#how to fix if computer hang

[barbieandkento]

₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: you're missing. and as your bodyguard, it's up to nanami to scour through tokyo to track you down. and maybe, fix a broken heart along the way. (bodyguard AU; gojo being a lovable idiot) word count: 3k

nanami should've known that taking his annual leave on the week of your birthday was a big mistake.

because not even half an hour after arriving at haneda airport, suitcase packed and his polo shirt pressed, he gets a phone call to his personal phone.

not his work phone.

his personal phone.

from none other than gojo satoru.

"nanami, i can't find her." gojo's panicked voice rings out from the other side, and judging by the clashing sounds of rushing cars and loud chatter in the background, gojo is wandering around a busy station somewhere in tokyo.

rubbing his forehead in an attempt to control his anger, nanami forces his tone to remain even and leveled whilst speaking to his (younger and less experienced) colleague.

"and just how did you lose her within the 30 minutes i left the compound and arrive at the airport?"

gojo sputters on the receiving end as if it's obvious.

"she said she wanted privacy to take a 'hot girl bath' so i was just waiting outside the bathroom-"

ah, of course. nanami thinks. the old "i want to take a bath" trick.

"but when she wasn't responding to what i was saying, i picked the lock on the door and the tub was empty!" nanami can hear gojo apologise to someone mid-sentence, seemingly having run into someone whilst rushing through the streets. "nanami, she left her spare phone on speaker, playing sounds of running water. she's an evil genius for fuck's sake!!!"

signalling to the boarding agent that he will no longer be boarding the flight, he turns on his heel towards the exit, already beginning to narrow down the list of places you could be in his mind.

"and let me guess, you can't track her phone?"

"well toji is trying, but apparently there's some bug on her phone that's screwing up the tracking mechanisms linked to the main computer? i don't know, a lot of computer jargon-"

flagging down a taxi, nanami lets out a curt sigh.

"alright. well, considering it's 9pm I'd say we have a solid hour and a half before she could be half-way across tokyo or half-way across the world."

"h-half away across the world?" gojo squeaks, already imagining how mad your father (his boss) is going to be. "oh my god, i'm gonna get fired."

nanami would feel bad for him if he wasn't so pissed off.

"not if we find her in the next 90 minutes. i'm on my way back, meet me at the compound."

"okay, okay. and uh... nanami?"

"yes?"

there's a moment of silence on the other end, as if gojo is carefully rethinking his words while nanami turns on his work phone to pull up his list of trusted contacts.

"thank you. so much. i-i owe you."

"you do." is all nanami says before he hangs up.

===================

given that gojo was the one working security detail when you went missing - his name on the call sheet and everything - nanami has no choice but to let him trail behind whilst he tears up half of tokyo trying to look for you.

his attention is squarely divided between looking at his work phone every few minutes (having texted every club owner, club hostess, and hotel bartender he knows of whether you've been seen at their establishment) and quietly dodging his way through crowds of people to locate you.

the first place nanami goes is your favorite club in downtown tokyo. gojo looks like a fish out of water there, his eyes nearly popping out of his head at all the attractive girls lining up to enter that nanami has to drag him by the collar to get him inside. his eyes immediately dart towards the vip booth (your usual spot) and the bar where you'd usually be seen ordering shots for your friends, but you're nowhere to be seen. the owner cuts in to say that she hasn't seen you all night.

jaw clenching, nanami has no choice but to thank the club employees and swiftly exit to save time.

the second place he tries to find you at is the total opposite. a quiet, izakaya sushi spot that only takes ten people at a time and takes months to reserve. gojo keeps trying to steal the sushi being prepared on people's plates as nanami questions (or interrogates, as gojo later complains) the chefs to your whereabouts.

apparently, the last time you were there was two weeks ago.

another bust.

then it's a fifteen minute cab ride to check out your favorite bar. nothing. a ten minute walk to your second favorite bar. still nothing. nanami's starting to get desparate, dragging gojo to the most absurd spots that you could be: an hermes store in ginza for a late night shopping spree. the okonomiyaki place that opens till 3am that you always eat at after a hangover. the art museum that does late night exhibitions on saturdays.

it's as if you're a ghost, impossible to see.

tokyo at 10pm is a blend of bright lights and fast moving cars, people bumping into each other with little regard as nanami presses himself against the brick wall of a closed down cafe, fingers trembling as he calls your best friend.

"hello?" shoko picks up almost immediately, much to his relief.

"hi, this is nanami."

"i know whose number this is, nanami. i've known you for five years."

he doesn't have the time for her sass today, letting the comment fly past him.

"listen, it's urgent. are you with (y/n) right now?"

"(y/n)?" she seems surprised at the question. "no. in fact, i asked her if she wanted to hang out today and she said she wasn't feeling well."

that surprises nanami. one, because you never do anything without her, and two, because for all accounts you were nowhere near sick when you waved him goodbye just a few hours ago.

"is something wrong?" she asks, voice tinged with concern. nanami suppresses a sharp sigh, smiling through the pain.

"nothing's wrong, just... let me know if she calls, okay?"

"o-okay. i'll let you know if she calls. promise."

"thank you."

gojo's been staring at nanami intently for the whole three minute conversation, fingers twitching nervously by his sides.

"she's not with shoko?" he knows the answer, but still asks.

"nope."

"oh my god i'm gonna get fired." gojo whispers in despair, pulling at his hair. nanami's only half listening, shutting off gojo's desperate whines as he plans out their next move. "oh my god i didn't think this would happen to me. i didn't think she'd run out, i just thought she was a little bit upset and needed time to cool off-"

nanami stops pacing around at that, head whipping around to look straight at his colleague

"what did you just say?"

gojo freezes.

"that i'm gonna get fired?!"

"no, before that. she was upset?"

gojo blinks at him, confused as to why he's being grilled on this particular point.

"well... yeah. her dad came into her room after you left and announced that he'd be flying to see his girlfriend in london for a few weeks."

realization washes over nanami like a tidal wave as his expression loosens, lips thinning in a contemplative manner. this, combined with shoko's comments of you faking sick, means there's only one place you could be at this hour.

"why's that important?" the younger man questions, still confused.

"i know where she is." nanami coughs, pocketing his phone into his suit jacket.

"great!" gojo brightens up at that, clapping his hands together. "where are we going to find her?"

"... this is a solo mission now, gojo."

gojo pouts at that, genuinely upset at nanami's refusal.

"what?! that's not fair! is this because i was the one who lost her? look, i already said sorry a million times-"

nanami raises his hand, shutting off gojo's ramblings.

"it's not about that, gojo. it's just... as her bodyguard of five years, i know when i need to approach her alone." he looks up at gojo, silently pleading with his eyes. "and i need to do this alone."

gojo opens his mouth, as if to argue again, but the words die in his mouth when he notices how serious nanami looks.

because it's not the usual, "professional and stern" type of serious nanami exudes.

instead, there's a mix of worry and sadness swimming in his irises.

===================

you love yoyogi park during this time of day.

there's not many people out, it being far too dark and cold for most people to want to hang out with friends or walk their dogs.

but that's what you like about being here this late.

to sit near the small fountain in the dark, stare at the ripples of water as the ducks drift by. the only sounds around you being the night breeze rustling through the trees and the twinkling of water.

here, you're alone. truly alone. no dad criticizing you underneath his breath, eyes full of discontent and frustration. no random junior employee trying to suck up to you to get a promotion at your father's company. and no bodyguard (or bodyguards, more accurately) tracking your every move.

you'd climbed out the bathroom window in just your t-shirt, sleep shorts and a light cardigan. you regret that decision now as you shiver, hugging the cardigan closer to your body.

then, suddenly, warmth envelopes you as someone's jacket is placed squarely on your shoulders.

"there you are." nanami's voice rings out in the dark.

surprisingly, you think, he doesn't sound angry (not fully, at least).

instead, he sounds tired, worried, and slightly pissed off (all at once).

"i don't need your jacket." you quip, as he sits down on the grass next to you.

the moment the lie leaves your lips, you're shivering, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"i'd rather you not get pneumonia and become bed-ridden for 3 weeks." he deadpans, making you turn around and lightly shove his shoulder.

"hey!" you pout, a sight which nanami finds adorable. "that was only once. and two years ago."

he hums, unconvinced.

"sure. but your father never let us live it down."

the mention of your father makes your smile drop, your mouth immediately souring at the thought.

"well who cares what he thinks." your tone is venomous, and with the way your shoulders suddenly tense up, nanami knows he's hit a sore spot. he lets the tense silence hang in the air, knowing that it's important to choose his next words carefully.

"what happened to your nightly bath?" an innocent, light question. a subtle reminder that you broke the rules by abandoning your assigned bodyguard.

you scoff, digging your heels into the dirt.

"well, that went out the window the moment my father told me he'd be leaving me - hell, the whole country - to go see his new twenty something girlfriend in london for a month."

"he's gonna miss your birthday?"

you scoff.

"yeah. but when does he not? i was stupid for thinking this year would be an exception. i guess i got my hopes up because-" your voice slightly breaks, and nanami has to fight his urge to hug you then and there. "because i'd done everything he asked me to do the past year. i went to the stylists he picked out. accepted a job at a company he approved of. smiled my way through every awful 'arranged date' with a wealthy man."

nanami's heart twists with jealousy at the mention of these dates, but he doesn't dare interrupt your rant.

"i thought i was actually living up to the family name. that maybe, if i'd sacrificed everything to make him happy, say no to that job abroad in germany to stay in tokyo and be the perfect heir, he'd...." your gaze travels downward, your hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket. "he'd stay. this time."

nanami shifts closer to you, carefully extending his right arm to curl against your shoulder. he pulls you against him and you melt against his touch, his body like a furnace protecting you from the cold night.

he doesn't say anything, only rubbing reassuring circles onto your skin. it's your favorite place in the world to be in - in his arms, feeling his touch. you feel safe as you hum in appreciation, a quiet but sullen recognition of the depressing truth.

"you scared gojo to death, you know." nanami mumbles. "poor kid kept on panicking about how he was going to get fired because he lost his boss' kid not even a month into his job."

you let out a short chuckle at that, head unmoving from where it rests on nanami's shoulder.

"you're partially to blame for that."

"am i?" he quips, smirking.

"well, you planned your annual leave on the week of my birthday."

it comes out more resentful than you mean it to. more resentful than you're allowed to be, at least, given that he's just your bodyguard. a very close friend, a confidant at best.

but you'd taken it personally, him going on vacation during a week special to you. and your father's sudden announcement had been the last straw.

you can feel nanami stiffen at your comment, his head twisting down to look at you. even in the darkness, you can make out the contours of his face, how his lips pull down in a frown and his eyebrows furrow in worry creating a dimple on his forehead.

"have i upset you with the change of dates for my annual leave?" he questions. unlike your father, when you disagree with him, nanami is calm and caring. "i know i usually don't take it this time of the year."

"it's stupid. i know. but..." you pull away from him slightly to look up straight at him. "you've been there for all my other birthdays. so i wanted you to be there for this one too."

his heart breaks at your confession. he knows you've been finding work life in tokyo difficult. your father's overbearing and tempermental, his expectations of you crushing, your colleagues always doubting your abilities due to your father's wealth and connections. nanami's also seen all of your breakdowns behind closed doors, the hours of fake smiling at social events, the sleepless nights where you wouldn't be able to sleep unless nanami was holding your hand.

guilt is gnawing at his sides and he chastises himself for not thinking through the consequences of how you'd feel about the change.

"i'm so sorry, angel." he gathers your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. "i didn't think enough about how you'd feel before i changed my dates of annual leave."

"thanks, nanami. but... i mean, you shouldn't have to worry about me anyways." you try and shrug it off, but he interrupts you.

"nonesense. i always worry about you." is his earnest response, and you know you have to deflect with humor to still your irregularly beating heart.

"i get it, i'm difficult." you tease, poking his chest.

his expression remains serious, earnest even.

"difficult isn't the word i'd use to describe you. not even close."

"really? then what is?"

that seems to set something off in him, because he drops your hands, instead opting to maintain eye contact with you as he speaks slowly.

"you're kind. caring. hardworking. you care about the people around you. you're always seeing the best in people, even when they might not deserve it. and you're one of the most incredible people i've ever met in my life."

you blink at him a few times, surprised by the sudden admission.

"and you're so, so..." he cradles your face in his hands, his gaze never wavering from your face. "beautiful."

"oh."

your small reaction awakes something in him, his hands suddenly ripping away from your face as he abruptly stands up - face flushing red and his eyes looking anywhere but you.

"sorry, that was unprofessional." he coughs, straightening his collar in an attempt to stop his hands from shaking. "we should, uh, head back."

"wha- nanami!"

you have to run after him with how quickly he's starting to walk away from you, not even sparing a glance back to see if you're following him as he nearly sprints down the dirt paths.

"nanami, stop."

he slows down, but doesn't stop in his tracks. stubborn bastard.

"stop. that's an order."

he has to stop then, which you know.

jaw clenched and shoulders slightly raised - he turns around obediently, waiting for your response.

he half expects you to let him down. to say that you've appreciated his company and advice over the last five years, but that you don't see him in a romantic light.

or maybe, you'll fire him on the spot in fear of your father's reaction. he can't imagine how your father would react at the news of your top bodyguard professing his attraction to you.

instead, you crash into him, lips connecting first as nanami places his arms around your waist to avoid toppling over. it takes his brain a few seconds to register what is happening, your body warm and soft against his touch, before he's eagerly returning the kiss. you taste like peppermint on his lips, and at this proximity, he can smell how sweet your shampoo is.

when you pull away first, he's still dazed, mind fuzzy with love as he surveys how swollen your lips have become from the kiss. his left hand comes up to cup your cheek again, fingertips brushing against your skin when you smile cheekily.

"who's the unprofessional one now?" you tease, lips hovering a few centimeters away from his.

you mean it as a cute comment, but nanami immediately shifts back into his professional tone, lips pursing in annoyance.

"definitely gojo. honey, he lost you in the middle of his shift!"

a/n: ayyy a short little oneshot whilst i work on pt 2 to my husband!nanami with memory loss fic!!! basically my brain was itching to write and post something today but i need more time on the second part. also, i've been obsessed with the idea of bodyguard!nanami, i just think he'd be so protective and sweet. anyways. wrote this in like 2 hours so sorry if it's bad :(

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

[gurugirl]

Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover | shy dom!harry

*originally posted on Patreon but due to the use of the word daddy it had to be removed*

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: No one would ever know that your shy, quiet boyfriend likes to dominate you in bed every night.

A/N: This is an apology for not having mean king out this week! I've been stressed and busy and while I've got chapter 3 mostly ready I don't want to post til it's 100%. So enjoy this fun little taste of my shy dom!harry in the meantime! xoxo

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning: smut, sub/dom dynamics (Harry's degrading but also gives praise!), daddy kink, size kink (yes always size kink)

. .

When you first met Harry you never imagined the kind of person he was under the quiet shy-guy façade. You had brought your old laptop to him in hopes that he could fix it so you wouldn’t have to buy a new one. His small computer repair shop was highly recommended. And when you saw him, well, he was something out of a dream. Tall with tan skin and light green eyes, a soft smile, dark curls, and he appeared healthy and strong.

Except he was very shy. Quiet. You explained to him the issue with your laptop and he ran a cord up to the desk and plugged it in, typed something on your keyboard, bringing up a strange screen. You watched as he did whatever he was doing and wondered if this guy had ever been laid. You soon learned just how wrong that initial perception was.

“You spend a lot of time here?” You asked in hopes of striking up a conversation.

He scrunched his brows together and looked up at you. “Uh… yeah.” And then he looked back at your screen intently.

But you didn’t stop there. If there was one thing about you it was that you could be kind of relentless. You’d get something out of him one way or another.

And oh boy did you get it. After he told you what he thought he could do to repair your laptop and that he’d have to keep it for a few days you gave him your contact information so he could call you when it was ready. From there… it was kind of a whirlwind after you asked him to hang out a few times.

You knew you could be a bit bossy and direct and so it felt like a really good fit as you got to know him the few weeks after first meeting him. He didn’t seem to mind you making all the plans and telling him what to do and when you introduced him to a couple of friends you ran into at the park one day they also noticed how quiet he was too. He was polite, but he didn’t talk much so you commented to your friends that he was just shy right in front of him and that was the first time you noticed that look from Harry. A sharp glance that made the hairs prick up on your skin. You brushed it off but wondered if he maybe didn’t like you talking about him like that in front of him. Had he been embarrassed by that? You hadn’t said anything mean or untrue but there was something in the way he looked at you that gave you pause.

And that night was the first time you had sex with him. He followed you into your apartment when you expected him to just drop you off like all the other times you'd hung out with him before.

“Oh you’re coming inside?” You grinned at him and he remained quiet as he stalked behind you until you’d opened your door and Harry slammed it closed behind him.

The Harry you knew in public had suddenly been tucked deep down into some hidden pocket and this new brooding man stood before you with dark eyes and a smirk on his face. “Did you have fun bossing me around all day? Talking about me to your friends and laughing?”

You were stunned as he moved in toward you and both of his hands ran up the back of your neck and he titled your head back. “Well? Was that fun for you?”

Swallowing you let out a shocked laugh. “Uh… I mean… I didn’t like mean to hurt your feelings… I just thought…” Of course, you couldn’t find the exact feelings and words at that moment because this was a different man standing over you gripping the back of your neck.

“Can’t spit out your words, little brat? How unusual that you suddenly can’t yammer on. I’m gonna make this easy for you. Now, you do what I say and keep your mouth closed for once. I don’t want to hear you talking back to me anymore tonight.”

And even if you wanted to you wouldn’t have been able to. You were not only stunned into silence but half the time he had his cock down your throat making you gag around him as he praised you for being so quiet for him. You hadn’t expected any of it but you fucking loved it. When he made you pull his pants down and get on your knees the first sight you caught of his dick was something unbelievable. You hadn’t realized he was going to be so immense.

But he was and he taught you a lesson that night. And that was to not judge a book by its cover. Quiet and shy in public but once the doors were closed he was a caveman who liked to dominate and spank you, spit in your mouth, and fuck you until you were nothing but a puddle of mush and silence and serenity.

You were obsessed.

You still kept up your normal daytime appearances. You were the bossy, mouthy, and outgoing girlfriend to everyone who knew you and he was the compliant, quiet, and shy boyfriend. No one had a clue. They all thought you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship. And you did it in front of everyone. You told him what to do and often would order his meals for him and talk over him if he did speak.

But he was the one in charge the moment you two were alone.

And you knew you were in for it that day. You’d gone out with some friends again for lunch and you sat on his lap with your back to him and yapped loudly to your friends about whatever. You ate his sandwich and then laughed when you pretended to realize that he was still there. “Oh god! I almost forgot you were here, you’re so quiet, Harry! You’re like a piece of furniture!” Your girlfriends laughed with you.

You felt him pinch your thigh. And not a nice little teasing pinch. A bruising one that made you jump and you turned to look at him and there it was. That look. You bit your lip and turned back to your friends and continued being a bit of a brat. You knew he’d have something to say about you calling him a piece of furniture. You couldn’t wait to see what he might do.

And it should have come as no surprise to you that when you got to his house, he had you naked and gagged, on your hands and knees while he sat in his chair with his feet on your back like you were a fucking stool for his legs. Payback for the furniture comment.

Drool was falling from your mouth and pooling on his carpet as you tried to stay steady but the longer you stayed in your position the harder it became to not wobble, especially with the way he was shifting his legs around and crossing them over your back and shoulders.

“Pathetic,” he murmured when he saw the puddle of saliva on the floor. “But it sure is nice and quiet like this. Prefer it actually.”

He read in silence for what seemed like forever until you nearly fell over and he pulled you up and dragged you between his legs, keeping you on your knees. “Pull it out and suck.”

So you did. You looked up at him as you undid his pants and he pulled the damp handkerchief from your mouth.

The moment his length was freed from his boxers he had his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down until you were gargling and sputtering around him. You kept your hands over his thighs as he bucked up and sighed.

“Fuck… all this mouth is good for is sucking cock isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t answer. But you'd have said yes if you could've.

The zipper on his jeans was irritating your chin but you’d never complain. Your face was hot and you pulled breath in through your nostrils every time you were allowed to come up for air but he pushed you down over and over again until he was satisfied with how well you’d taken him and then brought you up to look at your face. “Look at what happens to you when Daddy’s cock gets stuffed in your mouth. Just a drooling baby with her eyes all crossed. Acts all tough and bossy all day with me but can barely make a peep when my dick is in her face.”

You moaned and reached for his dick, opening your lips but he wrapped a hand around your throat and pushed you back as he stood, pulling you up with him. “Open.”

You parted your mouth and stuck your tongue out with your head tilted back just before he spit into your mouth and you kept yourself still as he inspected. “Swallow.”

Gulping down his saliva you fluttered your eyes up at him before he pushed you over the arm of his chair with your ass up and began to spank you. You jolted at each strike to your bum but the smile on your face juxtaposed the sting his palm caused your backside.

“You know you can’t get away with being a brat. Daddy’s always gonna win in the end. But you love it don’t you? Love getting put in your place.”

Harry’s cock was still swollen and thick, hanging out of the front of his pants as he groped your plush bottom and spread your cheeks, spitting a glob of saliva over your ass hole and another over your pussy. You were angled just right for him. He loved it when you were draped over his chair like this. Could see your anus and your wet pussy and could do what he wanted with you.

You squirmed your hips gently and then felt the hot skin of his tip pressing into your cunt. The first dip in always stretching tight and achy around him. You let out a pitiful cry and heard him laughing behind you. “This is Daddy’s hole isn’t it?”

He drove into you, filling your insides with inches and inches of length and girth before backing and out plunging in again.

“It’s Daddy’s!” You moaned.

Another gob of spit was dripped over your anus and then you felt him push his thumb inside. “Yes, it is. And this one too, yeah?”

“Yesss…”

His chair creaked as he pounded into your guts and your moans were muffled into the fabric of the chair as he panted in pleasure.

