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#i’m not sure i’ll finish this one so i’m posting it just in case

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 2 months

Text

Thinking about bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara who insisted on waiting for you in the corner of the room while you did the table reading, rather than go wait in the car or around the lot like the rest of the cast’s personal security did.

Bodyguard!Miguel whose eyes never left your presence, it took you a minute to shake off the feeling, you always felt his eyes burning holes into your back when you were doing something and he couldn’t be right next to you. But after a while, you finally got yourself into the groove of the script material.

Bodyguard!Miguel who-despite mentally checking out ten pages into the script-was still able to pick some stuff up. It was a romance, he wasn’t surprised, since romcoms tend to sky rocket careers these days.

It was a period piece. Your character, who was named Anastasia, was a princess who was coming near the time where she had to be married off to someone else at a neighboring kingdom to be crowned as their queen, the problem is, that your character’s heart already belongs elsewhere, in the hands of one of the royal guards who worked in the castle.

That was all Miguel had really picked up.

Bodyguard!Miguel who finally tones back in when the reading was finished, hearing the head director tell everyone about how they’ll be receiving their schedules through their managers, before dismissing everyone (not before having everyone sign his copy of the script so that the marketing team can post it to social media later).

Bodyguard!Miguel who was about to make his way towards you so he could escort you home, but stopped when he saw your coworker who plays the love interest , Peter B. Parker come up to you to properly introduce himself.

—

“Why hello Anastasia.” Peter said as he came up to you with the friendliest smile you’ve ever seen, to which you quickly returned, both of you shaking hands with your free hands as the other held your respective scripts.

“Sir Tristan.” You giggled, calling him by his character name, before pulling your hand out from his. “I’m excited to work with you, I hope you feel the same.”

“Of course I am! Always ready to act with new and fresh faces-“ his phone starts to ring in his pocket, cutting him off, taking out to read the screen before looking back up at you. “I gotta take this, but I’ll keep in touch, I’ll have my manager send you my number in case you ever want tips, or to run lines over.” He told you, tucking his script under his armpit, giving you a quick wave before slipping out of the (now mostly empty) room, answering as he left.

You finally turned and headed to Miguel, who was now waiting by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you. Neither of you spoke until you were in the parking lot, that’s when Miguel finally broke the silence.

“So… Parker huh?” It was obvious Miguel had to be a bit familiar with Peter’s work, who wouldn’t be though. He was a big star at the moment, having just come off from the Spider-Man films. Still, you weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you nodded and let out a small “mhm” anyways.

—

Part 1<

Part 3<

Not proofread.

Word count:500

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @miguelzslvtz @scaleniusrm @xerorizz @enananawoah @messicampeon @anastasia1972 @lauraolar14 (if you want to be added click here, it’s easier for me then asking in the comments☺️)

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reiding-writing · 3 months

Note

hi author your writing is great btw i just wanted to see when you would post part 2 of copycat??

copycat [ s.r ] | 2 |

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn't work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: relationship between spencer and reader is not inherently romantic, sociopathic reader, graphic details of murder, graphic eye descriptions, mentions of spencer’s addiction and overdose, morgan and reader really don’t like each other, child abuse, childhood addiction, death by overdose, suicide

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 14.3k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: after a whole 22 days of writing this, it’s finally finished 😭 sorry for making you all wait for so long this one was a nightmare to finish-

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @devilsadvcte @marvellover98 @evvy96 @arlovesper @h3rt8k @pathologicalreid @sideshow-b0b @sunflowersndpeaches @mera3luna @madameparkerreid @fandom-mania @melaninsugababy @meyaareads

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

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

The coroner's office, whilst not as bland and beige as the police station was still extremely muted, with light grey walls and a smooth tiled floor that was so shiny you're sure you could see your face in it if you focused enough.

“The second I see a change in your features I am booting you out of the mortuary understood?” Morgan’s tone held nothing but contempt for you as he walked step in step with you like you’d disappear if he looked away for more than a second.

“You keep speaking to me like that and I’ll shove the next rose I get down your throat.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Morgan’s contempt fizzled into a rising frustration, his eyebrows knitted into a tight line and his arms crossed tightly over his chest as if trying to puff himself out like a peacock to look more intimidating.

“Threats hold no value,”

“We should go inside now,” Spencer’s voice was much less confident than either yours or Morgan’s, but it held enough volume to be heard over your argument.

He was seriously beginning to question whether inviting you to come along was a good idea. He knew Morgan despised you, and yet he’d asked you to come along anyway out of his own selfish want to crack open your brain like a book and read your neuron pathways like pages.

He just hoped you’d actually find something valuable in the victim’s autopsy so that all of your arguing with Morgan wasn’t in vain.

“Ah, you must be the agents working on the case, I’m Dr. Toth,” The doctor introduced herself politely as Spencer opened the mortuary door, and Spencer gave her a small nod of recognition as the three of you entered.

“That’s right, thank you for allowing us here,”

“Of course,” The doctor walked her way around the autopsy table, where you assumed the body of the most recent victim was lying, covered by a blue sheet from head to toe and leaving only the silhouette in its place. “I should warn you in advance, due to the damage caused to the eyes whilst removing the rose stems, we had to excise them from the body during the autopsy,”

“Do you still have them?” Your question seems to strike a nerve with Morgan, probably thinking that you want to see the victim’s eyes as a part of a sick fantasy running through your mind, but he bites his tongue to keep his mouth shut so that he doesn’t accidentally air the fact that they’d brought a serial killer into a coroner’s office and freak out the pathologist they’re talking to.

“We do yes, they were professionally removed and placed in hypothermic storage, I can retrieve them for you if you’d like,”

“That won’t be necessary for now,” Morgan’s interjection elicits a roll of your eyes. You weren’t interested in seeing them because it would get you off or whatever, you wanted to see what kind of damage they went through to the point where they had to be fully removed from the victim’s body.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, but if you need my assistance please don’t hesitate to ask,”

“Thank you,” Spencer, the peacekeeper that he is, gives the doctor a polite smile as he picks up a pair of latex gloves and pulls them over his hands, and you and Morgan follow suit after him as he takes place at the end of the autopsy table.

“You’re looking for differences, not entertainment.”

“Yes yes, I get it, Jesus Christ.” You scoff at Morgan’s tone, tugging the sheet down from the victim’s head until it was halfway down his torso.

“His name was Alexander Youlier, age 22, died of blood loss with the roses believed to be inserted post-mortem,” Spencer read through the autopsy file as you examined the boy’s face.

He was pale, much too pale for a normal person, but you suppose that’s what happens when you barely have any blood in your body, and the blood that he did have completely lacked oxygen. His cheeks were sunken, his lips almost blue from the lack of oxygen, and of course, in place of where his eyes would be, there were instead two holes lined with a dark reddish pink muscle that made it look like the cavity was much deeper than physically possible.

The minute you looked at his face you felt like you were going to throw up. So much for being ‘entertained’.

“Oi.” Morgan’s voice ripped you from your state of disassociation. “What did I just say, you’re here to identify the differences not get off to the victim’s body in your head.” He turned his attention towards Spencer with a disapproving look. “I told you we shouldn’t’ve brought them here,”

You didn’t respond to Morgan’s chastising with anything more than a tiny twitch of your eyebrows as you tore your eyes away from Youlier’s face.

“Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice was considerably softer than Morgan's, his eyes big and round, glistening with worry underneath the overhead light in the room, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern at the way you’d suddenly shut down.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” The end of your sentence is marked by you tearing the gloves from your hands and leaving them in balls on the floor as you retreat to the door of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re not allowed to just leave. You wanted to be here. You chose to be here. So you’ll do your goddamn job.” Morgan’s anger falls unrecognised as you open the door and slam it behind you after you leave, and he begins to follow after you only to be stopped by Spencer at the door.

“I’ve got it,”

Morgan’s glance is unconvinced, and Spencer reiterates himself once more. “I’ve got it, I promise, they’re less likely to get angry if it’s me and not you,”

Morgan doesn’t get the chance to argue before Spencer runs off down the hallway to catch up to you, leaving him alone in the mortuary to continue his analysis of the autopsy by himself.

“Hey!” Spencer calls out to you as he jogs in your direction, catching you right as you open the door to leave the coroner’s office. “Wait up a second-” You don’t stop at his callings, but he can tell that you’re also not trying to deliberately get away from him, your pace slow and even as you leave the coroner’s office with him hot on your tail.

He’s very clearly out of breath by the time he reaches your side, but he pays no attention to his lungs’ cry for him to take a second to breathe and supply them with more oxygen as he begins questioning you. “Are you okay?”

“I‘m fine,”

He’s not at all convinced by your statement despite your tone conveying genuity. You looked paler than usual, any natural flush was gone from your cheeks and your lips, and you were absentmindedly picking at the nail bed of your thumb with your middle finger, something he assumes is a self-soothing act for you.

People getting disturbed at the sight of a freshly dead body wasn’t exactly something for Spencer to be astounded at. It was a natural human reaction to the incomprehensible knowledge of death that your brain desperately tried to work out with no results.

But you didn’t exactly fit the definition of ‘normal’. You were a sociopath. So for you to be put off by the sight of a dead body was something for Spencer to be astounded at.

Sure he was aware that sociopaths could still feel things like dread and fear of the unknown, but you weren’t just a sociopath. You were a sociopath who killed eighteen people.

You’d seen your fair share of dead people, manic episode or not. So why was this body making you react like you were?

He supposes it’s just another layer he’ll have to peel from your mind like the skin of an onion.

“Did you know that sociopaths have heightened emotional pathways? Every emotion sociopaths experience is allegedly 3 times stronger in intensity than that of someone without it,” He didn’t exactly know what to say to you considering you’d shut down any attempt to talk about how you were doing emotionally, and so he fell back on what he always did, niche facts and statistics.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Your hardened expression didn’t falter, nor did the underlying monotony in your tone, but you did finally look him in the eye.

“I always feel more at ease when I fully understand whatever I’m dealing with,” Spencer smiles at you softly with a shrug of his shoulders, attempting to empathise with you the best he could.

“I already knew that fact,” You take a seat on the small half-wall lining the outside of the coroner’s office, gripping the edge of the brick with your hands. “And it doesn’t make me feel any different,”

“Well…” Spencer purses his lips slightly as he takes a seat next to you, running through things in his head that might hold some sort of value to you. “Did you know that roses symbolise different things based off of their colour?”

He was definitely grasping at straws now, but he didn’t want to end your conversation yet. He wanted to know what had you so perturbed that you felt the need to leave the minute you got a close look at the victim’s body.

If anything he’d expected you to follow Morgan’s accusation about getting some sick gratification from the body, not actually feeling sick because of it.

“Why do you think I used white roses? I’m not stupid you know,”

He’d never thought of that. “You used white roses for a specific reason?”

You shrug, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of the wall. “When I was younger we had a dog, and when it died my parents planted a white rose bush over where they buried it,”

Your tone is rather emotionally removed as you divulge this little snippet of your past to him, like you were recounting something you’d read from a fictional story rather than an event that most children would find extremely distressing. “Mom said that the roses were white because they symbolised mourning and new beginnings, something about how it would help him pass over into heaven or whatever, and I guess even in my episode I held that knowledge subconsciously,”

“You don’t believe in heaven?” Spencer’s eyes scanned your face as he tried to decipher your micro-expressions, noting the small softening of your eyes once you brought up your parents. Looks like you did indeed still have some humanity.

“Do you believe in heaven Dr. Reid?”

No. Maybe? He knew that once your brain functions stopped working your consciousness was permanently ended and that was it. “I thought I saw the other side once,” His admission shocked himself more than it shocked you. Great, he was spilling his traumas to a sociopath he’d known for less than a week. What a riveting social life he had.

He could see the flicker of intrigue in your eyes at his sentence, and he pursed his lips into a line before deciding to continue. “I uh- 11 months ago I was kidnapped and forcefully injected with Dilaudid, and I- was overdosed…”

He could see the cogs turning in your head as you connected the fragments of earlier conversations with him in your mind to form a cohesive story, and you nodded at him as if encouraging him to continue with his story.

“I blacked out first, but it felt… warm? and I could see the beginnings of a light and I honestly still don’t know what to think of it,” He could feel himself squirming from the recollection. He was a man of science. Someone who only believed in what he could physically see and test. But that brief moment where he was sure that he’d died and was experiencing an afterlife that he didn’t think existed had carved a hole into his brain and settled itself into the back of his mind.

“I hope there’s an afterlife,” Your tone continues to carry that same monotonous drawl, but he can see the genuity in your eyes and the way your hands clench around the edge of the brick wall.

“Me too…”

It’d be easy for Spencer to forget you were a serial killer in moments like this. Sure you were still extremely emotionally stunted, but you felt human. And he’s sure that that’s the real difference between a sociopath and a psychopath.

Psychopaths were born without human ‘defects’. Sociopaths were made.

“Were your parents good to you?” Spencer’s question was full of hesitation. He didn’t want to assume anything, after all, your parents were the one topic you seemed to treat with genuine care in your words, but he knew something had to have happened. Something had to have made you the way that you are.

“My parents were perfect.” Your eyebrows knit into a small line, as if defensive at the fact that Spencer would suggest your parents were anything other than the perfect model of what two caregivers should be.

“What about your biological parents?” He could feel himself retreating back into his own mind the further he pressed for answers out of you, his conscience begging him to just stop talking before he accidentally crossed a line and ruined any branch of communication he’d formed.

“I don’t remember them,” You shrug lightly and your expression cements your nonchalance.

“You’ve never wanted to… seek them out?” It wasn’t entirely surprising that you don’t remember your biological parents. Most children who get adopted really young don’t.

“They’re dead.”

Oh.

Right.

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at the revelation.

By this point, he’s completely forgotten about the fact that he’s supposed to be convincing you to go back into the mortuary to continue looking at the victim.

You had a great adoptive family and a pair of dead biological parents. Was that what broke you? Was them dying what caused your mental state to shatter and rebuild itself as a fragmented version of its previous state?

Maybe that’s why you didn’t remember them. Maybe your brain had built a wall in your memories to protect you from your own trauma of losing your parents. But he wasn’t sure it was enough for you to have a mental break like you did. There had to be something more.

“I can do some digging on them if you want,” He airs the suggestion like he’s not going to do it even if you say no.

“I have no interest in learning about them,”

Oh well. He’d get Garcia to do it anyway. Maybe you’d find more interest in the topic once there was actually something for you to learn.

“Are you- feeling alright now?” Spencer knew he was going to have to bring up the topic eventually. They couldn’t stay out here for too long both for the sake of the investigation and because if they did Morgan would probably jump to the conclusion that you’d killed Spencer and run off somewhere.

“I told you I was fine,”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Spencer could see the small shift in your expression at his hesitant accusation. But it wasn’t anger this time, it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Something caused you discomfort, and in order for you to be able to help us we need you to be relaxed,”

You turned your face away from Spencer as he spoke, eyes fixed on a bird flying overhead and then on the cloud that was behind it.

“What was it that caused you to feel like you didn’t want to be there anymore?” There was clear caution in Spencer’s tone as he questioned you, although that had essentially become a staple of every conversation you had with him by this point. “We can fix it,”

Spencer’s compassion for you left you feeling a little confused. You were a spree murderer. He was supposed to dislike you for that. That’s how the human mind works is it not? People are supposed to have a distaste for those who break the moral codes of society, and you did it 18 times over.

“I… don’t know,” It felt like every second you allowed yourself to be confused the feeling multiplied tenfold until you weren’t even sure that you could remember your own name if somebody asked you for it.

Your emotions were written all over your face, not like you really had the capacity to hide them even if you wanted to, but it was clear as day just how internally confused you were with your own feelings about the situation at hand.

“Let me help you figure it out then,” Spencer’s tone continued to carry that gentle compassion in it and it wasn’t helping you sort out your thoughts.

“I don’t need your help, I can figure it out on my own,” You knew enough about Psychology to be able to figure out your own thinking processes. At least you thought so. You didn’t go through three laborious years at university wishing during every hour of it to be doing something else to not even get anything useful out of it at the end.

Spencer took that as a direct invitation to shut his mouth and just let you think to yourself, although his eyes continued to scan your expression and your body language as he waited for you to come to your own conclusion on how you were currently feeling and what exactly made you feel that way.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Despite your gaze focused downwards towards the pavement your frustration at his lingering gaze made it sound like he was making direct eye contact with you.

“Sorry,” Spencer averted his eyes from you immediately after your order, flickering them around the parking lot of the coroner’s office and absentmindedly reading all of the number plates he could see from a distance so that he didn’t frustrate you anymore than he already had.

You gave up psychoanalysing your own mind after a few minutes, partly because it was an effort you didn’t want to expend and partly because it felt safer for you to just lock your emotions behind a wall of glass and leave them for another day.

Instead, you turned your gaze back to the doctor sitting next to you and watched him as he watched his surroundings.

“Your eyes are very alive,”

It’s an odd thing to say Spencer thinks. The concept of his eyes being ‘alive’. Of course, he’d heard the term ‘dead eyes’ before in reference to the lack of emotion shown on someone's face. He’d consider you to have rather dead eyes if he was thinking about it. Although he’s not sure if you’re referring to his eyes in terms of expressiveness or genuinely being ‘alive’ in a physical sense.

“Alive?”

You give him a short nod. “They have a lot of life in them,”

“Thank you?” He chooses to take your odd statement as a sort of compliment. Surely having ‘alive eyes’ couldn’t be a negative thing, right?

Now that he’s thinking about it you really did seem to have some sort of fixation on people's eyes. You constantly chased eye contact with the people you spoke to. You apparently had a habit of studying people’s eyes and how ‘alive’ they were. You pierced roses into the eyes of your victims.

Spencer’s gaze focused on you as he came to the conclusion in his head. You’d become uncomfortable in the mortuary because you couldn’t see the victim’s eyes. Because instead of being able to judge him based off of the look in his eyes you were instead greeted with a blank slate where they were supposed to be.

But why? Why was your judgement of somebody based off of what you could see in their eyes? Something had to have caused it.

“Why did you put roses in your victims’ eyes?” He could see the flicker of intrigue in your expression at his question, although he was unsure whether it was conscious or not.

From the way you’d spoken earlier about your discomfort, it seemed that your apparent fixation was unknown to even you, a subconscious thought process that even you were unaware of for whatever reason.

“I told you this already, I held subconscious knowledge about what they represented.” You furrow your eyebrows at his question, one that you’d answered a little over five minutes ago. Why was he asking you again? “I thought you had an eidetic memory.”

“I do-” Spencer’s not sure whether to be surprised that you remembered that small snippet of information or not. “I mean, why did you put them… you know, in their eyes specifically?”

A small amount of discomfort seeped into Spencer’s tone as he asked the question. As much as he’d become desensitised to the gruesomeness of what his job held, actively thinking about having somebody’s eyes being physically pierced with a blunt object was something that anyone with two functioning eyeballs would feel uncomfortable about.

“I don’t know, I just did,”

So it was subconscious. Something that the dark void in the back of your mind was aware of but wouldn’t let your conscious self have any knowledge of.

“Would you like to help me analyse the victim’s eyes? The pathologist said they were still being stored,” Your eyebrows turn from furrowed to raised, clearly confused by Spencer’s sudden fixation on eye-related things.

“They could be a useful asset to the investigation,” Spencer shrugged softly, lips pressed into a line, an awkward smile present on his face as if his suggestion was completely unrelated to the conversation.

You found yourself agreeing to Spencer’s suggestion despite that lingering discomfort in the back of your mind, and as the two of you stood up to re-enter the coroner’s office, Spencer pulled out his phone to send an email to Morgan.

‘Cover the victim’s face.’

Morgan had clearly read the message before the two of you arrived back at the mortuary, shooting Spencer a glance of confusion as you entered the room ahead of him, eyes already locked on Youlier’s body as if you were drawn to it by some unexplainable force.

Of course, with the blue sheet now placed back over the victim’s head, you couldn’t actually see anything, but you still had the image of his face in your head, causing a sense of unease to remain in your stomach, although not as bad as when you were originally presented with it.

Spencer gave Morgan a small shake of his head as if to shut down this conversation for later, leaving your side to seek out the pathologist so she could retrieve Youlier’s eyes from storage.

He returned not two minutes later, freshly gloved with a glass jar in hand, two vaguely spherical shaped objects floating inside it.

Morgan saw them before you did, his expression widening and then furrowing at the sight of just how ripped up these eyes seemed to be. “How on earth did they end up like that?”

Morgan’s question is enough to pique your curiosity and rip your gaze away from the victim's covered-up face, walking up behind Spencer to look at the jar over his shoulder.

“Dr Toth said the damage was from the thorns on the roses,”

You examine the jar as Spencer explains how they ended up in the state they were in, and you had to agree that Morgan’s bewilderment was right.

They barely even looked like a pair of eyes anymore. They were more ovular than spherical, with two gaping holes where the pupil and iris should be, and countless tear lines all over the scleras, presumably where the killer had struggled to push the stems through the eyes from the resistance of the thorns. Although, you couldn’t deny that seeing them somehow ailed any lingering discomfort in your stomach.

“Well that’s just stupid,”

Spencer jumped from your statement like he hadn’t even realised you were standing behind him, almost fumbling the jar out of his hands in the process.

“…maybe you’re just stupid…” Morgan’s muttering doesn’t go unnoticed, and you shoot a glare in his direction that he mirrors right back at you with just as much venom.

“What’s stupid?” It takes Spencer a second to regain his bearings, but once he does he turns his attention to you with round eyes and a slightly tilted head, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

He watches as your focus shifts back and forth between the eyes in the jar and his own as if you were trying to visualise what he’d look like with the ripped-up excuse for a pair of eyes instead of the ones he currently had.

“Obviously you should de-thorn the roses first,” Your tone carried your phrase like you were telling him that you shouldn’t put metal in a microwave rather than de-thorning a rose before piercing someone’s eye with it. “This guy’s on what, their fifth victim? You would’ve thought they’d figured that out by now,”

You take the jar from Spencer’s hand to get a closer look at the remnants of the victim’s eyes from a better vantage point.

