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sukirichi · 3 months

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WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you.

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him.

His head snaps in your direction.

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter.

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering.

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem.

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs.

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state.

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child.

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut.

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep.

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city.

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go.

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder.

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him.

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t.

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs.

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath.

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life.

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer. You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you.

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind.

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye.

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV.

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

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adelheidvonschicksal · 7 months

Note

Nsfw scenarios/hcs for the LADS boys with their MC in ABO!AU (Idl if I wrote this right 😅) please? Like how they marked their mates, how they treated their mates during the rut and heat, etc.

+ Omegaverse, sexual content, alpha boys/omega reader, female reader

General

9/10 possessiveness level

Xavier is the most possessive of the main boys and gets jealous the easiest. He may seem calm about other alphas standing a little too close or talking a little too long to his mate, but the tension in the air is thick and unpleasant. There's a specific eery calmness to his face and falsely polite tone to his voice when he happens to cut into the conversation. He always wants to know the topic of conversation when you talk to anyone who has his suspicion. Xavier suddenly gets a little needier than usual, always trying to figure out a way to draw your attention back to himself. Or, purposely sliding an arm around your waist and holding you close in a silent hint that whoever is talking to you should back off, or he will drop his head against your shoulder, saying he’s tired, and asking you to hurry up so you can go home together, he emphasizes. His last resort isn't pretty.

While calm, he has a little of a competitive streak with others, whether that means scoring higher in your hunter team battles or building the largest snowman together. He is competitive for your attention against those he thinks are interested in you; and when he has you alone, he insists on scenting you or mating you. You better be prepared to hide large bite marks or hickeys by the time he’s done claiming you.

Protective Level: 6/10

Xavier has no problem with you running about your daily life. He has confidence that you’re strong and don’t necessarily need much protection. He only insists on coming with for two things: (one) if he’s jealous of the person you’re meeting or (two) if you’re going somewhere to fight on your own.

As long as he’s around, he’s confident that things will work out fine. However, he gets extremely protective when you’re hurt, asking for you to stay behind him, rushing ahead to be the vanguard, and trying to take on the brunt of everything himself. And if you get hurt being rash, prepare for him to be upset with you and insist that you allow him to protect you more.

Scenting

Scent: Fresh Linen

Xavier smells good, but there isn’t something to pinpoint about his scent that is unique to him. Simply put, he smells clean, like freshly dried laundry with a touch of lavender.

Xavier loves covering you in his scent, cuddling and sleeping with you until you’re no longer entirely sure what your scent smells like not mixed with his. He scents your things, like your plushies, before you even need to ask.

He likes to tease you, asking if you want him to scent his hoodies even more since you take them so much, and he’s always happy to oblige. His first instinct to calm you down consists of three options: scenting, cuddles, and food, in that order.

Mating

Xavier already likes to mate with his partner a lot, like a constant rut minus the attitude that comes with it; always wrapping his arms around you, nudging the back of your neck, and lightly coercing the situation to where he wants it to end up whenever the opportunity shows itself.

In a rut, he’s twice as easy to rile up and much more direct about wanting to be alone with you, wanting to hold you and shove his head into the divot of your neck, and audibly inhaling your scent. You can already feel him against you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t waste his time trying to play games with you during this time, choosing to show you exactly how much he wants you before taking charge. You’re burnt out by his energy when you’re used to him napping right after a round or two. This time he isn’t letting up, but he promises that he’ll treat you so well, promises that he’ll get you there twice in exchange for letting him have one more time, as if you're aren't already overstimulated with jellied legs.

He asks if you're already tired. He'll let you sleep but can he at least squeeze and kiss you while he uses his hand. He promises to clean his mess if it gets on you. He'll be good, he swears, and he's so puppy eyed that you let him.

When he finally is tired, he’ll fall asleep while inside you. His knot stopped swelling a long time ago, but he enjoys your warmth around him as he nuzzles the back of your head.

Xavier does his best to tend to his mate when they’re in heat. He’ll get warm compresses and try his best to cook for you (most likely failing) and offer to nap with you when you’re in pain. He’ll let you use him how you want as long as it makes you feel better, whether that’s using his hands, mouth, or knotting you.

There’s a small bit of worry from him, with the way he asks,

“Where do you need it?” “Like this?” “Are you sure you only want my fingers? It’s okay to ask for more.” “Open your legs wider. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It's only me." "Next time, I'll let you take care of me, deal?

You’re so cute like this, needing and wanting him, but he hates how it causes you pain.

General

3/10 possessiveness level

Rafayel tends to have confidence that he can have you before anyone else, trusting your judgment to take care of yourself. He also has pretty high esteem of himself when it comes to the social world. A few properly chosen words is usually enough to get any seducer to back off. Rafayel can’t believe someone else could possibly think they’d have a chance with you when you have him.

As repentance, he wants you to do things for him after little incidents like that. It’s so exhausting chasing lesser alphas off, after all. Whether he’s serious or not when he says he could use some affection after his omega so cruelly ignored him for another alpha remains to be determined.

If there ever is a time where he feels insecure or jealous, he isn’t above trying to cut off someone’s relationship with you. If it comes to threats so be it, but it will end. It doesn’t matter if it’s from your side or the pursuer. It’s an ultimatum, either him or the other person, but not both.

He has a bigger concern about you not needing or growing bored of him than falling in love with someone else. Otherwise, he tends to have faith in you.

Protectiveness Level: 8/10

Rafayel knows you’re strong. Trust him—a twisted arm and playfights abound—he knows. But you are also bulledheaded and naïve. He worries you might end up getting yourself injured; or worse, killed.

So, he’s observant as always, watching for any suspicious activities with the people you’re around, whether warranted or not. He wouldn’t just do that for anyone, only for his precious mate and also for his precious peace of mind. He tends to operate from the background to not be too overbearing, but he doesn’t mind being the one to step in—to get hurt—if it means keeping you safe.

Scenting

Scent: Beach Sand with a Hint of Citrus

Rafayel smells of white beach sand and tropical fruit. He smells like the first hint of salt air and the ocean breeze and mineral. It reminds you of family vacations and old memories. He insists most Lemurians have scents like these, but his is special! It's the only one that mixes so lovely with yours.

He does scent you when you ask, but he requests that you do the same. It’d be much better for you to scent each other. He loves to tease you when you ask him to scent things for you.

“If you like it so much maybe I should make it into a perfume.” But he’d hate it if you actually agree. “Wait, let’s not be too hasty. A perfume really can’t compete with the natural source.”

Mating

Rafayel dislikes his mating cycle only because he dislikes losing his sense of control over himself. But when you’re there, with your scent clouding his mind, it’s all bets off. He’s so needy and HAS to have you. He feels like he’ll die if he isn’t burying himself in your scent, your presence, in you. He needs to feel your hands on him and isn’t below demeaning himself or being more forceful than usual to get it.

He’ll constantly seek you out, calling you late at night. He has nothing to say. He just needed to hear your voice, just keep breathing for him, he’s almost there. He needs you to come over to his place right now. It’s all your fault he’s burning like this. You need to get there immediately and take responsibility before he goes insane. He's already dizzy and his hand isn’t cutting it anymore.

In person, he grabs your hand, and the look in his eyes is begging in place of his mouth that’s too heavy with pants to talk straight as he savors your touch, desperate and gluttonous.

“Right there...don't make me beg…just a little bit longer.” “I need to feel you. There. You feel incredible.” “If you want my knot, you can have it. Say you want it for me, and I’ll give it to you. Say it.”

When it’s your turn to go manic, he’s going to have his revenge for all the bullying and petting you did while he was rutting. He’s going to coo and fawn over how much you need him, and make you ask him nicely for his touch, but he’ll always give in to his little mate. He knows what’ll make you feel good, and he’s going to give it to you in due time. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re about to cum, covered in sweat, body tensing, the shallow, quick breaths.

“I wish I could paint you like this, but I don’t want to look away.” “Do you really want me to breed you that bad? Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

Rafayel is going to make sure you have an easy time, clearing out your schedule for you and letting you stay in the studio with him. Thomas' calls are going to go unanswered for a while.

General

6/10 possessiveness level

Zayne is able to get jealous; however, he isn’t one to distrust you. It’s other people he doesn’t trust. He’ll drop hints he doesn’t like something you’re doing, a sarcastic jab here, a polite warning there, and even a “you should be careful of the company you keep.”. He always introduces himself as your mate to ensure there are no misconceptions about your relationship with him.

Zayne occasionally has to remind you that he’s your partner especially when you insist on teasing him and being a brat, poking at that jealous side of his to rile him up. It doesn’t take long for you to get the idea after having him between your legs. It’s really more of a funny thing, seeing him possessive, because he becomes a lot more short-tempered but absolutely refuses to admit he’s being possessive.

However, he calms relatively easy with some reassurance, and he doesn’t care as much if someone likes you after he knows you have zero interest in them. It’s more of an annoyance than something for him to fear.

Protectiveness Level: 10/10

Zayne is always so worried about you. He always has to tell you to be careful, to watch where you’re stepping so you don’t trip, to not drink too much without him there to take you home, and to watch for injuries. It might be a bit of his doctor attitude coming out, but it’s so much worse when it comes to you. You know no one else who adds the weather of the city you’re in to confirm you’re okay.