You loved when he stuck a finger or two in your ass while he was fucking you. It kind of held you in place because he didn’t fuck your pussy gently. It helped ground you in a way.

“My bratty girl is so sweet and obedient right now. Just offers her little holes up to me and lets me have my way because she knows she’s been naughty all day. Laughing at me, pretending she didn’t know she was sitting in my lap, eating my food...”

He groaned when he ground in, swiveling his hips in circles and sliding his thumb in, and pulling it back slightly to put more pressure on your anus. Everything was wet. Soaked. And you could hear it with every thrust he made.

Suddenly he pulled his cock out and his fingers were gone and you whined when you felt him leave your body but he didn’t give you much reprieve when you felt his hands grasp your chin and lift your face up to look at him, standing over you with that dark smile.

He slapped his heavy, wet cock into your cheek and puffed out a laugh when he did it on the other side, your arousal getting smeared on your face. “Is this what you love? Daddy’s big cock in your face?”

You gulped. “Yes. Love your cock, Daddy.”

Keeping your eyes on him he smacked his length over your mouth, popping it past your lips before pressing his hands into your cheeks, his thumb on one side and fingers on the other. “Open.”

The moment your wet lips parted he dipped into your mouth, watching the way your jaw went slack and how your lips wrapped around him. He didn’t shove himself in too far, but just enough that it had your eyes watering as you struggled to keep looking up at him.

He cooed at you and as he rocked his hips in and used his free hand to land his palm down on your sore bottom again. Your ass was still up with your hips down over the arm of the chair and you blinked trying to clear your blurry eyes. “Taste that?” Another harsh smack to your bottom.

You moaned around his cock in response.

“That’s mine. Your pussy juice that makes a mess of my cock... Mine. This ass?” He slapped your bum making you jump. “Mine. This throat and this mouth? Mine.”

You gurgled when he pressed in, grazing just the beginning of your tonsils before slipping it back out to the tip. “Everything is mine. So keep that in mind next time you mouth off to me in front of your friends.”

He pulled his cock from your lips and you gasped a breath and watched him as he tilted your neck upward uncomfortably. “Now do you want to come?”

His fingers were still smushed into your cheeks as you let out a feeble yes.

“How bad do you want it?”

He loosened up his grip so you could respond. “Please. So bad, Daddy. So fucking much. I’ll do anything. Every bit of me is yours… You own me…”

He kept his expression unreadable as you continued. “I need you. I want you to make me come. Please, Daddy. You’re everything… I'm begging you, please… I worship the ground you walk on.”

You knew the drill. He expected to hear you grovel for your orgasm. Especially after the kind of display you put on earlier. He listened to you demean yourself and praise him, beg him…

When he released your face he grunted and you felt him behind you again, this time pressing his warm, sturdy chest into your back. “Good girl, Y/n…” He pressed his cock back inside of you, slicing your through to your tummy and spreading you open as he slowly thrust.

“You always learn your lesson don’t you, baby? Need Daddy and his big cock to make it better?”

You nodded and whimpered. The delicious feel of him opening you up and sliding in would never get old.

“I know you need me, baby. Daddy needs you too. Wants to make you happy and give you the whole world… Gonna let me have that orgasm now? Gonna show me what a good girl you’ve been for me?”

He shoved his hand under your hips and found your clit, making you cry out. He knew just what you needed.

Slow strokes of his long dick wetly opened you up, his balls pressing into your skin every time he bottomed out, his deep voice in your ear. “Come for Daddy. Give Daddy your orgasm like a big girl. Come on honey…”

His voice was tight and you knew he was beckoning you to come so he could come too.

“M’gonna come… thank you, Daddy!”

You unraveled around his cock, spasming and moaning, drooling into the seat of the chair as he rolled your clit between his fingers and fucked into you so deep you saw stars. But then you felt his cock pulse and throb and he pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear and he moaned deeply as he pumped into you, relief taking over both of you.

When he pulled out he kissed your shoulder blade and pulled his briefs up his strong legs and walked away from the chair as you watched him with a pounding heart. He put some music on and pulled a book from the shelf before returning to the chair and helped you up so you could sit in his lap and he could read to you.

Your shy, quiet boyfriend was the only one who got you. The only one who understood who you really were. Deep down you were just a soft and submissive girl who wanted someone to spank her, to tell her what to do and how to do it, and then to love her and read her books and tell her she was his best girl. No one else would ever have guessed.

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[bootsukki]

I think this is cute

It all started with a ring. A simple, band of silver wrapped around Tsukishima’s left ring finger. It wasn’t flashy but it looked particularly new.

His coworkers, Kento and Ran, at Sendai City Museum noticed it immediately, especially when he had to take it off to clean pieces or when he needed to wash his hands.

“Did you see it?” one whispered, leaning against the coffee machine.

“Of course I saw it. How could I not?” another one murmured back, eyes moving towards the tall figure of Tsukishima, who was typing something on his computer.

None of them dared to ask. They all knew Tsukishima well enough to understand prying would get them nowhere.

Why was he wearing a ring? He never wore jewelry, so that initial theory was quickly debunked. Family heirloom? Could be, but still, it looked pretty new and he wouldn’t wear it. Then of course, the most obvious: marriage.

But, to who? Not even one of his workmates knew that he was in a relationship!

Their best bet was to observe him in his natural habitat— the museum. Maybe they could catch a glimpse of his lock screen or some text message received from a significant other. But nothing.

Until a group of students came to visit the fossils exhibit. Tsukishima was always the one who prepared and guided the students around the exhibit and gift shop, but today, he was accompanied by his two coworkers, as new fossils had been added.

“And there is the gift shop. We offer replicas of the fossils and several other objects that you may find interesting.” Tsukishima tells the children and their respective teachers. “We have a more specific area with educational resources for class.”

“Thank you so much, Tsukishima-san.” One of the teachers bows, showing him her respect and gratitude. “We’ll have a look.”

Tsukishima’s gaze lingers on something else for a moment and one of his coworkers notices the direction is going to.

“It’s no problem. If you excuse me, I need to grab something.”

The teachers nod and Tsukishima leaves their side, walking towards the front desk of the gift shop. Kento swats Ran’s arm.

“Look!”

“Kei, you forgot your lunch again.”

Their eyes looked at the shopkeeper, the lovely, bubbly (Y/N).

She stood behind the counter, holding a neatly wrapped bento with a look of fondness. The taller man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t forget it… Just to lazy to carry it…”

“Aha, of course…” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, stepping out from behind the counter, leaving the bento behind for a few seconds. Without any doubt nor hesitation, she reached up to fix Tsukishima’s sweater and lanyard. It looked like she had just done that for years—her touch almost familiar.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, a smile playing on her lips as she tapped a finger against his chest. A finger wearing an almost similar ring to Tsukishima’s, adorned with a small diamond.

Kento and Ran barely held back their gasps.

This was it. This was her. The mystery wife, the lovely (Y/N) that hang out with them, went to karaoke and went out for drinks on Fridays. How long had they been together? How on Earth did they not notice?

Hiding behind a postcard display, they started murmuring about possible timelines, shivers running throughout their bodies at the haze of Tsukishima’s golden eyes flicking in their direction.

“I can hear you, you know?”

Kento and Ran scattered instantly, but not before hearing (Y/N)’s laughter and noticing the playful little smile on Tsukishima’s face.

[lucyrose191]

CALM IN THE STORM| H.SPECTER

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Wife!reader

Summary: The entire firm knew how temperamental Harvey Specter was and whenever he was in one of those moods, they knew it was going to be a painful day, until they found the only thing that could calm him down.

Warnings: none.

Suits Master List

Harvey Specter could be described as many things; arrogant, rude, uptight, stone-faced and most certainly hot headed. It wasn’t hard to piss him off but it was certainly difficult to calm him down and once his mood was ruined the entire day was doomed.

It was quite frankly anyone’s worst day whenever Harvey wasn’t in a good mood because they always took the brunt of it and there was no way to fix it.

Or so they thought.

If there was one thing anyone would say about Donna Paulsen, it was that she knew everything, which meant she knew exactly what would calm Harvey Specter down.

His wife.

Y/N Specter wasn’t a lawyer, she was an aerospace engineer which was just as, if not more impressive than being a lawyer and Harvey Specter worshipped the ground she walked on.

After watching Mike Ross leave Harvey’s office with near tears streaming down his face, Donna had enough and picked up the phone.

Y/N’s attention was momentarily drawn away from her computer at the sound of her office phone ringing but continued looking through data as she answered "Y/N Specter speaking."

A sigh of relief was heard through the line before Donna’s voice filtered through. "Y/N! Thank god! I don’t know what the hell is up Harvey’s arse today but he’s nearly made Mike cry three times and it’s only 10 o’clock, can you please come and save us," her husband’s secretary practically begged.

Y/N smiled, leaning back in her chair, work forgotten. This wasn’t the first time she had received a phone call like this and she found it hilarious just how much fear her husband built within people, he was a real softy around her.

Luckily for her, she had a lot of freedom in her role, she had proven herself for many years before that she was now able to come and go from work as she pleased, being fully trusted that no matter how often she was here her work was always done.

"I won’t be long," she said before hanging up, not wasting time in grabbing her things to make her way to her husband’s workplace.

As she walked towards her husbands office, Y/N bit down her laughter as she saw the obvious signs of relief on everyone’s faces as she walked by.

"Y/N you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Donna greeted her as she approached her desk, "He’s miserable in there."

Y/N looked through the glass into her husbands office and found that the redhead was telling the truth, the heavy frustration on her husband’s face was hard to miss.

She gave Donna a smile before making her way into Harvey’s office.

The man sighed heavily hearing his office door open, not looking up from the case file open in front of him. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Y/N smiled, “and does that include me?”

Harvey’s head snapped up at the sweet, smooth tone of his wife’s voice, feeling the tension in his shoulders deflate just from her presence. "Y/N?”

“Hey handsome." She smirked slightly, walking around his desk, he turned in his chair just as she stood in front of him.

He looked up at her in the same way he always did, there was nothing but pure love in those eyes, “What are you doing here?"

Y/N smiled lovingly at him, stepping forward to stand between his legs, wrapping her arms around the back of his head. “You’re scaring your colleagues.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, sitting up to rest his hands on her waist. “They’re ridiculous.”

Y/N hummed, “maybe, but how could I deny the chance to come and see you?”

“Fair point, I can understand the struggle of not seeing my handsome face for a couple hours,” Harvey replied, dead serious, smiling as his wife rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder.

“What’s got you all worked up, darling?” She asked.

Harvey released a deep breath, sparing a glance to the case sitting open on his desk. “I didn’t even want to represent the guy but Jessica knows him, I know him to be a complete prick."

Y/N thought for a moment before inviting herself further into his space, forcing her way into his lap, not that he was complaining, he just tightened his grip around her, leaning back into his chair. “Well, how about I treat you to lunch?” She proposed.

Harvey smiled tiredly. “I’d love that, baby." He replied, earning a bright smile from his wife who leaned forward to press a loving kiss to his lips before standing back up, pulling him up with her,

“Come on then, we’ve kept Ray waiting long enough.”

The smile on Harvey’s face was a stark contrast to the frustration he had been hounding earlier and it was all down the angel in front of him who wouldn’t even allow him to grab his coat, too persistent in dragging him through his office door.

As they made their way out of the building, they paid no attention to the uncomfortable weight that seemed to lift from everyone’s shoulders.

One thing for sure is that the entire firm were relieved for the existence of Y/N Specter.

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[saosinn]

mac just loves to cuddle!! 1.2k wc

nsfw under the cut, amab mac, afab reader!

for this fic, it's up to you whether mac is realized or not! my fics won't always be lore/game mechanic accurate.

mac sat comfortably in your bed, fingers tapping away at the keyboard of their laptop, their lips pursed in concentration. said concentration was broken by the sound of the front door opening downstairs, a smile subconsciously making it's way onto their face. they tore their attention away from the computer screen, listening intently to the quieter sounds, mentally following along with your routine. they heard you set down your keys and slip into your house slippers, the sound of your outside shoes hitting the floor was unmistakable. with the sound of another door closing and opening, mac could tell you had changed into something more comfortable, seemingly wasting no time settling in tonight. next was your trip to grab a drink of water, and your ever awkward conversation with sinclaire.

today though, instead of taking a seat with chairemi and abel for a snack, you immediately made your way upstairs. mac sat their laptop on the nightstand, their gaze now fixed on the door as your footsteps grew closer. there you were, hoodie hanging from your shoulder with a glass of water in your hand. you looked much more exhausted than normal, of course you still looked cute, but mac could tell something else was up. before they could ask what was wrong, you raised a hand to stop them, your dreary head shaking. "'m not in the mood to talk about it right now. later, okay?" your voice was softer than usual, the usual pep was significantly less today. mac nodded, shoulders shrugging as they took in your disheveled appearance.

mac smiled softly when they heard your voice change, willing and ready to be a happy distraction from whatever had you down today. slightly leaning over, they brought the laptop to your lap this time, their chin resting coming up to rest on your shoulder. a warm kiss was planted on your shoulder, mac's arms taking their familiar place around your waist. "nothing much, just doing some research on some new devices that came out recently. actually.." ah, it was time for your favorite radio, listening to mac's computer-y talk. you hummed in response, nodding as you tried to make sense of all their technical words and phrases. after a while though, you began to space out, their voice being the perfect relaxer.

as you made your way to the bed, the more mac could see just how tired you really were. their face scrunched in dissatisfaction, chest aching slightly from seeing you in this state. "oh, babe.. c'mere, sit with me?" they turned themselves slightly to face you, arms open wide, beckoning you to sit in the empty space between their legs. and that you did, after taking the last sip of your water and setting it on the dresser, you crawled into mac's hold. while you nestled into their lap, the flash of a computer screen caught your attention. "oo, what were you looking at?" as the question fell from your lips, that usual chipper tone made it's way back into your cadence.

"hey, speaking of which," mac started again with a gentle pinch to your hip, stifling a chuckle when you jumped slightly in surprise. "i think i have an idea on how to help you relax." you rolled your shoulders, taking a moment to process their words. that nagging pain spread through your upper back again, forcing you to let out a mixture of groan and a sigh. you craned your neck to look at mac, a tired grin on your lips. "what, gonna give me a massage?" and so it begins, the flirty banter that always leaves you both flushed and expecting. mac immediately matched your energy, returning your grin with their eyes slightly lidded. "mm, no, not tonight." they spoke lowly, humming against your skin while a hand made it's way underneath your shirt.

it trailed up your side, palming your right breast before pinching the nipple. the gasp you took in flipped a switch in their brain, thumb and index finger now gently pulling and pinching at the nub. "i'd love to have you ride me, but i can tell we're both too tired for that. how about.." they kissed your neck again, this time much less quick and cute, now the kisses were intimate and lingering. before you could even become embarrassed at mac's vulgarity, you felt something pressing into your back. heat crept up your chest to your face, words dying in the back of your throat before you could even articulate them. mac immediately took notice, rolling your nipple between their fingers as they spoke. "you just take a seat for a bit, yeah?"

swallowing the spit you were about to choke on, you nodded, hand coming up to grip their wrist. reluctantly, they let go of your nipple, giving you a moment to take off your bottoms. while you were doing that, they took this time to get their cock out of their pants. when the hot skin was exposed to the cool night air, mac sucked in a harsh hiss through their teeth, member sensitive and throbbing in their hand. having readied yourself, you straddled their lap, hands on their shoulders to steady yourself. they took this moment to really look at you, to take in every gorgeous feature of your face. the intensity of their stare made your cheeks flush, clearing your throat as you began to speak. "i— er.. i'm gonna sit down now, alright?" mac only nodded in response, their hands coming up to your hips upon instinct.

you lowered yourself a bit quicker than you intended, both of you letting out a moan in response. this position was so intimate, and from how you were sitting, they were so much deeper than normal. it felt like the air had been knocked out of you, never being able to take in enough air as your head fell forward into their shoulder. your hips started to raise slightly, but mac immediately pushed them back down, biting back their own moan in the process. "aht aht, you said you were just gonna take a seat, remember?" the smug air surrounding their voice made you whine, neediness increasing by the second. despite this, you forced yourself to relax around their length, doing everything you could to not focus on the way it twitched and throbbed inside you.

the way they continued their work so easily made you a little frustrated, but then again how were you expected to focus while practically being split open. every attempt to roll your hips, to 'adjust', or to even flex your muscles for stimulation was instantly shut down by mac, clicking their tongue and shaking their head at you. the amount of patience they had was shocking, considering the fact that most of the time they were more desperate than you. a gentle hand rubbed your back, doing it's best to sooth you and maybe offer some form of distraction from the way the head of their cock pressed against your cervix. you tried again to move your hips, with more determination this time, being met with the same result. their hand squeezed the globe of your ass, tutting at you once again as they started to speak. "if you stay still tonight, we can do whatever you want tomorrow."

— 𓈒 ❤︎︎ ࣪ ˖

7/1/25

this is not proof read.

OKAY TRYING A DIFF STYLE OF WRITING FOR THIS ONE. also when i said cockwarming i meant it, not cockwarming to fucking, just pure cockwarming :p sorry for lack of computer puns i didn't know how to fit any in 😅 IF YOU SAW THE MISTAKES I MADE BEFORE I FIXED IT NO YOU DIDN'T.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Perfect II

Alexia Putellas x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You've gotten very stubborn

Alexia sits up on the physio's table, getting her ankle checked out.

Usually, she would be focused on her check up and trying to wheedle the physio with questions about her recovery time and her rehab regime.

This time though, she's watching you toddle around the room with a football that you try to kick determinedly into the little goal set up in the corner.

It's a proper football as well - one of the full sized ones Alexia and Patri were training with earlier and one that Alexia hadn't even realised you'd stolen.

"Y/n, mija," She says softly," Where is your ball?"

The ball you usually use is not this one. This one is much too big for a little toddler like you. Much too big because you can barely even control it, clumsily swinging your leg around as you try to get it towards the little goal in the corner.

"Is my ball!" You insist as you wildly kick again with your Bun-Bun fisted in your grip.

You barely connect with the ball and it goes bouncing off in a direction that you don't want it to go.

"In your bag," The physio murmurs, nodding his head over to where your tiny football sits just poking out of Alexia's bag.

It's small for an adult like Alexia but just big enough for a little girl like you and Alexia forces herself to her feet to go and fetch it.

"Mija, baby," She calls over to you," Why don't you come and play with your ball? It'll be easier."

"Hmm." You shake your head, bringing your toy up to your ear like the rabbit is telling you a big secret. "Bun-Bun say no."

"Well, Mami," Alexia says pointedly," Says yes. I would like you to play with your ball."

"No," You reply, firmly booting the big ball into the wall.

"Y/n, yes."

"Mami, no."

The physio chuckles to himself from his spot by the computer, typing up whatever he's noted about Alexia's ankle. "I don't miss that phase."

Alexia sighs, wiping a hand over her face for a moment before crouching down to your level with the ball. "Are you sure you don't want to play with your ball? It's lonely without you."

You fix Alexia a look that she swears she once saw on Alba's face years ago. "Is just a ball, Mami," You tell her," Doesn't have real feelings."

So, Alexia has to admit that you've got her there but it was worth at least a try.

"It'll be easier for you," She continues," And you can show off all your skills."

"Can do that with big ball." You toddle after the big ball again and finally manage to nudge it into the goal.

"Pick your fights," The physio laughs," They're stubborn at this age. You won't win."

He's right, of course, because Alexia is acutely aware of how stubborn you've gotten.

It's like you've learnt to walk and kind of how to talk and the stubbornness came hand in hand with it all.

It didn't help, of course, that your designated babysitter is Alexia's sister, who seems to delight in teaching you things that drives Alexia up the wall.

Even Eli had laughed about it once, the way you had seemingly picked up a bit of Alba's attitude just by hanging out with her for a few hours every week.

Alexia could only be glad that you seemed to take after her more than you take after Alba though as you stare determinedly at the big ball at your feet, once again rearing your leg bag and booting it across the room.

The force of your kick forces you off balance though and you plop onto the floor.

Alexia stifles a laugh at your look of pure confusion, like you can't understand why you've gone from standing to sitting so suddenly. She moves easily towards you, lifting you up and placing you on your feet again.

"Maybe not as strong," She says fondly, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your hair bow again," Remember, we want to control the ball, not lose possession."

She grabs the big ball, tucking it under her arm before she grabs the goal in one hand and your hand in the other.

She has to shorten her stride to make sure she doesn't leave you behind as you both head out to the pitch.

Technically, Alexia's day of training is over.

She's gone through her paces. She's had her check up with physio. She's gone to the gym. She's done her work on the field.

Her day is done.

You seem to think yours is just beginning and Alexia is all for encouraging you.

She sets your little goal down on the pitch along with your little ball and her big ball.

You reach for the big one but Alexia's quick feet keep it out of your grip.

You huff and she laughs a little.

"I'll show you what to do with my ball," She says," And you can do it with your ball."

"Want your ball!"

"It's my ball," Alexia explains patiently with a soft smile at the disgruntled look on your face," You have your ball. I have mine and we train together. Is that alright? If you do well, maybe we can both train with the team later. But you have to use your ball."

You huff and puff but pick up your ball.

Alexia grins.

"Now, we're going to practice staying on our feet after we shoot."

[batsybat91]

Hairstylist!reader and touch starved!141

Enough. Said.

I'll try my best with this one!! I think I'll go with Price - that boy's got a lotta hair. I just want you to know that I had to google "Captain Price without a hat cod" for this.

"Captain, you need tae get a haircut," Soap scolds. "Yer beard is longer than the 'hawk!"

Price grimaces. "You'll have to kill me, Soap."

"Price, I am beggin' ye," replies Soap, clasping his hands together as if he's praying. "A bloody caveman would look better than you!"

"I don't want to," Price replies, crossing his arms. "I don't need it."

"You do," Ghost says plainly, narrowing his eyes behind the mask. "Even my hair looks better than that, Price."

"I can give ye my lady's number!" Soap offers.