“I mean come on, I figured it out after my first try,” You’re edging into a rant about the intricacies of how to most productively pierce somebodies eyes with rose stems now, and it was beginning to remind Spencer that you had in fact actually done all of these things and it wasn’t just hypothetical. “It literally takes like ten seconds per rose if you know what you’re doing and then saves you five minutes of effort,”

Morgan takes the jar from you like you’re a child with a bottle of bleach, a scowl still etched on his face as you give him an incredulous look.

“I’m not going to like eat them or whatever, god-”

“Knowing your track record I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Morgan places the jar down on the small table by where the victim is lying.

“One, that’s disgusting, two, what the fuck?” Spencer finds your bewilderment at Morgan’s suggestion that you might eat the victim’s eyes quite amusing on a surface level, your response sounding like something a high schooler would say rather than a prolific serial killer.

“What? You’re the type of sick bastard that would probably get off on that sort of thing,” Morgan shrugs his shoulders as he turns back around to face you once more.

“I was experiencing a manic episode, I’m not some weird sadist who has a fetish for eyeballs,”

‘Not a fetish, but something,’ Spencer chooses to keep to himself during your squabble this time, walking over to the autopsy table to hike up the blue cover sheet and check for other injuries lower down on the body.

There’s nothing truly substantial, with no defence wounds courtesy of the blow to the back of his head before the attack, another staple of your spree to keep your victims complacent. The only thing of note was the two gashes across each wrist, severing both radial arteries, the source of the bleeding-out portion of his death.

He had to give you props on that part. The average time it took somebody to bleed out was only 3 and a half minutes, meaning it was a pretty effective way to kill somebody with minimal effort and ensure they were completely dead before any first responders might have time to arrive even if they were called immediately after the gashes were made.

It was very controlled, much more of an execution than a murder if he was to really think about it, especially considering all of your victims were unconscious when it happened and therefore probably didn’t even feel anything aside from the original blow to the head.

For a serial killer, it was actually very humane. Even if you did go out of your way to desecrate their eyes afterwards. But was the real harm in that, they were already dead anyway, it’s not like they felt it.

It ruled out any sort of sadism from your spree, one of the reasons he thinks your story of a manic episode was so easily accepted in court. You weren’t killing people for the fun of it. You didn’t drag it out or make it unnecessarily painful. It was like you were just following the steps of how to kill somebody with as minimal effort as possible to satisfy whatever violent urges you had in your head at the time and then fulfilling the apparent subconscious fixation you had with eyes by covering them with roses.

“Wow, this guy really has no idea what he’s doing-” You again cause Spencer to almost jump out of his skin as you appear behind him once more, looking at the gashes over his shoulder.

You reach out to touch one of them, stopped by a harsh hand on your wrist from Morgan, who continues to glare at you like you’d set his house on fire. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Checking out the shitty incision work from this stupid ass copycat?”

“Put some gloves on you idiot,” Morgan drops your wrist with a scoff, walking across the room to pull out a pair of latex gloves from one of the boxes and shoving them into your palms.

You roll your eyes at his attitude but tug on the gloves anyway, making a show of raising your hands up in his face once you had them on. “Happy now?”

With a swat of your wrist away from his face Morgan concedes to stop antagonising you for now and let you focus on whatever you were originally doing, which you turn to do immediately like you’d completely forgotten about Morgan’s existence as soon as he exited your peripheral vision.

“What is it?” Spencer’s eyes follow yours down to the victim’s left wrist, and he watches as you prod at the gash with your gloved fingers as if trying to pry it back open.

“This is probably the shittiest attempt at bleeding someone out I’ve ever seen,” You bend down with narrowed eyes as you examine the wound. “It’d probably take like 20 minutes from a cut this shallow,”

Spencer can’t help but agree with your assessment. The cut was extremely shallow, so much so he’s sure that this victim probably could’ve survived it if he’d gotten immediate medical attention. He checks the other wrist just to be sure, and he’s granted with the same sight, an extremely shallow cut for somebody actively trying to kill people.

“So, what? He just sat around for twenty minutes whilst Youlier bled out so he could put the roses in his eyes?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows at the revelation. “What sense does that make?”

Can they be sure that they were inserted post-mortem?

Spencer walked around the table towards the autopsy report to re-read the file in case he’d somehow missed that detail whilst reading it the first time.

Alexander Youlier. Age 22. Died of blood loss with the roses believed to be inserted post-mortem.

He hadn’t missed anything. But then that didn’t make sense. There was no way that the killer would just wait around for almost half an hour for somebody to bleed themselves dry, especially considering that Youlier was found under an open gazebo in a dog park. That would just be reckless. For it to work the roses would have had to be inserted whilst he was still alive.

“Having an epiphany over there or something?” Spencer turns his eyes upwards at your comment, leaving the report on the side table as he walks into Dr Toth’s side office without giving you an answer.

You and Morgan share a glance at his sudden departure, probably the most civil interaction the two of you had ever had, fuelled by the joined want to know what was running through Spencer’s mind.

The door of the office opened less than a minute later, Dr. Toth leaving her office with Spencer hot on her trail. “-reports from the main office so that you can cross-reference them all,”

You only catch the end of their conversation as they enter back into the mortuary, and Dr Toth leaves the room to assumedly go and gather whatever ‘reports’ she was on about from the main office, leaving you and Morgan blankly staring in Spencer’s direction with confused expressions.

“I think that our unsub might be inserting the roses into the victim’s eyes whilst they’re still alive,”

The revelation that the unsub was purposefully dragging out the death of their victims made the team have to rebuild the profile from the bottom up.

Spencer took the opportunity to do some digging. Or more accurately have Garcia do some digging.

He had her pull everything humanly possible regarding your biological parents, their life, their death, and most importantly, how they treated you.

They were 29 and 32 when they died, you having been born when your mother was only 23. They both had a history of substance abuse, and according to their autopsies, both of them had lethal levels of diazepam in their bloodstreams at their time of death.

What was interesting about their deaths though was that they were dead for three days before they were found, rotting in their own house with a six-year-old left living with them. Now that was something that could cause a mental break. A six-year-old, left for three days with the corpses of their dead parents and only found when the neighbours complained about the smell.

The file Garcia had faxed over also happened to have images from the scene when the bodies were recovered, and they were just as disgusting as he’d imagined they’d be. The two were sat paired on a couch, skin pale and turning slightly grey with the beginning signs of decay, small insects roaming on their skin, and the clothes they were wearing.

But the selling point for Spencer was their eyes. Wide open and staring blankly into open space with clouded pupils and ruptured irises. It freaked him out and he was looking at it through a piece of paper. He couldn’t imagine how it made a six-year-old child who lived with them like that for three days feel.

There was the origin of your eye fixation, and he honestly couldn’t blame you for covering the dead stare of your victims so you wouldn’t have to relive that.

The more he read the more devastating the report seemed to be. When asked why you didn’t call for any help from neighbours or the police you stated that you “just wanted them to sleep for a while,” and that your mother would “give me the sleepy pills when she wanted me to go to sleep, so I did the same for her and daddy,”

In an effort to get your parents to go to sleep so they would stop presumably treating you horribly, you’d unintentionally overdosed them both.

You were in a paediatric rehabilitation centre for almost four months after you were recovered from the house. A six-year-old. Being rehabilitated for an addiction to diazepam because your parents would solve any blip in your behaviour by feeding you sleeping pills instead of treating you like the child you were.

All of a sudden forming an addiction at 25 didn’t seem all that detrimental anymore.

He supposes that’s how you knew right off the bat. Addiction recognises addiction and all that. Although by the look of it, you’d made a full healthy recovery by the time you were adopted into your new family.

You’d been diagnosed with ASD after you were removed from the house, and Spencer is surprised by the fact that the mental impact it had on you only seemed to be acute, although, he’s sure that in hindsight the psychiatrist that diagnosed you would’ve made sure to be more thorough in their examination of your mental state.

Still, what happened had happened, and although Spencer nor anyone else could do anything to change that, he could form a greater understanding of who you were and why you did what you did.

Except he still didn’t really know why, he knew the origins, but what was the trigger that caused you to deteriorate mentally until you were back at your lowest possible point?

That wasn’t important right now.

He needed to focus on the actual case at hand and not the closed case of a serial killer from four years ago. It didn’t matter how much of a fascination he’d formed with your psychology, he needed to focus so that no one else had to die.

It was insane to think about, just how distracted he’d get with uncovering your past like it was a mystery novel that required the reader’s involvement to solve.

But now he really needed to knuckle down and actually put his intelligence forward to help the team find the unsub they were looking for or else earn a chastising from Hotch and up to 13 more victims if they followed your pattern to a T.

Why you though? Why was this unsub following your crimes specifically? Sure some people were mentally deranged enough to want to gain the same notoriety as the killers they replicated, but your case was in a small city and didn’t even make national news. Not only that, it was new. Really new.

Most copycat killers replicated national or even international-level crimes that had decades to form a legacy and settle into the back of people's minds. Your case wasn’t like that. Not to the full extent anyway. The state of California had recognised you as a prolific killer but in any other state your name was unknown.

So why you?

Spencer watched intently as the team scribbled down notes and ideas on the whiteboards taking up most of the room, leaving him sitting at the head of the conference table with his files on your background and you engaging yourself in the pass-time of making origami cranes out of discarded bits of paper to stop yourself from getting bored.

A serial killer replicating your crimes almost step by step. Bleed out the victims, put roses in their eyes, move on. Same victim pattern. Same time frame. But still with distinct differences.

This unsub bled their victims out considerably slower than you did. They used red roses instead of white roses like you did. They left the thorns on the rose stems when you pruned them beforehand.

Why did this unsub not de-thorn the roses first? After five separate murders, why would they not make their process easier by discarding the thorns to stop them from tearing up the victim’s eyes?

‘I figured it out after my first try.’

“Hey uh-” Spencer turns his head up towards you, tapping his pen absentmindedly against the table. “Do you remember what happened to your first victim? After your parents?”

“What?” You furrow and then raise one of your eyebrows at his sudden question, especially because he’d been sitting in his own little cocoon for the last thirty minutes.

It was quite a long shot of a question if you had been experiencing mania at the time, but you seemed to be remembering select details about your spree, so your first victim surely should be present in your mind at least somewhat.

“How did you… You know-” Spencer’s roundabout question was half amusing and half frustrating from your viewpoint, and you take a break from your paper crafts to indulge in it.

“Well…” You drag out the word and you divert your eyes from him to stare upwards towards the ceiling like it’ll aid your memory. “I incapacitated her first, with a… brick I think? It might’ve been a regular rock I’m not sure-”

“Him.” Morgan’s venom seeps into his correction of your account. “You killed eighteen people and you don’t even have the decency to remember the gender of your first victim? Seriously?”

“I do know my own victim pattern thank you very much,” You override Morgan’s correction with just as much ferocity. “ And it was definitely a woman. I chose her specifically because she’d be easy.”

“That’s not what our files say.”

“Then your files are wrong? What do you want me to do about it?”

Spencer runs over your victims in his head. Your first filed victim’s name was John Brandy, found lifeless on a park bench after a woman walking her dog called it in to the police.

He tried to remember any other things he’d read about your case that might indicate that Brandy wasn’t your first victim. Nothing. John Brandy was the only thing he could affiliate with the identity of the first victim from your spree. And most notably, Brandy was very male.

“…What did you do after you incapacitated her?” Spencer slowly edges his way back into a conversation between you and Morgan, mind on full alert as it continues to run through all of the details he knows about you and your case.

“I moved her against the like wall of the street we were down and then did the rest of it,” You shrug your shoulders in mild scepticism of Spencer’s sudden interest in this specific kill of yours. “You know, cut the wrists, wait a few minutes, then stick in the roses. Although I’m pretty sure I got one rose like half in because the thorns were being difficult and I gave up when she started twitching,”

You exhale exasperatedly. ”That’s probably why she’s not ‘in your files’, because the rose I did try and do wasn’t even fully inserted and probably just fell out or something,” You glare pointedly at Morgan, tilting your head back and forth in condescension. “It was my first time alright? Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Sure everyone’s gotta start somewhere. When it comes to working a job or starting a hobby. You don’t usually ‘start somewhere’ when it comes to murdering people.

It’s the fact that you say it so nonchalantly that gets to him, talking about your murder spree of eighteen people like it was you learning how to bake a cake. Nineteen people. You’d actually killed nineteen people in your spree, and your poor first victim probably didn’t even get given the light of day that the rest of your victims did when it came to justice.

“Morgan,” Hotch’s voice proved to pull Spencer out of yet another spiral consisting of endless questions surrounding your psychology, even if not directed at him. “Call Garcia and have her pull up any unsolved murder cases that involved two slit wrists and trauma to the eyes in Malibu during the time they were active as a killer,”

“On it,” Honestly, Morgan would’ve taken any excuse to get out of your presence for a few minutes, feeling the overwhelming urge to punch you square in your face grow stronger with every snippet of information about yourself that you shared out loud without a single care in the world.

Did it have anything significant to catching this copycat? No. But that victim deserved just as much justice as any of your others.

One profiler down, the rest of the team turned back to fleshing out the profile, and you turned back to your half-finished paper crane, muttering to yourself under your breath about something that Spencer couldn’t quite hear.

“Okay, so we’ve ruled out mania as a possible cause of the kills because of how long it took for them to bleed out, we’ve ruled out paranoia because of the victim pattern following the original to a T instead of being random, it could be some form of ASD but that doesn’t really make sense with the rest of the profile-” Emily scans over the notes of the whiteboard as she speaks, picking absentmindedly on the red polish covering her nails and leaving small flakes of it all over the table by where you’re sitting.

“Would you stop doing that?” You make a show of wiping the table with your hand, and Emily doesn’t respond to you with more than a glance as she stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“Alright babygirl thank you,” Morgan sends a kiss through the phone before hanging it up and putting it away in his pocket and you swear you almost gag at the sight of it.

“Nothing,” Morgan shrugs his shoulders half out of resignation and half out of frustration as he takes a seat opposite you on the table. “There are no unsolved murders matching the description you gave us,”

He glares into your eyes like he’s trying to burn them right out of your eye sockets. “So? What is it? You get a kick out of lying or what?”

“Do I look like the type of person who makes the effort to lie? Because news flash, I don’t, it’s not like saying I killed one more person than I actually did benefits me in any way,” You furrow your expression with a scoff, leaning back in your chair to rest your ankles on the table.

“Right, sure, because someone like you totally doesn’t care about how they’re perceived by other people,”

“Why would I want to say I’ve killed more people than I actually have, it just makes me look more crazy than you already think I am-” You weren’t backing down on this. You were adamant that this person was your first victim and that you weren’t lying to him.

“Then why isn’t there any file of her whatsoever?”

“What if she’s still alive?” It’s like all of the puzzle pieces fall into Spencer’s mind at once, and he interrupts your arguing with Morgan yet again, except this time it’s not about keeping the peace.

“You said you gave up because ‘the thorns were being difficult and she started twitching’, was she alive when you tried to put the rose in her eye?” Spencer turns his gaze towards you, a completely different air surrounding his expression than the mildly awkward and apprehensive one you’d gotten used to.

“I don’t know, maybe?” You shrug like his question was absurd, watching as he stands from his seat to look over the whiteboard detailing the autopsies of each of the victims.

“Reid?” Hotch’s raised eyebrow asked a hundred different questions, and Spencer answered every single one of them with a single phrase muttered under his breath.

“…PTSD by proxy-”

He takes a second to study the photos on the board before continuing. “It’s a psychological disorder where victims of PTSD will project their trauma onto others,”

He pulls a few of the images from the board to lay them out on the conference table. “Of those who develop PTSD from traumatic incidents, roughly 2% then go on to try and satiate their trauma by projecting it onto other people,”

“If what you remember about your first victim was true and she survived, then there’s a high chance that the new killer we’re looking for is that first victim,” He arranges the autopsy photos in two groups, with one of the wrist gashes and the other of the eye damage.

“The victims bled out slowly, which in a lot of cases with first-time murder or murder attempts happens unintentionally because the killer doesn’t know how deep a cut like that has to be for it to be fatal,” He points towards the photos on the left first.

“And then the eyes would be pretty self-explanatory,” He turns one of the photos towards where you and Hotch are sitting. “If your first victim was in fact alive when you tried to pierce her eyes then that could explain why these victims were also still alive when the roses were inserted,”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Emily chimes in with her two cents as Spencer gives his explanation. “We’re in a completely different city,”

“And it’s been three years since the original spree,” Rossi swirls the coffee in his mug with a furrowed expression.

“Well Las Flores is only an hour's drive from Malibu,” Spencer moves from the table to go back over to the annotated map on one of the boards, marking an invisible line with his fingers. “Maybe she decided she needed to get away from her trauma, 46% of individuals who experience life-changing trauma do,”

“But why now?”

Spencer’s eyes turn back towards you at Rossi’s question, as if you held all the answers to what the stressor was for this sudden murder spree. Your answer of course was nothing more than a shrug and an expression that asked ‘How am I supposed to know?’, which put a halt to Spencer’s theory.

That, and the fact that they hadn’t even confirmed if this woman was still alive let alone living in Las Flores.

“Alright,” Hotch cut through the team’s conversation with a wave of his hand. “Morgan, ask Garcia to track down women who went into the hospital for ocular injuries three years ago and have moved to Las Flores since then,”

Morgan gives him a determined nod as he leaves the room once more, Hotch then turning his attention towards you.

“What have you done in the last few months that would’ve been told to the public?”

“I don’t know?” You give him an exasperated expression and raise your hands in a defensive manner. “Why would I know that? It’s not like I have someone telling me when I’m on the news,”

Hotch furrowed his eyebrow at your immediate defensiveness, reminding himself to be patient and bear with your short fuse because it technically wasn’t your fault.

Although it didn’t make it any less frustrating either way.

He turned his eyes towards Spencer, gesturing towards the door and then towards you as a silent order for him to speak to you privately outside.

If anyone was going to be able to get a piece of information out of you, consciously or subconsciously, it would be Spencer.

It took him a few seconds to compute Hotch’s message, but as soon as he did he stood from his seat, mug in hand.

“I’m going to make some more coffee, do you want some?” Spencer gives you a small and slightly awkward smile as he looks at you, and you raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“You don’t know how to make my coffee,”

“You can show me,” Spencer raises his eyebrows enthusiastically, lips pressed taut into a line as he silently prays for you to take the bait. And you do.

You don’t respond with more than pushing your chair away from the table to stand, but Spencer follows after you as you leave the meeting room nonetheless, gaining a small nod from Hotch that he returns with one of his own.

In the break room, Spencer watches you prepare your coffee, taking mental notes of the precise amount of creamer and sugar you add. He's careful to keep the conversation casual, asking about your preferences and subtly steering you towards the topic of recent events.

"I got a new therapist a few months ago," you admit, stirring your coffee. "She recommended having me moved into psychiatric care." The implication hangs clearly in the air.

"Psychiatric care?" Spencer echoes, his mind eagerly piecing together the information.

“Mhm,” You give him a small nod and you leave the teaspoon on the counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

Now that was something that might’ve been made public. If you had been recommended by a specialist to be moved out of a high-security prison and into a psychiatric institute the local news was bound to know about it.

"You being moved to a psychiatric facility would definitely make the news," Spencer mutters, drawing your attention back to him. "That could be the trigger point for our unsub,"

“Me going to a hospital? Seriously?” You scoff like that being a motive is pathetic.

“Yes, seriously,” Spencer replies, his expression serious. “It could signify a turning point, a change in your situation that the unsub might interpret as you escaping justice. It could be the catalyst that pushed them into action.”

He abandons his coffee mug on the counter as he ushers you back into the meeting room with the rest of the team, and all it takes is Hotch getting a single glance at Spencer’s expression to know that there was indeed a trigger for this murder spree.

“A few months ago, their therapist recommended moving them to a psychiatric facility," Spencer shares the information as soon as you both re-enter the room, "That could have been publicised, potentially triggering our unsub-”

“We found her,” Morgan interrupts Spencer’s explanation as he hurries into the room, phone still pressed against his ear as he reaches over to scribble down the name and address Garcia had recovered.

Louise Nueves, aged 29 was born and raised in Malibu, never having left the city for more than a week her entire life. That was, until she was hospitalised for three days for a severe ocular injury to her left eye.

She left the city less than a week after she was discharged, and supposedly never returned as she settled down in Las Flores instead.

She settled down, got married, started working in a small bakery, and overall just seemed to have a well-rounded and stable life after the trauma that she had endured back in her home town.

Morgan knocked harshly on the front door of her house, gun held firmly in his hand just in case Nueves deemed the threat of their presence as an incentive to act violently. “Louise Nueves, this is the FBI,”

The silence from the other side of the door seemed only to heighten the adrenaline running through the veins of the team.

It didn’t take long before Morgan was looking for permission to force the door open, and once he gained a nod from Hotch that’s exactly what he did, kicking the door handle loose and forcing the door open as the team filtered into the house to search for their suspect.

You were an exception of course, being confined to the entranceway with Spencer as your personal babysitter in case you managed to get yourself into any trouble or think about running off.

You hear an echo of ‘clear’s from the group as they sweep the house, seemingly completely devoid of any human presence outside of the FBI team. Until…

“You guys might wanna come see this,”

Emily’s voice sounded from upstairs, and she backed out into the stairway as she gestured for the team to join her up the stairs.

You give Spencer a look before walking over to the stairs, and his curiosity overrides his need to try and keep you in the entrance as he follows after you with the rest of the team following closely behind.

“This little bitch-“ The sight you were greeted with would’ve been extremely disturbing under normal circumstances, a corpse of a man - presumably Nueves’ husband - lying in its first stage of decay on the bed of the house’s master bedroom, a red rose resting on his chest.

Instead, your response was more angry at the blatant lack of originality in the way he was killed.

