you would think other beings would mess with to their advantage if it was possible. Which means they either literally can't or that it never occurred to them that they could. Or as is becoming increasingly clear: perhaps it's a bit of both.

But that's not the only implication of power we get in season 1 either. We get Crowley seemingly in tune with the universe in a way many angels and demons aren't. Which, makes some sense if he helped make it. This manifests in all sorts of ways. He's constantly aware of Aziraphale's presence. He can smell when the world state changes like when Adam names Dog. He holds the Bentley together through utter destruction. He notices that there are different books in the bookshop - something I always assumed was meant to convey he was familiar with the shop's contents but after learning he didn't even know Jane Austen was a writer I wonder if it's actually more to do with him being in tune with reality. He also can apparently quite literally feel when there are eyes on them.

We're given even more of all these things this season in some really interesting ways. Crowley literally tests the air to check if a miracle has happened - another thing that we don't see anyone else do despite Heaven literally assigning someone to Aziraphale to check for a specific miracle. This particular beat is also something we are shown twice this season. Both here and in 1941, when Furfur uses the miracle blocker on Aziraphale. Here Crowley tests his miracles and despite getting nothing of the sort when Aziraphale tries a miracle literally the beat before this, we are given both a visual and an auditory effect. It ripples out with a watery sound effect from Crowley's finger. It's like he's prodding at reality.

There's also several instances involving the recognition or lack thereof of angels and demons. Crowley feels that the demon army is arriving before it does. Neither side seems to be able to track Gabriel - one of the most powerful beings in existence - at all once he leaves Heaven. We also see countless angels fail to notice Crowley himself both as Bildad the Shuhite performing literal miracles right in front of them. And this happens again as he prances about Heaven after Muriel. Aziraphale can't tell Shax is a demon despite Crowley recognizing she's manifested behind him nearly as soon as he answers the phone. Aziraphale can't even recognize that he himself is still an angel at the end of the Job story.

He also. Quite literally. Brings someone back from the dead???? Like waves a hand casually on the street and reconstitutes Mr. Brown like he'd never been dead at all. Mr. Brown returns with no memory of what happened to him holding a newspaper that seems to have literal bite chunks coming out of it. It's not framed as a huge miracle or anything strenuous either - just a casual snap.

And that's not even getting into the parallels with Gabriel. First of all. We get the color purple. It's purple when Aziraphale and angel that would become Crowley start the engine of the quadrants of the universe and it's purple when they miracle to hide Gabriel. This color is associated with power and, historically in the language of this show, with Gabriel himself. Them using it together twice speaks a lot to the power they have together.

But that's not the only symbolism historically tied to Gabriel that has found its way to Crowley this season either. Most flashy of all is the lightning. This is how we see Gabriel arrive on earth at the end of season one and it is something Crowley apparently just Does when he gets too mad to contain himself.

This alone wouldn't catch my attention except. Except the way Crowley reacts to Gabriel's memory problems is... interesting to say the least. He's angry and understandably so. Part of this is him being mad and protective of Aziraphale - he says as much himself to Jim directly. And yet, weirdly, it's the kind of mad that reminded me of something else.

This is the mad he tends to gets at his plants. Do it properly. Think hard. You can do better than that. Grow better. It's the kind of angry that's steeped in projection. It's he kind of angry that is undercut with the occasional weird undercurrent of understanding. And so much of his dialogue with Jim around this is framed like he does actually understand. Jim says it hurts and he says he knows. Jim starts talking about it feeling like being an empty house that still remembers where the furniture is and Crowley immediately latches onto this and understands ah it's looking at where the furniture isn't.

And there's a few other conversations that center around this issue that I find really interesting from a projection perspective. There's the conversation that happens when Crowley goes to have an alcohol fueled chat with Jim. He says "You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you wanted?" This doesn't make a whole lot of sense for him to be addressing Gabriel with. As far as he knows all Gabriel would want was the end of the world.

And then there's the particular way he asks Jim to eliminate himself in this scene. Climb out the window. In other words, have a fall. Something he pretty immediately retracts and clearly feels guilty about no matter how much he hates Gabriel.

And then there's the first conversation he gets to have after learning about Gabriel. Crowley opens this conversation, thinking out loud. He's staring out, not talking to Az yet and the very first thing out of his mouth is, of all things: "He's going to be okay." A weird start for a statement about Gabriel in itself but then Crowley goes and adds what at it's core is his own trauma narrative to the end with, "We can just take him somewhere and leave him there."

Now the real fun bit: Crowley also has memory issues that are out very prominently on display even as far back as season 1.

He has inconsistent memories of his Fall. The answers he gives us to why he Fell change slightly - even when he's alone with himself. He doesn't seem to understand why exactly he Fell even though he clearly has some vague idea of the pieces in play. I always thought to some degree that this was just a trauma response, but season 2 drew even more attention to this and now that we know that memory alteration is how Heaven handles powerful angels I can't help but to wonder if there's more in play here.

Crowley can't remember Furfur - who he apparently literally fought next to during the war in Heaven. Crowley can't remember building a nebula with Saraqael. Crowley doesn't remember why they decided gravity was a good idea.

But he does remember bits and pieces here and there. He remembers doing some of the starmaking. He remembers how to access clearance locked files. He's missing pieces and also seems to have an understanding that Gabriel's memories ARE in there. Almost like he's done this work on himself before.

This narrative itself is also far more concerned with the angel Crowley was this time around. It teases his rank a few different times. Most notably is him having access the files only available to Dominions and above.

Now angel hierarchy is a bit of a messy area depending on what sources you're using but given Good Omens tendencies in the past we can assume that this leaves us five ranks. Dominion, Throne, Cherub, Seraph, and Archangel.

I might break down why I think Dominion, Throne, and Cherub feel kind of odd to me later if there's interest - now available here - in that but given the current length of this meta I just want to focus on that last one for now.

Crowley was an Archangel is far from a new theory and I've honestly historically had some fairly mixed feelings about it. But the parallels between Jim and Crowley lend some interesting connective tissue to a lot of those theories. And. There's also some interesting camera work and script writing tied to Crowley and that term outside of the scenes about Gabriel's memories specifically.

Firstly, during Crowley's chat with Beelzebub he says it's a big universe with plenty of places for an archangel to hide. Like Alpha Centauri perhaps?

Then we get Aziraphale and Crowley both presenting Hell and Heaven respectively the idea that it could have been them that did the archangel class miracle. Aziraphale gets scoffed at and yet. Shax is the one who says the miracle was archangel level and Crowley's response is "how do you know I didn't do it?"

Then later as she's prowling about the shop we get this interesting shot of Crowley in the doorframe and Jim in the background. Crowley grins and offers to let Shax look in and see if she can see any archangels in there while he's framed dead center and Jim himself is blurry in the back of the frame.

And most fascinating in my opinion is this shot that happens when Crowley and Muriel are accessing the classified files. Nearly every shot in this sequence is group shots or shots of Gabriel. The camera is focused in the plot and the way the archangels function as a group and on Gabriel himself. But we get one single shot in this entire sequence of Crowley by himself and it is immediately following Gabriel saying "I am the only first order archangel in the room - or, well, the universe."

And then in the end. We get the Metatron who goes out of his way to avoid using Crowley's name. He calls him demon (and insists correctly that Crowley would recognize him even when Michael doesn't) or refers to him as Aziraphale's friend. He only ever uses that name when trying to use him as a bribe for Aziraphale. That combined with the dark look he gives Crowley implies a familiarity that only the Metatron has with him.

So who is he then? There's plenty of old meta out there about why certain archangels fit or don't and I won't reiterate them here. They're interesting and definitely worth poking around at and very fun to read! Personally I'm not as interested in naming the someone he used to be as I am in examining the places that ghost of this angel has started to poke through the narrative so I'll end this here. It's spiralled into something far longer than I ever meant it to be anyway.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens meta #Crowley #Gabriel

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 months ago

Text

Baby! Headcanons

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader (+ platonic ateez x reader)

Baby Series !

➯a/n: my hyperfixation on this au will not go away 😩😩😩 another chapter is coming soon but for now i just had to get these out of my brain and i wanted to try something a little different ! (members first, then mommy!hwa because there is wayyy more for him (duh lol))

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, headcanons

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatical correct, captivity, forced little space, talk of violence, anxiety, guilt, bribery, lima+stockholm syndrome, all the usual baby warnings, only briefly proof read

♫ Baby Playlist ♫

❝you're my baby, say it to me❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. everyone in this story needs therapy and LOTS of it.

MDNI.

