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heavenbarnes · 1 year ago

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Jesus loves her, she wants more

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x AFAB Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB (no pronouns), blasphemy, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (always use protection), finishing inside, swearing, mentions of knives (it's a kitchen), inappropriate workplace relationship (boss/employee), idiots at the end.

Word Count: 2.9k

Working title was "No harm, no foul: How a praise kink nearly ruined a career." No, really, this stemmed from my immediate understanding that I'd never be able to work for this man.

Good job.

Fundamentally, that's what it was. It's a good job, it's a good location, it's good pay (for the most part).

It's a good job.

You're good at it, if you do say so yourself. Prepping food, thin slices, plating up, it comes naturally to you.

You do a good job.

At least that's what he tells you.

"Chef-" Carmy's voice cut through the air, your plate in his hands as he swiped the edge of it with his cloth.

You waited for the drop, the punchline, the clincher- whatever you wanted to call it, you could feel yourself on the knife's edge waiting for it.

"Good job, it's beautiful."

It's a good job that you're good at.

Not something that you'd want to jeopardise, you know that much to be true.

"Good job, chef."

"Nice, chef, nice."

"Making me happy, chef. Keep that up."

It should be enough, good job with a good team and a boss that isn't a total jackass.

"Just like that, chef."

It's not like you're doing it on purpose, just one of those things you cannot control.

"Yes, chef."

You're good at what you do, and Carmy's good at reminding you.

"That's it, chef, that's it."

A little distracting, that's all it is. No harm, no foul.

You tucked your fingertips against the carrot, knuckles against the flat of the knife as you followed it through the vegetable. Tiny matchsticks flitted against the chopping board as you carried out the motions.

Perfecting your julienne cut was your new-week resolution and it'd been riding your ass a bit. You didn't know if your eyes were betraying you after all the repetition but you were sure the sticks were getting bigger.

Placing your knife down, you lent until your nose was centimetres from the board, laying up two pieces of carrots together. So intent on your task of comparison, you didn't even register the office door opening.

"Still here, chef?"

You'd hoped Carmy had missed the way his presence made you jump, but in all honesty, he could've passed a bus under you. His brows rose a little as you did, the faintest hint of a smile under his expression.

"Yes, chef." You stepped away from the carrots you'd had under a microscope. "Just trying to get my prep done for tomorrow."

He didn't say anything, just nodded knowingly as he stepped towards your space. A nervous glance around the kitchen confirmed for you that everyone else had gone home. Come to think of it, you vaguely remember them throwing you a 'goodbye' or two as they left.

It was just you and Carmy.

Your attention was drawn back to him as he brought his elbows forward to lean on the bench in front of you. He surveyed your handiwork, picking one of the carrot sticks out of the pile.

When he held it between his thumb and forefinger, it looked considerably smaller than it had before. Truthfully, it looked-

"Perfectly julienned, chef."

The lump in your throat caught and refused to release. You swallowed harshly, nodding your head with a queasy smile.

"Thank you, chef. Been practicing hard."

He placed the piece of carrot between his lips and nodded. It seemed to be in agreement, that he'd seen you practicing hard and was well aware.

"They look bad to you because you've been doing it too long."

So, not only was he a masterfully talented chef- Carmy had also acquired the ability to mindread.

"Leaning half a millimetre from the board isn't going to help either."

You snorted a laugh out your nose and it was your turn to nod in agreement. You reminded yourself that he'd probably been in this spot before, he wasn't really a mindreader.

At least you hoped he wasn't. He'd probably think you were fucking depraved.

You both looked towards the one last carrot you had to prep before you could allow yourself to rest. Dragging it onto the board, you suddenly became acutely aware of Carmy's gaze on you.

Flickering your eyes up, you found him already looking at your face and not your knife. The silence that past between the both of you was loud, his expression never moved an inch.

"Show me how you do it, chef?"

Jesus Christ.

Swallowing against that lump in your throat, you nodded once before finally breaking eye contact. Focusing back on your hands, you measured your knife up against the carrot for your first stroke.

This was going to be just your luck. Carmy's presence would, undoubtedly, screw over your chances of impressing him. You could already feel your wrist shaking as you tried to follow through with the weight of your knife handle.

Three or four strikes in, you felt a gentle touch against your elbow. Silently, you prided yourself in not letting that make you jump this time. Carmy was reaching across the bench, hand holding your elbow in closer to your side and subsequently improving the cut of your knife.

Moving his hand away, you allowed yourself to feel a strike of disappointment as you kept your elbow where he left it. Disappointment dissipated into heart-palpitations as you caught Carmy moving around to your side of the bench in your peripheral vision.

Stood on your side, you could feel him watching your every move like a hawk. You tried your hardest to focus on the food before you, paying no attention to the way his eyes were no longer on the same thing. The feeling of his gaze on the side of your face was unmistakable.

"Just like that, chef."

If your lip didn't start bleeding from the pressure your teeth had around it, it'd be a miracle. You had a hard enough time being normal when he was walking behind you in a kitchen full of people. But this?

This?

Alone, nearly pressed against your side. Undivided attention perfectly trained on you. Quiet but constant praise for your work. Breath ghosting across you and faintly tinged by the piece of carrot he'd stolen earlier.

You thought you might pass out.

What once was a whole carrot soon became one last match stick, gathering them at the edge of the board with the blade of your knife. Carmy finally looked away from you and back to the board, studying the product of your efforts.

"Very good chef."

"Thank you, chef."

Flickering your eyes to the side, you found him fixed back on you again. You held the tension a moment until you felt something pressing against your side.

Carmy was handing you the plastic container for your carrots.

"Oh- thank you, chef."

He stepped off as you collected them all into the container and laid the labelled tape across the lid. Picking up the cucumbers you'd worked through earlier, you stepped around Carmy to reach the chiller. Propping the door open with your foot, you lent into the place your prep on the shelves.

Stepping back out, you swung the door shut and turned on your heel to find Carmy leaning across the bench in front of you. His arms were crossed against his chest as he just lingered.

"You did good today, chef." He remarked, pulling the cloth off his shoulder and pocketing it in his apron. "Deserve to go home and get some rest."

God damn it.

You didn't want this to end. Sure, your feet were fucking killing you and you were pretty sure your eyes would shut of their own accord any moment - but this shouldn't end.

There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach that said this wouldn't happen again. The kitchen would be full, Carmy wouldn't be so close, so kind, so- him.

Trying to reason with yourself was a bit redundant. Every time you'd had the talk with yourself, the 'chances are, he isn't actually into you' talk, there was still a bigger voice convincing you that there was still a chance he was.

Then that talk developed into, the 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should' talk. That one was arguably more important. That talk was reminding yourself that it was a good job, a good gig, something you shouldn't mess up.

Going after your boss was a sort of surefire way to mess it up. You had it good, you didn't need to push it any further because pushing it could well and good send it over the edge.

You were good, this was good, keep it good.

"You're good, chef. Very good."

Let sleeping dogs lie.

"Real nice, chef."

Pretty fucking distracting.

"There isn't anything else I can help with tonight?" One shot, you'll give yourself one shot.

If he politely declines, then that's your signal to leave this one be. Go home, go to bed, come back tomorrow, do some good work.

Carmy placed his hands on the bench behind him and used the leverage to push himself up to standing. He took one step closer to you, almost bridging the gap.

"You any good at paperwork?"

Yes, chef. Very good.

Carmy's foot kicked his office door shut as you walked backwards into the room, the backs of your thighs hitting the edge of the desk. The move of his lips against yours was torturous, somehow better than those late night fantasies you usually treated yourself to.

One of his arms looped around your back, pulling you into his front as the other swiped out behind you to clear off his desk. The aforementioned paperwork went flying to the floor, floating delicately around your feet as he took up space between your parted thighs.

You'd been fighting with the arousal that'd claimed home in the pit of your stomach since he'd appeared earlier in the night. You knew that you'd have to sate it soon before it killed you.

However.

There was an even bigger part of you that knew exactly what you wanted, what you need. That part of you knew that if Carmy was that generous with praise when you so much as seared a steak, you were sure you'd could get it in other ways.

Allowing his tongue to take over your mouth, you ran your hands down his chest and tugged at his apron. He quickly pulled back to take it from over his head, back to kissing you as he untied it from his back. Your fingers began burrowing under his chef's whites, palm smoothing over his crotch.

Groaning into your mouth, he bucked his hips into your hand as you started breaching his waistband. One hand on his pants, the other cupping his jaw, you turned the both of you so he was leaning against the desk. Slowly, you dropped down to your knees before looking up at him with a smile.

He had that look of bewilderment across his face that you sometimes saw when the kitchen was overwhelming him. This time, he was just taking things in, grappling with the fact he finally had you on your knees before him.

Undoing his pants, you brought them down his thighs just enough to free his cock into your hand. Holding it in one hand, you ran your tongue from the base to the tip in one long stroke. Carmy shuddered above you, one hand gripping the table and the other taking your head.

"This good, chef?"

His eyes screwed shut, a long and shaky breath leaving his chest as he nodded furiously.

"Very good, you're very good." He sucked another breath back in. "But you cannot call me 'chef' right now or I'll never be able to work in the kitchen again."

"Heard, ch- Carmen."

He wasn't sure if his full name was going to help him any better, the way his hips stuttered and pushed the head of his cock through your lips. Your tongue enveloped him, suctioning around him as you bobbed your head into him.

Saliva filled your cheeks, running out the corners of your mouth as you pushed right down on him. Carmy's head tipped back, hand securing tighter around the back of your head to keep you there.

"That's it, just like that - you're doing so good."

Your thighs squeezed together in your spot on the floor. That praise sounded better than any time you'd successfully plated a dish, that was in a league of it's own.

Looking up, it was nearly enough to put you in an early grave. His hair was disheveled as ever, but knowing that it was your doing was different. He opened his eyes in time to see you watching him, a cocky smile drifted across the bliss on his face.

"You know you're good, don't you?"

Pulling off him with a pop, you wiped away some spit as you smiled proudly.

"Mhmm, yes, Carmen."

His smile dropped as you spoke, one of your hands still jerking him off as the other came to cup his balls. He went to speak again but was betrayed by the moan that fell out instead.

The hand on your head moved around to your jaw, cupping it gently to tilt up and look at him. "Up here, please."

You'd never get enough of his orders. He had a way of saying them in the kitchen that made you forget a "please" even existed. That being said, the way he used a "please" was something else all together.

Coming up off your knees, you allowed him to make quick work of your chef's whites, pushing your pants down to your knees. He pressed you up against the desk, tilting your head back to he could re-capture your lips with his.

You felt the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance, collecting the slick as he began to push in. Your mouth dropped open, allowing him to get his tongue back into it, as he had before. His initial stretch had your knees buckling, until his arm tightened around your front to hold you up.

"Next time, I want my mouth on you," He hummed against your lips. "Wanna' hear those manners of yours."

There was so much to unpack in his one sentence.

One, there was going to be a next time. He envisioned this happening more than once.

Two, he noticed your manners, your responsiveness in the kitchen. Your manners to him was his praise to you.

Carmy's hips snapped into motion as he drove himself into you, repeatedly rocking into you. Your chest opened up with a symphony of moans, unable to keep any of it to yourself.

"That's it, lets hear what you have to say, huh?"

"Carmen- feels, fuck, feels-"

"Mmm? Feels good?"

"Feels so fucking good."

He hummed contentedly, satisfied with your babbling in bliss. "Always so responsive for me."

You shot an arm out in front of you to brace on the desk, all of this at once was a touch overwhelming. Coupled with the way Carmy slipped his free hand down to touch you, circling his fingers until your back was arching for him.

The coil in the pit of your stomach was wound dangerously tight, ready to snap at any moment. Carmy was dead set on getting you there, skilled fingers matched with the steady roll of his hips, your vision was beginning to blur with tiny stars pricking the corners.