"Copying my kills is one thing," you spat out, your eyes burning with rage. "But having no innovation or creativity of their own? That's just pathetic." You crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze fixed on the lifeless body in front of you.

"Unique or not, it proves our hypothesis of who the copycat is," Morgan retorted, his gaze hardening at your callous words.

You rolled your eyes, huffing in annoyance. "Great."

Ignoring your sarcasm, Hotch spoke up, "We need to find Nueves before she kills again. Morgan, Reid, you're with me. We'll check her workplace. Rossi and JJ I want you to track down some of her friends, maybe they've noticed something off."

As they left, Emily turned to you, her eyes scrutinising. "What about them, Hotch? Do we just leave them at the station?"

"No," Hotch replied without missing a beat. "They’ll stay with you as you monitor the area. Keep an eye on them. We don't know how they might react now that their 'legacy' is being threatened."

With that, they left you in the company of Emily, the silence in the room amplifying the eerie sight of the corpse on the bed.

The tension was still very apparent despite you and Emily having no previous background, and you could tell that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with your company as the two of you left the house just as the authorities arrived, presumably called by Hotch as they left the scene.

“How does it feel to babysit a grown adult instead of doing something important?”

Emily shot you a sideways glance, her lips forming a thin line. "I'd like to think that keeping an eye on a serial killer counts as important, don't you?" she retorted, her voice icy.

“You’re supposed to be finding a serial killer, I haven’t done anything in years, what makes you think that I’m the threat?” You can’t help but scoff at her intonation as she speaks to you, it feeling oddly derogatory considering that you couldn’t even remember what her name was. “That’s some audacity alright,”

Emily narrowed her eyes at you, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "You may not think so, but your presence here is still a potential risk," she said, her tone sharp. "And until we know more, I'm not taking any chances."

She quickened her pace, leaving you to catch up as you followed her out of the residential area and into a nearby public park. Emily’s eyes scanned the area like a hawk as she walked, making you roll your eyes. “You really think she’s just going to be hanging around right next to her own house?”

Emily's gaze flickered toward you, her expression unyielding. "We're not looking for Nueves herself. We're looking for any clues, any signs of her recent activity or whereabouts," she explained tersely. "Every detail matters in a case like this."

She continued to lead the way through the park, her pace steady and purposeful. Despite your scepticism, you couldn't deny the intensity in her demeanour, the determination to solve the case weighing heavily in the air between you as you reluctantly tailed her like a toddler on a leash.

As you walked, Emily suddenly halted, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a lone figure sat on one of the park benches with their back to the two of you.

“Oh come on, it’s the middle of the day, of course there are people in the park.”

“Be quiet.” Emily approached the individual with her words barked out between her teeth. As you drew closer, you could see the figure was a woman, her head bowed and shoulders slumped. Emily called out to her, her voice firm yet cautious. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you alright?"

The woman looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, quickly wiping at her cheeks. "Just... just having a moment." Her eyes seemed to flicker downwards towards Emily’s vest in confusion but she didn’t make any move to mention it.

Emily studied her for a moment longer before nodding, her hand slowly retracting from her weapon. “Alright. Just be careful out here, okay?” she advised before motioning for you to follow as she continued on the path.

You glanced back at the woman, her eyes following you in a mix of her previous sadness and confusion, seemingly unsure of how she should feel at an apparent FBI agent approaching her out of nowhere and then advising her to ‘be careful’.

“It’s you.” The new voice turns both of your heads in its direction.

Standing a few feet away was a woman and her dog, her demeanour tense yet strangely familiar. She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and recognition, her eyes lingering on Emily’s vest for a moment before returning to you.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow at the bluntness of her recognition of who you were, furrowing your eyebrows dismissively like she didn’t have the right to have recognised you in whatever way she had.

“You don’t know me?” Her tone carried a clear betrayal, as did the furrow in her eyebrows as she took a step towards you, one which Emily retaliated to by forcing you behind her with a heavy grip on your arm, one which you did not appreciate whatsoever as you pulled yourself from her grasp.

“Mrs Nueves?” Emily’s voice held a mix of apprehension and concern as she spoke, and she reached into her back pocket to thrust her phone into your hand before holding her fingers ready over her gun holster.

“You don’t remember me, do you? The woman ignored Emily completely, her voice tinged with bitterness as she stared at you, her features filled with betrayal as she realised you weren’t even looking at her, too preoccupied with trying to figure out why Emily had given you her phone.

“Mrs Nueves, my name’s Emily, I’m with the FBI, I understand that what you’re going through right now is extremely difficult but-”

“Shut up!” Nueves’ voice was harsh and drenched in ice as she spoke, holding her hand up dismissively. “I don’t care about you or your FBI friends-”

You had your back to the two by this point, and after a message had come through from Spencer about Nueves not being at her workplace you figured that the reason Emily as given you the phone was to get backup from the team.

oh. Right.

‘shes in the park by her house’

Of course she was. Because she was continually proving to be one of the stupidest people you’d ever encountered. Who decides to take their dog for a walk in the park two minutes from their house whilst being actively pursued by the police? Stupid people, that’s who. God, couldn’t the person copying your crimes at least be a competent one?

‘We’ll be there in ten minutes. Hold tight.’

“Look at me!” Nueves’ raised voice caused multiple heads to turn from the people wandering the park, including your own, and you turn your eyes away from the phone screen with a furrowed expression of annoyance.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me? How much I suffered because of what you did?” Nueves’ outbreak was very quickly garnering an audience from passersby, and could could practically feel the tension rolling off of Emily in waves as she tried to figure out what to do.

“You lived, get over it,” You were not helping.

The look on Nueves’ face at your words was almost incomprehensible, like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to be feeling at your nonchalance about what happened. Like you hadn’t ruined her entire life and caused her eternal suffering.

“Get over it? Look what you did to me!” Nueves barked out her words as she brought her left hand up to her eye, pulling at it until the sclera fell into the palm of her hand, leaving a dark pink void in its wake.

Your eyes immediately widened at the action, eyebrows furrowed in clear distaste for what you’d witnessed and that uncomfortable feeling that you’d experienced in the coroner’s office rising in your stomach the longer you looked at her.

“This is my life now.” She held up the piece of glass in her hand. “This is what I have to live with because of you.”

“Mrs Nueves-” Emily took a small step forward in her direction with both hands raised to appear as not threatening as possible.

“Don’t move-” Nueves dropped her dog’s leash at Emily’s advance to pull a small kitchen knife from her pocket, similar to one that would be used to cut vegetables or peel a potato.

Emily’s shoulders tense at the emergence of the weapon lips pursed into a tight line, and you’re sure that you might’ve been mildly concerned yourself if the knife blade wasn’t smaller than its handle. It didn’t make her look as intimidating as you assume she thinks she is, more like a teenager who carries around a switchblade in an attempt to make themself look tougher than they actually are.

Then again, this woman had actually killed people. Just not very well.

Still, if she thought that was a ‘big’ knife then her husband must’ve not been very satisfactory when it came to the bedroom.

"Put the knife down, Louise," Emily's voice was stern yet calm, her gaze unwavering. "We can talk about this, help you get the help you need. But first, you need to put the knife down."

Nueves seemed to consider this for a moment, her grip on the knife wavering. But then, her expression hardened, her eyes filled with a cold determination. "No," she stated firmly, "I won't."

“Mrs. Nueves,” Emily tried again, her voice laced with a calm authority, “you're not a killer. You're a victim, and we want to help you.”

Nueves let out a bitter laugh at this, her gaze never leaving Emily's. “A victim?” she echoed, her voice filled with scorn. “I stopped being a victim the moment I stopped letting them control my life.” She thrusts her arm forward with the knife in hand to point it in your direction, thankfully too far away for it to actually be anywhere near harming you. “You left me alive and it ruined everything.”

“I had to live with the pain, the nightmares, the constant fear. I had to watch my life fall apart while you just moved on to your next victim and left me without so much as a footnote in your confession." Nueves continued, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "You think I'm the one who needs help? You're the monster, not me!”

“You had a hard time. Boo-hoo. But guess what? You're not the only one who's had to deal with shit. You're not special, Nueves.” You replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nueves' eyes flashed with anger at your dismissive words. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't get to belittle my pain. You don't get to decide how I should react to what you did to me."

"Actually, I do," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm the one who put you in this position. I'm the one who made you who you are today. And you know what? I'm not sorry. Because without me your life would’ve been completely insignificant.”

“Maybe I am a monster. But you, Nueves, are just a sad, pathetic little girl pretending to be a serial killer.” Nueves' face twisted with rage at your words, her grip on the knife tightening. But before she could react, Emily stepped in, her voice calm and authoritative.

“Enough,” she commanded, her gaze fixed on Nueves. “This isn't helping anyone. We're here to bring you in, Louise. To make sure you get the help you need.”

“I don't want your help,” Nueves spat back, her eyes still fixed on you with burning hatred. “I just want them to pay for what they did.”

“They are Louise, they’re paying for their actions every single day in a high-security prison,” Emily stated, her gaze unwavering as she shook her head gently. “They’re getting their punishment, you don’t have to do this, please, just put down the knife…” Emily’s eyes caught the SUV that parked on the side of the road as she talked. Looks like she’d managed to buy enough time for backup to arrive.

For a moment, it looked like Nueves might actually consider following Emily’s suggestion. But then she glanced back at you, her gaze hardening at your stare of indifference. “No,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “I won't let them get away with this. I won’t let them have control of how I live my life anymore.”

Nueves’ ramble deemed her oblivious to the agents approaching her from behind, ushering the few lingering witnesses to a safe distance away so that they could contain the area, and your eyes caught Dr Reid carefully scooping up the leashed dachshund into his arms after it’d scampered away from Nueves in her fit of rage.

“You don’t remember me?” Her eyes turned from seething to desperate in the split second she looked at you, voice raised as she tried to force your attention back onto her from your seeming uninterest in the confrontation. “You will.”

Morgan didn’t even have time to un-holster his gun before Nueves utilised the knife in her hand. Not on Emily, nor on you, but on herself, impaling the blade of the knife directly into her operational eye and forcing it deeper by slamming the palm of her hand into the wooden handle until it was almost completely encapsulated into her eye socket.

The sight was ghastly, blood spurting out of her eye as she fell onto the ground, convulsing from the pain and shock. You watched, a morbid fascination in your eyes as Emily quickly called for medical attention, her gaze flitting between you and the dying woman on the ground.

As the medics rushed to stabilise Nueves, Emily looked at you, her face pale. “You-” She said, her voice barely a whisper, “stay here.” She then hurriedly joined the medics, leaving you behind. You watched as the medics tried to recover her, but it was clear that her chances were slim. The sight of her writhing in pain, the blood pooling around her, was oddly satisfying to watch. A small, twisted part of you felt a sense of triumph at the confrontation's results, if not a little discontented with just how dramatic this woman proved to be.

The rest of the team moved to properly secure the area now that it was officially a crime scene as Emily, still with the medics, was applying pressure to Nueves' wound, her hands smeared with blood.

As you watched the scene unfold, a bizarre sense of calm washed over you. This chaos, this pain, was a result of your actions, your legacy, and despite the horrific circumstances, you couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

From a distance, you could see Hotch talking to Emily, his expression unreadable. Emily nodded, her eyes briefly meeting yours before diverting away. She looked shaken, the dark red of Nueves’ quickly oxidising blood on her hands a stark contrast against her pale skin.

You tried to imagine the emotions she was grappling with. After all, she was a part of a team that had sworn to protect innocents from people like you. And now, because of you, she had blood on her hands.

The medics finally lifted Nueves onto a stretcher, rushing her towards the waiting ambulance. Emily stood there for a moment longer, watching as the ambulance sped away, before finally turning her eyes towards you, unfocused on how Morgan was gently trying to usher her towards another pair of EMTs so that she could be checked over.

There was zero chance Nueves was going to make it to the hospital in time.

Emily’s gaze was hard, filled with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something you couldn't quite place. Fear, perhaps? Or maybe disappointment? Regardless, it was clear that the events of the day had left a deep impact on her.

As you watched them walk away, the satisfaction from earlier began to fade, replaced by a strange emptiness. You were alone again, left with nothing but the aftermath of your actions. And as you stared at the spot where Nueves had fallen, the blood still fresh on the grass, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all worth it.

But then, you remembered the look on Nueves’ face, the horror in her expression at her own pain. And you knew, without a doubt, that it was. Maybe she was right, you just might remember her for that stunt she pulled, although most definitely not in a positive light.

“Are you alright?” The ever-calm voice of Spencer Reid pulled you away from mulling over your own feelings, and you give him an animated sway of your head back and forth as a silent communication of you not falling in either emotional direction.

It truly was fascinating how removed you were from everything, and as twisted and convoluted as it might sound, Spencer wasn’t looking forward to your departure from accompanying the team. It meant that he didn’t get to speak to you anymore. Didn’t get to slowly peel away the layers of protection you’d built over your psyche so that he could pry at your inner workings.

And he didn’t exactly mind having you around. But that was something he was going to keep to himself for a multitude of reasons.

“It’s all too over the top for my taste,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, stretching your arms above your head. “Here, it’s the one with the ponytail’s,” You hold the cell phone out between your thumb and index finger like it might give you a disease if you hold it properly.

“Why-” Spencer starts his question and is immediately interrupted by your answer. “She gave it to me to message one of you where we were,”

So it was you who’d messaged him then. He thought the punctuation was different.

“Right, that makes sense,” He takes the phone from you with an awkward smile as he puts it away in his back pocket. “Thank you,”

You give him a short hum in reply, crossing your arms over your torso and leaning back and forth on the balls of your feet like you were becoming bored with just standing around. You’d just been a potential hostage at knife point and then watched someone graphically commit suicide specifically to gain your attention and less than five minutes after it was over you were looking for something new to capture your attention.

It utterly fascinated him. You were fascinating.

And you were leaving.

Literally.

You were walking away, obviously having had enough of Spencer’s silence and wandering off to find Hotch and maybe experience something more enticing.

“Hey-” Spencer called out to you as you began to walk away, and you stopped with a glance over your shoulder and a raised eyebrow. “What are you feeling right now?”

You stuff your hands in your pockets at his question, turning 180 degrees to face him once more with a slightly furrowed expression as you tried to figure out the motive behind his question.

“I wonder if she saw the afterlife.”

Spencer’s shoulders drop at your admission, his expression morphing into a mix of understanding and confusion, contradiction written all over his features.

You seemed more objectively curious than humanly concerned, but you still were curious nonetheless.

That was another fascinating part about you, or just about sociopaths in general, he supposes. But he wasn’t speaking to every sociopath in existence, he was speaking to you. So it was less about sociopathy and more about you specifically.

“Do you think she saw the afterlife?”

“Logically, she didn’t have any eyes so she wasn’t ‘seeing’ anything, but metaphorically I’d like to believe so,”

Spencer has to stifle a surprised laugh at your morbid joke about Nueves’ condition, pressing his lips into a tight line with a small nod as he tried to focus on the second part of your statement. “Me too,”

There was a small sense of deja vu surrounding your conversation as the two of you fell into a mutual silence, hastily interrupted by Hotch calling the two of you to gather with the rest of the team now that the case was officially over.

You noticed the distaste in Emily’s gaze immediately, looks like you’ve gained yourself another detractor. She and Morgan stood side by side with matching expressions as the two of you joined them, although neither had time to make any comments as the team loaded up in the SUVs to head back to the station.

It was rather hard to believe it’d only been six days in Las Flores, but dates don’t lie, and by the time you stepped back onto the BAU’s private jet, it felt like you’d only left it for a matter of hours.

Nueves’ face was fading from your mind by now, as was her name, and as you plopped yourself down on the same seat you’d occupied on your flight from Quantico, you’d almost forgotten that she even existed.

Your mind was more preoccupied with what was going to happen next. You were going to fly back to Quantico, be recovered by California state officials, and taken back to the concrete hell of the California Correctional Institution until your appeal to be moved to an inpatient psychiatric care facility was considered and ultimately rejected because they still deemed you ‘too dangerous’ to be around vulnerable individuals despite sharing mental issues with a lot of them.

Spencer gave you an awkward wave as he walked down the aisle of the cabin and stopped at the seat opposite you, hoping the movement would grab your attention.

“Do you-” He half gestures to the seat facing you with his hand, and you dismissively wave him into it as you return your attention to the window. “Thanks…”

You give him a hum at his politeness but otherwise remain uninterested in his presence, fastening the seat belt over your lap as the jet pilots prepare for the five-hour flight back to Quantico.

“What’re you thinking about?” Spencer abandons his original plan to sleep through the entire flight the second he sees the pondering in your expression.

You glanced at Spencer, contemplating whether to confide in him about your concerns. Out of everyone, he was probably the one person you’d met on the team who seemed genuinely interested in your experiences. He was one of the few who could understand the complexities of your situation. With a sigh, you decided to open up a little, "Just thinking about what happens now. Back to the concrete hell of my enclosure I guess.”

“I thought you were appealing the decision? That’s why you agreed to help, isn’t it? So the officials are more likely to accept your appeal?” Spencer tilts his head slightly in your direction, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he curled his legs under him in his chair.

“You really think that it’s actually going to do anything?” Your voice is dripping in sarcasm as you let your head fall back against the seat. “They’re seething enough that I didn’t get the death penalty, there’s no way they’re going to cut my sentence,”

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t,” Spencer blinks at you with a mildly furrowed expression. “You’re not an active threat to anybody, and having the help that you need could greatly improve your quality of life,”

“Yeah well you’re not the person who’s going to be analysing my case, so your opinion doesn’t really matter in the greater span of things does it, Dr. Reid?” Your tone carries no malice in your statement, although it comes off much more rude than he’s sure you mean it to be.

His opinion could matter. He knows that as a part of the evaluation you’ll have to go through Hotch will have to write a report on how you acted during the case. Maybe he could put in a few extra things he’d experienced with you. He’s sure that the psychiatrist assessing whether you were actively violent would benefit from knowing how much you adored your parents, how you wondered if your childhood pet was in the afterlife and how you engaged in a genuine emotional conversation with him despite all of your social stunts from your disorder.

You obviously still had your humanity, so he didn’t see why they wouldn’t allow you to have the facilities to improve your mental state to a point where one day you could possibly be a functioning member of society, or at least be in a position to help researchers understand more about your condition.

“Having optimism about an upcoming situation has proved to actually affect the outcome of said situation, with 36% of people who had been optimistic about negative situations physically affecting the outcome of those situations based on their outlook alone,” Spencer presses his lips into a line, another one of those awkward smiles that you’d become used to over your time with him.

“I prefer realism, but I suppose I’ll take that into account,”

“That’s all I can ask,” Spencer gives a soft exhale at your inadvertent agreement to take his advice, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’ll visit you once your appeal has gone through,” The statement fell out of his mouth without any real thought behind it, simply a reflection of his brain deciding he wasn’t quite done with your company yet despite the case officially being over.

“Of course you will,”

Spencer gives a short laugh of mild embarrassment. “Of course I will.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #asks 🫶#mgg #bloodied roses 🥀

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sugrhigh · 3 months

Text

HOTBOX 2 - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

part one

summary- matt smoked with his best friends for the first time, and after you guys get home his dirty thoughts about you finally come to life

warnings- SMUT !! so don’t read if ur uncomfy, swearing, unprotected sex, slightly subby!matt

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: HEHE i had fun writing this so i hope you guys truly enjoy. i will be working on boy next door and a beautiful fall req i just received, but until those are posted my inbox is open for any comments, reqs, or sweet nothings xoxo

dedicated to the lovely @awsturn thank you for requesting!!!

@fawnchives @mattswrld @l1ttlefreakk @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick

“oh wow, matt.” nick can’t stifle his laughter as his brother walks through the front door with the rest of you.

he’s got his arm around your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as you move in unison. he promised he could walk fine on his own, but you insisted on being there just in case.

not that he minds the physical contact.

“what?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes finally focus.

“nothing you just look…very faded.”

“that’s because he is.” you reply for him.

“hey, so are you guys!” matt argues, and you nod your head absentmindedly as the two of you head past nick to the living room.

“yes, we are. do you want to sit?”

“are you going to?”

you laugh and untangle yourself from his arms once you’re beside the couch. “you don’t have to do everything i do, you know.”

his legs are far less shaky than they were before, but he plops down on the plush cushions regardless. the rest of the group is still chattering in the foyer, and he appreciates the few seconds of alone time he gets with you.

“just wanted to make sure you weren’t leaving.” matt shrugs lazily in response.

“i’m literally spending the night dork.” you remind him, turning to head into the kitchen.

you’re unknowingly giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walk, covered only by those thin little yoga pants, hips swaying back and forth like you’re taunting him on purpose.

he has to force himself to look away, to try and put an end to all of the filthy thoughts churning in his mind. he shouldn’t be thinking them, especially not about one of his best friends.

but matt is too fried to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you. he always has. it’s just harder to hide how much he wants you when he can barely remember how to breathe.

it’s pretty late, so chris and nathan announce that they’re going to his room to play video games. the pair are already bounding down the hall as you return to the living room, equipped with a bottle of water in one hand.

“where the hell are they off to?” you ask with a grin, passing him the drink.

“going to play fortnite or something.” matt replies, taking the water into his own trembling hands.

he tries to ignore the way his fingers pass over yours, tries not to wonder if you feel the same spark that he does just from a simple touch. luckily, nick enters seconds later which relieves some of the tension.

he watches his brother wrap you in a quick hug. “i have to finish editing, but i’ll see you in the morning.”

“you better be up in time for mcdonald’s breakfast.” you point an accusatory finger at him as he heads to his room laughing.

“yeah, yeah, wake me whenever. goodnight matt, drink that water.”

he hears the door click closed a second later, his eyes trained on you as you move to sit down beside him. your thigh is inches from his, but you’re still too far away for his liking.

“are you sleepy?” you ask him as you settle down against the cushions, finally meeting his gaze once you’re comfortable.

