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onlyhuis · 7 months

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can't get you out of my head

member — fwb!vernon x f reader genre — smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count — 2.4k synopsis — so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings — vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes — june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to.

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week.

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long.

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him.

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves.

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own.

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too.

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense.

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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artfromsaturn · 4 months

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Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

#tutorials #art resources #art tutorial #tutorial #txt

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ragingbookdragon · 4 months

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I Do My Hair Toss, Paint My Nails

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I fucking wrote TF fanfiction omg. Enjoy! -Thorne

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Ironhide:

It’s only the fourth glance she takes out the window that has her nail tech snorting. “Are you worried someone is going to steal your boyfriend’s truck?”

She startles at his words, barely missing the drill bit going into her skin around her nail as she replies, “Huh?”

“You keep looking at the truck,” he says. “It’s your boyfriend’s, isn’t it?”

Her cheeks begin to warm as she swipes a fifth glance at the black GMC. “What makes you say it’s my boyfriend’s? It could be mine.”

“Please. You work in private security. And I know you drive a pink Porsche.” He takes his own look at the truck. “It’s a nice one. It is your boyfriend’s, right?”

“Something like that,” she replies as he dips the brush into the acrylic and begins to lay it over her nails.

He snorts again. “Okay, Miss Mysterious, keep it secret.”

She gives a smile as he continues to work on her nails and she admires them when they’re done, a sleek black stiletto. “Thank you, Ray.”

Giving a mock bow, he replies, “I do my best. Now off with you.”

Waving, she steps outside and nears the driver’s side of the truck, only to be caught off by a sports car slowing to a stop beside her.

“Hey baby,” the man greets, practically hanging outside of the window. “Where you headed?”

She blinks, offering a deadened stare and grips the door handle. “Nowhere you are. Have a nice day.”

“Now don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he replies with a smirk and starts to get out, but he stops when the truck rumbles with a violent noise. “What the fuck?”

“Easy, Ironhide,” she murmurs, and opens the driver’s door. “Have a lovely day.” Shutting and locking the door, she’s thankful that Ironhide’s windows are tinted and watches as the car pulls away in a hurry.

“You okay?” Ironhide asks. “I can always blast their tailpipe in.”

She laughs. “Thank you, but I think they got the message.”

“Hmm, I disagree, but I’ll take your word for it,” his voice hums through his speakers as he pulls off onto the street. “What did you do in there? You were gone for an hour and a half.”

“Oh, I got my nails painted!” she chirps and flashes her hands down. “See, I painted them black like your paint.”

This time, Ironhide rumbles but it’s with a subtle pride as he compliments, “As beautiful as my weapons, love.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and leans forward, pressing her lips to the center of the steering wheel. “How about we take a drive out of the city?”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he replies and turns off to the main highway pointing out of the city.

***

Rachet:

“I do not understand the process of painting your nails,” Rachet comments as he watches her gently apply a mustard yellow to her nails.

“Which part don’t you understand, big guy?” she replies, not looking up, focusing intently.

“Perhaps it is more so I don’t understand why.”

“Why?”

He nods and gets closer, staring at her hands. “Why are you painting them?”

She looks up at him. “Why me specifically or why do humans paint nails?”

Rachet takes a moment to ponder her question. “Both.”

Sticking her hand under the small gel light, she answers, “Most people paint their nails as a form of self-expression. Others do so as it’s fashionable. Some just do manicures and pedicures to stay groomed. Think of it like you and the others maintaining your own bodies and staying in good condition.” She starts on the other hand when the first is cured. “Some cultures have historic context with painting nails or the length of nails and it’s symbolic to their people.”

“And what of you?” he asks.

“I guess mine is more so expression and maintenance. I work a lot so I can’t always have my nails maintained the way I want, y’know painted and with length. But I always try to keep them clean and nice looking.” She smiles as she paints a red line through them. “Sometimes I’m lucky enough that I get to paint them pretty.”

At that, Rachet tips his head a bit to see. “I’m no human but I do not think red and yellow are technically considered ‘pretty.’”

She gives him a fond look and pokes his nose with her cured pointer. “Really? Because I painted them to look like a similar Autobot I know. Or did you forget you’re red and yellow?”

He coughs slightly and looks away. “Well, now that you mention such a thing.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re flustered, Rachet.”

“Nonsense,” he retorts as he stands up straight, and she has to crane her neck to see him. “Autobots don’t get flustered.”

“I think you’re leaking oil, big guy,” she teases, and he turns hurriedly, patting himself down.

“What! Where!”

“I’m joking,” she says with a grin. “Still set on not being embarrassed?”

***

Bumblebee:

She sits at the station next to Bumblebee as he fumbles with the metal Rubik’s cube she had made for him. “What color should I paint my nails, Bee?” she asks, opening the case, and she really shouldn’t be painting her nails at work, but considering most of the higher ups are in meetings and the facility is a ghost town, she doesn’t have much to do.

Bumblebee looks down, optics zooming in on each color she lifts up for him to see.

“I’ve got blue…red…black…ooo, what about green?” she offers a deep evergreen up and he scowls and shakes his head. “No?”

He sticks a finger into the case and carefully digs around until he pulls out a tiny tube and hands it to her.

“This one?” she asks and looks at the bottle. “Sunrise Yellow,” she says and looks at him. “It matches you.”

This time he gives her a smile of pride and hands her the black bottle as well, gesturing to her middle and ring fingers.

“You want these ones painted black and the others yellow?”

“Yeah baby!” the line from a comedy movie comes over his voice and she snorts.

“Okay, Bee,” she answers and opens the bottles. “Nails that look like you coming up.” she watches as he grins to himself and dances slightly. “You keep it up, Bee, and everyone is going to know you like me.” She pauses and looks at her hands with a deadpan stare. “Actually, they’re going to think I like you.”

He bends down and gets face to face with her. “You do like me.” The words are easy enough to decipher in his rumbles and she looks away.

“Get outta heeya,” she mocks with warm cheeks, and he laughs at her. “Hey, you better stop laughing at me, or do you not remember how you practically tripped over yourself when I wore a dress the other day and you weren’t paying attention. Ran right into the high-beam and maintenance is still working on fixing it.”

At that, his battle visors come down and he hides his face as embarrassed rumbles escape him; she takes the opportunity to slide up onto his leg and sit with a smile as she paints her nails.

***

Optimus:

She greets the soldiers around her with a smile as she enters the facility and wanders back to her desk to set her things down. It’s only a few moments before Lennox finds his way to her desk and simply stands in front of it until she looks up. “Good morning, Will.”

“You’re late,” he retorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “We had training this morning. And you missed it.”

“And I think you forget I was transferred to private security.” She smiles amusedly. “I don’t work for the military anymore.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you get out and you turn into a completely different person.”

“I am not. Excuse me for enjoying not waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to go running.” She turns on her computer and sorts some paperwork on her desk. “I had an appointment if it appeases your annoyance, your royal eminence.”

“Oh, it’s not me that needs to be appeased. It’s a certain Autobot that was worried about your lateness,” he teases as she feels her cheeks heat up.

She gives him a surprised but pleasant look. “Optimus was worried about me?”

She knows she’s said too much when Lennox’s face splits into a smirk and he gloats, “I fuckin’ knew it was Optimus. Epps thought it was Sideswipe.” His grins grows as she throws her pen at him and he saunters off with, “Guys owe me fifty.”

A few minutes pass as the embarrassment begins to fade when a noise startles her and she lets out a groan and gripes, “William, go awa—Optimus!” she hides her files on her desk as if it will take away the fluster she feels. “I—I didn’t know you were there.”

The Autobot leader bends down to get level with her. “You weren’t at training this morning,” he notes, and she can’t help how her neck disappears into her shoulders.

“I was busy…I had an appointment.”

“Oh?” He blinks, blue optics watching her carefully. “Was it a medical appointment? Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” she replies. “I went to go get my nails done.”

He blinks again, this time almost confused as he asks, “Your…nails?”

She shows her hands, and he lowers his, gently taking both of hers in one; they only rest on one finger as he examines them. “In human culture, men and women paint their finger and toenails different colors. It’s called manicure and pedicure. I have acrylic nails. Made from acrylic glass and hardened with a liquid monomer. It creates a hardened surface that can be drilled and painted. Like mine.”

Optimus looks them over before he murmurs almost uncharacteristically quiet, “They are painted like my paint.”

Her cheeks warm and she looks away. “I…know we can’t exactly be open…people wouldn’t understand but…I just thought it would be a romantic gesture I guess.”

“I am honored,” he says with a smile. “They are painted beautifully…like you.”

“Optimus,” she replies with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

#transformers bayverse #bayverse transformers #ironhide #rachet #bumblebee #optimus prime #optimus #ironhide x reader #rachet x reader #bumblebee x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime x reader #transformers x reader #transformers

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angelltheninth · 5 months

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If you’re still taking requests how do you feel a about Modern Mizu? If you’re interested in that setting could you do one in which both the reader and Mizu are in college and they get paired together for a project? Could be the reader is super shy but has a huge crush on Mizu and this is the perfect chance for them to get to know each other but the reader keeps stumbling on her words or blushes whenever Mizu looks at her 😂 oooh what if after one of their project sessions they didnt finish what they were supposed to do so then Mizu suggets they meet up for coffee tomorrow and run by some ideas and the reader agrees and Mizu is like “great, its a date” gosh the backflips my little heart would do lol. If you like this request and would like to do it then awesome and thank you! If not that’s cool too and i hope you have an awesome day! 💖

Funny I was talking to @multi-fandom-imagine about modern Mizu. Check out her Mizu imagines too cause they kinda inspired these.

Pairing: College!Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, college au, studying together, coffee date, secret crushes, shy!Reader

A/N: Mizu brainrot is still strong. Also reminder that I appreciate the reblogs/comments, it lets me know that you enjoy my content.

College!Mizu keeps to herself and her small, very small, circle of friends. She is mostly focused on her studies and her various competitions, martial arts and swordsmanship. She's more passionate about those then her studies.

College!Mizu is very popular on campus. The target of many crushes, many confessions, bit never reciprocating them. She doesn't try to get attention, she really doesn't but it seems to follow her where ever she goes. That include attention from you.

College!Mizu was surprised when you approached her for the upcoming class project. Little did she know it took all of your courage to do so. She planned to do this with one of her friends but since you asked she'd feel bad refusing, she has seen you struggling a little in this particular class.

College!Mizu invites herself over to your place pretty casually. But don't you worry, she brings snacks. Explains why she asked for your favorites earlier that day. She was amused by how flustered you got trying to settle on just one so she brought more than one snack.