"Fuck- Carmen, I'm gonna'-"

"Yeah, you are." He cooed, hips picking up just a touch. "Let me here it, baby."

And that did it.

You always knew it'd be his words that did it. Part of him knew it too.

Your whole body wound tight, muscles strained until you felt it come loose inside you. A white-hot flood overtook you, legs shaking as you felt yourself tip right over the edge.

Carmy had a good hold on you, working you through your orgasm as your body was giving out on you. Once the blood rushing in your ears quieted down, you could hear the faint sounds of him talking you through it.

"Very good."

"That's it."

"Just like that."

Letting your arms give out, your front laid against Carmy's desk as he chased towards his own high. You felt one of his palms splayed against your lower back, pulling you back onto him as he drilled his hips into you.

"You want it? Think you've earnt it?"

You threw him a look back over your shoulder, fucked out expression with a blissed smile painted on your face. "Yes, chef."

Carmy's hips stuttered, his eyes locked on yours as he still with his final thrust. Coming hot inside you, his final pumps sending aftershocks through your body as you enjoyed the way it overtook him entirely.

You watched the way he pulled out, tapping his cock against your ass a couple times before helping you pull your pants back up. Both of you fixed your chef's gear in the office, quickly picking up the discarded papers that managed to reach all corners of the room.

Both of you went to your lockers, grabbing your belongings and purposefully ignoring the time on the clock beside you. As you shrugged your jacket on, you couldn't help but peer beside you. Thankfully, Carmy was already looking your way.

You both shared a smile that soon broke into quiet laughter as you picked your bag up. You couldn't even help yourself. "So, did I do good?"

"Yes, chef," Carmy rolled his eyes with a snort. "Good job."

#carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear smut

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months ago

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so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

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leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #hunger games #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow

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mysaintkitten · 1 year ago

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Loser, Baby | Neil lewis x fem!reader

prompt: neil swears he’s grown now and that it’ll take more than a shitty porno to get him hard, so you put him to the test (this based off of a suggestion i was sent !! thank you very much to whoever sent this !! and a quick reminder to feel free to send me prompt and character suggestions hehe)

WARNINGS: subby!neil kinda, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial, i think that’s all ?? (NSFW, no minors)

word count: 2.2k

“the new shipment has come in!” jonathan calls out from the front of the store, lugging in a medium sized cardboard box filled with tapes. he places the box down onto the checkout counter before temporarily leaving to find a box cutter.

you, neil, and lucien gather around the box. you’re a bit confused, you were expecting a shipment sometime next week- what’s this one doing here so early? but after all, you hadn’t been working here for too long so maybe unexpected shipments were normal.

“do you know whats in here?” you ask to lucien and neil, who both claim they have no idea. jonathan returns with the box cutter and slices through the tape that’s sealing the box together, proceeding to then tug the box open.

you peek into the box, and you’re taken aback by what you see- you must be seeing this wrong. VHS tapes filled with graphic covers fill the box, it’s hard to focus on one singular film when all the titles include words like GAPING or FUCK or HORNY. you can’t help but laugh, this must be a gag gift. jonathan and lucien shoot glances at neil before laughing themselves.

you turn to look at neil, but he’s not laughing, he doesn’t even look happy anymore, he looks livid.

“we can’t sell this shit, get rid of it.” he chided, crossing his arms in front of his body.

“what? dude, we can’t just get rid of these perfectly good tapes. we have a mature only section, this could bring in a whole new wav-“ lucien laughs before neil cuts him off, “no. get rid of them. it’s my store and i don’t wanna sell this shit. i don’t care what you do with them, but we aren’t selling them.” neil spat before leaving to head to the storage room.

you had never seen him this agitated, over some simple pornos too. i mean, you guys did have an adult only section and normally neil had no issue with selling those tapes. why were these different?

“guess he still remembers ..” jonathan whispers, snickering quietly with lucien. huh?

“still remembers what?” you ask, wondering if this situation was more layered than you initially thought.

“back in our freshman year of college, we’d rent these tapes and do that freaky-straight-boy circlejerk shit .. whoever came first would lose.” lucien says, beginning to take the tapes out of the box. “neil would lose, almost every time.” jonathan laughs.

god, no wonder he wanted these tapes gone. getting a better look at the covers, they were disgusting. not in an actual disgust way, but just so crude. filthy. and knowing neil was coming to these made an unfamiliar feeling bubble within your stomach. it wasn’t a bad feeling, it was just foreign to you.

jonathan and lucien take a few of the tapes and head to the back office to start figuring out how much they could sell the them for, and you feel your curiosity get the best of you. out of the remaining tapes, you shuffle through until one sticks out to you.

HOT, WET MILF GETS FUCKED HARD

lord, it’s almost refreshing to see a title that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. you know exactly what you’re getting into. you grab the tape and slip it into your purse, a new idea stirring within you.

you finish the rest of your shift and the topic of the tapes has seemingly come to a close, no one else mentioning them for the rest of your shift.

as you and neil drive home together, you bring the topic back to the surface.

“what’s wrong with the tapes?” you ask, wanting to hear neil’s side of the story.

he sighs, “i don’t know, it’s just, maybe it’s cause i’m older and stuff like that doesn’t interest me much anymore. or maybe it’s because i’ve realized how demeaning the porn industry is to women ..” he rambles, saying everything except for a direct answer.

“neil, neil, it’s alright.” you chuckle softy, “if you still enjoy porn, that’s okay, i’m not expecting you to lose all interest in viewing sex simply because we’re in a relationship.” you reply, hoping it’ll direct him towards giving you a more honest answer,

he starts to grip the steering wheel slightly, “well, it’s like, you know, i do still like to .. see sex .. but that stuff doesn’t turn me on anymore. i’m grown now.” he almost gloats. you decide to let him have this for a few minutes, or at least until you guys arrive to your shared apartment.

once inside, you decide to bring your idea to light. you place your purse on the couch, “so neil, baby, i’m gonna be honest with you” you say, “jonathan and lucien told me why you feel this way about these tapes, the jerk off sessions, you coming quick ..” you add, he becomes flushed, beginning to stutter while trying to find the right words,

“and since you told me that you’re grown now and that you aren’t into any of that anymore, i wanna put you to the test.” you continue before pulling the tape out of your purse, watching as neil’s eyes dart between the cover of the tape and your face. all while he’s still speechless, you skip the vhs into your tape player.

you approach neil and gently squeeze his wrist, guiding him over to the couch to sit down beside you.

“now, we’re gonna watch this, and whoever gets turned on first loses. since you’re not into it anymore, this should be easy for you, right?” you instructed, enjoying how blatantly nervous neil was. he was full of shit and you both knew that, but his pride overrides all other aspects.

he gulps, “yeah. i’ll be fine. how will i know you aren’t getting wet, though?” he replies back, a bit snarky, almost as if he thought he had stumped you.

“hm, guess we’ll just have to do it like this then ..” you stated, grabbing his hands and slipping it into your pants and underneath your panties, his cold rough hands cupping your warm mound. before he can even process what you did, you slide your hand into his pants and boxers, cupping him the same. he gasps softly, “no, no, this isn’t fair! you can’t just have me hold your pussy and expect me to-” he stammers

“sh, it’s about to start.” you cooed, turning your gaze to the screen.

it’s retro porn, filmed by shitty cameras and filled with shitty acting. all seems to be going well for the first few moments before any of the actual fucking starts, neil’s hips shift uncomfortably beneath your hand, but he’s still soft.

the people on screen begin to kiss, and moan, and grope. before long, the lead milf is on some sort of counter, legs spread with her bare pussy showing. she’s fingering herself in front of her counterpart, gasping and writhing about how wet she is and how badly she needs to be fucked. and before she even has a cock inside of her, you feel neil begin to pulse beneath your hand. he knows he’s lost. you both know. you carefully look over at him, he’s blushing and his brows are furrowed, his lips twitching ever so slightly. poor thing. the tape wasn’t turning you on, but seeing how affected he was, was turning you on.

you don’t mention it and kept this knowledge to yourself, you continue to cup him, but you gradually apply more pressure along with moving your hand around gently, adding some friction to the mix.

he subconsciously begins to grind into your hand slightly, his own fingers getting a bit curious in your pants, toying around gently with your folds. once the woman on screen starts to get actually fucked, neil’s undeniably hard.

you look over at him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth while smirking, “you lost, baby.” you purr, weakly pumping him.

“n-no! i told you it isn’t fair! i was thinking about you being in these positions and i just got ..” he rambles, “i don’t care, sweetheart. rules are rules.” you cut him off,

“im not a monster, though ..” you murmur before taking your hand out of his pants and sliding his out of yours, you then proceeding to lift your hips off the couch to slip your panties and pants off.

you scoot your back against the armrest and spread your legs for him, “you can have your fun, i can’t just get you worked up and then give you nothing, can i?” you assured, watching as that familiar little grin formed on his face. he slips his pants off and scrambles to get himself between your legs, wasting no time aligning himself with your pussy. spreading your wetness around with his tip.

he nearly whines, “i kept thinking about your pussy .. and how hard it would get me to see you like that .. all spread out and wet ..” he begins to push the head of his cock inside you, “jus’ not fair ..” he mutters,

“worry about that later” you advised, slipping a finger into your mouth before bring that finger down to your clit, rubbing side to side gently against the nub.

that seems to work on him and suddenly he isn’t focused on the fairness of the game anymore. his hands sneak around your thighs, gripping on the soft skin. while slowly thrusting in and out of you, he brings your legs up to his shoulders before picking up his pace. placing small, wet kisses on your inner knees while gripping your hips tightly.

you moan at the gesture, snaking your hands around neil’s torso to tug at his shirt, needing something to grip while he begins to pound into you.

his thrusts are deep and desperate, like he’s that same horny college student all over again, this time with access to actual pussy. knowing how desirous he was for you made you wetter, you could feel him thrusting in and out of you with more ease and you could even hear how slick you had become as he continued to fuck into you, subtle squelching noises begin to mix into the already erotic array of sounds coming from the two of you.

“lemme see your tits, baby ..” he whines, nudging the bottom half of your shirt with his trembling hands, you oblige and lift your shirt up, revealing your bra.

though he wanted to see more, it gets him going none the less. he whimpers as he reaches his hand out to grip your covered tit, kneading the pillowy flesh while slowing down his thrusts slightly

he hooks his finger around the corner of your bra where the cup and strap connects and he pulls it down, just enough to where he can see a good portion of your nipple, a small groan leaving his lips as you feel him twitch inside you. it’s almost cute, seeing a grown man become weak at the sight of a bare nipple. he picks up his pace again and watches the recoil of your barely exposed tit as he pumps into you roughly.

“so beautiful, can’t believe you’re all mine” he moans, you hum in approval, smirking at him through half-lidded eyes, “get to fuck this pretty pussy whenever i like .. you’re a dream.” he purrs, his head going slightly slack against your calf that’s still propped up on top of his shoulder.

“all yours ..” you moan in your most sultry tone, trying to push him closer to the edge, “you gonna come in my pussy, baby?”

he whimpers again, nodding eagerly, gripping your thighs tightly as he picks up his pace.

“gonna come, so close, god, fuck!” he groans, nows the time, you think to yourself.

“stop.” you say firmly, placing a hand flat against his chest, his thrusts slow down before coming to a complete halt.

“wha.. what’s wrong?” he questions, breathlessly, still incredibly close to coming directly inside you.

“pull out.” you reply in the same tone, he whines, but complies.

“what is it? did i do something wrong?” he probes, a worried expression lingering on his face

“no, you didn’t do anything wrong, love. but you lost. and you can’t come until i say so.” you reply, reaching to the floor to grab your discarded pants and panties, his worried expression stays on his face but it shifts to a different type of worried.

“what? no! you can’t! i’m so close ..” he mewls, “you can’t just leave me this hard! i’ll die!”

you chuckle at his exaggerations, “you’ll be fine, it’s not my fault it takes nothing more than a strong gust of wind to get you worked up.” you say softly, bringing your body upright to cup his face before pecking him on the nose.