"You go to a fucking hairstylist for that thing on your head?" Ghost scoffs.

"I go for the scalp massage and the flirting." Soap sticks his tongue out at Ghost.

"I'll take the number, if it'll shut you up," Price finally says after a few moments of Soap and Ghost bickering.

Soap enters her number into Price's phone, putting (Hairstylist) at the end of her name. Price tucks his phone away and goes about his day, but he finds himself unable to stop thinking about getting his hair cut. It is getting a little scruffy, and if Soap is willing to spend money on his fuck-ass mohawk for this lady... maybe it's worth it.

So, Price dials here number at the end of the day. He waits three rings until she picks up.

-

You answer your phone with a cheerful, "Hello! How can I help you?"

"My name is John Price. Uh, a friend of mine said he gets his hair cut by you. Do you... do you have anything available tomorrow?" the man on the other end asks.

You open your calender on your computer, nodding thoughtfully at it. "Yes, I have a spot open at 1500 tomorrow. Does that work for you?"

"That works just fine for me," he says, sounding a little strained.

"Awesome! I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Price," you exclaim, marking him down. "Have a good night!"

"You, too. Bye," he almost whispers.

"Buh-bye!" You hang up.

When tomorrow finally rolls around, a tall, burly man walks into your salon at 1500 sharp. You try not to gape at him, really, you do. But behind that thick beard and under that cute hat, you can see what is likely one of the most handsome men you've seen in your whole damn life. He walks up to the front counter, almost sheepish.

"Um, I'm looking for a Ms..." He glances at his phone.

"Are you John Price?" you call. "I'm your stylist today, baby. Come on over, we'll get you all fixed up!"

You sit him in your chair and remove his little hat. You set the hat in his lap, then turn him around in the chair. With a dramatic swoosh, you wrap the cape around his shoulders. "I haven't had my hair cut in a few years," he admits softly.

"That's okay," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. He's shaking a little under your palms, like he's cold. You gently scratch his beard, playing with strands of his hair. "What are we thinking? Something military? Something fluffy? Something handsome?"

"Wh-whatever you think is-is-is best," he stammers.

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have you killin' all the ladies," you say. "Now, lean back. I'm gonna wash your head and your face."

He gives you a worried look. "That's a lot... can we skip the face, please?"

"Sure we can." You nod. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Price leans back with the chair, resting his neck against the curve of the wash bowl. You adjust the water to a warm temperature, wetting his hair with the sink's hose. He's still shaking like a leaf on a tree, and you can see the faint outline of his fists clenching against his jeans.

"Relax, John. I'm not going to hurt you," you say, turning off the sink. You lather your best shampoo between your hands, and you can see him mentally bracing himself.

Gently, you card your fingers through his hair, scrubbing his scalp. You are giving him the special treatment. You know that. He's so skittish about you touching him, and you want him to come back to see you again. "That's nice," he whispers, glancing up at you.

You can't help the grin that crosses your face. "Yeah? Don't get your hair washed very often?"

He shakes his head. "I don't like... it."

You nod sagely. "I caught that. Don't worry. You're in good hands."

"Johnny MacTavish recommended me to you," Price murmurs.

"Johnny?" you laugh. "Bugger. He only gets his hair done to flirt!"

"I should have assumed as much," he grumbles. As you move your hands down to the sides of his head, you notice he leans into your touch. He seems to be enjoying this.

When you finish rinsing his hair off, you gently cup his face. "Can I wash your beard?"

He gives you a frightened look, but a single nod. "Okay."

You scratch his beard, then lather your beard wash between your palms. "If you were Johnny, I'd offer to sit in your lap," you tease.

His eyes dilate. "You... you would?"

"He's a flirt," you hum as you gently massage his face.

"But would you do it?" Price asks hesitantly.

"Sit in your lap?" you chuckle. "Maybe if you took me out on a date first."

"Okay," he whispers.

"Okay?" You raise your brows. "What's that mean?"

"I'll go on a date with you," he groans softly when you massage his temples.

"Let's get this haircut done first, yeah? Then we can talk about dates," you promise. You wrap his face in a steaming hot towel, scrubbing him gently before sitting him up again.

Price watches you work in the mirror, his heart melting with each snip of your scissors. He's never been touched so adoringly before. The haircut seems like it's over before it even started. And he finds himself wanting your magic fingers to touch... other parts of him.

As he examines his fresh cut in the mirror, a thick beard that's trimmed with perfection and a short, yet handsome hairstyle. "Thank you," he whispers. "For being so kind."

"Of course, John," you reply, cupping his face. "Now, you come back any time, okay?"

"About that date?" he says, eyes darting away from your fsce for a second.

"Call me, baby. We'll set something up," you assure him.

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ BREAKUP & MAKEUP, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ tired of hamzah’s lack of interest in your relationship, you attempt to break up with him but you end up doing the complete opposite (request).

| warnings: smut, dirty talk, angst

| taking requests!

you were lying on you and hamzah’s shared bed in your apartment, your lip captured between your teeth as you observed him from afar. he had a lot of work to do through the night, and you figured you might as well hang out with him considering you had nothing better to do.

to be truthful, you and hamzah weren’t on the best terms. you didn’t talk as much as you used to, and the lack of ‘i love you’s’ shared between the both of you was scarce. but, he was busy and at first, you figured things would get back to normal soon.

but they never did.

it had been two months since the two of you genuinely laughed together, and you were starting to get bored. you missed how things were, and you mourned the relationship you once had with him. however, when you brought it up with him, he looked as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

this obliviousness continued the next two times you tried to talk to him, and it was the third time which finally had you making a difficult decision about whether or not you wanted your relationship with him to continue. you had told yourself you’d ask him to talk again soon so you could tell him how you felt, but that was two weeks ago.

you swallowed, and realised it was now or never. you didn’t want to lie around waiting for him to finish work, because you knew you’d be waiting a while and would leave in the morning before he was up. then you’d come over again, and the process would repeat.

you sat up in bed, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. you should have been sad, or nervous, but you weren’t. you knew there was no fixing your relationship now.

‘hamzah?’ you said, your voice soft as you rose off the bed and walked over to him, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him.

‘..mhm?’ he said, his attention clearly not on you as a sigh escaped his lips, his eyes briefly flickering in your direction.

‘can we talk—please?’ you said, looking away for a moment, trying to add an element of seriousness in your voice so he’d listen to you. that didn’t work however, because he didn’t respond to you and made no effort to make it look like he cared about anything you had to say.

‘hamzah, are you even listening to me right now?’ you snapped, your brows furrowing as you scoffed, your lashes fluttering as you blinked rapidly.

‘i’m in the middle of something, y/n.’ he said, his voice stern as he rolled his eyes. that was your last straw. the way he went out of his way to make sure you knew exactly how little he cared about paying attention to you, how much stress it caused him for you to merely open your mouth.

‘i wanna break up.’

his head snapped in your direction, and his eyes were wide. you almost laughed, considering it was the most attention he had given to you in months and it was over you ending your relationship with him. he immediately pushed his chair away from his desk, and stood up in front of you.

‘y/n, are you serious?’ he said, his voice holding an element of disbelief as you scoffed, looking at the floor as your fingers tangled together.

‘yes? hamzah, we’ve barely spoken for months. we don’t say i love you anymore, and whenever we hang out it’s always like this.’ you said, your hand gesturing between the computer and the bed, your eyes slowly meeting his.

he looked desperate, like he had a million words to say, yet couldn’t say them for some reason.

‘baby, please. come on, we can work this out.’ he said, reaching for your hands. he took them in his own, before you sighed and took a step back, your hands slipping from his grasp.

‘no hamzah. i’m done.’ you said quietly, turning around and running a hand through your hair, before making your way over to the bed to grab your phone and some of the other things you had brought with you. you gasped slightly when you felt his hands grab ahold of your hips and spin you around.

‘so that’s it, then? you’re not even gonna give me a chance?’ he said, his voice slightly alarming you. he sounded aggressive, his tone ragged like he was genuinely angered by your actions which were his own fault.

‘you’ve had many fucking chances, hamzah. don’t act like this is out of the blue.’ you hissed, attempting to push him away from you, but he caught both of your hands in a rough grip, the feeling making you wince.

you looked up at him, swallowing as you observed his expression. there was no sadness or desperation, just—anger. pure, undeniable anger.

‘so your really gonna fucking do this then, huh?’ he whispered, his face so close to yours that you were scared to breathe. you tilted your head at him, struggling to find any sympathy.

‘yeah, i’m gonna fucking do this.’ you said, nodding at him as he began replicating your actions, a smirk playing at his lips.

‘yeah?’ he spoke, his tone almost mocking as your breathing became uneven and miscalculated, the proximity you held with him making you feel slightly nervous.

‘yeah—’

before you could get anymore words out, hamzah’s lips were on yours. rough, and passionate. you immediately went to to push him off of you, but that feeling of discomfort melted into something more. it had been months since he’d kissed you like this, and you had missed it.

his lips moved against yours, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist as he guided you over to the bed in the corner of the room. he guided you down until you were sitting on it, before his hands pulled your legs onto it, your lips not parting for a second.

‘fuck, i’m so sorry sweetheart.’ he mumbled against your skin as his lips began to move down to your jaw, pressing weak kisses here and there.

‘i’m so so sorry.’ he whispered again, his hands sliding up your little pyjama top as you whined in response. you thought he was being sweet with you—genuine. but you quickly began to second guess everything when you felt his teeth against your skin.

‘can i make it up to you, baby?’ he said, his head raising from your neck, his eyes locking onto yours as they softened for a moment looking at you— all flustered and ready for him.

‘hm?’ he said, a smile playing at his lips as one of his hands slid onto your clothed thigh, his thumb beginning to stroke slow, encouraging circles on your skin.

‘please.’ you urged out, completely forgetting why you were mad at him in the first place, the look on his face working numbers on you.

‘that’s my girl. so fuckin’ pretty, aren’t you?’ he mumbled, leaning back down to your face, lips pressing a quick kiss on your own before his hands slid down to your sweat pants, his fingers tugging down the waistband.

his eyes remained on yours throughout the whole process, and you found yourself biting your lip to prevent any sounds from coming out of your mouth.

‘this doesn’t fix things.’ you suddenly blurted out as his fingers began toying with the little bow on your panties, his head looking up at you as his eyebrows raised.

‘oh sweetheart, we’ll see how you feel when i’m done with you.’ he said, his voice filled with sincerity as he watched your eager eyes flicker back down to his body positioned between your legs.

your panties were off next, the process slow and agonising. hamzah was quick to get himself out of his own pants too, his breathing heavy as he positioned himself at your entrance.

‘—hamzah.’ you whispered, the anticipation killing you as your head fell back against the pillow.

‘how bad do you need it, baby?’ he said, beginning to guide his tip between your wet folds, a series of moans spilling from your mouth as you reached for something—anything to grip onto.

‘please, hamzah.’ you whimpered, your little noise morphing into something else entirely as he snapped his hips into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. in the first few seconds, you couldn’t even comprehend what had happened, until you felt his cock twitching inside you.

‘oh fuck, you feel— your so fuckin’..’ hamzah breathed, struggling to find the words as his hands landed on your hips, holding you down as he began thrusting into you roughly.

every snap of his hips made you slip more and more out of consciousness, your head falling back against the pillows as you gripped the headboard, his tip hitting that spot inside you only he could reach every single time.

your felt your body shake slightly, your hips squirming due to the pleasure. hamzah was quick to push your body further into the bed to stop your moving, his fingers digging into your skin.

‘stop fucking moving, i know you can take it. take it like a good girl f’me, pretty.’ he huffed, his thrusts beginning to pick up pace as you began letting out loud, unholy noises.

pressure began building in your stomach, and you felt yourself already beginning to let go. hamzah had never fucked you like this, and weren’t sure you’d be able to leave him if he continued putting this much power into your body.

‘hamzah— m’gonna..’ you whimpered, hands gripping his wrists which were still pushing your body into the mattress, your nails digging into his skin.

‘fuck, baby. let go f’me, yeah?’ he whispered, and almost instantly. his words triggered your orgasm. desperate sighs and moans spilled from your mouth as you lost yourself all over his cock, your mind going blank for a second. you screwed your eyes shut as hamzah continued fucking you through it, his movements not faltering for a minute.

you could tell he was close too, because his thrusts became slow and miscalculated, his chest heaving as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, a weak smile playing at his open mouth as his eyes stared into yours.

‘gonna cum so fucking hard, sweetheart.’ he whimpered, quickly removing his cock from your pussy before painting your stomach with his warm release, his head falling back slightly as your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly as more of his cum spilled onto your stomach.

there was a minute of silence before hamzah came back to life, his now thumb gathering some of his release from your stomach before bringing it to your lips, a stupid smirk on his face as he examined your disheveled state.

‘open wide, beautiful.’ he muttered, pushing his thumb into your mouth as you sucked greedily, before swallowing his load without hesitation. your eyes remained on his the whole time, and he stared at you in awe, his pupils completely blown out.

‘fuck—i’m sorry. please don’t go, y/n. i know we can fix this.’ he suddenly blurted out, his voice panicked as you quickly reached for his hands, holding them in your own as you attempted to shush his outburst, your body still positioned under his.

‘hamzah—it’s okay. i won’t leave.’ you sighed, sitting up slightly as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek reassuringly. his eyes practically lit up, and a smile made its way onto his face. maybe what you had wasn’t exactly perfect, but you were willing to give him a chance, especially after that.

[bbokicidal]

Who You Are | SKZ [B.C]

a new mini-series where I list some random head canons about the boys based on facts we know about them/can catch onto from media.

genre: fluff / tiny angst pairing: Bangchan x GN!Reader warnings: none

I just noticed there's some like. random facts/things the boys do/how they behave that aren't really talked about in fics on here so I'm doing a mini-series to fix that.

Chan | Lino | Changbin | Hyune | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Something more commonly known - This man is SUPER into hugs! Affection in general, but HUGS. Even if it's just hanging on you, he's always happy to be hugging you whether it's something casual and he's just holding on for fun - or if it's more intimate or even comforting. He just really, really likes having you in his arms whenever he can.

Please bake for him. Lix doesn't have a lot of free time these days so his baking duties go to you instead - especially when Chan is whining quietly to himself that the cookies he bought from the store are too hard for his liking. Make him soft cookies - the chocolate chip ones that are gooey, fall apart and melt on his tongue. He wants those types of cookies, please.~

His 'I need to be behind everyone so I can see where they're at' habit also goes for you as well. Whether you're with the group or on your own, Chan's always walking either right beside you or behind you. He loves holding your hand and being close to you of course but he almost prefers walking behind you sometimes because he can actually see you without having to turn his head or side eye you like he's judging whatever it is you're doing. He just needs to have you in his eyesight if you're out and about - who knows what could happen.

If you need something fixed - he's your guy! The boys have said before that Chan is a great mechanic when it comes to fixing wiring for electronics, if a TV or computer isn't working, even other household appliances. And when he's done fixing it all up, he'll organize the cords so that they're neat and aren't too tangled. He leaves it looking brand new every time, even if your television is almost 8 years old. (He gives it a little clean while he's there.)

Chan is wildly good at pretending that he isn't sick even if he is. Or, worse off, while he's injured. Sometimes he overdoes it while working out or maybe he just slipped up and dropped a weight or his wrist bent when he was boxing with Minho; Either way, he is too good at hiding the pain he's enduring. The only time he's open about it and vocalizes how much he's hurting is if it's something more severe; And even then you have to convince him to go in to get it looked at.

Man has a really hard time taking compliments. While you might think it's funny - the way he shies away from your words and gets pink in the cheeks - Chan finds it a little too much; Overwhelming, actually. He'll eventually ask you to maybe tone it down with the teasing, the over complimenting, etc - because while he does appreciate it all, it's just overstimulating for him. It makes his mind reel and whirl with thoughts of 'I need to continue being this accomplished because if I don't, I'll let them down.' and nobody likes having those thoughts plaguing their mind 24/7.

^ Instead of direct compliments that are detailed, i.e. "Chan, you looked so good today! Your hair looked incredible and the outfit you picked out was perfect!" - Chan would rather a simple, "You look really nice today." A simple, sweet acknowledgement of the effort he puts into things whether it be his work, outfits, dates, whatever - is plenty enough for him to feel praised and appreciated.

But while we're on the topic, he does get a little bit pouty if you don't acknowledge something he thought he put a lot of effort into. For example; There was a time he had picked out a new shirt just to match the one you wore for a little date-day he had planned for you and when you didn't notice, he got quiet and a pout settled on his lips until you asked him what was wrong.

The good news is, with this situation, Chan is extremely good at communication. He can tell you, without making you feel bad, that he feels a little unappreciated when you don't notice things he does either for you or with you - or even in general.

Chan also just loves feeling needed. He loves it when you seek him out for advice, to vent, or just to talk to. He thrives off of feeling like he is doing a service to people even if he's just sitting there and listening to you babble about something you got into recently and really like.

He is also quite the perfectionist. Not to the point of him needing to plan every little detail down to the T; But he does take everything into account especially if it has to do with his work. But -- this also applies to dates! He's going to plan your date as well as he absolutely can and he's going to do it in a way that almost prevents anything from going wrong.

That being said, he's also very respectful and willing to listen to anything you have to say, ever. Which means he's more than happy to hear you out with your own date ideas; You feed him your little date fantasies and in turn, he'll make them become your reality!

Chan's mood also determines the atmosphere most of the time. When he walks in the room and it's clear he's not having a great day, people tend to understand that it isn't a good time to pick on him or touch him. Most just give him space. You, though; You're one of the only people he'll ease up on if you come close or cuddle up to him. You're like a little exception.

Chan is a huge fan of Dreamcatcher! If he has the opportunity, he wants to go and see them - which is something you overhear while visiting the studio one day. You end up buying him a concert ticket as a birthday present, even though he probably could've gone for free being in the industry and all - but he highly appreciates it and is almost in tears with how much joy he feels when he sees the ticket. He can't help but ball up his fists and wave his hands around in excitement, eyeing the ticket so hard like he's afraid it'll disappear if he blinks or looks away.

Chan has a fascination and heavily enjoys - drones. He owns a few, or - use to - maybe just one now. Either way, he really enjoys getting to control them and watching them whip around when other people are in control instead. The first time he introduces you to his drone, which he has named (comment what you think he would name it), he insists you try to fly it on your own. When you're too nervous and afraid you'll break it, because it IS expensive, he waves off your worries and helps you control it with his hands laid over top of your own.

During a Trivia event held by the boys in Changbin & Hyunjin's apartment, Jeopardy style of course, Changbin asked a question in which contestants (you, Seungmin, & Jisung) had to name what program Chan uses for Producing. You ding the bell before Jisung has a chance - and Seungmin is completely clueless - and to Jisung's dismay, get the answer right. "Cubase!" Chan's eyes widen in surprise at your knowledge and though he isn't sure how you know that, he's flattered for some reason. Meanwhile, Jisung is clutching his hair in his hands and crying, "How do you even know that?!"

During one year for Christmas, Chan found himself being gifted with a brand new bottle of the Kilian "Back to Black" perfume. He instinctively turned to thank Jeongin, who grew confused as to why his Hyung was doting on him, before claiming he didn't gift that to him. Chan sits back deadpan and turns to look at you instead, where you're sitting next to Felix with a giggly grin. Chan knew you liked his cologne - he was well aware, as you were always huffing his scent when the two of you hugged - but he wasn't aware you knew the name of it. Unless you went snooping...

[t-a-a-1]

Counting Stars

Pt.2: The Wait

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After revealing to Optimus that you are carrying his sparkling, he convinces you to stay under the Autobot care. However, after the sudden appearance of an old lover of yours, Optimus faces difficult challenges as he tries to win you back and learn how to prepare to be a father at the same time.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

4K

Counting Stars

Pt.2: The Wait

There is a clear difference between carrying a sparkling and dying. 

You weren’t sure which one you were doing.

Everyone was treating you like you were about to perish. Everyone has always been careful around you. But now they are extremely aware of you. Every step you take, breath, look, smell, nothing was too insignificant. 

“You shouldn’t be carrying that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go there.”

The autobots treated you like a doll. Although the thought sounds amusing, it really wasn’t. 

“I just want to go for a drive. I’ve been inside for two weeks. I need to get out.”

Bulkhead moves his helm from side to side. He was  the third bot you asked about going out. 

“What if we crash and you get hurt?” 

You knew he was making up an excuse to not take you for a drive. Because what kind of Autobot would be such a bad driver?

“I am a human! I need the sun and see pretty things or I’ll get depressed and die!”

“Can you just watch the sun and pretty things on TV?”

Crossing your hands in front of your chest, you huff, showing your clear satisfaction. 

“I am sorry (Y/N) but you are carrying the only sparkling Cybertron has seen since millennials. If you weren’t having our species’s only hope, I would be more lenient.” 

Bulkhead’s voice sounds apologetic. You know that he was telling the truth. Maybe they all missed hanging out with you but couldn’t do much due to current circumstances. 

“I am being serious. I need to go out.” you say looking at the bot. “I’ll seriously die.”

You were exaggerating but you didn’t know until how much you could last without going crazy. 

“Well, maybe we can wait until Optimus is back and hear what he thinks.” Arcee steps in, trying to see if she could alleviate the situation. “You know, so no one wants to get in trouble.”

“Prime isn’t even around.”

A simple talk couldn’t fix everything. Although you and Optimus were in speaking terms, you wouldn’t say that things were the way they used to be. Things were still awkward and tense between the two of you. 

“You need to understand him, he is also going through biological needs not seen eons ago,” Ratchet speaks up while still typing on his large computer. “He is nesting for you and the sparkling, he can’t control it and he is trusting us to keep you safe while he is away.”

“Oh so you care about his biological needs but not about mine? I see how it is.”

“It’s not that, it's just–”

Ratchet turns to look at you. 

“Alright, maybe you are right.”

The medic-bot notices the color of your skin. It’s pale. Not in a natural way but in a sick-manner. Your belly has grown and you look tired. Mentally, you must be going through a lot. The weight of the survival of an entire civilization is on your shoulders and you are yet to know if the sparkling will be born healthy. 