He’s also protective of your mental wellbeing; he tends to be the rock you rely on. If someone is bothering you, you can tell him, and he’ll be sure to handle the issue immediately.

Scenting

Scent: Bamboo Forest

Zayne smells like bamboo forests, a mix of floral and earthy. It kind of reminds you of him, calm and quiet but strong and solid like the earth. Fresh, green, and slightly woody. It smells like nature.

He scents you when you ask, and he quietly scents you when he wants, always overthinking if it’s something you want him to do or appropriate at a given point in time. It doesn’t take long for him to become better at knowing when you want it, when to leave something with his scent for you when you’re upset, and when to simply cradle you against him. His mood improves exponentially whenever you shove your face into his chest and mumble about how good he smells.

Zayne loves the way you smell. It’s a familiar and comforting thing to have your scent greeting him after a hard day at work. It lets him know you’re doing okay, and he gets worried whenever your scent is off. He can usually tell the slightest changes of your mood, and it makes him agitated whenever you try to pretend you’re fine when he can clearly tell different from smell alone.

Mating

Zayne tries his best to control himself and avoid you during his ruts. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, which leads him to being too restrained whenever he’s with you to the point where you can tell he’s not handling himself well.

It’s going to take a few times to convince him that you can handle it, that he can let go and give you everything before he finally allows himself to dive into his hormones, throw you against the bed, and kiss you hard. It's almost like a completely different side of him. Sure, he could always be dominant in the bedroom but there was always a control to it. Instead, he's instinctive, running off the rush of endorphins to reach the peak he desperately wants to tumble over, harsh and tunnel visioned as he chases the sensation of you clamping down around his knot.

“Hold it there, we’re almost there. You can handle it.” “Let me have you a few more times. Then, you can rest.” “Good girl. You’re doing so well. So good to me.”

During your time, he is meticulous. Zayne knows you almost as well as you know yourself, knows what sweets you like to eat, what positions make you the most comfortable, and tips on how to keep yourself together.

That only works so long, however, and soon he takes a more hands on approach in helping you through your heat cycle. His fingers curled up inside you, pushing that sweet springy spot inside you that has your juices pouring over his palm. He shushes you as you beg for him to give you more and more, to please stop this edging and fuck you already.

He promises he’ll make it good, but he has to slowly work you up first, so you won’t get overstimulated. Then, he’ll give you what you want until you pass out.

“Hold still, or do you want me to stop?” “Does it feel that good? I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.” “See what happens when you follow directions?” “You’ll have your reward soon. Which do you prefer to have—my fingers or my knot?”

Zayne also takes special care of you no matter the situation, making sure to wipe you off and hold a warm rag to your swollen and puffy cunt as he makes out with you. He scents you heavily afterward and lets you fall asleep against him until it all starts over again.

#rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnd x reader #xavier smut #rafayel smut #zayne smut #adelssmut #notsfw #omegaverse #abo #tw: omegaverse #female reader

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stars4ani · 7 months

Text

nsfw 18+

(i was picturing s1 rafe as i wrote this cos he’s so underrated)

rafe cameron is extremely short tempered, and jealous, especially when it comes to you..

you’re clinging onto his bicep and leaning your head on his shoulder, curled up next to him as he deals drugs.

“this is the- the best fuckin’ yayo around,” he’s telling the guys seated in front of him, “and it’s a damn good deal too, c’mon.”

you get stares from the people mingling in the same area, as you often do when you’re clung onto rafe. you’re known for being harmless, innocent even, so it always shocks people to see you with someone so… mean.

but rafe sees you as the sweetest thing ever, he always feels a need to protect you, especially from the very people he works with. when he notices one of the guys looking at you for a little too long, he pulls your shirt up to cover your cleavage and leans forward towards him.

“y’know what, no deal.” he scoffs and grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the closest bedroom he could find.

“calm down rafe!” you giggle, you know how he gets when he’s jealous, as tough and cold as he is, he still needs the reassurance that you’re all his. the soft kisses he leaves on your neck grow more desperate as he bunches your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head back as he trails down your collarbones.

“rafe- someone could open the door any second and see.” you squirm slightly, putting your hands on his chest to create some distance.

“let them see baby, you’re lucky i didn’t fuck you in front of ‘em.” he chuckles dismissively, backing you up towards the bed and pushing you down softly. you don’t even know what to say, blushing at your boyfriends dirty words.

“yeah, you know you like that shit, what would your friends think huh?”

you grow slick, he’s right, you did like the way he spoke to you, the way he treated you in the bedroom was so different in comparison to the way he usually treated you.

with your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer, he’s impossibly deep inside of your fluttering walls. his big hands on your shoulders, almost covering them completely while his grip doesn’t seem to falter, strong arms never getting tired. you let out small gasps as he brings his hand down to your lower stomach, pushing down before he lets his thumb circle your puffy clit. your whines grow more desperate, moving your hips up to meet his as you get closer.

“wish he could- fuck- wish he could see you like this right now.” he pants, mind still stuck on the guy from earlier, thrusts remaining consistent.

“stop- stop talking- mmph- stop talking about him rafe,” your voice is shaky, you’re barely able to form a coherent thought in your head, “i’m all yours, okay?” you reassure.

that’s enough to push him over the edge, spilling inside of you. he pulls out and uses his fingers to push his cum back inside of you, pulling up your panties and giving your fucked out cunt a light tap. you shiver and shoot him a confused glance. he puts his clothes on, urging you to do the same before walking back out with a hand on the small of your back.

“gotta mark what’s mine baby.”

#rafe♡︎#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader

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wonbriiize · 9 months

Note

bestfriend!Anton who puts you on his lap to give you affection, touches your hair, kisses you on the neck...being super clingy and fluffy :(

pairing; anton x reader

genre; fluff, best friends to lovers

note; i thought this was such a cute idea so i wrote something based on it.. hope u like it anon ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

listen to your heart

while working in retail isn’t all that horrible most of the time, you despise it over the holidays. everyone goes crazy as they search for last-minute christmas presents for their loved ones, friends or anyone else.

today was one of those days when everything was so annoying that you really thought about quitting your job right then and there.

luckily, your shift has ended and you are now on your way back home. you seem to be forgetting what a terrible day it has been so far as you imagine yourself curled up in your warm bed while drinking hot choco and watching your comfort movie.

“*y/n*, someone is waiting for you in your room,” your mom says after giving you a big hug when you arrive at home.

you‘re confused as to who it could be, until you recall that your best friend anton texted you saying he‘d drop by later as you were spamming him with messages about that one costumer who was extremely rude to you.

you run up the stairs to your room. you’re not so sure why you’re so eager to see anton, but you can’t help yourself. being with anton after a tiring day makes you feel at ease. he just has that effect on you.

“ohhh, slow down,” anton sits up on your bed. you can tell he made himself feel at home because just a second ago he was laying in your bed as if it was his own. “why are you running? is the rude customer after you?”

since you can’t tell anton that you hurried up to your room because of him, you just throw yourself on your bed. “no, i just really missed my bed. it has been an exhausting day.”

“and here i was hoping that you were running because you couldn’t wait to see me,” anton pouts, leaning back on your bed.

you’re right, you think. but i can’t let you know..

“well, apparently you were missing me because how are you at my house when i’m not even there?”

anton shrugs. “so what if i missed you, is it so wrong to miss your best friend?”

you’re shocked at how casually anton can say things like this. does he truly not realise how much of an impact his words have on you? it irritates you that he's saying these things and acting so dreamy when you're already trying to shake the thought that you like him — much more than you could ever imagine liking someone.

you sigh, laying down on your back. “i just really need to rest.”

“hey, come here,” anton pats next to him. “we can rest together.”

for a second, you’re not sure if you should really go and sit down next to him, because your feelings are all over the place today and you don’t know what could happen, but you push those thoughts aside and just go for it.

“you can lay your head on my lap. i will give you a head massage. i‘m a pro,” anton softly smiles at you.

god, he really isn’t making it easy to not fall in love with him, you sigh. your head is telling you not to do it, but for once in your life, you decide to listen to your heart instead.

you place your head gently on anton‘s lap. you’re afraid you won't be able to resist kissing anton if you open your eyes and see him staring down at you, hence why your eyes are closed.

anton starts massaging your head softly and you’re surprised at how good it actually feels.

“i didn’t expect you to be actually good at this,” you say.

“i told you i‘m a pro,” anton chuckles. hearing him giggle put a smile on your face and usually you would try to hide that, but right now, you’re just letting it happen.

“there it is,” anton whispers softly as he touches your cheek, causing you to open your eyes immediately.

“what?”

“your beautiful smile.”

you start laughing nervously. what’s his deal? why is he being extra sweet today?

“don’t say such things, anton.”

“why not?" his hand returns to your head, but instead of giving it a massage, he plays with your hair, twisting it around with his index finger.

“best friends don’t say that..” what you just said has a sad undertone, but you don’t care. maybe if anton knows that he’s kind of playing with your feelings, he will stop being like that.

anton shakes his head. “no, they don’t.. but here’s the thing, *y/n*..”

the sudden change in the atmosphere makes you nervous so you sit up. still close to anton, but there’s a little distance between the two of you now.