“not really.” he finds himself smiling at you, for no real reason besides the fact that he loves you.

you tilt your head to the side, studying him with a look in your eyes that indicates you’re amused. “okay, how are you then? enjoying it?”

his eyes are low and red, watching your lips as they move. he can’t stop thinking about your fingers gently gripping his thigh earlier, the confident tone in which you speak to him, how you handle yourself.

all of that mixed with the weed is making him incredibly turned on. he shifts a little, dropping the water bottle on the couch so he can use his hands to cover his lap.

“yeah, i’m enjoying it.” matt says quietly, unable to look anywhere besides you.

you furrow your brows a little bit, but your grin doesn’t fade, which makes him feel better.

“alright, what’s going on? i know you’re high and everything, but you’re acting a little too weird.” you accuse him, though your demeanor is light-hearted as you nudge your shoulder against his.

he shakes his head just slightly as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. “what do you mean? i’m totally normal.”

matt finds that his voice is just a little too squeaky and quick to be convincing, and he knows he’s not a very good liar, especially when it comes to you.

“come on, i know that’s not true. you can tell me anything.” you push, moving a little bit so that you can properly face him.

the light coming from the kitchen silhouettes your features beautifully, and he can feel the words crawling up his throat. it’s involuntary, but the truth is coming out either way.

“i already told you earlier.”

“what?”

“i just…want you.” he finally admits breathlessly.

this catches you completely off guard, considering you had pushed your previous conversation in the car to the back of your mind. you figured he was just tripping, only saying flirty things because he was so out of it.

your lips part like you’re going to speak, but nothing happens. matt studies your face for any kind of emotion other than shock, but he can’t read you, which makes him anxious.

“i’m sorry, fuck, i don’t know why i’m saying this shit right now, of all times, but you look so pretty and i just…i needed you to know because—” he stumbles over his words, which morph together in the wrong places.

“matt, matt, it’s okay.”

you put a hand on his thigh again, trying to let him know that everything is fine, and he literally twitches from the pressure of your palm being so close to where he needs you.

“don’t do that.” he hisses, unable to control the way he slightly bucks against your fingers.

but you don’t move, because you feel yourself throb at the sight of him growing hard in his sweatpants. all because you touched him.

“matt…” you tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you.

he exhales a long breath before he finally does, his faded eyes wider now, cheeks flushed and brown hair messy from the wind of the car ride home. he looks beautiful, your beautiful best friend.

but matt is way more. you need him to be more.

“are you sure you want this?” you say faintly, leaning in just enough for him to notice.

“do you want this?”

you nod your head slowly, staring at his pink lips, unable to stop wondering if they’re as soft as they look. so you meet him the rest of the way, your mouth meshing against his gently.

matt almost melts at the feeling, and butterflies erupt through his chest. he can’t believe this is happening. part of him wonders if he fell asleep, and is dreaming it all up.

it’s thrilling, how desperate you both are for more, how his tongue slips against yours so nicely, and he has to contain himself when you bite down on his bottom lip every so often.

you pull away and swing your leg over his lap so you can straddle him. he groans quietly underneath you, because your hips feel so nice on his that he already wants to combust on the spot.

and then you lean down to his ear, moving slowly against his hard dick, so close he can feel your breath tickle his skin.

“i’m gonna take care of that, baby,” you whisper, “but you have to be quiet. can you do that?”

matt nods eagerly and you kiss his neck in response, tugging at the skin lightly. his hands travel to your ass, gripping it tightly to force some more friction.

he feels you grin against his throat, and he has to hold back a moan from the combined sensation of your tongue and hips going to work.

you move up to his jaw, across his cheek, back to his mouth, and this time he smiles against your lips. kissing you is just so sweet, even when it’s sinful, and he’s so high and happy it's impossible not to.

you pepper him with a few more quick pecks before crawling off of his lap, crouching down between his knees. he’s already needy, missing having you on top of him even though you look gorgeous at his feet.

matt reaches out to smooth your hair, holding your head in his hand as his thumb brushes your cheek.

“are you real?” it leaves his mouth before he can think.

you let out a breathy laugh, turning your head to kiss the heel of his palm softly. “i’m real, i promise.”

the intimacy of the moment, just that small gesture, is making his heart slam against his ribcage.

you reach up to hook your fingers underneath the waist of his sweats, tugging them down to indicate he should lift himself. matt does just that, pressing his back against the couch so you can slide the soft material down to his ankles.

your run your hands up his thighs before you go to the band of his boxers, pulling so that his dick springs free. he’s already wet and straining, precum soaking his tip, and he’s a little embarrassed by the way you’re looking at it.

but you’re only staring because it’s bigger than you expected, possibly the biggest you’ve seen in person. you’re entranced as your fingers glide over his tip, spreading his wetness across the rest of the base.

“shit…” matt mutters under his breath, throwing his head back against the couch as he fucks himself into your hand slightly.

you love hearing him all breathless, watching his muscles clench in pleasure as you stroke him. but you can tell he’s already worked up enough, so you start to slow your movements to a stop before pushing yourself to stand.

his head snaps back up, surprised by the switch in pace, and then his eyes get wider. you slip your leggings off, reaching for the hem of your shirt after so you can tug it over your head and discard it with your pants.

he loves seeing you exposed like this, every curve, every gorgeous little detail that makes your body your body.

“my pretty girl.” he praises, completely pussy whipped already, and it makes you a little bit shy as you stand before him.

you just like matt so much, and hearing him compliment you in such a personal setting only confirms how much you need him.

“want you inside me.” you murmur, straddling his waist again, sliding your wet panties against his shaft lightly as you get situated.

“please, oh my god—” he’s choking on his own words as you push your panties to the side, lining him up with your entrance.

you sink down on him without warning, feeling that delicious and familiar pressure in your stomach as he fills you up. matt’s hands find their way to your ass again, in a state of complete euphoria from having you wrapped around him.

you both groan, and you lean in so you can attach your mouth to his, swallowing the sounds of your shared pleasure. he helps guide you up and down, slowly at first, admiring the way you squeeze his dick every time he’s fully inside.

“fuck, you feel so good matt.” you whine against his lips as quietly as possible, picking up the pace and moving your hips at a quicker speed, hands on the frame of the sofa to help you bounce.

“promise you feel better.” he manages to respond before having to bite down on his bottom lip hard to contain a moan.

you’re riding him so well, skin slapping skin together ever so slightly. matt uses one hand to tug your bra down so he can slide his tongue over one of your nipples. you arch into his wet mouth, enjoying the way he softly sucks on each of them, swapping every so often.

he loves having your tits in his face so much, and he knows he won’t be able to hang on much longer with the way you’re moving.

“m’close, oh fuck—” his eyes roll back as you rock against him as fast as possible, rotating your hips so he hits a different spot every time.

“that’s it baby, keep fucking me, let it all go.” you command, relishing in the wave that’s taking over you as well.

matt slams you down on him a couple more times before he feels his fingers lose their grip, shuddering as he finishes inside you, breathless and sweaty.

your own muscles tense and you dive into it, releasing all over his cock as you slow your pace due to the overstimulation. you’re also panting as you slide off of him, rolling over his leg so you can sit beside him for a minute.

“that was…wow.” matt sighs happily as the both of you readjust your underwear.

“agreed.” you turn your head to smile at him, leaning in for one more little kiss.

it’s short, but it’s still just as passionate as the ones that came before. you could do it all day, his lips are just that soft.

“we should probably get cleaned up. do you wanna spend the night in my room?” his voice is still hushed once you pull away, and there’s a certain weight behind his words.

“i kinda want to sleep in your room every night.” you reply honestly, and his face lights up again at the confession, because he feels the exact same.

“i think i would kinda like that a lot.”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic

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natashasfilms · 10 months

Text

You’re Losing Me

Summary: Dating a colleague has always been an exhilarating experience. However, as you reach a point where you’re ready to take the relationship further after spending years together, doubts start to creep in. You begin questioning whether you’re the only one putting effort into saving something that seems to be slowly fading away.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: taylor swift’s song “you’re losing me”, angst, fluff, coworker relationship, language, drowning, stabs, injuries, usual criminal minds stuff, use of y/n, lovers to exes to lovers again, not really unrequited love, insecurity, making out, happy ending

Word Count: 7,938 (the longest one shot i’ve written so far…)

Note: It’s been so so so long since I’ve posted anything on here, so enjoy a little Aaron Hotchner one shot! I’m think of writing an Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds series, similar to my Steve Harrington/Stranger Things series, but it may take me a while to finish writing the entire thing. Maybe I’ll write a few chapters and then upload those and write along as I go but I don’t want to do that in case I lose motivation throughout the midst of it. We’ll see what happens! It’s just that I’m super busy but I have such great ideas for this series!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

As the sunlight slowly filtered through the windows, you began to awake from your slumber. Opening your eyes, you gazed at the ceiling and felt the comforting embrace of a pair of arms around your waist. Turning your head, you smiled at the man sleeping beside you and planted a gentle kiss on the top of his head. After disentangling yourself from his arms, you got out of bed.

Quickly, you took a shower, brushed your teeth, and dressed for the day. Upon leaving the bathroom, you found your boyfriend, Aaron, sitting at the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Morning, Aaron.” You greeted him.

He looked up with a grin, standing up to meet you. “Morning.” He responded, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom himself.

You then entered Jack’s room to wake him up and get him ready for school. Seeing him still asleep, you approached with a gentle touch, waking him with a soft rub on his head. “Jack, sweetie, it’s time to wake up.”

Jack groaned, still half-asleep. “Five more minutes.”

You chuckled, playfully poking his cheek. “Come on, buddy. You’ll be late for school.” Eventually, Jack sat up in bed, and you left his room with a cheeky smile.

Preparing breakfast for your two boys, you heard footsteps down the hall. Setting the plates on the table, you watched as Jack settled into his seat. “Thank you, Y/N! This looks good!”

Nodding, you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead before you and Aaron sat down at the table. He reached out to hold your hand as a gesture of thanks, which made your heart flutter with affection.

After bidding Jack farewell and dropping him off at school, you and Aaron began your drive to work. Upon arriving, you entered the office first, as your relationship with Aaron was not public knowledge except to Strauss. You both agreed to keep it quiet to avoid potential workplace issues, though you wouldn’t mind being open about it if the opportunity arose. You weren’t entirely sure how Aaron felt about that.

Sitting at your desk, you watched Aaron make his way upstairs to his office, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention. Your colleagues, Emily, Derek, Elle, Spencer, and JJ, were already at their desks, engaged in friendly chatter while working on their paperwork. You joined in, laughing at Emily and Derek’s playful banter.

At times, you felt the urge to spend more time with Aaron in his office, but you respected his decision to keep your relationship private. However, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were the only one who truly cared about the relationship. Four years together, and you were eagerly awaiting for him to pop the question. But that seemed to be indefinitely postponed. It sometimes felt like you were the only one putting effort into the relationship.

Fortunately, the entire day turned out to be pleasantly light. With no new cases, the office was buzzing with paperwork and fueled by several cups of coffee. Every so often, Penelope would come over to chat with all of you, as she often felt lonely in her own office. Her presence brought joy, and you always welcomed her with a warm smile, her infectious happiness lifting your spirits.

As the day drew to a close, the office was nearly empty, with only you, Aaron, and Elle remaining on the current floor. Elle grabbed her bag, ready to head out.

“See you tomorrow, Elle.” You called out, waving.

Elle smiled back at you. “You’re leaving right now, right?”

You nodded, turning to your desk to organize your files. “Yep, just need to gather these files and hand them over to Hotch.”

Her eyes shifted to the man in question, who was still seated at his desk in his office. “Does he ever sleep?” Elle asked, furrowing her brows.

Chuckling, you stood up. “I’d like to say yes, but he’s practically a robot.”

Elle hummed, and her gaze returned to you. “Do you want me to wait for you?” She offered.

You widened your eyes slightly, quickly clearing your throat. “Oh, no, you go ahead. I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“It’s not a problem, honestly.” Elle reassured you, but you waved your hand dismissively.

“No, really. You can go on ahead. I have to ask Hotch a few questions about the paperwork, anyway.”

You noticed a subtle shift in Elle’s eyes, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” She said, bidding you goodbye before making her way to the glass doors and stepping into the elevator.

Feeling a sense of relief, you let out a sigh, almost convinced that Elle had caught on to your and Aaron’s relationship. Shaking your head to dismiss such thoughts, you collected all the files and made your way up to his office, lightly knocking on the door. Aaron’s voice invited you in, prompting you to enter.

As he looked up from his work, his stern expression softened into one of happiness at the sight of you. You couldn’t help but grin, placing the files on his desk. “It’s late, we should get going.”

Furrowing his brows, Aaron checked the time, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t even realize how late it got.” He admitted, quickly gathering the files and organizing everything for the next day.

Both of you exited the building and walked to your car. Settling inside, you watched Aaron start the engine and drive off, your mind preoccupied with thoughts. You were contemplating whether to broach the topic of taking your relationship to the next level or even considering making it public. Although you should have felt at ease discussing it with Aaron, anxiety gripped your heart, causing it to beat rapidly.

Despite knowing Aaron to be the most kind-hearted man you’ve known for years, you couldn’t help but fear his response. You didn’t want this conversation to become a make-or-break moment for your relationship, yet you also couldn’t bear to keep hiding in the shadows any longer.

Arriving at your shared apartment, you both entered, setting your bags down by the door and turning on the lights. With Jack spending the night at Jessica’s, you and Aaron found yourselves alone, creating an opportunity for you to bring up a potentially important conversation.

Deciding to allow yourselves a moment to freshen up and have dinner before broaching the important topic, you wanted to ensure neither of you went to bed hungry in case the conversation didn't go smoothly.

After showering, having dinner, and relaxing, you finally felt ready to initiate the conversation. Throughout the evening, you sensed Aaron’s eyes on you, and it was time for him to ask what was bothering you.

“You’ve been tense all night.” Aaron observed, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you both sat on the couch. “Is something wrong?”

Your mind raced through different approaches to the problem, but you still didn’t feel fully prepared as you began to respond to his question. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

He arched an eyebrow, pulling you closer by wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Care to share?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves. “Have you ever considered...making our relationship public?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Aaron’s arms dropped from your shoulder. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach, dreading his response.

“Aaron?” You anxiously waited for his answer, but he fell silent, trying to find the right words to respond to you. “Can you please say something?”

Aaron’s face tightened with hesitation as he tried to find the right words to respond to your question. He glanced away, unable to meet your eyes directly, and sighed heavily. “I...I haven’t really thought about going public.” He finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “Our relationship has always been private, and it’s been working for us. I’m afraid of how things might change if we make it public.”

Your heart sank, sensing the reluctance in his response. “But Aaron, we’ve been together for so long, and I’m tired of just hiding our relationship. I want to be with you openly, without constantly worrying about keeping it a secret.” You pleaded, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I know that.” Aaron said, his voice softening. “But we both know how the nature of our work is. If our relationship becomes public, it could jeopardize everything we’ve built here. I can’t risk that, especially for Jack’s sake.”

Frustration and sadness engulfed you, and you felt a surge of emotions welling up inside. “So, you’re choosing your job and keeping up appearances over us? Over me?” You exclaimed, your voice quivering with hurt.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just not that simple.” Aaron replied, reaching out to touch your arm, but you pulled away.

“Then enlighten me, Aaron. What do you mean? Because maybe it’s not simple for you, but it is for me.” You said firmly, your heart breaking. “I can’t keep living like this. I deserve better than this, Aaron.”

He looked torn, his eyes reflecting his own pain. “I don’t want to lose you.” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“But you’re not willing to fight for us.” You responded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Tell me, Aaron. Did you even plan on marrying me?”

His silence spoke louder than words, and it was all you needed to get your answer. The truth hung heavily in the air, and your heart shattered in less than two minutes, your fears coming true. The pain of realization washed over you, leaving you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You desperately wanted things to go back to how they were, to find comfort in the familiarity of your relationship. But deep down, you knew that settling for someone who didn’t put effort into the relationship wasn’t right for you. You deserved someone who cherished and valued you, someone who saw a future with you and was willing to fight for it.

“Looks like you’ve already lost me.” You said, your voice cracking with emotion. You hastily wiped away your tears, determined not to break down completely. Standing up from your spot on the couch, you avoided Aaron’s gaze as you walked away, trying to maintain some composure. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

The realization that the love of your life might not have felt the same way about you as you thought shattered your heart into pieces. You couldn’t bear to stay in a relationship that made you feel worthless.

What made it even more painful was that Aaron had always been the kindest man you had ever known. He had made you feel loved, supported, and cared for, especially during your lowest moments. However, now, you couldn’t help but question everything.

“Dad?” Jack spoke, catching his father’s attention as he helped put his backpack on. “When is Y/N coming back?”

It had been a week since you and Aaron broke up, and the impact of the decision weighed heavily on both of you. In the aftermath, you moved out of Aaron’s apartment, leaving behind the memories of a once loving relationship. Aaron struggled with the reality that you weren’t living with him anymore. He had tried to apologize and convince you to reconsider, but you remained firm in your decision. You believed that taking some time and space apart was essential for both of you to figure out what you truly wanted.

“I’m not sure, buddy.” Aaron replied to Jack with a gentle smile, masking the turmoil within his heart. “Y/N needed some time to think about things, and we both agreed it was best to take some space for now.”

Jack frowned, sensing that something significant had changed. He missed having you around, and it was hard for him to understand the complexities of adult relationships. But he trusted his father and hoped that things would work out for the best.

Despite your desire for space, maintaining it was extremely challenging when you had to work together. Nevertheless, you were grateful that the rest of the team didn’t seem to notice any change in your demeanor towards each other. You made a concerted effort to act as you always did while on the job, which wasn’t too difficult, considering you had always portrayed your relationship as strictly professional, pretending to know each other only as coworkers.

Aaron despised himself for not being open and honest with you that night, for jeopardizing the relationship you had built over the years. He loved you deeply, and the thought of marrying you had crossed his mind countless times. However, fear had gripped his heart. The pain of losing Haley had left him hesitant about committing to another relationship, and he believed he could never truly move on. Yet, you had always supported him throughout that challenging time. Your constant presence by his side, understanding, and care had gradually allowed him to let go of his fears. Before he knew it, he had become deeply attached to you, and his love for you had grown immeasurably.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you that he didn’t want anyone to know about your relationship. Instead, Aaron feared that making it public might endanger you, given the high-stakes nature of their work and the potential risks involved. He wanted to protect you from any repercussions that might arise if their personal relationship were exposed in the often dangerous and unpredictable world they worked in. Although it pained him to keep your love hidden, he believed it was a necessary precaution to keep you safe. After Haley, he didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

Now, he felt utterly foolish. Regret washed over him as he realized he should have communicated with you more openly, explaining why he felt the way he did instead of leaving you to question his love. The pain of knowing that you thought he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, that you believed he was ashamed of you, weighed heavily on his heart.

He wished he could turn back time and find the courage to share his fears and concerns with you, to let you know just how much he loves and values you. The thought of causing you any hurt had never been his intention, but he had failed in expressing himself clearly.

The team sat aboard the private jet, en route to your destination for a new case that demanded your immediate attention. Three homicides, spread across different cities, all linked by a hauntingly similar MO. The victims shared connections that hinted at a calculated pattern, but local law enforcement had hit a dead end, prompting the call for FBI assistance.

Aaron and you purposefully chose seats away from each other, not wanting to add any awkwardness to the already tense situation. As the team delved further into the case, everyone meticulously examined the evidence within the case files.

You scanned through the disturbing details, striving not to let any grimace betray your inner emotions. Over the years, you had grown accustomed to such gruesome cases that it took an emotional toll on even the most seasoned profilers. Yet, you knew that suppressing your emotions was essential to focus on the task at hand.

“Morgan, Prentiss, and Elle, I want you three to check the latest victim’s crime scene and look for anything new. Reid, JJ, and L/N, I need you to head to the coroner’s office and examine the autopsy reports.” Aaron said, making brief eye contact with you for a second before turning his attention back to the team. “Rossi and I will head to the precinct to talk to the local PD and settle in.”

As soon as the jet landed, you, JJ, and Spencer swiftly made your way to one of the BAU SUVs and drove to the coroner’s office to examine the bodies. You were driving the car, while JJ was in the passenger seat, and Spencer was sitting in the back. You conversed with the other two throughout the entire drive, Spencer spitting his genius facts every now and then.

Once you made it inside, the three of you were greeted by the coroner, who led you to the room where the bodies were laid out. Carefully examining the wounds on the victims, you couldn’t help but notice something intriguing. “They’ve all been stabbed exactly twenty times, each stab in a different part of the body.” You stated, glancing at JJ and Spencer for their input. “This was rage.”

Spencer leaned in, his eyes narrowing with concentration. “The repetitive nature of the stab wounds indicates an intense emotional release, possibly stemming from deep-seated anger or frustration.”

JJ nodded in agreement, her empathy guiding her understanding of the crime scene. “Maybe the unsub had a personal vendetta against the victims, and he was trying to send a message with the way he’s stabbed them.”

Spencer couldn’t help but share one of his characteristic and oddly fascinating facts. “Did you know that throughout history, the number twenty has often been associated with completeness and cycles? It’s interesting that the unsub chose this specific number.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, contemplating the possibility. “Or maybe the number twenty was important to him? It could hold some significance to the unsub, and he chose it to exert control or leave a twisted signature on the victims.”

JJ nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the shared curiosity. “It’s definitely not uncommon for unsubs to attach meaning to their actions or rituals. The number twenty might be a representation of something personal or symbolic to him.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, adding on to you and JJ. “Numerology has been linked to criminal behavior in certain cases. The choice of numbers might reflect the unsub’s belief in its power or its alignment with his twisted motives.”

As you carefully examined the stab wounds on the victims’ lifeless bodies, a particular detail caught your attention. There was an absence of significant bleeding around the wound sites. The wounds appeared uniform in depth and angle, lacking the telltale signs of hemorrhage typically associated with antemortem stabbings.

