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watermelonsugacry · 4 months

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harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers.

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him.

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his.

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.”

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on.

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute.

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands.

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter.

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom.

“Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation.

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top.

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

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violetrainbow412-blog · 9 months

Text

Birthday wishes [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it.

second part here!

contents: childhood best friends, idiots who-don't-know-they're-in-love, surprise parties, pure fluff honestly

If you like my work leave a comment or reblog, that would make me very happy!

The first thing Spencer did when he got home was get rid of his converse and even though it had been a relatively calm day he was exhausted, so he went straight to the bedroom to throw himself on the bed. He lay back for a while, just enjoying the calm, and then he fumbled for the cell phone in his briefcase. He hit the call button on the contact he'd wanted to talk to all day and then he waited patiently.

“L/N family residence, who do you want me to contact you with?”

"Hello, is Miss Y/N by any chance?"

"Who's looking for her?" you continued and a smile escaped from his lips. It was usual for you to respond in a silly way when he called you, so he was used to it by now.

"Her best friend, Dr. Spencer Reid"

“Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, I don't think that sounds familiar…” you teased, hearing him snort from the other end of the line “Ah! Wait, I remember you."

“After knowing each other for like 20 years, I hope so” he laughed, and then you too.

Sure enough, the man and you were friends from a very early age. You were his neighbor when he lived in Las Vegas and your parents had always been quite nice to the family, knowing the delicate situation they faced, so it wasn’t difficult for you to become friends. You were the first friend he ever had, a real one, so there was a special fondness between you, even when he had gone off to college at such a young age and distance had subsequently separated the two of you.

You always called each other and every time he visited his mother it was a law that you also received a visit, even if the time was only enough for you to greet each other with a hug. You also traveled to DC a few times because of your work and you even had your own key to his apartment, so if he was busy with a case, you could stay there instead of paying for a hotel. Your relationship was like that of a brother and sister, although as this familiarity grew, it was slightly intervened by loving feelings that you didn’t want to face yet but were definitely there.

You knew a lot about his life from those long-distance calls that happened at least once a week, and right now he was excited about something in particular. He was exactly one week away from his thirty-year birthday, and he hoped that, like every year, you would fly from Las Vegas to see him. It was a tradition, whether it was thunder or lightning, you two hadn't missed a single birthday from the other since he had to move out of state. So Spencer was hoping that this call was for you guys to plan what you were going to do; regularly your birthdays were in restaurants or nice places and his were at home, with food delivery and classic movies, or when you felt very adventurous you could go to a museum or just walk through the streets.

"How are you, Reid? How is everything?"

"Not so good, but not so bad either" he laughed "And you?"

"Everything has been terrible, it's like a curse is on my head, I swear" you complained. Spencer got up from his comfortable position to sit on the bed and although he knew that most of the time you said things like that you were just exaggerating, this time he had a bad feeling.

"Why?”

You started to tell him about the financial problems you were going through and he, with his mind still focused on your visit, thought about offering to pay for your flight to DC, but his spirits fell completely when you told him that you were being put under too much pressure at work.

“We're going to have a meeting next Friday with HR to discuss responsibilities and so on, but honestly I don't think things will get better. Right now I'm working from home because there are pending issues that have to be resolved as soon as possible and I barely have time to think during the day, you seriously can't imagine how busy I've been.”

When you finished the story, he remained silent, feeling his chest squeezed by the direction that things were now taking. With that scenario, your visit was too complicated and he was debating internally about whether he should tell you something about it or not. As he had thought before, the money to have you with him wasn’t a problem, but dealing with the issue of your shortened times was totally different. He didn't want to make you feel guilty for not being able to go, let alone disrupt activities that he knew were important to you, like that meeting you just mentioned. So what should he do? He wanted you to be there, but he wasn't going to make you.

“Crash? You still there?" you asked. Only you and his mother called him that, since his nickname had arisen when he was just a child due to his clumsiness, a trait that, in your opinion, he still retained. It wasn't offensive coming from you, even he was glad to know that this was something that belonged to the two women he loved the most.

"Yes, I'm here. I just was thinking"

"You always do, I don't think there's a single second when that mind of yours rests," you said amused "Anyway, what's new?"

Spencer hoped that you would at least apologize to him for your future absence or ask him what he intended to do today. But you seemed not even aware of it.

“Nothing, really. Today we're done with a case and if I'm lucky I'll be able to rest this weekend” he murmured. Sometimes he would tell you things about the cases, omitting bloody and dangerous details, so he leaned back and started recounting all the events into the speaker of his phone.

You two continued to talk for almost an hour, but the topic of the birthday didn't come up once and Spencer didn't try to bring it up. After all, there were still a few days to go and in the worst case, you could at least call him that day to congratulate him, right?

But as the days went by, the anxiety ate him more and he even called you a few days after that, but he only received a response from your mailbox and after a few minutes a short text message where you explained that you were a little busy with work, but that you would call him as soon as you could. The fact that during those days he found out that the entire team already had something to do on Friday didn’t help his mood too much.

Hotch and JJ discussed a sleepover for Henry and Jack after work, he overheard Garcia and Morgan agreeing to visit a new bar for the night, Rossi said he was going to visit one of his ex-wives and when he thought he could still invite Emily to hang out, she went over to talk to him about the therapist appointment that she clearly didn't want to go to, but had to. There was no remedy, everyone had plans for his birthday and he didn’t want to interfere with them. Resignation was the only thing the doctor had left during the remaining days, and when he least expected it, the entire week had already passed.

He used to wake up to your off-key version of the birthday song and a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, then you'd make breakfast and you'd eat it together; so not having any of that when he got out of bed, he felt his heart break a little. This year he thought he would get your call first thing in the morning, but when he checked his phone he didn't even find a message announcing that there was a case. He didn't want to go to the office to do paperwork on his birthday, but the thought of at least getting a hug from his coworkers cheered him up slightly.

He put on his favorite shirt, a new pair of pants, and the converse that you had given him and he only wore on special occasions, before leaving the apartment. For some reason Spencer enjoyed taking the subway, perhaps more than anyone he knew, and this time he stopped at a coffee shop that was just before arriving to buy something to drink, since he didn't feel like eating anything.

He undertook the entire trip lost in his thoughts and when he least expected it, he was already at the headquarters. He checked his phone, again, but he still didn't get any notifications or missed calls. Many times you had insisted that he get a more modern model and he had refused, but now he was wondering if the advances in technology would have allowed him to communicate with you through a video call. It would be embarrassing to ask Garcia for a favor, so he concluded that he would just wait, after all if he hadn't communicated it must have been for something important.

Upon entering, he greeted everyone with a huge smile and he felt somewhat disconcerted when the others greeted him normally, without hugs or cake on the table. He sat down at his desk to start going through the documents he already had and the others continued on their own business. It was common for Emily or Morgan to come up to him for a chat, but on this particular day it was as if they were avoiding him. Even Penelope, who he swore would congratulate him, seemed to have completely forgotten when he came to her place with the excuse of needing a piece of information from the previous case. When Hotch called him to his office, the man's eyes lit up, believing that his boss had remembered the celebration of the date.

"Can you do me a favor?" he had asked, without taking his eyes off whatever he was writing "Donovan needs to sort some files and honestly he has no idea how to do it and I'm too busy to explain, could you do it?"

Donovan was in charge of the physical file inside the building and it was not usual for him to request this kind of support, but Reid still said yes, and the rest of the day passed with him locked in a cellar full of filing cabinets. He had made sure to take his phone with him and every time he turned it on to check it and he realized that there was no sign of you his disappointment increased. He came to wonder if his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him and, for some incredible reason, he had gotten the day wrong and it wasn't really October 12; but when he saw the calendar, he verified that this wasn’t possible.