“i’m going to take a shower ..” you add before standing to your feet, his eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping, it’s comical to you, “you’re gonna be all soapy and wet in the other room and i’m supposed to just sit here, painfully hard, and deal with it?” he whines. you think he may be even cry, him being so pathetic is almost sweet.

“mhm!” you reply, ruffling his hair before turning your body around, leaving him on the couch to go shower.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #this was fun to write #:)

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babbymochiiii · 1 year ago

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💋Tongue Piercing: NAKAMOTO YUTA

↪︎Pairing: idol!Yuta x female!reader

↪︎Genre: comedy

↪︎Warning: suggestive context about the piercing

↪︎ Synopsis: in which you’re on FaceTime with him, where you mention the speculations NCTzens have of him having a tongue piercing, and he confessed to you he does.

↪︎Word count: 560 words

divider credit @plutism 🖤

You were in your room laying on your bed while on FaceTime with Yuta once he finally got home from practice. Moments like these is where the two of you treasured the most considering how there isn’t always time and place for the two of you to be together in person.

“You know your fans are quite something.” You giggled as you remembered going onto Twitter today and seeing all of them freak out over the thought of Yuta having a tongue piercing.

“What has them freaking out this time?” Yuta asked with a smile on his face, as he knew you liked rambling about moments NCTzens have.

“The entire timeline was freaking out, because they believe you have a tongue piercing. One even had a close up of your mouth in the JCC video you were in.” You said as you shakes your head with a smile on your face. “Even if you did have one, you would’ve told me.”

“I do have one.” Yuta said bluntly.

“And if you did have one- wait. YOU HAVE WHAT?” You yelled out as you looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Yup, I got one see.” Yuta said before sticking out his tongue to the camera.

Seeing the shiny piercing placed perfectly in the middle of his tongue made your head feel very full with thoughts that you truly didn’t think could go the way they did.

“Y-Yuta when the hell did you get it done? And how the fuck did I not realize?” You said as you looked at him with a forming blush on your face.

Yuta smirks seeing you blush. “Is my princess thinking about the new ways I can pleasure her with my tongue piercing?” He coos at you. His smiling growing wider as he saw how truly flustered you got, as he knew he just confirmed the thoughts in your head.

“No.” You groaned out as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to get this man out of your head, cause he always knew what you were thinking.

“Don’t lie to yourself princess. You know it’s true.” Yuta laughed as he started to admire you.

“I’m not lying…ugh! Yuta you’re making me flustered!” You moaned out as you dropped your phone onto your bed, as you pressed the heal of your palms into your eyes while trying to hold in your laugh so it doesn’t provoke Yuta into laughing.

A chuckle was heard from the phone. “Baby, I’m just taunting you. Besides you’ll see me soon.” He said gently but the darken look in his eyes scream differently.

“Dude ima block you,” you laughed as you knew Yuta was only just starting.

“Block me? You know better than that, princess.” Yuta laughed.

“I’m not! I’m just kidding!” You said as you took hold of your phone again.

“Mhmm.” Yuta hummed, as he gave you an amused smirk.

“So how was—“

“You want to feel my piercing on your clit don’t you?” Yuta’s blurt interrupted the rest of your question, just causing you to blank and stare down at your phone.

“NAKAMOTO!”

The sound of Yuta’s laughter hits your ears, just as an intense heat took over your face.

“I can’t stand you man.” You mumbled out as you covered your face trying to calm down the feeling of the heat.

“I love you more, princess.”

note: I have had this little drabble in my drafts for like…2 years? 💀 it’s been sitting and waiting for it’s time to shine 😚🤌🏼 but I hope you guys enjoyed the little work here! Thank you for reading! 🥰⭐️

— mochi 🤍

#nct #yuta nakamoto x reader #nct yuta #kpop #kpop imagines #nct smut #smut #romance #kpopidol #nakamoto yuta #yuta smut #reader insert #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #tongue piercing #body piercing #facetime #yuta be suggestive

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beenbaanbuun · 9 months ago

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PLS ELABORATE ON TOO SWEET WITH COUNTRY BOY MINGI 🙏

OKAY SO!!!

country boy mingi is definitely the type to think that his whole life is all doom and gloom. he’s stuck in this tiny town working as a farm hand for some rich guy that hardly pays him enough the amount of work he does on that farm. he has a truck that barely runs and every night he drives it home to his shitty apartment that just so happens to be above the local bar. he spends his hard earned money on a whiskey, neat, before dragging himself upstairs to bed, only for the same exact day to repeat tomorrow.

it’s no wonder the man is a cynic…

but then one day, maybe a month or so into working at the farm, he meets you; the groundskeepers daughter. clad in a beautiful white summer dress and a pair of beat up boots, you might actually be the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. it makes him feel small at the side of you, like he is somehow less than you. he’s never doubted his social standing before, yet something about the way your beauty radiates from you has him feeling insecure.

but then, in a twist of fate, he sees you walk right up to the fence that borders the horse paddock. you climb it, jumping over the top and landing on both feet when you hit the ground on the other side. it looks like you’d had practice doing it, and maybe you have. after all, mingi’s only been working there for a month or so.

“hello,” you call from across the field as you start to walk towards him. there’s a wide grin on your face that has mingi’s heart stuttering in his chest. he can’t quite believe this angel is talking to him, a lowly farmhand covered head to toe in dust, straw and horse muck. he gulps down the anxious lump in his throat as you grow closer to him, trying his hardest to don his usual cocky persona before he shows himself up in front of you. the last thing he wants is for his voice to crack or something…

“hey there, doll,” he calls out, mentally patting himself on the back for keeping his composure. it’s a lot harder than he makes it seem, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

“a field?” you tilt your head in confusion. mingi scolds himself for saying something so utterly stupid, “nothing much; just thought i’d finally come and introduce myself to you!”

you stick a hand out, your perfectly manicured nails glistening under the hot southern sun. mingi’s eyes flicker down to his own hands, scuffed and calluses from hours of hard labour. he knows his nails are black with dirt and his fingertips are blistered from shovelling horse manure for hours on end. it’s nothing he’s ever been embarrassed about before but you’re just so ethereal that for some reason he feels bad about even being in your presence.

still, he was raised a gentleman. he takes your hand in his, shaking it once before dropping it again. not quite quick enough for him not to realise just how soft your skin in, or how warm your tiny little hand feels in his own. he shoos away the daydreams that flutter around his mind like butterflies. it’s not like they’ll ever come true, so why waste the time of day thinking about them.

“you’re mingi, right?” you speak up again, your voice sounding like music to his ears. it’s like the sound of a stream on a hot summers day, or the birds that sing when the sun first rises. it reminds him of childhood summers, so carefree and tender. they seemed to last forever; mingi wishes he could hear your voice forever. “my daddy was telling me about you, but he never mentioned how handsome you are.”

mingi’s mind short circuits at that. you say it so innocently but he’s sure you’re flirting with him. you! flirting with him! this is better than christmas. better than all those childhood summers stacked together. his heart soars and his stomach erupts in a flurry of butterflies.

heavens, you’re sweet…

like a little cube of sugar in his coffee that he normally takes black. a little honey in his neat whiskey. he never really liked sweet things, preferring things to match the bitterness of his life. not you, though…

you he doesn’t quite mind being so sweet…

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fic #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #mingi

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colduncrustable · 3 months ago

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the martin antis working so hard to make waves is so funny. like, you are very much allowed to like/dislike any character you please! but making it your whole personality or acting like you’re cooler for it is a little bit silly. you are not morally or intellectually superior for hating on a fiction character.

not to mention all of the characters in tma are very nuanced and complicated, just like real people (!), and erasing all of that to serve a certain narrative is a complete disservice to the entire body of work. jon and martin’s relationship was never meant to be easy, they first and foremost worked closely together as boss/employee, and in a workplace that was actively putting them in dangerous and horrible situations. the whole point is that they’re both super fucked up but they have each other anyway. they both have flaws, they both have gone through a great deal both with and without each other, but they found love anyway. the idea that the dynamic change in s5 is due to martin just being this villain is so wild? like he’s not a doormat anymore but he also loves jon so fiercely and stands by him over and over again?

jon hated him, jon ignored him, was verbally horrible to him again and again, literally sent him on a dangerous investigation and said if anyone had to die might as well be him, jon accused him of murder, screamed at him, jon was on the run, jon died. martin was his number one defender through everything, even when honestly? he didn’t do a lot to prove he deserved it. but martin was strong in his loyalty and did his best to be a supporter anyway. he picked up extra work, he thought of him kindly when no one else did, he mourned him, and he put himself directly in the line of fire for jon. for everyone, yes, but especially for jon, he says that. because after everything, protecting jon is still his number one priority.

it’s so important to his character that he isn’t s1 martin anymore—that he learns to be a real person who has thoughts and feelings and a backbone. jon wanted that, and does it not say something that they don’t work out until martin learns to have a little bite? there’s a difference between being a real complicated traumatized human person, and just straight up being evil, or an asshole. jon had to learn how to be a lot of softer things but martin had to learn how to square his shoulders and stick out his chin. they had different arcs, and that doesn’t make either of them inherently evil or bad. it makes them real and not perfect and very multilayered, yeah.

martin didn’t handle every choice or action perfectly, he made a lot of mistakes, and he never claims to be the best person ever. but jon also fucked up, a lot. it isn’t a competition or a comparison, that’s really not how that works. but they work because of their flaws. that’s a big part of them fitting together. martin represented the humanity they were saving, with all his good and bad. jon was well beyond that, and while that doesn’t inherently compromise his character, it does mean he’s viewed in a much different light.

(meaning i think jon’s sins are seen very very different to martin’s.) (to be clear i think both deserve to be looked at critically, but hating either of them devoutly seems sort of silly.)

i’m not sure how you can listen to tma and all the ways it dissects and reflects on humanity and turn around and run blogs or make posts in the fandom about how you hate one of the main characters for being all of that.

jon never would’ve made it through without martin, even if martin wasn’t the key to everything, he was the reason to push through and not give up. martin is why jon didn’t go full monster mode, why he held onto who he was and his humanity, even with the whole ‘kill bill’ thing. martin gave him a reason to keep going, to try, to care so deeply. obviously there were other factors but jon says it himself, martin you are my reason.

if you can’t handle the fact that martin isn’t a grade a soft boy by the end of the show that’s a lot more about you than it is about him. he grew and maybe not always for the better but he could be a real person for jon instead of some kind of mirror or blank slate to be reflected on. i genuinely don’t understand how he can be misunderstood so deeply.

they’re both fucked up ! and if they are alive Somewhere Else you bet your ass they’re having long talks and going to therapy and fighting and making up and pacing the floors and figuring it all out together. it isn’t clean or easy or necessarily enjoyable all the time, but humanity isn’t either, love isn’t either. they went through unimaginable trauma, and expecting either of them to be holding it together any better than they already are is wild. context, it’s important. but let’s not turn multi-dimensional characters into flat one word answers.

it’s very human to like and dislike, love and hate based off of bias and experiences and perspective. but also opinion does not make fact. everything is relative, everything is subjective, everything everything everything. it’s an open discussion yada yada idk i’m just screaming into the wall about all the nonsense.

and beyond all of that, discourse is so useless. criticism and constructive conversations are really really important but discourse is pointless! oh you ship these people? well that inherently threatens my ship! oh you like this character that i hate? well that makes me feel invalid for hating them. like what you like, hate what you hate, have your feelings. but if you post shit on the internet you will get people who disagree, sorry, that’s how it is. partaking in little arguments over who is right or wrong when it doesn’t actually have to do with anything harmful or unhealthy makes no sense though. posting on the internet about all the hate you have in your heart when the world is already so full of it doesn’t actually do anything but add more bad to an already very large pile of bad.

things can be discussions not arguments sometimes, i promise. it’s not always tooth and nail, and let’s not forget, most of it is over things that never need to be fought over.