✧JOONIE!✧SANGIE!✧YUYU!✧

✧joonie! gave up on telling you that you are pronouncing his name wrong a long time ago. he's already responding to "joonie" and if he's honest with himself... he thinks it's a little cute but-

✧joonie! is a little bit scared of you after you tricked mommy!hwa into hurting him (but he's forgiven you for that and you've probably forgotten all about it with everything else going on). he still gets the heebie jeebies when he feels you staring at him with your tiny death glare (that wooyoungie! taught you and is very proud of)

✧joonie! doesn't have anyone to talk to about this whole situation — the members, sure. but they need him to be strong and get you ALL through this. so he channels his emotions into writing and producing. ironically, those song are the ones that he goes least insane making but still end up being amazing

✧joonie! knows that you don't like him because he's mommy!hwa's best friend, and he's a-o-kay with that. it means he gets to keep his distance from you more than the members that you have a preference for

✧joonie! is the only member that mommy!hwa fully 100% trusts so unfortunately for the both of you, when your mommy is busy with an individual schedule — joonie! is your caretaker. but he doesn't like that, and neither do you. so you kind of just sit in the living room and do your own separate things. if its near bedtime, because mommy!hwa insists you always have a shower or bath before bed, joonie! lets you do it on your own. that little bit of freedom and dignity he gives you earns him some brownie points brownie crumbs and neither of you tell hwa when he gets back. an unspoken agreement of "you don't tattle and neither will i"

✧joonie! , also because he's mommy!hwa's best friend, he's less likely to be hurt in the line of fire (stuffed raccoon debacle aside). so he is one of the members that steps between you and hwa when he's being especially overbearing or strict or clingy and making you freak out

✧joonie! becomes your partner in the never ending tournaments of uno that move through the apartments and its one thing that you both bond over, you actually can have fun together. it makes mommy!hwa smile when he sees you both celebrating together, arguably the two most important people in his life finally getting along

✧yuyu! will always give you a piggy back ride when you ask him. so that you can feel big for a moment and joke about how strong you feel from "way up here !"

✧yuyu! sits next to you when you're looking particularly sad at the company building and opens up his phone, scrolling through tiktok and "accidentally" letting you watch with him

✧yuyu! is one of the main culprits of spoiling you, he can't help himself ! a combination of guilt and affection makes it hard not to. he will reach up into the closet and get the sweets box and share a candy bar with you and then tell mommy!hwa he took one cause he ran out in his apartment. he will ask you what kind of cartoon you're into at the moment and then immediately go online to find coloring books or stuffed animals of it

✧yuyu! lets you put your head in his lap and play on his phone when he's over, and mommy!hwa allows it as long as he puts a password on the social media and phone apps

✧yuyu! learns how to do hair so that you can have another person to ask besides mommy!hwa, and he's actually pretty dang decent and makes sure to be extra gentle

✧sangie! always comes out of nowhere and snatches you up with the excuse of "i'm babysitting! take a break, hyung!" when really — he knows YOU probably need a break from everything

✧sangie! lets you do anything you want (except leave, duh) when you're with him. want to watch a horror movie ? sure. want to eat junk food ? let him get it. want to scream and yell and punch his pillow ? he will let you vent all of your emotions without hovering over you like mommy!hwa does

✧sangie! can't look at you without wanting to break down and confess his sins to the nearest stranger, even after all this time. he still sees you as his friend, as the woman with a whole life outside of mommy!hwa... and that's not the case anymore. but he forces his feelings down his throat and he tries to keep true to his promise to make things slightly better for you

✧sangie! understood when you didn't look at him for a few weeks, he'd feel betrayed too — but then when he got over himself and drug you to his apartment for a break from mommy!hwa, he felt a bit relieved when you hugged him. and then that made him feel all sorts of messed up. he shouldn't be happy that you still had warmth in your heart for him, he should want you to be mad at him and remember how fucked up this is ! but then you started crying, and he did with you, and you both knew you were still something of "friends" and you cared for each other. he just happens to care for hwa and for his career more, and that's another thing he fights himself about

✧sangie! is afraid to stand up to mommy!hwa to his face, but he will do it to protect you. no matter how much he loves hwa, no matter how scared he is that the cover will be blown off this whole thing, he will not let mommy!hwa hurt you — not while he's around. his muscles aren't just for show

✧sangie! , after protecting you in the heat of the moment when mommy!hwa might have hurt you, has to deal with the confusing ass emotions that come with hwa saying that he's sorry and that he didn't mean to upset anyone. he wants to hug his hyung and tell him its okay; but it certainly is not

✧BIG BEAR!✧WOOYOUNGIE!✧

✧wooyoungie! treats you so sweetly when you're in little space — because you remind him of his little brother. he loves kids, and while you aren't reallyyyy a kid; you might as well be to him. he cant stand to see you sad, he will do everything in his power to get you to crack a smile. if you said you would smile if he walked across hot coals or did a handstand at the bottom of the ocean, he would do it for you

✧wooyoungie! lets you nap in his bed whenever you want, so you can get a few hours of shut eye without mommy!hwa's arms around you. if you're little, he'll tuck you in and give you a smile before closing the door behind him. if you're actually you and not the baby version of you, he wraps his arms around you as you vent your emotions and cries with you until you both fall asleep of exhaustion

✧wooyoungie! hates his hyung. well — more specifically, he hates what he's done. he still has... something in his heart for mommy!hwa. they've been through so much together and he will always be apart of him. but thinking about what he's done to you makes wooyoungie! sick. especially because his attachment to him made him be apart of it

✧wooyoungie! shows his anger with the man in ways that make it clear where he stands. he opens the door to the bedroom and tosses you some junk food; he cares about you. he does so while glaring daggers at mommy!hwa; he doesn't care about his rules. and then wooyoungie! starts "infecting my precious Baby with bad habits" (hwa's words, verbatim) by saying "i got it just because it reminded me of her ! let her have it just this once !" and gets you agreeing; "yeah, mommy ! he went out of his way ! it would be rude for me not to eat it ! you said i can't be rude !"

✧wooyoungie! does that at least once a month, despite his words of "just this once". he times it perfectly with when he realizes that you're needing a pick me up, when you want a way to disobey mommy!hwa without getting in trouble

✧wooyoungie! does art and crafts with you and ming! a lot, but also spends a good amount of time doing flash cards with you so that you don't forget things like math and "big girl" words

✧wooyoungie! lets you paint his nails and wears it around proudly, and you do the same for him — showing your mommy how well you both did with a smile so big that he can't even be jealous

✧big bear! is your (mostly) loyal guard dog ever since the beginning. whenever you are scared for any reason, be it mommy!hwa being angry or a thunderstorm or a nightmare, he will let you hide behind him and he won't let anything get close enough to touch you until you calm down

✧big bear! gives you the most gifts by faaar !! at least twice a week he's bringing you a snack, at least once a month he's bringing you a book to borrow, he's always giving you things to make you smile

✧big bear! helped you make a stuffed bear with a kit he got online, and he almost cried when you gave him the biggest hug ever while declaring its name to be "hoho"

✧big bear! gave you one of his shirts after you split something on yours while in his care and it quickly became your favorite sleep shirt (to mommy!hwa's dismay)

✧big bear! has very conflicting feelings about you from time to time, but he never shows them because he wants to be an ever present rock for you. its the least that he can do after being apart of this, really

✧big bear! is always the one that you go to when mommy!hwa is scaring you. he won't push hwa away or fight him, he just stands like an impenetrable wall between you until one of the others can get him to calm down; reaching back and holding your hand the entire time

✧big bear!, when he sees something winnie the pooh themed, has to get it for you. he always watches it with you, even if you've seen it a million times before. at least every few days, your head is in his lap as he plays a cartoon of the bear

✧SANNIE!✧

✧sannie! risks being caught every single day to tell you headlines in the hallway even after mommy!hwa told them not to let you read or listen to the news

✧sannie! , while you were forced to kneel facing the wall as a punishment, caved after the second day of seeing you there and would run over everytime mommy!hwa left the room to place his hands under your weight and give you a short break

✧sannie! likes to do things with you that are slightly less "baby", because he knows that you would (and do, when you're big enough to notice) appreciate it. an almost difficult puzzle, a scary kids movie, giving you a cup without a lid — the smallest things make a huge difference and he helps to keep you from breaking completely when he asks YOU what you want to wear whenever mommy!hwa is rushing and puts him and ming! in charge of getting you ready

✧sannie! still comes into hwa's room as much as he did before (now that he's come to terms with you being there). he'll flop on the bed with you both while you're watching videos, he'll sit on the play mats in the corner with you, he'll come bug hwa when he's trying to do laundry. and more often than not, when mommy!hwa is streaming, sannie! is in the corner with you to keep you quiet company

✧sannie! tries to protect you, in a different way than the others who are brave enough to get physical. he tries to keep things from escalating to the point where someone needs to step between you and mommy!hwa in the first place. like calming you down before hwa gets home or rubbing his arm to ground him before he snaps

✧sannie! calls you "peanut". he doesn't know why, and it doesn't really matter. all he knows is that it leaves a sour taste in his mouth when he refers to you as "baby" but calling you by your name doesn't feel right either

✧sannie! always saw himself having a daughter, and sometimes he finds himself thinking of you as such before he realizes how fucked that is. but still...