“Only for 30 minutes.”

.

.

.

Optimus was able to satisfy his biological needs only after he found ten dandelions. It was extremely hard to bring them to base since they were delicate and were easy for its tiny petals to crumble. He had found several but would have to go back and look for more since most would lose their petals on the way. 

He also found some pretty rocks. He wasn’t sure which one you would like most so he brought all of them. 

“So you are here to stay with (Y/N) for the rest of the pregnancy?”

His olfactory sensors picked a familiar smell. A human one but it was none of the kids. It was a scent he wasn’t fond of. One he very much wished did not exist. 

“Yes, as a Special Agent, I was assigned this duty. Which I am glad for, I want to spend time with (Y/N) as much as possible.”

Special Agent Alex. Fowler’s Co-worker and your childhood best friend. 

Optimus’ sensors were on alert. All of his instincts warned him. 

“Potential male threat detected. Human male may potentially steal sparkling and partner. Action Required: Keep human male away from mate.”

“May I inquire about your reasoning behind your sudden … presence without invitation?”

He didn’t waste any time as he walked towards the center of the hangar. His tall demeanor did not seem to phase the secret agent. 

“Hey, Prime! Sorry for not announcing it before,” Alex waved knowing that he would get more of a reaction out of Optimus if he pretended that his hostility does not affect him. “But I am just doing my duty. (Y/N) was originally supposed to be transported to a secured area under my watch. But since that didn’t happen, I’ll be staying here.”

“(Y/N) is currently protected by five Autobots at all times. She’s safe here and does not need your guarding.”

“That may be right but (Y/N)’s child is a matter of national security. I can’t let the Autobots have complete control over humanity’s first human-alien hybrid child.”

Optimus closes his servo, fighting the urge to smash the human like a mosquito. 

“My sparkling is no human experiment.”

“I am not saying it was,” Alex looks directly at Optimus’ optics. Unafraid. “What I am saying is that the child would benefit from having all the resources this world can offer. That child, no matter what it may be or look like, would be more human than Cybertronian. It will grow here. Learn our languages, history, traditions and culture.”

Alex smirks, about to deliver the final hit. 

“It’s not like there’s much to learn from Cybertron after all,” he says. “I may raise that child myself.”

Everyone could hear Optimus’ gun engine turn on, about to point directly at the agent. 

Until you showed up. 

“Alex?”

He immediately put away his weapon, pretending that he wasn’t about to harm a certain individual. He couldn’t do it, not after seeing the smile on your face. 

Not after you jumped into his arms, hugging him as he spinned you around. 

“Alert. Action Required: Eliminate threat. Keep human male away from mate. Alert.”

His processor telling him commands wasn’t helping the feelings in his spark. 

“You have always been beautiful but pregnancy suits you so well. It’s going to make my stay here all the more pleasant.”

Alex has always been a flirt.  But you never took it seriously. At least not now. You used to love the compliments during the time of your relationship. Years ago. 

“Are you staying here?”

You ask excitedly, in a desperate need of a friend your age. A human friend who would understand your need to get coffee and see the sunsets. 

“Yes, you won’t have to be lonely anymore,” Alex puts a hand on your head, giving you a soft head pat. An act Optimus was never able to do casually. Putting hands on you without consent in any way did not fit right with him.  “I’ll stay as long as you have me.”

“Yes! You can stay in my room!”

You seem to enjoy the affection. The agent gave you a certain warmness Optimus couldn’t give you and his processor is starting to write codes unfamiliar to him. 

“I am highly against that–”

“Alright, I’ll put my things in there,” Alex’s voice was louder than Optimus’ as he was closer to you. You were too excited to pay attention to the rising anger of the bot. “But tell me, where were you? I was waiting for you and got kinda worried.”

“I’ve been inside here for two weeks and Ratchet took me for a quick drive.”

“For two weeks? That’s not healthy for you and the baby, you need to stay active and get enough sunlight.”

“That’s what I told them but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

Everyone around you noticed your evident happiness that they didn’t mind the comment. You were right, they weren’t taking your needs into consideration. It was even more evident by the sudden change of your mood. 

“Well, from now on I’ll be taking care of you,” Alex moves his hand to caress your cheek. “And I’ll take you on regular drives and trips.”

“Do not touch my sparkmate–”

“Also I brought you a gift!”

He looks down at his backpack as Optimus’ voice subsides. Opening it quickly and showing the content inside it. 

“My favorite chocolate!” you take the pink box from his hands. It was an expensive brand and hard to find. Not available anywhere in the city.  “Thank you! 

Optimus quickly thinks of the things he got you. Dandelions, flowers, rocks. Would you love them just as much? Will you jump in excitement and hug him? Will you see him as fit enough to be your provider, protector and Sparkmate?

“Analysis Complete: Human Male wishes to bond with Sparkmate and steal Sparkling. Activating Sparkmate Protection Codes. Eliminate offering. Keep Sparkmate secluded.”

It’s like he couldn’t control himself. It was fear, confusion and jealousy that overtook his processor. 

Without any announcement, Optimus walks towards you and takes the chocolate box using two of his digits. You watch him with amusement, not understanding his actions. And without any previous warning, he crushes the box. 

The Autobots don’t say a word, flabbergasted at their leader’s actions. 

“I- I am–”

Optimus wanted to apologize but he was so surprised by his own doing that no words left his dermas. 

The room is silent for a few seconds until sobbing is heard coming from you.  Normally, you wouldn’t cry but your hormones have been acting differently, making you more emotionally sensitive.

You run to your room, Alex quickly follows by until the two of you disappear from the hangar. 

“Sparkmate in distress. Advance with caution. In case of Sparkmate rejection, proceed to program Offline codes.” 

Optimus looks at his servo. The pink chocolate box is destroyed. It was a nice gift. Delicate, gentle, genuine. And he destroyed it. All that was left was the result of his own selfish actions. 

.

.

.

He didn’t know how to approach you. Nor knew if he should. His processor was begging him to go talk to you. 

His pedes hang from the cliff as he sees the stars in the sky. Its a view Cybertron was unknown to.  His home planet, with all of its technological advances, unique traditions and indescribable views could never have this kind of beauty. Yet, it can’t compare to the delicacy of your eyes.

Hearing heavy steps walking towards him, he knows it wasn’t you. Most of the time, he couldn’t tell when you were approaching him, your steps were too small to be heard. Either that or he would smell your scent. 

“You know, the right thing to do is apologize, right?”

Arcee was not one to open up easily. That was something she had in common with Optimus. 

“It would be simple if I knew she would want me to,” he responds, seeing the motorcycle sit next to him.

“... Are all male bots this stupid?”

“I believe so.”

There was silence but it wasn’t awkward. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other. Optimus is a great leader but somewhat stupid when it comes to relationships. It is of no surprise, however. Cybertronian and Human relationships are very different. Cybertron culture is more reserved, sometimes even completely political. As a species living for so long, it’s more about companionship. A long lasting friendship. Finding a Sparkmate was completely rare. Something not everyone would get to experience. 

Humans however … Due to their short lifespan, they were more prone to fall in love and out of love rather fast. 

“My processor has been programmed to do things I deemed as primitive for our kind,” he says. “Sometimes I can’t control it.”

“Then just tell her that,” Arceee puts a servo on his shoulder. Physical contact wasn’t common in Cybertron either. But he didn’t mind. “And apologize … a lot.”

.

.

.

You started to overthink. A lot. 

Optimus had feelings for you. Of that you were almost certain. You think ‘almost’ because now you weren’t so sure. 

Optimus would live for many years after you are gone. Maybe one day he will finally find the one, his Sparkmate. Where would that leave your child? He has told you that he will be responsible. But is he doing it out of duty or because he has love for his sparkling? You didn’t want him to believe that he is being forced to stay. 

It was a stupid thought. You knew that. But the thought still lingers in the back of your mind. 

“Prime is gonna kill me whenever he finds out I took you out of the base.”

It's always nice to get out of the base during the night. Especially with someone who saw you as an individual instead of just a ‘carrier and savior of an advanced robot race.’ He also drives nicely, not too fast, not too slow. Alex used to be a mechanic, his love for cars was always evident. Even as he drives, you can tell that this is all he ever wanted to do. 

“You know he won’t even kill a fly.”

“Yeah and that’s why it’s so fun to tease him.”

Alex tried to diminish the tension of the previous situation. He didn’t know why Optimus did what he did. But he feels a bit guilty for teasing Optimus as much. Maybe if he hadn't pushed him to his limits, he wouldn't have done such ugly act. 

“Can we go to the beach?”

You ask randomly. 

Alex smiles.

“Sure.”

.

.

.

When Ratchet informed him that you had gone on a night drive with Alex, he immediately went to your room. 

Why?

It was something even he couldn’t understand.

He knew he wasn’t going to find you there. 

Yet, his processor couldn’t understand how you weren’t here. He needs you. Now. His every circuit aching at the thought of you leaving his side. Carrying his sparkling and with a male who had successfully stolen you from his servos even if it's just for one night. 

He can still smell your scent in your room. Even after he had mass-shifted to enter, the room was still too small for him. He touched the bedsheets and began to miss the moments he has shared with you before in it. 

Where are you?

He needs you now. He needs to hold you, to know that you are safe. To express how much he adores you and the sparkling. 

“Sparkmate Status: Missing. Sparkling Status: Missing. Safety Status: Unknown. If Unable To Locate, Proceed With Solitude Activation Codes.”

He used his Comm-Link to call your cell phone. But nothing. He tried again. Nothing. 

It wasn’t until the 30th time that he understood … You didn’t want to be with him. 

You didn’t want him. 

You didn’t want him.

You didn’t want him. 

His servos tremble. 

Optics feel heavy. It’s strange. Having blue liquid come out of his eyes. He had cried before. For different reasons. This was pain, in its purest form. In a way words can’t describe. Proof of it were his subsided pleas of air as he had forgotten how to breathe, something he didn’t know he could do until he saw you. 

His spark aches. It hurts. Everything. 

Everything …  His everything is gone.

.

.

.

It was about a 10 hour drive.

Watching the sunrise was always a beautiful experience. Feeling the warm sunlight touch your skin energizes you. It made you forget the previous negative emotions and you began to have this strange yearning. 

For Optimus.

You wanted to be with him. Wishing he could  be here with you along with your unborn child. 

Maybe he had over reacted but knowing Optimus he probably has a good reason for destroying the chocolate box. Was he taking care of your weight? What if chocolate is toxic for sparklings? You wanted to talk to him and make things better–

Oh. 

You were right. You do need the sun. 

“Let’s build a sandcastle.”

Alex could sometimes be like a child, which was fun. There was never a boring moment with him.

“Let’s build an Autobot, instead!”

You let yourself touch the sand and immediately feel something moving inside you. It feels strange. It doesn’t hurt but feels very uncanny. Nonetheless, you smile as you put your hands in your belly. Your sparkling may be more human than you think, also enjoying the activity and fresh air. 

“Do you think will look like his father?”

You ask Alex as he tries to make a small square with his hands, using water from a water bottle. 

He looks at you and then down at his little project. 

“If the child were to live on Cybertron then I would prefer for them to look like Optimus,” he says, trying to think of a delicate way to tell you his opinion. “But since they will be living on Earth, then I genuinely hope they look more human.”

You know you will love the child no matter what. But Alex had a point. What kind of life will the child live if he is too different? Humans can be cruel, especially to those who are different. 

“If something happens to me … will you take care of them?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and looks at you again. His mood had been ruined but it was a question you were meaning to ask. 

“You know childbirth is difficult as it is and well, I am assuming giving birth to the first Human-Cybertronian child would be even more so.”

“You know we’ll have the best doctors in the world for that day,” Alex starts to mold more rectangular boxes as he stacks them up. Meanwhile you have started working on the head. “And if anyone can come out alive out of that it's you.”

He makes a pause and a small laugh escapes from his lips. 

“Besides, didn’t you fuck a 20 feet tall alien robot? You did that and came out fine. Childbirth should be a piece of cake.”

Without any notice, Alex’s mouth is filled with sand. You had thrown him a sand-ball and he started spitting it out and washing his mouth with the remaining water. 

“Hey! It's true!”

“Yes but you didn’t have to say it like that!”

“I don’t blame you, if Arcee would give me the chance, I would hit too–”

You throw more sand at him and he also retaliates. A sandy-battle unleashed as the wind was in your favor. Alex was gentle enough to only attack you below or above your belly. His ‘projectiles’ are extremely small compared to yours and between giggles and laughs, the battle continues until both of your hairs and clothes are covered with sand. 

And then, Alex’s phone begins to ring. 

.

.

.

“Where is he?”

The sun is still rising. The groundbridge could not stop time. But the time in California and Nevada were the same. 

You run towards Ratchet who is still by the groundbrige system, Alex close by.

“At the top, he is doing better now that I told him you were returning but …” The autobot medic pauses, not finding the right words to describe the situation. “I think you should go and see for yourself.”

You didn’t hesitate and made your way towards the rooftop. Of course, you didn’t run but you moved as fast as your pregnant body could. 

It was a good workout, you were losing your breath as you made your way to the elevator. If you had been in better shape, you would have taken the stairs. 

As you wait to arrive at the top, you could hear the beats of your heart palpitating against your chest. Overthinking is a talent of yours. Many stupid thoughts crossed your head. Thinking that Optimus was too angry at you for leaving the base without permission. You were ready to accept your punishment, whatever that may be. 

Instead, as you arrive at the top of the cliff, there are more questions than answers. 

You find big rocks, with a weight of more than a ton. Two rocks standing vertically and one on top of the two laying horizontally. Like a small house made out of giant rocks, enough space for a single Cybertronian. One that is around 20 feet tall, blue and red that turns into a truck.

Optimus is there but he is too busy spraying dandelions around his small house that he didn’t notice your presence. 

It wasn’t until he turned around that his optics shine in excitement. He almost runs towards but reminds himself to be gentle. Reaching out a servo, you expected him to hold you but he doesn’t he pulls away, using all of his strength to restrain himself. 

“I am glad to see you are safe.”

He says in a soft voice, the relief in his voice is evident and you feel the need to jump into his servos and be embraced by him. But just like him, you stopped yourself from doing so.

“I am glad you are safe too,” you tilted your body a little, your attention directed to the rocks behind. “Ratchet said you were acting … strange.”

Optimus also takes a look at his creation. He wished he could do better but its the best he could do with his limited resources. 

“Yes, you could say so.”

“May I ask, what is going on?”

He has been meaning to tell you but he doesn't know without getting nervous. He didn’t know how you would react. Will you think of him as weird? Disgusting even? But he can’t run away any longer. You are the sword and he is against a dead end with the only option being moving forward.

“Cybertron hasn’t had a sparkling in milenia so to ensure its safety, my processor activated primal codes,” Optimus says. “It makes me do things that may be antiquated.”

Not understanding fully, but if you had to come to a conclusion, Optimus may be going through something similar to animal mating rituals. Which is not so far fetched since Cybertron used to have Predacons before Cybertronians appeared. 

“Is that why you destroyed my chocolate box?”

“Due that we haven’t concluded the Conjunx Ritus, my processor doesn’t consider you as my Conjunx Endura yet, although I consider you my Sparkmate” Optimus blinks multiple times as he only does when he is nervous. “I identified Special Agent Alex’s actions as threatening to steal you and my sparkling.”

“Me?”

“Yes, although those reasons are more … intimate ones.”

Your heart beats faster as the sunlight reflects on his paint-job. He looks beautiful. You once again remember how incredible and extraordinary of an individual he is. There is no one like him in the entire universe and never will. You feel delighted to know that you are in his presence, being able to admire a side not one has seen yet. 

“Oh,” you look away after realizing you had been staring at him for too long.  “And that?”

You point at the rock structure and Optimus optics quickly follow. 

“After you left, I went to look for you at your private quarters,” he kept looking at the rocks and you wonder the struggles he had to go through to carry them to the top. “Not seeing you there activated my Solitude Codes.”

He walks towards the rocks, there are a lot of dandelions. Some of them died. Others are alive. There is some sort of yearning in his optics as if he belongs there. Its a sorrowful yearning, as if he was made to do something that he wishes to not do. Yet, he knows he would be skillful at it. 

“I felt the need to build this.”

“And do what?”

You ask, not wanting to walk closer as you thought that maybe you would be overstepping his boundaries. 

“Wait,” he answers. 

His back faces you. Not being able to see his faceplate, you can only tell how he feels based on his voice box’s tone. He just stands there, looking down. 

“For what?”

“For you to come back.”

He answers so longingly that it makes you almost shed a tear. For a moment, time stops. There is no wind, no sound, no scent, nothing. But just him. As if your entire world had become just him.  

“... And if I didn’t come back?”

He slowly turns to look at you. A soft smile, of  love. There wasn’t any desire in it. It was pure. Genuine. As he is in love with your soul and wishes to spend eternity with the thought of you. With your existence, whatever that was. To be one until the heavens and the earth collide. 

“I would wait until you do.”

And for a second, the Prime no longer was. But just a spark. In his purest form. His faceplates open, he wants to say something but it's lost in words. He had given up so easily. Realizing that he has yet to find the right words to express his love for you. A love so vast that not even the best poets or writers could ever put into paper. 

If he could go back in time and stop himself from becoming a Prime, he would. Because being an archivist would have made him more eloquent, maybe then, he could describe to you a small fraction of his endless adoration. 

“Prime–”

“Guys!” Alex came out of the elevator, screaming and ruining the moment. “Sorry to interrupt but we have a message coming from Megatron!”

He tilts his head outside the elevator, blue eyes staring at the two of you. Noticing that he interrupted a romantic scenario, he just pointed a finger at the two of you. 

“Prime we need you, please make-out quickly!”

And with that, Alex leaves as soon as he appeared. 

“Well, now that you are here, I won’t be using this,” Optimus walks towards you and bends down on one knee. He is still too tall but you appreciate that he tries to see you faceplate to face. Using a servo, he caresses your hair and your soft skin. With so much adoration and devotion. 

  “I don’t have much time but I realized I haven’t thank you yet for carrying my Sparkling.”

He wants to hold you. Craving it. He wishes he could have time to tell you more. To whisper in your ears sweet things. To read to you the most lovely of poems. To just rot in a bed, indulging in nothing but love. 

But he can’t. Not now. 

“Creating a new life with you has been the greatest honor of my life.” 

He stands up, walks past you. Leaving you at a shock, at a state of awe. 

“Now, let us go,” he says. “Some things can’t wait.”

He'll wait until you call him by his first name again.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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A/N: It was fun to write this. Optimus panicking and not understanding the changes he is going through. I think on this he has accepted that he may not win you back but that won't stop him from loving you and his sparkling. Meanwhile you are falling for him all over again.

I wrote this because y'all liked the concept for Counting Stars and supported it a lot! So thank you everyone so much for the support.

This was a one shot and I continued it because there was lots of love but I don't have a certain story-line. To be honest I don't know how to continue it.

For the next chapter (if there is one) I was thinking that Megatron accidentally sends Reader to the Dark Dimension where Reader meets Nemesis Prime. In this dimension, Optimus loses Reader and his Sparkling, transforming him into an evil being.

Meanwhile in Reader's dimension, Optimus is losing it. Slowly spiraling into madness at the thought of never seeing Reader and his Sparkling again. Destroying everything on sight, the Autobots fight to keep Optimus at bay.

The plot would end with Optimus and Nemesis fighting to see who would keep Reader.

That storyline would take around 2-3 chapters and it would conclude this story.

But that is just a thought, I still don't if I'll continue this since I really need to focus on writing the next chapter for 'The Darkest Hour'

And I am currently working on a oneshot bayverse Optimus fic too so please look forward to it!

Again thank you for reading and sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

See You in the next story!

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https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/771132293279580160/counting-stars?source=share

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https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/776307342250803200/counting-stars?source=share

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: anon request - "Can u make a colby one where him y/n Kat and Sam are live and y/n and Colby are drunk it can be fluff or smut Idc"

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, sexual innuendos, sexual tension between reader and Colby, drunk actions, fluff with a dash of filth containing fingering, handjob, sensual stuff but hottt

Word count: 4.9k | somewhat edited I don’t really know if I like this one all that much… I might rewrite it after I get more requests out.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this." You look at Kat in your mirror as you rummage through your clothes.

She laughs, "Oh come on. There will be alcohol so you can just relax, drink and hang out."

"You had me at alcohol." You laugh and hold your a top, "Hows this?" She tilts her head and purses her lips, "mm. It's cute, but I think you need something different."

"Is that what you're wearing?" You point to her outfit and she nods, "Yes." You hold your hand up, "Hang on."

You walk out to your living room, grabbing a box of clothes that you got sent, "There might be something.." you dump the box, ".. in here."

"Oh yeah. Most definitely." Kat nods with a laugh as she goes through the clothes, "Ooh, this. Definitely this."

Your eyes move over the black, lacey tank top that's in her hands, "A cute skirt or a pair of jeans will make this so much better." She adds and tosses it to you.

You catch it and nod, "I'll try it on."

"Well hurry up, we have to be at Sam and Colby's in the next hour." She lays back, scrolling on her phone as you change.

"Did you say Colby?" You walk out slowly and she smiles up at you, "I did.."

"He's doing this livestream with us?" You fix the tank top so it sits right, "Is this some sort of set up by you and Sam?"

She sits up with a sigh, "You got us." She raises her hands, "I think it'll be fun. Plus we'll be live, so it's not like anything crazy can happen.

You drop your hands and they slam on your thighs, "have you seen your livestreams?"

She holds her hands up, "it wasn't my idea. It was Sam's." You scoff, trying not to laugh, "But you went with it."

"If it makes you feel any better, it'll be just you and me at first. Sam offered for him and Colby to join us once they got back from meeting someone about a place they're going next week. Also. Speaking of. We're going with them."

You groan and turn to look in the mirror, "Fine." You smirk at her in the mirror, "But only because you're going."