You turned to the coroner with a furrowed brow. “These stab wounds...they seem different from typical antemortem injuries. Is there any indication that the victims might have been submerged in water before the stabbing?”

The coroner paused, considering your observation. “Well, we did find traces of water in the airways and lungs of all the victims during the autopsies.” The coroner replied. “It’s possible they were drowned before the stabbings occurred.”

“He’s drowning them and then stabbing them?” JJ questioned, her arms crossed against her chest. “What about signs of sexual assault?”

The coroner shook her head. “There were no signs of sexual assault in the report.”

Spencer chimed in, his gaze intense. “It’s possible that this unsub’s violent ritual provides him with a sense of release. The act of drowning the victims may serve as a form of control or domination, followed by the symbolic significance of twenty stabs, and perhaps linked to a personal obsession or fixation.”

You added to Spencer’s insight. “The number twenty might hold significant meaning to him, reinforcing the notion that these killings are deeply personal and methodically planned.”

JJ looked troubled, contemplating the unsettling pattern before you. “If he’s targeting the victims like this, he might have a connection to them. Something in their past could be triggering this cycle of violence.”

You nodded your head, your gaze remaining fixated on the lifeless forms. “Let’s head back and meet with the others.”

The three of you met up with the rest of the team at the precinct, where you all gathered around the crime board, sharing your findings and insights from the investigations. As each detail was added to the board, the case started to take shape, revealing disturbing connections and patterns.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but sense Aaron’s occasional glances in your direction. Part of you hoped he would approach you and start a conversation, maybe even attempt to mend what was broken between you both. Yet, another part of you felt a tinge of relief that he hadn’t approached you, as facing him would only reopen the wounds that were still raw.

It had only been a week since the painful breakup, and you found yourself torn between wanting to be understood and yearning for his apologies, and the need to protect yourself from further heartache. The longing for him to realize his mistakes, coupled with the desire to put the pieces of your life back together, weighed heavily on your emotions.

You also couldn’t help but miss Jack dearly. Saying goodbye to him before you left had been one of the hardest moments, knowing that he couldn’t fully comprehend the reasons behind your departure. The memories of the mornings you spent with him, preparing breakfast and engaging in playful moments, tugged at your heartstrings. You had cherished those moments, but you knew that staying in an emotionally draining situation wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

At the end of the day, exhaustion weighed heavily on the entire team, the toll of the stressful investigation demanding a much-needed rest. However, they were confident in the amount of evidence gathered, giving them a solid foundation to construct a profile when they regrouped.

Reaching the hotel, the team bid each other farewell, knowing they’d reconvene in the morning to continue the investigation. You let out a weary sigh as you entered your room, eager to collapse onto your bed. Shutting the door behind you, you finally allowed yourself a moment of peace. Without delay, you made your way to the bathroom, seeking to refresh yourself after the intense day.

Emerging from the shower, you felt more relaxed. After brushing your teeth, you slipped into comfortable sleepwear, embracing the coziness that enveloped you.

As you were about to settle into your bed, there was a knock on your door. Confusion washed over you, wondering who could be visiting at this hour. Walking cautiously to the door, you peered through the peephole and let out a soft sigh upon recognizing Aaron’s familiar face.

You opened the door, raising an eyebrow, giving him the signal to speak. His nervous demeanor was uncharacteristic of the stoic Aaron Hotchner, who rarely showed any signs of anxiety.

“Can I come in?” He asked, and a part of you wanted to roll your eyes at his request, but you held back your emotions. Suppressing a disgruntled noise, you opened the door wider, allowing him to enter your room.

Aaron wasted no time, quickly stepping inside as if he feared you might change your mind and shut the door on him. His uneasiness was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had driven him to seek you out in this vulnerable state.

With the door closed, you faced him, waiting for an explanation as to why he had come to your room at this late hour. “How are you?” He questioned, and you almost scoffed.

“What do you need?” You asked instead, completely ignoring his question.

His heart twinged with pain when he heard your voice, sensing the coldness in your tone, a reflection of the hurt he had caused. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage, determined to make things right. “I wanted to apologize for everything. I hated how things ended between us, and if I could turn back time, I would do so in a heartbeat just so I wouldn’t be the one who broke your heart.”

Your arms were crossed protectively over your chest, and he could see the struggle behind your eyes as you fought back tears. The mere week of separation had been agonizing, making him yearn for your presence more than ever. He longed to hold you in his arms again, to kiss you like they had for the past four years. But he understood that he couldn’t expect you to forgive him so easily.

“Jack misses you.” He continued, his voice laced with regret. “He asks for you every day, wondering if you’ll come back. It breaks my heart each time he does.” Your heart ached for the little boy, whom you had grown to cherish as your own. “And I miss you too, more than I can put into words. I’m willing to do anything and everything to fix things.”

Your gaze locked with his, and he saw the emotions swirling within you. “Aaron, I don’t know.” You began, and he felt his heart drop, fearing your answer. “How do I know you won’t do the same thing again? You’re only saying this because you realized what you had after you lost me.”

He shook his head, almost reaching for your hands but stopping himself, respecting the space you needed. “No, that’s not true. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. Yes, I was an absolute idiot, but I’m not just saying this because I realized what I had after I lost you. You mean the world to me, and I love you. If you just let me show you that I won’t make the same mistake ever again. I want everyone to know you’re mine, and it was never my intention to hide you away. I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.” His voice was filled with sincerity, pleading for another chance to prove his love and commitment to you.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to think of what to say. “Aaron, I think I need some time.” You said, truthfully. “I just need some space to figure out what I truly want. Throughout all these years, I’ve longed for you to prioritize us, but it never happened. Maybe I was too naive to believe it ever would.” Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, avoiding the pained look on his face. “I love you, too, but I can’t ignore the fact that I wanted you to put me first, instead of this job, and to consider a future together. I wanted to get married, but I don’t think you felt the same.”

He was about to say something, but you held up a finger, needing to continue.

“Honestly, I probably wouldn’t marry myself either.” You confessed softly. “I’ve spent so much time trying to please everyone, especially you. It’s been exhausting, trying to be the perfect girlfriend or even a future wife, when it felt like I was the only one making an effort. I sent you countless signals, hoping you’d notice, but it seemed like you didn’t want to acknowledge the cracks in our relationship.”

You let out a deep breath, relieved to have finally expressed your thoughts that had been brewing for months. Opening your eyes, you looked at Aaron, and his broken appearance tugged at your heartstrings. You longed to turn his frown into a smile, to fix everything, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“You’re wrong.” He finally spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening intently. “Of course I wanted to marry you.” He continued, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “But I was just too scared.”

“Scared of what?” You asked softly, urging him to open up.

“Of losing you, though it seems like I already did.” He said, a sad chuckle escaping his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “After Haley, I never thought I would be capable of falling in love again. I had built walls around my heart, convinced it was safer that way. But then you were always there for me and I let myself fall for you, and it scared me.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, and continued. “I couldn’t bear the thought of putting you in danger because of this job, just like I did with Haley and Jack. I blamed myself for her death, and I didn’t want history to repeat itself. That’s why I kept our relationship hidden. I was afraid it would expose you to unnecessary risks.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his heartfelt confession. “Aaron.” You said, your voice filled with empathy. “You didn’t have to carry all that burden alone. We could have faced it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. “I know, and I should have trusted us more. But my fear consumed me, and I made a terrible mistake by pushing you away.”

You walked closer and reached out to gently touch his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “I understand why you did what you did, but it hurt to be kept in the dark. We could have faced those fears together as a team, just like we always do in these cases.”

“I know, and I wish I had the strength to open up to you sooner.” He whispered, leaning into your touch. “I’m so sorry.”

You leaned your forehead against his, savoring the closeness between you. Bringing your free hand to touch his other cheek, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, drawing you even closer to him. “This could have gone so differently if you had opened up to me, Aaron.” You whispered, looking into his eyes with sincerity. “But I still think we need some time apart. Just for a little bit.”

He closed his eyes, absorbing your words, and then nodded his head. “I know, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t oppose it.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, feeling a mix of sadness and hope in your heart. He stepped back, giving you a soft smile, before he turned to walk towards the door. “Wait.” You called out, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around, and without hesitation, you gently cupped his face in your hands and leaned up to kiss him on the lips. It was a tender, lingering kiss, full of unspoken emotions. He held onto your hands, cherishing the brief moments of the kiss, until you finally let go. “Goodnight.” You murmured, your voice tinged with both affection and uncertainty.

He looked dazed, as if he were in some sort of dream, processing the intensity of the moment. He tried his best to speak, finally managing a quiet “Goodnight” before he turned and left your room.

The next day, the team gathered at the precinct, ready to delve into the evidence with fresh eyes after sleeping. However, it was a restless night for both you and Aaron. Sleep seemed elusive as you tossed and turned, your mind consumed with thoughts of everything Aaron had said. Meanwhile, Aaron found himself replaying the kiss you shared before he left, and he couldn’t shake the weight of your words and emotions regarding your relationship and his actions.

After a few hours of relentless effort, Penelope’s expertise paid off, and she managed to uncover a name and address for the unsub. Putting on your bulletproof vests, the team raced to the SUVs, determined to catch the dangerous individual before he could harm anyone else.

Arriving at the address, you were met with an empty house. The unsub was nowhere to be seen, so you scanned the surroundings for any possible clues. Aaron spoke up, his voice firm. “We need to find any leads, any hints on where he might keep his victims.”

The team split up, meticulously combing through the scene, searching for any shred of evidence that could provide a much-needed breakthrough. The tension was palpable, knowing that every moment counted in preventing further tragedy.

As you examined the area, some of the photos on the wall caught your eye. The pictures consisted of different landscapes, however, when you looked more closely, the pictures seemed to be connected despite it being in separate frames. You called the team over and examined the photos, sending them over to Penelope to help find the location.

Penelope’s voice came through on the comms, her excitement evident. “Guys, I think I’ve found something. The pictures seem to be at a park near the house! I’m sending you the address now!”

As soon as you got the address, you raced out of the house and back into the waiting SUVs, speeding towards the destination. Upon arriving at the location, you split into groups. You, Elle, and Emily formed a team, eyes fixed on the abandoned warehouse nearby. Silently, you pointed towards the building, an unspoken agreement passing between you. You slowly and quietly walked, guns at the ready as you approached the structure.

You skillfully maneuvered around the back, while Elle and Emily advanced with their guns and flashlight inside, searching the shadows for any traces of the unsub. As you searched the back and began to think it was clear, you suddenly felt a forceful grip clamp over your mouth, muffling any sound you might have made. Before you could react, a sharp impact hit your head, sending you reeling into temporary darkness.

As you gradually regained consciousness, your surroundings came into focus, and panic washed over you at the sight of the unsub standing before you. Fear pulsed through your veins as you realized you were weaponless and vulnerable. His sinister laughter sent shivers down your spine, and you knew you had to act fast.

His sadistic grin filled you with dread as he taunted you, relishing the power he held over you. Every instinct urged you to escape, but he had already restrained you with a cruel grip, leaving you little room to maneuver. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you desperately scanned your surroundings for any possible means of escape.

As terror surged through your veins, you realized you were next to a lake. The sight of its dark waters filled you with dread, as you knew the unsub intended to use it against you. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you drew upon every ounce of strength you possessed, mustering a deafening scream in hopes that your team would hear you.

But the unsub was swift as well. Before you could make a move, he forcefully plunged you into the icy water. The coldness was shocking, stealing your breath away as he held you submerged. Panic surged through you as you fought against his unyielding grasp, struggling to resurface for air.

Despite your efforts, he held you down, with no chance of escape. Each time you managed to rise, gasping for breath, he mercilessly forced you back into the depths, determined to drown you just like all the other victims.

As darkness threatened to consume you, your mind raced with thoughts of your team. You wondered if they were close, if they could hear your cries for help, and if they would find you in time. You didn’t even know if they were nearby or if the unsub took you to a different location while you were knocked out. The uncertainty only deepened your desperation, as you clung to the hope that rescue was on its way.

As you struggled to hold on, your strength waned, and you found yourself slipping away, succumbing to the relentless pressure of the unsub’s grip. Helplessly, you surrendered to the suffocating darkness that surrounded you. That’s when a sudden, deafening gunshot pierced the air, tearing through the silence.

In the blink of an eye, the unsub’s hold on you loosened, and you were released from his grasp. He tumbled into the water, gone with a well-aimed bullet through his head. Aaron dropped his gun and leaped into the water without hesitation, desperately reaching for your lifeless form before it could go any deeper.

Emerging from the water’s grasp, Aaron clutched you tightly in his arms as the rest of the team rushed to assist. His heart raced with panic, his mind consumed by the fear of losing you. You were unresponsive, your eyes closed, and the once rhythmic rise and fall of your chest had ceased. Time seemed to stand still as he began chest compressions and performed CPR, his every action fueled by a desperation to revive you.

He had tears streaming down his face and his voice trembled with emotion as he begged you to fight, to come back to him. He refused to accept that this could be the end, that he might lose the person he loved with his entire heart once again. The rest of the team looked on, their hearts heavy with concern, but also filled with hope as they witnessed Aaron’s efforts to bring you back.

Derek kneeled beside Aaron, gripping his shoulders with urgency as he tried to intervene. “Hotch! Stop! Let someone else take over!” He yelled, attempting to divert his attention.

But Aaron was relentless, his focus solely on you. He brushed Derek’s hands aside, determination etched across his face. “I won’t stop until she’s awake.” He declared, resuming his life-saving efforts without a second thought. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he continued to administer CPR.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you coughed and sputtered, water escaping from your lungs. Gasping for air, you struggled to find your breath. Aaron’s arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, holding you close as you fought to regain your composure.

“Oh, thank God.” Emily breathed, her hand pressed against her chest, relief washing over her after the initial fear.

Aaron released his hold on you, and Derek immediately enveloped you in a tight embrace. “Babygirl, you scared all of us.” He murmured, still feeling shaken by the close call. Elle, not one to be left out, quickly shoved Derek away and hugged you with genuine concern.

“We should’ve never let you go out there by yourself.” Elle expressed, feeling guilty that they had split up. “I’m so sorry.”

Emily, kneeling beside you, placed a reassuring hand on your back. “We should’ve gone together.”

You shook your head, offering a small smile to your caring teammates. “Stop blaming yourselves. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen. At least I’m okay now.”

“Yeah, but you were dead for a few minutes.” Emily retorted with a scoff, still grappling with the shock of the situation.

You understood their concern, but you also knew that in their line of work, these moments were unfortunately part of the job. You reassured them. “I’m alright now, thanks to all of you.” And Aaron. You thought. You locked eyes with him, offering a reassuring smile. Though he didn’t return the smile, the glint in his eyes spoke volumes, telling you how grateful he was that you were still alive.

The EMT’s thoroughly checked you over, ensuring there were no other injuries, and concluded that you were fine. You sat at the back of the ambulance, swinging your legs back and forth, absently touching the bandage on your forehead where the unsub had hit you.

As you looked around, you saw the scene filled with law enforcement personnel. The unsub’s lifeless body was being carried away on a gurney, wrapped in a white sheet. A mix of relief and anger washed over you. Relief that he could no longer harm anyone else, and anger that he had taken the easy way out, escaping true justice.

Turning to your right, you noticed Aaron glancing back at you from time to time. Summoning some courage, you raised a hand and waved at him. This time, he smiled. A small yet genuine gesture that warmed your heart. Derek, ever the observant one, caught the interaction and couldn’t help but smirk. Playfully, he nudged Aaron on the shoulder, urging him to talk to you. Aaron, true to his stoic self, gave Derek a brief glare, which only made Derek raise his hands in surrender, laughing as he watched his boss walk away.

Aaron’s voice softened as he spoke, genuine concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

You smiled, appreciating his caring nature. “I’m fine, Aaron.” Patting the spot next to you, you invited him to sit, and he obliged. Turning to face him, you brought your legs up to your chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He shook his head, gazing up at the sky. “Don’t thank me. I’m just grateful that you’re alive.” His eyes met yours, and you could see the tears welling up. “I should’ve been there to protect you. I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself.”

You reached out to touch his cheek, trying to console him. “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I made the choice to check the back alone while Elle and Emily went inside. The blame lies solely on the unsub. Please, don’t carry that burden on yourself.” As he attempted to hold your hand, you pulled away slightly, causing his heart to ache. You were aware of your team’s eyes on you and didn’t want to fuel any rumors.

“Sorry, they might see us.” You explained.

He scoffed, refusing to let go of your hands. “I don’t care if they see us. It would be a miracle if they didn’t suspect anything. I was going insane while trying to save your life.”

“Aaron–”

“I want everyone to know about us. I don’t care anymore. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I will not let you go. You mean everything to me, and I’m sorry for everything.” His voice trembled with emotion. “Seeing you out there, not breathing, holding your lifeless body in my arms...I swear I didn’t know what I was going to do if you were gone. I love you, Y/N. And I will love you until the day I die.”

At his heartfelt words, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You pressed your lips firmly against his, cupping his face with your hands. He held onto your hands, responding with passion and intensity. The week had been long and stressful, but with Aaron finally admitting he didn’t care who saw you together, you embraced the moment, cherishing the love you shared with the man you couldn’t imagine living without.

You pulled away slightly, looking deeply into his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Marry me.” Aaron said, his voice filled with sincerity.

The shock registered on your face, mouth agape. “What?” You asked, your heart pounding.

“Okay, this wasn’t the way I planned on proposing to you, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” He chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours. “Will you marry me?”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “I don’t see a ring anywhere.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “The ring’s hidden in my desk drawer at the office. I was waiting for the right time to propose, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Your eyes softened, and your heart warmed at his sweet gesture. “You bought a ring?”

Aaron nodded, gently kissing your hands. “I told you, I wanted to marry you. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, trying to contain your emotions. “Yes, Aaron Hotchner. I will marry you.” You said, a mixture of excitement and love in your voice.

He grinned, relief and happiness evident in his expression. “You will?” He whispered.

“Yes, a million times yes.” You replied, your heart soaring at the prospect of spending your life with the man you loved.

With that, Aaron pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and loving kiss. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the promise of a future together, as partners in both love and life.

“Did you guys really think we didn’t know you two were together all this time?” Rossi questioned, a playful glint in his eyes as the team sat together on the jet, heading home after a successful case. “We aren’t profilers for nothing.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, trying to focus on the paperwork spread out on the table. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the lighthearted teasing. Finally feeling content in your life, you leaned back in your seat, feeling the warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

“It’s true.” Spencer chimed in with a smile. “We always knew you two were dating, but we didn’t say anything because you thought we didn’t know. It’s pretty funny, considering all the looks you give each other when–”

“Reid.” Aaron interrupted, cutting off the young genius before he could go further. The team stifled a laugh as Spencer mumbled out a quick “Sorry,” a sheepish smile on his face, and returned to his book.

JJ grinned mischievously. “Oh, come on, Hotch. We’ve seen the way you look at Y/N, and the way Y/N looks back.”

Elle nodded, adding her own insight. “Yeah, it was kind of adorable watching you two try to keep it a secret.”

You exchanged a knowing glance with Aaron, feeling a mix of amusement and affection. “Well, I guess we weren’t as subtle as we thought.” You admitted, a smile tugging at your lips.

His lips threatened to curl up into a smile, and you noticed it, playfully bumping your shoulders against his. He tried to maintain his composure, looking away and focusing his attention back on the paperwork, but his mind seemed to betray him as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness at seeing that smile, knowing that you were the one who could bring it out in him. He was the tough and stoic leader to everyone else, but with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable and open.

The rest of the team had amused grins on their faces, watching the two of you with knowing looks. Their usual boss, who rarely showed any emotion, appeared so content and happy whenever you were around. It was a sight they cherished, seeing the man they respected and admired, smile genuinely because of you.

As the night grew on, everyone on the jet was asleep, but you and Aaron were still awake. You laid your head on Aaron’s shoulder, your hand clasped with one of his, as he continued looking through the paperwork. It was a habit for him to bury himself in work, even during quiet moments like this.

You gently nudged the papers away, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Stop, you need to sleep.”

“You need to sleep, too.” He whispered, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender gesture.

You sighed softly, giving him a determined look. “Okay, but you have to stop this. You can look at these when we get back, but for now, you need rest.”

A playful grin spread across his face, and he leaned forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Anything for you.”

You gladly kissed him back, feeling a rush of warmth and love for this man. His dedication to his job and his team was commendable, but you also wanted him to take care of himself. He deserved rest and peace, especially after the intense case and the events of the day.

You settled into a comfortable position, still holding each other’s hands, and let the gentle hum of the jet lull you both to sleep. In each other’s arms, you felt a sense of comfort that reassured you, everything had a way of falling into place as it was meant to be.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #angst #fluff #oneshot #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader

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narcissarina · 2 months

Note

I read a hilarious Reddit post of a guy saying “called my wife after I got shot and actually said ‘hey honey, I kinda got shot’ and she was mad I said it like that” and all I can picture is re2!Leon (maybe RC didnt get destroyed, so he’s a cute lil rookie) getting a call from his s/o and s/o is like, in the hospital or something and is like “Hey, just so you know there’s a dude with a gun mugging people. Oh btw, he tried to mug me and I kinda got shot”

Poor pookie is gonna be SO distraught.

LEON WOULD LAUGH AND CRY AT THE SAME TIME😭😭😭 making a short one shot outta this, sorry it took so long😭😭🙏

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

Leon was working a little late so he made sure to tell you, he’s finishing up his report and check his phone for the time. His thoughts drift you, he wonders how beautiful you sleep in your shared bed and how he’ll slowly get on bed—careful not to wake you up until your feel the bed weight shifts and turn to him and ask him that he just got home in a tired tone.

Files were stacked on his desk; messy and pens all over. He picked the papers he should organize, pens in its case. He yawns and keep himself awake with some coffee, he hums as he thought of you.

As if the noise seems to muffle, leaving Leon on his own in his world. His phone rang, snapping him back and took his phone. Its was your number on display, a big grin planted on his face as he picked up, “hey, baby. Need something?” he asked, his tone sweet and loving, “uhm…” your voice was heard from the end of his phone.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m in a hospital right now.” Before you could speak further, Leon hang up the call, adrenaline course through him.