#i’m drunk forgive me for my rambles #drunk rambles #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #i’m saying what’s been said a million times #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #rant post #discourse is gonna kill us all #why are you guys arguing about ships #and people #and like silly things that don’t need to be argued about #and why are you posting about all of that hate #is that what we need more of?#i’m just adding fuel to the fire here #but i’m bashing my head against the floor anyway

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ashen-char · 8 months ago

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dating river - hcs (family edition)

ship: river (all souls) x gender neutral reader

warnings: mentions of death/graveyards/spirits as is canon-typical

notes: jade's such a big part of her life that this got a bit longer than i expected! if you want a more general dating river hcs, find it here. requested here

✦ river is BUSY. on top of the classes she takes at valley, dealing on the side, and the shit the cops makes her deal with, she dedicates all the time she has to her daughter

✧ as such, she definitely did not expect to get into a relationship. let alone to care about someone as much as she does you

✦ she was wary at first. river hasn't been in many, if any relationships. she didn't know how you'd respond to jade, if you'd understand that you can't be her first priority, or if jade would take to you

✧ so for the first few months you two were seeing each other, river swatted off your requests to take her home with a "maybe next time"

✦ in fact, the first time you met jade was an accident

✧ you were chilling in the park with some of your friends while river was taking her daughter to the playground. when jade noticed her mama suddenly brightening at the sight of you across the park, she asked why she was all smiley

✧ basically, river had to introduce her to you

✧ of course, you understood why explaining your relationship status to a 5 year old who's grown up with a single mom her whole life was complicated. so you wore the badge of "this is mama's special friend" with honour

✦ river couldn't hide how happy she was with you, though

✧ jade could always tell if her mama was coming home from hanging out with you. she'd be less stressed, her smiles brighter and laughter more frequent

✧ river couldn't help but to repeat your jokes (if they were appropriate) or gush about what you two did

✧ and since you made her happy, it was a done deal for jade. with all the love in the world for her mama, she hatched a plan to get you two together!

✧ so jade made up all sorts of excuses to have you stick around

✧ movie nights, tea parties, games - jade insisted things were more fun with you, and river couldn't keep saying no to her

✧ any small problem, you were called in to solve it. a jar needed to be opened? they couldn't reach something off the shelf? jade knew who to call

✧ "mama! we don't have enough pillows to make a fort... maybe we could ask your friend to bring some!"

✦ and river secretly loved how much her little girl took to you

✧ every time you showed up for them, it reminded river that she's not going it alone anymore

✧ river would catch you helping with jade's homework like you were a born teacher. rather than just giving the 5 year old the answers like it'd be easiest to do, you'd explain how to get the answers

✧ both of them appreciate how patient and understanding you are

✦ whenever you three were out together, you'd occasionally get compliments on your "sweet little family"

✧ jade would just wrap her arms around both of you and go "thank you!", not letting either of you rebut

✧ not that you wanted to, of course. you loved the idea of you three as a family

✦ you hoped that one day river would see that you'd love jade like she was your own and just make the damn thing official already

✦ needless to say, when jade accidentally caught a glimpse of you two kissing one night, she was ecstatic! she thought her plan worked perfectly

✧ when you two explained that you were actually dating all along, jade got a little huffy that you two were keeping a secret from her

✧ she made you promise to never do that again. but she did give you extra special permission to date her mama, with the addendum that you had to keep making her happy ok?

✧ and she made river promise to treat you good too

✦ river was very embarrassed when jade waxed poetic about how happy she is when she comes home after seeing you

✦ jade basically deemed you worthy of being her second parent before you two even told her

✦ the closest thing river has had to a co-parent was her mom, jade's nana. she had to learn how to let you support her, how to be a team when it came to raising jade together

✧ of course, it helped that you never tried to take over. river was in charge and ultimately, she knew best about what jade needed

✧ river appreciates the amount of respect you have for her decisions in raising jade

✦ it means the world that you're there

✧ you're there to attend jade's recitals, you're there when she scrapes her knee, and you're there when river is coming home late but jade still wants to hear a story

✧ you'll sit by river's side and cheer jade on. you'll carry her over to river so she can patch her up, making them laugh so it hurts less. you'll tell river all about jade's day so she never feels like she missed out because she was too busy

✦ with you around, they teach you their traditions and you teach them yours

✧ with jade being so young, it's nice to make lasting memories for her to cherish

✧ formative stuff, like camping trips when you teach her how to pitch a tent or you help her catch her first fish

✦ you help the kid learn how to ride a bike, and how to swim

✧ when you realise that river doesn't know how to do either (her family could never afford a bike or a pool), you teach her too

✧ (buying her a bike was a very necessary splurge when she smiled so wide because of it)

✧ river trusts you. she trusts you when you hold her hand and help her get used to the feeling of floating, of losing control. she trusts you when you promise to keep your hands on the bike

✧ when you see her balancing on her own, you let go and let her bike around for a bit. realising she had been duped, river cussed at you playfully for breaking your promise

✧ learning how to do these simple skills and being able to do them with you and her daughter, river's confidence shot up because of you

✦ they like to go to the graveyard on all souls day, wearing matching outfits and doing their hair and makeup the same. you let jade do your face paint and river laughs and kisses you because it looks all wonky

✧ when they take you to see nana's grave, you take the time to thank her for how great of a person river is

✧ you tell her how she'd be proud of how much jade's growing

✧ you introduce yourself and promise to take care of her daughter and granddaughter

✦ for your anniversary, river gets a tattoo of your name on her neck, just below 'JADE' <3

#mikey madison #all souls #river all souls #mikey madison x reader #river x reader #requested

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bakerstreethound · 5 months ago

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Once a Dream, Twice the Nightmare

Relationship: Hobrintheus x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, praising, fingering (afab receiving), forceful OC male character who is a creep, mentions of workplace harassment, implied stalking, gentle Morpheus, loving Hob, mentions of killing, blood, knives, and dismemberment, lowkey knife play discovery kink appears, everyone is enraptured by Corinthian, makeout sessions, and consensual polyamory

Summary: Going on a date proves to be difficult, especially when it is from a guy at your office who cannot take a hint that you do not like him nor that you don't want to go out with him. Morpheus convinces you not to go and instead enjoy time with him and the two other people who care about you more than anything in the world. Needless to say, you lose yourself to them and indulge in their ministrations.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: Hello lovelies, this came about from a request by my lovely wife @roguelov for my 5-year Tumblr anniversary. My six-year anniversary has passed, but better late than never. I had a lot of fun writing this request and Hob has become one of my favorites. I cannot resist writing for Hob, Corinthian, and Morpheus with a reader. I hope you enjoy it (I am so proud of this one!!). Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Dating was not your strong suit, so why you bothered adding mascara and eyeliner to your face for a final flare was beyond you. One last check you admired your flowy dress that sat just above your knees and was perfectly stretchy and comfortable.

You offered a half smile to the reflection in the mirror, sticking your hand in the pockets and giving a twirl. Pockets in dresses are rare, so when you first put the dress on you had doubts, not wanting to get too hopeful. They are different from your usual style, but this dress was made for you.

Carefully you smooth out the loose strands of your hair that fell from their bobby pin prison, dabbed on one more drop of lipstick on your lips, giving yourself a satisfactory nod. It wasn’t every day you put yourself together in such a manner, preferring comfortable clothes devoid of flowy dresses and skirts. There is a first time for everything, you think.

Your phone pinged, breaking you from your thoughts. You know it is likely from Jordan, your co-worker who insisted on taking you to a sushi place. You tried to drop countless hints you had no desire to go or eat sushi and every time it was brought up in conversation it was redirected. You wanted to tear out your hair in frustration, so why wouldn’t he take the hint?

“Darling, you shouldn’t go on that date. He does not respect you and is a fool. No one, no mortal deserves the likes of you,” a silky smooth voice drifts from the shadows. Goosebumps form along your arms at his appearance, as usual.

Out of the three of your roommates, Morpheus was the most elusive, dropping by at inconvenient times. Being friends with Hob, forever the immortal mortal, and Corinthian, one of Morpheus’s art projects was the least of your worries.

You definitely could not turn down the rent either, as you desperately needed a place to live while pilfering through job applications. So far, a year or two had passed and you got a steady one, where you had the misfortune to meet Jordan, the nuisance and bane of your existence.

You felt so foolish now accepting his offer, not knowing he was asking you on a date until it was too late and his texts became suggestive and eerie. Men and their twisted words. You wished you could be rid of him and that stupid sushi place.

You turn towards Morpheus, acknowledging his presence as you fiddle with the necklace you added to your ensemble. “Well, I wish I could but Jordan is a pain in the ass and he won’t relent unless I join. If I appear and go on this date, then he’ll leave me alone for good.”

“Oh, darling, that is not the case. He’s using you and harassing you both at work and during your off hours. No person acts in such a manner. Best leave us to handle it.”

“Handle what?” a warm voice you’d come to cherish many a night inquired. Hob leaned against your doorframe, a small smile gracing his features. You have lost count of the times you lost yourself in those warm brown eyes.

Turning from your thoughts you sighed as your phone pined five more times on your nightstand. “It’s nothing, an annoying co-worker who asked me on a date that I did not know was a date, and he never specified it was.

He twisted his words and I eventually caved since he was so insistent and I thought accepting it would make me get rid of him. Hell, I am such a fool and Jordan is a creep.” You take a breath, noting the concerned raised brow Hob gave to Morpheus who stood in the shadows, ever stoic. “You were right, Morpheus. I can’t go. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You could block him,” Hob offered, coming to you to wrap you in a hug. His embrace strengthened your resolve and you looked to Morpheus.

You sighed, leaning into Hob’s warmth. “I will do that, but I work with him at least three times a week and once he drops by my cubicle he will not take the hint no matter how insistent I get.”

“We could send Corinthian after him. That is an idea.”

Morpheus came closer, standing before you at his full height, his hair a rumpled mess that you did not notice when he was cloaked in shadows. “I would call for him if you wish.” He stroked your cheek gently and you leaned into him, the coldness of his touch a wonderful contrast to Hob’s warm embrace from behind.

“I don’t want to go,” you whispered, hating how you melted, hating how much your heart raced at the thought, hating how you’d face Jordan at work in three days.

“Don’t go on the date,” Morpheus commanded.

Your phone pinged again and your heart seized, but Hob held you tighter determined to keep you steady. “Morpheus, why?” Your eyes widened at the set of his jaw, pure determination in his eyes, not willing to let you run from him.

“Say it.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” Morpheus’s voice was soft, yet dangerously low, a silken melody in the space between and you want to lose yourself to his coldness, to Hob’s warmth. How did you not realize sooner they were who you wanted all along? No one else could or would ever compare.

“Because I want you. I want Hob. I want so much more in this life than to be harassed and taken advantage of by that creep Jordan. I have never felt so safe, so cared for than with you, even Corinthian.” Your heart ached at your confession, realizing the truth in your words, the pure honesty, the desire behind it all.

Before you could utter another word, Morpheus’ lips meet yours in a soft, determined kiss and you lose yourself to the cold, the fire inside your heart burning free. Hob grunted from behind you, soft warm lips pressed upon your neck, making you melt all the more.

You wouldn’t question how you got here, but you are thankful for them both, saving you from what could have been a precarious situation. You lose yourself then, with Hob biting your neck, passion, and desire brimming between the three of you, nothing could have been more perfect in that moment.

They continue in their conquest, determined to turn your mind from the disastrous date that could have been and you’re grateful for them, the distraction, the new feelings between you all surfacing. You would not have imagined this happening to you with one, let alone two people you’ve come to admire throughout the years you spent together.

A soft moan passed from your lips as Morpheus slid his hands over your sides, a shower of goosebumps cascading down your arms in the wake of his touch. Hob groaned, pulling you tighter against him, feeling the weight of his desire along your lower back, sending heat to your core in anticipation.