College!Mizu gets entirely too close to you, making it impossible for you to focus on the project. Try as you might you keep looking at her rather than focusing on the task at hand. Because of this time passes without you getting much done at all.

College!Mizu isn't oblivious to why you're so distracted. Her suspicions are only confirmed when she asks you to meet up for coffee and your eyes suddenly light up. When she puts her number into your phone you can't help but get the biggest smile on your face.

College!Mizu texts you the very next day asking if you're available tonight. She was so shocked by how quickly you replied, but also a lot more talkative through texts then in person. She even sent you a picture of herself so you could figure out what to wear to your date.

College!Mizu was a little bit late because of her swordsmanship practice but she did let you know in advance. Besides you don't mind waiting because she did send you a picture while on break. You never knew how pretty she looked with her hair down.

College!Mizu enjoys taking a break from everything and just talking to someone with nothing impending happening. Yes, there's the project but you have lots of time. Truth be told she wanted to see what you were like when you're casual with her.

College!Mizu is well aware that she can be a little bit intimidating at first, so breaking the ice like this will be good for the two of you if you're gonna work together in the future. For that to go smoothly she needed to get to know you better and she can't do that when you're constantly staring at her, too shy to say anything.

College!Mizu hopes that you'll learn to be more relaxed around her as time goes on. Maybe even work up the courage to confess, cause she's been secretly waiting for it since your first shared class together.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #bes #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #bes x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #mizu imagine #bes imagine #blue eye samurai headcanons #mizu headcanons #bes headcanons #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai fluff #mizu fluff #bes fluff #college au #x female reader

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pinkacademiaprincess · 7 months

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“she’s like a real life elle woods…”

fictional study icons guide, part 2: elle woods

relentlessly chase your goals

similar to rory, elle set her sights on harvard law and let nothing get in her way. people doubted her, she had no background in law, and nevertheless she made it happen. having a goal and wanting something is one thing, but you have to make it happen. elle spoke with an academic counselor, created a plan for herself, and meticulously checked off all the requirements. you can’t just sit around and hope you get what you want! determine the end goal, outline all the steps that you need to take to get there, and get to it.

have faith in yourself

throughout the process of getting into and attending harvard law, elle dealt with so many people who doubted her, were mean, and underestimated her. if she listened to all those people, she never would have applied or stayed in law school. no one knows you like you know yourself, so do not let strangers’ negative opinions of you rule your life. people assumed elle was unintelligent and not fit for law school, but she knew that she could succeed and she did. no one decides what you can or can’t do but you. tune out any criticism that isn’t constructive, focus on your strengths, and seek your goals.

let your personality shine

elle always had a strong sense of self. even when she started going to law school, in a totally new environment from her previous college, she stayed true to her personality. she continued dressing in pink outfits, getting her hair & nails done, and got school supplies to match her girly aesthetic. when you go to class, let your personality show through your outfits, accessories, school supplies - find little ways to bring yourself happiness through self- expression. especially when school and classes might seem to rule your life, these small personal touches will help keep you positive.

study with others

elle used the tactic of studying with others to help stay focused & accountable. when she was studying for the lsat, she had one of her sorority sisters keep her on track & practice with her. for some, it can be helpful to “body double,” or to have someone else with you while you study/ work to keep you on task. it might also help to have a study buddy to quiz you and work through problems together. at harvard she also tries to join a study group, which shows she generally thrives when studying/ working in a group setting. if this is something that works for you, find a classmate or group of classmates willing to meet up & body double or study together!

stay active

nowadays, a lot of schooling requires you to either sit at a laptop or hunch over notes for countless hours of your day. being seated for so long with questionable posture is not good for you, humans are meant to be active! elle is shown walking on a treadmill while she studies, and combining physical activity with schoolwork can be really effective for some. engaging your body while engaging your mind might help you focus better. otherwise, try to get some daily movement to give your body a break from being stiff & seated. find physical activity that you enjoy - going for walks outdoors, taking a sports class, hitting the gym, doing a youtube workout video, playing music & dancing like a maniac - move your body and have fun with it! in the words of elle, “exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy.”

pet therapy!

elle woods is always accompanied by her beloved chihuahua bruiser. spending time with animals is a great way to boost your mood & relieve stress. if you have a pet, spending time with them, petting them, having them in your lap or nearby are all ways you can take advantage of their presence to feel happier & more relaxed.

that’s all! elle is such an inspiration to me tbh. she really embodies that being true to yourself & being kind to others are the keys to success. good luck in your studies! 🩷

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lucyandthepen · 3 months

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last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off.

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it��s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately.

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.

“You love me, right?”

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smile slightly. “No but?”

“No but,” he agrees.

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.

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blckbrrybasket · 2 months

Text

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐩 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Soap listens to The Northern Boys religiously.

- Soap is a firm believer in gold star stickers. He can and will be bribed with them.

- Soap has the coldest feet known to mankind and constantly puts them on everyone. No one is safe.

- Soap will do something dumb or cheeky and grin at someone until they notice what he did. (Ghost is usually the victim of this)

- Soap jumps up and smacks the door frame even when he can just reach up to tap it. He stumbles more times than not when he does this. (Ghost comes behind him and just raises his arm to hit the frame)

- Soap is an avid apple juice lover, but NEVER eats whole apples. He’ll strictly eat apple slices or drink apple juice.

- Soap mindlessly does the angry mom lips when he’s focused on something or spacing out. He also sticks the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth but accidentally bites it.

- At night Soap stretches and sticks his feet out of the blankets then jerks them back because ��something might touch grab in the night.’ When he was a kid he refused to get off the bed at night so the ‘bed monster’ wouldn’t get him. He stills shuts the lights off and runs to his room.

- Soap turns around all the stuffed animals you own when you’re going to have sex. He also covers their eyes, or where their ears would be, at anything he deems to be unholy. Most the time its when you’re playfully cursing at him.

- Sprawls out on any surface; floor, bed, couch, you name it and his entire body is covering it. Even you. He’s a big guy, perfect to be your blanket! (Please let him be your blanket he gets so happy when you do)

SFW (serious)

- Soap was catholic for a long time as a kid. He had a hard time sitting still during services which led to him getting into trouble often. Nowadays he still labels himself as Catholic but he doesn’t actively practice anymore. He isn’t sure if he can after what he’s done in the battlefield. If Soap took the time to sit down he’d realize he isn’t very religious, but he still wears a cross necklace. He feels like he needs to.

- While he likes keeping things lighthearted he understands the importance of being serious. If you have a problem he jumps on trying to fix it immediately, slipping a joke or two to lighten the mood, but he never undermines your feelings.

- When he gets home from being deployed he needs to take the first day to be near you. If you’re on the bed or couch you will not be getting up for hours. When you do he has his arms around your waist and shuffles after you. Soap is a lot quieter, but is usually closer back to normal the next day. He needs to grow back into being himself at home.

- Soap enjoys being the funny friend but when he slowly realizes to some people that’s all he’ll ever be he hates it. He so badly wants to be seen as a multilayered human being, but he feels that he’ll only be seen as the “funny/impulsive one.” Soap isn’t proud of his impulse issues. It reminds him of his dad.

- Soap is a huge family man. Lots of sisters, close to his mum, yet when his dad left he wasn’t too torn up. There were too many mixed feelings to navigate it. Some nights when he was younger he laid awake loathing his dad for leaving. Other nights he wanted the ideal version of his dad that had once been in his head to be real. No one took the absence easy, but if he said it didn’t bother him still, he’d be lying.

- ADHD. He was undiagnosed as a kid and got into trouble frequently, but when it didn’t go away it became a problem. Eventually he was diagnosed with ADHD and it explained some of it. Soap has trouble navigating with it. He can be too upfront sometimes and has scared off a few people by not picking up on social cues. Soap truly doesn’t mean to and it becomes one of those memories he thinks of late at night, filled with regret. On those nights he longs to be ‘normal’ or adjacent to.

NSFW

- Soap is the easiest to get hard out of 141. He has a high sex drive, but not to the point its overbearing. You want to fuck? He’s always down.

- He’s also the most open to new things. Soap tends to get rough sometimes, but he always knows the line. Anytime he wants to be rough he walks through whats good and not. It’s honestly funny seeing him clasp his hands on his lap all serious like when he asks if he can fuck you rough.

- He craves to hit it raw. This man is the definition of “doggy style, sideways, frontwards, upwards, backwards, upside down, tilted, 69, from the back, 360 degrees no condoms, skin on skin.”

- Give him an inch and he’s running a mile. You mention a toy you want or a kink you want to try out? He’s on it!

- Soap does have a small secret though…and if you request for him to dress up in a pretty lingerie set you’d discover it. The delicate lace straining against his bulging muscles as he squirms to not rip or tear it. Chefs. Kiss. It’s one of the quickest ways to get him to sub. He’s so pretty he doesn’t want to go to waste!

- He’s lowkey nasty - in the way that if your makeup or hair isn’t wrecked he hasn’t done a good enough job. Soap doesn’t care how ‘messy’ you look in his eyes you are as beautiful as ever. When tears of pleasure collect in your eyes he could cum from that alone.

- Have I mentioned yet that he can cum untouched? It’s happened multiple times where you’ve talked a big game only to end up in bed with him shooting ropes of cum across the sheets at you kissing his neck. Don’t worry though, he recovers quickly and has stamina for days. He would never leave you hanging.

- He does aftercare, there’s no way would he wouldn’t, but he also is quick to fall asleep. Once he’s set you up and made sure you’re doing the best you can he’s out. If you turn away for one second you’ll hear snores coming from your side, where he lays on the bed.

#call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish smut #call of duty headcanons #soap headcanons #headcanons

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sunraies · 1 year

Text

Broken Glass

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings - blood, mentions of feeling sick, fluff, moodswinging Rafe.

You have a hard shift at the country club, and it gets worse when you have to clean up Rafe Cameron's mess.

A scene from season 2 is used.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Working at the country club meant dealing with obnoxious, rich people. Demanding everything to be done for them, right there and then with a smile on your face.

Most days, you could do it. Providing excellent service with a smile, but as the day dragged on, it became harder and harder to do. Saturday shifts were always a nightmare.

The members who had been enjoying the club during the day loved to spend the evening drinking at the club's main bar. A lot of the younger Kooks enjoyed the atmosphere on a Saturday night.

With champagne practically on tap and beer flowing more freely than water as black cards and 100 dollar bills were placed on the tables, it was a busy night.

You could see Rafe getting more and more energetic in whatever he was explaining to Kelce and Topper. You sighed as Topper stopped serving as soon as his friends arrived, leaving you to cover for him managing drinks and inpatient, drunk people.