✧sannie! can't help but wipe your face if he notices something on it before mommy!hwa, or to hold your hand when you go down the stairs. his instincts kicked in when you dropped a plate while doing the dishes and he picked you up in a second flat so you couldn't step on any glass. he, like hwa, is almost supernatural when it comes to his "baby senses" only he calls it "peanut senses". sannie! can be across the apartment and then- "my peanut senses are tingling" and he's running to help with whatever's got you upset

✧sannie!, when push comes to shove, will still ultimately end up shoving you. no matter how much he cares for you and wants the best for you and doesn't want you to become a shell of your former self and thinks of you as a child — he won't ever put you before mommy!hwa, before their career and livelihoods. and that messes with him deeply. he knows that it shouldn't be the case. he does have sympathy for you. but when his mind is telling him to just take your hand and lead you away from this cage of an apartment; his body won't move no matter how hard he tries

✧sannie! broke down crying the second he saw his parents when he went to visit them; crying like its the end of the world type of crying. when he finally caught his breath and they asked him what's wrong, the only excuse he could come up with was that he missed them because;

✧sannie! couldnt very well tell them that he was partially responsible for holding a missing woman captive in his apartment and might be developing lima syndrome because he found himself patting your cheek affectionately before he left

✧MING!✧

✧ming! , as someone once said, is the caretaker that baby really deserves. he babies you in a way that's not suffocating (cough cough mommy!hwa cough) and he provides you with every possible ounce of comfort you could ever need — which is what little space should be; a place of comfort

✧ming! , when given the chance, always asks what YOU want ! just like sannie! he wants to give you at least a bit of choice. if its his turn to be in charge of food, "what do you feel like ?" if its movie night, "what kind of genre are you into today, shortcake ?" always, he's asking you

✧ming! always keeps his door open so that you can come to him to get away from mommy!hwa, even if it's just for a minute. and so that he can hear if you call for him, be it for help or to play or literally anything; he'll be running at the sound of your voice

✧ming! plays games with you at least once a day, every day, without fail ! uno, go fish, checkers, tick-tack-toe, battleship, if you can get your hands on it — you have played it at least once with your best friend ming!

✧ming! loves to do arts and crafts with you, you've both amassed a large tote of supplies neatly tucked away in the corner of his room. he won't tell anyone, especially not mommy!hwa lest he get jealous, but he keeps a little finger painted heart in his wallet that has your finger print as a signature

✧ming! , who's special talent is "sleeping", always takes naps with you; you are each others personal teddy bears ! wether its on the couch where you are sprawled ontop of him, in you and hwa's bed where ming! is the biggest little spoon ever, or in his where you curl up so small that its almost hard for mommy!hwa to spot you between being held in ming!'s arms and essentially buried in the blanket

✧ming! can tell when you're about to have a panic attack, and you can tell when he is too. you're both absolute wrecks and you can read each other, because you're two pages in the same book. not a word has to be spoken as he places a hand on your head to ground you, or as you grab his sleeve to pull him back to the present

✧ming! , because of your shared anxiety, acknowledges it and takes care of it the best he can; especially when mommy!hwa isn't around to do it. even when he is, he lets the two of you help each other. rubbing knots from one another's shoulders from the ever present tension, holding hands backstage when things are moving a million miles per second, coloring on the floor in complete silence to take time to digest the day — mommy!hwa wont take away his dear friend and his precious baby's comfort

✧ming! has connected to you in a way that none of the others have or ever could. because he, in a way, knows what it feels like to be mommy!hwa's baby. he doesnt age regress or anything like that, but in their early days he always needed more comfort and support than the others — and hwa took care of him. mingi! knows the pain you must be feeling when torn between wanting to bask in mommy!hwa's attention and sweetness, and wanting to disappear when he looks at you with a disappointed or angry face

✧ming! tried to help you escape and got caught red handed, looking in your eyes as he did so. both of those things sent mommy!hwa into a fit of rage and poor ming! got the crap beat out of him but that didn't stop him from sitting beside you the next day and holding your hand under the table because...

✧ming! is your ride or die

✧MOMMY!HWA✧

✧mommy!hwa keeps all of his promises !! no matter how insignificant or silly they seem, he will never break a promise he makes to his baby. never taking your comfort items (we see how that panned out when he thought joonie! did), never touching you without your consent, "i promise i won't let you go hungry again" and he won't !

✧mommy!hwa carries around your favorite snacks just incase you get hungry at the company or while waiting for them to finish their performances

✧mommy!hwa actually carries an entire bag ! your favorite pacifier at the moment, a few different snacks, chapstick, headphones in case things get too loud, fidget toys, honestly he has thought of everything. he's like mary poppins sometimes — you all need some hand sanitizer before you eat ? wham ! mommy!hwa already has it out. "are you crying baby-ya ?" bam ! mommy!hwa has the travel sized tissues out in a second flat and cleans you up no problem. one of the members aching ? ming!'s back hurting ? your foot acting up ? oh, wait a second- guess what ? boom ! here's some tylenol and icyhot, curtesy of mommy!hwa's paranoid nature and need to be prepared for anything

✧mommy!hwa reallyyyyyy thought about banning you from watching music videos after you watched "seventeen" videos for your entire hour of screen time. he can't help if he got jealous ! but when you started singing quietly to your stuffed raccoon "scoups", he knew he couldn't take that away from you

✧mommy!hwa absolutely adores all of your art. even if you aren't very talented; painting and drawing and coloring are things you can always do (because they don't require an internet connection or anything sharp enough to hurt yourself with) so he has an entire shoe box full of your creations — all neatly folded and placed with care

✧mommy!hwa hates leaving you for any reason whatsoever, he will jump through hoops and do backflips and walk on his hands if it means you're waiting for him when he's done doing whatever it is that's got him away from you in the first place. if you're in the van outside, backstage, down the hall when he's recording, it doesn't matter as long as he can run to you at a moments notice

✧mommy!hwa has gone on stage with slightly smudged lipstick a few dozen times because — before any performance, no matter how big or small, he kisses you like it's the last chance he'll ever have to. cause in his mind, maybe it is

✧mommy!hwa loves picking your clothes out and doing your hair and overall taking care of you, he gets a sense of accomplishment after he gets you ready for the day and then again when he gets you ready for bed

✧mommy!hwa learns soooo much just to take care of you better. how to cook more meals so you can have a balanced diet, how to properly tend to injuries, ect ect. if you have a disability or disorder, he researched the fuck out of it and has asked you every question he could possibly think of. if you're on medication, suddenly he is too after he slides an envelope to a doctor (yeah, he bribed them to prescribe him your medicine, he isn't above that. he isn't above anything when it comes to you)

✧mommy!hwa loves your hair. he loves washing it, playing with it, styling it. he loves it. if you like to keep it short, he learns how to cut hair. if you have curly hair, he learns how to take care of it. you like dyeing it, he can do that too ! he puts cute clips in your hair almost every day and kisses your head when he's done, saying how adorable you are

✧mommy!hwa, even when he's exhausted from nonstop practice, sets aside time to stretch and exercise with you so you can stay active

✧mommy!hwa loves singing to you, he's fangirling over you when you start swaying lightly to his voice, he's almost flying ! he would sing until his throat was bleeding if you asked him to, but you're satisfied with asking him to sing your favorite disney songs

✧mommy!hwa worships his baby, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't want you to become spoiled either. you can have anything in the world (save for freedom or autonomy) but you only get it if you do what he asks — and honestly, mommy!hwa doesnt ask a lot

✧mommy!hwa has a spreadsheet on the fridge for who does what chores around the apartment each week and your name only ever has a few. the dishes, help him fold clothes, pick up your things. he wants you to have the same sense of accomplishment and purpose he gets from taking care of you and your home

✧mommy!hwa tries to make sure the punishment always fits the crime. he isn't cruel (on purpose) ! looking at someone in the eyes ? into the corner you go, if you can't keep your eyes where they belong — you shouldn't look at anything, actually ! throwing things ? say goodbye to them for a while while they visit the top of the closet. if you can't respect your things, you don't deserve them (save for scoups and hoho, who he promised he would never take). tried to run away ? have fun trying to walk.