"Whatever you say, y/n." She rolls her eyes and laughs, "Now come on. We gotta get going. I tweeted that we'll be on by six and it's almost five thirty."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Ready?" Kat looks over at you and you fix yourself in the screen of the computer, "Okay, yes now I'm ready."

You lean back in your chair and watch as she starts, waiting for people to join, "Hi guys! How are you?"

"Hey!" You smile and hold up your hand, reading the comments that are starting to flow in, "Oh thanks. Kat actually dressed me tonight. So tell her."

You laugh and look over at her. She smiles, "Yeah, I'll take credit for that because you look.." she licks the tip of her finger and lays it on your arm, "Tsss."

You laugh as she makes a sizzling sound, "I do. I do."

"Alright. So Sam and Colby will be joining us a little later, but for right now. I figured y/n and I could start off with a little game."

"Oh god." You mumble and watch as she puts a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses on the stand in front of you two, "Oh no." You laugh and look over at her, "What game do you have planned?"

"Just a little.. do or drink." She smirks, "Nothing bad I promise." She pulls out a small box containing cards and opens it, "Alright. You want to go first?"

You sigh, "You know what? I will." You laugh and pull out a card, "Hmm. Okay." You turn to her in your chair and look up at her, "what is one thing.. you dislike about me?"

"Oh gosh." She blinks as she thinks for a moment, "Honestly, I hate the way that you can just roll out of bed and look good."

You smile and bat the air, "Stop it."

She laughs, "I'm serious. You're just that pretty."

"Well thank you." You laugh slightly and motion towards the box, "Pick your poison."

She reaches up, picking one of the cards, "Ooh my god." She giggles and lays the card over her lips. You lean forward, "Oh no. What is it?"

She smirks, "Send 'can't wait to see you' to the last person you texted or drink."

You pull your phone out, and go to your messages, looking at the threads, "The last person I texted was.." you laugh slightly, "Katrina."

"Who is it?" She wheels herself over and leans around to look at your phone, "Oh. You have to. You freaking have to, y/n."

You bite your lip as you tap on Colby's name, Can't wait to see you.

You lean forward after locking your phone and read the comments on the screen, "Sorry guys. That's a secret." You laugh and lean back, looking up at Kat when your phone goes off.

She motions for you to read it and you can't help but laugh, "They said, are you and Kat playing that stupid drinking game?" You shake your head as you type back, maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm excited to see you.

"Y/n. Damn. You're not even drunk yet." Kat looks at you shocked and you shrug, "Oops." You smile and reach up to pull a card, "Name a couple that you think should break up."

Without any hesitation she pours a shot, "I cant pick just one.." she laughs and takes the shot, instantly chasing it with her water, "Oh gross."

She grabs another card and smirks, "Y/n."

You tilt your head, "Kat."

"Out of.. let's say, me, Sam, and Colby, who is your favorite?" She smirks and you sigh, "I know I'm going to hurt feelings with this one.." you pause and look into the camera then back to Kat, "..pour me a shot."

"Are you not going to answer?" She laughs and you shake your head, "No because it'll hurt their feelings when I say you." You laugh and she throws her head back laughing, "Oh my god. That's great."

You read the comments and see that people are debating on whether it's Colby, even from the previous question.

"Oh god." You groan and take your shot, cringing at the taste, "That's so gross."

She leans in, whispering quietly, "We're you going to say Colby?" You smirk and lean back, looking at her as you nod.

"Ha. I know who her favorite is." She says in a sing song-y tone before she laughs, "It's still me."

You laugh and grab a card, "Katrina. Who was the last person that seen you cry?"

"Like, a sad cry or happy cry?" She asks and you shrug, "Just in general I think." She hums, "Probably... Sam, I think. Or you. I'm with you both so much."

"We might as well just live together at this point." You laugh and she nods, "Honestly. Okay.." she grabs a card and clears her throat, "Have you ever been to a strip club?"

"Like working or visiting?" You try to not smile but fail, "I'm joking you guys. Relax. No I haven't ever been to a strip club."

"I can see it." Kat laughs and you gasp, "Hey." She lays a hand on your knee, "If it makes you feel any better you'd definitely have a big client list, and I know who number one would be." She winks and tries not to laugh so she covers her mouth, "I'm sorry."

You laugh, "oh my god. I need more alcohol for this." You get up, "I'm going to get a white claw, do you-"

"Yes." She cuts you off and points, "Please."

You give her a thumbs up, "I'll be right back." You quickly make your way down the steps and into the kitchen. You open the fridge and grab as many white claws as you can carry.

Colby's voice makes you jump, "Thirsty or something?"

"Goddam it, Colby. I didn't hear you guys come in." You laugh slightly and he walks over, offering to help, "I'm heading up there now, I can take some of these for you."

"Okay." You hand him a couple and look up at him, "Thank you." He smirks, "So.. did you mean to text me earl-"

"I have to get back to Kat." You cut him off, "We can talk about this later." You smirk slightly as you walk away and Colby follows you, "Oh we definitely will be talking about a lot later I can guarantee that."

His words make your cheeks red and warm as you walk into the room Sam and Kat are in, "Out of my chair, Golbach."

You kick it and he spins around, "Excuse me?"

You smirk and hand him a drink, "Now move." He laughs and gets up, moving to sit behind Kat in the beanbag chair. Colby next to him, behind you.

You hand Kat her drink and you both crack one open, cheersing before you each take a sip.

"What the hell. You guys are like.. that was so in sync." Sam shakes his head looking between you and Kat.

You laugh, "That's what happens when you're best friends for this long." Kat tilts her drink towards you, "Correct. Okay. Now where were we?"

"My turn to ask you or one of the boys a question." You smirk as you pick up the card, "Ooh. Colby." You spin your chair towards him, hiding the card so he can't see it, "what's the last thing you googled?"

"Oh snap. Um. Can I look?" He asks pulling his phone out and you nod, "Yes, but you have to show us."

His mouth drops slightly before he sighs, "Fine, I have no shame around you guys anyway." He unlocks his phone and laughs, "oh my god. I totally forgot that I even searched this.." he turns his phone around, showing you and Kat, "I googled if dogs can understand me."

Sam laughs loudly, "Are you serious?" He grabs the phone and starts laughing again, "Oh my god, Colby!"

You and Kat are laughing in your chairs and Colby sighs, "It's a valid question, damn." He reaches up between you and Kat, kinda close to you.

You chew on the inside of your lip as you smell his cologne. It's the same one you got him for Christmas a few months ago.

He moves back and sighs, "Alright. Sam. This one is for you." He turns towards Sam, "What is the most embarrassing things you have ever done?"

Sam sighs, "twerking on that cruise."

You and Kat look at each other and laugh, "Oh my god." You look at Sam, "I forgot about that."

Sam chugs some of his drunk, "Yeah, I haven't." He laughs and leans forward, giving Kat a kiss on the cheek as he reaches for a card.

You glance up at the screen, looking at Colby through the camera, and he smiles at you, looking away, "who's it for?"

Sam laughs slightly, "y/n. What's the dirtiest text you ever sent to someone?"

Colby clears his throat, "Yeah, y/n. What's the dirtiest text you've ever sent to someone." He shrugs as he smirks and you lean up, pouring yourself a shot and taking it.

You wash it down with your drink and sigh, "That's for me to know and no one else to find out."

You grab a card, laughing slightly as you look at Kat, "Katrina. If you had to kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend, who would it be?"

She shrugs and laughs slightly, "That's easy."

Sam leans forward, "Oh is it?"

She looks at Sam, laughing as she points to you, "Y/n."

He raises his eyebrows, "Huh. Not where I thought that was going."

"Prove it. Prove it. Prove it." Colby chants quietly behind you guys and you look at him, "Maybe when I'm a little bit more drunk."

He chuckles, "Mhm."

Kat picks up a card, glancing at Sam before taking a deep breath, "y/n. What's your biggest turn off?"

You suck air between your teeth, "Probably insecurity. Like..for example.." you shift around in your seat, "..if I wanted to wear this out to a bar or something, who ever I'm with shouldn't get mad at me for it you know?"

Kat nods, "Oh hell yeah, girl. Like who ever you're with.." she glances to Colby and smirks, "They should know that you're only looking good for them. Not fight with you about it."

"Exactly. Yes." You can feel the alcohol settling in, along with Kat because you're both super giggly.

You pick up a card and read it. You can tell Colby is staring at you, you can feel it.

So you turn to him with a smile, "Colby."

"Y/n." He smiles and tilts his head as he brings his drink up to his lips.

"This is actually an easy one. Take three shots or quit playing." You watch as he nods, "Give me three shots."

One by one, you pour him shots into your shot glass and hand them to him.

"Still got it." He laughs and points, "Hand me a card please." You reach up, grabbing a card and handing it to him.

He leans back, "Kat. What is the biggest secret you kept from your parents growing up?"

She sighs, "oh no." You lean forward, "Oh Katrina. Do tell." You rest your elbow on your knee, chin in your palm and she sighs, "I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I was to be at my friend Lauren's house but we were at a party in some persons basement.. drinking."

You bat the air, "Oh we've all done that."

"Really? You partied when you weren't supposed to?" Colby laughs, "I don't believe that." You roll your eyes and stand up, "Pause. I have to pee."

Kat laughs, "Enjoy your pee."

"You guys are drunk." Sam says, and you can tell he's moving to your chair.

You go to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, but you can't help but giggle as you think about Colby.

His hand around his drink when it really should be around your neck.

His rings pressing against your skin in all the right ways.

His lips, dragging up and down the skin or your neck.

You bite your lip, laughing slightly as you shake your head, pushing the thoughts out to do your business.

Once you're done, you make your way back to the room and take Sam's spot. You sit down, and they all look at you.

"What?" You ask pointing to your drink. Kat hands it to you and she shakes her head, "Nothing. We were just waiting for you." She laughs and hands you a card.

You read your card to yourself, smirking as you look at Colby, "What is your least favorite thing about me?"

Sam gives a low, "Oooh shit."

"Bold." Kat whispers and you can tell she's secretly cheering you on. She crosses her leg over the other, staring intently between you and Colby, "Well? Colby. Are you going to answer or.."

He smirks and shakes his head, "I'll say it. But I'm not saying it for everyone to hear."

Your heart rate picks up as you perk up, unsure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Where's the fun in that?" Sam groans, "Say it. Say it. Say it."

Colby reaches over, grabbing your arm to pull you over to him. You lean into him naturally and he rests his cheek against yours, whispering as quiet as possible, "The only thing I don't like about you, is the fact that you're not mine."

He slowly leans away, smirking at you as you look at him, "Really?"

He nods, "Yeah, it's real annoying, actually."

You look down as you try not to smile, but you fail so you cover it with taking a sip of your drink.

"What did he say?" Kat leans forward, almost falling off her chair but your laughing distracts everyone until Sam yells, "Colby!" He hands him a card, "your turn, brother."

Colby takes it, nodding as he laughs slightly, "this one is for both of the girls."

You and Kat look at each other, "Oh no."

"The girls must take three shots in a row, or quit playing." Colby tosses the card down and looks between you and Kat.

"Give me the glass." You hold your hand out and Colby gently places it in your hand, he still had it from when he took his three.

Sam pours both, you and Kat's shots and you clink the small glasses each time before taking the shots, laughing as you finish the third.

"They're about to be fucked up." Sam laughs and Colby shakes his head, "Yeah, yeah they are." He looks to you, winking as you lean back in the chair, "Kat, you can go."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

At this point, you all are feeling pretty damn good. If you stood up, you feel like you could fall over, but you had no issue moving closer to Colby.

The drunker you got, the more you wanted to be with  him. Next to him. Anything.

Kat and Sam are talking, reading the comments and laughing together as you and Colby have a quiet conversation behind them.

"Did you mean what you texted me earlier?" He whispers leaning in and you nod, "yeah..yeah. I did actually." You look up at him with a smile, "if I'm be-"

"Y/n!" Kat yells your name and you look over at her, "What?!"

She laughs, "Tell them.. tell them about when we went to the mall and that lady who walked into us."

Your eyes go wide, "Oh my god." You start to laugh, "We were walking out of the one store and this lady ran into us, started bitching that we needed to watch where we were going and not even ten seconds later, fucking walks right into the one sign." You laugh with Kat, "Fucking smacks her face and spills her coffee all over her white dress. Ah. It was hilarious."

Colby stares at you, smiling as he admires how pretty you are when you laugh, "She sounds like she deserved it."

You look at him, leaning over as you nod, "Oh yeah. Totally deserved it."

Colby leans in, whispering in your ear, "You know you're so pretty when you laugh." He leans back and smiles at you.

You roll your eyes and lean over, laying a hand on his knee as you support your weight to put your lips next to his ear, "I'd look even prettier under you."

You were way past feeling bold.

He laughs slightly, taken aback by what you said, "Really?"

He spoke loud enough to catch Sam and Kat's attention and he looks up at them. You look up at them and start laughing, "Oh my god."

"Wanna share with the rest of the class?" Sam laughs and you shake your head, "No not really."

Colby leans over, resting his head on your shoulder, "We're just having our own little convo back here so mind ya biz." He laughs and you laugh, resting a hand on his head as you lean into him more.

Colby moves his head up to kiss your neck and you giggle, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoooaaaa colbyyyyy!" Sam drags out his yell, "Whoa whoa whoa."

Kat's mouth is open, staring as Colby leans up, "Oh stop it. How can you not look at her."

"Colby." You lean over, "You're drunk."

He leans in, close to your face, "So are you."

"So are we." Kat laughs as she leans forward, resting her head on Sam's leg, "This is so much fun though." She sits up, "We should play a game. Just one more game."

"Ooh, I'm down for another game." You bite your lip and nod, "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Most likely? The person that everyone votes. Drinks." Kat smirks, "Please."

"Only because you're so pretty." Sam reaches over squeezing her chin and she smiles, "Alright. Sam you start."

He chuckles, "Alright.. uhh.. let's see.." he snaps, "who's most likely to accidentally find a portal to another dimension?"

Instantly everyone points to Sam, laughing.

"Wh- oh come on." He groans, "Why me?"

"Because you're always going off on your own when we're doing investigations, Sam." Colby laughs and Sam sighs, taking the shot from Kat, "I walked into that one."

"Yeah, just like you will a portal." You mumble and fall over onto Colby's lap as you laugh.

Sam glares at you and Kat pats his leg, "She said what we're all thinking." She sighs, "Okay. I'll go." She leans back in her chair, "Who's most likely to get a random tattoo on a night out?"

Colby points to you while the rest of you point to him and he scoffs, "What the hell?"

"I honestly think I would, so I'll take a shot with you." You smile and take the glass, holding it up for Kat to pour you and Colby a shot.

He smiles, "Aw how sweet of you."

"You have no idea." You mumble as you cheers him, taking the shot like nothing, "Alright. I'll go." You set your glass down, biting your lip as you think.

You laugh slightly as you sigh, "Who's most likely to have handcuffs in the bedroom." You raise your eyebrows and smirk, "one.. two.. three."

You and Sam point to Colby and Kat and Colby point to Sam.

Sam and Colby look at each other and start laughing. Kat turns to you, "They have matching ones." You look at Colby, "Do you?"

He shrugs, "Maybe." His eyes move to you as his bottom lip pulls between his teeth. You raise an eyebrow, "Mm."

Colby leans back, "Who's most likely to lose their clothes on a night out?" His eyes move to you and everyone is pointing to you.

"Huh!? Why me?" You point to yourself, "I don't lo-"

"Yes you do. Last weekend you lost your coat and one of your shoes." Kat laughs, "I'm not judging but it would be you."

You laugh, "Okay. Okay. That- it was a coat and a shoe." You argue, "But fine. I'll take it."

"When you lose it here at least you'll know where to find it." Sam mumbles and you about spit out your shot, "Shut it, Golbach."

He laughs and shrugs, nodding to Colby, "I'm just saying."

Kat looks at the screen and taps Sam, "They want to know what you said."

"No." You say quickly, "It's fine." You laugh and rest your head back, "who's most likely to have a new ghost up their ass each week." You lift your head and look at Sam, "Hmm?"

"That is so.. that's so not true." He huffs, trying not to laugh. You tilt your head, "Oh yeah? Then why does everyone you do an investigation with say you're the one they'll go for?"

"You know what?" Sam sets his drink down on the desk and turns, staring at you while Colby and Kat are dying with laughter over you and Sam arguing, "Who's most likely to.." he pauses, trying to think of something, but just sighs, "I got nothing."

"Ha! Suck it." You laugh and sigh, "I need to lay down. Those shots are kicking my ass." You stand up, holding onto the back of Kat's chair, "Goodnight party people, y/n is tapping out."

"Night!" Kat yells before yawning, "Yeah I might.. I might be done too."

You walk out, hoping Colby follows you, but you can still hear him talking to Sam and Kat.

You bite your lip, making your way into his room, shutting the door quickly behind you. You turn, eyes scanning over his room as you walk over to his bed, unbuttoning your jeans.

You walk over to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and walking over to the bed. You toss it down, stripping down to just your panties before sliding his shirt over your head.

You move the blankets, sitting down and swinging your legs onto the bed before covering up. You move around, getting comfy before you take a selfie and send it to Colby.

You lay your phone down, turning away from the door as you hear footsteps coming closer. His door opens quietly and you bite your lip, not moving.

You feel the bed dip down next to you and you feel a hand lay on your waist, "Whatcha doin' in here, pretty girl?"

You slowly roll over onto your back, "Your bed is comfier than the one in the guest room."

"Is that so?" He brushes hair from your face, "You can sleep here anytime you want."

"I plan on it." You smile as you giggle and he tilts his head, "Yeah?"

You nod, "Oh yeah." You lay a hand on his, slowly dragging it up and down his arm, "So you really weren't the last person I texted.."

He furrows his brows, "Huh?"

"Kat was the last person I texted, but I wanted to text you so I just said you were." You look up at him and he smirks, "you're so pretty."

His thumb brushes against your cheek, "What made you change your mind?"

You let out a sigh, "I'm happy when I think about you. When I'm with you. Talking about you." You shrug, "You make me happy. I was just too stu-"

He cuts you off with his lips on yours.

He leans back slightly, "You're not stupid."

You laugh slightly, "If I wasn't we would have been to-"

"Don't. You had your reasons and now we're here." He turns your head to look at him, "Drunk in my bed.." he kisses your cheek, "Speaking those sober thoughts."

You laugh slightly, laying a hand on his cheek, "Mhm."

He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just come pick you up and bring you to my bed."

You bite your lip, "really?"

"Not even for sex or anything.. I mean, yeah.." he laughs slightly, "I've thought about you in so many ways, but mainly just to be with you. Holding you." His hand slides down your body, slipping under the covers, "Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't." You say quickly and spread your legs, "Please don't."

He leans in, kissing down your neck, "Tell me what you want, babe."

"You." You whisper and look up at him, "I want you."

He slips his hand into the band of your panties, "I've dreamed of hearing those words."

You whimper slightly as his fingers press down to your clit, "Colby.." you moan quietly as he draws small circles.

"You're all I think about." He gently bites down on your jaw, "I swear, you've taken over my life but in the best way."

You turn your head, crashing your lips onto his, making out slow as he slowly slides his fingers down, dipping them inside of you

You dig your nails into his arm, arching your back as you pull yourself closer to him. You slip your hand down and slip them into his sweats.

He groans lowly as you stroke him, “That feel good?” His voice is low against your lips, “Tell me.”

“So, so good, Colby.” You squeeze his fingers, whimpering as you feel yourself growing closer to the edge, “Fuck..”

“Your sounds are so beautiful.” He leans back, moaning as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, watching as your face scrunches and your eyes flutter shut.

“I-I need you..” you whimper, squeezing your hand around his cock, “Please.”

“Let’s just take it slow, babe. We’ll get to that.” He kisses your lips, “I promise.”

You nod, tilting your head back as you moan, “Fuck, fuck.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.” Colby rests his forehead against your temple, “You’re so close.”

You turn your head, looking over at him. He presses his lips to yours, moaning against them as you continue to slowly stroke his cock, “C-Colby.”

“All about you baby. I’m okay.” He speeds the thrusts of his fingers up, watching as you squirm under him, “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it.”

His words egged you to cum more, “Fuck.” You whimper and the knot that’s been working in your belly snaps.

You gasp, arching your back as your thighs squeeze his arm, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s it.” Colby whispers as he peppers your face with kisses, slowly pulling his fingers out.

He brings them up to his lips, licking them off with a groan while you watch in awe. He reaches down, slipping your hand from his sweats and lays next to you, pulling you into him.

Your body fit perfectly into his, like you were made for him.

“I just want to lay with you.” He whispers as he twirls your hair, “We can get to that other stuff later.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You’re just glad you’re there.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Hi hello sorry for the late update. I’ve been super sick lately. I hope you enjoy this!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[les4elliewilliams]

Ellie is away｡｡｡ ⸝⸝⸝ e.williams

Alternative Chapter 5 – 2006, Senior year college

⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n ﹕it’s been over a year and honestly, most of you probably forgot this alternative chapter even existed or were convinced it was never coming out. yeah… super late, i know, but hey... better late than never, right? :3 i tagged all the people i felt i owed an apology to, both for the heartbreak i caused and for the ridiculous delay. yup, i suck. i know. but at least we finally have the happy ending now??

⊹ ࣪ ˖ wc/cw｡｡｡﹕2k approx. suggestive content?, happy ending! MDNI.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary｡｡｡﹕A time before Skype and Facebook. Windows XP just came out, and Windows Messenger was the thing. You finally got a computer just to chat with your friends.