Never had you expected to feel desire or passion for anyone in this lifetime or the next, and you wanted none but them.

You sighed again as Morpheus’s hands wandered to your breasts, cupping them gently through the fabric of your dress. Hob followed in kind, sweeping his hands under your dress to tease the fabric of your undergarment with his index finger and tracing the apex of your thighs, a delicious agony. To no avail you squirmed against them both, nowhere to go but remain in this moment in time with them.

The buzzing of your phone faded into the background, drowned out by your panting and moans the men coaxed from your lips. Soon enough they had you a writhing mess for them on the bed, sandwiched between them in the throes of bliss and you kissed them in turn, determined to savor every moment, not wanting to let go.

“So pretty for us to undress, yeah?” Hob cooed, working you with his fingers, coaxing your release from you as Morpheus toyed with your breasts, nipping and suckling, adding to your pleasure.

“My darling, you’re a sight to behold, so lovely for us,” Morpheus’s voice drank you in, enveloping you in your soul and mind.

You could do nothing but whimper at the feeling, everything too much yet not enough, body ignited, yet somehow wanting, no, craving more of them and their touches. “Please, Morpheus, yes. Hell, H-hob right there,” you groan, coaxing your lovers on. “I swear I’m going to fuck the next person that walks through that door.”

“You have us, my love,” Hob whispered huskily, pressing his length against you, evidence of his want and desire.

Your hand grasped onto him with ease, relishing his head tossing back in bliss, the broken moan falling from his lips. Morpheus looked up in awe, his black eyes narrowing, admiring the display before kissing you on the lips gently.

“I know, Hob but-” you shuddered, as a flash of white passed by your door.

A deep chuckle resounded in your room followed by a southern drawl. “Well well, what am I missing out on? What did I hear my dear say, Morpheus? Surely they did not mean that. You and Hob are pleasuring them into oblivion already from the looks of it.” Corinthian smirked, his pristine white suit covered in blood.

He wiped the corner of his mouth, smirking as he pushed his signature sunglasses up on his nose before stalking around the bed to get a better view. You let out a soft moan at the sight.

“Awe darlin’ look at you so pretty for them. So pretty for us.” Corinthian smirked, tilting your chin up with the tip of his knife. “Such pretty eyes. And Jordan will never look at you again or that sushi place.”

You shuddered at his words, another wave of desire coursing through you. This other being, the creation of Morpheus had killed for you, showering you with such an act of devotion you’re not sure you could ever repay.

“My sweet, you’re so wet for us,” Hob murmured, dragging a finger along your thighs up to your slit, teasing you just so.

“Looks like they have a penchant for my knives, is that it?” Corinthian’s smirk widened as he added a hint of pressure to the blade he pressed along your neck.

You choked back another groan, overstimulated by the touches of your lovers, paired with the sound of Corinthian’s seductive voice, cold metal at your throat.

The bed creaked as Hob and Morpheus shifted slightly pulling you to the middle of the bed, keeping you between them, Hob on the left, Morpheus to your right. All of your eyes were focused on the Corinthian after he gently kissed you on the neck where he teased you with his knife.

You continued to admire the new addition to your party.

The full-length mirror next adjacent to the dresser offered more of a view as Corinthian reverently took off his coat, placing it on your vanity chair, taking off his knife shoulder holsters, and setting the red stained knives on a pristine white towel. You would complain about the towel later, but you and your lovers are too enraptured by the creation of Morpheus to care.

You cannot deny Morpheus’s tastes, or Corinthian’s eye for fashion, the white button-down shirt accentuating his skin, carved of marble, honed and fashioned in the sands of the shoreline.

Carefully rolling up the sleeves up to his forearms, he took another white towel from your vanity, dipped it into the basin of water, and slowly, reverently, cleaned off his knives.

The precision and the intention are all practiced methods, a ritual, even.

A ritual that enraptured you and your lovers.

Corinthian set the clean knives on another plush white towel, placing a kiss on each of their hilts, before turning to meet your gaze through his dark signature glasses.

“Well well, you three have been patient. Is this all for me?” He drawled.

Hob smirked, kissing your neck, continuing in his prior conquest of teasing your clit to which you immediately squirmed, holding back a groan.

“Such pretty sounds, my sweet,” Morpheus murmured as Corinthian walked over to the bed, nestling into his creator’s embrace. You were grateful Morpheus had insisted on a large bed, one that he could adjust in any manner he chose.

For a moment you were sure the four of you would break the bed or struggle for room, but now that all of you are on it, it is comfortable, safe, and warm.

Warm like Hob’s insistent fingers to which you spread your legs further, welcoming him in, arching into his chest as he smiled at you, murmuring encouragement.

It did not take long for Morpheus and Corinthian to partake as well, them rotating between using their tongues and fingers upon you, driving you made and over the edge. Soon enough you pulled each of them in for a kiss, groaning your thanks to them for a wonderful evening, one you are sure not to forget.

Hob cast a gentle smile your way, kissing your hand, before dragging his tongue along it, his ministrations continuing to your fingers. You raised a questioning brow, as did you other two lovers who were quickly enraptured once more with each other and their tongues.

Hob shrugged nonchalantly as his tongue threaded nimbly between your fingers, sending surges of heat along your spine and you hope and pray that it is not obvious the vice he already had you in for the second, maybe even third, time that evening.

Taking his sweet time, he does not break contact as he takes your index finger in his mouth, tongue dancing with confidence before he adds in another finger. You are almost lost at the feeling paired with his eye contact.

The act alone was erotic, sparking your mind but watching him riled you further. You had to look away, you had to. Until Morpheus wrapped around behind you, grasping you, pressing his chest up against you.

He strokes his hands down your arms, sending goosebumps in their wake. “Let Hob work, love. You can be good for us, right?”

Corinthian grumbled as he shuffled closer, slumping behind Morpheus, ever the clinger and in want of a hug. He compromises by resting his head on Morpheus’s shoulder.

You sighed in the agony of Hob’s ministrations, ashamed that something so small could rile you up, having you in a chokehold. “I can be good sometimes. If and only if it happens only for you three.” You smirk, noting Morpheus’ excitement pressing against your lower back.

So this is riling him up, too.

“What if I said I wanted to watch you and Corinthian makeout?” You mutter in your throes of it all, your brain becoming mush, spewing your desires, the darker impulses.

Corinthian raises a brow and Morpheus bridges the gap between them lips and bodies colliding as one. You lose them in a flurry of black and white entranced by them, by Hob, pressing his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. You fall into Hob, into the cacophony of affection and desire, enjoying the whispers, groans, and moans that befell the four of you.

Slowly, and oh so lovingly they tend to you and each other, your body trembling once you’re completely spent, your heart thrumming in your chest as Hob sinks into you, moaning low all while Corinthian and Morpheus watch, utterly enthralled as you come apart for Hob.

Once you’re all spent, Hob licked the remaining remnants of the combined mess of their desire on your stomach, groaning all the while.

“You’re all devastatingly pretty. How lucky am I to have you,” you whisper to the now empty room, lit by a single black candle and yellow flame.

You heard them all shuffle in the darkness, heading to clean themselves up and Morpheus nuzzled up next to you and you felt a coolness between your thighs, registering the cloth he used to gently clean you off.

You smiled in the dark at the gesture. All three of them were so good to you and completely yours. All of you they could not imagine for more and they adored you and would continue to all until the hours of the night, where dreams and nightmares collided.

They would meet you there time and time again, always there, holding you and never letting go.

******

#hobrintheus x reader #morpheus x reader #the corinthian x reader #hob gadling x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman smut #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #polyamory #my writing #my alleyway

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 8.5k

TW: Guns, S2 E14/15 ie Revelations (lmao sorry gang), guns, police (acab), torture, character death, mentions of death, dead bodies, rabid dogs, loooots of bible talk, mentions of kissing, brief reminiscing of potentially more sticks to canon pretty closely meaning if you have issues with the Episode Revelations, then this might not be for you, neediness, crying, lack of crying, internalized emotions, mentions of cheating, mentions of past relationship trauma

A/N: So I'm pretty sure this reads as gn! Reid does quote a proverb that references women, but that's because the bible wasn't big on inclusivity when it came to shaming people who enjoyed sex...anywho! I love any and all feedback! Enjoy!

You, Emily, Hotch, Derek, Gideon and the Sheriff sat around the computer, staring at a woman tied up in a barn, in her slip dress, mouth duct taped over. A figure, who had hidden his face, was reading out a passage of the bible. Your eyes were glued to the screen.

A portion of Jezebel shall dogs eat the flesh of.

“No. no.” You turned around, not wanting to watch what was happening on the screen, just hearing it was almost too much.

“Jezebel’s Death.” muttered Gideon, his voice filled with solemnity.

“My god.” Emily turned away from the screen, copying your actions.

Finally, Hotch told Emily to turn it off, but not before the Sheriff jumped up. “Wait.”

You all looked at him, confusion written all over everyone’s faces.

“You hadn’t seen enough.” Derek quipped.

“Those dogs. Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would’ve had them impounded but the victim knew the owner.” The sheriff was sure about it, more sure about this than anything he had seen in his life. “A neighbor, he didn’t want to press charges.”

Gideon stared at him. “You sure?”

“As god as my witness.” The sheriff scrambled for his notebook, flipping to find something. “Three mangy mixes, I knew those dogs looked sick. I called in animal control, but I don’t know if they ever followed up on it.”

“Here it is.” He looked up from the page.

“You have the owner’s name?” Hotch leaned over glancing into the notebook.

“Hankel.”

Your eyes went wide. “Hankel?”

“Tobias Hankel.”

“That’s where Reid and JJ are.” You looked over at Hotch, who watched several waves of emotion fly over your face, trying to control all of them. He nodded and looked at everyone. “Alright let’s go.”

The sheriff yelled out for people to grab their gear while you asked Hotch for a second outside. He nodded and followed you outside to the parking lot. It was cold out, only because of the night breeze, allowing yourself to enjoy the lack of sun and heat.

Hotch was the only person who actually knew about you and Spencer’s relationship, not because you didn’t trust the team, but because the less people that knew about it, the better. You had watched agents lose their loved ones over and over, being used as pawns against one another, and you were terrified of that happening. The team knew you two really liked each other, and you would hope that it showed since you had been dating for almost a year.

You were the team's newest addition, right after Elle, younger than Spencer by a year, but still boasting your own PhD. The two of you clicked right away. And to a room of profilers, it was obvious that you two would work perfectly together, and you did.

So when you started dating a couple months later, you had kept it a secret, just to test things out, not make it public before you were sure. But then the whole “Fisher King” incident happened, and then Elle disappeared, which meant Emily had just joined, causing there to be really no time to just drop another bombshell on a team.

You didn’t mind though. It meant that despite the teasing, you got reassurance that Spencer absolutely had a crush on you, regardless of relationship status. Morgan teasing him over glancing at you one to many times had definitely boosted your ego a bit, but a little confidence never hurt anyone.

You looked up at Hotch, really trying not to freak out, counting your inhales and exhales, timing them so your heart wouldn’t give out. “Hotch if they aren’t…”

“I know.”

“I’m not asking you to promise me that everything is okay and he’s going to be fine, because we honestly have no reason to believe anything is wrong in the first place, but I–I just need to know that whatever might go down, I’ll have your support because…”

He nodded and put a hand on your arm, giving it a squeeze. “I know. I’m going to give you another minute out here, but then we need to go.” He went back inside, letting you close your eyes, breathing in the air, letting the coolness still your chest.

It was hard to only have Hotch know at times like these, or at least confirm his suspicions. You had been alone for about thirty seconds when Derek came out to greet you, bringing you your vest.

“Stressed out there Girl Genius?”

You nodded and accepted the vest, sliding it on, remaining silent.