✧mommy!hwa gets... scary when he's mad. he's an entirely different person when you try to escape or someone pushes him past his limits. not a single trace of his usual soft and nurturing self as he set things straight

✧mommy!hwa always ''makes up'' for it, though ! depending on how bad you've been, he might take a little longer to cool down before coming back and comforting you but he will never ever everrrrr dish out a punishment without taking care of the aftermath

✧mommy!hwa has an almost supernatural sense for when you're upset or acting out, it's weird ! when you were talking with yeosang and casually dropped the word "hate", NOT EVEN REFERRING TO A PERSON MIND YOU, he whipped around at the other side of the room ready to discipline you

✧mommy!hwa also uses his "baby senses" to try to stop your tears before they even start, holding you extra gentle and whispering extra sweet words when he can tell you're about to breakdown

✧mommy!hwa wears a lot of fluffy sweaters because you like to play with and feel the fabric and he takes every single touch he can get

✧mommy!hwa wakes you up every morning the same way. after admiring you for a moment; making sure he's not dreaming, a soft rub on your back and a gently spoken "rise and shine, baby"

✧mommy!hwa lets you pick from the sweets box after a hard meltdown. he knows he shouldn't associate bad feeling with things that make you happy, but after you have a particularly rough time he can't help himself !! the tiny smile you give him is worth it

✧mommy!hwa's camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of you and the members (mostly you, you and ming! playing games, you getting carried on yuyu!'s back, sannie! wiping your tears after a sad movie, you sleeping, you in the corner of the practice room coloring, you— you get the point). wether or not you're aware he's taking it, he's going to do it regardless. some of his favorites have been taken when you had absolutely no idea

✧mommy!hwa cried the first time you said "i love you" to him first, and he repeated it over and over while he kissed every inch of your face

✧mommy!hwa raaarely initiates anything sexual with you, but when you do; he can't deny you ! he makes sure to show all of his love when you ask for it, because he has just so so so much stored up

✧mommy!hwa needs you like he needs air ! he seriously has no idea what he would do without you, that's why he can never let you go. he would rather first die than to ever sleep without you in his arms again;

✧mommy!hwa lets you bite, kick, scream, cry, whatever you need to do to wear yourself out when you don't want to lay with him. you will be sleeping in his arms. bedtime is the the only time you won't get in trouble for putting up a fight, because he knows all it does is make you tired enough to give in

✧mommy!hwa is an excellent liar, its almost scary how easy he lies to everyone but you. cops, fans, strangers, other idols, even family. he has zero problem coming up with a lie on the spot but when he looks at you its like he's been injected with truth serum. no matter what he's trying to hide from you, it comes out the second he looks at you; "i'm an idol", "i killed your ex", "i accidentally ripped your blanket in the dryer", "i had a dream about you" anything and everything comes tumbling out

✧mommy!hwa has killed for you and he has no problem doing so again. if someone manages to hurt you while you're in his care, they will not see the light of another day. it doesn't matter who, if they cross you he will set it straight. his baby will always come first, he's made it painfully clear. when he thought joonie! took your stuffed animal, for example. even his best friend doesn't get a pass. nothing fucks with his baby

✧mommy!hwa calls you his sweet girl, precious, starlight, sweetpea, little angel, baby doll — literally every sweet pet name under the sun has left his lips when referring to you. but above all, you're always and forever "My Baby"

#ateez #park seonghwa #yandere ateez x reader #yandere ateez #yandere park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa au #ateez seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #yandere fic #seonghwa fanfic #ateez fic #baby series

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aothotties · 1 year ago

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Sneaky Link w/ Connie

Warnings: MDNI, jealousy, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, hickies, not proof read :)

Word Count: 1257

_______

Once Connie turned 18, he packed up and moved out of his parents home. He wasn’t forced to do it, he’s just always wanted to do his own thing.

He moved in with his boys, started a small business with them too, and even decided he really fucks with tattoos.

That is where he met you, his own personal tattoo artist. You’ve done all of his body art since he first started coming into your shop and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Deep down inside, he knew he had feelings for you when y’all first met, but Connie doesn’t “do” feelings.

Now Connie has never been afraid of anything, but when it comes to you, this man is fucking petrified. He’ll never show it, but you make his heart race like it never has before, of course he can’t tell you that though since he has an “image” to keep up.

Luckily, it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. You can’t deny that he’s attractive, got a great personality and a dick that will fuck you into next week. It’s just that neither one of y’all know how to properly express your feelings.

One thing about Connie though, is that if he wants something he’s going to get it no matter what. He just has to figure out how to get you all to himself.

His original plan was to walk into the shop and just ask you out, something he’s never done before with anyone. That is until he steps in the shop and sees one of your other clients making you laugh as hard as he normally does. He can’t explain why, but a feeling of anger washes over him.

You and your client look towards the door, you give Connie your pretty smile that makes him weak in the knees and tell him you’ll be with him in a minute. He nods and goes to sit in your office, staring down the man you’re currently working with.

He tries to distract himself on his phone, but his attention is back on you when you laugh at something your client says. He rolls his eyes and thanks the gods above when you both walk towards the register.

“Alright, you can slide, insert, or tap your card right here.” You turn the Ipad around and wait for him to complete his payment.

You turn and give Connie a small wave, he returns the gesture and stands up from his seat and makes his way over to you.

“Perfect, is there anything else I can help you with?” You ask and he gives you a sweet smile.

“If you really want to make my night, you can come home with me.” He leans on the counter and waits for an answer from you.

At this point Connie is a few steps away from throwing this man through the front door. He stays silent and waits for your response.

You smile sweetly and place a hand on top of his, Connie rolls his eyes once again and crosses his arms over his chest.

“That’s really sweet, but I’m not looking for anything serious at the moment.”

This time Connie’s eyes lock in on you as he takes your words into consideration. Has he been wrong about your feelings for him this entire time?

“Such a shame, a pretty girl like you should be tied down by now. Have a goodnight sweetheart.” The man kisses the back of your hand and finally exits the shop.

“Sorry that took so long, Antonio is a talker.” You apologize and lock the front doors once you’re sure nobody else is inside.

“Yeah I can see that.” He sits on the stool behind the register and pulls you in close to stand between his legs.

“How was your day?” You ask him, rubbing your hands along his broad shoulders.

“Fine, then I came to see my girl and it got better.” He responds and rubs his hands along the curves of your body.

“Ah I see, I’m your girl now?” You raise an eyebrow and look down at him.

He scoffs and leans back so he’s resting against the counter behind him.

“Shit, haven’t you always been?” He mindlessly shrugs his shoulders and this time you give him a chuckle.

“You’re funny Connie.” You remove yourself from his hold and walk to the office to count the change.

Connie watches you walk off and chuckles at your comment. He’s the funny one, yeah okay.

“Am I still funny now baby?” He asks you with a smirk on his face and his cock buried deep inside of you.

You let out a moan in response to his question and he pulls all the way out in return.

“Connie!” You exclaim, reaching for him as he backs away.

“I asked you a question, am I still funny to you?” He grunts, pushing all the way back into your aching cunt.

“Fuck! N-no, ‘m sorry papi.” You throw your head back and he takes that as an invitation to suck hickies on your skin.

You tighten around his dick when his lips make contact with your skin and he bites down on your neck.

“C-cumming! Please don’t stop!” You grab his arms tightly and arch your back off the desk as your orgasm courses through your body.

“There we go pretty girl, keep your eyes on me.” He leans down and presses his forehead against your own.

You let out a small gasp at the cool feeling of his necklace on your chest. He bites down on your bottom lip and slowly rolls his hips.

“You’re such a pretty girl, maybe I should be the one to tie you down, hm?” He takes your ear lobe between his teeth and bites down gently.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your nails dig into the skin on his back. You nod your head at his question and he smiles against your skin.

“Say you’re mine. I want to hear you say it.” He sits back and pushes your legs up to your chest.

He resumes the speed of his hips and you grab the sides of the desk below you.

“I-I’m yours!” You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a mantra of high pitched moans as he continues to bully your cunt.

“That’s a good girl, f-fuck you’re all mine.” His thrust gradually get rougher and tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

He completely folds you in half and pistons his hips in and out of you at a rapid pace, you scream into your hand as you gush around his cock.

Your mouth is wide open, yet no sound is able to come from it. Your toes curl as the shockwaves of your orgasm travel through your body.

“Awe poor thing, cats got your tongue?” He grabs your cheeks and smashes his lips against yours messily.

Your lips fall open as his pelvis grinds against your clit, he sucks on your bottom lip and chuckles.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me come baby!” He fucks into you a few more times before he pulls out and comes all over the tattoo on your lower abdomen.

“You okay sweetheart?” He grabs some napkins from your desk and begins to clean you up.

“Y-yeah most definitely.” You give a thumbs up and he plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You can tell Antonio you’ve been tied down.” He whispers in your ear and you roll your eyes at your boyfriend.

Ari

#aot smut #aot x black reader #aot scenarios #aot x reader #aot imagines #connie x reader smut #connie x reader #connie x black reader

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assassinnumber9 · 2 years ago

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TwiYor's Love Languages

So as you guys may or may not know, a little over a year ago I published a fanfic on Archive of Our Own called Loid Forger is NOT A Cuddler, which is basically just 5 chapters (so far) of Loid cuddling and denying it.

It's practically an essay for how his love language is physical touch.

And while I do like to joke about how Loid Forger is a cuddler and whatnot because of my fanfic and headcanon, this most recent manga chapter of Spy x Family gives me a perfect opportunity to talk about this headcanon and why it's in line with Twilight's character as well as Yor's own love language and how they relate.

We'll look at the obvious and pretty much explicitly stated first.

Yor's Love Language: Acts of Service

As previously mentioned, she basically says it outright. Her growing feelings toward Loid are much more obvious than his, and so it's easy to point out that her wanting to help him and have him rely on her is both a way for her to care/love him outwardly and a way for her to know he's accepting of that love.

I think Loid being the one to rely on her also makes her feel even more loved/trusted/confident, because Loid Forger is just so perfect at anything and everything he tries. From the outside, he really doesn't need any sort of help from anyone.

And, Twilight would likely agree. He's confident in his abilities and doesn't seem to want help from anyone as far as we've seen. The only missions he shares are the ones where more than one person is really needed.