➙ part one, two, three, four, sad ending ˎˊ˗

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: hi baby ynshere: how was class?

brickmaster: alright i guess brickmaster: boring without Riley brickmaster: i think she's hungover

ynshere: again? ynshere: i don't get why you keep hanging out with her

brickmaster: ahhh shit…here we go again

ynshere: no i'm being fucking serious Ellie

brickmaster: please. i had a really long day

brickmaster: i don't wanna argue

ynshere: see, that's the problem

ynshere: you never wanna talk about things

ynshere: and every time we talk it's "Riley this, Riley that" ynshere: i feel like an afterthought

brickmaster: that's not fair

ynshere: you're right. it's not fair to me

ynshere: you cancel on me

ynshere: you barely even call anymore ynshere: and when we do hang out, you're distracted or talking about her

brickmaster: you're making this way bigger than it is

ynshere: i'm making it big because it hurts ynshere: and i'm starting to feel like maybe you don't want this anymore

brickmaster: don't start with that shit brickmaster: not tonight

ynshere: then when?

brickmaster: i don't know brickmaster: fuck it brickmaster: i'm logging off

ynshere is typing…

brickmaster is away.

ynshere: wait whatever.

brickmaster has signed in

brickmaster: hey brickmaster: can we talk?

ynshere: you logged off on me last night.

brickmaster: i know brickmaster: i'm sorry brickmaster: i was being a dick

ynshere: oh but what's new?

brickmaster: i just didn't know what to say without blowing up

ynshere: and you think leaving me hanging was better?

brickmaster: no brickmaster: it wasn't brickmaster: i panicked brickmaster: i hate fighting with you

ynshere: then listen to me, Ellie ynshere: that's all i've ever wanted ynshere: not a perfect version of you ynshere: i just want you to listen and care about how i feel

brickmaster: i do care brickmaster: you know i care

ynshere: then why do i feel like i'm yelling into a void every time i bring her up?

brickmaster: because you're always on my ass about Riley brickmaster: and it feels like you don't trust me to make my own decisions brickmaster: i know she's no saint brickmaster: but she's been good to me brickmaster: when i was alone

brickmaster: when shit got bad and you weren't around

ynshere: wow. that's not fair ynshere: you knew i was always a phone call away ynshere: i would've dropped everything just to come see you ynshere: but you didn't ask, didn't talk to me ynshere: you just let us drift

brickmaster: i didn't mean to brickmaster: i was just trying to survive

brickmaster: you know i had such a hard time making friends

brickmaster: and now that i do have friends, you hate it.

ynshere: god it's not even about that. it's about how you make me feel.

ynshere: i feel like i'm waiting for my turn to matter again

brickmaster: you do matter brickmaster: i'm just brickmaster: i don't know how to balance it all

brickmaster: i didn't expect you to be mad all the time

ynshere: i'm not mad. i'm hurt.

brickmaster: i'm sorry, okay? brickmaster: i know that doesn't fix it brickmaster: but i'll try harder brickmaster: i promise brickmaster: i'll do better brickmaster: please just… don't give up on me

ynshere: you're asking me to ignore everything i've been feeling ynshere: and just hope it'll get better on its own

brickmaster: i'm asking you to believe me when i say it will brickmaster: i'm still me brickmaster: maybe a messier version brickmaster: but still yours brickmaster: if you'll have me

ynshere: you know i'd never give up on you ynshere: but i'm tired, El

brickmaster: you're more than i deserve brickmaster: i love you

brickmaster: i'll do better brickmaster: please just give me some time to fix it

ynshere: okay ynshere: but don't take too long ynshere: cause i'm here now but i can't promise i'll always be

brickmaster: i know brickmaster: and i'm sorry

brickmaster: i love you. so much.

ynshere: i love you too ynshere: please don't make me regret it

brickmaster: i won't. brickmaster: i swear

ynshere is away.

brickmaster is typing…

brickmaster: can i still come see you this friday?

brickmaster: welp. guess i deserved it

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: hi ynshere: how was your day?

brickmaster: hey pretty brickmaster: ehh, kinda shit tbh

ynshere: oh no :( ynshere: what happened?

brickmaster: idk brickmaster: everything just felt…off brickmaster: class sucked brickmaster: people were weird brickmaster: Riley and i argued

ynshere: wait, seriously? ynshere: you two never fight

brickmaster: yeah well brickmaster: she was being pushy about something

ynshere: what'd she do?

brickmaster: nothing brickmaster: it was dumb, but still

ynshere: oh Ellie…

brickmaster: i told her to stop and she got all defensive and stormed off brickmaster: and now people are staring at me like i killed someone

ynshere: they've been staring at you?

brickmaster: for days now brickmaster: today was just worse brickmaster: like they know something i don't brickmaster: and it's driving me insane

ynshere: do you think Riley spread rumors around?

brickmaster: she swore she didn't brickmaster: but i don't know what to think brickmaster: i'm starting to feel crazy brickmaster: like i don't know who to trust

ynshere: you can always trust me ynshere: you know that, right?

brickmaster: yeah brickmaster: i know brickmaster: sorry i've been a dick lately. you don't deserve it

ynshere: it's okay ynshere: just don't shut me out, El ynshere: i'm here. i wanna help

brickmaster: you always do brickmaster: maybe too much

ynshere: hey.

brickmaster: no i mean brickmaster: in a good way brickmaster: i don't deserve how patient you are with me

ynshere: yeah well, takes years of practice :p

brickmaster: lol shut up

brickmaster: but really, i'm starting to think you've been right all along

ynshere: now that is some paranormal shit i'm witnessing

ynshere: it's genuinely concerning.

ynshere: WHERES MY GIRLFRIEND AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER??

brickmaster: only you can make me smile in a moment like this

ynshere: :) 

ynshere: want me to stay on the phone with you for a bit?

brickmaster: please.

ynshere: yay we get to talk shit about your friends

brickmaster: sooo exciting 

brickmaster: just promise not to say "i told you so"

ynshere: no promises <3

brickmaster is typing…

ynshere: c'mon hurry up. call me

ynshere is away.

brickmaster: i love you.

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: HAII BABYYY ynshere: how are you feelinggg?

brickmaster: hey brickmaster: i need to tell you something brickmaster: god, i don't even know how to start

ynshere: uh oh i don't like the sound of that ynshere: i'm listening ynshere: take your time

brickmaster: remember when i told you Riley and i fought?

ynshere: yeah

brickmaster: i lied about what it was really about brickmaster: i didn't want to tell you brickmaster: i was scared you wouldn't believe me

ynshere: El ynshere: just say it. whatever it is, it's okay

brickmaster: she tried to kiss me

ynshere: …what?

brickmaster: we were in her room brickmaster: just hanging out brickmaster: and she leaned in brickmaster: i swear i pulled back right away and told her to stop brickmaster: and she got all weird and quiet

ynshere: holy shit

brickmaster: then i left brickmaster: and the next day people started acting different brickmaster: whispering brickmaster: staring brickmaster: someone called me a dyke in the hallway yesterday

ynshere: what the fuck.

brickmaster: turns out she's been telling people i got all clingy and weird when she "turned me down" brickmaster: like i'm some creep who couldn't take rejection

brickmaster: i fucking hate this school so much

brickmaster: it's like the Cat thing all over again

ynshere: i'm so fucking sorry

brickmaster: i should've listened to you brickmaster: i defended her brickmaster: over and over brickmaster: even when you were right

ynshere: this isn't your fault ynshere: she's punishing you for setting a boundary

brickmaster: she was my friend brickmaster: and now half the school thinks i'm a predator brickmaster: and the other half just…avoids me brickmaster: like i'm contagious

ynshere: i hate this ynshere: i hate her ynshere: and i hate that you're going through this alone

brickmaster: i'm not alone brickmaster: i have you, right? brickmaster: if you still want me

ynshere: of course i want you, dumbass :( ynshere: you're my girlfriend ynshere: and i believe you ynshere: not her ynshere: i just wish you'd told me as soon it happened

brickmaster: i wanted to tell you sooner brickmaster: but i was scared you'd look at me different brickmaster: that you wouldn't trust me

brickmaster: i don't want her

brickmaster: i'm not into her

brickmaster: god i never even wanna see her again

ynshere: baby :( i wish i could do something

ynshere: i feel so useless

brickmaster: you're doing enough.

brickmaster: i'm gonna try to report her brickmaster: i don't know if that'll do anything…but i can't stay quiet anymore

ynshere: i'll help you ynshere: whatever you need ynshere: even if it's just to sit with you on call while you cry

brickmaster: you're too good to me. you're genuinely amazing

brickmaster: i don't know what i'd do without you. seriously.

ynshere: now you are starting to sound a bit miserable, Williams. 

brickmaster: god you're so annoying

ynshere: yet, who do you go whining to, hm?

brickmaster: don't let that get to your head alright

brickmaster: i love you so much

ynshere: i love you more ynshere: always

brickmaster: i think i wanna come visit brickmaster: like soon brickmaster: tomorrow perhaps?

brickmaster: please tell me you're not busy

ynshere: never busy for you. i'll be here ynshere: bring your favorite movie ynshere: and your smellie ass, of course

brickmaster: crying now, thanks

ynshere: bullied you too hard?

brickmaster: yeah, i'm getting soft, i hate it

ynshere: old you would've gotten off to it. drastic character development, to be honest.

brickmaster: i hate your guts.

ynshere: ...but i gotta say, i love it when you don't emotionally barricade yourself :))

brickmaster: i need cuddles so fucking bad

brickmaster is typing...

ynshere: tomorrow, my love <3 ynshere: i'll wait for you, okay?

brickmaster: and to make out for like 5 hours straight

ynshere: oh alright. you ruined it.

brickmaster: what can i say? doctor's orders.

ynshere: freaky ass doctor

ynshere: let's get off here

brickmaster: yes please brickmaster: i want your voice in my ears and your name in my mouth

ynshere: okay horny poet calm down ynshere: call me

brickmaster: calling in 3 brickmaster: 2 brickmaster: 1

ynshere is away.

brickmaster is away.

dinathedrummer has signed in

ynshere: DEEEEEEEEE ynshere: OOOOMYGAAWDDD HI

dinathedrummer: HI BABYGIRL dinathedrummer: i literally was just about to message you

ynshere: SAME BRAIN ynshere: you'll never guess what

dinathedrummer: what whattwhat dinathedrummer: TELL ME

ynshere: I MOVED IN WITH ELLIE ynshere: AHHHHHHHHH ynshere: LIKE OFFICIALLY ynshere: WE HAVE A WHOLE ASS HOUSE ynshere: AND A PUPPY

dinathedrummer: SCREAMING dinathedrummer: A PUPPY??????? dinathedrummer: WHAT KIND WHAT NAME WHAT COLOR

ynshere: A GOLDEN RETRIEVER ynshere: HIS NAME IS NUGGET ynshere: HE'S STUPID AND PERFECT

dinathedrummer: I AM THROWING MYSELF OUT A WINDOW dinathedrummer: WHEN CAN I COME SEE HIM dinathedrummer: AND YOU dinathedrummer: AND THE LOSER

ynshere: as soon as possible :)) ynshere: bring Jesse too ynshere: i wanna show you guys everything ynshere: pls pls pls come visit

dinathedrummer: OK BUT WAIT WAIT WAIT dinathedrummer: BEFORE I SAY YES dinathedrummer: i have to tell you something

ynshere: oh god what ynshere: are you breaking up with me

dinathedrummer: I'M PREGNANT

ynshere: !?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?! ynshere: SHUT THE FUCK UP ynshere: YOURE LY^JING

dinathedrummer: NO I AM NOT dinathedrummer: YOU ARE TALKING TO A PREGNANT AND ENGAGED WOMAN RIGHT NOW

ynshere: HOLY SHIT ynshere: I NEED TO SIT DOWN ynshere: WAIT I AM ALREADY SITTING

dinathedrummer: I KNOW IM FREAKING OUT dinathedrummer: JESSE IS FREAKING OUT dinathedrummer: WERE BOTH FREAKING OUT

ynshere: IM FREAKING OUT

ynshere: YOURE HAVING A BABY WTF ynshere: i feel like we're still kids :')

dinathedrummer: i know right ynshere: still not an excuse not to visit though.

ynshere: i will carry you if i have to ynshere: we will roll you through the door on a giant beanbag ynshere: nugget will love you

dinathedrummer: okay, but no Ellie near the baby

ynshere: the baby is still inside you.

dinathedrummer: details.

ynshere: fair enough though ynshere: i'm texting ellie now ynshere: and i am cleaning the house because i want you to think we're cool adults

dinathedrummer: babe be serious... you live with Ellie Williams. dinathedrummer: no one thinks you're cool

ynshere: rude

dinathedrummer: truth dinathedrummer: i love you tho

ynshere: love you too ynshere: i'm so happy for you ynshere: you're gonna be an amazing mom ynshere: and Jesse will be like ynshere: the weird dad who tries to make up raps for bedtime

dinathedrummer: 10000%/^ dinathedrummer: omg i gotta go Jesse is literally eating cereal out of a pot right now i have to stop this man

ynshere: please make sure your baby never hits its head

dinathedrummer: i really hope he doesn't get the Jesse gene

ynshere: HE????

dinathedrummer: gut feeling

dinathedrummer: i'll call you later!!

dinathedrummer is away.

ynshere: you better ynshere is away.

brickmaster has signed in ynshere has signed in

brickmaster: no fucking way

ynshere: LMAO ynshere: AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME???

brickmaster: did your fingers just magically remember the password too?

ynshere: i call it witchcraft ynshere: or maybe the gay nostalgia was too strong to resist

brickmaster: honestly brickmaster: it's been what? six years?

ynshere: five ynshere: don't age us like that

brickmaster: oh i'm not the one aging us, adulthood is.

brickmaster: i'm literally sitting in a break room with a vending machine that ate my dollar

ynshere: i'm in a supply closet with my laptop on a box of printer paper ynshere: we're living the dream, babe

ynshere: god. remember when this was the only way we talked for like… years?

brickmaster: yeah brickmaster: and i constantly kept logging off mid convo like a coward

ynshere: growth <3 …even if you still sulk in the kitchen now when you're upset ynshere: but look at you now ynshere: emotionally available and in real pants!!

brickmaster: these are khakis and i want to die

ynshere: i warned you about office jobs ynshere: now you're just another girl in a polo

brickmaster: ..girl in a polo that says howdy

brickmaster: get it right

ynshere: sigh... i know ynshere: you're lucky i stuck around after your "howdy" phase

brickmaster: you just started saying it back

ynshere: loyalty

brickmaster: love

ynshere: same thing tbh

brickmaster: hey

ynshere: heyyheyh

brickmaster: thanks for not giving up on me back then brickmaster: seriously

ynshere: thanks for growing up with me ynshere: and for making it here ynshere: with me

brickmaster: you ever think about what would've happened if we didn't work out? brickmaster: if we never talked it out that night?

ynshere: sometimes ynshere: and then i look over and see your hoodie on the floor ynshere: and your nerdy cereal bowls in the sink ynshere: and i remember ynshere: we're good ynshere: we made it :) 

brickmaster: we really did huh

ynshere: yeah ynshere: when are you coming home btw

brickmaster: uhh getting off earlier today, actually. forgot to tell you

ynshere: oh cool. what's the occasion?

brickmaster: i wanna fuck my fiancee's brains out?

ynshere: alright. too bold. ynshere: log off

brickmaster: thought you were into it last night?

ynshere: i was just shocked cause you proposed midfuck

brickmaster: yeah, after you were moaning like a pornstar. don't twist it

ynshere: pfft, i was faking it

brickmaster: nah. your pussy was literally convulsing around my fingers

ynshere: guess i've gotten real good at acting, huh?

brickmaster: okay, no oat milk for you then

ynshere: and no cookie for you tonight

brickmaster: you're actually a monster

ynshere: mhm a cookie monster. see you later baby?

brickmaster: always

ynshere: oh, and grab oat milk on your way home, we're out

brickmaster is typing…

ynshere is away.

brickmaster: ask your dad

brickmaster: …coward

brickmaster is away.

taglist: smelliewilliams onlinelesbo itsbecomeblue macaroni676 tearouthearts diddiqueen liasxeatt seraphicsentences 4ftergloww @benthoee liasxeatt satellitespinner tphmnv kaiilectric bready101 mikellie angelsglitch coeurcanelle iadorefineshyt ravyaryn xfairyari ellamaexxxx nats-revival shxvers tiaradoll

[pathologicalreid]

pyrophoric | s.r.

in which Spencer seeks the help of a chemist to help with his research into white phosphorous

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemical warfare, WWI, willie pete = white phosphorous, spencer and chemist!reader's first meeting, i love them so hard, in 10x16 "derek" the show tells you to use copper sulfate but that's literally wrong don't do that, flirtiiiingggg, spencer reid is sooooo sexy in a lab coat word count: 2.65k a/n: the idea for this fic was sitting in my brain and then it turned out the information in the show is literally wrong so i had to cancel spencer reid, but here we are now. i fixed it, don't worry. tumblr user sunshineduda if you're out there this is for you.

pyrophoric - liable to ignite spontaneously on exposure to air

The knock on the door made you jump. Your face warms as a result of your nerves, acting like you haven’t been expecting someone to show up at the side door. In fact, you were the one who instructed him to go to the side door, and he’s just following your orders.

Sliding off of your stool, you make your way to the side door, undoing the lock on the crash bar and opening it. He was wearing a pea coat over what looks like a suit, which is maybe a bit overdressed for your lab, but you weren’t going to say anything about it. “Uh,” you finally speak, “You can hang your things up over there,” you nod to the corner of the room.

Once he’s properly hung up his coat and messenger bag, he comes back to you, standing dutifully in front of you, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” he introduces himself.

You nod once in response, “Right,” you introduce yourself in kind, “You can just call me Y/N, though.” You feel no need to use your honorific with other academics, it’s easier to just go by first names. Pointing to a new corner of the room, you lead him in that direction, “I made sure we had a lab coat available for you. I wasn’t sure if you had one of your own,” you explain to him grabbing your own white coat from the locker and pulling it on.

“Thank you,” he responds, taking the spare that you left out for him and tugging it over his sleeves. His hair seems shorter than it was in the pictures you’ve seen of him, which is mostly just what pops up with a quick Google search, but there was something about Dr. Reid that is very unlike any other academic you’ve met before.

You watch him pull the cuffs of the coat over his sleeves, pulling the lapels closer together in front of his chest. “How long has it been?” You ask, handing him a pair of goggles and making a note of his discomfort in the sterile polyester.

He looks at you, big brown eyes with his eyebrows raising up in curiosity, “Pardon?”

Gesturing to the lab coat, you shrug slightly, “How long has it been since you’ve been in a lab?”

“Nine years, three months, and five days,” he answers, barely giving it a second thought as he adjusts his collar.

He has an eidetic memory. That information also shows up when you look him up on the internet, “Right well, I’m sure it’ll be just like riding a bike.”

Spencer gestures for you to lead the way back to the lab, and you take him to your station. It wasn’t clean enough to eat off of, but it was certainly clean enough for the two of you to begin a research plan. “So,” he begins, looking around the lab like he’s casing the place, “You went to Princeton?”

Nodding apprehensively, you wipe your sweaty palms on the fabric of your jeans, “Oh, yeah. For my doctorate at least.”

Spencer takes a seat on the lab stool across from you, nervously adjusting a few of the things in front of him, “Right, Johns Hopkins for your bachelor’s and master’s.”

It seems that someone else has been doing opposition research—Spencer Reid had googled you. “Well,” you tell him, turning on your computer, “It’s no CalTech.”

“Princeton has a great chemistry program,” Spencer points out, protecting your alma mater despite his lack of connection to the school.

Your face warms again, “Oh, I know. It’s just,” you look over at the genius in the room, a shy smile reaching your face. “I’m used to the dick-measuring contests, so I thought you might have a similar preconception.”

Spencer frowns at you, “You thought I’d want to have a dick-measuring contest with you?”

At this point, your face might as well be on fire, “When you put it together and say it like that it sounds awful.” You want to bang your head against the table. Even better, you want to go over to the rinse station and just let the shower head wash away your humiliation. “Can we just talk about chemistry? I’m good with chemistry,” you ramble, focusing your attention on your computer monitor.

“I was joking,” Spencer clarifies.

You swallow thickly, “I know.” There was no explanation in the world that you could give to yourself that would resolve this, so you elect to move past it.

Spencer hums next to you, placing his hands neatly in his lap while he waits for something to do, “So, the interaction that chemicals used in warfare has on modern medicine?”

Your head snaps over to him, your eyes looking at him widely, “You read my dissertation?”

He chuckles at your shock, the sound easing some of your nerves, “I’ve read it a few times now. How did you think I found you?”

Scoffing in response to his question, you shake your head, typing in your username and password, “I just thought you went skimming through the white pages until you saw my name and thought ‘She’s probably available on a Saturday morning.’” Once you’re in the system, you turn back to face him, a slightly less timid smile now on your face. “So, what’s your interest in chemical warfare anyway?”

“I just… I’d like to try something new, and I was looking through one of the recent government reports, and your dissertation was cited at the end, so I decided to reach out to you,” he explains himself to you.

You nod in understanding, “You work for the FBI?”

Spencer’s head bobs, “Yes, but my work for the FBI and my interest in chemical warfare are not intertwined in the slightest.”

You raise your eyebrows in suspicion, “Did your boss tell you to say that to me? Was there an NDA I was supposed to sign?”

He laughs again and this time it makes your heart soar, “No, I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Couldn’t you get in any other lab and just do the work yourself?” You inquire, getting up from your stool and starting to get things out of the cupboards, stirring rods, beakers, and anything else you thought you might need.

Considering it for a moment, Spencer walks up behind you, grabbing a flask from a shelf that you were trying to reach and setting it down for you, “You already have the majority of the research done, and besides, most of my chemistry application is in analytical chemistry, yours is in biochemistry.”

Thanking him, you set everything down in your workspace, careful not to drop anything on the floor as you did so. “So, you’re just curious and you decided to reach out to me to do some experiments over the weekend?”

“I wanted to have your expert opinion,” Spencer tells you, watching as you make your way to the storage area, you type in your PIN and open the closet, setting everything you need on a tray before bringing it all back out to Spencer.

You smile when his eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, the rush of being in a lab hitting him for the first time in almost ten years. “So, Dr. Reid, tell me what you know about white phosphorous.”