“Hey.” You looked up at Derek who held his arms out, and you gratefully accepted the invitation. “Everything’s going to be okay. Maybe he’ll finally admit that he loves you if something bad happens.”

His joke landed but not in the way Derek thought. You scoffed. Derek sighed and pulled away a bit. “He really does like you Y/N, you just have to be patient with him.” You almost felt bad for not telling Derek the scoff was because you already had told one another, quite recently actually.

“Maybe Derek. Maybe. But for now, I want to make sure they’re both okay, and I’d rather it be sooner than later.”

The police pulled up to the Tobias household, sirens wailing, lights flashing around. You jumped out the car, gun in your holster, following Derek and Emily.

The sheriff stopped Morgan and told him about the barn in the back, and the three of you moved to the back of the house. You took out your gun and slowly followed behind Morgan and Prentiss, watching the door of the barn swing back and forth slightly in the wind.

Derek clicked on the flashlight, and you two did the same, following behind him as he took the lead into the barm. You shined a light through the empty stalls, rocking back and forth between each side, looking for any sign of either Spencer or JJ.

Emily’s light landed on one of the dogs, dead—shot. You swung your light the opposite way, finding another dog. Just then Derek took a step back, having found the mattress in which the remains of that poor woman was, or at least all of her blood soaked through the entire fabric of the mattress. You immediately turned away, not being able to look at it. You had a very strong stomach, unusually strong since you worked with the FBI and had seen plenty of inhumane things no human should be capable of, but something about this particular scene was unbearable to look at.

“Damn.” Derek whispered before you all whipped around when you heard someone scream “F.BI.”.

JJ. Her hair was matted, eyes wide, chest heaving. She was shaking, eyes running between the people standing in front of her.

“JJ!” Derek yelled her name as everyone had swiveled around to her, all twisting your aim to JJ. .

“Don't. Move.”

“JJ it’s us–Morgan. Prentiss. Y/L/N. Don’t Shoot, it’s okay” He slowly moved towards her, trying to calm her down, get her to put down her weapon. “Don’t shoot. It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

She lowered her gun, eyes quickly moving from each of you, you could watch as her mind tried to calm down, letting the adrenaline dissipate. You approached her, getting close, trying not to startle her.

“It-Tobias Hankel is the unsub.” She let out, eyes still quickly scanning around her, almost searching for something.

“We know.” Emily exhaled, as she placed a hand gently on JJ’s arm. The sheriff leaned over and informed Derek that they were going to call an ambulance for JJ.

“W-W-We just thought he was a witness…” JJ holstered her gun before watching as Morgan looked around as the dead dogs surrounded all four of you.

“I had to kill them.” Her eyes had glossed over.

“JJ, where’s Reid?” Derek spoke, looking at her expectantly, but eyes filled with worry.

“They just completely tore her apart. There’s nothing even left–”

“JJ. Look at me.” You grabbed her hand, causing her to look up at you. “Look at me. Where’s Reid.”

“We–We split up, he told me he was going to go around back.” JJ started to panic again, realizing he wasn’t with you. You also started to tremble, pulling your hand away slightly, exiting the barn before you could hear another word, gun drawn.

You could hear as Morgan followed you, almost running to the back of the barn. You stopped once you turned the corner, slowly creeping forward, eyes scanning across the corn, but also listening in for potentially any sound coming from behind the barn. You saw some trampled stalks, and turned to look at Derek.

“He followed him into the field Derek.”

Derek saw your thought process, and the conclusion you reached as you reached it, which was a matter of seconds. As you went to dash into the field, following the very faint trail, Derek grabbed your arm and stood his ground, meaning you fought against him, and he struggled a bit, but ultimately won. “If you think for one second I am about to let you go into that field, you’re crazy.”

“Dere–”

“That’s clearly a sign that someone got dragged. He’s not in there.”

You huffed, biting your lip. You were trying so hard not to break in front of Derek, but every second you thought about what Tobias Hankel had been doing to people, meshed with every other second you thought about that happening to Reid, it was a miracle you could still even listen to Derek.

“Go inside with Hotch.”

You nodded slightly, holstering your gun, and running your hands down your face. “You’re not going to leave me alone until you watch me walk away from the cornfield.” You grumbled out, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He sighed and pulled you into a quick hug. “Look. I don’t know what has actually occurred between you and Boy Genius, but you charging off into a field we know he probably isn’t in, won’t help us find him. I’m going to talk to Prentiss and JJ.”

You nodded and pulled away, running your hands through your hair, quickly walking towards the house as Derek moved towards the ambulance, not fully taking his eyes off of you. He was curious as to what the team didn’t know about you two, but pushed it aside since clearly pestering you about it wasn’t going to help any of you find Reid.

The next morning, You had not slept, and were only slightly avoiding JJ, basically walking laps around the outside of the house, trying to let your brain get some oxygen and calm down. Or, you would be standing around a table with the team, sitting in front of the computers, and your leg would bounce, you would tap your hands against your arm, anything to keep yourself from breaking down.

Obviously the team all picked up on it. It’s not even like they were microexpressions, you were just visibly anxious. All your brain could think about were flashes of Spencer, and whether or not he was still alive, completely unaware of his whereabouts since the lead from last night turned out to be a dead end. Hankel was smart, which made you nervous.

You were currently walking around the living room, wearing a circle into the rug, which was barely holding it together, reading Tobais’s diaries, trying to find anything. You heard JJ welcome in Garcia, and you paused to look up at Garcia with a brief smile on your face before continuing. Once they got her set up, Hotch tilted his head, requesting you come a bit closer so you all could talk.

“So, I’m guessing nothing new since I left.” He started.

“Not but,” Emily started. “The good thing is this guy documented everything second of his life. The bad news is we’re still unpiling.”

“From the looks of it, he hasn't left this place in years.” JJ sighed and stared down at all of the notebooks and papers strewn across the table.

“He knew he could pretend to be looking for a motel and throw us off his trail.” Emily looked up at Hotch, but Gideon interrupted.

“No no no, it’s more than that. Sheriff’s office, 911 calls. Every time he engages the police and gets away with it, he reassures himself. God’s on his side not ours.”

You just walked into the kitchen and lightly dropped the notebook you had been reading onto the table, brushing past Hotch. “I need some air.” You mumbled to him, shoving the rickety screen door open and quickly hustling down the steps.

You ran your hands through your hair, trying to breathe, trying to fight the urge to burst into tears and let yourself just lay on the ground. The only reason you hadn’t done so yet was because the urge to find Spencer was so much stronger.

After a moment, you heard the screen door open and someone come down the steps. “Emily I’m fi–”

“Y/N,”

You looked up and made eye contact with JJ. Her hair was flatter, less knots, but you could still see she had been shaken up. It didn’t matter. You were trying, desperately trying to not blame JJ for Reid’s disappearance, and you knew she was struggling with it too, but the fact that they weren’t together meant that he got dragged off somewhere, technically on her watch.

“JJ now’s no–”

“Please let me—”

“JJ.” You cut her off, arms crossed over your chest. You were only truly able to make eye contact with her for a couple seconds before you had to avert your eyes upwards. “Seriously. I’m fine. Go back inside.”

Your voice was curt, and running along the line of unkindness, but you were restraining yourself, trying to give your coworker, your friend, someone who had become your family, an out in this moment, but she just wouldn’t take it.

“You won't even look at me!” That got your attention back to her. “You haven’t spoken to me since the barn, and you’re avoiding me. I-I know what we did wasn’t…”

You huffed, now only staring at her, challenging her. “I’m listening now, JJ. That’s what you wanted right.”

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you blame me. I blame myself. But I can’t stand you being so distant and I–”

“Look. JJ.” You cut her off again. “I am doing everything in my power not to scream at the top of my lungs how stupid it was, for the both of you to split up.” Your voice was low, and steady—it was unnerving to hear since you had always spoken with such character, such lightness. “But right now, I can’t yell at Spencer. And I really do not want to yell at you. I think it is one of the stupidest decisions either of you could have made. But blaming you for a decision you both made, doesn’t help us find him any sooner. So please. Just leave me alone right now.”

You brushed past her, not making any actual contact with her, since the next person who touched you might actually be the reason you start sobbing. JJ was absolutely shocked, frozen in the yard, trying not to cry herself. You didn’t want JJ to cry, you really didn’t, but she was pushing on something that is usually completely surrounded by walls and locks and gates.

You blinked away your tears and walked back into the house, towards the kitchen. Hotch and EMily looked up at you, both noticing JJ wasn’t next to you, and your face somehow managed to seem more frustrated and anxious than before.

Spencer had bought you a necklace for your one year anniversary. It was a very simple chain, with a small pendant on the front. Inside it was a pressed flower, a small, pressed, red salvia in the center of the clear pendant. You loved flowers, it was very obvious from the way that you always had a small vase of a few fresh flowers in the corner of your desk, or you had a signature pair of floral converse you always wore when you went out. It took Spencer all of three seconds to figure out that you loved flowers, and all of one question later to find out if you knew, and liked, Victorian Flower language; of course you did. When you two had started secretly seeing one another, you had been updating the flowers weekly. It was a part of your regular schedule, so no one questioned it. But suddenly you were becoming deliberate in your mini bouquets, hints of longing (pink camellias), with pops of devotion (heliotrope), or secret adoration (gardenias) sprinkled with I think of you (blue salvia), eventually turning to bouquets of ever-lasting love (baby’s breath) and sunshine in his smile (yellow tulips). Every time you would update the weekly bouquet, the team would comment on how the new bouquet looked so beautiful, the colors brightening up the place. But when Spencer walked through the door, you loved watching his eyes immediately dart for the flowers, decoding the message for only him. The red salvia on your chest was proudly proclaiming forever mine, for Spencer, and no one was the wiser.

When you wore it happily the day after your anniversary, exchanging the previous bouquet for a new one filled with yellow lilies, Spencer cou;d’ve known right then and there that you were over the moon, if you hadn’t already told him, and shown him, the night before. When Derek watched you fiddle with the necklace all day, he had made a joke that clearly you have someone in your life and “Pretty Boy needs to step up his game”, he had misread your slight smirk as a tease on Spencer, and not on himself. It was not a month later that you were fiddling with it in Tobias Hankel’s kitchen, your biggest tell of all, that you were nervous about something. But to most of the profilers in the room, you were nervous and fiddling with your necklace, to Hotch, it was a clear sign that he needed to keep you at a slight distance to make sure your head stays clear. If any of them had been thinking clearly, they might have made the connection from the necklace to Reid, but no one really was.

JJ followed a minute later, and quietly went back to her seat. It was clear she had been crying, or trying not to, but so were you, so it honestly didn’t make you feel as bad as it probably should have.

“Hey guys.” Emily’s voice cut through your thoughts. “I have got a list of Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Someone’s name and number is written on it, but it looks to be about twelve years old.”

“Try it. There are no bad leads.” Gideon answered.

You sighed, but watched curiously as Gideon stared at the wallpaper. He peeled off a section of it, revealing what seemed to be the same phrase over and over and over again.

“Honora Partum Tuum.” He read aloud.

“Honor thy father.” You finally spoke up. For much of the team, it was the first time they had heard your voice in hours.

Gideon looked over at you, realizing in his eyes, nodding.

“Hey guys. I think I got something.” You heard Derek yell, which meant all of you rushed out of the house, running over towards Derek. He had his gun out, pushing hay off of doors to what seemed like a storm cellar.

Derek pulled open one of the doors, shining his light into the darkness. “Tobias Hankel, F.B.I!” Hotch gave him the go ahead to slowly move down the stairs, then allowing Emily to follow. Hotch then gave you a small look, giving you the impression that you would not be allowed down into that cellar until it was cleared. You stood back slightly, not having the energy to have a bout in front of the others, still holding your gun, and scanning the surrounding area, keeping an eye particularly on the barn and the fields behind it.