As he put his beer down on the bar, he leant back, making fake gun noises with a grin.

Rafe looked more relaxed than usual, most likely from the alcohol and whatever drugs he'd done that day running through his veins.

He kept moving backwards, nudging into another member behind him. They were getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"Do you mind?" Bob had enough after the third time of being bumped into.

"I'm sorry?" Rafe span around to him, his smile suddenly gone.

"Do you mind?"

Rafe stared at him for a moment before leaning in closer. "Yeah, I do mind, Bob."

Bob blinked and nodded, looking deeply offended as he turned away for a second.

"Take a shot with me, pussy" Rafe picked up, the nearest shot glass and began pouring it over Bob's hand "Come on. Take a shot."

"Hey, come on, man." Topper tried to defuse the situation, but it escalated quickly as Bob jumped to his feet.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" He snapped and pushed Rafe's shoulder back, making Rafe stumble and knock over glasses on the bar. Smashing multiple in the process.

"Take a seat. That's what you need to do!" Rafe pushed him back harder, causing him to fall back into his chair in complete shock.

Bob was one of the nicest members, always polite and tipping well. He even got on with Rafe when he golfed with Ward. You'd seen Rafe angry before but to snap at Bob like that was a new level.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Kelce jumped up and pulled Rafe back as he squared up to Bob. Topper tried to get between them, but he wasn't much use, with the bar in the way.

Everyone around had gone silent, watching the exchange unfold. You hurried over from your side of the bar to Topper's, throwing a towel down over the broken glass and spilt drinks.

Kelce desperately tried to get Rafe to move away, repeating his name softly as Bob called for the manager.

"Eat shit!" Rafe pointed at him over Kelce's shoulder.

"Look at me. Look at me." Kelce sounded calm but clearly worried about Rafe.

"What?" He snapped, looking from Bob to Kelce as he breathed heavily.

"Calm down, alright?

"No one will drink with us, man,"

"I swear to god - Hey!" Kelce slapped his cheek lightly as Rafe looked around in a dazed.

Whatever he was telling Rafe, you didn't hear as you focused on cleaning up the mess of broken glass. Kelce seemed to have him under control as Bob was taken care of by another co-worker.

"Careful," Topper said as you used the towel to wipe the broken glass into the bin.

"I got it, Top"

"Just watch the big -"

"I said I fuckin' got it, Top" you snapped.

Normally, you got on with him. You could easily call him a friend. He was actually a sweetheart, and once you got to know him, you felt bad for the guy who had his heartbroken by Sarah Cameron.

But you were already stressed as it had been a day of cleaning up messes from having no lunch break on a 12 hour shift due to the lunch rush and the trash bags breaking on trash duty, leaving a disgusting stain of bin juice on your white sneakers. This was the icing on the shitty work cake. Cleaning up Rafe Cameron's fucking mess.

"Go check on your boy," you nodded towards Rafe and Kelce.

Topper looked from you to them and back again. He nodded before checking on Bob first. Seeing if he could win him over with his charm, free whisky, and the best hours for the golf course tomorrow.

You shook your head as it seemed to work. Good job Steve, the main manager wasn't in that night as Rafe would be out on his ass and Topper's job with it.

"Hey Topper! Come on, " Rafe called over to him with a smile back on his face. "Let's go, man."

He waved him over as he headed towards the door. Topper looked at you, and you sighed

"Go, I'll cover."

"You're the best." Topper smiled and quickly kissed your temple before throwing off his apron.

Rafe pointed at you as he walked backwards. "Put it on, Cameron! Add a round for everyone"

You had to laugh. One minute, he was ready to fight sweet Bob, and the next, he was offering to buy everyone drinks. He even had the cheek to wink at you. Luckily, it was towards the end of the night, so it wasn't a massive round.

As you shook your head at his wink, with a small smile, you felt a sudden sharp pain across your palm. Looking down, a large piece of glass had pierced through the towel and cut across your skin.

You stared at it for a moment before looking away and swallowing. You hated the sight of your own blood. It always made you queasy.

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered, blinding grabbing napkins beside you and covering your hand before hurrying out to the kitchens.

It was dark, but you managed to make it over to the sink and winced as you ran your hand under the water. You tried to be brave and look at the damage before you just couldn't.

As you felt the tears welling in the cover of your eyes, the lights came on. Every little stress of the day had finally gotten too much.

"I'm fine, Top," You called, not looking over. You knew he had seen it happen. He'd been smiling goodbye, trying to push Rafe out the door as he walked backwards.

"He's says you don't like blood," Rafe's voice appeared instead, "and he's shit with it too"

You quickly wiped your eyes with your clean hand and glanced over your shoulder at him. "I'm ok, Rafe." You sighed. "You're not meant to be back here"

You really didn't have the energy to deal with him. Since working with Topper, you'd grown a civil relationship with his friends. But Rafe was still the Pogue hating Kook King. You tolerated each other when you were working or invited to one of Topper's parties.

"Says who?" He smirked, moving closer.

"The sign on the door. Or can't you read?"

"I can read perfectly well, sweetheart"

"You don't own the country club, you know that, right?"

He shrugged. "Close to it." He seemed uninterested as he started looking in cupboards.

"Whatever you are looking for. Stop." You took a glance at your hand again and winced as the water was still a little red.

"Any. Anything goes missing, and it's my job on the line." You stumbled on your words a little as you closed your eyes tight. Taking deep breaths, you tried not to break in front of him.

"You know where the first aid kit is?" He was still slamming doors, but he sounded sober.

"Uh, under the sink." You moved to get it, but he suddenly had his hands on your hips, gently moving you to the side.

"Keep rinsing it, no pressure in case there's still glass in there." He bent down beside you and rummaged through the cupboard.

All you could do was nod, grateful in your haze that you'd remember some of your first aid training. Being the only first aider on shift and unable to handle your own blood wasn't ideal.

Once he found it, he quickly checked the supplies in the small box. You watched him, welcoming the distraction from staring at the wall. He nodded to himself as he seemed satisfied that it would do before pulling out the necessary items.

"Can I look at your hand?" He sounded so gentle as he turned off the water. You glanced down to see how bad it was, but with no water, all you saw was a bloody palm.

"It's ok, you don't have to look at it," He said softly, ever so carefully taking your hand in his. His hand was warm and soft, his touch delicate as he wiped the blood away.

You hissed in a pain as he muttered an apology. "How bad is it?"

"Well, I think we may have to stitch it"

"Oh, fuck no!" You tried to pull your hand away as he laughed.

"I'm joking, baby," Rafe chuckled, "butterfly strips will do. A bit of gauze and bandage, you'll be good to go"

You hit his shoulder. "Not funny"

"Your face was a little." He had been calling you all sorts of nicknames for a while, so the 'baby' didn't faze you.

You sat on the workside after he made you while he gently put the butterfly stripes on. Once the gauze was over it you could finally look.

"Where did you learn all this?

"I was a life guard for a summer. My dad thought it would make me more responsible."

"Seemed to have worked." You smiled as you watched him place your hand on your lap while he grabbed the bandages.

"Not really." He shrugged, taking your hand in his again. "I spent most of the summer smoking behind the pool house and hooking up with any hot chick who looked my way."

You hummed. "Sounds like a fun summer"

He nodded and gave you a wicked smile. "Oh, it was."

"What happened out there with Bob?" You dared to ask. He seemed like a completely different Rafe.

"Shit with my dad," He muttered, but that was all he was going to give you.

You watched as he was so gentle in wrapping your hand. Who knew Rafe Cameron could be so delicate?

"To tight?" He asked, looking up at you. His blue eyes gave you a look as gentle as his hands.

You couldn't help the way your cheeks burned a little as you shook your head. Nope, you couldn't have a crush on Rafe. Nope, Nope, Shit.

"Perfect," you breathed as you found your words.

"Right." He nodded, still holding your hand in his warm one, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your wrist "Perfect"

Your eyes moved from his, to his lips and back again, you caught him as his eyes copied. He leaned it a fraction more as you seemed to be drawn forward.

"How is the patient?" Topper burst through the doors, pushing them wide open as he made his wonderfully timed entrance.

"Fine, Fine," you said at the same time as Rafe had quickly moved away, rubbing the back of his head while you swung your legs.

Topper looked between the pair of you before clapping his hands together. "Well, our shifts are over. Alan is on lock up duty. Kelce heard that Cassey is throwing a party. What do you say?"

"I should probably head home." You still felt a little queasy. But you were unsure if it was from the blood or the realisation of your feelings.

"Booze are the best medicine!" Kelce appeared behind Topper

"I'm sure they are, Kel," you hopped down, "but I really just want to lay down"

You did look a little unwell, Topper realised once you headed towards him. He held your arms gently and looked over your face. "Alright, let's get you home"

"I'll take her home," Rafe offered, his eyes moving from staring at Topper's hands on you.

"You've been drinking," You pointed out, looking over your shoulder at him

"Fair point." He thought for a moment. "Top will take you home." He slung an arm over your shoulders, "and we'll come with. Right, Kelce?"

"I actually didn't have that man -" Kelce started before Rafe cut him off with a look. "Oh, no, right. Yeah. I had too many. We'll take you home in Top's Jeep"

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks

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calypsocolada · 1 month

Text

MR. CHAINSAW MAN | denji

synopsis: chainsaw man saves you and you feel very thankful... request: "hi! can i ask for a denji one? like, one where he and the reader (fem!) are classmates and friends, it's late at night and they're texting, then the reader says 'me after saying i would give chainsaw man a big fat kiss if he asked' and denji is all shocked and stuff because she said that to him (but she doesnt even know he's chainsaw man) and the next day at school he acts all weird and giddy?" authors note: hii!! thank you so much to whoever requested this... this one goes to you! this turned out a lot longer than I thought... also this is another attempt at smut... big emphasis on attempt... i hope you all enjoy! ps. this could be a two parter if you all enjoy... keep an eye out cw: aged up to 20's, p in v, smut, fem reader, loss of virginites (both reader and denji), dirty talk, some gore, utterly romantic!denji, idiots in love, slightly clueless reader, touch starved!denji, not proofread wc: 5.4k

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It started with a simple act of service. Well… a simple act of saving your life. When you were younger you idolized heroes. The ones in the tv to be exact. Heroes in cloaks and tights, the ones that swung from buildings and punched alien invaders into outer space. Those heroes were cool but those heroes weren’t real. The hero that you saw on the television a few months ago, the one that was practically a celebrity… that one was nothing like the fictional heroes you loved dearly. Chainsaw Man he called himself. He was exactly what his name was, a man with chainsaws on his body. Most of the time he fought devils the fight wasn’t shown on live tv because of how gruesome and bloody the scenes were after he was done. But you saw pictures online and to say it might’ve haunted your dreams was an understatement. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about this Chainsaw Man.