Fiona could be potentially seen as someone he accepts help from, except that her help is more of an employee to an employer (or inferior to superior in their case.

And Franky... acts almost like a brother to Twilight? So like, they just force each other to help. Neither of them are accepting any kind of help, just going, "You're doing this."

All this to say that Yor is the only one that Twilight accepts and asks for help from. In the latest chapter, we see Twilight is comfortable enough to ask her.

And, she's ecstatic at hearing him ask for it.

She gets to finally show her love the way she knows how - the way she showed Yuri during her childhood.

Now for Loid Forger, rather Twilight.

Twilight's Love Language: Physical Touch

So far in the story, we have not seen much in terms of love when it comes to Twilight.

Emotions, and love especially, are weaknesses for spies unlike assassins, where emotions and attachments can be seen as strengths. Both fight for their respective loved ones, but the former has to do so hidden under a mask without being caught and the other is able to outwardly express these protective instincts through their actions (assassinations).

So, Twilight, like the great spy he is, hides his love.

You could possibly argue his love language is the same as Yor's (acts of service), but his acts are to keep her happy to ensure she stays with him (ie actually for the mission).

He also seems to give words of affirmation as well, but he only does so when he needs to provide them.

Gifts and Quality time can also be crossed out, because we don't really see him giving Yor gifts and we haven't seen him really go "I need to be with Yor more" yet. The only time we ever saw him think of her when they weren't together was during the cruise arc. But that’s not enough solid evidence for that specific one yet.

Also keep in mind that we haven't seen him express any of these languages to anyone else either.

There is one language we do have solid proof for, and of course that's physical touch.

While no, it's not proof that features Yor or even Anya.

We both hear and see it when it comes to his mother.

He explicitly states that he loved being held by her.

While this story was meant to show his mother's strength as a person, it confirms that loving physical touch was a large part of his childhood

Because he remembers it

Twilight remembers loving being held by her.

He can't remember her face, or his father's face, and is even flustered and confused after his PTSD flashback when he was unconscious. His memories are covered in trauma, and I believe one of the only reasons why he can remember what his friends looked like are because he saw them later in life.

It's hinted that he remembers very little of his childhood - likely due to the trauma.

But his mother holding him stayed with him.

Physical touch was an influential thing during his childhood.

Like Yor's love language during hers.

I would really like to believe that we'll see him learn to love touch again when he finally learns to accept his emotions, and in turn, his "weaknesses" (which will likely be turned to strengths).

And Yor being strong, a trait he remembers of his mother, only strengthens my theory that he'll learn to love physical touch again.

Because, he'll once again be able to know that everything is fine when he's holding her - just as he felt with his mother.

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #twilight #spyxfamily #twiyor #loid x yor #loiyor #loid forgerisms #sxf chapter 86 #sxf spoilers #sxf #sxf theory #love langauges

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gh0stw1f3 · 2 years ago

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Lessons (Carl Grimes x Reader - Smut)

WARNINGS: Carl cheating on Enid, Fingering, Oral on both sides, Penetration, Head-pushing, Spelling and Grammar mistakes, Not proof-read

Small Summary: Carl asking reader for advice on how to have sex for the first time for Enid. She does more than give him advice, she shows him.

3,791 WORDS

You rested your back against the soft fabric couch as you flipped your fingers through a book, your only source of entertainment. Everyone else was asleep but you.

You closed your book when you heard a knock on the door. The house you lived in was one in Alexandria. Carol lived there with you too but tonight she was on watch duty. Opening the door, you saw Carl. His eyes looking down and twiddling with his thumbs.

“Hey Carl, what are you doing up so late?” you wondered as he came in, closing the door behind him. He sat down on the couch with you.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something…” he rested his hands down on his lap, not knowing what to do with them due to his nervousness.

“Alright… go ahead, kid,” you were interested. What could he want this late? And why is he so nervous? It caught your attention.

“This might be weird but um… Enid wants to take our relationship to the next level,” he hid his face by looking down at his busted shoes.

“Next level? Like what? You guys gonna get married like Glenn and Maggie,” you got slightly excited to the idea of a new marriage.

“No, well I don’t know… not yet.”

“Ooohh so it’s gonna happen, huh? You sly dog,” you teased him while elbowing his arm.

“No! I mean… we haven’t known each other for long…”

“Neither did Glenn and Maggie but they’re made for each other,” you loved their relationship. You thought it was cute. Calling each other “wife” and “husband” although they weren’t officially married.

“Anyway… she wants to h-have ermm…” he paused, looking at you to try and read your expression. “s-sex,” he whispered.

“Oh. Wow. So what are you doing here for? Go have fun with your lil’ girlfriend,” you pointed out the door.

“About that, I don’t really know… anything about doing uh sex,” he flicked his hat. “I know the basics, like how people like getting umm licked down there and inserting stuff into um places but I want to make sure she has a good time…”

“So you want me to give you advice?”

“Yeah…” You sinked back down into the couch, thinking about it.

“Why’d you come to me to ask about that?” you turned your head to face the blushing boy.

“Well, I know you won’t judge me… and you give good advice.” he started to gain more confidence, knowing that your chill with the idea.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.” You were only a couple years older than Carl. But you had experience. You had multiple boyfriends during the apocalypse. And of course you did it with them. Who doesn’t need a little relief during such a horrible time?

“Please try,” he put a hand on your knee. His eyes full of desperation. You looked at the hand on your knee then back at Carl, realizing his beauty.

“Why don’t me and you… do it then,” the moment you realized the surprise of his expression, you started babbling. “J-Just to teach you! And It’ll be a one time thing! We won’t tell ANYONE,” you flung your hands around.

Carl sat quiet. Looking down at his boots again, thinking about it. He turned his head, looking at you. You stood up straight, nervous for the first time around Carl. “Just… one time,” he folded his fingers to form a one. “ To teach me.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.”

“Okay… yeah. So, what do I do first?” he sat criss-cross on the couch, facing you entirely.

“Well, you kiss her first,” you then took Carl’s hand and put it against your cheek. “You hold her face gently,” you pressed and gently rubbed your cheek against his hand. Carl started to turn red. “Then both of you lean in.”

You and Carl inched closer. Your lips brushing against each other. “Then you press your lips against hers, slowly. Then build up into a deep kiss. Using your tongue gently.” Carl hesitated but you kissed him first. He kissed you back, slowly starting to get into it. You then opened your mouth, sliding your tongue slowly into Carl’s mouth. Your jaw moving in sync with your deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him deeper into your mouth. Carl slowly slid his tongue into your mouth this time.

You moaned into the kiss, pressing your body against his. You took his hands and moved them to your waist.

“Don’t be afraid to touch her… or me,” you separated your lips. Creating distance between the two of you, you moved back and rested your back against the armrest of the couch.

“W-What what are we doing now?” he sat with his hands between his legs like a puppy.

“I’m going to teach you how to undress a woman,” you said before pulling him by his collar so he was between your legs as you sat.

“U-Undress you? I t-think I already know how to undress…”

“Yes, you can undress yourself but what about another person. You know how to undo a bra?” You asked. He shook his head. Carl scooched closer to you with his back straight. “C’mon, undress me.”

“Are you sure… you’re okay with me seeing you with umm no clothes on?” You nodded. “Okay…” he pulled the ends of your shirt. You lifted your arms so it was easier for him to take it off. Lifting the shirt up slowly, he put it gently against the table.

“Now… unclip my bra,” you said as you leaned your torso forward so his head was on your shoulder, looking at your back. “So, you see the clasps? You have to push them together, then push the right strap over the other one.”

Carl stuck his tongue slightly out his lips, trying to get it. “It’s okay if you don’t get it the first time. It was hard for me to do when I got my first bra,” you reassured him.

After a few tries and a little help, he got it unclasped. You held the bra in place, waiting for him to look at you. When he went back to his previous position, you let the bra fall from your shoulders. Carl immediately looked away, nervous. “Hey… Hey. Don’t be nervous. Give me your hand,” he did as you said and put his hand on yours. “Now, it’s okay to look. Just don’t compare mine to Enids. It’s disrespectful.” He nodded as he turned his head to look at your breasts. The red on his face returning. “Make sure you compliment her but you HAVE to mean it.”

“Like… ‘you have nice boobs’?” you chuckled at his response.

“You could say that. But something less… vulgar is better. Like ‘your body is beautiful’” his hand twitched against your grasp. “Are you ready to touch them?” you held his hands, inches away from your chest. “I’ll show you how to massage and treat them,” he nodded. You placed his hand on your breast. “You can squeeze but never to hard,” you took a peak to his groin and noticed his growing bulge. He sinked his fingers into your boob, squeezing them gently. The touch making you squirm. “You can massage them and squeeze their nipples but never too hard,” he gulped before gently kneading your breasts while squeezing your nipple with his other hand.

“Use your mouth.”

“My mouth?!”

“Mhm, you can lick, suck, and bite my nipples. BUT if you’re gonna bite be gentle. VERY gentle. Like a lil’ nibble,” you chuckled. He leaned it slowly as you took his hat and put it aside. He opened his mouth and surrounded your nipple with his lips. He gently nibbled on it, like you said. It sent a jolt down to your pussy.