“i‘ve been trying to tell you for the longest time that i don’t want to be just best friends with you,” anton blurts out. “i thought it was obvious that i like you.”

world stop. anton likes me?

“but everytime i try to make a move you put me back in the friendzone, saying things like ‘best friends don’t do that..”

with a sincere expression of sadness that makes your heart hurt, anton glances down at his hands.

“i guess you really don’t like me in that way and i was just stupid to to think that-”

refusing to let anton continue, you take hold of his hand and place it directly over your heart.

“do you feel this?” you whisper.

anton nods unsure.

“my heart beats this fast everytime i‘m with you.”

“is that a good or a bad sign?” anton pulls his hand away and looks questionably at you.

his question makes you laugh. “of course it’s a good sign.. it means that you’re the reason why my heart feels so alive.”

“oh,” anton nods, a little smile forming on his face. “so you do like me.”

now it’s you who’s nodding.

just a while ago you didn’t want anton to know how you really feel about him because you were so afraid that the feeling was one-sided, but now that you know it’s mutual, you’re ready to take the initiative.

you slip closer to anton and sit down on his lap. first he’s surprised at your sudden move, but then you feel his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

seconds later, your lips meet his. not only was your heart racing faster than before, but because your bodies were so close, you could literally feel anton‘s heart racing as well.

you weren't expecting it, but as anton plastered kisses all over your face and neck, things heated up quickly. you didn't want him to stop, but knowing that your parents could walk into your room at any point made you want to go slowly.

“maybe we should continue this when we are alone, like completely,” you whisper as anton was kissing your neck.

“hmmm,” kiss. “maybe..” kiss. “you‘re..” kiss. “right.”

he stops, looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“this big smile looks good on you,” you put your arms around antons neck.

“and you know why i’m smiling like this? it’s because of you,” anton softly whispers before he plants another kiss on your lips.

#riize #riize imagines #riize fics #kpop #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize anton #anton lee #lee chanyoung #anton x reader #anton fluff #boyfriend anton #riize oneshots #riize short story #x reader #anton scenarios #sumi‘s requests ೀ

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breekento · 9 months

Text

A lot of people describe and give Nanami and Higuruma the same character traits and personalities and while I do think they are similar in terms of overworked and tired men in suits, I think they are very different. (This is all my own head cannons don’t get mad at me)

Nanami, to me, at least is more quiet and reserved than Higuruma. He is more serious. Physically, he’s much more muscular and husky. As a partner I think he would be extremely protective and nurturing, always providing and nurturing. Although he is protective, I don’t think it comes from a place of jealousy but of a place of not wanting to lose you. Getting angry with you for forgetting to lock the door or inviting someone in that he didn’t know. I feel like he has very expensive and loud taste, I.e. the cowprint tie, the goggles, he has a very interesting style that has fun patterns and colors while still maintaining the mature and elevated appearance. I don’t think Nanami has a casual bone in his body when it comes to his clothing. Maybe his idea of “casual” would be slacks and a short sleeve button up. If anything, pajamas would be his only outfit that isn’t professional enough to wear to work. He just seems like the type of man to care about his appearance and always wanted to be perceived in a mature manner. I hate when people try to dress him in streetwear like that is not my man.

Higuruma is more sarcastic and goofy. I imagine him poking fun more than Nanami and having a very dry and sarcastic humor that a lot of people wouldn’t get. To me, I always imagine him as being more tall and lanky rather than muscular. Long legs, long arms, long fingers, just long. And you know what they say about skinny guys 🙈 As a partner I think he would be very romantic. I write him in my fics to be very dramatic about his love, like he would die if he couldn’t have you. He seems very all or nothing. I think his taste is more simple than Nanami’s. Wearing more classic suits and ties. I think Higuruma would dress much more casually than Nanami, even wearing jeans. Still very simple though, like denim, solid color tops and jackets that are well taken care of and styled. Maybe it’s the hair but I imagine him suiting a more “greaser” type aesthetic but with a classy twist like a silk white button up instead of a cuffed white short sleeve shirt.

I don’t know why I wrote this but I’ve been thinking about their similarities and differences for a minute now and just had to share.

#jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanamin #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader

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firestorm09890 · 4 months

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there's a part of canto vi I've been thinking about since it came out, and it doesn't actually have anything to do with Heathcliff.

this

She is bitter as fuck and as time goes on she's getting worse at keeping it down. Sinclair's the one who started it, by talking about how sad it is that they'd never get to see color, and Rodya starts to get a little irritated over it (yeah, sure, pity the Backstreets folk and their poor miserable little lives, privileged nest boy), but she's obviously trying not to straight up call Sinclair a privileged nest boy because she doesn't want to. But then Yi Sang and Ishmael join in on talking about how sad this place is with no color and she just can't keep her opinion down.

But that makes the atmosphere tense, and she hates a tense atmosphere, so she changes the subject and her tone, not giving a damn about how obvious it is. also, haha, ice and cold references.

And actually, this doesn't really have much evidence to support it, but I wonder if she holds a higher level of resentment for Sinclair in particular.

Canto II had some discussion about how Rodya wishes she was special (and while I think what Sonya said about her killing the tax collector just to feel special is absolute bullshit, I do also think there is some truth to her wanting to feel special), and introduced us to the concept of The Sign in a way that was vague and more like foreshadowing than actually introducing it. Then Canto III was all about The Sign, and how special Sinclair is, and since then we've had people talking about signs and stars and a new birth of the world and it's all stuff Rodya doesn't get to be part of.

I don't think she wants to hold resentment for Sinclair, and she especially never wants him to know, but going back after all this time and rereading this one interaction with him in Canto II felt pretty jarring.

the more important part of this is the way it feels like she's making a joke at Heathcliff's expense, for being poor, like even though she's also from the Backstreets she feels she's "above" it.

She absolutely does not feel this way.

On my way to find the first passage, I reread some other interesting stuff:

Once again, there's the harsh juxtaposition between casual, fun-loving Rodya, and tired, poor man's advocate Rodya. Almost everyone on the team speaks through the lens of a Nest dweller (I have to wonder if learning that Heathcliff was apparently raised in a mansion made her even more bitter), and the way she's so short with her mention of the Sweepers makes me think she's thinking about how painfully obvious it would have been to any other Backstreets dweller. And then, right after, dropping back into her casual voice, and Sinclair revealing that Rodya used the fucked up Backstreets creature to tease him...

Other obvious moments of Rodya being bitter as hell about rich people include this part of S.E.A.

and this part of her observation logs on Spiral of Contempt (actually, nearly everything in that log that isn't about the physical abnormality has to do with how much she hates how rich people look down upon the poor)

Hong Lu's canto comes after Don's, and then after his is Ryōshū's, who, based on her source material, probably served one of the most awful, contemptuous rich people the sinners have access to, and I really hope at some point here Rodya gets to snap in a big way

...hey so I wrote this entire post at 1 in the morning and then saved it to drafts because I didn't want to post something at 1 in the morning. the Timekilling Time trailer came out about two hours later, featuring both Rodya... and the long-awaited return of the Yurodiviye. so now it's past 3 in the morning for me but I'm posting it now anyway because ohohoho seeing the Yurodiviye again has given me SO much energy

I have a feeling all this is going to be very relevant extremely soon

#limbus company #project moon #rodion #rodion lcb #lcb rodion #she's not even in my top 3 favorite sinners but she's so interesting to me #similar to lexaeus kingdomhearts except unlike him I know project moon are actually cooking something with rodya #rest in peace background character king #me post

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youaintnothinbuta · 3 months

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“I promise you the bed will be so much comfier” — Austin butler x reader

Summary: you are Florence’s bestie and meet Austin through her while she’s on set during filming for Dune :)

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: fluff! Slow burn, no real romance, friends before dating typa cuteness! I wrote this while extremely tired so sorry if there are typos </3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your best friend, Florence, was in the UAE for filming for Dune. When Florence told you she was going to be spending those 5 shooting weeks either in the desert or alone in the apartment they would provide for her, you offered to find some time to visit her for a bit, but it ended up in you just coming with her for almost the whole time.

You settled into a routine with her nicely, though you didn’t see much of her for more than a few hours at a time. Mostly you filled your time with exploring the nearby areas, reading and occasionally visiting Flo on set. It was during one of these days that you first met Austin.

It was easy to get along with his relaxed demeanour, and his charm made it even easier to strike up a friendship of sorts. It wasn’t long before your friendship with him felt as though there wasn’t a time where you hadn’t known each other.

One early morning, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. Sleep eluded you, and the more you tried to force it, the more restless you became. Frustrated and tired, you grabbed your phone to check the time. 6:14. Florence had long shoot this day and you didn’t want to wake her up any earlier she had to be up. Pushing past the straining sensation the light of your phone gave your eyes, you decided to text Austin, who didn’t have to be on set until the evening.

“You awake? I can’t sleep.”

No reply as you scrolled aimlessly, waiting. Figuring his silence was a ‘no,’ you put your phone down and tried for the hundredth time to fall asleep. Just as the the room fell back to darkness, a buzz beside your head alerted you back to full consciousness.

“I am. Come over, door will be unlocked for you.”

You didn’t hesitate. All the cast and crew were staying in houses along the same strip and Austin’s was conveniently just across the road. You slipped on your shoes and quietly made your way over, the early morning air cool and refreshing against your skin as you knocked lightly before pushing the door open. You found Austin in the kitchen, already making his breakfast and a coffee.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a warm smile, “you look sleepy.”