He leans back in his stool as if he’s been waiting for you to ask this question, “White phosphorous is an inflammatory allotrope of phosphorous, it’s commonly referred to as the ‘devil’s element’ because it glows green in the dark and is pyrophoric—it’s liable to ignite unexpectedly when exposed to air.”

“I know what pyrophoric means,” you tell him, trying to hide your recognition of just how smart he is.

Spencer holds his hands up in surrender, “Militaries frequently use it to illuminate battlefields, cause smokescreens, and act as an incendiary. Once it ignites, it’s very difficult to extinguish, and it sticks to surfaces like skin and clothing,” he continues, glancing over to the small amount of white phosphorous that you’ve allotted for your experiments today. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Spencer was nervous around the phosphorous.

You nod at him in confirmation, “We store it underwater because it’s barely soluble, and the smoke from burning phosphorous can cause damage to the eyes and respiratory tract because of the acids and phosphine.” Your tone is deathly serious, which seems apt for the situation you’re in, “White phosphorous can penetrate through bone.”

“Did you have a liability waiver that I’m supposed to sign?” Spencer asks, taking his eyes off the chemical and looking over at you again.

Smiling, you let out a breathy laugh, “Did you just make a joke, Dr. Reid?”

Obviously proud of himself, he beams over at you, “Spencer,” he insists, “And yes, I did.”

Your head bobs at his insistence, “Right, Spencer. So, we’ll take what we already know about Willie Pete and use that prior knowledge to give us a few things to test. Obviously, I don’t want to blow up my workplace, so that limits our ability to have a controlled experiment. Once we have your options, we’ll put some protective gear and get the white phosphorous out.”

“Is that why you did your dissertation on mustard gas?” Spencer asks you, starting to look through the chemicals in front of you, “Because white phosphorous is so unstable.”

Humming, you get your notepad out and flip to a fresh page, “Partially. It was that and the fact that I was obsessed with World War One when I was a child, so mustard gas made the most sense to me.”

“A chemist with an affinity for The Great War,” Spencer muses, glancing over at you as he portions copper sulfate into a beaker.

Hiding your smile as you portion out silver nitrate into a graduated cylinder, Spencer adds water to his beaker, dissolving the copper sulfate, “If I hadn’t gone into chemistry, it would’ve been history.”

“You still could,” he says, using one of the stir sticks to get the rest of the compound to dissolve.

Laughing, you shrug in response, “Not everyone’s meant to get multiple PhDs, but sometimes I think about taking history classes here. I can take them for free because I work for the university.”

Once your test subjects were ready, the two of you put on protective gear, protecting yourselves from the deadly chemicals, “Next time someone tells me my job is dangerous, I’m going to tell them about you.” He sets his watch on a stool, not wanting to let it get damaged while you experiment.

You swore Spencer was nervous, holding his breath as you portioned out the white phosphorous in your controlled area, “So now we light it,” you tell him, and a rush of air later, the allotrope ignites on the fake human skin.

Carrying on the experiment, the two of you sat there for hours trying to set fires that wouldn’t lead to serious bodily harm. The best you find is Spencer’s copper sulfate solution, which reacted with the white phosphorous in a way that made it easier to see, which could help with the debridement of burns. “Why did you agree to help me with this?” He asks nervously, watching you scrawl notes on your legal pad.

You hum, “It’s related to my research, and I’m not in the middle of any other campaigns right now. Why did you send me a letter in the mail asking for help?”

“I don’t like email,” he responds as if it should’ve been obvious—and maybe it should’ve. “Only one more,” he tells you, “Test number nine, silver nitrate, point-two Molar aqueous solution,” he recites for your records.

Most of the experiment had been going so poorly that you half expected it to go up in flames. You took the stirring rod from the graduated cylinder and placed the clean end in your mouth before going to apply the solution.

“What are you doing? Don’t put that in your mouth,” Spencer scolds, taking the stick from your mouth.

You frown at him, righting your hand before anything has the chance to spill, “The chemicals are on the other side.”

He looks at you incredulously, “My point still stands.”

Pausing for a moment, a sly smile grows on your face, “Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes,” he admits, “Anyone who puts silver nitrate near their mouth rightfully makes me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes, you watch him put the stirring stick in its proper home before you apply the solution, your eyes going wide as you watch the reaction. Neutralizing the burn, “Oh my god, Spencer!” You exclaim, turning to look at him, you don’t even think before tossing your arms around him.

For just a moment, he hugs you back before looking at the result of the experiment. “So, silver nitrate is the best treatment we’ve found for white phosphorous burns, but if someone doesn’t have silver nitrate, then copper sulfate would also work.”

You nod in agreement, writing something similar on your notepad, “Yes, but the use of copper sulfate can also cause intravascular hemolysis and renal failure, so silver nitrate is the best conclusion that we’ve drawn.”

“You do realize that the people I’m sharing this with have never and likely will never encounter white phosphorous in their lives, so they don’t really care about the nuance,” he explains to you.

Rolling your eyes, you sit back in your stool, “Well I care about the nuance. What if this was something I wanted to publish someday?”

Spencer smiles at you, there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite name, “You want to publish an article with me?”

Before you get a chance to answer, a spark goes off from one of your bigger failures of the day, causing you to jump from your stool, leaving you falling to the floor and your seat clattering on the linoleum.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, clambering from his stool to offer you a hand, which you accept gratefully.

Nodding, you stand in front of him, “Yeah, just my bruised ego.” Not to mention the bruise on my tailbone, you think to yourself. Looking over at the time, you sigh, “I should start getting everything back in order for Monday.”

Once the last of your mess has been properly cleaned up, you watch Spencer shed his lab coat. You were almost disappointed—it was a good look on him.

“Thank you again for helping to clean up,” you tell him, hanging your jacket in your designated locker. “You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “It was my pleasure, and besides, it’s a small thank you for giving up your Saturday just to quell my curiosity. It was nice to work with an expert in the field.”

Laughing nervously, you pull a cardigan on over your arms, “Right, shame I didn’t get to ask about the vapor-liquid equilibria of alternative fuels,” you jest.

“You read my dissertation?” Spencer’s question is an echo of the same one you asked him that morning.

Your face warms as you nod slowly, “The chemistry one was digestible. I tried my hand at another one, the non-obvious relationship factors using cluster weighted modeling and geographic regression,” you rattle off the title of his engineering dissertation. “I couldn’t quite get through it, and I didn’t bother with the mathematics one.”

Spencer falters for a moment, studying your expression with something that resembles wonder, “I mean, I could explain them to you sometime. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’d get it if you had someone to walk you through it.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “I’d like that.”

The smile on his face is worth all of the nerves you’ve ever felt, “Do you drink coffee?”

A small giggle escapes your lips as you hold the door open for him, “Habitually.”

[genshinluvr]

Dating App

Pairings: Various Love&Deepspace Men x reader

Summary: Tara approaches your cubicle one day at the Hunters Association, asking about your relationship status. Of course, that is a complicated question to answer. Little did you know, you're matched with some familiar faces who are friends, coworkers, and lackeys to the men you're interested in.

Note: I had to delay this fanfic because I was dealing with some personal conflict, and it kept my thoughts occupied, so I could barely type anything for this fic. This is my first Love&Deepspace fanfic! Please be kind because some of these characters may or may not be out of character. Hopefully, the more I write Love&Deepspace fanfics, the more I will get the hang of it and capture their personalities just fine :'> Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of

Word Count: 6.3k

It’s a slow day at the Hunters Association, and you’re in your cubicle typing away on your computer. Usually, you’re killing Wanderers and are assigned to countless perilous missions, but this week, you’re working in the cubicle doing paperwork. Your eyes feel strained from staring at the monitor for so long that you have to look away, or else you’ll get a pounding headache. That is something you don’t want to deal with alongside Zayne’s lectures if you end up having to visit Akso Hospital. 

Footsteps approaching your cubicle pull you out of your thoughts. You see Tara’s head peeking from behind your cubicle. A big smile plasters on her face as she rests her arm on top of your cubicle. 

“Hey, [Y/N],” Tara says, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief as she lays on her arm. “Working hard as always?” She teases.

You stop typing on your computer, smiling at your dear friend and coworker. “Hi, Tara! Yes, I’m trying to get these documents completed and turned in to Captain Jenna before the deadline. Is there anything you need?”

Tara hums, shaking her head. “Not really, but I am curious about something…” She trails off, tapping on her chin, her eyes wandering around while trying to look nonchalant.

“Oh? Then it must be really important for you to approach me in the middle of work.” You joke before continuing typing away on your computer. 

Tara lets out a long, wistful sigh. You continue your work, only for Tara to let out a frustrated huff. She releases another sigh, but louder this time to get your attention away from your computer. “I’m worried if I ask, you wouldn’t answer because of how personal it is,” Tara says, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting out her bottom lip.

You quickly save your documents before pushing your chair back, turning to give Tara your full undivided attention. You lean in your chair, curious about what Tara wants to ask you— something personal, of course, but her comment piqued your interest. “Tara, we’re friends. You can ask me anything you like! I’m more than happy to answer your pressing questions.” 

Tara’s eyes light up, but she quickly fixes her composure, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. “It’s… about your relationship status and whether you’re seeing anyone,” Tara says, pretending to check her nails while occasionally looking at you from the corner of her eyes.

Your eyes widen at Tara’s response. Your relationship status? While you don’t mind telling Tara about your relationship status, you wonder why she asked all of a sudden. She’s not planning on setting you up on a blind date, is she? 

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure how to answer her. You’re technically not dating anyone as of now, but there are four people in particular who have been occupying your thoughts 24/7. Is Tara going to ask you about your relations with any of them? Tara taps her nails on the cubicle as she waits for your response.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “If I have to be honest, I’m not sure,” you reply.

Tara stares at you, her mouth agape. Tara knows that you’re quite close with Xavier, your mission partner. But she’s also aware of Rafayel’s feelings for you, as you are his bodyguard. Then there’s your primary care physician— a cardiologist named Zayne. He’s a nice guy— a little dry, but nice nonetheless! Oh! Let’s not forget this mysterious man you once brought to karaoke with your coworkers. He’s definitely not the best singer, but he is quite the looker! What’s his name again?

“What are your thoughts on dating apps?” 

You blink at Tara, letting her question slowly sink in. Dating apps? You turn to your computer and scratch the back of your neck. What are your thoughts on dating apps? You’ve never been on one before, nor do you plan on registering for one. Who knows how many weirdos there are on those dating apps?

You visibly shudder. “I don’t plan on being on dating apps, Tara. Besides, as a Deepspace Hunter, I don’t have time for dating apps. I’m always going on missions,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“But the great thing about dating apps is that you don’t even have to meet the people you match with! Who knows, maybe you’ll meet the love of your life on a dating app,” Tara shrugs her shoulders, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

You turn to your computer, shaking your head at her suggestion and comment. You’re not against dating apps, but it’s not for you. Besides, you have a bigger fish to fry, and that is getting the paperwork and documents completed before the deadline. You briefly tell Tara that you’ll think about it just to get her off your back about your dating life. Semi-satisfied with your response, Tara walks away. How do hunters have time to go on dates? Especially if you’re a higher rank and constantly go on dangerous missions? Your schedule is unpredictable, and you don’t have as much time as you wish you did.

You slump forward in your seat and rest your head on your hand. The quiet sound of your coworkers tapping away on their computers isn’t loud enough to drown out the questions running through your mind. While the suggestion of going on a dating app is tempting, you’re not interested in meeting anyone, especially if they’re from the internet. 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅*ִ  Zayne ☃︎⋆꙳•❅*ִ

Zayne looks up from his computer to see Dr. Greyson entering his office. Zayne sighs and adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he continues to type away. Footsteps approach Zayne’s desk as he continues to type away on his computer, too busy to see what Dr. Greyson is up to.

Dr. Greyson clears his throat, trying to get Zayne’s attention, only for the cardiologist to briefly look up at the anxious man before continuing what he’s doing. Zayne slowly turns his head, his eyes still glued to the monitor.

“Is there something you need, Dr. Greyson?” Zayne says, finally looking away from his monitor and at Dr. Greyson.

Dr. Greyson clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are things going with you and Miss Hunter?” Dr. Greyson asks suddenly.

Zayne stares at Dr. Greyson quizzically, raising his eyebrows at the brown-haired cardiac surgeon. Things are going fine with you, but why does Dr. Greyson want to know how things are going between you and him? Dr. Greyson continues to almost anxiously stare at Zayne, waiting to hear Zayne’s response. 

Zayne sighs, takes his glasses off, and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Everything is going fine between us, Dr. Greyson. Why are you suddenly interested in my relationship with her?” Zayne questions, putting his glasses back on.

A look of surprise flashes across Dr. Greyson’s face, almost like he’s caught off guard— his cheeks and ears turning dark red. That doesn’t look good. Zayne raises his eyebrows at Dr. Greyson’s reaction and crosses his arms over his chest. Dr. Greyson briefly looks down at his phone, then back at Zayne, visibly flustered. Dr. Greyson’s strange reaction and action causes Zayne’s eyes to swiftly dart down to the phone in Dr. Greyson’s hands. 

Zayne clears his throat, grabbing Dr. Greyson’s attention. “Is there something I need to be aware of?”

Dr. Greyson presses his lips into a thin line, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand while glancing down at his phone again. For some reason, Dr. Greyson’s strange behavior and his constant looking down at his phone bothers Zayne. Zayne gets up from his seat and walks over to where Dr. Greyson is standing with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Without saying a word, Dr. Greyson shows Zayne the screen of his phone. Zayne takes Dr. Greyson’s phone from his hands and inspects the screen. Dr. Greyson has an app opened on his phone; it’s a dating app… huh, Zayne never thought that Dr. Greyson would be on a dating app.

“What am I supposed to look at aside from your being on a dating app?” Zayne asks Dr. Greyson, raising his eyebrows at the brown-haired cardiac surgeon.

Dr. Greyson’s eyes widen before quickly snatching the phone from Zayne’s hand, tapping away on the screen before returning the phone to Zayne. Zayne raises his eyebrows at Dr. Greyson’s strange behavior before proceeding to look at Dr. Greyson’s phone. On the phone’s screen shows a text conversation between Dr. Greyson and you. Zayne furrows his eyebrows, scrolling through the text message between you and Dr. Greyson. Why are you on a dating app? Zayne hesitantly clicks on your icon, opening a small window to your dating profile.

The profile contains a lot of your personal information, from your name to your age to various selfies. Some information provided on your dating profile is a little bit strange, and there are some things Zayne isn’t even aware of. Wait a minute, why did Dr. Greyson swipe right on you?

Zayne slowly looks at Dr. Greyson from the corner of his eyes, almost glaring at his assistant. “You swiped right on [Y/N], I see,” Zayne says nonchalantly.

Dr. Greyson’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, I wasn’t the first one to swipe, actually. You see, she swiped right on me first, and when I swiped, we ended up matching,” Dr. Greyson sputters, rubbing the back of his neck while his face turns a few shades redder than it already is. 

“You still swiped on her, Dr. Greyson. It doesn’t matter who swiped first; you still swiped right when you saw [Y/N]’s dating profile,” Zayne comments, his grip slightly tightening around Dr. Greyson’s phone.

Zayne doesn’t know how to react. On one side, he’s almost angry that Dr. Greyson swiped right on you, and on the other side, he feels hurt. Almost betrayed in a way, but this dating profile of yours feels off. Without thinking, Zayne takes a screenshot (well, multiple screenshots) of your dating profile, from the information to the images and the conversation you and Dr. Greyson are currently having. 

He sends the screenshot to himself, ignoring the questioning gaze Dr. Greyson sends his way. After Zayne’s shift ends at Akso Hospital, he’s going to be stopping by your apartment to confront you about your dating profile and conversation with Dr. Greyson. Zayne laughs bitterly before handing the phone back to the flustered Dr. Greyson before returning to his desk. 

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ Xavier ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

At Philo, Xavier is watering the plants around the floral shop, assisting Jeremiah with his shop. It’s a slow day, and only a few customers pop in and out of the shop to buy flowers. Xavier’s supposed to be at the Hunters Association, but instead, he’s at Philo doing other tasks that have nothing to do with finding the Aether Core. Plus, Jeremiah dragged him out of bed, and he did not appreciate it at all. While Xavier’s watering the flowers and plants around the shop, Jeremiah enters the floral shop with his eyes glued to his phone, typing away. Jeremiah looks up from his phone, admiring the rearrangement of the floral shop.

“It’s looking good in here so far! You know, if you weren’t a Hunter, you would be a decent florist,” Jeremiah jokes, walking toward Xavier.

Xavier ignores Jeremiah’s comment and proceeds to walk to the front of the floral shop, placing the watering can on a nearby table. Xavier pulls out his phone and starts playing mobile games, completely disregarding Jeremiah’s presence as the curly-haired man walks toward Xavier. 

“So… how are things going between you and [Y/N]?” Jeremiah asks suddenly, leaning against the table beside Xavier.

Xavier continues to play on his phone, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Everything’s fine between us. I saw her two days ago at the Hunters Association,” Xavier replies, his eyebrows scrunching up as he tries to kill the monsters on his phone. 

Jeremiah slowly nods, crossing his arms over his chest while still holding onto his phone. After the brief pause between Xavier and Jeremiah, Xavier pauses his game and looks at Jeremiah, raising his eyebrows. Jeremiah taps his foot on the ground, fumbling with the phone in his hands, causing Xavier’s eyes to dart down to the device. 

“It’s good to hear that things are fine between you and [Y/N]...” Jeremiah trails off, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “There weren’t any arguments between you two, right? Everything is fine and dandy?” 

Xavier looks at Jeremiah weirdly, wondering why his friend has a sudden interest in your and Xavier’s relationship. Xavier slowly nods his head in response to Jeremiah’s strange question, still confused about Jeremiah’s interrogation and strange reaction. Silence hangs in the air between him and Jeremiah, and no one is saying anything. 

Xavier points at Jeremiah’s phone, “Why are you twirling your phone around like it’s a fidget toy? Are you okay? You’re acting strange— even more strange than usual,” Xavier says, tucking his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. 

Jeremiah presses his lips into a thin line, debating how to explain to Xavier what has popped up on the dating app he recently joined. “What would you do if the girl you’re interested in has a dating profile?” Jeremiah asks.

“I don’t know how to respond to that question. Does a girl you’re interested in have a dating profile or something? What is going on? I’m confused,” Xavier sighs, running his hands through his hair as he leans on the table behind him.

Jeremiah lets out a frustrated sigh before shoving his phone in Xavier’s face. Xavier takes a step back and grabs the phone from Jeremiah’s grasp, trying to look at what caused Jeremiah to be so frustrated (aside from Xavier’s obliviousness). Xavier looks at Jeremiah, confused. Jeremiah raises his eyebrows, wondering why Xavier had the opposite reaction from what he imagined.

Xavier holds up Jeremiah’s phone to show that he is on the home screen. Jeremiah snatches the phone from Xavier’s hands before clicking on a pink app. Jeremiah then places the phone back in Xavier’s hands, pointing to what he was implying about not long ago. 

Jeremiah scratches the back of his head, looking elsewhere because he does not want to see the reaction on Xavier’s face. “[Y/N] is on this dating app I recently registered on, and we matched. I wanted you to see that your… beloved… is on a dating app,” Jeremiah says, clearing his throat.

Dear god, the tension is so thick that he feels like he might suffocate. A million thoughts race in Xavier’s mind as he scrolls through the messages between you and Jeremiah— the conversation is flirty, needless to say. Xavier clicks on your profile picture, and your dating profile appears on the screen.

There is a lot of information provided on your dating profile, including what you look for in a man; there are eight pictures of you at the Hunters Association, selfies of you and your coworkers at the Hunters Association, and many other things that make Xavier’s head want to spin.

“Hey, Xavier, are you okay?” Jeremiah asks, placing his hand on the distraught man’s shoulders. “I understand you’re upset about [Y/N] being on a dating app, but—”

“You matched with her on the dating app?” Xavier interrupts, turning to Jeremiah with a glare.

Jeremiah looks at Xavier with wide eyes, his mouth agape, unsure how to respond. Yes, he indeed matched with you on the dating app. But does that really matter? You, Xavier’s lady, are on a dating app for fucks sake!

Jeremiah awkwardly clears his throat, “I matched with her because she swiped on me, alright? Besides, I wanted to investigate why she’s on a dating app when she’s with you— well, I assume you two were together.” 

Xavier continues to stare at Jeremiah, unamused. Jeremiah thought that Xavier was going to be upset over you being on a dating app, but apparently, he’s more upset over the fact that Jeremiah swiped right on you. Jeremiah sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while Xavier continues to not-so-subtly glare at him. 

Xavier looks at the screen before screen recording the conversation between you and Jeremiah, then your dating profile before sending it to himself. As much as he wants to confront you right now, you’re still working at the Hunters Association, and he’s going to talk Jeremiah’s ears off for matching with you on the dating app. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 Rafayel 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Rafayel stands in a corner, watching journalists, photographers, and art critics gravitate toward his newest piece. Many admiring and snapping photos of the art piece while murmuring among one another. A couple of journalists approached Rafayel for an interview, and he gladly answered a few questions and explained his inspiration for the art piece. However, the longer the exhibit drags on, the more Rafayel feels drained.

Thomas excuses himself from the conversation he’s having with journalists before walking over to where Rafayel has retreated. Rafayel has a visible pout on his face, his arms crossing over his chest, and he occasionally huffs and fixes his hair.

“Everyone is admiring your newest art piece, Rafayel. Shouldn’t you be happy?” Thomas asks, now standing beside him.

Rafayel drags out a sigh, shifting from one leg to another. “How much longer do I have to be here? I’m tired and hungry. I feel like a fish out of water,” Rafayel says, turning to Thomas with a pout.

Thomas looks at Rafayel amusingly, propping his hands on his hips. “We’ve been here for only three hours, Rafayel. You promised to do a few interviews with renowned art magazines, and you’ve only completed two,” Thomas replies.

“Only three hours? I could’ve spent those three hours with Miss Bodyguard at Twinkle Toys playing at the claw machine with her,” Rafayel huffs, kicking the ground before him. 