You heard Derek yell out “Tobias Hankel” a couple of times, making your pulse beat faster–maybe they had found him, maybe he was okay. There was no other sound than Derek though. Maybe he was dead. Maybe someone else had spencer. Maybe—Derek came out of the storm cellar, covering his mouth.

You looked at him expectantly and shook his head. “Tobias’s father…on ice.”

You exhaled, a wave of emotions crashing through your veins that only left you more stressed than before.

Hotch came out of the cellar next, and motioned for you to follow him. You knew this conversation was coming, and the fact that it hadn't happened already surprised you.

Once the two of you were out of earshot, Hotch looked at you, not as a friend, not as someone who helped you through some dark moments in your life, but as your boss. “Can you continue, or do you need to sit the rest of this case out.”

His tone wasn’t harsh, quite the opposite. He watched as someone he cared for was slowly crumbling, closing off her walls to the outside, meaning you were more in your own head, than truly present.

You nodded, sighing. “If I’m not here, then I might go out there on my own. I’m not telling you that you’re babysitting me.” Hotch tried to cut you off, but you barrelled through. “But I need to be here, because if a breakthrough happens, if any of us find a location, I need to be in that car Hotch. If we find Hankel, I have a full understanding that however I react is the fate of my job. I am well aware of that. And I love this team with basically everything I have, so I need you to trust me, the way I am trusting all of you to find him.”

Hotch watched you for a moment before nodding. His features softened and he placed his hand on your arm again. It was the most contact Hotch ever really gave, but it meant so much. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, managing to keep it together. “No. I’d be more concerned if I was.” You tried to crack a joke, causing both of you to smile before he nodded at you. “I’ll see you in there.”

He left you standing by yourself, giving you a moment to collect yourself, before you followed him back into the house, back into the kitchen, back into the journals.

Spencer being gone for so long meant you had a laundry list of things you missed about him. You missed the way he would ramble on about anything in the world that he knew about. You missed his sweater vests, how they never seemed to match his outfit, but somehow always pulled the look together. You missed his dorky smile at you from across his desk. You missed the notes he would leave you in your apartment when he would get up to get to work, knowing you always had arrived before him at work since you lived closer. You missed the feeling of his hands in yours. The feeling of the hand on your back, on your shoulder.

But right now, you missed how fast that son of a bitch could read. Oh my god. If you had to read through one more of Tobias’ notebooks, you might lose your mind. You placed it facedown on the table and placed your head in your hands, giving your eyes a well deserved break.

After a moment, Derek spoke up. “There’s something weird going on here.” He was slowly pacing around the table.

“You think?” quipped the sheriff from across the room, and you snorted slightly in agreement and amusement.

“No seriously, check this out.” Derek looked up at everyone in the kitchen. “This journal is full of religious ramblings. He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 – if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the lord, ye shall offer it of your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42, but then it goes blank for days.”

You removed your face from your hands, looking over at Derek.

“Maybe he got sick of writing.” The sheriff offered up.

“I think I got it.”

“What is it?” Gideon prodded Hotch, all of you watching him.

“Journal entry, December 6th, Father sick. Wants me to put him down. I say thou shalt not kill, he says honor thy father. Must pray for guidance.” Hotch looked over at Gideon.

“So he kills his father as an act of mercy?”

“This is two months ago. Tobias Hankel’s father had been dead for four months already.” Hotch raised his eyebrows, Gideon and Derek starting to realize what he was getting at.

“That’s exactly it.” Derek moved one of the chairs away from the table. “Look at the floor. These scuff marks are fresh. I mean, it’s like two people were moving the chairs constantly trying to fight for control.”

“So?”

“This journal matches Charles Hankel’s handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias’ bedroom—it’s got junk piled from floor to ceiling but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection.” Derek was explaining to the Sheriff, who honestly was starting to get on your nerves with some of these questions.

“So you’re telling me one of Tobias’ personalities was his father?”

“Well, Tobias was raised with a strict religious code. Black and white, right and wrong.” Gideon interrupted. “When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give.”

“His brain couldn’t handle the moral contradiction so it split into two personalities in order to keep his father alive.” Hotch looked over at Derek, a conversation between the two of them happening silently and quickly.

“So who is Raphael?”

“My guess, he’s the mediator between the two.” You spoke up, watching hotch and derek before looking back at the sheriff.

“Angels have no human emotions.” Gideon continued your thoughts. “Live or die, they don’t care. As long as it’s God’s will.”

“We need to start profiling Tobias’ father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid.” Hotch quickly looked at you before looking at Derek.

Derek nodded and started to head out of the room. “I’ll get Garcia on it”.

“Any luck with the rehab contact?” You looked up as Emily and JJ walked in, hoping they would have some answer for you.

Emily sighed. “Well he has no idea where Hankel might be, but we did learn that he has a serious drug problem. Dilaudid.”

“Well that could explain the psychotic fracture.” Hotch nodded over at Gideon.

“What are you talking about?”

Gideon, who had been staring at the photos all along the mirror that they had taped up, looked over at JJ. “Tobias is living as at least three different people; himself, Raphael, and his father.”

“Well this could be some bad news.”

Honestly, to you, it felt like all the sheriff did was bring more and more bad news.

“A computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. A suburb outside of Atlanta Thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives, and a satellite.”

“If it’s Tobias that puts him right back in business.” Hotch cast a quick glance over at you, watching as you tensed up, knowing the images you were desperately trying to keep out of your head. In response, you stood up and left the room, heading over to Derek and Penelope in the next room.

Penelope was sitting at the desk, typing and typing away. Derek looked up as you entered, giving you a small smile. You shook your head. “They think Tobias stole—” Just as you started, your mouth stopped. The screens in front of Penelope had changed, going blank with one cursor in the corner.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Penelope’s eyes were wide.

Spencer filled up every single screen, except for Penelope's laptop, and the one screen she was directly connected to.

“Oh my god.” You yelled, one hand flying to cover up your mouth, the other immediately grabbing your necklace, eyes flitting from screen to screen. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t happening–it couldn’t be happening.

Spencer was tied to a chair, his clothes disheveled, his hair a mess, he was missing both shoes and one sock. The left side of his head was soaked with blood, hair wet with it.

This was your worst nightmare, and yet you could not look away. You watched as his chest rose and fell, giving you at least the calm that he was alive. But tears still pricked the corners of your eyes, breathing was becoming harder and harder, but you couldn’t shut down. Your body wouldn’t let you.

Your yell had the others almost run into the room you were in, all of them barreling into the room, filling it up with bodies. Once they all looked at you, each one slowly realized what you were staring at.

“He’s been beaten.” Emily so astutely pointed out.

“Can’t you track him.” JJ was also struggling to breathe, guilt consuming her entire body.

“Hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” Garcia said solemnly, still doing her best to find something, anything.

Hotch turned to look at your face. At this point, most of the blood had left your face, leaving you pale, and nauseous. He tried to calmly gestured for you to leave, giving you an out, but you stared straight ahead, somehow becoming more pale, more sick, when Gideon pointed it out for you all.

“This is for us. He knows we’re here.”

Derek huffed and turned away for a second, trying not to bash the wall in. “I’m gonna put this guy’s head on a stick.”

“Why can’t you locate him?” You could kiss Hotch for staying so level headed in this moment. Your eyes quickly tore away from the screens, looking at Garcia.

“He’s rerouting to a different I.P. address every thirty seconds. I can’t track him.”

Can you really see inside men’s minds?

All of you quickly found a screen to watch as you heard the voice take over.

See these vermin? Choose one to die.

All you could do was stare at his face–his eyes. You had never seen Spencer so vulnerable, so tired, barely fighting at all. You watched as his eyes scanned across something to his right. All of you held your breath, waiting for Spencer to say something, anything.

You choose one to live.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled again as Spencer shook his head slightly, defying Tobias, or whoever’s wishes.

I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior.

“You’re a sadist in a psychotic break. You won’t stop killing. Your words aren’t true.”

The other heathens are watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved.

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” Spencer was staring into his eyes, challenging him. But Tobias, or Charles, picked him up by the collar, both hands, and brought his face really close to Spencer's.

Can you really see inside my mind boy. Can you see I'm not a liar. He chucked Spencer back into the chair, causing Spencer to flinch from another bruise you probably couldn't see. Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise they’re all dead.

“All right. I’ll choose who lives.” You inhaled sharply, Derek tensing up next to you.

They’re all the same.

You all waited, in silence, as Spencer scanned what you assumed were the laptops that had been stolen. His eyes flickered to the camcorder, shame in voice, looking back at Tobias or Charles. “Far right screen.”

Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creek Road

“You got that?”

“Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon with the F.B.I. I need you to close your laptop screen right now. Someone has been connecting into your laptop’s camera and watching you. For your safety, you need to close it.

“Raphael.”

The computer screens went black.

“Garcia, get him back.”

Derek turned away, slamming the door against the wall as he stalked out of the room, beyond pissed.

“Garcia, get him back.” You repeated, absolute horror dawning on all of your faces. Your eyes were frantically running over every screen every ten seconds, hoping that maybe one of them would still hold the image of Spencer.

“I’m t-trying.” She whispered, furiously typing away, trying to hack into something, or find Hankel, anything really.

“So now what. Wait for a 911 call?” The sheriff's voice rang out in your ear, and it grated against you. “And hope we get there in time.”

Once you had gotten the 911 call, you, JJ, Emily, and Derek were told to stay at the house with Garcia. You heard Derek and JJ in one of the other rooms, but you were just standing next to Garcia’s chair, not moving an inch. All you could do was stare at the screens, eyes flitting from face to face on unexpecting potential victims.

JJ walked in, looking more like she had in the barn–disheveled, guilty. “Any more signs of Reid.”

Both you and Garcia shook your heads.

“He just posted the last murder online.” Garcia’s voice was grave, eyes dark. “It had over 17,000 hits in the first twenty minutes.”

“I want to see it.”

“No you don’t.” You answered JJ, not turning to look at her.

“Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want.”

You tore your eyes away from the screens and over at JJ.

“If I can’t watch this…I have no business being in the field.”

“J-ge, it’s not a competition.” Garcia whispered.

“I-I need to see it.”

You shook your head and walked out of the room, not being able to watch it again. You walked into the kitchen where Derek and Emily were, discussing something. Derek’s eyes quickly flicked over to you, surprised slightly by the fact that you had left the screens.

“We can trace their whole family history. Here we got happy smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all A’s and B’s. But at eight years old, we got nothing.”

“That’s his mother leaving.” Emily shot you a quick, yet sympathetic smile, before looking back at the mirror. “Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit.”

“Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son.” Derek continued.

“Which corresponds to Tobias’ drug use. He’s trying to escape.” You watched as Emily and Derek worked through the profile again.

“So wherever Reid is, It was Tobias’ choice, not his fathers.” Derek sighed and scanned over the pictures, trying to find maybe a common location amongst them.

“How’d you figure?”

“Look at these two lives. They’re like inverse graphs. One’s getting weaker while the other ones getting angrier. Tobias would run away while his father would have stood and fought.” Derek looked back at Emily.

She nodded. “Okay so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I’ll go back through the journals and see if I can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place

“Uh where’s Gideon.” You finally spoke up.

“He’s upstairs. Why? What’s going on?”

“Hankel just posted the latest murder.” JJ walked out of the room that you had just been in.

You watched as she quickly called out to Gideon that the newest murder had been uploaded, and as he quickly made his way into the adjoining room. You heard him panicking, trying to come up with a solution to get people to stop watching the videos.