“Are you out of punishment yet?” Emily taunted, when after many hours she saw him again by the bullpen. At another time Spencer would have laughed, but right now his mood wasn't quite right for it and he just looked at her, more hostile than he intended. “Hotch left you some documents on your desk, he asked if you could review them before you go. It's urgent,” she informed him.

It was obvious that this would take time and he felt like crying at the thought of having to stay longer than the regular time. It was almost an hour after everyone else had gone home that he finished, feeling somewhat annoyed to find out that even Aaron had already left.

He doubted whether to go home or go to dinner somewhere, because he knew that if he returned to the apartment he would sink into sadness. His birthdays didn't mean anything special on their own, what he liked was to feel loved, to enjoy the company, but above all to see you.

While he was leaving the building, and as if you were reading his mind, a call vibrated on his cell phone. Seeing that it was you, Spencer didn't take more than two seconds to answer, thinking that maybe after the whole day he could improve.

"You won't believe what happened to me!" you said, without even greeting him. It wasn't the kind of sentence he was expecting, but he still decided to listen.

"What happened?"

“There is a boy, at my work, his name is Brandon. Well, Brandon and I have talked a few times now and he seems like a nice person, plus he's pretty handsome and he finally asked me out on a date with him, can you believe it?" you murmured excitedly, and a lump formed in Spencer's throat "We're going out today, the meeting was canceled and we decided to take advantage of the time, but I can't decide whether to wear the red dress or the black and gold outfit that my mom gave me and I need the help of an expert. You have seen both, which one do you think suits me better?

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing the situation she was going through, and it wasn't until you said his name that he reacted.

"I like your red dress," he murmured, with a sad smile that you clearly couldn't see. He couldn't believe you were going out with a man you'd never mentioned and it affected him more than he expected you to be asking for advice because a pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

You were telling him that you were going to have a date on his birthday.

“I thought the same! I guess that will be the best option."

"I guess…"

"Where are you now? At home?" you kindly asked. Your tone almost made him angry.

“I just got off work. I'm on my way to take the subway"

"Oh, excellent. Today there were no cases?"

"Not fortunately. I'm glad to know that the criminals at least respected my birthday."

With that said, there was a deathly silence between you, to the point where he wondered if you were still on the other end of the line or if you understood what he was implying.

“Spencer, my God, I…”

"It's okay if you forgot," he said, trying to play the matter down, but the tears that were beginning to accumulate in his eyes indicated otherwise. The guilty tone with which you had spoken was more than enough to know that, probably, if he hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have done it either "Nobody remembered it"

"I'm so sorry" you practically sobbed "Between all the work and stuff I... I don't even know why I forgot, forgive me”

"It’s okay" he replied. But it wasn't okay.

“Can I do something to fix it? Whatever, you just… ask me what you want and I'll do it. I swear," you mumbled, sounding desperate.

He tried to convince you that there was no problem with it and you continued to pour out apologies, which Spencer knew were worthless now but he wasn't selfish enough to ignore them. He wanted to scream, cry, or do anything to get that weight off his chest and even though he loved the sound of your voice right now it was the last thing he needed.

“Anyway, I'm about to enter the subway and uh, I have almost no signal there. I'll call you later, okay?" the question didn’t wait for an answer, because he immediately added: "Good luck on your date, bye"

If he had considered going out to celebrate, he knew that now what he urgently needed was to go home or he would break down in tears in the middle of the street. The ride on the subway lasted longer than he would have liked, as he longed to go to sleep and find out if it would allow him to forget a bit about the shitty day he had just had. When he was finally in front of the door with the number 23 in gold letters, he struggled enormously to put the key into the lock, because the tears in his eyes were already clouding his vision, and he believed that the heaviness on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to advance.

The key turned one turn, then another, and then Spencer was allowed inside the house.

One week before…

The team was meeting in the conference room at the request of Penelope, who had asked everyone to stay after the scheduled time, waiting to receive the news of what they thought would surely be a new case.

"And Reid?" Morgan asked, noticing the empty chair next to him, because they had seen him leave and that was reason enough to have questions about his absence.

"I'm glad you asked because this meeting is related to him," Garcia replied. With the push of a button, a face appeared on the main screen and almost everyone present was surprised to see who it was "She is Y/N Y/L/N, do you remember her?"

"You were at Prentiss's funeral, right?"

"That's right" you replied with a smile, looking directly at the aforementioned "I still have a little trouble understanding, uh... that whole thing, to be honest" you joked.

"Y/N asked us for this space to discuss something related to Spencer's birthday, which will be next Friday" explained Hotch, who was the other member who was already aware of the matter "The microphone is all yours"

"Okay, so where do I start? It's great to see all of you and I hope you're doing well. Every year I visit Spencer on his birthday and we spend the day together, but since this year is his 30th birthday I wanted to do something special and I want to know if you would be willing to help me”

"Tell us your plan, precious"

“I don't intend to take up a lot of your time, it's simple. I will call him today to insinuate that this year I can’t go and all I want you to do is pretend that day that you don’t remember that it’s his birthday”

"Wait, why do you want us to ignore it?" JJ muttered with a frown.

"I want to throw him a surprise party in his apartment" you explained with a smile and then the request you were making to them didn't sound so farfetched "You can tell him you have plans that day and if he mentions something you just say you can't go. I bought my flight for that day and I will be in the city starting in the morning, so I can prepare everything”

"And how will we do if he invites us somewhere?"

Morgan suggested using a decoy for him and pretending they were taking him somewhere else, but you balked at the idea.

“I have all my hopes that he doesn’t mention anything. If so, we'll manage somehow. And I know that asking for that is difficult because we are all his friends, but if necessary, avoid him completely that day. We need him to know under no circumstances that we have a surprise for him."

“He is very smart and he will figure it out. If we make him believe that we forgot he will concentrate on that” you argued. Although the others didn't want to admit it, they knew that you had a point there "I just hope you don't have some unforeseen case or something like that, because I would hate for that lie to be for nothing"

You discussed some more until you concluded that your plan was the most viable. The girls would help you with ideas for decorations and David even offered to buy all the drinks. Although the others weren’t surprised by his generosity, you were slightly upset, but this didn’t prevent you from accepting the offer and thanking him in advance.

“It really means a lot to me that you guys help me, thanks” you murmured happily, once everything was settled, and then your phone started ringing in the background “It's Spencer! I have to answer him. If something happens, you guys will tell me, right?"

"Take it for granted" smiled Garcia, who was the one who had lived with you the most, but everyone supported her from the bottom.

"Fine, thanks everyone, thanks Agent Hotch, I'll see you later!" you said goodbye, hanging up the video call and simultaneously answering the phone.

Everyone got up from the conference room and Rossi was the first to speak, a smile on his face.

"Call me crazy..." he started to say "but something tells me that girl and Spencer are going to end up together"

"The pretty boy loves her, but he still doesn't notice it," Morgan laughed, as they all walked out. "Whenever we go to Vegas, his eyes shine when he sees her."

“And she's setting this up for him! It's so sweet" Penelope sighed, who had already taken Derek's arm "But the part about being mean to Spencer doesn't convince me much… he's going to be so sad"

"Look at it this way, babygirl: if he's sad he'll be happier than usual with the surprise."

"Nobody's going to screw it up," Emily threatened them, pointing her index finger at them, and the rest of the team promised they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, your first part of the plan was in the works, with the late-night call he had made to you. You had to admit that lying to your best friend was something you hated, but with any luck it would all be worth it when you could hug him and give him that gift that you had carefully kept on one of the shelves, that you hoped could be enough for such an important event like the first thirty years of life.

What happened during the week is history, which was consolidated at the moment he turned the handle without even imagining what awaited him.

When Spencer walked through the door the first thing he did was turn on the light and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he heard the screams coming from inside. There were purple balloons scattered all over the floor, a congratulations banner, a table full of presents, and everyone was there.