Everything is clean in this room, you were lying in a hospital bed with the monitor beeping. You look down at your phone that shows Leon hang up on you, cutting you off before finishing what you had to say.

You place your phone down near the bed drawer and deeply inhales, you pick up a nurse shouting from outside your room, “sir, you can’t come in there!”

You flinched, tugging the blanket close to you as Leon burst right to the door—sweat running down his forehead, he’s out of breath as he spots you in the bed, “baby, what happened?” he asked, rushing to your side and squeezing your hand as he brought your knuckles to his lips.

“I just want to buy you your favorite food because I was planning to stay up late and wait for you on the dinner table.” He hums and nod, “yeah?”

“There was this dude who’s mugging people,” Leon raise a brow and nodded, “where is he?” he asked, going to call units to find the smuggler. “He tried to mug me and I kinda got shot.” Your lips turn to thin lines as Leon’s face dropped and his mouth open.

Silence comes between you as he let out a small, “huh?” he was distraught, “got shot.” You repeat and laugh it off, “don’t worry I’m—holy shit are you crying?” your tone changing to chill to concern, “are you okay?” he sniffle, he just couldn’t believe that you would laugh it off and go about your day.

He leans close and bury his head to your stomach, “Leon, I’m fine.” You assured, “no, you’re not fine.” He mumbles and you could feel warm liquids from your hospital gown, “I’m sorry, I’ll try to get off work as early as I can and be with you and won’t let this happen again.” He apologized to something he can’t control, you smiled at his warm words and assurance.

“There’s no need for that,” you said, “yes it do.” He insist and called up a friend back to R.P.D to catch the smuggler as he promised you to make that guy apologize for shooting and trying to mug you. What you kept in mind is Leon is just super worried and blamed himself when you get hurt and he’s not there to support you when it happen.

“You’re such a baby.”

“I’m your baby.” You earn a laugh from him as he pulls you into a sweet and tender kiss, “not going to lie, it was kind of funny—but it’s also not funny since you got shot.”

𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏.

#resident evil leon #leon x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon re2 #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #he's my baby princess:3 #my pookie>-<#HE DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU'RE HURT😭😭😭🙏

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minimallyminnie · 10 months

Note

not sure about this one but who do you think would let me paint their nails and what color?

Paint the Nails with Color!

Not quite a fic!

ORTHO IS PLATONIC NO MATTER WHAT.

Cater

“Omg! You wanna do my nails?! Like /srs right??? Of course! Let me post the finished results on Magicam later!!!”

Would like colors that match together. Green and purple would be amazing for him!

Deuce

“Oh! You wanna paint…my nails? N-no! I don’t mind! I’m just surprised you want to do mine! Ok! Choose any color you’d like! I don’t mind!”

Would like red, blue, or black! But doesn’t mind any color!

Leona

“…Just don’t wake me up and I don’t give a damn about what you do to my nails. As long as I can still scratch too. Anyways, nothing too bright. That crap hurts my eyes.”

Black is your best color honestly but he won’t mind a darker color like maroon either

Floyd

“Ooh! Shrimpy wants to do my nails?! Of course! Can I choose the colors? Pretty please? Let me paint yours too!”

He likes any color tbh but he’ll adore bright yellow the most!

Jade

“Oh? You want to paint my nails? I suppose you can, as long as they don’t interfere with my work, I don’t mind at all.”

Jade would probably like magenta and cream to match with his mushrooms!

Kalim

“Ooh! You wanna paint my nails?! Of course you can! Want me to paint yours too? I don’t mind if you want me too! We can have a mini party together!”

He wouldn’t mind any color but would like orange and red with some gold in the mix!

Vil

“Hm you. Do my nails? Hmph, I guess I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mess up my carefully made shape or my cuticles, you can paint them. But at least let me choose my color so I don’t look like some barbarian with a crazy amount of color.”

Will absolutely choose his own colors, usually purple, gold, or black is his go to but if you can convince him to do others he can

Rook

“Oh mon! You’d like to do my nails my beau trickster? Why of course! I would love to!”

Doesn’t mind what color, but he would rather do more muted colors to hide his hands when he’s using his unique spell unknowingly against students. Or Vil’s colors

Ortho Shroud (does he have nails?)

“You wanna paint my nails? Let me search on how to do that…oh! You already know how to? Ok! You can paint my nails then! I don’t think it’ll mess up my coding or leak into any mech my body has so go ahead!”

Definitely a more fun color scheme liker but neon blue all the way!!!

Malleus

“Oh? Child of man, you want to paint my nails? Just a simple mundane thing…you surprise me every day with how fascinating you are…Why go ahead! I’d love to see. If you don’t mind, may I do it for you as well?”

Canonically, he has black nails but for you? I think he wouldn’t mind any color considering everytime he painted them it was black. A new color would be lovely!

Lilia

“Aw! You wanna paint my nails? I am so honored! Hmm…let me paint yours too! Have a little fun with the design!”

He would want bright, fun, colors! Definitely with designs of all sorts! Poisoned red apple with green poison? Sure! A red rose in a glass case? As long as it’s not that difficult! Super experimental in all!

Silver Vanrouge (I’ll die by this)

“Mmm…not too bright ok? I don’t mind if you paint my nails. I’ll…be asleep…wake me up when you’re done….”

A knight that would like to not be the spotlight, par of course he wants colors that aren’t bright. Surprisingly, pale pink or green is what he’d like most.

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jenomov · 10 months

Text

nurse’s office (l.jn)

wc: 2k

the office was cold.

there was never anything comforting about doctor offices. with sick people either coughing or sneezing, it bothered jeno to death.

actually, he had every reason to leave considering there was nothing wrong with him.

after his dance practice with jaemin, the pink haired boy wanted him to go and get checked out just in case there was anything wrong. he never spoke up about something like that. it was strange, but jeno caught on quite quickly when he saw haechan talking to the buffoon around the corner, with hushed voices. jeno had heard his name brought up, and began the trek to the nearest doctor's office. he knew if he hadn't, he wasn't going to be left alone by either of the two because neither knew how to mind their own business.

he had to admit, however, there was something peculiar going on in his wrist that he had no issues in getting checked out. so, there he sat; awaiting for his name to be called.

he'd made sure to sit close to the door that he needed to go through once his name was called. he didn't want to walk by all the people that were actually sick, believing if he had, he would've caught something himself.

no one wanted to see a sick jeno.

with his phone in one hand, he scrolled through his instagram feed, bored out of his mind. the only noise that filled up the quiet room was the constant typing on the computer the nurses did, light chatter from a couple a few rows away from him, aside from several coughs from other patients.

a vein forced its way across his forehead when he sees a post of a certain colored haired prick. it was a picture of the two of them at the dance practice, in the hallways, walking together. jeno was clearly not paying attention to jaemin at all, and hadn't known about the picture whilst the blank expression in the image.

"annoying," he muttered, and almost commented a colorful comment underneath the post when he heard his name get called.

"Lee Jeno?"

he looked up with a half annoyed look in them taking so long to see him, and nodded. "hi. yes."

"i’m very sorry for calling for you so late," you said with a light chuckle, ushering him through the door and letting him follow you down the hallway. "we've been quite busy today."

jeno was going to reply with something dry in false understanding when he noticed the height difference. he wasn't as tall as jisung, his other friend, but he stood at a height good enough to make you look smaller than you really were. he didn't miss the curves of your hips and supple breasts that all tried their best to stay confined in your tight nurse's dress.

as he followed into what looked to be the room he was going to be in, he mentally berated himself for falling as low as thinking provocatively about a complete stranger. he made a mental note to do better at distancing himself from haechan since that was who he was sure was trying to rub off on him.

"you can sit anywhere you'd like. i’ll just check your basics, put it all down in the computer and the doctor will be in so that you can ask all of the questions you need to. now,—" you took the stethoscope from around your neck, and placed the cold metal piece over his heart. "can you breathe in for me? then breathe out slowly."

"of course."

he let you check everything you needed, and was patient when you put all of the information in a file for him. as he waited for you to be done, he drummed his fingers against the cheap hospital bed, eyes roaming along the room, scanning anything he could see. he noted how bland everything looked. it wasn't stimulating at all so he went back to watching you and his breath hitched.

you were squatting as you were finishing up typing the necessary information, resting your body weight on your toes. jeno noticed that there wasn't a chair or anything for you to sit on, and almost thanked the heavens for such an inconvenience (for you).

he was able to see the outline of the pink panties that you had on, and had to readjust the way he was sitting to keep from growing an erection at the sight like some schoolboy. it already annoyed him that you were dressed in such a manner for a nurse's line of work, but he was more put off that he kept ogling you even when he felt bad for doing so. you were just so...

"did you hear me?"

"sorry?"

you giggled. "i said you're all set. the doctor will be in shortly to discuss things further with you. it was nice meeting you, Mr. Lee. have a good one!"

it was a mystery to what had made jeno genuinely speak up in stopping you from leaving the room. when you stopped to hear him out, there was a clear blush to his cheeks (and ears) as he racked his brain on what he was going to say to you. there was nothing else you needed to do for him. what was he supposed to say?

"uh..." he used his index finger to scratch at his temple as he said the first thing that came to mind. "could you check my wrist? it’s been giving me strange shoots of pain for a good while.."

you blinked, and shuffled on your feet as you thought about it. you tilted your head a little with a tiny smile. "well, it's a good thing a doctor will be seeing you, yes?"

jeno felt like he was out of things to say at that point. you were right. you were only a nurse after all. perhaps you weren't qualified to do what he was wanting you to. maybe you had other patients waiting on you to check on. it was quite selfish to keep you in the room with him.

"yes...i apologize. i can wait. thank you."

you visibly pouted, and his calculating eyes caught it before you blanked your expression. "um...well..." you took a peek out into the hallway and found it empty. what if you weren't needed? the doctor you were going to get for jeno was still busy with another patient whom had been having a few asthma attacks so the kid would need a new prescription and some other things...so what was the harm in staying with the beautiful man a bit longer? plus, his poor wrist was hurting him. it couldn't hurt to just go and take a small look at it...would it?

you closed the door, and sent him a warm smile. "let's check out that hand, shall we?"

————

"oh i see… wow, i can quite literally feel the tension in your hand here... how long has it been this way, sir?"

jeno found it incredibly difficult to remember your question with you caressing his hand the way you were and how you referred to him as 'sir’. it gave him a sense of power over you, like his height did. your voice was also a bit soft. everything about you was hard to ignore. he was beginning to feel less and less ashamed by his thoughts with you by the minute. he cleared his throat before answering, "not long. it's not painful but it’s bothersome, if nothing else."

it was also the way you were a bit nestled between his thighs as you checked him out. your cute body in front of him in nothing but a tight, flimsy white dress; your breasts ready to burst out of it. your pretty lips in a pout and your eyebrows furrowed in thought as you studied his hand that he had noticed was a lot bigger compared to yours. another physical difference that he liked very much.

"i see. would you want medication for the slight pain? or is that not necessary?" you asked him, letting his hand go that dropped back into his lap. you already missed the warmth that it provided you. jeno shook his head. "no need. i don't take medication."

"oh?"

"yeah.”

"i see."

the room was silent for a moment, and unbeknownst to either of you, it was filled with sexual tension that emitted from the both of you. he wanted to touch you, and you wanted him to touch you. it was just against everything your job stood for, and you were terrified of getting caught. he was above doing something so out of character, and refused to make such a bold move. it was up to you.

"um...are you...maybe...hurting somewhere else as well? that i should check out?"

the way your eyes peered up at him as you waited for him to answer made his cock twitch painfully against his slacks. he had never wanted to fuck a complete stranger senseless so bad in his entire life until in that moment, looking at you. so oblivious, so innocent, so cute... like a pretty fawn in front of a hungry lion, ready to devour it whole. you whole.

he cleared his throat, and hummed. "since you asked..." he moved his legs further apart, his eyes on you like a hawk. his eyes darkened as he stared you down. "—there is a place that needs immediate attention. will you take care of it... nurse?"

your breathing picked up as you watched him rub a hand down his thigh, taunting you. as nervous as you were, you had the courage to squat down in front of him, between his legs. you kept your eyes on his, and licked your lips. you knew what he was asking of you. there wasn't an unsure part in you. you wanted this. wanted him. even if you got caught and lost your job. it would've been worth it for a man as beautiful as him.

"yes, sir."

"such an obedient girl. just as i imagined."

jeno plucked the pins that were holding your hair up in a neat bun, out and watched your pretty tresses fall across your shoulders. he ran a hand through your hair, and gripped it at the root. "what do you think you'll get if you do a good job?"

you gulped. "a k-kiss?"

he chuckled. "stupid slut,— he grabbed your jaw, the action made your eyes water, but you loved it. “—you'll have the pleasure of my cum running down your throat. that's rewarding enough, don't you think?" you nodded, wanting to take anything he was willing to give you.

the hand in your hair tugged your head back roughly, making you gasp. he frowned. "why haven't you started? what are you waiting for?" 

"i..i th-thought-"

"for a nurse, you sure are a dumb one. get started or someone will catch you in a very compromising position here." there was a hint of amusement in his voice that made your nipples hardened. God, was he turning you on.

"y-yes sir."

you unzipped him, and he let you pull his cock past his boxers and into the cool air. you had him in your hand, and felt how heavy he was. he was big, huge even. had girth and length, which still managed to surprise you as it twitched in your grasp. you let out a puff of hot air, taking him in. he wasn't hairy, but he wasn't clean shaven. neat, which made perfect sense. it matched his personality. you traced your polished finger on the vein near his tip, making him groan. heat rushed to your face when you felt fingers brush against the underside of your clothed breast.

"i won't ask you to take it off, but i do want to see you." he wasn't specific, but you weren't dumb. you knew what he wanted.

"y-yes." you quickly unfastened the buttons to the front of your dress, and let your breasts spill out, the dress halfway buttoned underneath your boobs, holding them against their weight. "is this what you want, sir?" his eyes ate up the sight, hungrily.

"good girl, now suck me off like the good slut you are will ya?”

#jenomov #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno lee #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #jeno #jeno scenarios #lee jeno smut #jeno fanfic

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mango-writes-savvy · 4 months

Text

Gentle Jake Seresin

Prompt from @dumplingsjinson and this post. Hope you enjoy <3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader

While in California you had seen a lot of Top Gun candidates come through, but none stuck out as much as Jake Seresin. Jake was cocky, but at least he could back it up- most times

While he and his team were on a mission, you were stationed on the same aircraft carrier as a medic. You were always hopeful to not see the soldiers in your wing, but enjoyed spending time with Jake. He was rough around the edges but he was kind to you. He always lit up when he saw it was you who would be taking care of him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite medic! How you doin’ Chaos?” he smiled as he strutted into the med bay.

“Hi, Hangman, what can I do for you today?” you responded while filling out paperwork and checking the schedule to see if there was something ordered by the higher-ups.

“I can’t just say hi?”

“Well, normally you want something so, what do you need? I have a lot of work to get done before y’all leave tonight,” you responded after not finding anything in the computer.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, Phoenix asked me to swing by and see if you had any more of that tape. She said it didn’t hurt to take off like the stuff they gave her on land.”

You nodded, “Yeah, definitely,” you started walking towards the cabinet it was in then paused, “Jake. This is the third time you’ve been in here today, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can grab or do for you?” You turned and looked at him carefully.

“Wanna go on a date? With me. When we get back to Miramar,” he leaned against the wall across from you casually, but you could tell he was nervous with how he was trying to keep his hands busy.

You smiled as your cheeks heated from the blood rush. You grabbed a few rolls of tape from the cabinet and walked back towards him. “When you get back tonight, I’ll let you know where to pick me up.”

He grinned as he walked towards the doorway, he spun around to face you and said,” See you when I get back, Chaos,” and gave you one of his signature winks.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him and shooed him off while you got ready for their mission tonight just in case anything went south- getting out extra bandages, pain relief and suture kits.

Jake and his team were flying out an hour before supper and were scheduled to be back by midnight.

It was getting close to midnight and you were starting to get bored waiting in the mess hall, so you decided to start on inventory in the med bay. While walking down the hall, your mind started to wander, wondering where Jake would take you on this date.

You felt a smack then a sharp pain in your head.

“Ow! What the fuck!” You brought your hand to your forehead and when you pulled it away there was blood. While you were daydreaming you missed the shorter doorway and ran head-first into it. “This is why you’re a medic,” you muttered to yourself as you ducked under the doorway and made it to the medic bay.

You managed to get the bleeding stopped and started putting butterfly bandages on the cut with the mirror hanging on the wall.

“Hey- what happened?” Jake rushed over to you and turned your head so he could get a better look at the cut.

“Hey, how did it go? And I’m fine, just bumped my head into a doorframe,” You waved him off and finished putting on the bandages and cleaning up the area.

“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” Jake followed after you, never being far from your side.

“I mean, I’m fine so it’s fine—“

“No it’s not okay! Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.”

“Jake, I promise, I’m okay,” You grabbed his hands to help him calm down by rubbing your thumbs across the back of his hands, “I love that you care about me, but one doorframe isn’t going to take me out.”

He sighed and kissed your forehead gently. "Fine, but I'm still gonna worry about you."

#hangman top gun #top gun maverick imagine #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #fluff #top gun maverick #top gun

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pahtoosh · 1 year

Text

apologies and kisses

[image ID: pictures on a light purple background. there are five different baby blankets, a few different bottles of laundry detergent, and an image of chris evans as steve rogers looking smug and another of sebastian stan looking comedically distraught/.end ID]

masterlist

summer celebration masterlist

18+

wc: ~2200 words

warnings: having to do chores. baby is kind of dramatic in this(but justified!)

a/n: the movies moodboards are back. this is the first post of my summer celebration!!! also my first "and kisses" piece!!! "and kisses" just means there are lots of kisses and this is important because i love kisses :)

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader (Dada = Steve, Baba = Bucky, Daddies = both Steve and Bucky)

summary: Steve leaves you and Bucky alone for a day and your Baba manages to make a mistake worthy of an apology and lots of kisses

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

“Okay, I’m leaving for my meeting now!” Steve called out. “Just making this announcement in case one of my loves wants to show me some love before I go!”

Your dada would never leave without a proper goodbye unless it was an emergency, but he likes teasing you. You took the bait every time.

“Dada! Dada wait!” You rushed to the door and “caught” Steve just as he was about to open the door.

“Oh goodness! You just barely made it, pumpkin. I was practically out the door!” He set down his briefcase and gave you a hug and kiss. He looked over your shoulder for any sign of Bucky. “Hm. Only one of my loves came to say goodbye. I guess that’s it then. Bye sweetheart, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“No! No! Baba! Baba, come say bye bye to Dada, you have to!”

Bucky shook his head at your and Steve’s antics. He walked leisurely down the hallway before kissing Steve goodbye.

“You sure took your time,” Dada teased.

“I can’t be spoiling you now. Sometimes ya gotta play a lil’ hard to get.” Bucky winked.

Steve laughed and muttered idiot before returning the kiss. “You two gonna be okay without me?”

“Yes, Steve. I’ve got the schedule and the chore chart and the MyPlate chart that you printed out for me. Twice. Relax, I’ve got this. They’re my baby too, you know.”

Your dada sighed. “I know, and I trust you but it’s been a while since we’ve been separated.”

Bucky rubbed his shoulders. “We’re gonna be fine, it’s only for a few hours-”

“Six hours.”

“And those six hours will be fun and productive thanks to the schedule you lovingly created for us. We’ll be okay, you can just focus on your meeting. Unless that’s why you’re acting like a mother hen right now.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you worrying about us so you don’t have to think about your meeting?”

Steve stood a little straighter and fixed his tie. “Steve Rogers doesn’t run away from his problems. But if he did, that’d be a pretty darn good reason.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay, Captain. Whatever you say, now go kick some ass.”

“Language.” He kissed you one more time. “Bye, sweetheart.” He kissed Bucky. “Be good.”

“Why am I being told to ‘be good’?”

“Because our sweet little angel is always good. You’re the trouble around here.” Steve smiled at you and walked out the door, closing it behind him before your baba could respond.

“Unbelievable. Did you hear that, lovie? Dada’s talking as if he wasn’t the biggest troublemaker his whole life.” He stopped looking at the door to face you. “How ‘bout those chores? Should we get started on them?”

“Don’t wannaaaa,” you whined.

“I know, me neither but we gotta show Dada how responsible I can be. Will you help me with that, baby?”

“Mmm. Okay. But then I don’t have to eat Dada’s veggie sprouts for dinner.”

Your baba threw his head back in laughter. “Trust me, angel. Baba wouldn’t make you eat that mess even if you were the naughtiest baby in the world.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Two hours later, you and Bucky had finished watering the plants, cleaning your playroom, and doing the dishes. The only two chores left on Steve’s list were to dust all the shelves and lamps in the house and do the laundry. Bucky hated dusting, so he was saving that task for last.

He stood a little straighter and used his sergeant voice to grab your attention. “Agent baby, I have a very important task for you.”

You copied his posture. “I’m listenin’, sargan’ baba!”

“I need you to round up all the blankies in the playroom and living room and escort them to the laundry room. And bring any loose socks you see on your way. Those tricky little guys have escaped us for the last time.”

“Yes, sargan’ baba!” You did as he said, gathering the lightweight blankets that collected on the back of the couch and in one of your playroom’s baskets. You carefully walked to the laundry room with your huge pile of blankets nearly blocking your whole face.

“I gots dem, Baba!”

“That’s very impressive, baby! And in record time too,” Bucky praised. He took the blankets from your hands and placed them into the machine. “One, two, three, four, five, si- wait, we’re missing one. Where’s your blankie, lovie?”

You looked up innocently. “Bankie’s not dirty.”

“Now I know that’s not true. I can’t remember the last time we washed blankie.”

“But, but what if bankie don’ like the water?” You pouted and formed a crease between your brows.