“Just like that, Carl. You’re doing so good,” you run fingers through his long hair. His cock twitched to your praise. You felt his soft tongue against your nipple as he left kitten licks. As he sucked on your nipple, you were reminded of something.

“Carl,” he looked up at you through his lashes as he continued. “Do you know how to leave a hickey?” He removed his mouth from your chest, the cold breeze making them harder. He shook his head. You pointed to spot, just above your nipple. “Put your mouth here and suck. It’ll leave a bruise but it won’t hurt me. Unless you suck really hard.”

“Why would I leave a bruise on you?” he asked, confused.

“It’s sort of like… marking whats yours. But for now, it’s just for teaching,” he put his lips on the spot you pointed at and sucked. “Not for too long now,” as he finished bruising your skin, he gave it a kiss before stepping back to look at his accomplishment.

“Did… that hurt?” you looked down at your chest and caressed the bruise.

“No, you’re being so gentle with me, Carl,” you brought him closer and kissed him on his cheek. He chuckled quietly.

“One more thing before we get to the actual umm penetration,” Carl was still nervous. He knew what was coming next. “Take of my pants…” Carl blushed extremely but he did as told. He sat back and grabbed the top of your sweats. You lifted your legs up on his shoulders as he took them off. He stared at your panties. At their black lacey trim.

“Do you… always wear underwear like these?” he pulled at his collar.

“They’re cute, right? I’m happy to finally show them to someone,” you giggled. “But you can look at them more when they’re off my body,” you teased. His expression amusing. He put his fingers through the top of your panties this time, seeing his fingers through the lace. He slowly pulled them down.

“Not every vagina looks the same, so don’t be surprised if hers looks different than mine. And again don’t compare,” you reminded. He stared at your pussy, his hands rested on your thighs. You spread your legs, giving him a better view. You spread your lips, putting your finger to your clit.

“This… This is my clit. Some guys aren’t able to find it. But it’s here,” his eye darting to it. You took his hand and looked at his eye. You caressed his fingers before inserting them inside your mouth, his face in shock. His fingers became slick with your saliva as you wrapped your tongue around his fingers, separating them with your tongue. You gave them a kiss before leaving the grasp. “Use these to rub my clit,” you whispered, referring to his fingers. His breath was shaky.

He snaked his hand down to your clit, eyeing it to make sure he was doing it.

“How do I um… rub it?” he asked, his fingers grazing over your sweet spot.

“Okay, so the clit is the sweet spot. It has a lot of nerves. You can rub it a lot of ways. But the common way is in a circular motion,” you sounded like a sex-ed teacher. Carl looked at you then back at your pussy. He leaned in close, so his face was inches from yours but he still had a good view of what he was doing.

He pushed down on your clit, gently. Rubbing it in the motion you described. You sat up straight, the pleasure causing random squirms through out your body. Carl focused his eyes on your face. The redness of your cheek and the pleasure in your eyes. He liked it. He liked making you feel good. Makes him feel accomplished. He slammed his lips against yours. Kissing you on his own. His deep kissing that he learned from you. You whimpered against his lips, his tongue roaming your mouth as he rubbed you in circles faster. He let go, giving you a moment to breathe.

“F-Finger me,” you panted. Carl was excited. He ran fingers through your pussy, finding your hole. He paused for a moment, waiting for your instructions. “Go on, put it in,” he followed. You breathed as his finger hits your depths. “Y-You feel that soft part of flesh towards my pussy?” Carl nudged his finger against it, making you to let out a small moan. “That’s the g-spot. It’s also a sweet spot. Keep pushing your finger against it.”

He repeatedly kept hitting your g-spot. You moaned harder than before. Your breath repeatedly going in and out with whimpers. “Fuck… Carl,” you rubbed his cheek. He kissed your palm as you slowly pushed your head back. He pushed his palm against your clit, the rhythm of his fingers moving with his palm. You flung your head back to place. “W-What are you doing?” you breathed between words.

“It doesn’t feel good?” he paused for a moment. You put your hand on his wrist.

“No, keep going… I just didn’t expect that,” you bit your lip, desperate for his touch. “But I still have another thing to show you,” you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down so he was laying face to face with your vagina.

You spread your lips again. “I want you to suck it… like you did with my tits,” you demanded as you squeezed one of your breasts.

“H-How?” he took in the sight of how wet you were, seeping down your thighs.

“Lick and suck my clit.”

He breathed against your clit before making contact with his mouth. When you felt his slimy hot tongue rub against your clit as he sucked, you held on to the headrest of the couch. He flicks his tongue up and down while gripping your thighs.

“God, Carl. Enid’s one lucky girl,” you put your hand to the back of his head. He wasn’t thinking of Enid until you reminded him. He was just thinking of you. Making you feel good. He wondered why he didn’t come to you sooner.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue, his eye focused on yours. You thrust your hips against his mouth. He put his mouth, focused on your clit. Sucking and licking over your folds. Your moans were getting louder. You squeezed his head with your thighs as you gripped his hair, making it messy. Carl brought both of his hands under your thighs so he could lick you deeply, pushing your pussy against his mouth. Your face was red and sweaty with your mouth gaping open, letting out every huff. Carl closed his eyes, passionately making out with your pussy as he slowly grinded his hips against the cushion below him, trying to get his hard-on to calm down.

You whimpered in confused when he stopped. “What… what’s wrong?” Carl got up and kissed you. You could taste yourself through his lips.

“Please help me with this,” he pleaded as he gripped his bulge. You blushed profusely. You pushed a flat palm on his chest causing him to fall back on the couch.

“Alright, let’s focus on you,” you smirked as you sat him up to remove his plaid jacket. His body was warm. You pulled off his white shirt after. He shivered under the sudden coldness but as you pressed your naked body against his, kissing him, he managed to get warmer. You placed your hand on his chest. You finished the kiss, trailing your kisses from his neck, torso, and now v-line.

You gripped the sides of his torso as you rubbed your face against his bulge. You took off his pants, gripping his boxers at the same time so they came off together.

When you saw his cock, you were a bit in shock. You haven’t seen a dick in a while and seeing Carls sent electricity through you. You pressed your lips against it as it rested towards your face. Carl let out a shaky breath. You stuck out your tongue, leaving kitten licks on his shaft.

Kissing the tip of his cock, you licked away his precum before putting your whole mouth on his dick. Your tongue licking his tip while you sucked. His cock was swollen against your mouth. Carl moaned, his hand moving to grip your hair gently. You sucked his cock deeper, nearly feeling his balls against your chin. You bobbed your head up and down when suddenly his grip tightened and he took control of your pace. He pushed your head all the way deep, hitting the back of your throat. You flung back, coughing slightly.

“Listen, be careful with your headpushes. Some girls don’t fuck with it,” you warned before going down on him again.

“Do you?” he asked, his breath hitching. You giggled while his cock was in your mouth.

“Mhmm,” you cooed. Carl sat up and started gently rubbing your head. As you bobbed your head up and down, Carl shoved your head deeper into his dick. He caught you by surprise and that made you gag and cough even more than expected. He head-pushed you as a furious pace, your throat being abused. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You closed an eye to fixate on Carl. His head back and his growls loud. He looked at your face as he put his head back in place. He fastened his pace. You felt his dick squirm under your mouth. So you used your strength to push down on his thighs and release your mouth from him.

You sat up, coughing and gagging. “Jesus Carl,” you wiped your mouth with your arm.

“Huh… what?” He was confused that he didn’t reach his high. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry,” he was concerned.

“No, you did nothing wrong,” you licked your lips, savoring his taste. “I don’t want you to cum yet,” you got him laying back down on the sofa.

You crawled over him and laid down on his chest. “This is the best part,” you whispered into his ear. You kissed him, “For you and me.” You got up and hovered over his cock. Carl used his hands to carefully align his dick to your entrance. “Are you ready?” Carl nodded. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. You slowly fell down on his cock. Moans and long shivering breathes escaping. Once you got all the way down to his balls, you felt his tip kissing your cervix.

“Mm~ Carl… how do you feel?” you laid your torso down on his chest, your faces inches closer.

“Ah~ You feel so good. Your pussy is so soft and warm,” he groaned as you lifted your hips up and down on him. You kissed him intensely as your moans vibrated through him. Carl used his hands to guide your hips as you rode him. You let go of his lips, moving them to his neck. Kissing and licking it as his head rested against yours. You moved your hips faster, his moans uncontrollable.

“Oh, Carl. Thank you for letting me be your teacher,” you put your torso up, his eyes scanning every part of your body. You pressed your hand on his chest for better balance. You slanted your inner eyebrows, going faster as the room was full of the sound of skin slapping.

Carl groped your tit as you grinded your hips. You felt the pressure of his dick on your g-spot and cervix. You moaned his name which caused him to push your hips faster and deeper into him. His growls running through your ears.

All the grinding and friction of the back of his head caused his eye bandage to come loose and slip off his face. When you looked at his face and realized what happened, you slowly stopped bouncing.