The shock was such that he couldn't even manage to say a word and some of the tears that he had been holding back were finally able to come out, but this time for different reasons.

They hadn’t forgotten.

"How…? What are you doing here?"

“We came to celebrate your birthday, genius,” Morgan laughed, as he reached over to hug his friend and ruffled his hair brotherly.

A wave of hugs preceded that and even he received a couple of kisses on each cheek from Rossi, which finally made him laugh. He seemed like a child, completely fascinated with everything around him and still processing the situation.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help wondering how his friends had been able to enter the apartment, since none of them had a copy of the key and the landlady was too suspicious to have let them in just like that, but he felt happy for the direction the day had taken.

“First of all, we have another surprise for you,” said JJ, obviously excited. The rest shared complicit glances and García began to record with his cell phone, which made him a little nervous "But you have to close your eyes."

Spencer looked at everyone else as if waiting for a confirmation of that, and seeing a couple of nods he did what his friend was asking. Just to make sure Jennifer covered his eyelids with her hands and in this way she turned him around, while he wondered what this surprise could be about.

"Are you ready?" she asked and the man answered yes with a hum. There was silence for a second, as if they were checking something, and then she withdrew her hand. "Open them."

Many possibilities went through the man's mind for whatever he would see at that moment, but when he did, he felt his heart stop for a moment. There you were, looking at him with a sweet smile and wearing that red dress.

The rest of those present were waiting for who would make the first move, because the two of you had froze looking at each other, and García was only pointing the camera carefully as you had requested.

"Surprise?" you said shyly, noticing that Spencer hadn't said anything.

You were afraid that after the call you had he was upset with you in some way, but a second after he recovered from the shock he was already on top of you, holding you by the waist to spin you through the air while you laughed heartily.

"You came," he said, his voice cracking, but completely brimming with happiness.

"Of course I would, Spencer, do you think I'd miss your birthday?"

"But you... your work"

"All a vile lie"

"And that boy?"

“There was never such a thing,” you laughed, freeing yourself from the weight of guilt “You're my only boy,” you added affectionately, palms planted squarely on your friend's cheeks. He still had you in his arms and was grinning from ear to ear at your answers "I'm so sorry I told you all that, I just didn't want you to suspect anything, can you forgive me?"

"No!" he practically squealed and you widened your eyes in amazement “Today was the most terrible day because I thought you didn't care about me anymore, you made me suffer! All of you!" your friend complained, looking away from you briefly to look at those present.

"In our defense, she asked us to," Emily laughed, holding up both hands in surrender.

"You're so mean," he murmured, turning his attention back to you. "But I love you so much.”

A group sigh filled the room as he engulfed you in a hug and from your position you could see the teasing or tender smiles they all had. It wasn't very common to see the youngest of the team in that position, much less saying those things, plus we had to add the collective opinion that you were madly in love.

"Seriously, forgive me"

"It’s okay…" he whispered close to your ear "You're here, that's what matters"

His body felt so soft and safe that you didn't want to stop hugging him, but you knew that if you took too long it would create an uncomfortable environment for the rest, so you had no choice but to gently pull him away from you. The woman asked your friend, just to annoy him, if he liked his surprise and although he didn't say anything, the giant smile and flushed cheeks were enough of an answer.

"Come, you won't escape my melodious voice" you murmured after a few seconds, when the commotion calmed down a bit.

Taking him by the hand, you led him to the table where you had the chocolate cake with a couple of candles that formed the number 30. Everyone sang the song while the wick burned down and the boy looked anywhere, with that certain shyness characteristic of him. When he blew out the candle to make his wish, you all applauded and that started the celebration.

There were some appetizers on the table and Rossi had stocked all the drinks quite well, as he had promised. As the minutes passed you hovered here and there to check that things were in order, arranging everything as if it were your own apartment, and Spencer could only smile at how well you seemed to get along with everyone. The last time you'd seen the team was, sure enough, during Emily's funeral, but that didn't mean there wasn't some history between you.

He still remembered the feeling of shame when in the early years he had asked Gideon for permission to summon someone to the hotel during a case in Las Vegas. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you, but that he was ashamed of having to reveal something so important in his life to his FBI colleagues. The agent didn't object at all, but that didn't spare the man from being grilled by Derek and Elle about which mysterious lady their younger coworker was talking to. Over the years, people left the unit, and others joined, but the constant was always you. Even now, if a replacement happened, Spencer knew that the rest of the team would take it upon themselves to introduce you to said person.

At some point he felt a tremendous nostalgia for that time and in a chain of thoughts he came to ask himself if working where he did was the right thing to do. Turning thirty was cause for celebration, but for him it was also tantamount to thinking how well he had lived up to the expectations of what he expected to have achieved at this age: How much progress should he have made in the world by now? Was it any use having that brilliant mind that everyone raved about if he was working in a government office? And what about his personal life? He wanted to get married at some point and wondered if he should be looking for love instead of criminals. Even while he was through all this, he wished he could focus on how happy his friends had made him instead of worrying about other things.

"Up to here I can see the gears of your brain" laughed someone next to him. It was Emily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he murmured, shaking his head softly "I was thinking about some things, it's just that"

"You should drink some more, that wine that Dave brought tastes delicious" she smiled, inviting him to come closer to the others to chat.

It was a bit ironic, but completely understandable, that even at his own birthday party he would remain a bit oblivious to the situation. Following Emily's advice, he poured himself another drink and joined the other attendees to enjoy the moment. For hours you laughed and chatted, until the drinks were running out and your drunkenness rising.

The parents of the group were the first to leave and the last was a drunk Penelope who threatened to stay there to sleep, but Derek took it upon himself to guide her to his car to take her home. It was late at night when only you and Spencer were left, amidst all the decorations in the room.

"Peace and tranquility"

"It was too much?" you laughed, knowing that your friend could become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.

"No, no. Just kidding"

“And was it okay for you? You had fun?" you asked, referring to the party, as the two of you sat down on the leather couch. The dress you were wearing rose to the top of your thighs and his attention strayed there for a second, so he looked up guiltily; He didn't help the blush on his cheeks that there was your cleavage.

"Everything was wonderful"

"Are you seriously not mad at me?" you insisted

"No, honey, I'm not," he laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that he had said that to you, since it wasn't something he was used to, and just smiled sheepishly, "I mean, at first I was a little, but now that I understand why you did it, I'm not anymore."

“You are already thirty… you are so old!”

"You are older than me!" he squealed, completely offended, and you responded with a laugh. Although that was true, you looked more jovial than the man, something that a variety of people had taken it upon themselves to verify.

"Now that I remember, do you want to see your gift?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my gift?" The confusion was evident in his voice and you refrained from answering, as you bolted into the room. You came back from there with a box in your hands, which you later placed on your lap with evident emotion.

“I wrapped it myself” you confessed, rather proud of yourself. You had found a piece of paper to cover with drawings of equations and small microscopes that you thought captured the essence of your friend and, of course, now that he had seen it, he had liked it a lot.

The man's fingers drummed the surface under your expectant gaze, and then he winced slightly.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, I think maybe I should open it later…"

"Spencer Reid!" you yelled. It was obvious that he was only joking with you and you knew that by the laugh that escaped his lips.

Your friend opened the box almost ceremonially and then removed the tissue paper that covered the contents: above all there were two hardcover books, one about the world of fungi and the other about poetry, next to it an hourglass, then three boxes with jigsaw puzzles, a pocket chess game, packets of Reid's favorite sweets, and last but not least, a picture of the two of you in a pretty chocolate-colored frame and a little paper envelope to go with it. One by one he was taking out the gifts and his smile only grew with each object, while he felt his heart grow with love.