That was until you met him.

You’d been walking home when it happened. Your classmate Denji was walking with you earlier but you two parted ways the closer you got to your house.

Denji was… unruly.

You were forced to partner up with him on a project. Denji was brash, loud and certainly had zero qualms with asking for your number the second you walked over to him to talk about the project. You gave him your number but asked that he only text about the project… which he didn’t do. He texted you pretty much every hour. He’d send memes that unfortunately were pretty funny. He’d text pictures of himself working out and then say it was an accident. He sent a picture of a hamburger once and said he was thinking of you. You weren’t really sure what that meant but the hamburger did look pretty delicious. He’d ask how your day was and ask to meet for lunch. You’re not entirely sure how it happened but suddenly you two were somewhat friends.

Which is why when you saw multiple reports of devil sightings in your area you texted him and asked if he would walk you home after class since you two were getting dinner after and it would be dark when you walked home. He readily agreed. And he took it very seriously. His head was on a swivel the entire walk home, you could barely get a conversation going because of how focused he was on keeping a look out for devils. It was… endearing.

“Okay… that’s far enough.” You said as your street came into view. Denji looked over at you.

“Isn’t your house just a bit farther?”

“Yes but… if my dad or mom see you walking me home they’ll kill me.” You say, a bit embarrassed. You were in college but you still really feared what your parents thought of you. They were currently trying to set you up with a boy from their church and if they saw you walking home with a trouble maker like Denji they might push you harder towards that other boy.

“You sure?” Denji asked, cocking his head slightly, his hair falling slightly from his forehead.

“Yeah… Don’t worry.” You smile. “Thanks for walking me home.” For a moment Denji doesn’t respond, his eyes glued to your lips, a blush spreading across the tops of his cheeks and nose. “Denji?”

“Huh? Oh…! Y-yeah that’s no problem. If you want I can walk you home everyday until I die.” He rambles and then blushes even brighter at his clearly not well thought out words. You let out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.” You say, walking towards your house, turning and waving when you turn down your street. You glance back a last time, blushing as you watch Denji turn to leave. You’d never much thought about Denji in the ways that were seeping into your brain now. You turned to walk towards your house and wondered if it would’ve been so bad letting Denji walk you the rest of the way. You felt safe with him on the walk home. Suddenly your phone dinged in your pocket. You grabbed it, clicking open the message.

Denji (from psych): text me when you get home, okay?

Your heart tumbled around in your chest at the message. Just as you went to text back it all sort of happened so fast. It was dark out and you heard the approach before you spotted the thing. Whatever it was it was fast and had snatched you off your feet before you could even blink. The scream that escaped you died in your throat as you were dragged off towards the forest near your house. Your hands flailed out, grasping for anything to hold onto as claws dug into your ankles as it tugged at you. You screamed as the thing paused and that's when you were able to turn and look at it. Just as something revved and the damned thing holding you was split completely in half. The nails that dug into it released and you scrambled back until your back hit hard against a tree. You watched the creature burst apart and something emerge from behind it. Chainsaw’s glinted in the moonlight. You screamed at the sight as the man who saved you ran to you, gently clamping a hand over your mouth.

“Shh. Shh… It’s okay.” The voice that left the monstrous thing’s mouth was surprisingly gentle. You knew instantly who you were looking at. The hero from the news broadcasts. The Chainsaw Man that killed devils.

“Fuck… what… uh,” You breathed out, your voice ragged from screaming, tears wet against your cheeks.

“Are you hurt?” Chainsaw Man asked. His hands on your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You stared at him dumbfoundedly. Seeing him this close was… strange. Uncanny… you felt as though maybe that devil from earlier had killed you and you were dead. “Y/n-- eh… M-miss, are you okay?” He asked again, you swallowed, wide eyed.

“Uh-- I think… so.” You forced out as Chainsaw Man sighed with relief.

“Let’s get you home then, can you stand?” He asked, moving back slightly. The Chainsaws that once enveloped his hands were no longer there… just regular hands that reached out to pull you to your feet. You shook as you let him pull you to your feet.

“Ah-- fuck… my ankles.” You hissed in pain, forgetting that the devil from before had dug its claws in you. Chainsaw man reacted quickly as you wavered on your feet and swept you off them into his arms. You gasped in surprise.

“I’ll get you to a hospital.” He said. He carried you like you weighed nothing and as the adrenaline and fear calmed in your chest you couldn’t help but slightly blush at the moment. “Do you have your phone on you?” He asked, you nodded your head, unable to say anything. He clicked a few buttons and you heard the sound of a text sending.

“What? Did you text someone?”

“I texted a friend of yours to meet you at the hospital.” He explained.

You didn’t work up the courage to speak until the lights of the hospital came into view. He lowered you into the grass as you looked up at him.

“What’re you doing?” You asked as the hero backed up towards the forest.

“Your friend will meet you here and take you the rest of the way… I don’t want to startle anyone else.” He said.

“W-wait!” You called out, he paused, looking back at you. “Thank you… You saved my life.” You gushed, smiling thankfully up at him. The cool facade this man wore moments ago faded in an instant. He tripped over his feet the moment he saw you smile and fell back into the woods. You startled. “Mr. Chainsaw Man… are you okay?!” You called out, unable to go to him. He stood quickly.

“Of course! Damn branches jumped out at me.” He kicked at the ground, clearing his throat. “And… you’re welcome… don’t walk home alone anymore Miss… it would be better to walk with a friend. A male friend…” He specified as you slowly nodded your head.

“Uhm… okay.” You said as he backed into the woods.

“Yeah… a strong one… the friend of yours I texted looks strong so… yeah maybe him.” Chainsaw Man said as you nodded your head, an amused smile growing on your face.

“Thank you again.” You said. Again the devil killer tripped and this time disappeared in the brush.You stared for a moment. “Chainsaw man?” You called out. Squinting into the darkness. Suddenly someone stumbled out from the woods startling you.

“Ah! There you are! I-- I uh got a text that said you’d be here!” Denji said, running over to you. You gasped, relieved.

“Oh! Denji… thank god!” You said and when he got close you pulled him into your body, hugging him tightly. Denji froze, you felt him stiffen. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable but it was so nice seeing a friendly face… although Chainsaw Man wasn’t exactly someone you’d be opposed to see again. When you went to pull away Denji’s arms closed around you and you relaxed.

“What happened?” Denji asked, muffled against your hair. You pull back finally, his hands still holding you loosely.

“A devil attacked me and… and Chainsaw Man saved me.” Even saying it out loud made you feel silly and surely enough Denji would laugh at your words but he didn’t. He looked surprised.

“R-really?” He stuttered as you nodded your head.

“I know it sounds crazy-“

“No… no I believe you.” He says, then seems to remember why he’s here. “We need to get you inside.” He says as you nod your head, not being able to ignore the stinging pain.

“I can try to walk,” you say, trying to push to your feet because surely your classmate couldn’t carry you but… but you’d be wrong.

“No… I got you.” He says and just like Chainsaw Man from before you are lifted with ease into Denji’s arms as he carries you across the way to the lobby of the hospital. “Are you sure you’re okay? Only your ankles got hurt?” He asks as you nod your head. “I— should’ve walked the entire way with you.” He says guiltily. You instant shake your head.

“No… don’t say that. It was my fault I should’ve just let you walk me home.” You say, the exhaustion of the night and the calmness of Denji’s heart made you tired. “Thank you for coming to help me.” You whisper. At that you hear Denji’s heart race.

Your parents picked you up from the hospital. They scolded you the entire way home, saying that the boy who helped you should officially walk you home everyday. You knew Denji wouldn’t mind in fact when you got home around four a.m. and checked your phone you saw a couple texts from him already.

Denji (from psych): sorry I left, I saw your parents and didn’t want to get you in trouble.

Denji (from psych): please text me when you’re home so I can have peace of mind.

You: hey! sorry just got home hopefully you didn’t wait up for me this late.

Denji (from psych): oh thank god. everything went okay?

You: yeah I’m fine! The cuts weren’t too deep. I saw news reports of that same devil that attacked me. It had already killed a few people before me. I got super lucky. Looks like I owe Chainsaw Man a big fat thank you kiss.

You stared at your sent message for a moment, blushing. Why in the world would you say that? You moved your hand over your face. Admitting that you might now have a crush on Chainsaw Man to your classmate had your stomach in knots and you're not entirely sure why. You thought about your other friends and how all of them had crushes on Chainsaw Man but for some reason telling that to Denji made you nervous.

The next morning you checked your phone. Denji had read the text the moment you sent it but didn’t text back. You're not sure why it embarrassed you so much so you thought up a plan that if he asked you’d say you were on pain meds or something. But truthfully… you’d do a lot more for Chainsaw Man if he asked. He saved your life… his voice still swam in your mind. So calming. He was so strong and wasted no time rushing you to help. It was hot. You hadn’t had a crush on someone in a long time and you felt that little flutter in your stomach and knew all too well what it meant. That’s when you heard the doorbell ring. Both of your parents were already gone for the day and you were about to start walking to college.

You opened the front door and to your surprise a blushing Denji was standing there in the rain. You blinked a few times.

“Denji?” You asked, he was soaked through with the rain. For a moment you two just looked at each other. Denji unable to speak just at the sight of you. You smiled slightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Denji?” This seemed to snap him out of whatever stupor he was in as he blinked, sputtering out as he spoke.

“Y-Your mom called me and asked if I could walk you. Didn’t know it would be raining today.” He explained nervously. You stared at him. He was acting very strange.

“Come in.” You ushered him inside which made him act even more nervous. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!! Yes yeah of course yeah I’m good.” He stuttered out. You laughed softly.

“Denji, you're absolutely soaked.” You laughed and he seemed to notice he was dripping wet all over your carpet.

“Oh- oh shit! Sorry!” He went to step back outside but you caught his arm.

“Wait- it’s fine, Denji, really come on in.”

“Your carpet?”

“I don’t care about the carpet.” You smiled with a soft laugh. When you looked at him his eyes were glued to that smile. It made your stomach flip. “I think my mom thought you had a car.” You said after a moment as Denji’s eyes snap up to yours.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” You laughed. “I think… we should skip. What do you think?” You asked as his eyes grew large and he visibly swallowed.

“Really?” He asked as you nodded your head.