He felt the breeze coming on his wounded eye socket and covered his eye. “Shit! I-I’m sorry… you’re probably all freaked out now,” he worried insecurely.

You smiled as you leaned down and placed multiple kisses around his wound. He was stunned. “You’re so cute, Carl,” you snickered.

“Y-You’re not… grossed out?”

“This wound is just a part of you. You’re beautiful no matter what, no wound will change that.” You smiled as you continued to bounce your hips at the same fast pace. Carl was bashful towards your words. You made him feel loved and confident. You were back to making out, spit surrounding your mouths. Your faces full of enjoyment. Both of you could feel the breaths of your moans.

You felt the skin above his dick, pressing against your clit.

“I-I’m gonna-“ you put a finger to his lips. You’re face messy in front of him.

“Do it inside me,” you moaned. You wanted to feel the warm slimy fluid in you. You grinded faster, burying your head in his chest. Your drool all over his skin.

Carl wrapped his arms tightly around your back, keeping you in place as he thrusted fast and hard into you. His groans getting wilder.

You both let out a scream as he released in you. His thrusts slowing down then fastening again. Your legs quivered. His cum poured out of you and splattered over his thighs.

You let out one final shaky breath, giving him a peck. Carl raised his back, still huffing. You were on his lap.

“That’s the end of our lesson,” you whispered seductively. You sat up carefully, cum all over the sofa. Carl grabbed his bandage but you grabbed his wrist before he could wrap it around his eye. You placed another small peck under it then one more on his lips.

“Don’t forget what I said about your eye,” you smiled before putting your cute underwear back on along with your shirt followed by your pants. Carl did the same.

“Thank you… for tonight,” Carl blushed. You smiled.

“You’re more than ready to go fuck your girlfriend now,” you giggled. Carl averted his eyes.

“Do you think… maybe we can do this again?” he asked, twiddling with his fingers again. Your eyes widened, surprised that he’d want to go to you again.

“Hmm, what about Enid?” you wondered. “You should go to her. She’ll be wondering where you are,” you avoided the question. Carl frowned. “Just… try it with Enid,” you put a hand on his chest. “And trust me, I had a great time,” you carefully put your hands under his shirt and wrapped them around his body.

“You should go… before Carol comes back,” you advised while the birds started to chirp. Carl agreed and stepped a foot out your door frame. You stood in front of it. Carl looked at you before giving you a goodbye kiss then he started walking. You closed the door and immediately started wiping down the leftover sperm from the couch. You kept reminding yourself to get a morning after pill as fast as you could.

#twd #the walking dead #carl grimes #carol peletier #enid #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x reader smut #carl grimes smut #the walking dead smut #fanfiction #smut #lessons #lessons carl grimes x reader #gh0stw1f3 #alexandria #couch sex

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keenvictory · 4 months ago

Text

Synopsis: Sometimes the best way to distract a villain is with a little more than a witty chat.

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Chronos x Gn!Reader

̗̀➛ Content Warnings: NSFW, (bottom, but not necessarily sub, reader)

̗̀➛ Additional notes: Me? Obsessed with a beautiful, evil blonde man? Yeah.

Ten minutes. All you had to do was keep him distracted for ten minutes.

You'd seen it clear as day this morning, if he managed to escape this room, a shitty warehouse somewhere in the city center, the hostages would die.

Nevermind that the 'hostages' were all low-level villains that had been bothering you for weeks, they weren't in their costumes, neither the public, nor the media, would know it as anything other then civilian deaths.

You'd already sent the brunt of the force towards the second location, if you could hold his attention for just ten minutes, everything would be okay.

Nobody would die. And more importantly, your reputation would be saved.

Chronos stood in the rooms center, illuminated by a single, shitty bulb.

"Come now, Oracle." He purred through the mask, the metallic tinge making your body tense. "Don't get distracted."

Right. Focus. Nine more minutes.

"I am focused. You're not getting away this time."

He'd grin if he could. You can tell in the way he sets his shoulders, the slight chuckle the mask can't quite filter out.

He takes a step back, shaking his head.

"I hate to disappoint you. But I most certainly am."

Shit. Wrong approach. He can't back away. He can't get away.

You need to lure him in closer.

He turns, angling his body away from you, looking for an escape?

"Wait!"

He stops. Despite it all, he stops to hear you out. Why does he do that?

"What? Hate to see me leave but love to watch me walk away, hm?"

Again with the flirting! Always flirting. It drives you up the wall.

But... maybe... There's nobody around but the two of you...

"You're wearing a coat. What is there for me to see when you leave?"

He tilts his head. You can feel his eyes boring into you.

"I can take it off."

"You wouldn't. Your suit is ridiculously tight. You wouldn't..."

You trail off, floundering, why is this working?!

"I wouldn't show it off for you? Hah! Why do you suppose I designed my suit like this in the first place?"

He drags a hand down his chest, gloved fingers trailing over defined abs. "I don't dress like this for the public, you know."

Eight minutes. Time feels like it's dragging on.

"You dress like that just for me, then? Prove it."

Chronos' hand stops. Shocked? Repulsed?

Then he grabs the jackets lapel, slowly pulling it off his tall frame.

He drops it to the ground next to him unceremoniously.

You swallow.

"How's that for proof?"

He strikes a pose. Lifting his arms to show off his waist. It's a little dorky. A smile creeps up on your face before you have the chance to fight it.

It's a little... something else, too. But you won't think like that. You can't.

"I don't know. Just taking off a jacket doesn't feel very personal. You could do that for anyone."

He takes a step towards you and you have to fight to calm your racing heart. This is good. Just seven more minutes.

"Now, now Oracle. That feels like you're baiting me to take off my mask. And we can't be having that, can we?"

You roll your eyes, he was the one who said it, not you.

"Scared I won't like what I find?"

For once, he doesn't seem to have a witty retort. But he takes another step forward, coming ever closer.

This is good. Great, even! You just need to keep him entertained.

"You know, Chronos. There's a lot more to your suit then just your mask."

That gets his attention. He pauses, motionless.

What catches your eye isn't your fault. It's his fault, really, with his stupid skin-tight suit. And the tent in his pants is so obnoxiously obvious.

You do the polite thing, averting your eyes, not that he can really tell through your mask. Not that he even particularly seems to care.

You'd meant, like, gloves or something! Maybe some of those stupid belts he wraps around his torso.

You didn't mean... well... did you mean... that? It would be... a distraction.

How many minutes do you have left? You've lost count.

After an excruciatingly long pause, he seems to find his tongue again.

"You should watch your words, Oracle. There's... interesting implications there."

You can't help but laugh. What use is there in beating around the bush like that when he's hard as a rock and basically vibrating where he stands.

"Implications? You're one to talk. Your... reaction, down-there, speaks louder than words."

He glances downward, as if he hadn't noticed. Then clenches, and unclenches his fist. An exercise in self-restraint, maybe?

"Ah." Is all he mumbles, before glancing back up at you. He clenches and unclenches his fists again, and then shrugs. "At least we chose a place without any cameras around. If this made a front page story I doubt either of us would live it down."

He leans down to scoop up his coat. How much time has passed? Not enough, surely.

"Leaving so soon?"

He hesitates, one hand nested in the material of his coat.

"You want me to stay?"

For the good of the people, if nothing else.

"Just seems like a... waste."

He straightens up, tilting his head curiously. It's so hard to read him, his expressionless mask not letting anything slip.

Then he places a hand, tentatively, on his belt buckle.

"A waste... of this?"

Are you doing this? To save a handful of hostages who you don't especially care about the safety of at the best of times?

"It's like you said. No cameras."

You're doing this. You hope those fuckers appreciate it.

"You're... serious? If this is your attempts at unmasking me, it's an underhanded tactic."

You shrug, trying to keep it casual despite your racing heart. Your mother can NOT find out about this.

"We can leave the masks on. This is between us, as hero and villain. Not whoever our real selves are."

He stills seems unsure, so you suck in a breath and step towards him, poking a finger against his chest.

In the past, he's dodged so many of your attacks so effortlessly. You almost expect him to breezily step out of your touch, but your finger simply bounces against the muscle.

"You've made plenty of advance at me in the past. I hope they weren't just for show."

He swallows. You're close enough that you can see his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. It makes you feel...

Nothing. It makes you feel nothing. There is no slight shiver that passes through you. No warmth between your thighs. This is work. Not pleasure.

He laughs, warm and metallic, and places a large hand against your waist. It isn't unpleasant. His thumb gliding across the material of your suit.

"There are much better suited places for this then a dingy warehouse, Oracle."

While the idea of fucking against a dirty warehouse floor like a bunch of animals is not exactly appealing, letting him leave the building at all is out of the cards.

"What, you're going to take me back to your place? Yeah right."

"The least I could do is a nice hotel."

Ugh, a hotel would be nice. A comfy bed, room service after, somewhere to sleep off the weirdness of it all and freshen up before the walk of shame home.

The warehouse will have to do. Fucking hostages.

You wrap your fingers around his belt loops, teasingly.

"And if I told you I didn't want to wait?"