"I remember this day" he murmured, referring to the photograph you had chosen. The sky was blue behind you and you were kissing Spencer's cheek, who was smiling at how spontaneous it had been “We were in a park after going to an art exhibition."

“And we bought the most delicious ice cream in the world”

"I differ, I've had better," he murmured, shrugging. The truth is that you thought that the ice cream had been delicious because of the whole panorama of that day, not so much because of the taste itself.

Spencer knew that photo would have to go on his desk in the bullpen, although the taunts he was sure the others would throw at him. Perhaps having you there would serve as a reminder that there was good in the world, despite everything he could see on the job every day.

“Oh, and I read somewhere that hourglasses help people with anxiety because it's relaxing to watch the sand fall so they can focus on it. I thought you might like it, I bought it at an antique store."

"It's very nice" he agreed, turning the object over and checking that it actually worked "I'll open the note, okay?"

Spencer always preferred that you read his letters in private because if he saw your face and knew you were reading those words he would just cringe, but you didn't seem to share that trait so you agreed to his request. As with the box, he carefully opened the envelope and then pulled out a handwritten note.

I hope you like these little gifts that try to express a huge love.

Never doubt that you are making a change in the world and that you are surrounded by people who love you, including your old neighbor who now ironically lives too far from you.

Happy 30th birthday to my favorite person in the entire world. I am confident that many more years will come for both of us.

Always yours, Y/N.

"Don't cry, Reid" you asked gently, feeling your own tears at the edge of your eyes. Spencer smiled and leaned in your direction to wrap you in a hug so hopefully you wouldn't notice if he got emotional.

"Thank you" was the only thing he managed to say.

He wanted to thank you not only for that day but for years of friendship, years of feeling like he wasn't so alone in the world if he had you by his side and even thank you for treating him like a normal kid when no one else did. And as always, you perfectly understood what he was referring to.

You stayed like that for a few minutes; Spencer tucked into the crook of your neck and cooing at the throbbing on your pulse line, and you basking in the warmth of the contact.

“Did you like the puzzles?”

"Yeah! They are great” he replied, as he moved away from you so that he could observe you “Do you want us to put one together?”

“Sure” you smiled “Just let me put on my pajamas and I'll be right back, okay?”

"Good. You look very beautiful in that dress, by the way. I don't know if I forgot to tell you” he flattered you, making you smile sincerely.

"You chose it, remember?"

Before getting up you kindly squeezed his cheek and after changing your clothes you returned to where you were. He had chosen the puzzle with the design of a Monet painting and spread it out on the floor, where the two of you settled comfortably.

Your friend took a bunch of pieces and you took another and you guys worked in silence until little by little things started to come together. He was very good at the task and very soon he already had a considerable part assembled; although you were going a little slower you followed a constant rhythm.

"Hey, Spencer"

"Yeah?" he asked, too intent on finding a place for the piece in his fingers to watch you.

“What was your birthday wish? When blowing out the candles”

"Oh, I didn't wish for anything"

"Why?" you asked confused.

Spencer looked up from the puzzle and smiled at you.

"Because my birthday wish was already right here"

It seemed obvious to him, but it took you a second to understand exactly what he meant and when you finally did, your eyes gave him the sweetest look of all.

You and your friend stayed up all night until the play was over and after that you both stumbled to bed, where you fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

At some point Spencer half-opened his eyes, prisoner of a bad dream, and when he was aware of the situation he felt the peace he needed. After that it didn't take him long to get back to sleep, with a smile on his face and his whole world held in his arms.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you

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nelle-y · 1 month

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Happy birthday!

Synopsis: a birthday in bed *wink wink*

Content: Diluc x reader, fluff, slightly smut, modern!au, not proofread

Note: Happy birthday, Diluc! (A little late and rushed but I did it!)

—

April 30th!

You feel giddy at the marked date on your calendar. It’s Diluc’s birthday today! Thoughts bombard you with ideas as you flip heart-shaped pancakes. Your lover, bless his tired head, laid asleep on your shared bed, unaware that you had already woken up.

The pancakes are fluffy; fresh berries, syrup, and a small cube of butter coat it from the top—just the way he likes it. You hear the alarm buzz from your room. Time to serve the birthday boy!

You slowly turn the knob of your bedroom. His red hair shrivels on his face like the morning dew. Once you’ve opened the door fully, the sweet ache of your heart basks in your lover’s pure beauty. Diluc sat up with his eyes threatening to shut once more.

“Happy birthday to you,” you sang softly. He smiles at your serene voice. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, my Diluc, happy birthday to you.”

You present him your heart-shaped pancakes. He gives you a groggy and deep chuckle, filled with sleepiness. Your lips make their way to his cheeks before setting down the meal on your bedside table. “What do you want to do today, birthday boy?”

He answers you with a hug, pulling you into him as he inhales your scent. “I want to love you,” he mutters.

Your cheeks grow ablaze at this, his voice sultry and enchanting. “Wh-what?” Subconsciously, your hips stick above his like magnets.

“It’s my birthday. And you did such a great job at preparing the perfect breakfast for me.” Diluc pulls you in for a light kiss. “So early in the morning, too. I know you don’t like getting up at this time; thank you, baby.”

His kisses are growing heavier now, hardly ever parting for air. His calloused hands slide to your waist and he pulls you closer to him in yearning. Your hearts hasten their pulse, the thrill between your legs and within your veins leaves you both a panting mess.

“You haven’t even had your breakfast yet, silly.”

Diluc takes over your body, pinning you on the bed while leaving artful kisses between your ears and your jaw. He then whispers, “Don’t you think I deserve to have my dessert first today?”

Just at his voice, you were ready to give yourself to him. “The ants will get to your pancakes, Diluc.”

“Let them, they’ll get too jealous once they see me eating something sweeter.” He grumbled as he sunk down between your thighs, inching your underwear off, followed by the sweet sweet bliss of his tongue.

—the end.—

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #diluc smut #diluc fluff #happy birthday #diluc x reader #genshin modern au

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scotianostra · 1 month

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Happy Birthday Sam Roland Heughan, born 30th April 1980 in Balmaclellan, Dumfries and Galloway.

Sam got his name from the Lord of the Rings character Samwise Gamgee. his parents were big fans of the Tolkien books. He attended Kells Primary School in New Galloway before the family moved to Edinburgh when he was 12, he went to James Gillespie’s on the edge of the meadows before finishing his school education at the prestigious Rudolph Steiner School.

After leaving School at 18 Sam worked and travelled before returning to Scotland and enrolling in the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, graduating in 2003.

Sam built a solid career in theatre in both Scotland and England starring in productions of Plague Over England, Macbeth, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Amphibians, and King John. He has also been featured in notable indie films, Emulsion, and Heart Of Lightness but of course it is one particular role that has catapulted him into worldwide stardom, that of Jamie Fraser in Outlander.

For those who don’t know Outlander it follows the story of Claire Randall, a married combat nurse from 1945 who finds herself hurled back in time to the 1740’s in and around the time when The Jacobites and Bonnie Prince Charlie made the final ill fated attempt to put the Stuarts back on the throne. Sam plays Claire’s “love interest” she is forced to marry. Further series are set in the US in the 1770’s, their remains a strong Scottish presence in the cast, and the show is filmed in studios in Cumbernauld. Sam has won a number of awards for the series.

In the movie To Olivia he played Hollywood star Paul Newman and in the adaptation of the Andy McNab book, SAS: Red Notice, he played SAS soldier Tom Buckingham. Oor birthdat boy also teamed up with fellow Outlander star Graham McTavish Men in Kilts: A Roadtrip with Sam and Graham. The series follows the pair as they explore their homeland delving into the culture and history of Scotland, in a light-hearted way. The second series of the show aired last year, the reviews were mainly positive. The duo are already looking at a third journey, this time to North America but that will likely involve indulging Heughan's thrill-seeking side - much to his friend's dismay

Sam also appeared in the psychological series The Couple Next Door last year, I am yet to catch this, it has average reviews on IMDB of 5.6 out of ten. Born to be Great the story of Alexander The Great's early life has been completed but is yet to recieve a release date.