“Because I am,” you replied, with slightly more attitude than you intended, “I just couldn’t get comfortable.”

You turned to leave, going to curl up at the end of the couch in the living room.

He soon joined you, placing his food on the coffee table. You lifted your head from the back of the sofa to look up at him.

Austin motioned towards his bedroom. “If you want to try and get some more sleep, I promise you the bed will be so much comfier.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, hesitating for a moment.

“Yeah, of course,” Austin said, leading you towards his room. “Make yourself at home.”

You slipped into his bed, instantly feeling enveloped in comfort. Austin closed the curtains but left the door open, ensuring you could rest without feeling too closed in. His sheets smelt divine, just like the way he smelt every day, but softer. And between you and well, you, there may have been some feelings starting to develop for him.

You actually did manage to get some rest, when the sound of conversation woke you. You heard Florence’s voice ask if he’d seen you.

Austin replied, “Yeah, she’s in bed,” nodding towards his room.

Concern painted Flo’s face, “she slept with you?”

Austin shook his head, setting down his coffee. "No, she came over earlier. She’s just having a nap. She couldn’t sleep at your place."

Florence crossed her arms, studying him carefully. "Mhm. And are you trying to sleep with her?"

Austin met her gaze evenly. "No, I’m not trying to sleep with her."

"So, there are no feelings for her? And it’s normal for you to let anyone you’ve known four weeks sleep in your bed?" Florence pressed, her concern evident. She was your best friend, and you did only know Austin a few weeks. She really was only looking out for you, even if she was being a bit pushy for half seven in the morning.

Austin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Right now, my feelings for her are friend deep because that is all I’ll let them be. If she makes it clear to me that she wants me to make my move, then I will allow myself to feel more.”

Florence nodded slowly, her expression softening. "I just don’t want you hurting her."

"I promise, that is the very last thing I want to do," Austin assured her.

Florence glanced towards the bedroom, then back at Austin. "Alright, I’ve got to go. I’m already late. Thanks for the breakfast," she said, holding up the small to-go container he gave her.

"No problem," Austin replied with a warm smile. "Don’t work too hard."

Florence gave him a cheeky nod and grin before disappearing, her voice yelling, “I will hurt you if I find out you try anything on her,” earning a laugh from Austin.

You decided to pretend to still be asleep so he wouldn’t know you heard any of their conversation. Austin took a moment to gather himself before heading towards his bedroom where he thought you were still sleeping. He approached the doorframe and knocked gently. You groaned softly, stirring but not quite waking.

"Sorry," Austin whispered, not wanting to startle you. "Are you ready for some breakfast?"

You shook your head, still half-buried in the pillows. Austin smiled softly, about to walk away, when he heard you mumble his name.

"Yeah?" he responded, turning back towards you.

You reached out towards him, and he stepped closer, thinking you were asking for help getting up. But instead of taking his hand, you wrapped your arms around his neck, insisting on being held.

He leaned down, his strong arms easily lifting her from the bed. You nestled against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

"Where do you want to go? The couch?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, your hair brushing against his cheek. You laid your head more comfortably on his shoulder, and Austin took the cue, gently swaying back and forth, like rocking a baby. His arms were strong and steady, capable of holding you for as long as you needed him to.

You stayed like this for several minutes, the morning light casting a soft glow through the partially closed curtains. Austin felt a deep sense of peace, content just to be there with you. Eventually, he felt you shift slightly, a sign that you were ready to move. He lowered you gently back down, your feet touching the floor. You looked up at him with a shy smile, your eyes filled with warmth.

"Let’s get you some breakfast,” he smiled back.

A/N: hi I’m back !! I missed y’all 🥹 sorry this is bleh imma bit rusty

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sundrop-writes · 8 months

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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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wonijinjin · 10 months

Text

seventeen’s hiphop unit when their s/o falls asleep on them

author’s note: was feeling tired, wrote it quickly hehe. let me know if you guys want the other unit versions aswell! the vocal unit version of the fic is available here.

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 0.7k | genre: pure fluffiest fluff | pairings: hiphop unit x gn! reader | warnings: mention of food in wonwoo’s

you were laying in bed with cheol, pillowtalk being the routine of most of your nights, just casually discussing how you spent your day. “then i had to scold mingyu because he wasn’t listening and we couldn’t make progress regarding the lyrics.” he explained, voice low and quiet, waiting for your usual giggles about his members being silly as always, but silence was your only reply. he looked down at you on his chest, seeing your eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a bit of drool coming out of it, right onto his shirt. “seriously? man, my shirt is gonna get soaked.” he sulked jokingly, knowing fully well you couldn’t hear him, otherwise it would’ve earned a betrayed whine from you. “you are lucky you’re cute, i will let it slide this time.” he giggled while trying his best to keep his voice down as much a possible. he rubbed your back while looking head over heels at you, easing you to dreamland even more so, whispering. “good night my love, see you in the morning. i love you.”

wonwoo knew you were tired the moment he saw you when he arrived at home, so he figured that it would be a matter of time when you were gonna stop fighting sleep and let your eyelids get heavy. he was editing the photos he took on his walk earlier, you snuggled up into his side, watching him do his magic in different editing softvers on his laptop. “these pictures are so pretty wonwoo.” you said sleepily. he smiled softly while looking into your eyes. “thank you sweetheart, but you are way prettier.” his cheesy line normally would’ve made you burst out laughing, but as he expected you were already half asleep, eyes closing for longer amounts of time every minute. a moment later he sensed how your head felt heavier on his torso; he kissed your forehead and patted the crown of your hair, smiling sheepishly to himself seeing you rest at last. “my sweet baby.” he said while shutting his laptop down, holding you closer to him.

“wow, the special effects are amazing!” you commented to which mingyu hummed in agreement. you and mingyu were watching a movie, your head in his lap. you were invested in the plot, but it was a bit late in the evening. in fact it was so late that mingyu had actually kind of dozed off for a few minutes, resting his eyes after hours of work with woozi in his studio, the screen’s hue taking a turn on his optic nerves. when he opened his eyes he did not expect to find you asleep, especially since you chose the movie; it was one of your favourite director’s new films. he took a moment to just stare at your face shamelessly, feeling like he was falling in love all over again; your cheeks were squished into his thigh, nose scrunching up from time to time thanks to a few strands of hair tickling it. you were just so adorable in his eyes. he brushed the hair out of your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “i am so lucky to have you. i will always protect you, my darling.” he muttered, draping a blanket that was resting on the couch next to him over your slumbering form.

you were in the practice room with vernon since he had to work overtime with their newest comeback approaching, you offering to stay until the end so the two of you could go home together. he knew you were exhausted from all the exams you had to take, and even tried to talk you out of staying, but you insisted, getting into a comfortable position on the floor, head resting against the wall. he sat down next to you, drinking a bottle of water while you put your head on his shoulder. “i should’ve urged you to go home. look at you, so tired and in an uncomfortable room!” he whined, feeling extremely guilty about the situation. you didn’t reply to which he raised his head a little, upon doing so seeing your relaxed face, soft snores and breaths escaping your mouth. he slowly lowered your head into his lap, but not before putting his hoodie on it, making up for the lack of a soft pillow. “i should take a break anyways. sweet dreams, babe.” he smiled, gently kissing your lips.

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beeing1alive · 6 months

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Cuddling with Tokyo Revengers - Boys

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya)

Mikey:

l can imagine that it depends entirely on his mood and the situation

for example, if he is doing well and everything is okay, he would be playful

first you would have a tickle fight until one of you (usually him) gets so tired that you have to stop and then you just lie there like that

it just looks funny how you fall asleep completely tangled up in each other

but I am of the opinion that Mikey also sees something comforting in cuddling

so he also comes to cuddle when he is depressed

he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to be with you and sink into your calming aura

then he lies on your chest, his face buried deep in the crook of your neck and listens to the soft boom-boom, boom-boom of your heartbeat

your heartbeat and the warmth your body radiates are the most calming thing in the world for him

Draken:

he is so big

he always wraps his arms around you completely

so he can protect and warm you, that's also what he loves about it so much

but also loves it very much when you cling to him so that he doesn't get up in the morning but stays lying down so that you can still cuddle

it often works, especially because he finds you so damn cute at such times

He doesn't know by himself, but somehow it relaxes him extremely when you gently trace his dragon tattoo with your fingers

or when you whisper sweet nothings in his ear while cuddling

it may not look like it from the outside, but he really likes compliments

he likes it best when he can hear you breathing softly next to him

loves cuddling after a Toman meeting the most, as being the vice-chairman can be quite exhausting

he just melts every time you cuddle

Mitsuya:

just for the record, he is a person with a robust confer and a gentle soul

he loves to spoon you gently, both as a small spoon and as a big spoon but likes to be a bit more of a big spoon because he is sweet and wants you to feel loved, protected and secure

loves to be fondled, whether on his head, on his back or anywhere else

he simply falls asleep within 2 minutes

when cuddling, he can forget his worries and duties for a moment and relax completely in your arms

he has so much responsibility that he sometimes forgets that he is just a teenager and the peace and quiet he gets when cuddling reminds him again and again

His favourite thing about cuddling is the feeling of your chest rising and falling slowly and evenly and how he can feel it against his chest or back

I also wrote other scenarios for them and other characters, so here is my masterlist if you want to check it out, requests are open <3

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

I hope you liked it <3

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year

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For A Cuddle?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this this morning bc the brainrot is real

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

Word Count: 535

Masterlist

AO3

You're so tired. Your eyelids droop, almost fluttering shut, before you blink them open once more. It's late at night. You haven't slept at all. You certainly could, if you allowed yourself to give in to the warm embrace of dreams. But you didn't.