“Blankie will be fine, sweetheart. Blankets are meant to be washed! And don’t you want your blankie to be fresh and clean? Think about how you feel after a nice bath. Good, right?”

You looked down and played with the hem of your shirt. “Yah, feels good.”

“Okay, then can you get blankie for me? Or do you want sergeant baba to come with you?”

“No, I do it!” You straightened up and rushed to get your blankie, wanting to show Baba your independence.

You carefully handed blankie to Bucky.

“Thank you, doll. Now blankie’s gonna take a little trip with these other blankies and when they’re done they’re gonna be all clean! While I do this can you look for the feather duster in the closet? I’ll be back out in a minute.”

“Okay, Baba!”

Now alone with the washing machine, Bucky turned the knob to the correct settings and reached for the detergent. There were three different bottles on the shelf. Wait, which brand is used for blankets? How much are you supposed to use? And who needs three different kinds of laundry detergent?

Steve had been taking care of the laundry lately in exchange for Bucky cleaning the kitchen. Steve was also more particular about how fabrics felt after washing, explaining the need for different detergents. Bucky decided to put a little bit of each detergent in the machine and hope for the best. He pressed the start button and left to find you and the feather duster.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Not too long later, every bookshelf and lampshade in the house was dust-free, Bucky put the blankets in the dryer, and you both ate lunch. By the time the dishes were cleaned, the dryer played a happy tune signaling that the blankets were dry.

“Baba! Is blankie time!”

He gasped. “Blankie time? We gotta move fast! Hold on baby, Baba’s gonna get you there!” He lifted you off his lap and carried you to the laundry room, moving up and down while making airplane noises.

“Wooosh! Wooosh! Wow, baby, look at how fast you’re going!”

You squealed and held onto Bucky’s Henley for dear life. “I’m zoomin! I go so high so fast!”

“Aaaand we’ve made it to blankieland!” He put on a voice and pretended to talk into a radio. “Passengers, we have just landed in blankieland. Please stay still while we take out the blankies and give your Babas a kiss for the ride.”

You giggled and kissed Bucky on the cheek before wiggling out of his arms. “Mwah! Down please!”

He set you down and opened the dryer, putting all the blankets into a clean basket so he could take out the dryer lint while you got your blankie. He closed the door and then turned to you.

“So, how’s blankie? All clean and fresh?”

“B-Baba?” Your lip was trembling and your eyes were filling up with tears.

“Oh, baby what’s wrong?” He crouched down to your level.

“My blankie! You ruined blankie!” You dropped blankie and ran to your room crying.

Confused, Bucky picked up your blanket from the floor and a pant of guilt hit him. Blotches of the fabric were discolored. It made your blanket look like someone spilled Steve’s green juice on it. He inspected the other blankets and for some reason, only yours was affected.

Baba felt so bad for ruining something that meant so much to you. He wanted to go comfort you, but sometimes you needed time alone after a conflict.

While giving you some space, Bucky tried to fix his mistake. He thought about all the ways he could get the stains out. He tried a stain-removing pen, but there was no change. He got a small part wet and blotted it with a towel. Again, nothing happened. Surely putting it into the machine again wouldn’t fix things, that's how he got into this mess. And he was hesitant to try vinegar, the idea of your blanket being stained and smelly was too much. With no other solutions left to try, Bucky went to go check on you.

Luckily, you left your door wide open. You were so distracted that you just ran straight toward crying into your pillow and stuffies. Bucky could hear your cries all around the house. He was concerned about how long you’d been crying for. How much time did he spend in that laundry room?

“Baby? Baby, I’m so sorry. Baba’s so sorry he ruined your blankie.” Bucky carefully sat down on your bed and rubbed your back in a soothing gesture. “I’ll buy you a new blankie, yeah? I’ll buy you as many as you want, as big as you want, as colorful as you want.”

He couldn’t be too sure, but he might’ve heard you sob the word “no” three times.

“Angel, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to have a clean blankie. When Dada gets back I’ll have him teach me how to clean blankie the correct way, okay? Maybe he can fix this.” Bucky actually wasn’t sure this was something that could be fixed, but he’d say anything to make you happy. “It was an honest mistake, angel. Can you forgive me?”

“I never forgive you, Baba! Never ever ever ever!” You smashed your face into a pillow and kept sobbing.

Bucky sighed and held his head in his hands. He was hoping for an ounce of Steve’s patience right now. He thought about taking you over to the tower himself. You could see Steve sooner. Maybe some of the other Avengers would still be there and they could help cheer you up. Or maybe he could bribe you with treats, he did just go grocery shopping yesterday...

Luckily, your Dada was just about to park the car. He opened the door expecting to see either you running up to him or you and Bucky sleeping on the couch, exhausted from all the chores. He was not expecting to hear you crying. Steve quickly took off his shoes and found the two of you.

“What’s going on?” It was an odd scene, you lying face down in the middle of the bed, sobbing while Bucky was perched on the edge about to pull his hair out.

You turned over and reached out to Dada, still whimpering. He picked you up and reached for a tissue to clean your face. “What’s got my little sweetheart so worked up, hmm?”

“B-Baba wuined bankie.” You hid your face in Steve’s neck, too tired to do anything else.

Dada looked over to Bucky with a raised brow.

“I was doing the laundry and I messed up blankie.”

“Show me.”

Bucky left to get blankie while Steve sat on your bed with you in his lap. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You whined and nuzzled deeper into Steve’s shoulder.

He sighed and rubbed your back, beginning to talk anyway. “I know how much blankie means to you, baby. I’m sorry Baba ruined it. Did Baba say sorry to you?”

You sniffled. “Ya.”

“And did you forgive him?”

You didn’t answer.

“Babyyy,” he said in a warning tone. Steve did not appreciate unanswered questions.

“No. I say I never forgive him.”

He sucked in a breath. “That’s harsh, now why would you say that?”

“Because blankie!”

“I know, I know. But don’t you think Baba is a little more important than blankie? I bet Baba’s real sorry even without your crying.”

Bucky came into your room with blankie. Steve reached for it and inspected the damage.

“You poured the detergent straight onto it instead of using the slot, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

Steve grimaced. “I made that mistake too. With my own blanket, thankfully. This kind of fabric just soaks it up. And why are the splotches different colors? Which detergent did you use?”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “All of them?” Steve’s eyes widened. “I didn’t use a lot! Just a little of each. Why do we need three different kinds anyway?”

Steve laughed. “It’s okay, Buck. I’ll show you the ropes next time.” He turned to you. “See, baby? It was an accident. Baba was trying so hard to clean blankie that he used three whole different soaps!”

You giggled softly and snuck a peek at your daddies. Steve looked hopeful while Bucky still looked sad and a little embarrassed. You didn’t like seeing Baba so down. You reached out to him.

He looked surprised. “You want me to hold you?” When you nodded, he reached out to pick you up. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Again, I’m so sorry baby. Baba didn’t know.”

You held his face with both hands. “Is okay Baba. Sorry for being a meanie.”

He laughed. “You’re no meanie, angel.” He kissed you and then cuddled you, mouthing thank you to Steve over your shoulder.

The next day, your daddies took you on a trip to buy a new blankie and Steve spent an hour showing Bucky how to do the laundry. He even took notes and laminated them to keep in the laundry room.

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #littlespace fics #marvel agere #kisses #and kisses series #apologies and kisses #apologies-and-kisses #toosh writes

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buckys-little-belle · 5 months

Text

Chapter Two - Backpack, Backpack

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Mentions of Bucky’s ‘Old Life’, talks about slight “Violence” (Bucky’s past), talks of a first aid kit, feeling “scared” about being a little, fluff! Obviously!

Word Count - 2164

Note - I've finished all of Bub and Buck's story now, and I have to say it's been crazy going back and blending chapters/blurbs together to create a more cohesive story. It's been fun, and crazy, and honestly I missed this little place that I loved so much. Cafe BigNSmall is the beginning of so much, not just this account. It was the first little writing thing I put out that really got traction and that led me to where I am now. Going to school in January for creative writing, beginning the process of writing my own book. This little fic that has brough comfort to so many, myself included, is so much bigger than just a fanfiction or just a writing process and I'm so thankful for everyone who has stuck by my side, who has liked, reblogged, and sent asks about it. I love every one of you, I love who you've helped me become, and I've loved every minute of re-writing this series and I hope you love re-reading, or even reading it for the first time. I just have so so so much love in my heart for this and for you <3

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

Bucky sat at his same table for the umpteenth time, but this time he sat with a smile knowing someone was on their way to sit with him. For the first time in a while Bucky wasn’t sitting and watching everyone while feeling jealous, instead he watched as a Caregiver hugged their Little and felt hopeful that he might get to have that one day.

“MR!” Y/n yelled from the entrance like she couldn’t believe he was there, sitting at their table ready for whatever she wished to do. “Hi!” She smiled at him when she got to the table, her usual overalls and t-shirt combo covered by a heavy sweater. He was happy she had covered up more than yesterday, the sky grey instead of blue, and the colder.

“Hi.” He smiled back, Bucky was sure he looked goofy with how big his smile was but he didn’t care. “Chilly?” He asks as he watches them shiver slightly when the finally sit down.

“Yeah.” Y/n tilts her head to the side as she seems to contemplate something. “I think ‘m gonna get a hot chocolate.” She rummages around her bag before finding her wallet and pulling out a five dollar bill. Bucky was quicker though, already on his feet and in the line. “What are you gonna get?” Y/n asks as she joins him in the line.

“Well, I think I’m going to get a hot chocolate too.” He looks down at her, a silly grin on her face as she nods her head. “Their cake pops look good too.” Bucky points to the glass case full of baked goods and premade sandwiches.

“I know!” Y/n practically jumps. “I had one once.” They frown. “But I never have enough moneys for one, maybe next week I’ll get one.” They nod their head, agreeing with their idea.

Bucky already planned on buying Y/n a cake pop, but wanted to make sure she actually did like them. Finding out she’s only had one because she can’t afford them has him vowing to always buy her one whenever she’s here.

The money Bucky got from the government after his treatment went public often sits in his bank account unused, he has what he needs, and most of what he wants, and he hates spending the money on useless things. Yet as he watches Y/n’s eyes flicker to the case full of sweet treats with a frown on their face he’s happy to know he finally has something, someone worth spending money on.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” The barista smiles at Bucky, giving an extra sweet grin and a wave to Y/n.

“Can I get two medium hot chocolates, please?” Bucky places his hand on Y/n’s shoulder to get her attention before asking. “What kind of cake pop do you want Bub?”

“I can’t.” They shrug their shoulders, clearly not aware that Bucky’s already ordering for her.

“I’m buying you one. Which one do you want, Bub?” He adds some clarification, leaning down slightly to be at Y/n’s height, pointing to the cake pops in the case. “I love vanilla, I think I’ll get a vanilla one.” He says, hoping that him getting one will make Y/n feel less nervous.

She begins playing with her hands, twisting her fingers together, something Bucky’s noticed she does when anxious. “Um, I like chocolate.” She whispers, looking back at Bucky with weary eyes. “But I don’ wan’ you to buy it, I -” Bucky doesn’t let her finish her sentence, instead he stands and orders both cake pops before paying.

With both hands on Bub’s shoulders he moves them over to the wait station. “When you’re with me I’ll be the one buying things, okay?” His tone is sweet but also somehow firm, hoping his words make sense and are final, but also hoping he doesn’t seem too overbearing.

“Like a, like when.” Bub stumbled over her words before turning around to face Bucky, his hands dropping from her shoulders only for her to grab his left, glove covered, hand to fidget with it like she does hers. “Like a caregiver?” She asks, finally meeting Bucky’s glance.

“Exactly like that.” Bucky nods. “I’ll act like your caregiver when we’re together, okay?” He regrets using the word ‘act’ the moment he says it, Y/n somberly nodding at his words. He wants to be her caregiver all the time, he doesn’t want to just act as one while around her, but he met her yesterday. Neither of them know each other well enough for that kind of trust, yet Bucky seems to feel like they both are on the same wavelength. Like they’ve waited long enough for someone to be their other, why wait a little longer.

“I’d like tha’.” Y/n nods, turning back around in Bucky’s arms to wait for their cake pop and hot chocolate.

. ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .

For a whole week Bucky and Bub met up everyday, getting hot chocolate and cake pops. Y/n kept giving Bucky colouring pages to take home with her signature at the bottom, his fridge now covered in them after a frantic late night trip to buy magnets. Walking into his house and seeing the fridge coloured in pictures made him love the fact that he bought a huge fridge able to store at least another week's worth of pictures without having to remove anymore of the ones he’s already been given.

“Hi, Mr!” Y/n smiled as she sat down on her booth seat, her backpack placed on the table as she got comfortable. “I made you something.”

“You did?” Bucky unpackaged her cake pop and placed it on a napkin, sliding it over to her along with her hot chocolate. “Careful it’s hot.” Bucky warned as Bub went straight for her drink the moment it was in her line of sight.

“Otay.” She blew a breath onto the cup, though Bucky wasn’t sure how helpful her hot puff of air would be in cooling it down, instead pulling it back to himself and blowing cold air on it for her. “Here.” She placed a piece of paper onto the table.

This picture wasn’t one from a colouring book, but one on regular plain paper, drawn by Y/n and coloured by her to. Two figures stood hand in hand with a box of crayons in the middle. One person was obviously Bucky, the other Y/n. Even if he couldn’t tell Bub had written their names “Mr” and “Bub” below each of their persons. “I love it.” Bucky smiled, sliding the, now less hot, hot chocolate back to Y/n, her taking a sip immediately and humming in content. “I’ll have to put in on my fridge.” He said aloud, though he meant to keep the words to himself, not sure if it was wrong to admit he had grown attached to Y/n enough to want her pictures on his fridge.

“Really?” Her usually playful voice grew serious, her eyes filled with tears. “My drawing?”

“Yeah, Bub.” He smiled, glad she seemed happy over the idea. “I have a few of your drawings on my fridge already.” He admitted. Before he could place it in his bag Y/n was up and out of her seat sliding into Bucky’s booth before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Oh.” Bucky lets out a surprised sigh.

“I like you, you nice.” Y/n said as she pulled away, though didn’t leave the booth.

“You’re nice too, Bub.” Bucky said in disbelief. He knew the two of them were making good steps towards fully being comfortable around one another, Y/n seemed to slip further and further into regression, showing she felt safe around Bucky, and she had even asked him if he was the Winter Soldier and hadn't run when he said yes. But he hadn’t expected her to feel comfortable enough to hug him, yet he wasn’t going to argue or complain.

Y/n eyed his bag for a minute or so before asking a question. “Wha’s in your bag?” She asked, this being the first time she had truly seen it.

“I’ll show you what’s in my bag, if you show me what’s in yours?” He offered, having been wondering what she brought with her to the cafe everyday. “Deal?” He asked, and she perked up, agreeing before sliding out and back onto her seat, something Bucky frowned at.

“Otay!” Bub squealed, opening her green backpack before digging around a little bit. The first thing she pulled out was a small zipper pouch, the fabric printed with frogs and plants. “This has m’ keys, an’ my phone.” She pulled both out, her phone being secured in a bag inside her bag making sense as to why it took her so long to find it when her alarm went off. “An’ it has my tic tacs in it! D’ you wan’ one?” She asked with a smile, holding out tropical tic tacs to Bucky.

“I’m okay, but thank you Bub.” He smiled, proud of her manners and willingness to share her things. He knew he couldn't take credit for her good behaviour, or her manners. She was a sweet girl even if he didn’t remind her here and there of her manners, yet he was still extremely proud of her.

“M’kay.” Bub nodded her head, popping a few tic tacs in her mouth before moving on. “Dis, um, dis is my frog.” Bub’s once very confident attitude dulled slightly as she brought the frog stuffie out, like she was waiting for someone to say something rude.

“He’s very cute.” Bucky reassured her, his hand brushing against the stuffed animal's foot, his fur in perfect condition. “What’s his name?”

Y/n still seemed on alert, but opened up a little more. “I call him Green Bean.” She pats his head.

“That’s a perfect name.” Bucky chuckles, loving how creative his Bub is. “Where did you get his outfit?” He asks, referring to the knitted overalls and t-shirt, identical to Y/n’s everyday outfit.

“I made dem!” Bucky was happy to see her peppy spark come back as she spoke about her stuffy. Giving him the rundown on how she made them, and made clothing for all her other stuffies at home. Then she gave him the rundown on a bunny stuffie she really wanted that was identical to the one she has at home. Though “He’s no’ the same Mr! He’s a different colour!” something Bucky quickly made a mental note of.

Bub only had her wallet and a sweater stuffed at the bottom of her bag, and a small bag of long forgotten goldfish that Bucky immediately threw out left to show. “Your turn.” Y/n reminded Bucky, gesturing to his backpack.

“Well.” He started, opening his bag, pulling out his wallet, keys and phone. “These are the things I have on me at all times.” He said, watching Y/n pick up his keys and fiddle with them, clearly loving his accumulated keychain and key combo from the last 100 years. “Then I have a First Aid Kit.” He pulls out a bulky box, a few things banging around inside.

“In case someone ge’s hurt?” Y/n asks, concern dripping from her expressions.

“Exactly.” Bucky answers, though he doesn’t admit that he mainly carries it out of fear that he’ll hurt someone and need to patch them up, but he hopes that Y/n’s just thinking about scrapes and small cuts and not the carnage he’s left behind.

“Do you have princess bandaids?” She asks with all seriousness.

“I have princess ones, paw patrol, and starwars.” He playful one ups her, the two of them laughing before he continues. “Then I have extra crayons, colouring pages, and a couple water bottles.” He pulls out the extra things, Y/n’s hands immediately going to the colouring pages.

“Can I do this one, please?” She asks, bouncing in her seat, her frog underneath her arm.

“Of course, Bub.” He smiles, the frog page she chose the one he printed off last night in the hopes to give it to her.

After the small show and tell the two of them sat together eating their cake pops and drinking their hot chocolate. Everytime he looked up Bucky realised just how lucky he was, to have found a Little who was as chill as Bub was, and as sweet as she was too. He realised that while he wished he could have met her sooner, he was happy he waited.

“Why don’t we go to the park tomorrow?” He asked, thinking it could be good for them to get out somewhere other than just the cafe.

“Yes!” Y/n practically jumped out of her seat at the idea, the two of them chatting about how excited they were for their adventure tomorrow.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #cafe bignsmall #bignsmall #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes age regression #little fic

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guster-animations · 7 days

Text

The Japanese Version of Deltarune

about a week ago i decided to translate japanese deltarune because i was curious and bored. i found a lot of stuff that i haven’t heard anyone talk about before!

i only translated chapter 2 because i got to the cliffs and remembered that watching/playing chapter 1 over and over again is really boring to me. might do it when/if i finish writing the post.

uhhh a few warnings. i’m not fluent in japanese whatsoever (i’m like n4 level? i think?), and i might not explain this very well to people who don’t know anything about the language. if you’re confused about anything i say, just ask and i’ll explain it in better detail.

i got all of the gameplay from tsuwahasu’s playthroughs of chapter 2 (pacifist and weird route), so all of the screenshots will be from his vods. i picked his vod to watch somewhat randomly so i was very surprised when he not only got all the easter eggs/secrets on a blind playthrough besides the egg room, but also beat spamton neo in one try, god damn

also i’m not the first person to look at the jp version of deltarune. please look at these posts/videos if you want to see stuff that’s already known in better detail:

skellfamily (light/dark world writing, characters’ pronouns and speech patterns) | suzyundertale (ch2 character names, some jokes) suzyundertale again (the gonermaker sequence) | duxarcana and halfbreadchaos (character in the code) | kazarinn (comments from the translators)

reblogs highly appreciated—this took a ton of time!!!

NOW.

LET US BEGIN.

first things first. the gonermaker sequence is one of the most well-known differences in the japanese language among lore fanatics like myself.

in japanese, the first character speaking to you (gaster/Geoff) speaks in kanji (normal) and katakana instead of hiragana (not normal, incredibly strange sounding). the character who hijacks the gonermaker at the end speaks differently, with kanji and hiragana (normal). as suzyundertale mentions in their post, the patterns are extremely similar to a certain fallen child from the end of the undertale genocide route.

another well-known lore Thing in the japanese version is that the hidden “scrapped” lines (AKA the person trapped in the code) use very feminine and childlike speaking mannerisms. this makes it very likely that the person is dess holiday

i’m not going to be going over much personal pronoun stuff, because other people have already covered most of that, though i haven’t seen one thing mentioned by anyone else:

seam uses the pronoun “atashi” (あたし), which is normally a very girly pronoun but in this case it’s meant to make them seem old and wise, since it was a more common pronoun in olden times. their other mannerisms are gender neutral and not feminine, but their name is localized to “nui” (ヌイ)— the word for “seam” in japanese, as well as an actual feminine given name.

does the use of “atashi” combined with having a fem name confirm that they are female? i’m 95% sure the answer is no. do those two things lead native japanese speakers to believe that they are female? i have no idea.

light and dark world

skellfamily mentioned all of this in the post i linked, but i have something small to add

undertale uses mainly hiragana in its text for the japanese version, with some small exceptions for when the fourth wall is broken. this is referencing earthbound, which also did this. this carries over to the light world of deltarune, but kanji is used liberally in the dark world. this is explained by toby fox wanting the light world to make the player think deltarune would be like undertale.

that’s all

small jokes and stuff in the localization

the “librarby” misspelling joke carries over, with it being named “toshonka” (the japanese word for library is “toshokan”).

the AGREE2ALL puzzle was changed to say “YEEES20!!”. this can be read as “yes ni maru” (with the number 2 being read as “ni” in jp and “maru” being the word for a circle), meaning “yes to all” just like in english!

the “apple” keyboard puzzle still says “apple” though ralsei mentions that apple means “ringo” (the japanese word for apple) if you talk to him for a hint.

funnily enough, this joke was kept as is! (“kris, type as i say. f…” “…un!”)

the tasque’s battle lines in english are binary codes, with “me” being 0 and “ow” being 1. this is similar in jp. “nyan” is the equivalent of “meow” in that language, so “ny”=0 and “an”=1. cute!

the “bosom” joke is about the same, if anyone was curious

“breasts / annihilation”

“b…breast?”