According to reports Sam celebrated his birthday in Edinburgh at the weekend while also running his My Peak Challenge which included workouts, outdoor activities and a gala night with dinner and dancing. He posted on Instagram describing the event as a 'unique blend of wellness, camaraderie, celebration and more'. The peakers, as they are known has raised millions for charities including Marie Curie.

#scotland #scottish #Happy Birthday #Actor #Outlander

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laurenairay · 9 days

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how long I had to fight to be living my life – N. Blankenburg

Summary: When Nora’s car breaks down, it’s just her luck that her ex-boyfriend Nick is the only one who answers the phone.

Happy (early) 30th birthday @wyattjohnston! I managed to hit bingo with the squares marriage pact, late night rescue, exes to lovers (for the free space), stranded, and ‘there will never be anyone else’. Only for you Demi, and literally only for you, will I write a fic for Nick Blankenburg. I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, childhood sweethearts, exes to lovers, mild mention of injuries

Title from Remember that Night? by Sara Kays

“No, no, no, come on!”

As her car sputtered to a stop, Nora groaned, smacking her hand against the steering wheel once before closing her eyes and tilting her head back. Of all the bad luck, she had to break down at 2am down a quiet street, in pitch black darkness with literally no-one else around. When she’d agreed to cover a couple of hours shift for one of her fellow nurses, she’d agreed without hesitation – the money was always helpful. But now, it just looked like that money she’d worked her ass off for would just be poured into whatever the hell had gone wrong with her car.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Her dad always made her save a couple of local 24-hour tow truck numbers, something which she’d always called him overprotective for…but now she was grateful for. Thankfully, the first one she called answered and agreed to pick her up immediately. The only thing was, due to the hour of the night, all they could do was tow it to their company yard until the morning before they could take it to a mechanic. And from their company yard? She had no way of getting home. Her dad wasn’t answering his phone, neither were her mom or her mom’s boyfriend. None of her best friends were either. Not that she blamed them – it was 3am by this point, a completely ridiculous hour, but all she wanted was to go home and go to bed and possibly cry. It had been a 15-hour shift so to have all of this on top of it? Not the best night she’d ever had.

As she scrolled through her phone, she was running out of options of people to contact – and then she landed on the one name she knew she shouldn’t call at all. Nick Blankenburg. Her ex-boyfriend. She didn’t even know if he was back in town yet but with no-one else answering, she had little choice. Come on Nick, pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Hello? Nora?”

“H-Hi, Nick. Sorry to call so late,” Nora said softly.

He answered. Of course he answered.

“What’s wrong? Are you drunk?”

“Rude.”

“We broke up 2 years ago and you’re calling me out of the blue at 3am. If you’re not drunk, then what’s wrong?”

Well he had a point there. But still.

“My car broke down. I was able to get a tow truck but I can’t get it fixed until the morning for obvious reasons,” Nora sighed.

“You need a ride?”

He offered? Just like that?

“Y-Yeah. If that’s okay. I know it’s not exactly ideal,” she murmured.

“I’m not leaving you stranded. Send me your location pin and I’ll leave right away.”

“Thanks Nick.”

“Yep.”

His brusqueness wasn’t rudeness, not in the slightest. It was concern in his voice, she knew that much – she never thought she’d hear that again, not from him.

“You got a ride sorted yet?”

She flinched slightly at the voice of the tow truck driver behind her, to which he laughed softly, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, honest. I got a daughter about your age and I know she would be freaking out right now if it was her.”

Well, that was a little more reassuring.

“Yeah, I’ve got a ride. He should be here soon,” she nodded, smiling even if it felt a little forced, “I’m not freaking out too much right now, I know things will get fixed.”

“Good, good. I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to take your car to the mechanic tomorrow and you can meet us there?”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good. Thanks,” she said, trying not to think about how much the repairs would cost.

That was a problem for tomorrow.

The truck driver left her alone after that, heading back inside the building, but he left the light on to show her she wasn’t alone, which gave her a little comfort. The minutes felt like they stretched into hours while she waited for Nick, not all because of her exhaustion. She hadn’t seen him since they broke up those two long years ago, not even in passing. Sure, that had mostly been on purpose, but it didn’t make what was coming any easier.

Why had she called him?

Why had he answered?

Why had he offered to pick her up?

Before she could get any logical answers to those questions, the old familiar engine rumble sounded around the corner, and a car she never thought she’d see again pulled to a stop in front of her.

“Shit Nor, you look exhausted.”

Exactly what she needed to hear. With a groan, she picked up her bag and sent a wave over her shoulder, before getting inside the car.

“Thanks Nick, just what every woman likes to hear,” she said dryly, buckling her seatbelt.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed, running a hand over his hair.

He looked good. A little too skinny maybe, end of season weight loss, but still…he looked good. Of course he did. He was Nick Blankenburg.

“Thanks for picking me up. Can we go?”

“Yeah course. Uh, where am I taking you?”

Right, because she’d moved out of her dad’s place after they’d broken up.

Nick stayed silent as she rattled off her address, plugging it into his phone before starting to drive. It wasn’t going to take more than 20 minutes for him to drive her, but she didn’t know how she was going to stay sane. Nick was just staring resolutely out at the empty streets, radio playing quietly, not really breaking the awkward silence.

It wasn’t that their break-up had been a nasty messy blow out. Yeah, there were arguments and stupid things said back and forth, but nothing that made her hate him. They’d just…grown apart. It had been hard enough with the distance of him at UMich – and all the rightful attention he’d had – she’d gotten jealous of girls flirting and he didn’t try hard enough to reassure her. His captaincy and dedication to the team was something he’d worked hard for, and she’d been so proud of him – but that focus had meant their relationship had slipped through the cracks. And with him trying to make it in professional hockey? Nick signing that first contract with the Blue Jackets had been the death of them.

She’d been so proud of him, just as he’d deserved, because he was finally making his dream come true. But she’d had to be honest with herself – they couldn’t handle the distance of just over an hour for four years, so how could they handle being over 4 hours apart when all of his focus had to be on his career?

The final time they’d seen each other had been the most she’d ever seen him cry. It was the most she had ever cried in her life too. The cumulation of what seemed like a lifetime had swirled down the drain and there was nothing left in either of them to try to fix it. But Nick had left with one promise – if she ever truly needed him, he would be there.

Nora hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Seems like her subconscious had remembered after all.

“So…long shift tonight?”

The familiar awkwardness in his voice made her crack a smile without her being able to help it.

“Yeah. My regular 12-hour shift plus another 3 hours to cover for another nurse,” she nodded, glancing over at him.

The immediate grimace on his face made her laugh, earning a twitch of a smile from him.

“That sounds awful,” he murmured.

“That’s nursing,” she said, shrugging.

His eyes darted to her voice briefly, before locking back on the road.

“You love nursing, don’t you.”

He could still read her that easily?

“Yeah, I really do. It’s like I finally know what I’m meant to be doing,” she nodded, smiling.

He smiled tightly at her, nodding back. The unease settled back in her chest, making her sigh softly.

“How’s hockey?”

Nick barked out a laugh, making her frown. What the hell had happened to him?

“I still love it, but I don’t think it loves me,” he muttered.

Well, fuck. “What do you mean?” she prompted.

It had hurt too much to follow his career after he left. She’d had every intention of keeping track of his games, but when it had come to it? It had been too hard.

“I got sent down to the AHL at the end of the season. I’ve had injuries all year. And it’s the end of my two-year contract now. So I’m really not sure what the hell is going to happen to me next season. If I even have a next season.”