He groans, it's a sound you're about to get incredibly familiar with. Future fights with this fucker are definitely going to get interesting.

"Fuck."

He uses his grasp on your waist to tug you closer, pinning your bodies together. Then he pushes his crotch against your side, rolling his hips to grind into you. It can't feel all that good behind several layers of fabric, but you suppose it is pretty skin-tight.

He groans again, right in your ear, loud and unrestrained. It's nicer sounding then the sirens outside, at least.

"You're so needy. All that talk about taking me a hotel when you're the one who couldn't wait."

Chronos whines, masked face buried into your shoulder as he rolls his hips more desperately. If you stood here, sweet-talking him, you're pretty sure you could get him to cum where he stands, right in his suit.

But where's the fun in that? If you're sinking this low, you're at least getting off too.

"If you're just going to stand there and get yourself off, Chronos, I might as well go home."

His needy whines turn into a throaty growl, his gentle grip on your waist becoming delightfully dangerous as you feel his nails catch in the suit's material.

If he rips a hole in your suit he is a dead man.

Thankfully, his grip relaxes. But only for a moment, as slides his other hand around your waist, and lifts you up, carrying you across the room with ease, and urgency.

A shock of cold goes through you as he drops you on a metal container, perched right on the edge so your legs dangle down.

You can hear his heavy breathing through the mask, as he glances down at you, like he's deciding what he wants to do first.

Then, without a word, he sinks to his knees, pushing your legs apart and laughing breathily.

He taps his metal mask, twice.

"No peaking."

You tilt your head up, half out of politeness, half necessity. If you break the rules, nothings stopping him from ripping your mask off at this distance.

"At least when you take off your mask I won't have to listen to your prattling on."

"Still swapping insults at a time like this, Oracle? No matter. I have much better things to do with my mouth."

At the thought of ripping, you hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing, then a cool breeze caressing the inner-most curves of your thigh.

This motherfucker.

You don't even have time to gasp, nor raise a very reasonable complaint, before you hear him happily hum.

"I'll pay for it."

Then the click of metal, as you can only assume he pushes his mask up his face, freeing his mouth for... other activities.

You sneak a glance downwards as he buries his head between your thighs, but all you can see is a mop of blonde hair pushed messily back by his shifted mask. Worth a shot.

After that, you don't have the time, nor the mental fortitude to scheme, his tongue working hard to distract you from thoughts of hero's and villains.

It's a fight not to clamp your thighs around his head, an excellent position to squeeze the life out of him, but you're a little distracted. And it's not a great story to sell to the media.

Moans, both yours and his own, bounce off the run-down walls. If anything, his moans are almost louder than yours, moaning passionately against you with every spare breath he manages to take.

Air seems like the last thing on his mind. He'll choke himself out, at this rate. Desperately hungry for you. You decide not to think about it.

Instead you tilt your head back, basking in the rolling, sweeping pleasure of his tongue in all the right spots.

And it builds, and builds, and builds, and sudden the sweet waves you've been leisurely riding feel too close to breaking. You don't gently climb to orgasm as much as you hurtle towards it.

"Chronos, wait I-"

But it's like uttering his name flips an evil switch in his mind, and he burrows closer, hands gripping at your thighs for purchase so desperately his nails drag open little holes in your suit.

The waves break, and all you have the strength to do is slump forward, hands nesting in his hair, grabbing on for dear life, as you ride out your high on his face.

Not that he seems to mind, the way his hips are bucking into thin air, just as desperately.

When he finally pulls away, he manages to keep his face pointed downwards, identity secure, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. Before adjusting the mask back over his face.

Then he stands, looming above you as you sit, still slightly quivering, upon the metal box he set you on.

"I hope you don't think we're done here." He purrs, clicking open his belt with practiced ease.

Thank god for superhero stamina.

He slinks out of his pants, leaving them abandoned in a heap much like his jacket.

He rubs the head of his cock against your bare thigh, trailing pre-cum across your skin. He hisses with pure pleasure, both at the sight and the sensation.

"Hope you don't mind that I'm a little... unprepared. A little lube, a condom or two, could have gone a long way. I'll be more prepared next time."

"You think there's going to be a next time?"

He scoops up the cum on your thighs and slicks his fingers with it, pushing them against your entrance with far too much eagerness.

"Oh Oracle, you'll be weak in the knees at the sight of me after I'm done with you. I can guarantee a next time."

"Mmm... you're so cocky."

He chuckles, nudging the tip of his hard cock against your groin, sliding it against the slick opening as he retracts his fingers.

"I have good reason to be, clearly."

You go to refute, but your mind blanks as he pushes into you. Two inches, then four, then six, then further still, until his hips brush against yours. The moan that escapes him is unholy.

"Fuck. I'm going to be weak in the knees after this." He groans, right into your ear. The metal of his mask is cold as it brushes against your neck.

Absently, you wish his mouth was free to kiss it. From the way he's eyeing it and breathing heavily, you think he does too.

"Are you... in any pain?" He asks, a rare moment of pure consideration.

You adjust yourself, flex your insides to test the depth, the pressure. It's... a lot. Filling, certainly. And you have to bite back a small moan as you really relax against him.

But it doesn't hurt. And after a pause to catch your breath, you nod.

"I'm... good. It's good. Thanks."

"Just good? I'll have to do a better job then that."

He punctuates his sentence with a smooth roll of his hips, the length of his cock gliding out, then filling you up all over again. It's unbearably slow, the temptation to shuffle closer, to wrap your legs around his hips and trap him there, taunts you.

"You'll have... to do a little more... then that." You pant, gripping the sides of the metal container you're perched on for support.

"Oh? You want more?" He purrs, sliding out of you so slowly. And then he pauses, the two of you connected only by the very tip, a twitch away from sliding out entirely.

He's going to say something terrible, isn't he?

"Say please."

You called it.

Your eye twitches. You don't know what's bigger, his ego or his dick.

Definitely his ego.

He's lucky you can't say the same for yourself. You're not above basic manners. But you're not above a little bullying, either.

You lean as close as you can despite the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck, and whisper into his ear.

"Chronos... please just fuck me already."

You can almost hear the thread of tension in his body, snap. The eradication of his self-restraint.

He doesn't have anything witty to say, after that.

His hips snap forward with such strength that you tumble back, losing your grip on him as you lay down flat on the container. The new angle let's him push into you even further, and you both moan in delight.

He looms over you, every thrust punctuated with soft, needy moans.

You reach up, running your hands through his blonde hair. It would easy, to simple pull off his mask, see his real face looking down at you.

Would he be blushing? Smiling? Or would he have a more focused look... Your mind wanders. But it's almost more fun if you don't know.

Instead your fingers grip the strands, pulling slightly as he hits a particularly delicious angle. You both moan in equal surprise and debased pleasure.

There's a moment of pause, as you consider these new found techniques. And then you resume, with twice as much passion as before.

Him chasing that angle over and over, crashing into the spot that makes you shiver and buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. You pulling at his hair, and running your nails down his back, enjoying the throaty groans it elicits each and every time.

It isn't long before the feeling returns, waves of pleasure building and building and building inside you.

"Ah, fuck, I'm gonna cum Chronos-"

You don't even finish the final syllable of his name, before he's crashing his hips into you, warmth flooding you as he cums with a long, growl-like moan.

Your own orgasm follows but a second later, his orgasm hasn't slowed him down, if anything he seems to be chasing the afterglow. The uptick in speed pushing you tumbling over the metaphorical edge.

You both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. Those ten minutes have to be up by now, right? Time to make a strategic exit to check on the hostages. Well, maybe after you've gotten your breath back.

You shift up, propping yourself up on your elbows. His head is bowed, his cock still buried inside you. But he'll pull out any second now, right?

Then he looks up. Slowly. Despite the mask, you can feel his shit-eating grin.

"I'm not done with you yet, Oracle."

When you stumble out the warehouse, only one lone officer remains on the scene. He gives you a questioning look, and you feel yourself flush, thankful for the mask all over again.

"The hostages are safe, Oracle, thanks for your help. But, uh, you know only had to keep him in there for ten minutes right? It's been..." The officer checks his watch, and then frowns. "Hours. Are you alright?"

You adjust Chronos' cloak, which is wrapped around your middle for privacy.

"It was a tough... fight. But I dealt some serious blows. Managed to snag his coat before he escaped."

"Great work! We could take it in for testing if you'd like."

"Ah, uh, no need! I'll do my own... uh... super testing! See if it triggers a vision.”

It's a terrible excuse. But thankfully, the officer seems stupid. Or maybe tired, it is late. But either way, he nods. And waves you goodbye as he packs himself away into his car.

Now to figure out how to get home without any camera's catching you... indisposed.

The next morning, there's a generous donation to your bank account, from a suspiciously anonymous donor. Enough to cover the expenses of your torn suit, and then some.

It's signed only with a C. Cocky bastard.

#criminallyyoursvn #criminallyyours #yandere x reader #yandere vn #Chronos x reader #Chronos #yanjam #this is i think the longest thing ive ever published on this account #this is all chronos' fault #i love him ur honour #not beta read we die like jack

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