“it means tity”

probably my favorite joke in the entire japanese version: in english, before the berdly fight on the roller coaster, he incorrectly refers to lightners as “Light Nerds” . in japanese this is changed to make him use ateji (a combination of kanji that doesn’t mean anything but sounds like an already existing word with their combined readings), calling the lightners 雷斗奈悪 (raitonaa, phonetically similar to the transliteration raitonā which the translation uses). it has the exact same effect (of berdly trying to sound smart but actually being very incorrect), but it’s localized in an outstanding way

“you are filled with the power of not knowing what sugarplums are” is changed to “you are filled with the power of not knowing what christmas pudding is”.

when berdly incorrectly calls susie “susan”, she says “who’s susan?” instead of “my name isn’t susan”. japanese people likely don’t know that “susie” is usually short for “susan”, so it makes sense for her to be even more confused in this version.

the spelling contest in berdly’s flashback is still an english spelling contest, with berdly specifying that it’s english.

instead of saying “susie… a real dragon blazers reference?!” when susie references dragon blazers 2, berdly says, “susie… you’re… a serious dragon blazers player…?!”

on that topic, dragon blazers is instead called dragon blader in japanese. was it called that the whole time? am i misremembering? i legitimately don’t know

the ice-e keysmash puzzle is changed so that you can type it out in japanese as すふぎおろてにぺけなも. it still does not mean anything.

right after susie referenced godzilla with the susiezilla line on the ferris wheel, she references ANOTHER tokusatsu. i think. here (while about to fall on ralsei) she says “ore, sanjou!!!!” (i arrive!), which is a famous catchphrase from kamen rider den-o. i’m like 85% sure it was an intentional reference. den-o is one of my favorite rider shows so this is amazing to me

and lastly. the name of minecrap is changed to マインクシャット (mainkushatto), which seems to be a play on some word plus “minecraft” like in english. i’m not sure what the wordplay is. i’ll get back to you on this

lore-y important stuff

about dess

in japanese, the december typing puzzle still spells out “december” in english.

noelle refers to dess as “onee-chan” (older sis)— it’s common for japanese people to refer to their older siblings like this, and it would be extremely weird if noelle called her “dess”. she could have called her “dess-neechan” or some variation of that, but i highly doubt that the name “dess” is being obscured, especially because “dess” transliterated would sound extremely close, if not alike to “desu” as well as the transliteration of “death”.

the knight

(i took the screenshot and forgot to turn auto captions off, sorry)

this line from a swatchling says something like “it captures the moment where the ‘knight’ creates a ‘fountain’ themself, with their own hands”, but the word for “themself” (みずから/mizukara) is written in hiragana, and “mizukara” could also technically be read as “from water”. was this a deliberate water-darkness parallel? i have no idea.

speaking of water!

the roaring knight is referred to as “咆哮の騎士” (houkou no kishi), the knight of the roaring. the word for the roaring itself, 咆哮, means roar or scream. which eliminates the alternate meaning of roaring (also being possibly defined as the sound of rushing water), but that probably doesn’t solidify “roaring” as solely meaning that. there are a lot of terms in undertale that had multiple meanings, but had to be changed to have only one in the japanese localization. “roaring” might be similar to those instances.

angel

spamton calls noelle an angel just like in english, referring to her as “angel-chan”. if there’s somehow anyone out there that didn’t think that line was important, i am here to prove you wrong!!!

more interesting:

this is the line where noelle says that if this was a dream, she would grow wings and fly away— but in this version, she says “big angel wings” specifically. very interesting!

the two (2) other notable changes in weird route

the infamous “you whispered noelle’s name…” line is slightly different. slightly.

the “kris called for help” lines still say that kris is the one doing it, but this one does not say the subject at all. this is normal for japanese, regardless, it’s still very interesting that it doesn’t say “you”. it is still differentiated from the “kris” lines, but not specifically referring to you (the player).

the other difference is so minor that i’m not even sure what it is or if it’s different from the english version.

translation

EVEN IF YOU [Shout] AT THE [Receiver]

YOUR [Voice] WILL EVENTUALLY WITHER

YOUR [Voice]

THEIR [Voice]

AND YOU WILL realize you’re alone.

i do not know who “THEY” is that spamton’s referring to. the term he uses is gender-neutral and singular. is he talking about the player? idfk probably not

miscellaneous spamton-related stuff

spamton’s speech patterns are entirely different in the japanese translation, but they get the same message across. they include:

switching between formal and informal language

using weird mixtures of hiragana, katakana, english letters and kanji

using katakana re (レ) instead of hiragana shi (し)

cutting off words

random spacing

and occasionally using “die” and “death” as homophones for “dai” and “desu”

it’s so wacky and unnerving and strange, i love it :D

other spamton lore bits:

mike’s name is the same (マイク maiku). i somehow forgot to translate the mike-related dialogue. i will get back to you all if there’s anything of note.

the word for “garbage noise” is 雑音, with about the same meaning. unsurprisingly, the same word (the exact same phrase, in fact) is used for both the addison’s line and the gaster phone call line.

the last thing (i think)

in the roaring cutscene, the japanese word for “chaos” is said (in the “all will be plunged into chaos” line), but then says the transliterated version of the word (カオス) in parentheses. tsuwahasu noted that it’s “keyword-like” in the playthrough i watched. is this important? i have no idea

i’m sure there are things that i missed here, so (again) if you want to know about something, don’t be afraid to ask!! the jp version of deltarune should be looked at a lot more—not just for the lesser-known lore tidbits, but also for the cool stuff that was changed to fit the language. it’s a really cool localization!

#deltarune #utdr #deltarune chapter 2 #japanese #op #spamton #snowgrave #noelle holiday #kamen rider den-o #(<- i promise there’s a reason for tagging this)#translation

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svt-nari · 5 months

Text

the airport incident / part three

warnings: language (the word s*** is written once, panic attacks, stalkers, weird creepy man, not proofread! a/n: i’m so so so so so so sorry for not posting this sooner, i was trying to finish it as soon as possible and i’m really sorry if it’s not as good as you guys expected. also,,, this will have a continuation, not sure if a part four, but i’ll post other chapters about this whole situation.

part one | part two | part three

nari remembers the exact first time she heard that name. seventeen’s first comeback had just happened and they were holding a small fansign. they were still a small group, not much recognition but they were happy and living their dreams. the fourteen young adults/teens were ecstatic, people coming to meet them and get their autograph – it was just like how they saw on tv.

as fans passed by, one of them caught her attention because he was a bit older than the other people there – probably in his mid-thirties. what made him stand out the most too was how he skipped every single one of the boys just to meet nari.

he greeted her and she greeted back, laughing at his enthusiasm to see her. he apologized to all of the boys, claiming that she’s someone he likes a lot. everyone laughed at that moment, it was funny. though, they didn’t know that from there on he wouldn’t just be a harmless fan.

the second time they meet she was shopping with a friend – a private going, her personal life. many fans saw her because they were also shopping, taking pictures and asking for her autograph. but, nari knew he wasn’t there before they arrived. no. he arrived there with them. she thought it was just a coincidence when he entered the mall doors at the same time as her, bumping on her shoulder and apologizing, feigning surprise when he saw who she was.

nari knew it wasn’t just a normal fan behavior when he asked for her autograph and gave her a card with his number written on it, claiming that she could call him whenever she felt like it. something about him gave her chills. but she ignored it for her own sake, nodding along and trying to convince herself that it was normal for fans to give idols their number.

two years passed when the third huge issue happened, nari knew it wasn’t all just a coincidence. he was stepping foot in her family’s apartment building, moving to the floor bellow to the one where her family lived. she knew that he was aware of what he was doing, he made sure to wave at her and tell her that he was moving there. claiming that he didn’t know her family lived there.

but she knew it was all a big, fat lie.

she was scared and she told her company, getting a huge “we can’t do anything without proof!” as a response – as if the fact that he moved to her parents’ building wasn’t proof enough. they told her it was just her mind playing tricks on her since it was a public building, that he could have just rented it. but she knew it was far from the truth.

he had been following her, she knew because she took the time to memorize his plate just in case something ever happened to her. nari’s safety was in game, she didn’t want to end up hurt because of this guy. she knew he followed her to her family’s home because of his car plate. that made her even more terrified of him.

she had to beg her parents to move, took the time to find a new place for them just to get them to be safe and away from that maniac. though, she wasn’t expecting his reaction to that.

a few days after her parents moved to their new place, nari received a letter on her own building - her members’ home, the dorms. it didn’t have any name nor address written, meaning it was delivered by someone and not the post office. the moment she touched it, nari could feel her whole body shiver. as she opened the letter, her heart pounded in her chest with each word she read to herself.

“hi, hwang nari.

it’s me, your hajunie. i miss you so much, don’t you miss me too? well, i hope you do, because i’m planning on seeing you as soon as possible. i know your schedules are full because of all the comeback preparations, it’s hard being talented, right? well, you sure do know since you’re amazing.

i’m sorry i took so long to reach out, but i was organizing how i could do it all without messing up or having someone else mess it all up. i’ve been keeping track of you though. i memorized your schedules and made sure to be there whenever i could - even if i didn’t make myself known. i’m sorry for letting you down.

though, you also did something to make me upset. i mean, how could you move your family away from me? i just want to get closer to you, meet your - our - family. your actions really hurt me, hwang nari. can’t you see that i just want to see you happy and healthy? that i do everything for you? that we are made for each other? well, if you don’t, i’ll remind you :)

tell jaebeom-ssi to be careful. i have never approved nor appreciated your relationship with anyone. have i not made myself clear when i asked you to never see anyone? i wasn’t kidding, nari. you don’t want your career ruined by this little scandal, right?

i hope you can wait for me, just a few more weeks and then i will see you and hold you. wait for me, darling. i’ll show you that we were made for each other.

much love, your hajunie <3”

she could feel her throat closing, her heart pounded and she reread everything over and over. her mind going miles per second. the thoughts never ending, questions unanswered roaming around her mind. how did he know her address when she’s never seen him around the dorms? how did he know she was dating jaebeom when they were never in public together? what did he mean by seeing her and holding her? wait a few weeks? it all made the young woman’s head spin.

nari gripped the stairs railing as hard as she could, her breath shortening as scenarios ran through her head. she could feel herself slowly slipping into a anxiety attack, her mind not being able to process it all as she looked around. she felt watched, as if some type of paranoia - but she knew it wasn’t just her seeing things.

the first rational thought that came to her mind was calling one of the boys, so she quickly took her phone out of her pocket and dialed junhui’s phone. it took him a few seconds to answer but, the moment he did, jun was already out of the door and towards the buildings ground-floor.

the moment he laid eyes on her, he felt his own heart tighten upon seeing his sister’s state. she had her breathing uneven, tears streaming down as she sat with her face on her knees.

“nabi-ah…”, he sighed worriedly. “oh my god, what happened? are you okay?”

jun sat down next to her, bringing the upset girl to a hug. her sobs instantly got louder, her face buried on the taller one’s chest. her hands gripped his shirt, trying to grasp her breath. he didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there and rubbed her back, whispering reassuring words to the upset girl.

“what?”, she said out loud. the whole venue quieted down, the surprised gasps being the only thing to be heard in the moment. “repeat it.”

“noon-,” mingyu started, being abruptly cut off by the girl.

“no. i said. repeat. it.”, she huffed.

“his name is kim hajun… i saw it on twitter if i’m not mistaken it’s his name.” the taller sighed, his head hanging low.

she knew he wasn’t mistaken. she knows him and now that it got to this point, she’s sure she should’ve told them earlier. if she had just told them about it all, it wouldn’t be like this.

“i know him.”, the boys looked at her with furrowed brows, her manager quickly sighing and bowing his head upon her words. “i know i should have told you about this sooner – a lot sooner – it was just,” she sighed. “i didn’t know how to bring this up.”

“we have had some sasaengs before, i know it’s not an excuse, but i didn’t think it would come to this. the most he did was send a letter to m-“

“wait,” jun exasperated. “so that letter you were crying about all those years back…”

“yeah…” nari sighed. “it was from him.”

she came closer to the boys, having cheol bring a chair so she could sit down amongst the boys.

“he also gave me a letter yesterday…”, she fidgeted with her fingers, focusing on something else than the thirteen boys around her. “i didn’t want to talk about it, but i feel like ot got out of hand and-“

“you feel like it got out of hand!?”, s.coups scoffed. “he touched you and he’s been stalking you. it got out of hand a long time ago!” he exasperated.

“i know, i know!”, she stood up. “but do you think i wanted it to get to this point? he threatened me! he threatened to hurt you all, to hurt my parents!”

everyone’s eyes widened upon hearing her words. she have never said anything about this to anyone, she never even showcased any different emotion. she was so lowkey about it that they never even suspected anything.

“what do you mean by it?”, chan looked at her with a frightened expression. he was clearly worried and distressed by this, which made nari feel even worse about the whole situation.

“the letter jun mentioned, all the way back in 2017…”, nari sat back down. “he had moved to my parents’ building because he discovered where they lived, then i asked them to move once again and he didn’t like it one bit.”, she adjusted her glasses, biting down on her lip as she remembered that in her head. “i was with jaebeom at that time and he somehow knew it, so he sent me a letter threatening to expose us and saying t-that he didn’t l-like-“, her breathing got uneven, her chest tightening as the memories came back.

instantly cheol hugged her, seungkwan getting up to bring her some water and dino going to her side to hold her hand. they knew she was having panic attacks more frequently, so they wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be as bad as the last one.

“it’s okay, we can talk about the other letter some other time. your confirmation was enough for us to take matters, okay?”, jeonghan whispered, petting her head reassuringly.

“yeah, don’t worry about it now. they’ll work with what you told us. when you’re ready you can tell us everything, okay?”, shua smiled at her. “your safety and wellbeing is our number one priority.”

the one thing nari was sure of, is that; if they knew that the company already knew about it and did nothing to change it all, shit would hit the fan. for now, she just wanted to avoid it as much as she could to not make things even worse.

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lonelystczennie · 7 months

Text

Just a Collab

Chan x Plus Size Afab!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to just be another collaboration, so why can’t you and Chan seem to get each other out of your mind?

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, partially proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request! I rewrote part of this like five times, but I’m posting it now cause otherwise I’m gonna lose my mind staring at it. I’ll use the other ideas in part two(if we want a part 2) idk, it's late and I'm tired.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Chan likes being prepared for anything, whether that’s rehearsing a song or choreography till he knows it by heart, or just keeping band aids in his bag in case one of the members gets hurt. He knows not everything can be planned, and even the things that can often go awry, so he tries to be ready for any possibility.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was you.

When the company had presented the opportunity to work with you on a collaboration, he’d agreed almost immediately, having been familiar with your work for a while, thinking it would just be a fun project. But almost immediately, that had proved to not be the case, though what it was he wasn’t quite sure.

“Okay, Jeongin, can we do one more take, just for security?” Chan asked through the mic into the soundbooth.

“Sure thing, hyung.” The younger member responded just as there was a light knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting?“ You asked quietly as you entered the studio, Chan's face lighting up noticeably at your presence.

“Nah, you're good, we’re just recording some backing vocals.” He said reassuringly, waving you over.

“Hi Noona.” Jeongin called, waving at you through the window.

“Hey, I.N.” You chuckled, waving back to him before he started to record.

You listened fondly as I.N. sang, slowly settling into the chair next to Chan, waiting for your turn in the booth.

“So, how come I haven’t got to sing with you yet?” You asked as they finished, bumping your shoulder against Chan’s playfully, making him let out a short burst of laughter.

“Because I.N.’s got a much better voice than me and I thought you’d sound good together.” He said, ears gaining a noticeable rosy tint as he spoke. “I, uhm, I’m just here as producer this time.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, you have an amazing voice.” You said sincerely. “I love hearing you sing.”

“Really?” He asked, casting a sidelong glance at you, surprised by your honesty.

You nodded. “Your songs were actually part of what I used to practice Korean.” You confessed.

“Noo, that’s soo embarrassing.” He whined, covering his increasingly red face.

“For you or me?” You chuckled.

“I don’t know.” He said, laughing weakly.

The two of you were interrupted by another quick knock on the door, your manager peeking in to grab your attention.

“Y/n, you have that interview in five minutes.” He reminded you.

“Crap, I almost forgot.” You said, turning to the two of them apologetically. “I’m sorry, I won’t be long.”

“No worries. We’ll be here.” Chan said easily, smiling softly at you, making you beam as you stood.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” You waved as you followed your manager out.

“Bye, Noona.” Jeongin called as he exited the booth, whipping around as soon as you’d closed the door to face Chan. “Why haven’t you said anything to her yet?”

“What are you on about?” Chan said, feigning ignorance. “You saw us, we talk all the time.”

“I meant how you’re both clearly into each other.” The younger said bluntly, not having the patience to beat around the bush on this topic.

“What?!” Chan spluttered. “No, we’re not!”

“Bullshit.” Jeongin snapped, surprising Chan further. He’d spent the past handful of days in the studio with both of you and had put up with enough lingering glances and the blushy comments to know that you were both in deep. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you.” Chan whipped up at that. Jeongin continued. “Anybody with eyes can see that there’s clearly something there between the two of you, why are you pretending there isn’t?”

Chan looked down, letting out a deep sigh. “It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, feeling his heart slowly sink as he spoke.

“Why?”

“Because, what’s the point?” He said exasperatedly. “It’s a collaboration, it’s a temporary situation, she’s… She’s just gonna leave when it’s over.” The last words came out as a mumble as he glanced away again.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘just a collab’.” Jeongin said. “It feels different.”

Chan paused, unable to argue with him, despite wanting to.

It did feel different, you felt different, to him at least. As soon as you’d met, you’d managed to charm him instantly with your brightness and warmth. You were funny and caring, always managing to find something kind to say about everyone around you, not to mention you were stunning. The moment you’d walked in, it had taken him every ounce of concentration not to openly stare at you. You had this subtle confidence in the way you moved and held yourself that he found utterly alluring. Everything about you seemed attractive to him, the glint in your eyes, the softness in your voice, the plush shape of your hips…

You’d even managed to follow him into his dreams, catching him in his rare few hours of sleep, images so vivid, he could almost believe them to be real. The feeling your warmth surrounding him as he buried his face in the softness of your stomach before trailing lower, his hands gripping tightly onto your thighs as they clamped down around him-

He’d bolted up in his bed, heart racing and breathing unsteadily, unable to go back to sleep the rest of the night.

He shook himself, feeling his ears begin to burn again at the memory.

“I just… I don’t know.” He said uncertainly.

“Just think about it, please?” Jeongin said seriously. “You deserve some happiness too,”

Chan nodded slightly, biting his lip. “Yeah, okay.” He said eventually. “But only if the opportunity presents itself, I’m not gonna just drop that kind of thing on her.”

“Of course.” I.N. responded, just as you re-entered the room.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” You asked lightly, reclaiming your seat next to Chan, much to Jeongin’s amusement.

“Nothing.”

The opportunity ended up presenting itself in the form of dinner with you and guys that same night, since I.N. had so ‘graciously’ invited you over to the dorms to hang out and celebrate the finish of recording for the song.

Chan had been a bit nervous about you meeting all the guys at once, knowing how boisterous and overwhelming they could be sometimes, but you’d settled in almost immediately, laughing easily with Han and Felix, talking about art with Hyunjin, and cooing over pictures of Minho’s cats, though you mostly kept close to Chan.

You hadn’t even realized how late it had become as the two of you were talking until you happen to look around and realize the others had gone to bed, leaving you and Chan alone. You knew you should probably leave, but you were reluctant to do so, wanting to soak up as much time with him as possible. The past weeks of working together, both over video calls and emails, and the last few days in person, had definitely had an impact on you as well, and tonight had only solidified those feelings in your mind, making your looming departure all the more painful.

“You okay?” Chan asked gently, noticing your sudden quietness

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m just getting in my head. Nothing new.” You laughed dismissively.

“You wanna talk about it?” He offered, propping his head up on his hand.

“There’s not that much to talk about really, I’m just kinda feeling… I don’t wanna leave yet.” You admitted quietly. “I’ve had a really great time getting to know you guys, spending time with you.” You glanced at him briefly. “It just feels like it’s moving too fast, you know?”

He nodded, understanding all too well. “When do you leave?” He asked hesitantly.

“In a couple days. I asked for a few days off from schedules, thought I might do some sightseeing around the city, plus I know my friends would kick my ass if I come back without gifts.” You joked, making him laugh.

“Well, if you need a tour guide, I’d gladly help you.” He offered, seeing a chance.

“Really?” You asked surprised. “You’re not too busy?”

“Not with anything that I can’t get out of.” He shrugged.

“You don’t have to do that.” You said, ducking your head in an attempt to hide the flush in your cheeks.

“I want to.” He said, leaning in to catch your gaze again. “I like being with you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can while you’re here.” He said earnestly.

“Really?” You asked, half realizing the way you were both leaning closer as you spoke.

“Yeah, I like you a lot.” He admitted, his eyes flickering to your lips before he could help himself.

“Probably more than I should.”

“Chan.” You breathed.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer, smashing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. He let out a muffled sound of relief, hands instantly finding your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his grip as you wound your fingers into his hair, giving a slight tug and earning a low groan from him. He half pulled you onto his lap before you could help him out, swinging a leg across to straddle him as his tongue traced along you bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth, which you readily granted.

Eventually, you had to come up for air, chest heaving against his as you took in his disheveled state with hooded eyes.

“So maybe now you have a reason to come back?” He panted, looking up at you.

“I’m booking my next trip tomorrow.” You replied, letting out a shaky laugh as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

#bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x plus size reader #bang chan drabbles #bang chan scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x plus size reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fluff #lonelystczennie

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