You were fiddling with your necklace, mind lost on the day before all of this started. It had been sunny in DC. Something you didn’t get all the time, especially when you were only there half of the year. You had gone over to Spencer's apartment, picking up your favorite take out on the way over. He had been teaching you how to play chess. You already knew the basics of chess, which pieces moved where, and how to analyze a board on a move to move basis, but Spencer started to teach you strategies. He would explain every single move he was making, and how he was able to predict a check in three. It was adorable. In return, for every game you would learn together, Spencer would watch a movie with you. He would watch movies if you had asked him in the first place, but this time, you gave him what he thought was the most enthralling commentary the entire time. You would put on your favorite movies and ramble on and on about a certain actor getting sick during this shot, or the fact that the two romantic leads hated one another, or even someone breaking their toe during one scene—he adored listening to you ramble, in the same way you loved listening to him. That night was movie night. You had picked cult-classic “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” you were absolutely enthralled to explain to Spencer the interactive portions of the movies, the screaming at the screen, the details of the pink triangle on Dr. Franknfurter’s smock, the repetition of certain musical themes. You two hands ended up tangled on the couch, giggling about something, drunk on each other’s company—it was perfect.

But the sound of Spencer’s sob ripped through your thoughts. It took you three strides to be back with Garcia and Gideon, watching as Tobias slammed his fist across Spencer’s face. Your hands moved to your mouth as your eyes watered.

You heard as he begged Tobias to help him, bruises flowering across his face, a cut across his lip breaking the once smooth skin.

He can’t help you. He’s weak. Confess. Confess your sins.

You watched as Spencer’s chair was chucked to the ground, while he was still tied to it. Every single atom of air had left your lungs. You could feel the pit of your stomach drop, unable to move, unable to blink. Tears welled up in your eyes as the love of your life was being beaten to death, and you couldn't do anything about it.

Several studies have shown that plants can feel pain. Whether or not they are completely and one hundred percent credible is something you and Spencer have jokingly argued about multiple times. You liked to think that they didn’t considering you managed to bring in a fresh crop of newly cut flowers each week. But these scientists claim that plants can feel pain. They can feel the pain of being cut from the vine or stem, and they can feel themselves dying as you watch them wilt in the vase. You and JJ were quite similar in feeling like you had to prove something to yourself, that if you couldn’t handle what was happening, maybe you shouldn’t be in the field, shouldn’t be in the BAU.

Watching Spencer have a seizure on the ground, unable to run to him, unable to save him, unable to do anything but just watch in horror, made you feel every single ounce of pain you could have ever imagined. When his body stilled, and Tobias exited whatever building they were in, you were still standing there, completely and utterly in shock. Hotch took your arm and wordlessly tugged on your arm, but you couldn’t move. Your feet were cemented to the floor. Even if you wanted to run the other way, you couldn’t. Hotch tried again, but you just stared at the screen, constantly flipping the necklace over and over and over and over again. If you moved, you might start sobbing, you might collapse, you might have just died on the spot.

Spencer's lips were still. His lips would ramble when he had something he found quite interesting to speak about, they would fidget when he got nervous, they would form quirky expressions when he had a moment of realization. But not once have they ever been this still. And it was dissolving your heart. Moment by moment another small section would boil down to dust, not even letting you have the chance to have your heart ripped out, because that would mean your heart would still be together, still be beating, just not with you anymore. Your heart was dying because Spencer was dead.

The first stage of grief is denial. All you could do was hope, pray, anything that this was some sick and twisted joke, that Spencer was okay. That Spencer was alive. That you weren’t staring at Spencer’s body on the screen, not knowing where he was, and if you would ever find him, or his body.

Lucky for every single person in that room, and lucky for Tobias Hankel, you watched as he burst back through the door, dropped down to his knees, and tried to resuscitate Spencer. Your eyes widened as you watched every single chest compression, every single moment of mouth to mouth. After the longest thirty seconds of your life, Spencer convulsed, air filling his lungs, coughing.

“Oh my god.” You almost threw up into the hands that were covering your mouth because you were so grateful for the fact that Spencer was breathing, that his dead body was somewhere you might never have found it.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Emily leaned over to Garcia. “When was the video of the last murder poster?”

“9:23.”

“And what was the time of death?”

“The 911 call came in at 9:04, and the murders must have been moments later.”

“That's only a 19 minute difference.” You spoke up, figuring out what Emily was getting at.

“How long would it take to post the mpeg.” Derek chimed in.

“2, 3 minutes.” Garcia looked over at you all.

“Lets call it 2. You figure a maximum of sixty miles per hour in a residential area, that means Hankel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene.” Derek reasoned, looking over at Hotch.

“Garcia, can we see it on a map?” Hotch leaned over Garcia.

“Call Farraday. I want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” Gideon turned to Derek, ready to give more instructions but you interrupted.

“Guys.”

You came back to life.

Spencer was looking up at Rapheal now. The complete shift in tone from Charles to Raphael to Tobias always made your hair stand on edge, but you could hear the anger that Raphael held.

There can only be one of two reasons.

“I was given CPR.” Even after he was just given his life back, he still managed to crack a joke.

There are no accidents. How many members are on your team?

“Seven”

You paused, ready to speak up, but Tobias beat you to it.

The seven angels who had the seven trumpets who prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and fire, mixed with blood and they were thrown to the earth.

“He thinks it’s revelations. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” Hotch explained.

“Hotch there are eight of us on this team.” You spoke, this time garnering the attention of everyone in the room. “He’s lying to Hankel, that's considered a sin right? If Hankel finds out—”

You were interrupted by the sound of a chair hitting the ground. Hankel had yanked Spencer’s chair upright, watching as he was jostled around.

Tell me who you serve.

“I serve you”

Then choose one to die

“What”

Your team members choose one to die.

“Kill me”

You inhaled sharply causing one of Derek's hands to find the small of your back. You had already watched him die once, but you can’t give CPR to a bullet through the brain.

You said you weren't one of them

“I lied”

Your team has six other members. Tell me who dies.

“No”

All of you watch as Tobias pulls one bullet out of his pocket, and clicks open the revolver. He placed it in, and spun the barrel, letting it close with a click. Spencer playing Russian roulette was not on your bucket list of things to do this year. Maybe force him to go kayaking with you, let him teach you some other game like Go, maybe even take a few days off for a real vacation and work each other up so desperately. But you could guarantee, this was not on that list.

Each time Spencer refused, and you heard the empty barrel fire, your heart gave out, again.

Choose, and prove you’ll do god's will.

“No.”

Click.

And again.

Choose.

“I won’t do it”.

Click.

And again.

Life is a choice.

“No.”

Click.

And again.

Choose.

Spencer’s pause made everyone hold their breaths. He had a 33.33% chance of getting shot, and luck had to run out, it always did.

“I-I choose…” You all waited, no one truly knowing what he could possibly be thinking. “Y/N Y/L/N.” Derek's hand on your back tensed up, all eyes looked at you, and all you could do was stare at Spencer on the screen. He wouldn’t just hand out your death sentence like that, he wouldn’t do that to you. Right? Right?

“Adulterer, cheating on my for months now. Puts their own needs above others and their feelings.” Your brows furrowed, hand immediately at the necklace you were wearing around your neck. This accusation confused the absolute shit out of you, since you had revealed to Spencer your history with a previous partner who had chea–oh. He was speaking to you.

“Oh my god.” You whispered.

“I would come home to bouquets of crimson roses and rosemary, or there would be begonias and clematis. I've only ever bought red salvias with baby’s breath—their favorite.” Spencer chuckled, putting on an act for Tobias.

“Pen! I need a pen.” You yelled, everyone now concerned you had lost your mind, but Garcia had quickly handed you hers as you tried to write down the flowers Spencer had listed off. Once you had all of them written down, you quickly ran out of the room.

“Genesis 23:4, For the lips of an immoral woman are as sweet as honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil. But in the end she is as bitter as poison, as dangerous as a double-edged sword.”

You only paused for a moment when you heard a gunshot, but you kept going, hoping and praying that you were right. You had found one of the empty pages of Tobais’ journals and wrote down the flowers:

crimson roses - mourning rosemary - remembrance clematis - poverty begonias - beware, watch out

You looked at the list of the flowers, over and over. “Mourning…” You mumbled, when it hit you. Quickly, you grabbed the bible on the table, flipping to find Genesis 23:4.

Morgan walked into the room, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Look I don't know about this potential relationship that you and Spenc-"

“I’m not a cheater.” You cast him a quick look, still flipping to find the page.

Derek started. “He’s not in his right mind Y/n.”

Gideon quickly followed. “Come on, look you can’t think anything of that..”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Well, yes, it is, but that’s not–”

Hotch cut you off. “He’s panickin—”

“Everyone. Stop.” They all obliged, watching as you picked up the notebook you had been writing in. “What is my worst quality?”

They all just stared at you.

“Okay I’ll start, I can be a total bitch.”

“You miss a concerning amount of briefings.”

“You can get overly emotional sometimes.”

“You’re extremely stubborn.”

“You don’t trust anyone easily.”

“Okay good, I’m all these things, but none of you said that I would ever put my needs over anyone. Especially over other’s feelings. Reid and I had a conversation about two weeks ago about my ex who would repeatedly cheat on me, among other things.” You took a little breath before continuing. “And he knew I would obviously remember a conversation like that. He also knows I love Victorian Flower Language, it’s one of my favorite interests. Some of the flowers he listed off, correspond to flowers you send in mourning, when someone has died, not the flowers you send someone to admit their love or hide it.”

You handed the bible to JJ. “And he also quoted Genesis Chapter 23, verse 4, Read it.”

JJ read out: “I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you, that I might bury my dead out of sight.”

“Spencer would never get it wrong unless it was on purpose. He’s in a cemetery.”

“I don’t see a cemetery” Garcia had pulled up the 17-mile radius again, looking between you and Hotch.

“Call up the first time we saw Reid.” Gideon was rubbing his hands together, trying to remember something.

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered, and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.”

Spencer had looked right at the camera, fucking brilliant man. He had been trying to contact you all since the first time he was on camera.

“Check to see if there are any reports of poaching in the last couple of days.” Hotch nodded at Gideon while Garcia speedily typed out her parameters, getting a response almost instantly.

“Okay uh, a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”

“Where are we talking?” Derek was behind you, watching as Garcia zoomed into a five mile radius around the farmer’s land.

“It would be someone that was old, dilapidated, run down. Clematis is a sign of poverty.”

JJ pointed to a small section on the screen. “What’s that patch of green there”

“Marshall parish, I think it's an old plantation.”

“Wait.” Emily quickly flipped through a journal, trying to find what she had remembered. “Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall.”

“Guys. There's a cemetery on the grounds.”

“Alright.” Hotch nodded at all of you. “Let's go.”

As you all headed out, Hotch stopped you, pulling you past the kitchen and into the living room. Derek shot you a sympathetic smile as he and the rest of the team exited the building. The living room would be far enough away from Penelope's prying ears, but it’s not like it mattered anymore—it was pretty obvious you and Spencer were sleeping together, if not dating.

“You’re not going.”

You scoffed at Hotch, expecting nothing less, but still willing to fight him about it.

“I’m serious Y/N. I need everyone out there to be as level headed as possible, and you and I both know that the second Spencer put his life on the line, second time round, you were about to raise hell and earth to get to him. If you can promise me, right here, right now, that your head is completely clear, then I will let you go with us, no questions asked.”

You pinched your eyes, letting out a hefty sigh. “Hotch I cannot be here in case he needs me.”

“If he gets hurt, you will not be able to function as an agent, and that is a risk I am not willing to take.”

Hotch is right. He almost always is.

The porch door swung open with the loudest screech yet, Derek appearing in his bullet proof vest, holding Hotch’s in his hand. “We’re heading out.”

Hotch nodded at you, a brief hand on your arm, before walking to the door.

“Hotch?”

He looked over at you.

“The last flower? Begonias?” He nodded at you, not sure where you were going with this.

“If you were sent begonias…it was a subtle warning that you were in danger. Please, be careful.”

“We will.”

And with that, the door slammed shut, and suddenly you were stuck in a ranch house, wondering whether or not Spencer was okay, and whether or not your team would even make it on time. You clutched at the necklace, twirling the pendant, watching as the headlights faded into the darkness, with the very real possibility, someone might not come back.

Next Part

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