Thomas chuckles, shaking his head. There’s not a day where Rafayel doesn’t complain about being at an art exhibit without you. Usually, when you’re not busy, you accompany him and protect him from harm. But today is not that day, and Rafayel has been pouty ever since. Could it be because he’s upset over…

Should Thomas ask Rafayel about that? Thomas is going to do it; Rafayel either knows about it already, and that is the reason why he’s pouting, or he’ll eventually find out about it, and Thomas will never hear the end of it.

“Rafayel, are you upset because [Y/N] is on a dating app?” Thomas asks casually, turning to the pouting Lumerian.

The pout on Rafayel’s face quickly disappears after hearing Thomas’s question. Rafayel looks at Thomas, eyes wide with shock, horror, and confusion. Oh, okay, so maybe Rafayel isn’t aware that you’re on a dating app. Rafayel steps towards Thomas, almost glaring daggers into his friend’s soul.

“What did you say? Care to repeat that for me?”

Thomas clears his throat and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Thomas scrolls through his phone before showing Rafayel the screen. Rafayel takes Thomas’s phone from his hands and stares at your dating profile with keen eyes. Everything about your profile feels off; it doesn’t feel like it’s the real you. 

Rafayel has seen those images of you before because they’re on your social media. But the information about you does not feel authentic, if that makes sense. Why did you list your type in a man when he’s clearly your type? A man with a lot of money, a sense of humor, and will spoil you with luxury items? Rafayel can easily do that! Why would you be on that damn dating app!?

Wait a damn minute…

“Why does it say unmatch in the corner?” Rafayel asks, slowly turning to Thomas with a sharp glare.

Thomas holds his hands up in defense. “Calm down, Rafayel. I was making sure to see if the person behind the dating profile is actually [Y/N] or someone trying to impersonate her,” Thomas says.

“How does that justify any of this!? You matched with my bodyguard!” Rafayel exclaims, ignoring the looks people shoot in his and Thomas’s direction as they walk by. 

Even if Thomas matched with you to see “whether the person behind the profile is actually you,” Thomas continues to match with you on a dating app. While it’s interesting to see Thomas on a dating app, what bothers Rafayel is the fact that Thomas has the audacity to match with someone Rafayel is interested in.

Rafayel tightens his grip on Thomas’s phone, glaring at the screen. Rafayel’s inner monologue drowns out the noise of art critics, journalists, and photographers. His breathing starts to pick up, as does his heartbeat; the sound of his racing heart pounds in his ears. 

“Rafayel,” Thomas tries to grab his attention, placing a hand on Rafayel’s shoulders.

Rafayel brushes Thomas’s hands away as he continues to scroll through your dating profile to take in every information that’s provided. You’re allegedly not looking for anything serious despite stating that you want a rich boyfriend who will spoil you with materials (he’s already doing that; is that not enough?). The longer he lingers on your dating profile, the more he feels his sanity slips away. Without thinking, Rafayel walks away with Thomas’s phone still in his grasp, leaving his friend behind. 

“Rafayel! Where are you going?! The art exhibit isn’t even over yet!” Thomas calls out.

Rafayel ignores Thomas and continues to walk to the entrance of the art museum. Even if Rafayel is far from Linkon, Rafayel is determined to confront you about your dating profile on the dating app that Thomas has the audacity to match with you. Rafayel looks at the time, making a note that he will arrive at Linkon by nightfall. 

⋆.˚𓅆࿐ Sylus ⋆.˚𓅆࿐

Luke and Kieran stand behind Sylus, looking down at their phones while whispering to one another. Sylus ignores the loud whispering behind him as he continues to stare at the man before him, unamused. The man is one of the dealers of the military-grade weapon that Sylus has auctioned off the black market— it’s illegal to be owned by those who aren’t part of the military, but what the government doesn’t know won’t hurt them now, will it?

The man— Ashton Gray, also known as Mr. Gray— gestures to one of his lackeys to hand over the briefcase that contains the weapon. Mr. Gray’s lackey places the briefcase on the table and slides it toward Sylus’s direction. Sylus reaches forward and opens the metal briefcase, examining the carefully packed weapon.

“Hmph. It’s in perfect condition and looks lovely,” Sylus mutters. He pulls the weapon out from the briefcase, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. “It’s durable; the material doesn’t feel cheap or flimsy.”

Mr. Gray scoffs, rolling his eyes, and laughs bitterly. “Mr. Sylus, the weapons we sell to consumers are top-notch.”

Sylus ignores the man’s comment and continues to inspect every inch of the weapon. The weapon is made of rare metals that cannot be found anywhere. They’re mined in the deepest depths of a repository by a small group of people in a remote location that isn’t known to many people, or at least to the general public. 

“No way!” Luke gasps, grabbing attention from everyone else in the room.

Sylus turns to the twins behind him and raises his eyebrows at Luke and Kieran. Kieran quickly hides his phone behind his back while Luke rubs the back of his neck, apologizing to the annoyed Onychinus leader. 

Mr. Gray furrows his eyebrows at the twins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mr. Sylus, do your lackeys have something to share with the rest of the room?” Mr. Gray asks, gesturing to the twenty-something people in the private room in an undisclosed area. 

Sylus looks at Mr. Gray, amused. “Mr. Gray, you seemed to be bothered by whatever is keeping Luke and Kieran occupied,” Sylus comments, placing the gun back in the metal briefcase. “Whatever they are up to is none of your business.” 

The metal briefcase closes with a click. Sylus stands up, grabs the briefcase, and begins making his way to the exit, nodding to Mr. Gray with Luke and Kieran following. Mr. Gray glares at the twins as they walk by, almost mockingly waving at him. Once the three are out of earshot, Sylus sighs and adjusts the sleeve of his shirt. 

The trio enters Sylus’s sports car, silence hanging in the air. Sylus hands the metal briefcase to Luke before turning on the car; the engine roars to life. The three sit in silence, watching the scenery go by as they leave the location. For once, Sylus didn’t blow the place up. Sylus glances in the rearview mirror to see the twins scrolling through their phones, completely occupied with whatever they’re seeing on the screen. Sylus sighs and shakes his head as he continues to drive the three of them back to the base in the N109 Zone.

“Care to explain to me what is keeping you two occupied on that phone of yours?” Sylus asks, breaking the silence in the car. “That outburst was unnecessary.”

Kieran and Luke glance at each other, unsure of what to say. Both Luke and Kieran recently joined a dating app (the N109 Zone is boring, and these two want to meet someone new when their service isn’t needed), and the twins received a match! Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong! Luke and Kieran share the same dating profile (they come in a pack; you can’t separate them. If you want one of them, you’ll get the other free), and they happen to match with little ole Miss Hunter (you).

While you and Sylus have this strange yet comical dynamic, it’s shocking to see you on a dating app despite being on Onychinus’s radar. They know every piece of information about you, and by “they,” Luke and Kieran are implying Sylus. Yes, there is information about you that both the twins know, but they don’t know every little thing about you. 

“Is it that dating app of yours?” Sylus asks, eyes gluing onto the road ahead of him. 

Luke clears his throat, nodding. “Yes! But we saw something that caught us off guard, that’s all. I apologize for my outburst, boss-man.”

Kieran continues to stare at your dating profile on his screen, rereading every information provided on your profile. It’s a good thing Sylus meets all of the requirements of what you want in a man. However, Sylus isn’t going to be happy if he hears that you’re on a dating app when you’ve been seeing him. Speaking of…

Kieran looks up from his phone, making eye contact with Sylus through the rearview mirror. “Hey, boss-man! How are things going between you and Miss Hunter?” Kieran asks, crossing his right leg over his left. 

“Things are going well. However, we haven’t been in contact for perhaps a few weeks. Why?” Sylus asks, raising his eyebrows at Kieran’s question. 

Luke and Kieran look at each other, not saying a word. Luke and Kieran press their lips into a thin line, unsure of how else to answer Sylus’s question. Sylus rolls his eyes and uses his Evol to snatch Kieran’s phone from his hands. Kieran opens his mouth to protest but stops when Luke nudges him with his elbow.

Sylus looks down at the phone, letting out a scoff, and a bitter laugh follows. “I see. So this is what caused you two to have an outburst moments ago,” Sylus mutters. “And you two are matched with Miss Hunter.”

Luke and Kieran stare at Sylus from the backseat, waiting to see what Sylus is going to do next. Sylus shakes his head, sighing before tossing the phone back to the twins. Luke quickly grabs the phone and hands it to Kieran, who checks to make sure the phone isn’t damaged. Instead of taking the usual route back to Onychinus’s base, Sylus decides to take a different route, causing Luke and Kieran to be confused.

“Where are we going, boss-man?” Luke asks, looking at Kieran from the corner of his eyes.

Sylus shrugs. “We’re taking a little field trip to visit a certain kitten in Linkon City,” Sylus replies.

˚୨୧⋆. Y/N ˚୨୧⋆.

You step into the elevator of your apartment, rubbing the back of your neck. You have been sitting in your cubicle for hours at the Hunters Association. Your back is hurting, and so is your neck and your butt. While the elevator takes you to the seventh floor of your apartment, you space out, wondering why Tara asked you about your relationship status. The elevator chimes, snapping you out of your thoughts. You step out of the elevator and walk towards your apartment, rummaging through your tote bag to search for your keys. 

“Found you,” you mutter, grabbing your keys hidden deep in your tote bag and pulling them out with a sigh of relief. “Now I can finally relax—”

Your eyes widen when you see four familiar men standing at the front door to your apartment. They’re glaring daggers at each other, on edge. The familiar twins stand to the side, shaking their heads with disapproval. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Can I help you?”

“Why are you acting all innocent? You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss Bodyguard!” Rafayel exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest while pouting in your direction. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused about what Rafayel is implying. You rub your temples with a sigh, too exhausted to deal with whatever is happening between the four men standing at the door to your apartment. It is way too late for you to be dealing with any sort of conflict. 

You sigh for the umpteenth time. “Whatever is going on, you guys can tell me when I unlock the door to my apartment. I don’t want my neighbors to overhear our conversation,” you mutter, weaving through the crowd of men.

Even though you can get your fingerprint to unlock the door to your apartment, it does not work as of now. You’re going to have to call the front desk to inform them of the issue with the fingerprint lock. Until then, you’re using keys to get into your apartment. You enter your apartment with six men crowding into the comfort of your home while mumbling under their breaths.

You hang your tote bag on the rack along with your coat, toeing your shoes off before slipping on your house slippers. You turn to the four (technically six, but Luke and Kieran are making themselves home in your living room) men, waiting for one of them to explain why they’re all standing in front of your apartment.

Sylus sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kitten, care to—”

“Why are you on a dating app!?” Rafayel exclaims, shoving Thomas’s phone towards your face. 

You back up and grab the phone from Rafayel’s hands, squinting at the screen. Oh great, more screens to look at. You hold the phone close to your face, blinking rapidly. You’re not on a dating app, and you never have a dating profile in the first place. Wait, could this be what Tara was trying to ask you about earlier today at the Hunters Association?

“I’m not on a dating app,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at the men before you.

You walk farther into your apartment, scrolling through your supposed dating profile. Whoever is posing as you on this dating app is very committed to being you. You sit on the armrest of the couch, reading through “your” dating profile.

“Are you three here for the same thing, or is Rafayel the only one interrogating me over something I didn’t know I had?” You ask.

Xavier and Zayne show their phones— screenshots of the same dating profile and messages between you and whoever “you” matched with on that app. Sylus grabs Kieran by the shoulders and nudges him to hand over his phone to you. You stare at Luke and Kieran, almost horrified that they are the ones who found this dating profile of “yours.”

You pull out your phone and hand it to Rafayel. “As I said earlier, I’m not on any dating apps. Whoever these people matched with, that person isn’t me.” 

Rafayel shoves your phone to your face for a second to unlock your phone before scrolling through your phone, skimming through every app you have installed. Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier join Rafayel in going through your phone.

You made a face. “I don’t remember taking this picture,” you mutter, zooming in on one particular photo. “And this information about myself isn’t remotely accurate. How did you four fall for this catfish?”

Luke coughs. “To be fair, we,” he gestures to him and Kieran, “assumed it was legitimate because “your” dating profile is a verified account. Meaning, whoever is running the account somehow managed to confirm that they are you.”

You stare at him blankly, then look at the four men, who are still glued to your phone. You sink into your couch and hand back the phone to Rafayel. Rafayel hands the phone to the closest person before stomping to you, sniffling. 

“Cutie~! How could you match with Thomas!? What’s so special about him?” Rafayel whines, plopping down beside you and resting his head on yours. 

You kiss your teeth and pinch Rafayel’s cheeks. “Rafayel! I told you already! I’m not on any dating apps!” Rafayel whines, grabbing your hands and ripping your hand from his cheek. 

Xavier hands you your phone, standing before you with his arms over his chest. Oh, he’s pouting as well. Zayne and Sylus look both relieved but also mildly miffed with the fact that they fell for a catfish. 

You stand up, stomping towards Sylus and poking his chest with your index finger. “You! You’re technologically advanced, yet you couldn’t tell that the dating profile is a catfish!?” You screech, repeatedly poking his chest over and over.

Sylus grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours. “Kitten, I had a long day. Luke and Kieran are the ones who showed me your supposed dating profile. I had to double-check with you, sweetie. Plus, it has been a while since we’ve seen each other. I wanted to take this opportunity to come and visit you.”

You glare at Sylus, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Damn him and his smooth talk! You look at Zayne and Xavier, waiting for one of them to explain— or give an excuse like the leader of Onychinus. 

Zayne closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long exhale. “I have no excuses, darling. However, Dr. Greyson was convinced that the person behind that dating profile was you,” Zayne says, gazing at you bashfully, the tips of his ears bright red.

You rub the bridge of your nose, trying to hold on to the last bits of your sanity. From what you’re gathering, you have matched with Dr. Greyson, Thomas, both Luke and Kieran because they share one profile for some reason, and… who else?

You look at Xavier. Xavier avoids your eyes, glaring at the ground with his jaws clenched. If you look closely, you can almost see steam coming from Xavier’s ears. His ears are so red, and you feel bad, but you can’t help but laugh at how adorably jealous he is of whoever “you” matched with on that damn dating app.

“Let me guess, it’s Jeremiah, the owner of Philo?” Luke asks, giggling behind his hand.

Xavier’s head snapped toward Luke and Kieran’s direction, glaring at them while trying to remain as calm as possible. “[Y/N]  didn’t match with Jeremiah. The catfish matched with Jeremiah,” Xavier corrects Luke.

You rub your temples, too tired to handle the entire situation. If you had the energy, you would’ve been very upset over the fact that someone is pretending to be you and matching with men who are friends with the men you’re interested in. But right now, you just want to go shower and relax.

“I’m going to go shower. We can talk about this later, but for now, please give it a rest. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted,” You say.

The four men watch you walk to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Rafayel turns to Sylus, crossing his arms over his chest while continuing to pout. “Is there a way for you to check and see who’s behind this account?”

Sylus rubs his temples, shaking his head. “As of now, I cannot check to see who’s behind the account,” Sylus mutters. “But I will certainly look into it. It’s a crime to impersonate someone on the internet.”

Xavier shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “If we cannot find the person behind the account, we will need to lure them out somehow. It’s evident this person is close with [Y/N].”

“Oh? And what do you suggest?” Zayne mutters, raising his eyebrows at Xavier’s comment. “I’m sure the person behind the account will not reveal their identity easily. Who knows how long they had this account for.”

Rafayel rolls his eyes and walks to the couch, sitting on the armrest. “Whoever is impersonating as Miss Bodyguard is stupid. They don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.”

While you’re in the shower, the four men hatch a plan to lure the person behind the catfish account out. Will you be in on the plan? Perhaps. But for now, they need to find a way to meet the person behind the account. Well, whoever is matched with “you” on that dating app needs to plan a date to meet “you” in person. 

Note: Ehhh, I'm not really feeling the ending, if I have to be really honest. I might make a part two for this fic, but I'm not entirely sure if I should. This is my first Love&Deepspace fanfic, so, it's most likely ass. I was supposed to post this fic before Monday, but then I typed way too much, and here we are with a 6.3k word fanfic. For this brand new "series" of mine, I will be writing various men x reader and individual men x reader. Hopefully my future Love&Deepspace fanfic will improve as I continue to write for this game :) anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[songbirdseung]

𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑳𝑬  𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻  𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹  𝑾𝑨𝑺 It’s a very nice thing to have... love, that is.

The idea of spending the rest of your life with one person, someone you cherish, someone you vow to love, care for, and all that. It sounds poetic. Sweet. Like the kind of thing you read about in novels or see in movies where everything wraps up perfectly before the credits roll.

But for you, that wasn’t going to happen.

Now, as you stand in the backroom of a church, surrounded by people who love you, dressed in white and still holding a bouquet like you're waiting for a cue that will never come, you’re being told that your groom isn't going to marry you.

And suddenly, love feels like a cruel joke.

Because what do you mean... he just left? Just walked out without a word? After all the years together, the memories, the plans? The late nights dreaming about your shared future? What do you mean you won't be walking down the aisle, led by your father to the man who once promised to love you for the rest of his life?

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t feel real.

You couldn’t even cry. You were too stunned to feel anything properly, just a cold, numbing kind of denial sinking deeper and deeper into your skin.

He called you last night. Said he loved you. Told you he couldn’t wait to see you in your dress, to grow old with you, to bicker over what to name your third cat when you were both in your eighties. He told you he was ready. So why now? Why this morning? Why wait until the violins were tuned, until the guests had taken their seats, until you were already in the damn dress?

Was he just nervous? Did he get cold feet? Did something happen? Or was it all a lie? every word, every kiss, every “forever” he whispered into your neck when you couldn’t sleep?

You don’t remember how you ended up in the park. Still in your wedding dress. Heels off, bouquet discarded somewhere behind you on a bench.

People walk by, confused or sympathetic. Some offer awkward one-liners “Hang in there,” or “You’re too beautiful for him anyway” and then they keep moving, like their words could fix something shattered.

But you barely hear them. All you can hear are the voices in your head, his voice, your own thoughts, the echo of your name being called in a ceremony that never happened.

And then someone sits beside you.

Jake. One of the groomsmen. His jacket is wrinkled, his tie loosened, hair slightly disheveled like he ran here.

He opens his mouth, starts to speak, then immediately stops and winces. “Are you o—wait, of course you’re not, Jake. Are you dumb?” he mutters to himself.

It almost makes you laugh. Almost.

You glance at him. He looks at you like he’s holding your pain for you. Like he’s trying to shoulder some part of it even though it’s too heavy for anyone.

“I don’t know why he did it, Y/N,” he says softly. “I wish I knew.”

You stare ahead, at nothing in particular. “Did you see him? When he left?”

Jake hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. He was... quiet. Like really quiet. Pale, almost shaking. He didn’t say much. Just looked at me and said, ‘Tell her I’m sorry.’ Then he got in a car. I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “He couldn’t even say it to my face.”

Jake doesn’t reply. There’s nothing to say.

The breeze picks up slightly, rustling the layers of your dress. It feels ridiculous now. Like a costume.

You laugh, finally. Not a happy one. Not even angry. Just empty. “I think I hate him.”

Jake lets out a breath. “You’re allowed to.”

You nod, eyes stinging again. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Jake reaches out, resting his hand gently over yours. “You sit here. You breathe. And when you’re ready… we figure it out together.”

You look down at your hand under his, then up at him. There's no romance in his touch, no hidden motive. Just warmth. Just presence. The thing you needed most.

And for the first time all day, you let yourself lean into someone, just a little.

You didn’t go home that night.

Not to the apartment that still had his toothbrush in the cup beside yours. Not to the fridge filled with champagne for a celebration that never happened. Instead, you let Jake drive you somewhere quiet. A friend’s spare room. Blank walls, neutral colors. Safe.

He stayed with you. Sat on the floor while you sat on the bed, saying nothing. He didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. He just stayed—until you finally lay down and stared at the ceiling in your wedding dress, too drained to undress, too hollow to cry.

The days after were a blur. Texts poured in. Friends, family, people you hadn’t heard from in months. Most of them said the same things: He’s an idiot. You didn’t deserve that. You’re strong. Time heals.

Jake texted too. But differently.

"Eaten anything yet?" "Want me to drive you somewhere just to scream into the wind?" "You don’t have to answer. Just here when you’re ready."

You didn’t know what he was doing, or why he even cared this much. He wasn’t your closest friend before all this. Just a groomsman. One of his college buddies who became part of your orbit. But now, with the groom gone, Jake stayed. Everyone else eventually backed off. He didn’t.

And maybe it was the stillness he brought. Or the way he never made you feel like you were a burden.

Two weeks passed before you finally said yes to a walk.

“I feel like a ghost,” you muttered as you passed the playground you once joked about taking your future kids to.

Jake looked at you, hands deep in his coat pockets. “You’re not a ghost.”

You shrugged. “I feel like one. Like I died that day, and this version of me just doesn’t know where to go.”

He didn’t argue. Just said, “Then maybe you’re haunting the wrong places.”

That made you stop walking.

You looked at him. Really looked.

“What?”

Jake glanced back at you, stepping closer. “You keep walking the same mental roads that lead back to him. The church. The memories. The what-ifs. Maybe you’re stuck because you think you’re supposed to mourn the life you didn’t get.”

You hated how that made sense. Hated how it sat right in your chest like it belonged there.

“So what, I just move on?” you asked. “Pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No,” he said gently. “You remember. You hurt. But you also remind yourself that he didn’t take the best version of you with him.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Your silence was answer enough.

The healing wasn’t instant. There were days you texted Jake just to cry into the phone. Nights you lay awake wondering if he’d call. Mornings where the weight didn’t crush you quite as hard.

And somewhere in all that space between the ache and the quiet, Jake’s presence became something more than comfort.

It started with laughter. Then long talks in parked cars. Then moments where your hands brushed and neither of you pulled away.

But he never rushed you.

And you never rushed to name it.

Because this, whatever it was wasn’t built on the ruins of something broken.