Astarion went out to hunt a while ago, and hasn't come back yet. This was completely normal. Sometimes he'd be out all night and only come back in the wee hours of the morning. Other times he was gone for just a few hours. You don't recall when exactly he left - so you can't really tell if it's been a couple hours or several. All you know is you feel wrong laying in your bedroll without him. There is an emptiness that could only be filled by him.

You were so tired - you didn't need him to be there to sleep. You could sleep now. And tomorrow you could ask him to lay with you until you fell asleep, before he goes hunting. But tomorrow was so far away. You wanted him beside you now.

"Still awake, darling?" Had you been more lucid, his voice would have startled you. He'd have laughed and remarked on your lackluster performance as a lookout. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

You hummed noncommittally, rolling over toward the sound of his voice. He was kneeling by your bedroll. It was extremely reminiscent of the time he tried to sneak a bite. Now you freely allowed him a drink whenever he wanted it. "S'waiting for you," you murmur. He almost can't make out the words.

"Why is that?" he asks softly. His voice is so nice... His hand brushes through your hair. "Why did you stay up, my dear?"

"Lay with me?" It's almost a whimper. A plea.

He huffs a laugh. "You stayed up for a cuddle?"

You nod, leaning into his fingers as they gently detangle knots and massage your scalp. "Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He watches you force your eyes open repeatedly, trying to keep them trained on his face even as exhaustion blurred his features into a pale blob. Every time he runs his fingers from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck, they fall shut just a little longer. When he's quiet for too long, lost in studying your face, you make a sort of whining noise and reach clumsily for him. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"Calm down, love, I'll stay."

You watch as best you can as he shuffles to lay down beside you. Before he can get fully comfortable, you're pressing your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him. You don't complain when he continues to shift and get settled in. Once he does, however, he can feel your body fall slack in his arms. Your breath evens out against his neck; your heart slows to a steady thrum.

He presses a kiss to your head. Your hair is greasy, with flecks of dried blood scattered throughout, and you didn't smell too pleasant either. But you were soft and warm, and he couldn't find it in himself to care otherwise.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #second person pov #pov second person #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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deadghosy · 7 months

Text

How they react to you throwing up:

(Wrote this cause I also thrown up 🥲)

LUCIFER

Panicking.

Straight up panicking as he holds your hair back or just pats your back.

If you are crying after throwing up and are weak. He literally rushes to make you soup and maybe even a customize duck blanket he made for you for Christmas.

If you tried to get out of bed, he’s pushing you back in bed gently with a stern look.

He’s not letting you lift a finger at all

He stays while you sleep having a trash can by you just in case you thrown up.

CHARLIE

She’s freaking worried and kinda scared you have something serious until you tell her it might just be a sickness or bug.6

She pulls your hair back patting your back.

If you are too tired to get up she lifts you up with ease as you sniffle after throwing up. She lays you down getting razzle and dazzle to keep you company as she fixes you noodle soup to be better. She even gets you a water bottle.

She doesn’t like seeing you sick so she hope you get better.

She stays to make sure you need anything else before she leaves. She would check your temperature every 30 minutes just to make sure.

VAGGIE

She’s concerned but not worried sick as this is normal. She knows what to do for you.

Stays beside you as you throw up as she goes your hair back. She has a water bottle ready in hand just incase you need it.

She thinks it’s a bug since you haven’t been feeling yourself which worried her.

She has Charlie give you crackers and soup so you can eat something if you feel better at least.

She knows what to do as she have been sick herself at times. Of course she is staying by your side while you sleep or eat your soup weakly. She can’t just leave your side without knowing you aren’t getting better.

ANGEL DUST

“Are you pregnant?”

That’s what the fucker would asked to lighten the mood, but you glared at him with a sick expression not liking the joke.

He thinks maybe it’s because you drank too much, but really he doubts it since you drank hard before and never thrown up like this.

He then stopped joking as he helps clean you up while making you a bath to relax in as your body was obviously weak with shaking legs like a scared doe.

He has Charlie to help him learn how to make a soup to settle your stomach.

HUSK

“Fuck is wrong with you?”

This grumpy kitty is calm as he drinks while watching you throw up. He grumbles leaving the bathroom as you finish throwing up.

Shit you thought he left you like a bitch but nah he came back with a water bottle grumbling at how could you even get yourself this sick.

He might as well throw a towel for you to clean up your face as he’s not getting too close at first.

He lets you only this time cuddle him for comfort as he purrs with a blank face. He stares at your red face from your fever as he scoffs holding you close grabbing the thermometer for you.

ALASTOR

“Ah darling. This won’t do at all. Not at all.”

He smiles taking you to bed as he grabs the thermometer as his shadow try to fix you up and get you comfortable in bed.

You accidentally thrown up on him and you were so embarrassed by that as you covered your face expecting him to be mad as he only chuckled

“DONT worry darling! It’s only a stain.” He says taking off his jacket.

He understands you can’t control it so he helps you get better. He can’t leave a ‘dear’ friend in needing of help.

SIR PENTIOUS

“Holy fucking shit! Are you okay [Name]??”

Pentious is worried and is extremely scared at what is happening to you.

Charlie has to calm him down saying it’s probably a stomach bug. So he calms down and listens to Charlie for how to take care of you.

He gets his egg boiz to check up on you as they surround you with a worried expression

“Boss are they dying?…please don’t die boss’s friend!” Frank yells hugging your leg as you groan by the toilet.

The sweet egg boi really wanted you to feel better as Pentious grabs the soup for you and water with a side of crackers.

He definitely gets the alphabet soup as he smiles at you happily

#hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin lucifer #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #hazbin vaggie #sir pentious #hazbin sir pentious #sick rn #sick reader

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retroellie · 8 months

Text

Phone Call

Summary: You were frustrated, beyond tired of your boyfriend always ditching you for his team. So you decided to show him just how frustrated you were while he was on the phone with his boss.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted on the poll! I wrote this really fast so it's a bit messy, but enjoy it anyways <3

Warnings: NSFW, Sex while on the phone, Slight dirty talk, normal CM talk

Word count: 4.1k

Recently, Spencer has been away a lot. He told you that it was most likely because it's summer and "statically most serial killers strike in the summer". You didn't care what season serial killers strike in, you only cared that Spencer was away from you. It always worried you, always frustrated you that his coworkers got to spend more time with him than you did. Even though Spencer made sure to call you every chance he got, you hated how much time this job had taken away from you and Spencer. You were sometimes afraid you would end up like Hotch and Haley, lovers one day and then the next complete strangers as if your love never existed. However, your fear was quickly shut down as soon as Spencer got home.

Most nights when Spencer returned would always end up like tonight, with you and Spencer trying desperately to get each other off. Spencer had come home late, his eye bags looking worse than ever but he didn't care. He went into your shared room and started ripping your clothes off, whispering how much he missed you into your ear. What Spencer lacked in being present he made up for in worshiping your body every chance he got. It started off as a makeout session, his hands groping you through your clothes... but it led to you on top of him, hips burning as you thrust down on him. You both were tired, both worn down, and both extremely horny with just one look at each other.

"Fuck..." You moaned out, hands scratching at Spencer's chest as you picked up the speed of your hips.

Spencer threw his head into the pillows, feeling your pace quicken and your pussy tighten around him. No matter how many times you have had Spencer deep inside you, it never fails to amaze you just how perfect he felt inside you as if he was built just for you. With each thrust of your hips, his cock penetrated the spongy area inside of you, hitting your G-spot almost perfectly. His hands were placed on your hips as he helped you bounce and roll your hips up and down, urging you to go ever faster.

You were on the edge, your pussy clenching tighter and tighter around Spencer which led him to his climax with you. This was pure ecstasy, no drug on the planet could make you feel any higher than how Spencer did. You could never get enough of him, ever. His smile, his voice, his stupid facts he told you about, his soft snores at night, the way his cock curved slightly, his soft tummy... he was your drug. The fact of you being so addicted to him created some very unusual situations that Spencer would never in a million years think he would be in. Like one time you dragged him into the girls' bathroom of the FBI headquarters and fucked him silly. Then another time you sent nudes to him on the FBI jet basically forcing him to jack off in the jar bathroom only 3 feet away from his team. In other words, He was just as addicted.

You were high in the clouds, somewhere on another planet as you rode his cock harder, trying to get you both off even throughout your body's exhaustion. Your body felt as though it had been set on fire, kicked around, and then kissed softly. Then suddenly, the fire had cooled over with one simple sound. Spencer's phone.