For all the years she’d known him, she’d never heard this much bitterness in his voice. Not in AAA hockey. Not in Juniors. Not at UMich. Not in his struggles to get drafted. Not in their hard times. Not even in their break-up. What the hell had happened to him?

“Everything will work out,” she murmured.

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed.

She flinched at the sharpness in his voice, something he immediately noticed by the way he cursed under his breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, interrupting, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You can always ask, Nor,” he replied.

“Pretty sure I lost that right two years ago,” she pointed out.

Nick huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Nora was just glad the tension was broken. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking, calling Nick – but at least they weren’t yelling at each other. That was a silver lining.

“There will never be anyone else who I’d be this honest to,” he shrugged.

Nora swallowed heavily, taking in a shaky breath as Nick glanced over at her.

“I can’t be the only person you talk to about this stuff,” she murmured.

“Who else am I going to trust?”

“You want to what?”

“I want to make a pact with you,” Nick said simply.

“We are 10 years old and you want to make a marriage pact with me?”

“You’re the prettiest girl in class and you’re one of my best friends. Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, dummy,” Nora giggled.

“I’m not a dummy, you’re a dummy!” Nick shot back.

Nora just giggled harder, sticking her tongue out at Nick through her missing front teeth.

“Pretty sure you’re meant to be boyfriend girlfriend first before you get married,” she pointed out.

Nick seemed to think about that for a few seconds before shrugging. “Okay let’s be boyfriend girlfriend.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“So you’ll hold my hand? And kick Jimmy Smith when he makes fun of my curly hair? And eat lunch with me?” Nora asked hopefully.

“Only if you help me with my math homework. And pick the best bandaids for my knees. And stay my best friend forever,” Nick nodded.

“Best friends forever?”

“Who else am I going to trust?”

As the memory of those words rushed through her, Nora choked on a gasp, glancing over at Nick with tears in her eyes.

“You still remember?”

“You still remember?” she countered.

“My concussions haven’t been that bad, Nor,” he mused.

She winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nick nodded, accepting her answer. “I still remember, because making that pact with you was still one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

The tears truly stung at her eyes now, and she shook her head. “We were so young. And so stupid.”

“Maybe. But we were boyfriend girlfriend for 12 years so I think I did something right,” he smirked.

Boyfriend girlfriend. It sounded so childish, so innocent when he said it like that, but wasn’t that exactly what they were for 12 years? 12 long years and this is where they were now.

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” he murmured.

“I miss you.”

Those were not the words she expected to come out of her mouth, but it was far too late to take them back now. Even if Nick looked like he’d been stunned into silence.

“You miss me?” he eventually asked, surprisingly her slightly with how his voice was full of wonder rather than disgust.

“Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” she groaned.

“Absolutely not,” Nick shot back.

That slow grin that spread over his face was so familiar, so Nick, and it still sent a shiver up her spine. Damn it. The way his eyes crinkled with the force of his smile still filled her stomach with butterflies. Damn it.

“My mom still asks about you, you know,” he said softly.

“Oh my god, don’t bring Momma Blanks into this, that’s just mean,” she murmured.

Nick snorted, lifting one hand off the wheel to hold it up in surrender. It wasn’t until he put his hand back on the wheel and pulled to a stop that she realised where they were. Outside her apartment building. Where had that journey gone?

“I guess this is it then,” Nora said quietly.

Those words ached in her chest the moment they left her lips.

“Does it have to be?”

With Nick’s full attention on her now, it was hard to feel anything but completely consumed.

“We broke up, Nick. Two years ago,” she said simply, trying to guard herself.

“And they have been the hardest two years of my life.”

Nora inhaled sharply. “You chose hockey. As you rightly should have, because it’s the career you wanted for so long, but you chose hockey!”

“I know that! I fight and struggle and claw my way through each day, hoping to find what I’m looking for, and I can’t because I left that behind when we broke up!”

He was breathing raggedly, emotion pouring into his words, eyes so full of devastation that they broke her heart all over again. Nick swallowed heavily, huffing out a laugh, before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. That wasn’t fair. I just…I miss you, Nora. Maybe tonight was fate,” he said softly.

“You think my car breaking down after a long 15-hour shift is fate,” she said dryly.

“Oh my god I don’t know why I love you.”

Even as he groaned dramatically, she knew he meant every word. He loved her. He still loved her. Even after two years, he still loved her? Nora didn’t know what was showing on her face, but Nick sighed softly before sending her a weak smile.

“We can pretend I didn’t say that,” he offered.

His voice was so quiet, so small, nothing like she’d ever heard before. He was nervous. She hated it.

“Can’t take it back now, Blankenburg. I heard you loud and clear,” Nora said simply, smile threatening to spill over her lips.

Nick’s own lips parted in surprise for a moment, before he laughed loud and clear, the most genuine things she’d heard from him all night. “Do you need a ride to the mechanic tomorrow morning?”

“You going to be my knight in shining armour again?”

“As long as you’ll let me, princess.”

She couldn’t help slipping back into her old teasing, Nick’s answering grin cementing it for her. Tonight had been dangerous for her heart, everything she’d been trying to protect herself against for the past two years. And yet here she was, flirting with her ex-boyfriend like nothing had changed.

“Give me a call when you need me?” he suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, I will do,” she nodded, slipping her bag strap over her shoulder as she tried to calm her racing heart.

But as she opened the car door, Nick’s hand shot out to stop her, his large hand surrounding her wrist easily. His thumb stoked over the thin skin in a way that made her shiver, something which he clearly noticed with the way he smiled sharply, heated.

“It really was good to see you, Nora,” he murmured.

“It was good to see you too, Nick.”

And as he let her go, she knew in her bones that this was the start of something completely new.

#my writing #nick blankenburg fic #demi's birthday bingo #nick blankenburg fanfic #nick blankenburg imagine #nick blankenburg x oc #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday

Captain Price x F!reader

Here you go my lil thirsty babies

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut - you can have a surprise again lmao

The taxi pulled up to your Captains home, a quaint little cottage just off an estate in Hereford. It was a night of celebration, your 30th birthday. The good Captain took it upon himself to throw you a birthday BBQ with the rest of your team. After a gruelling mission it was something you were desperately looking to.

It was a warm July evening, a humid breeze swirled around you as you walked up to the front door. Solid oak, washed a deep walnut colour, it was impressive. There was a thatched roof too, giving it a perfect English country vibe.

Knocking on the door you tucked your hair behind your ear, pulling your summer dress down a little more.

The door creaked open and Price met you with a warm smile, ‘you’re early love.’ Furrowing your brows you wrinkled your nose ‘no I’m not? You said six?’ He reached out and grabbed the small case of beer from your grasp with a wink, ‘definitely said seven.’ He moved slightly allowing you to enter his home.

It was quite minimalist, but colourful, various indoor plants decorated the window sills and corners of the room. You passed an antique bar which was full to the brim with various spirits, liqueurs and wines. There was an old fireplace which looked heavily used in the living room which lead through the kitchen.

‘Jesus’ you whispered as you stepped into the room. It was beautiful, a picturesque country kitchen you’d find in a magazine. The French doors were open which looked out upon a beautifully kept garden, it looked like it kept going to the horizon. He brushed past you, his warm skin grazed your arm as he walked to his fridge. ‘Sir, this kitchen is beautiful!’

As he popped the lid off your beer he chuckled to himself ‘we’re off duty, you can call me John love.’ Handing you the beer his eyes lingered on yours, fingertips touching briefly as you took the glass bottle off him. Smirking you took a swig and hopped up onto the counter watching him as he prepared the food. ‘So, how long have you lived here? It’s stunning.’