“I mean… My legs still hurt a bit and if we walk we’ll probably catch colds… which reminds me you need to get out of those wet clothes.” You said, unknowingly wreaking havoc on Denji’s nervous system. “Come with me,” You said softly. He dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, jogging to catch up with you as you led him to your dad’s room. You grabbed some sweatpants and a t-shirt and handed it to Denji. “Here, change into this and give me your wet clothes so I can toss them in the dryer.” You said. Denji nodded obediently and started to pull off his shirt. You blushed instantly. “Wait.. wait… let me get out of the room.” You laughed as Denji laughed nervously. You closed the door behind you and paused. Your heart in your throat. You blew out a breath, walking towards the kitchen. Denji joined you a few minutes later and you smiled at him as you took his wet clothes and tossed them in the dryer.

“How’re you feeling?” Denji asked.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll probably have a cool scar down there.” You joke but Denji’s face was slightly serious. You wondered if he still felt bad about letting you walk alone and just at the thought you blushed.

“I’m… really sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s just some scratches, Denji.” You reassure him. “I’m really okay.” He looks at you and a moment builds between you two before he swallows and nods his head.

“Thank god I- ah uh… Chainsaw Man got to you fast.” Denji professed as you nodded your head with a wistful sigh.

“Yeah… he’s my savior.” You laugh, walking to sit across from Denji at the counter.

“Savior…” He said softly. “You still gonna give him a big fat thank you kiss?” He asked and suddenly went entirely red, the look on his face told you he hadn’t meant to say that outloud. You let out a surprised laugh.

“I… am not ashamed. I would. He saved my life.” You say earnestly and watch as a lot of stages pass Denji’s face. His dark brown eyes wide. You laughed, shaking your head. “What? I’m hardly the first person to say that. All the girls at school have crushes on Chainsaw Man.” You wave off. Denji suddenly looks overwhelmed and perplexed.

“They… they do?” He asks as you nod your head. He hums in response as though he’s taking this information in. “All the girls?”

“Probably.” You giggle. He clears his throat, looking sort of serious.

“Do… Do you?” He asks.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask teasingly. But it seemed you were right on the money because Denji choked on air, coughing. “I-- I was just joking, Denji.”

“Yeah! Yeah of course…” He said, slightly hiding his face.

“Denji?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you… do you like me?”

“Of course I do!” Denji answers and for a moment you two stare at each other.

“Oh,” You breath out, a violent blush spreading across your face.

“Oh! Oh.. you-- you meant..” Denji hides his face even more and you dissolve into laughter, slightly relieved he misunderstood. You could deal with a crushing on Chainsaw Man because he was unattainable… but Denji… he was here, real. Really seemed to care for you. It made your heart race in ways Chainsaw Man never could.

“Let's… just forget I said anything. Are you hungry?”

“I… yeah I could eat.” Denji forces out. You grab some stuff for you and Denji to snack on and lead him to your room. The entire time Denji is nervously fidgeting and you're not sure his face has stopped being red. You wondered if he was getting sick from walking here in the rain. When you opened the door to your room and walked inside Denji paused in the doorway. You turned back, his eyes were drinking in his surroundings. “Wow… this is cool.” He walked deeper in and immediately went to your manga shelf. “Holy shit!” He said as a warm smile fits to your lips as he looks at all the titles on your shelf. “You like this series?” He asks, pulling out one of your favorite mangas. You smile excitedly, nodding your head. You two gush about the series for a bit as he finally settles a bit. You put on a movie for you two to watch and scoot over, making room for him. He sits sort of uncomfortably as you laugh gently.

“Come on, Denji, I don’t bite.” You say. Denji laughs slightly.

“Of c-course… I’m just not… used to being… alone with a very very pretty girl who said she wants to kiss me.” He struggled with his words. You laughed.

“I never said I wanted to kiss-” The laugh dies on your lips as Denji and your eyes meet. Everything clicks into place there and then and you feel like a fool. “Holy shit.” “Oh fuck.” You and Denji speak in tandem. You continue to stare at each other in shock. Denji realized his mistake with his words.

“Denji…”

“I… I misspoke.”

“No… no you didn’t.” You say, sitting up slightly. Denji jumps to his feet.

“I-- I did!”

“Your… holy shit… Denji are you Chainsaw M-”

“No! No, of course not!” Denji tried to laugh it off but everything started to click into place. After All that calming voice… you’d been hearing it almost everyday. You felt like a complete idiot for not realizing. Then your entire face burned red because you had just professed your want to kiss Chainsaw Man in front of Chainsaw Man himself.

“Holy shit… you,” You started to laugh softly, it grew slowly. “You’re really him. Your Chainsaw Man.”

“You… You can’t tell anyone!” He said quickly. He gave in pretty quickly. “Please… promise me you’ll keep this to yourself.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” You said, a gentle smile on your lips. Denji stared at that smile. You should’ve known it was him, he always trips up when you smile. “You saved my life, Denji.” Denji’s eyes grew, for the hundredth time today he blushed. So he wasn’t sick after all, you were just causing him to malfunction it seemed. “And you pretended to text yourself.” You laughed as Denji sunk down on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“I’m so embarrassed.” He mumbled into his palms. You reached, gently grabbing his wrists away from his face. He stared at you dumbfoundedly. You moved a bit closer.

“Don’t be. I… I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything! Seriously, I would save you anytime you need.” He expressed.

“I don’t doubt that.” You grinned, letting go of one wrist and sliding your hand into his with the other. You could see the nerves building in him. Nothing to be done about that, you were only going to make it worse. “But I do owe you. If… if Chainsaw Man wants it.”

“Wants… what?” Denji breaths out.

“A kiss.” You say and watch Denji’s world turn on its axis. He mouths the word ‘kiss’ and immediately his eyes go to your lips. You can tell how badly he wants it. You move a bit closer. “Do you want-” Denji shoots forwards, his lips slamming against your own. You gasp, surprised. The unexpectedness of the kiss jolted your system. The shock of the moment leaves both of you breathless. Denji’s quick and needy kiss, his hands sliding around your back as he pushed you back against the headboard of your bed. You made a sound against his lips that only spurred him on even more. Your bodies melted together, lips slotting together in perfect harmony, intertwined in a slow, sensual rhythm. A sort of primal desire comes over Denji as he presses even closer to you, his kiss trailing greedily from your mouth down your cheek to your jawline then your neck. You shiver, sucking in a breath, your eyes fluttering closed, hand sliding into his hair to gently grip his hair. Denji whimpers against your neck and your stomach bottoms out at the sound. “If you… leave marks on me… I’ll be in trouble.” You murmur, biting your lip. Denji trails his kisses back up to your lips and you grab both of his cheeks and hold him there.

“Mark me up then,” He says against your lips. You blush at his words.

“Denji…” you breath out, this all was happening so fast.

“Ah..I.. want to be yours.” Denji implores. “I… I really fucking want you to… own me.” He confesses. You let out a shaky breath and gently swap places with Denji, pushing him back against the pillows of your bed. He burns beneath you, hot to the touch. If he wanted to be yours it was more than fine with you. You duck down and press a kiss to his lips before gently ducking lower, pressing chaste kisses to his neck.

“I really fucking like you too, Denji…” You whisper against his neck. Denji sharply gasps at your words, a strangled whine escaping from his parted lips. His body sort of twitches beneath you as you slowly slide your legs over him, straddling against his clothed waist. He’s hard, so achingly hard that when you press against him he can’t help but let out a stifled moan. This was escalating very quickly… and you weren’t at all dissatisfied with this moment.

“Y/n…” Denji groaned out when you gently bit his neck.

“Hmm?”

“You… don’t have to-- d-do this…” Denji forced out between noises of pleasure. You lifted your head.

“What?” You asked softly. He swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention at this moment.

“I… want you to want me. Not feel like you owe me because I saved you.” He explains the best he can with you on top of him completely muddling his mind. You could tell how badly he wanted this and wanted you and the fact he was second guessing for your sake made your heart swell.

“Denji…” You breathed out.

“Let me take you out sometime… you deserve a date, s-something romantic.” He elaborates and you bite the smile on your lips, slightly tilting your head.

“You want to take me out?” You ask as Denji nods his head quickly.

“I know you like Chainsaw Man… but I want you to like me as well.”

“Oh… Denji.” You croon, sitting up. “We can go out. Anytime you want. And… yes I do like Chainsaw Man, he’s very cool… but he… he wasn’t the first person I wanted to kiss, ya know.” You say and watch the realization dawn on Denji’s face.

“Wait… you-- wait… when?” Denji asks, halting hope and half in utter disbelief.

“When you walked me home. You were so serious about keeping me safe.”

“I am very serious about that.” He doubles down. You smile at that and watch his eyes drift to it. Like a moth to a flame. “It wasn’t the shirtless pics of my muscles?” He asks as you scoff out a laugh, reaching and gripping his bicep gently.

“Wow… just like in the picture.” You tease.

“My friend said that would work.” Denji tries to hide his face in shame but you catch his wrists again, shaking your head in amusement.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like them.” You purred, gaining just the reaction you were wanting. Denji’s face got all red like you liked and when you let go of his wrists his hands fell and rest just on your hips.

“I-- I think I should leave.”He says suddenly. You softly furrow your brow, wondering if you’d made him uncomfortable in any way but know the thing pressing against your core meant he was enjoying this little chat.

“Okay… I’m sure your clothes are dry.” You say and when you move to get off of him his hands tighten slightly on your hips. You look back at him, his face was scrunched up slightly. “Denji..?”

“I-- don’t want…” He thought about his words carefully. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to let you go.” His fingers flex on your hips. You smile down at him.

“Then don’t.” You say and he looks up at you.

“I really should, ah--- y/n,” Mid sentence you gently ground your hips against his and watched as his sentence fell apart. His grip tightened even more as his head fell back on the pillow. “Please… oh ah-- please don’t, Y/n… I really want to- ah ah fuck… please.” He can’t even form a coherent sentence.

“What is it, Denji?” You ask innocently as you slowly pick up speed. The moans and groans that escape his parted lips are heavenly. You could listen to them all day.