You stopped your movements, both you and Spencer looking at his phone that was set on his nightstand. The feeling of your climaxes far away now, being ripped away by the sound that echoed through the room. You both had heard that sound too often, been woken up by it in the cold hours of the night, been haunted by it everywhere you went. It felt like someone always needed Spencer more than you needed him, this was a fight you both had often. You looked over at Spencer, his eyes glassy but written with shock. You hoped that Spencer would ignore it just this once, allowing you both to orgasm finally before he decided to run away from you again. No... only that would happen in a perfect world, Spencer was going to take the call. You knew what you were getting into before you started dating Spencer, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. Spencer gave you a sympathetic look, causing you to slouch over and sigh.

"It's Hotch. " He said simply, his hand reaching for his phone as his other one drew circles on your hip as a way to apologize. "I'm sorry, I have to take it."

You were beyond upset, your heart tightly in your chest as you could feel yourself fighting not to cry, you silently cursed yourself for being a crier when frustrated. Not only is your boyfriend choosing work over you but you are also so close to cumming, so close to that release you've needed all week. You rolled your eyes, pulling your long shirt down angrily as you popped yourself off Spencer.

"Fine, answer your boyfriend...." You plopped down on the bed next to Spencer, watching him cover himself with the covers and looking over at you.

He was about to say something but decided not to fight about it. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard as he pressed the phone to his ear. Even the sound of his voice as he said "hello" created a deep ache in your stomach, your failed orgasm lingering as you pouted next to Spencer. You knew how much this job meant to Spencer, but it just wasn't fair in your eyes. He just got home not even an hour ago yet his team wants him back? When do you get a turn to be with him? You wondered if any of this was actually even worth it, this deep pain you felt in your chest. You loved Spencer so much it hurt but you can't take much more of this frustration that has built up over the months. Even in your own home, you couldn't have him to yourself... not even for a night.

"Yeah, I made sure Penelope sent that to you..." Spencer spoke, the conversation having no significance to you, only the fact that this interrupted your much-needed cock riding session. "I'll have her resend it if you can't find it."

You sighed softly, watching the ceiling as you waited patiently for the call to be over even though you weren't even sure if you wanted to continue what you had started. You were too upset now and you would become more upset after the 30-minute phone call Spencer just had to take. That gave you an idea, an idea that would fix both of your problems... almost like killing two birds with one stone type situation. You sat up once more, looking back at Spencer as he spoke and he paid no attention to you... clearly in his own little world.

"The records didn't show that, he must've gotten them removed somehow." Spencer continued, completely oblivious to your nasty idea.

You innocently smiled over at him as he spoke, a new coat of slick pooling on the bed below you. You shifted yourself back into the position you were in right before the phone call. Spencer gave you a quick smile, thinking that maybe you were just being affectionate. His smile sent a rush through your body, the feeling that he will soon be as frustrated as you are finding its way down to your core. Your anger had completely turned you bitter, you're tired and sexually frustrated so you would give anything just to see an ounce of just that on Spencer's face.

You started it off innocent, giving him soft kisses on his cheeks and his neck. He didn't notice it really, too focused on Hotch's voice to even consider what you were doing. Hotch had asked Spencer about a case report he did, the case was a very tedious one and Spencer's report wasn't completely coherent to those who read it. Although Spencer's reports are never really understood by the reader, he usually went on rants and snuck in small statics that he never actually cited... but the bottom line is that because of Spencer's genius brain, this call was going to be a long one. You would probably end up falling asleep waiting for him to finish it, you had work in the morning and couldn't afford to work on lack of sleep like Spencer did.

You sucked softly on his neck, kissing and lapping at his neck that was already painted with bite marks that you created earlier tonight. Spencer placed a hand on your hip, rubbing it softly once again as you covered his neck with love marks, something that he will definitely scold you for tomorrow. You didn't really care too much if you're honest, all you were worried about at the moment was getting off. So cock hungry it almost hurt as your stomach was still tight with that coil that almost came undone not even 15 minutes ago.

You couldn't help yourself but grind softly against Spencer, your bare cunt rubbing against Spencer's cock. He wasn't expecting this movement, groaning softly as your warmth teased his already throbbing cock. Spencer squeezed your hip, his nails softly digging into your soft skin as a way to tell you to stop. If that didn't do it, his scolding face would. You took your face away from his neck, giving him innocent eyes as he continued to scold you, saying something to hotch as you bit your lip softly. You stopped your movements for only a second before you ground down harder on him, this time his hardened cock softly entering your wet cunt.

"Yeah umm...." Spencer stuttered out to Hotch, trying to stifle his moan. "Hey hotch, give me a second..."

Spencer waited for Hotch's response before he took the phone away from his ear and muted himself. He looked up at you, trying to be stern with you but couldn't help the blush that had risen on his cheek. It's not that Spencer didn't want you or wanted Hotch to call him in the middle of fucking you, but this was important and he needed to do his job. He understood that maybe you wouldn't understand that, anyone with a working brain wouldn't understand why his work was so important to him, so he tried to be sympathetic with you. The weight of this job was enough on him so he did everything in his power not to affect you, but some things are unavoidable... He knew you didn't sign up for this. So he understood your behavior, how frustrating this could be for the love of his life.

"Look, I'll hurry the phone call, okay?" He gave you a grin, leaning up to peck your lips softly. The kiss was supposed to be innocent but you were far from an innocent mood. You turned it into a hard, passion-filled kiss hoping that it would make Spencer put the phone down and give you what you needed... but of course, Spencer pulled away. "Y/n... This is important, give me 15 more minutes then I'll do whatever you want."

He sighed softly, putting the phone back to his ear and continuing his conversation with Hotch as if nothing had happened. The word "important" sent shivers down your spine, what did he consider important? Was his job more important than his lonely girlfriend or were you just not enough for him to want so badly he would drop everything? You knew some men who would ruin their lives for even just a glimpse of your tits. So why wasn't Spencer hopping to the opportunity? The insecurity sat hard on your stomach, dancing around with the coil and the anger that resided in the pit of your belly. You huffed softly, sitting back on your knees as you watched Spencer completely ignore you and continue on with his conversation like you weren't sitting there with your legs open for him.

You would consider yourself a level-headed person, knowing that sometimes things just happen and you were okay with it most of the time but tonight... Your brattiness really decided to make an appearance. You bite your lip, placing your hand on Spencer's chest, looking up at him to see a reaction. He had none, completely immersed in the phone call to notice your dirty intentions. You slowly dragged your hand down his chest, watching his eyes to see if they even had a glimpse of a reaction. He had none until you made it to his lower stomach, his eyes on yours as he raised a brow.

"Well we found out he was a necrophiliac, that's why he killed before the initial penetration." He said into the phone, explaining something about the case that you didn't even want to know about.

If someone had told you that you would be trying to get in a quickie while your boyfriend talked about necrophilia, you would have laughed in their face. But you prevailed and you continued your hands' path to the part you really wanted. Spencer took the hand that was placed on your waist, placing it on your hand to stop you. This bratty side of you was something Spencer had never seen, it wasn't a complete turn-off to him... frustrating? A bit, but not the bad kind of frustration. You batted your eyes up at Spencer, taking his hand in yours before bringing it up under your shirt. His hand shook as you placed it on your bare chest, but Spencer continued his conversation with Hotch like nothing was happening.

You took your other hand, placing it on his cock and pumping it a few times. Spencer's eyes flutter shut, leaning his head against the headboard as he listens to Hotch speak. Spencer had no idea why he couldn't resist you right now, maybe this entire situation frustrated him as much as it did you. Maybe he didn't want to be bothered by the BAU while home with you. You lined Spencer's cock to your entrance, basking in his reaction and how he couldn't push down the ache he felt in his cock. You were swift with it, sitting all the way down on his cock in just one thrust. Spencer groaned once again, his eyes widened as he forgot who was on the other side of the phone. He apologized on the phone, telling Hotch he needed to mute himself for a split second again.

"Y/n..." He moaned softly, holding your hip to keep you in place. As much as you looked pretty right now, he needed to finish this call up without distraction. "I really need to talk to Hotch, okay? he needs me.." He was interrupted by a moan escaping his throat as you thrust harshly onto him, your bratty behavior making him throb inside you already.

"Then talk to Hotch..." You said simply as if you weren't riding his cock at the moment. You smirked, looking him dead in the eye while you cock warmed him. "Just pretend I'm not here... you can do that right?"

Spencer sighed softly, shifting himself as he slowly gave into you but pieces of him knew he was needed on the job. You weren't going to let up, you both needed this more than Spencer even knew. The other night when Spencer was in an unknown city, you had called him before he went to bed like you normally do. You could hear the stress in his voice, the same stress that coated his words this entire night. The only thing that could chip away at that stress was you sending him a titty pic and verbally fucking him to sleep, explaining to him exactly what you would do if you were there. He needed this and you would happily give it to him, however, if he said no you would back off obviously... but you weren't hearing him wanting you to stop.

"I can finish this call later." He said, taking his hand from your shirt and putting it back down on your hip before going to dive back into the call. "I'll just tell him I need a moment and hang up okay." He looked up at you for your approval.

"No!" You spit out, the idea of fucking Spencer while talking to his boss was slightly very arousing but also he made his bed... might as well lay in it. Spencer looked at you with his brows furrowed, wondering why suddenly you were so upset. "You decided to answer him, so you finish your fucking call... I swear if you hang up I'll stop, you'll be going to bed with a hard cock..."