He kept his eyes on the vegetables as he chopped them up for the salad, ‘about five years now, was a proper dump when I got it. But I renovated it when I had some time off, did as much of it as I could on my own. Finally finished it last year.’ Gazing around the room at the low hanging beams, the tan tiles on the floor and beautiful deep copper sink you were surprised he’d done so much. ‘Not just a pretty face then sir’ you smirked as you took another swig.

He chewed his jaw as he looked over to you, your legs dangling off the counter, the golden hue of the sun illuminated your face, your eyes, your hair. Walking over to you he pulled at the drawer, his arm once again brushing you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the utensils he flashed his eyes up at you, the blue pools glimmered in the evening sun. ‘John’ he corrected.

‘Mmm, John.’ You tried out his name on your tongue. It felt foreign. Dirty.

You slid your leg across the counter and slowly pushed the drawer shut. Taking another swig you placed the bottle down and took his jaw in your hand. ‘I think I prefer sir.’

A primal growl emanated from his chest as he moved between your legs. From the very beginning there had been tension between the two of you. Furtive glances, banter, flirting, the foundation all ready in place to what ever was about to transpire. A hand slid up your thigh as you kept his gaze on you ‘you wanna fuck me John?’ Biting your lip you watched as he took a sharp inhale ‘like you wouldn’t fucking believe.’

Pulling him him closer you nipped at his ear lobe, ‘we got forty five minutes, you best take it then sir.’

With one smooth movement he wrapped his arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. Pulling you into a hungry kiss, you wrapped your own arms around his neck and hooked a leg around his waist. Moaning into the kiss you slid your hips towards him, your barely covered pussy glossing over his crotch.

He broke the kiss slightly, as he gasped into the space between you. ‘Christ’ he breathed as he lowered his hand to find you wearing nothing but very thin lace panties. Caressing it with a finger he felt how wet you were already causing him to chuckle slightly. ‘Already?’ He was in disbelief.

‘Always so wet around you sir, you have no idea’ you whispered pulling him back into a deep kiss. Slipping your tongue into his mouth he welcomed it without a second thought. As your tongues danced and fought with one another he pushed your panties to the side, brushing his finger along your slit. Groaning once again at your aroused state.

Testing the waters he slipped a finger into you, eliciting a whine from your throat. You rolled your hips towards him again urging him to continue. He pushed in another, stretching you open with every thrust. Keeping his pace in time with the kiss he gently grazed his thumb over your clit causing you to jolt. Both knees hooked around his waist your toes pointed through sheer pleasure.

Gripping his hair between your fingers you pulled him closer to you, wanting to inhale every part of him. The sound of your pussy echoed around the kitchen as the summer breeze swirled around you from the open doors. He tasted like whiskey, top shelf of course. He smelt like pine and fresh cotton.

Breaking away from the kiss you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. ‘I need you to fuck me’ you whispered against his jaw ‘I need you, now.’ He trialled kisses down your neck to your collar bone as he pushed you backward so you were now lying on his granite counter top. As he removed his fingers you hissed, watching as he sucked them clean smirking as your sweet taste.

‘If I’d have known you tasted like that I would have eaten this pussy months ago’ he drawled. Peeking at the clock he tutted ‘that’ll have to wait love, running out of time.’ Pulling his cock on the ran it up and down your slit a few times, gathering your arousal. You screwed your eyes shut as the head of his cock nudged clit over and over.

Pushing in you both gasped, a shudder ran down his spine as your pussy greedily sucked him in. He began to slowly move, stretching you out with every roll of his hips. He upped his pace, soon settling into a brash rhythm. You clawed at his arms, feeling his defined forearms as he grasped at your waist. ‘Fuck John’ you whined from the back of your throat. Your voice was hoarse and dry but dripping with need.

‘Keep sayin’ my name like that’ he grunted ‘keep going.’ Needling little persuasion you repeated his name, a devilish smirk on your face as you ran your tongue along your teeth. Lifting your one ankle up to his shoulder allowed him to thrust deeper into you. Completely bottoming out. As he glances down he saw a creamy ring around his cock which made his eyes roll to the back of his head. ‘Takin me so well, feels so good.’

Dropping a hand to you clit you began to rub small circles, applying the just the perfect amount of pressure. ‘Atta girl, show me how you like it’ he breathed into your ankle, kissing it tenderly. Feeling the familiar tightness grow in your abdomen your jaw began to go slack, pussy beginning to tighten.

‘You gonna cum for me?’ He ordered, slapping your outer thigh. ‘Yes, yes, fuuuuck’ you moaned ‘harder daddy please!’ There it was, the word he’d been waiting for, the most sinful word that could have dropped from your swollen lips. A guttural moan left his chest as he ramped up his pace again. Slamming his cock into you, over and over and over. Watching how your breasts and thighs bounced with the sheer force of him.

‘Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s gonna ruin this pretty little pussy.’ He felt you clench at his words. At his tone of voice. ‘Fuck I’m gonna cum!’ You whined, your body writhing beneath him. Using only one hand he pulled you upright by your dress as you came, resting your foreheads on one another’s. Another strangled moan and flurry of curses and ‘daddy’s’ fell from you, he inhaled them like the very air he needed to live.

As you came down from your high he noticed he was getting close ‘in me, John, cum in me, on the pill.’ That’s all he needed to hear. As he came inside you, you gripped his hair forcing him to look at you. Completely switching you grinned ‘mmm good boy John.’ The change in your attitude took him by surprise, causing a broken whimper to burst from his throat.

As his thrusts slowed you kissed him again, cupping his jaw. Pulling out he knelt to the floor, taking you by surprise. He swiped his tongue along your slit making you gasp, keeping his eyes on yours he licked at his cum dripping from your pussy. Before spitting it back onto you. ‘Don’t you dare clean that up. I want my cum to stay in those panties, until I take them off later .’ He gripped at your neck before giving you a peck on the lips ‘is that understood?’

Taking a sharp inhale you swallowed, hard. ‘Yes sir.’

‘Good.’ As he went to turn away he stopped himself grinning at you ‘oh, happy birthday.’

#call of duty #captain price #captain price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price #cod mw22 #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price smut #john price x you

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, spit play, vaginal sex (doggy, cowgirl), cockwarming, use of pet names (princess and Master)

Word Count: ~5.6k

Summary: An alluring stranger gives you a special treat on the night of your 30th birthday.

Notes: Kishibe is in his mid 40s. Also, apparently he is 6’4”, so reader is shorter, below 6’. This is very self-indulgent considering my own 30th is in a few days (shout out to all my fellow Pisces babes)! Also, I started this after finishing Chainsaw Man a few weeks ago, so this is a result of heavy Kishibe brainrot.

Additional Note: Check out Part 2 here: After Last Night! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!

--------------------

The bass of EDM music reverberates through the speakers at the DJ’s booth. This particular bar you frequent turns into a club at 11 PM. College kids from the university down the street congregate in this establishment on the weekends, like today. You and your friends have been here since an hour ago, drinking and chatting in a booth hidden away to the side of the dancefloor. After dinner, you stopped by for a quick drink. With the booze and vibes just right, you ended up staying.

Tonight, you celebrate your birthday. It’s the end of an era, really. You’re officially thirty. You’ve been dreading this day for the past few months, sad to bid farewell to your twenties, which wasn’t all that anyways. The number of times your friends reassure you that your thirties are the new twenties only brings you mild comfort. Glancing at the crowd tearing up the dancefloor, you can’t help being envious of their youth.

Maybe it’s your buzz talking. You’re not one to feel sorry for yourself, especially about something as inevitable as aging. Thirty is young. Who cares if you’re the only one in your inner circle who’s single, unmarried, or childless? There’s no shame in it. You’re sick of women being scrutinized each year they get older for not doing what society tells them they should do. Who the fuck cares if you don’t have a ring on your finger or haven’t popped a baby out your vagina yet? It isn’t on your radar, and that’s perfectly fine. Men don’t get this much shit for remaining bachelors well into their forties or fifties, why should you?