“Ah-- fuck… Y/n. I can’t-- don’t make me… in my pants…I’ve never… done this…before.” He says, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. You didn’t let up, just reached and gently grabbed him by the chin and angled his lips up to yours so you could kiss him, a fire of your own building below your stomach. You desperately wanted to rid you both of the layers of clothes between you and just at that thought you felt the tips of Denji’s fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, sliding back towards your ass. You shivered and kissed him harder as a reward. “Ah… am-- am I yours?” He whimpers helplessly against your lips. “F-fuck me like I’m yours, p-please.” Your stomach bottomed out at that. Jesus… You raised up slightly and pulled your pants off as fluidly as possible, tossing them aside. You helped Denji out of his own pants and paused because you’d never done this before. It was clear he hadn’t either. Despite it all you blew out a nervous breath and pressed on, lining up your entrance with his cock, letting it slide inside you. The noises you both made made the entire room heat up and spin around you. You moved your hips at a decent speed and wrapped your arms around the back of Denji’s neck, tucking your face in his neck as well. Your heart was in your throat thumping loudly as you fumbled your way through the motions, unsure of what you were doing. “Y/n…” Denji’s voice spoke softly, you pulled back and when your eyes met his all the fear an anxiety of the moment drained away. He kissed you hard and rocked up into you, muffling the moan on your lips. The want that built inside you tightened like a ball in your stomach, slowly being wound free. Denji kissed you, he kissed your cheeks and your forehead and when you came it was together. It was more romantic than you could’ve ever, ever imagined. All those horror stories of first times that all your friends had told you back in high school. You were damn glad you waited. Denji kissed your lips a last time as you two unlatched from each other. That’s when you heard the sound of the front door downstairs opening.

“Oh fuck.” You said suddenly, jumping up, grabbing your pants. You tossed Denji his and ran to your door, poking out your head. Sure enough your mom was home early. Your face flushed as you pressed your door shut quietly. Sure it was embarrassing to some that you still lived with your parents but you were a broke college student and nowhere else. But right now you would rather perish than your mom catching you with a boy in your room.

“Your parents?” Denji asked wide eyed as you nodded your head, running to your window, pushing it open.

“I am… so sorry but you have got to go. Run around to the side of the house and I’ll meet you with your stuff okay.” You say as Denji nods his head, vaulting out of the bed, running to the window. He put one leg out, turned and kissed you quickly before sliding out of it, jumping to the grass below. You gasped, sticking your head out to check if he was okay just as your door opened. “Jesus, mom!” You gasped out.

“Y/n, I thought I heard you,” Your mom said as you pulled the window closed. “Are you feeling okay?” She asked as you nodded your head.

You snuck out the front door about fifteen minutes later and ran to the side of the house. Denji was waiting there and startled when you finally came around.

“Sorry,” You apologized, handing him his stuff. He wasted zero time dropping the stuff you handed him, hands sliding on your cheeks to bring your lips to his. You smiled against his lip.

“We didn’t get to talk after,” He said after a moment. “Was that… are you okay?” He asks, your heart exploding in your chest. “I’ve never done that before… Was I good enough for you?”

“Denji…” You swooned. “You were perfect. And for the record neither have I.” You said and Denji’s lips parted in surprise.

“Really?” He asked as you nodded your head. He swallowed, letting out a breath. “You were heavenly…” He said, making you blush.

“Alright Mr. Chainsaw Man… you really need to go.” You laugh as Denji pouts.

“When can I see you again?”

“I’ll leave my window unlocked.” You say and watch Denji’s face erupt in another glorious blush.

“No… I have to take you out properly before I sneak into your room again.” He says as you laugh, biting your lip.

“Alright… plan something, I’ll be waiting for your text.” You say and Denji nods his head, kissing you one last time before leaving. You shake your head laughing, as you head back inside. You grab your phone from your room and scroll through you and Denji’s messages until you find one of his shirtless pics, you send it back to him with the caption, new lockscreen <3.

#chainsaw man #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #denji x you #fem reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man smut #denji smut #chainsaw devil

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slavicdollie · 4 months

Text

My bestfriends brother ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Summary: Things don't go as planned when your close friend invites you to watch the new Johnny Cage movie.

Notes: Post-mk1 story and Bi-hans betrayal never happened. AFAB reader isn't one of earthrealms champions just a cool girl Tomas started to become friends.

Content Warnings:NSFW, dub-con fingerbang, small temperature play ,female masturbation.

Chinese culture was a beautiful sight but she still loathed her father for moving here, leaving behind her old friends and memories. She struggled to learn the language and felt outcasted amongst her peers all but one, a silver haired man named Tomas the same age as her. He knew what it felt like to be different from everyone else. A friendship began to spark between the two of them sharing stories of the past and present. Tomas was a good listener and sometimes she just needed to get things off her chest.

It had taken a lot of convincing to allow her at the fire temple Kuai liang was content with her visiting considering she looked as if she had never fought in her life, she put an end to that assumption when showing off her meteor hammer skills,she had shown interest in martial arts from a young age. Both Kuai Liang and Tomas looked impressed they had never seen a warrior move so beautifully and Tomas was practically drooling.

Bi-han however was not too fond of having a stranger enter their home let alone train with her brothers whilst not being lin kuei.

"I promise I am not a threat Grandmaster I simply enjoy the company of Tomas and practicing how to use my meteor hammer in a professional sense." Tomas felt his heart race at her statement.

Bi-han only grunted a popular gesture of his," You are no lin kuei do not presume to address me as Grandmaster." As he walked away stoicly, she began to admire him his handsome face and hot physique could not go unnoticed.

She became more comfortable around Tomas even making jests about wanting to fuck his brother, "Yeah I'd totally freeze my tongue on Bi-han's flag pole" Tomas laughed awkwardly hiding how uncomfortable he was and he looked almost...hurt?

She found herself becoming more comfortable around the lin kuei trio kuai liang appreciated her fire puns but Bi-han only shot her deathly glares.

"Are you ready to have your mind blown?" Tomas asked with a stupid grin he was excited to be apart of Johnny cage's new movie even if someone else was casted he was interested on how they would portray him. "Didn't know ninjas were allowed TV's" actually Tomas and Johnny had convinced Bi-han to install one.

Tomas and Y/n sat on the soft couch sharing popcorn. Tomas was blushing due to how close her leg were to his,she was wearing a skirt but he knew not to look at it she'd probably think he was some kind pervert and never want to speak to him again. Their faces were glued to the screen until interrupted by a deep voice. "What are you two morons doing?" Tomas jumped at the sound of Bi-hans voice but Y/n just smiled and replied "Watching the movie about you guys, the guy Johnny got to play you really captures your essence" The actor had been grumpy and mascular just like Bi-han.

Bi-han let out an annoyed grunt,"I told Cage our victory is not for entertainment" although he disproved of the movie being made he still wanted to see what the fuss was all about, motioning for Tomas to move up now sitting in the middle, between his adopted brother and his friend who he found to be alluring.

Bi-han removed the popcorn from her lap and gave it to Tomas that may have been the kindest thing Bi-han had done for him yet his only intention was to get a view of Y/N's skirt. It was a black plaid skirt with a pink ribbon around the middle that was above knee length. 'Why is he staring at me' Y/n began to think while Tomas was too focused laughing at the movie. Bi-han stared at her as a predator stared at it's prey. She looked at him for a split second making eye contact only to quickly look down and play with her fingers which was a common thing for her to do when nervous.

This action only annoyed the cryomancer next to her causing him to pull her hands apart placing them on her sides. He turned to look at Tomas seeing him stuck on the screen like a kid at a candy store, Bi-han rolled his eyes and looked back to the girl next to him. He begun rubbing his rough hands on her gentle thighs. His hands were cold she shivered at his touch. He put a lock of her hair behind her ear almost as a way to reassure her everything was going to be okay.

She subconsciously started rocking her hips and he slowly started to put his hand under her skirt reaching her cotton panties. Pushing her panties to the side and entering two fingers in her slit while she parted her legs, turning to look at Tomas who was oblivious to what was going on. The ninja used his cryomancer abilities to form solid ice on his fingertips. She whimpered softly at that, quickly covering her mouth to prevent Tomas from looking over. Bi-han started moving his fingers in and out of her wet pussy. She wanted to moan and tell him to fuck her right now,who cares if Tomas was there. She was a blushing and sweating mess Bi-han wanted to make fun of her for her reaction but did not want to draw attention to it.

Thank the elder gods for the volume of the TV or else Tomas would be hearing the sound of his friend's pussy as she was getting fingerbanged by his older brother. The finger fucking went from slow and gentle to rough and fast tears started to form from the inner corners of her eyes,Bi-han noticed this and wiped them away and started going slower and she tried to keep in her moans with her hand. She was about to cum and accidentally removed her hand from her mouth,"AAAERR THAT WAS A GOOD FIGHT SCENE" she tried to play her orgasm off as a reaction to the film. Bi-han smirked and Tomas only said "I know right!" not judging her reaction. Bi-han grabbed the popcorn bowl from Tomas and giving it to the girl he just dispoiled. His fingers were still covered in her juices she opened her mouth to put the popcorn in her mouth but instead was greeted with bi-hans jizzed covered fingers shoved in her mouth she need not be told what to do and started sucking her mess from his rough fingers.

She had completely forgotten the plot of the movie she was watching and only shooting smiles at Bi-han and wondering what other parts of his body are cold. After the movie, Tomas got up and offered Y/N to stay for dinner. "You know it's pretty late I should get going home." She refused awkwardly. "Did you enjoy the movie?" Bi-han asked with an unreadable expression.Tomas was taken aback since when does Bi-han care about the opinion of others especially on irrelevant things like a movie directed by Johnny but the girl about to leave knew he was not referring to the movie,"it was nice...I've never experienced something like that before" she smiled at him. Tomas offered to walk her home but she needed to be alone and given time to think.

'Did that really just happen??The always angry dude just fingered me while he was sitting next to his brother!!???' The whole scene felt like it came out of a bad porno. When she arrived home she went to straight to bed staring at her ceiling contemplating if this was a dream or if it actually happend. 'Of course it happend Y/N' she slightly hit herself on the head. Her mind begun to wander again thinking of Bi-han how he smirked at her after her release how good his fingers felt inside of her. She put her hands inside her underwear and tried to recreate Bi-hans movements her hands weren't as cold as his but you have to work with what you've got.

The skirt:

#bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han #johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat x reader #tomas vrbada #smoke #bi han smut

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unseededtoast · 6 months

Text

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together.

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can.

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush.

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere.

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes.

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace.

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly.

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around.

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other.

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face.

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity.

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together.

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #taylor swift #taylor swift inspired

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

when we are together

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

5 times jack pushes you and aaron together and the one time it works

cw: reader gets injured, mutual pinning, jack also gets hurt (very minor), bau reader, she/her pronouns

wc: 4.9k

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1. carpool

you had first overheard hotch complaining about his car troubles to rossi.

everyone drove the same bureau issued suv. it was odd for one to have an issue and not the others. emily laughed and joked to the group about it being ‘old man troubles’ to which he rolled his eyes.

“it’s going into the shop after work. standard maintenance.”

you finally butted in when hotch debated what rental car to get.