Spencer was massively turned on by the tone of your voice, the bratty behavior is something he could get used to. You were just really tired, mentally and physically. The only way to get your boyfriend to notice you was to practically scream for it, it exhausted you how much you had to scream. Spencer thought for a moment, was this really something he wanted to get fired over? Fuck yes... he brought the phone back to his ear, continuing his conversation with Hotch. You smiled, leaning down to peck his cheek softly. His own smile is brought to his face by your actions.

You once again laid your hands on Spencer's chest, helping yourself roll your hips onto Spencer. You didn't know how this would go simply because Spencer was extremely vocal and had a hard time covering it up. However, Spencer didn't actually want to get fired so he kept quiet, putting a hand on his mouth when not speaking or biting his lip so hard it bled. You could have gone slow, teasing him like he did you every chance he got but the coil in your stomach hurt so bad you needed this release. Your hips sped up once more, going as fast as you could which was not as fast as you would have thought. It was a steady pace, allowing Spencer's cock to hit the spongy area once more.

"We found his car, a blue Toyota Camry..." He spoke, his mind not even comprehending what he was saying due to how hard you were slamming yourself onto him. Clearly, he had got a detail wrong due to the fact he quickly apologized to Hotch immediately after saying it. "I mean a gray Toyota Corolla... sorry."

You laughed softly at his mistake, knowing only your pussy could have the genius with an eidetic memory to forget something. You continued your thrust, leaning down to bury your face into his neck, knowing that you were just as loud as Spencer and if you didn't then Hotch would definitely hear. Spencer dug his nails into your hip, a way to stop himself from crying out loud as he listened to Hotch, his soft moans still escaping his lips. It was clear that Hotch had said something about his behavior, his soft noises on the other side of the phone. Spencer racked his brain for an excuse, landing on something so stupid but believable.

"yeah, I'm just jet-lagged and I think I ate something bad on the plane..." He lied, moaning in the middle of his sentence. His voice became more high-pitched, hinting that he was going to cum any minute. "I'm okay..." he finished.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling it slightly as you continued to ride him. Your hips burned, your vision blurry and your legs shaking, you didn't know if you would stop due to bursting at the seams or pure exhaustion. You were now trying to quietly get the both of you off, hoping that Hotch would believe Spencer's very weak excuse. You bit and sucked on his neck, leaving more love bites there, knowing that Hotch might actually put the pieces together tomorrow when Spencer showed up looking as though he spent a night with a vampire.

"Gonna cum..." You whispered into his ear, you tightened around him. The coil in your stomach burning with the ache to come undone and this time Spencer's phone wasn't going to stop it.

Spencer went quiet, knowing that if he said more than 3 words at a time he wouldn't be able to stop the curses and moans that escaped within himself. Your thrusts became sloppy, your body exhausted as you tried to get that coil within you to snap... and it finally did. You moaned loudly into Spencer's neck, his hand coming to meet your head to stuff your face further into his skin to silence you. Your walls contracted around spencers cock, sending shocks through your sweaty body as you fucked yourself through your orgasm and slowly inched Spencer to his own.

Spencer pulled the phone away from his ear, coming undone only seconds after you. You could feel his hot cum drench your walls, his moans not being able to be silenced any longer. Hotch could definitely hear what was going on, his clear confusion being heard from his phone as he asked if Spencer was okay. Spencer forgot where he was for a minute, he forgot that he was on an important phone call or that he was a genius FBI agent with a duty to protect but instead, he is fooling around with his girlfriend instead of listening to his boss. He kissed your neck softly, the words "thank you" slipping from his tongue and echoing through your brain. You just sent him a smile and brought his lips to yours, hands on his cheeks as you slipped your tongue into his mouth.

"Spencer?" Hotch asked, his voice now filling the stuffy room. Spencer then remembered what he was doing moments before his orgasm, picking up his phone and putting it to his ear.

"Hey sorry hotch!" Spencer said, embarrassment filling his body. You chuckled softly, reaching your hand down to slip Spencer out of you. "yeah no, I'm fine! Like I said, I ate some bad food... I've been throwing up all night... Do you mind if I call you back later?" He asked, this made your ears perk up.

You hoped this meant you two could go a few uninterrupted rounds before falling asleep. You watched Spencer's lips as he spoke to Hotch, saying his goodbyes and apologizing for his sudden sickness. You couldn't help yourself but peck his lips with yours, he talked to Hotch through your kisses until eventually he pulled the phone away and set it on his nightstand. You pecked his lips once more but this time Spencer held your lips on his, continuing your passionate kiss from earlier.

"Are you trying to get me fired?" He chuckled out through kisses, his lips trailing down to your neck like you did to him only minutes ago.

You sat on that question for a minute, knowing that he loved his job but maybe his being fired wasn't the worst idea. No, you were just being selfish, you only wanted him home so you could have him whenever you wanted. You giggled, his lips attaching to your neck as you let his words sink in.

"No..." You finally said, pulling at his hair once more. "i just want you to fuck me without being interrupted... that so much to ask?"

Spencer rubbed your thighs softly, bringing his hands up to the hem of your shirt and yanking it off. Your breast sprang free and he didn't hesitate to start kissing and sucking on them. You could feel yourself wanting to cum again just by his lips attached to your sensitive nipples. You two were definitely going to go multiple rounds tonight, something about being caught by Hotch made Spencer go crazy... almost like he was doing something very illegal. You moaned softly into the air, grinding your hips onto Spencer once more as his mouth worked magic on your chest. Just when you were brought to the stars once more...

The piercing scream of his phone filled the room once more, halting both of your movements. You both looked at each other, then to the phone as Spencer looked to see who it was. Your anger came over you again, but this time it was going to end in a mind-blowing orgasm... no it would end with Spencer packing his shit and spending the night at the office. Spencer plopped his phone back down, going back to leaving kisses on your chest.

"They can wait..."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #doctor spencer reid #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #BAU

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chuuyasheaven · 7 months

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RAAAAAAAAH idk if this counts as an ask but this specific scenario has been marinating in my mind for WEEKS and i think you might enjoy it :3c

to put it shortly ive been thinking of hot-headed reader who has trouble containing their temper (im not projecting whar do you mean) x chuuya (established relationship) that goes from angst to smut…. teehee

basically chuuya and reader begin arguing bc i hc that EVEN THOUGH CHUUYA IS EXTREMELY LOYAL AND DOTING TO THE ONES HE CARES ABOUT…. his temper often gets the best of him. Recently, chuuya had been very busy, and reader knew that, and continuously made an effort to help him in whatever ways they could, be it making dinner/lunch for him, offering to help with paperwork, etc. BUT thing is.. chuuya isn't really noticing this and treats them like a nuisance. He hasn't said anything outright insulting or upsetting, but he treats reader so differently, like he's silently blaming reader for his own temper and mood. He doesn't even call them by their nickname/petname anymore, everything feels so distant now.

So in an attempt to yk, NOT give up on their relationship, reader decides to confront chuuya about this in a calm manner, but he blindly lashes out and reader is NOT having ANY of it… cue a petty back and forth between him and reader, and reader gets out of the house to cool off and meanwhile chuuya finally comes to his senses. He tries to reason with reader when they come back, but they end up doing exactly what chuuya did to them, dismissing him and not accepting any form of half-assed apology. and so,,,,,, chuuya tries to make it up to reader,,,, if ikwym :3c

cue chuuya eating out reader like his life depends on it /jjj ((THIS IS SO LONG LMAO IM LITERALLY SOSORRY))

"You're not getting tired of me, are you?" // C. Nakahara

Summary. Recently, Chuuya has been kinda distant lately, mostly due to his work. This also resulted into you mostly overthinking— what if he isn't at the office all the time just like says? With this thought at the back of your mind, you tried to make an effort to be nice and caring as possible, only for Chuuya to decline the food you make him, denying any help you offer and barely spending time, which made the thoughts even more scary. When you can't take it anymore, you snap, at first he didn't get what your problem was until he thought about your earlier attempts. Now driven with guilt, Chuuya wants to assure you're the most important thing to him and makes up for his actions in the process.

Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, the summary pretty much already tells the story, angst to smut to fluff maybe, miscommunication, Reader prolly has anxiety, swearing, ooc! Chuuya, suspicions of cheating, Chuuya didn't notice at first but it's okay he'll make it up by licking pussy ^_^, might be cringe, short too idk, Reader might be KINDAAA based off me, petnames (baby, doll, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex (afab! receiving), praising, overstimulation? , p in v, who knows maybe i fucked up the ask and wrote smth else, for the first time ever porn WITH plot, might have a rushed end, might contain grammar errors, etc.

"Hey, Chuuya, wanna eat? I made your favorite!", you said with a nervous tone painted in your voice, which Chuuya didn't really notice. "No, baby, I can't. Sorry, maybe next time?", he answered without even exchanging looks with you, just doing his paperwork as if it was more important to him. It's been like this for several days already and you did nothing but trying to help Chuuya to make things easier, but he didn't budge. You slowly started to get annoyed and just walked away to eat by yourself, silently.