“i can just pick you up tomorrow if you’d like. i drive in your direction anyway,” you offered. “save you the trouble.”

hotch raised an eyebrow. “are you sure? i have to get jack to school too.”

you waved your hand. “i’ll pick you both up at eight.”

true to your word, you pulled up to hotch’s apartment complex a few minutes early and shot him a quick text to let him know you were outside.

jack came barreling out first, hotch not far behind. his backpack bounced as he ran and lunchbox hit against his leg.

“hi y/n!” jack exclaimed as he climbed into the car. hotch greeted you with a quieter hello as he buckled jack’s seatbelt and circled the car to get in the passenger's seat.

you stayed quiet while driving, focusing instead on navigating. hotch had asked jack about his day ahead in an effort to make small talk. the young boy perked up and began rambling off about everything he would be doing at school. you were impressed with how much he seemed to enjoy learning.

it was only a few minutes before you were pulling up to jack’s school as per aaron’s directions. you quickly parked while aaron got out of his seat to help jack out of the car and get his backpack on.

before he exited though, you twisted around to say goodbye to jack and wish him a good day at school.

he waved up at you with a toothy smile.

“maybe you and dad could drive me to school together more often.”

you and aaron met each others eyes in a mutual agreement.

“i think that can definitely be arranged.”

2. work

it was rare that jessica couldn’t watch jack. her job and schedule allowed her to care for the young boy after school and when aaron was away on cases.

today, however, she got swamped with a last minute series of meetings and was out of town for the day. she let aaron know as soon as possible but not quick enough for him to find another sitter.

that meant one thing, jack would have to spend the day at the bau.

aaron coached his son the entire drive over on the proper behavior. it was a paperwork day, thankfully, and he made sure jack knew that everyone on the team had a lot of work to get done. that meant no bothering them.

despite the warning, jack was practically bouncing the entire way up, more than excited he would get to spend an entire day with some of his favorite people on the planet.

members of the team greeted jack as he made his way around the bullpen. morgan even slipped him a lollipop he stole from garcia for the occasion. when hotch had begun to guide his son up towards the office, you offered to let jack sit with you.

hotch tilted his head. “are you sure?”

“i don’t have a ton of files to get done. he won’t be a bother.”

hotch brought a spare chair over to your desk. he thanked you again and disappeared into his office. you knew the young boy would need entertainment of some kind while he waited.

you took a spare piece of paper from your desk and a few pens. jack took them eagerly with a thank you and got to coloring right away.

it was far from a distraction. his scratching on paper served as white noise more than anything.

he seemed to finish after a few minutes, sliding it over to you for approval. you beamed when you saw the drawing. it was you, him, and hotch at what looked like the park. some of the scribbles were a little tough to decipher but you got the gist.

“wow jack!” you exclaimed. “i think we might have found your hidden talent!”

jack giggled, taking the picture back.

“wanna go show your dad?”

the boy was sliding off the chair and running up the steps towards his dad's office before you could stop him. while the offer was made, you were unsure if hotch was in a meeting. the door was already open, though, and jack headed in with ease.

“dad! dad! look what i made!” jack quickly exclaimed. hotch looked up from his file, expression softening as his son handed the picture.

you entered the office next, apologizing for jack’s sudden rogue behavior. hotch held his hand up, lips upturned in a small smile.

he kept the photo framed on his wall.

3. career day

there were plenty of events at jack’s elementary school that were spread throughout the year.

he had an art show, a holiday concert, and even a mini science fair. aaron had done his best to make it to the ones he could, but there were times when work conflicted and he felt awful.

jack had another event, career day, in just a few days and the team had yet to be called in for a case.

this was a big deal for him. once aaron had told him he would be in attendance, jack seemed to work extra hard and checked every single morning to make sure his dad would still be there. typically, jessica would also attend with or without aaron but she was away on a work trip.

as happy as jack was that aaron would be there, all of the other kids in his class were bragging about both of their parents taking the day off.

haley wasn’t around anymore and his aunt was busy.

jack asked his dad before he got out of the car for school. one of the aids had handed aaron a flier with a reminder for the event. in the back, jack piped up.

“can y/n come too?”

aaron glanced at his son through the mirror. he knew how important this event was for jack.

“sure, buddy. i can ask her today.”

jack’s career fair was that friday during your lunch break. the students would be dressing up as their future careers and even prepared a presentation for the parents who had come to see them.

despite not being able to make it, jack had enlisted jessica’s help to make his outfit a total surprise.

aaron and you had left a few minutes before your scheduled break to ensure enough time to make it to the school. you had to admit, hearing that jack wanted you at such a big event for him and being invited made you tear up.

you quickly found seats in the auditorium. jack’s teacher had given a brief speech before releasing everyone to walk around the room.

jack was in the back corner. you and aaron both beamed when you say his career choice.

he was dressed in a suit, one of aaron’s ties around his neck though it was much too long for his body. he had a little bag beside him and an id clipped to his collar. he looked like aaron.

jack immediately ran into his dads legs, squeezing him tightly. you were next.

“hey buddy,” you greeted. “what did you dress up as?”

“i’m an fbi agent!” he exclaimed proudly. “i wanted to be like you and dad.”

you glanced at aaron who pressed his lips together. “you wanted to be like us?”

“yeah! i couldn’t be a superhero so i chose the real thing.”

both you and aaron collected jack in your arms at his words.

aaron stayed close to you and jack went through his entire presentation: what an fbi agent was, why he picked it, and how he can practice in his everyday life. it was adorable.

it was finally time for the career fair to end and jack had hugged you both again before running off with his class. you and aaron needed to get back to work too. aaron drove you two back to the bureau, leaving the radio on at a comfortable volume.

“thank you for coming with me. i know it meant a lot to jack.”

aaron was truly grateful. jack adored you and deep down, aaron always worried that his son would struggle with emotions and opening up after losing haley. but with you, he was the opposite.

you leaned over the center console to squeeze his hand. a small intimate gesture.

“of course. anything for either of you.”

4. emergency room

you loved watching over jack whenever you could.

all of the team, minus you and morgan, had a conference out in wisconsin over the weekend. it wasn’t odd for certain members to not go, the bureau chose who they thought would discuss the content the best.

you volunteered to watch jack in aaron’s absence.

you headed over to the hotchner residence immediately after work on friday. the rest of the team would be heading out that night for the conference on saturday and sunday.

jack was ecstatic that you were watching him. he even made a list of movies he wanted to watch and games he wanted to play.

of course you had been in aaron’s apartment before, but he still showed you around and pointed out where specific things for jack were. he stopped by his bedroom, motioning you to drop your bags.

“you can sleep in here. i changed the sheets and all before you came but there’s also fresh linens in the hall closet.”

he had said it so casually you couldn’t help the blush that formed. you really hoped he didn’t notice.

you had to practically shove aaron out the door after the makeshift tour. he was running late for the airport but you could sense his nervousness about leaving jack. he finally kissed his son on the forehead and squeezed your shoulder.

“good luck at your conference.” you giggled when he rolled his eyes, clearly not excited for it. “try and have some fun.”

“i doubt it.”

the weekend with jack went by smoothly. you did everything on his agenda and spent some time in the city too. it was honestly relaxing to be with the boy.

aaron had texted you before he had left wisconsin, sending the flight information and arrival time. you had responded with a simple ‘safe flight!’ and ventured into the kitchen to make jack dinner.

jack was bouncing around as you cooked. he missed his dad and was excited for him to get home. you warned him gently to be careful and he simply giggled before taking off around the apartment.

you thought all was good until you heard a loud crash and an instant cry.

after shutting the burner of the stove off, you wasted no time in running to find jack.

he was sitting on the floor on the hallway, the table knocked over and a picture frame scattered on the floor. your heart plummeted when you saw the blood on his forehead and hands.

you’ve had training for this. you’ve literally saved people's lives but seeing jack injured seemed to make you falter.

you quickly took him in his arms and brought him into the kitchen, grabbing a towel to his cut. you needed to slow the bleeding before anything. you used your spare hand to wipe away jack’s tears.

“it’s gonna be okay, jackers. i promise.”

his verbal crying had subsided but the tears still flowed. your heart ached.

after a few moments, you removed the cloth and winced. he would definitely need stitches. “i’m gonna take you to get cleaned up, okay?” jack nodded.

you scooped him into your arms, quickly grabbing your phone and keys.

the drive to urgent care went by thankfully quickly. jack kept the cloth pressed to the cut and was taking it like a champ. you knew he would be okay but anxiety still nipped at your head.

doctors took jack back right away. you relayed what happened and that you were his babysitter. thankfully with aaron’s status at the bau, not much information was needed for you to write down.

when you went to follow them back to jack’s room, you were stopped. it was standard protocol for them to not let friends or family back while they operated. as much as you wanted to go and be with him, it simply wasn’t allowed.

you squeezed jack’s hand quickly, reassuring him that he would be okay. your eyes stayed on him until he was led out of sight.

you needed to call aaron.

the team was mingling about on the jet, all immersed in a game of poker while rossi slept somewhere else on the jet. hotch’s phone rang and he placed his cards down to pick it up.

hotch barely had time to answer with a hello before you were apologizing.

“aaron i’m so so sorry,” you cried.

“y/n what happened? where are you?”

“i’m at urgent care,” aaron’s heart fell at your words. “jack fell and cut his head. aaron i’m so sorry.”

you were crying again when you finished talking. he could tell you were trying to muffle your sobs with your hand.

“y/n,” aaron needed to calm you down before anything. “is jack okay?”

“yeah yeah. they took him back to get stitches but they said he was going to be okay. i’m sorry i was supposed to be taking care of him.”

“it’s okay. as long as jack is being taken care of, that's all that matters. i’m sure it was an accident.”

you’re already protesting his words. “but i-”

“y/n,” aaron’s voice is stern. “it’s okay. i’ll meet you at urgent care when we land. shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.”

he was going easy on you and you knew it.

the thirty minute wait seemed to go by agonizingly slow. a doctor had come into the waiting room and let you know that they were beginning the stitching. the cleaning had taken longer than intended.

you shut your eyes when someone sat down next to you. you knew it was him. you knew you should turn and talk to aaron but the guilt was all consuming.

he finally took the first words. “how’s jack?”

“he’s good. getting his stitches now. aaron i’m-”

“y/n, it’s okay, really. please don’t apologize again. accidents happen,” his words were gentle. you stayed quiet, knowing you would apologize again if you opened your mouth.

aaron’s hand moved to your knee, effectively stopping the anxious bouncing and squeezing to reassure you of his words.

he kept his hand there until a doctor came out to which he stood up, professionalism seeping into his expression.

“you can go first,” you offered once the doctor had informed you that jack was ready to be seen. it felt dumb to have to vocally tell him to go.

aaron was having none of that. he reached down to take your hand in yours and hoist you to your feet, pulling you after him to jack’s room. aaron entered first, hugging his son tightly.

“hi jackers,” you greeted quietly after stepping into the room.

the young boy bit his lip as tears welled in his eyes. “i’m so sorry.”

aaron looked at his son. “what for buddy?”

“i was running when i wasn’t supposed to and i got hurt.”

you took a seat on the bed beside him, carefully wrapping an arm around his shoulder. he leaned into you as aaron occupied the other space beside him.

“it’s alright. i’m just glad you’re okay.”

5. hurts

there was always a risk when a friend, a lover, anyone close to you was in a potentially dangerous line of work.

you and aaron had gone through it a few times with him and foyet and various members of the team. you, however, hadn’t ever been directly put in danger.

that was until this case.

the unsub was profiled as a misogynistic, psychopathic serial killer whose signature involved overkill of women. every female in the immediate area was absolutely terrified.

you didn’t think much of it at first, especially not when you, spencer, and emily had been sent to a suspect's house. the fear only set in when all traits of the suspect had pointed to him being the unsub and you were the one who got attacked first.

hotch nearly lost it when he found you unconscious and bloody. your face had been beaten, nose swollen and lip split. he dropped down beside you, taking your head in his hands and yelling your name in pure fear of losing you until j.j. had gotten the emt’s.

you thankfully didn’t stay in the hospital very long, just overnight. all of your wounds had gotten cleaned and stitched up but the doctor had diagnosed you with a pretty nasty concussion. you were just glad it was a local case so you didn’t have to wait to fly home.

hotch had insisted that he watched over you for at least the first night. there had been other volunteers but no one was going to argue with their boss.

you had strict concussion protocol for the first night. you would need to stay up as late as you possibly could and once you fell asleep, someone would need to wake you up every few hours. it sounded exhausting.

if hotch had any issues with it, he didn’t voice them.

you were still pretty out of it on the drive home. aaron had loaded your bags in his car and kept a secure arm around your waist to help you in the passenger's seat. he even made sure to take the least bumpy route to his apartment.

you stayed leaning against the wall of his apartment hallway as aaron knocked before unlocking the door. jessica was greeting him right away, echoing that jack was in the kitchen eating dinner. the rest of their conversation was fuzzy. your head was pounding and it felt like too much to try and tune in and listen.

“y/n?” aaron’s voice was suddenly close.

you hum as you opened your eyes slowly.

“let’s head in,” his hand fell to your shoulder as he led you inside. jessica must have left because you could only hear jack in the kitchen.

you collapsed on the couch. aaron went into the kitchen to greet his son and get you some medicine.

despite doctor’s orders, sleep was beginning to feel like a good idea. but as your eyes started to slip shut, you heard a patter against the floorboards.

“y/n?” jack’s voice was small. you knew he had never seen you like this. “are you okay?”

you sat up, patting the spot next to you for jack to climb up. “i’m alright, jackers. just got a little hurt.”

an idea seemed to pass over jack’s face and he lit up. “oh! i know how to help!”

you tilted your head to the side. sure jack was smart for his age but you didn’t know how he could help your injuries.

“how?”

jack smiled. “kisses! dad and aunt jess always say that kissing my hurts will make them feel better.”

you bit your lip. the young boy's heart made you tear up. “well i certainly want to feel better.”

jack clambered forward, placing a soft kiss to the cut on your forehead, the bruise on your cheek, and the brace on your wrist.

aaron opened his mouth, a warning for his son to be careful on the tip of his tongue. but when he saw you smile, he stopped.

“dad!” jack twisted around to face his father. “your turn!”

aaron shook his head. “sorry buddy, i think you got them all.”

jack shook his head, pointing towards your very split lip. “nuh uh. i made sure to leave one for you.”

oh.

aaron ruffled his son's hair. he wanted to defuse the brewing situation. as willing as he would be to kiss your injury, it was wrong, unprofessional. “her lip needs to heal. i can’t kiss it.”

“but y/n won’t feel better!” jack sounded clearly in distress. “please?”

both you and aaron knew jack’s stubbornness, something he got from his father.

“alright,” aaron’s voice was softer now.

he circled the couch to stand in front of you. jack babbled on about how he also had special spiderman bandaids in his room and he would even let you have one. aaron’s eyes met yours. it was a silent agreement between the two of you.

aaron ducked down to kiss the corner of your mouth, lips ghosting over the stitches.

it was a surge of emotion but one that you knew he was only doing for jack. his lips left yours much faster than you would’ve liked.

“do you feel better?”

jack’s question broke you out of the trance you were in.

aaron had kissed you. indirectly, yes, but it was still a kiss.

“without a doubt.”

+1 movie night

you and aaron hadn’t discussed the night after the case. though in all honesty, you hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

once you were cleared again for the field, cases seemed to pick up which left less than sufficient personal time for you and aaron. you missed him.

you were the first one in the office friday morning. you had gotten there early to get a headstart on your paperwork in hopes that it meant not having to stay late.

aaron was in next. he usually gave you, or whoever else was in the bullpen, a nod and a quiet ‘good morning.’ today, he changed his route and circled around to your desk.

“are you busy tonight?”

you nearly sputtered out the coffee you were drinking out of pure unawareness of where this question was going to lead.

you shook your head. “assuming we don’t have a case, i’m not.”

“good,” aaron started. “jack wanted to have a movie night and he’s been dying to see you and i wanted to see if you wanted to come over?”

his voice seemed to go up an octave towards the end, as if to cushion the non-existent blow of the question.

you beam. “i would love to.”

aaron’s eyes lift. it’s not a smile, those are rare even for you, but it’s close to it.

“perfect. does seven work?”

you nod.

“great, we’ll see you then.”

you hide your smile in the file you’re working on.

right as aaron had instructed, you showed up at aaron’s apartment right around seven. you knocked twice, stepping back to wait for the door to open. when it did, you weren’t met with your tall solemn boss, but the smaller hotchner.

“y/n!” jack exclaimed, surging forward to hug your waist.

you giggled, hugging him back. “hi jack.”

aaron appeared behind his son, lips upturned at the sight of you two. “hi,” you greeted him.

“come on in, it’s all set up.”

you let aaron take your bag. usually on nights like these, you and aaron stayed up much later than you expected and you crashed at his place instead of going home.

you took a seat at the edge of the couch, letting aaron decide the distance between you two. when he returned, he sat a few feet away. it wasn’t enough to be inferred as him clearly trying to make distance but it wasn’t close enough either.

jack had clambered into his dad’s lap, curling into his chest with just enough vision to still see the movie.

once he had settled, however, his head turned to where you still sat. he extended one of his hands, opening and closing his fists in a grabbing motion. he wanted you closer.

“i wanna lay with you too.”

“of course jackers.”

you smiled and scooted a little closer to aaron. you looked up at him cautiously. being close to jack meant being close to him too. aaron didn’t respond verbally. he lifted his arm from where it sat at his side to rest along the back of the couch. open invitation.

you curled into aaron’s side, legs pressing against his. jack wasted no time in readjusting himself to be strung across the both of you. you could feel aaron’s eyes peer down on you but you didn’t meet his gaze. instead, you settled further into the couch and watched the screen.

as the final few scenes of the movie played, jack began yawning and rubbing his eyes. you knew it was his bedtime but would fight until the movie was over. you brought your hand to his back, running your fingers up and down to help soothe his tired state.

when the end credit popped up, aaron leaned to shut off the tv. “alright buddy, let’s get you to bed. can you say goodnight to y/n?”

jack slid fully into your lap, arms interlocking around your neck to hug you.

“goodnight y/n. thank you for coming over.”

“goodnight jack,” you spoke, squeezing him a little tighter.

when you let go, the boy wasted no time in all but sprinting down the hall to pick out the bedtime story aaron would read.

“i’m going to get him ready for bed,” aaron started. “i shouldn’t be too long.”

you smiled up at him. “take your time.”

aaron too disappeared down the hall and you were left to your own devices.

you knew he wanted you to wait in the living room but your overnight bag was discarded in his room and you really wanted to wash your face and get in more comfy clothing.

you tried to be as quiet as possible as you walked down the hallway, fully intent on going into aaron’s room just to grab your bag. that was until you heard the conversation between aaron and jack. you stayed pressed against the wall next to the door.

guilt climbed in your chest at what you were doing but what the hotchner boys didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“-don’t get it.” that was jack.

you could almost see aaron’s eyebrow quirk. “what don’t you get, buddy?”

“why aren’t you and y/n dating yet?”

you suck in a breath, cheeks turning rosy at the question. you absolutely knew you weren’t meant to hear it. the thought of turning away and completing your original task passes over but you want, need, to hear aaron’s response.

“i don’t think she likes me like that, bud.”

“she does,” jack nearly giggles. “she talks about you a lot.”

you just got betrayed by a seven year old.

aaron seems to change the conversation after that and that’s when you tune out, replaying aaron’s words over and over. i don’t think she likes me like that. does that mean he liked you too?

you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice jack’s door open and aaron step out.

he sighed, not surprised in the slightest at seeing you waiting. “i know you heard all that.”

busted.

you stammer, trying poorly to come up with an excuse.

“come on,” aaron’s hand is strong as he guides you to his room. “he just got to bed, don’t want him waking up while we talk.”

fear courses through you. you could lose your job over all this. dramatic reaction but still a possibility. above all, however, you could lose aaron personally. it was already a barrier you felt like you were pushing

“jack sometimes doesn’t think before he asks a question,” aaron starts. oh. “i’m sorry you had to hear that.

he was sorry?

“why are you sorry?” you’re trying to save yourself the potential heartbreak.

aaron sighs.

“i’m your boss. it’s unprofessional to have feelings for my subordinate. you watch my son too, i don’t want you feeling like i’ve been taking advantage of you.”

you wanted to laugh. aaron was always overly professional with his words.

“i really like you aaron.”

he didn’t respond at first and for a moment you think your confession was a little too strong. but then his eyes meet yours and he smiles.

“can i kiss you? properly this time.”

you hummed. “please.”

aaron’s lips met yours tentatively. his hands cupped your cheeks effectively holding you to him. it was new, though not unwelcome.

you leaned up to loop your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

aaron pulled away first and you whined, clearly upset at the sudden lack of contact. you had waited ages to kiss aaron and in no way did you expect for it to end so soon.

“relax baby,” aaron chuckled. your heart leaped at the pet name. “need to adjust.”

he sat down on the bed. arms snaked around your waist to pull you close to him.

“so you like me too?” the question slips out before you can think about it.

aaron leans up to kiss the corner of your mouth, the same spot where your cut had turned into a scar.

“i do.”

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