With all kind of negative thoughts which caused you to overthink. These "thoughts" didn't leave you alone since he's become more distant. What if he's losing interest? What if he's not always late in the office? Am I annoying him and a burden? After you finished eating, you just put his plate into the fridge and sat alone in your living room. Some while later, Chuuya came to see you for a few minutes before returning to work. He tired hugging you but you rejected it. Confused, he looks at you before asking. "What's wrong, doll?", did he seriously just ask you that? After pushing away for the— what? The millionth time for his work? At this innocent question you snapped, well, not really but you were beyond pissed.

When Chuuya told you that he was probably busy for the next days, you understood, at first. Knowing Chuuya, he could make some time for you in between, right? He was your really loyal, sweet and loving boyfriend, caring was he too, of course Chuuya should be able to make atleast a little time. And to his credit, he did, at first. He took breaks in which he spent time with you, cooking your food with you, and also other activities you guys normally do. But with time, Chuuya got more and more work and spent less and less time with you. You also understood at first, and trying to be a good girlfriend, you tried to take some work off his back by doing some paperwork with him, only to deny you. Don't get Chuuya wrong, he appreciated it, but he'd rather do it himself. You understood, leaving him be, but then he started to work late, staying behind in the office. That's when you started to overthink a little. You really didn't want to let you thoughts get to you, Chuuya is loyal and so loving he would never, right? Why was he even staying so late in the first place? Was it because you constantly asked him to help to the point he wanted to work in the office at work? These thoughts would slowly consume you later on, and instead of speaking with Chuuya about it, you kept it to yourself, you didn't want to annoy him anyways. It's been 3 days later and he didn't even say a single word to you, just work, work, work. Were you even Chuuya's top priority at this point? You just let him distance himself, in hope of him noticing your presence. All this did was make the situation worse, to the point where you cried yourself to sleep at night feeling unwanted. Did Chuuya finally notice? No, his head is still drowned in paperwork. "Chuuya, do you have time right now?" — "No. Go do something else, doll, I still have work left." His tone had some harshness to it, a hint of annoyance too. But maybe it was because of the stress because of work. "I could help him maybe.", you told yourself, you don't want him to overwork himself, has he even eaten today? "Well, maybe I could help with the paper—" — "You can't, so please go. I still have a lot left." — "But I could—" — "Just go, I'm busy. I can't really talk with you 'cause you're gonna distract me." What a reason, but you can't let him push you away now, can you? "Chuuya, please, I just wanna help you—" — "Just leave me the hell alone and do something else. Look, I love you for trying, I don't need your help the only this you're doing right now is distracting me." "If you say so." Was all you said before leaving his home office without saying another word.

That was the last time you talked to him during these days, but today, was the day you finally snapped at him for pushing you away all these days. And for what did he push you away? For trying to be nice and take some shit off his back? "What's wrong?! What's wrong is that you pushed me away for— what? A week and a half?!", you explained with anger behind your voice, which Chuuya wasn't familiar with. "Doll, I didn't push you away—", before he could speak you went on. "Stop with the bullshit. Whenever I tried helping with anything you always denied me! I can't do this anymore.", you said with a crack in your voice, now Chuuya slowly got pissed too, was it his fault for having an asshole of a boss?

"Do you think I want to do this? Who in the hell would participate in such work as a fucking joke?!", he said rather louder than you. "Your damn work seems to be more important that me, when was the last time you looked me in my face?", you stood up from the couch. "You wouldn't even know what to do!", "I could've if you took some fucking time to explain!", you shouted back, this is where Chuuya might have lost his temper. "Why the hell should I? You won't even understand when I tell you to leave! I'm sorry if the world doesn't fucking revolve around you, some people have other priorities?!", his voice got angrier and louder.

"Appearently I'm not your first priority, which is what I'm supposed to be?! I just wanted to spend time with you, but if I'm so fucking 'distracting' then I'll leave!", "Oh, so now you can take a damn hint?", he called after you tried to walk away. "What?", you stopped and turned around to face him. "Fuck you, then. I'm done, go do your work which is more important to me! All I was doing was to try—", "I don't give a fuck if you were "trying" shit! Just fucking don't because it won't matter anyway all you're being is annoying and desperate.", Chuuya shouted at you.

"So I'm annoying you now?", you said, your voice going quieter. "Yeah, with the way you were constantly up in my shit. You're not the most important thing right now, just stop trying to stress me more than you already are.", when he said that, you were facing the floor, fighting back the angry tears that were building up. "Alright, go do your work. I'll leave you to it.", you muttered, walking towards your door to take a walk. Chuuya just tsk'ed and went back to his room. It was quiet in the apartment, Chuuya was working on some papers left when he thought about your earlier argument. Wondering why you started it, he thought about what you said and slowly realized that what you said was true. He has gotten more distant, he was a little rude to you about leaving him alone and barely paid you and your attempts to help attention.

Knowing he probably fucked up in those past days, hurting your feelings and calling you 'annoying and desperate' probably caused the biggest guilt he ever experienced. Chuuya tried calling you but you hung up instantly. Okay, reasonable. The second time he called you took you're time to pick up. "Hey, baby—", "What do you want?", you asked coldly. "I thought you wanted to be left alone.", Chuuya could hear the pain in your voice. "Look, darling, you know I didn't mean what I said. It was the stress—", you really didn't wanna hear him right now, especially his excuses. "Sorry, Chuuya but I don't really wanna talk right now, since I'm annoying you anyways, talk to you later.", before getting another word out, you hung up. Chuuya just took deep sigh and thought of ways to apologize and make it up to you.

You first left at 6pm but returned at 8pm, you were a little tired after walking a lot so you looked forward to lay in your shared bed, alone again probably. You changed into Chuuya's shirt just like you have been these last several days for some missing closure, not forgetting your shorts before you sat on the bed to be on your phone. Not even five minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing Chuuya with a guilt driven face. "What?, you asked him once again. "Can we talk, please?", you just stared at him before nodding. He sat down on the bed, patting the space next to him, you moved to the edge of the bed to sit down next to him.

"I'm sorry,", Chuuya started. "I'm sorry for neglecting you these past days, didn't mean to make you feel like a burden.", "So you finally got the hint?", you ask sarcastically. "Baby, I mean it. I shouldn't have priotized my work over you and pushed you away during it. I never wanted to feel unimportant.", he held your hand now, gently caressing it. "The stress made me act this way probably and i shouldn't have lashed out at you. You forgive me?", your gaze was still as cold. Chuuya just pulled you close to him, finally after a week, this made you realize that you missed him more than you thought.

Chuuya stroked your back, kissing your forehead first, then your cheeks, and lastly, your lips— those lips he hasn't kissed for something which felt like an eternity. He just wanted to make it up to you one way or another. "Lay down, dollface, wanna make you feel good.", Chuuya said to you while he was holding your chin. "I haven't fully forgiven you yet, y'know that, right?", looking away while you said this, Chuuya just had to chuckle. "You're gonna when I'm done with you, trust me.", you rolled your eyes and just laid back like he wanted. Chuuya moved himself between your legs, removing the shorts and panties blocking his path and letting your legs hang over his shoulders.

"No need to tense up, pretty, jus' relax,", he whispered, pressing kisses to your thighs, never breaking eye contact. Those kisses started to get closer and closer to your cunt, which was waiting for his tongue. Once his mouth got to it's destination, Chuuya started his work. He ate you out like his life depended on it, but he made sure he won't make a big mess. You where quietly moaning, trying to not be heard by him. "Why so quiet, sweetheart?", he lightly teased, you just looked away again. "C'mon, look at me. I wanna make you feel good, remember that?", you looked back at him, your cheeks were slightly flushed and lust was filled in your eyes. Chuuya dived back in and kept his eye contact with you, looking at you while you try to bite down your moans. This only made him suck on your clit, which also broke your silence.

It didn't take long for you to finish with Chuuya looking at you while pleasuring you. As you came on his tongue, still breathing unsteady, Chuuya got up between your legs. "You're so perfect like this, darlin'.", he whispered before kissing you, you could loosely taste yourself on his tongue. While he was kissing you, he freed his cock out of his pants. Chuuya stopped kissing you for a second to insert his dick inside you. He stroked your folds with his tip to catch some slick and entered almost easily, as if your cunt was sucking him in. "Fuck, I forgot how good you felt around me. Forgive me for neglecting this perfect— oh, fuck!", he cut himself off by starting to thrust.

If you weren't loud earlier, you definitely were now. Chuuya was kissing you while being inside you, thrusting while his lips were on yours, whispering "I love you"s and apologies to you. "You're so good for me, fuck— I love you so much.", his thrusts got sloppier, meaning he was close. Your arms were thrown around his neck as you threw your head back, you could feel your upcoming orgasm. "Chuuya— shit, 'm so close, please don't stop!", "Wasn't planning on it, you feel way too good for that, baby.", as your cunt clenched down around him, he surprisingly moaned, instantly cumming inside you. He thrusted once more and that's when you came undone a second time.

"So. . did you change your mind, doll?"

@moth-of-mythos // @pretendtobesick04 // @alastors-deerest // @shi-nakano // @samutoru // @munnaitorei // @sjsnsidream // @shuwyyx // @skelitea // @xaviawinter // @cvidy // @cherrytreegrove // @skk-lover // @pe4rl-diver // @walking-simp

Sorry if ur tag didn't work 😕 also sorry if I fucked the storyline up

#chuuya'sheaven ♡#chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara smut #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #chuuya angst

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