You fidget with the glittery Dirty 30! sash you wear over your little black dress. A shimmering tiara sparkles on top of your head to complete your ensemble. Your friend’s voice in your ear snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hey birthday girl, how’s it going?”

Smiling, you hold your half empty glass up towards the middle. “Good. Thanks so much for coming out to celebrate tonight!” You’re ready to chug the rest of your liquor so you can head to the dancefloor. The other three women in your group cheers, clinking their drinks with yours.

You’re about to suggest dancing when your friend says, “Shall we call it a night?”

It catches you off guard. The music just started and it’s not even midnight yet. You’re not ready to go back to the real world; it’s your special day until you fall asleep, which you don’t plan to do for a few more hours. You’re silent though, listening as the other girls repeat a similar sentiment.

“My husband is waiting for me at home, so yes.”

“And my babies have an early morning play date tomorrow!”

Your friend beside you turns to you and asks, “Ready to go?”

Contemplating for a moment, you respond, “I think I might stay, actually. Have another drink or two.”

They stare at you bewildered, surprised you want to be here alone, which is unusual for you. “Are you sure?” they clarify.

“Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl now,” you joke, standing up to hug them. They kiss you on the cheek, greeting you one last happy birthday before leaving together to go home to their husbands and children.

Craving another drink, you abandon your booth to approach the bar. You order your favorite: a vodka cranberry, your comfort cocktail throughout your 20s. A reminder that you’re still the same you despite moving up a decade.

You close your tab, promising yourself this is your last, and go back to your table. It’s now occupied by an older man in a black coat, sipping on amber liquor. Annoyed, and slightly intrigued, you sit opposite of him in the same booth. He lifts his head up slowly, noticing you.

“Hi there,” you greet him. Even in the dim light, the stitched scar on his left cheek stands out. The metal piercings on his ears glisten, the strobe lights reflecting off them from the dancefloor.

“Can I help you?” His voice is low and raspy, either naturally or from the alcohol.

“I was sitting here earlier. The other tables are all occupied, and I really don’t want to stand around on the dancefloor by myself. Can I sit here until I finish my drink? There’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You put on your most charming smile.

“Where are your friends? I’m sure you’d rather sit with them instead of with an old man like me.”

“They ditched me to go home. Besides, it looks like you could use the company.” You tip your cocktail into your mouth, keeping your gaze on him.

He watches you, skeptical. “How old are you?”

You glance down at your sash, which is now twisted so that the answer to his question is on your back where he can’t see. You grin at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He hums, unamused. “I’m not keen on hanging out with girls in their 20s. Not really my style. Not tonight, anyways.”

“How old do you think I am?”

Narrowing his eyes at your tiara, he responds, “You’re wearing a crown, drinking a cranberry vodka at a bar that plays this shit music. I’d say you’re 23.”

This amuses you, like getting asked for your ID does, which is becoming rarer nowadays. It’s flattering.

“Hey, you’re here too. The only difference is that you’re drinking a whiskey,” you tease him, pointing at his glass.

“In my defense, I finished work nearby and this shitty cesspool was the closest bar I could find.” He takes a swig of his alcohol. “So, am I right?”

Sliding the sash to face him, you answer, “Nope. You’re wrong. Lucky for you, today is my birthday. And I just turned thirty.”

He cracks a smile at this, giving you a flutter below your belly. You’re not typically into older men; however, this guy has piqued your interest. There’s something about him that is alluring. Exciting.

“Happy birthday,” he says, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “Get anything good?”

“No. But the night’s not over yet.” You’re full-on flirting now, not at all ashamed of how brazen you’re acting. Fuck it. You only turn thirty once, right?

There’s distance between you, but the tension is so thick, you could smell the bold scent of liquor coating his lips. He leans closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you something good.”

~~~

Minutes later, you’re in the back of the cab, riding towards an address he mutters to the driver. He holds you, interlocking his fingers with yours, peering out his window in silence. You focus on your entwined hands resting on the middle seat, the intimacy of it all distracting you from the fact that you’re about to hook up with this attractive stranger.

The driver arrives to a swanky apartment complex. Once inside, Kishibe doesn’t give you enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of the room. In an instant, his lips are on yours, both palms cupping your cheeks assertively. Breath hot and chalky from the mint you saw him savor earlier in the car. It barely masks the lingering taste of that cigarette you witnessed him drag waiting for your ride. He didn’t have the same type of smoker’s breath that you’re sick of from your coworkers. With him, you don’t mind it at all.

His hand trails down your neck, thumb carefully brushing over a pulse point right below your chin. His skin is rough and calloused compared to yours. The scraggly facial hair scattered along his jaw is scratchy on your cheeks.

He breaks the kiss, gazing at you while he removes his overcoat, hanging it on the rack in the corner, kicking his shoes off in the process. There’s a small bar cart in the kitchen, where he pours himself a whiskey. At the freezer, he reaches for the ice, dropping three cubes into the dark liquor with a plop. You stand still, observing him, nervous and thrilled about what this mysterious man will do to you tonight.

At the couch, he takes a seat, thighs spread wide, his wrist hanging low between them, gripping the top of the glass with his fingertips. “Come here,” he beckons.

Removing your heels quickly and abandoning your purse, you step towards him, ready to sit beside him until he demands, “No. Not there.” He pats his thigh with his free hand. “Here.”

Your body trembles with lust as you straddle him, pussy pulsing against his muscular thigh. He studies you, from your hazy stare down to him between your legs, savoring his cold liquor all the while. You gulp loudly, obediently waiting for his next command.

Gently removing the crown atop your head and tossing it aside, he asks, “What do you want from me, princess? It’s your birthday after all.” Hearing him call you princess gives you a rush you can no longer contain. You start moving on his thigh, riding it to feel the glorious sensations on your clit.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as you grasp at his collar to hold you steady. “This is what you want? Okay. Take what you need. Come on my thigh. I’ll watch.” His gravelly voice in your ear makes you ride him harder, grinding against him until your creamy mess is soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. You clench his tie, loosening it around his neck. He continues to watch you, sipping on his booze, enjoying his own private show.

Once the glass is empty except for the melting ice, he sets it down on the coffee table, pulling you in closer, his hand behind your neck. Lightly blowing cool, whiskey breath along your lips. You lean forward to kiss him, his tongue slipping past to explore your needy mouth. The longing for his touch on every inch of your body grows stronger by the second as you moan into the kiss, bouncing on his leg.

“Can you come by yourself? Or do you need my tongue on it? I can lick it up real good if you’ll let me.” His obscene suggestion surprises you, as if you weren’t already performing lewd acts on his lap. You tug at his tie to pull him into another fierce kiss before sitting next to him on the couch, lifting the hem of your dress up to reveal your wet undergarments.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. But I’m not calling you Daddy,” you tease, spreading wide for him.

His voice is low in his throat, kneeling on the carpet, face positioned between your thighs. “Good, because I prefer to be called Master.”

You roll your eyes at him, to which he responds, “What? You don’t like that? I bet I’ll have you screaming it all night long.”

This has you speechless as he drifts towards you, staring at the wet spot soaking through your lingerie. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He hooks his fingers around the fabric, stretching it to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Leaning in closer, he flicks his tongue gently onto your clit, causing you to squirm above him.

He’s testing the waters, starting slow to gauge your limit. It’s gentle at first, toying with your bud until it’s plump and sensitive. Until your wanton moans are bouncing off the walls of his big, fancy apartment. There’s no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s obvious this man has years of experience beyond you. Having this stranger swirl his tongue on the most intimate parts of your body makes you weak in the knees. This is the first time all night that you’re thankful to be turning thirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this apartment, getting wrecked and torn apart by him.

“I’ve always wanted a plaything I can ruin,” he breathes out, finally wrapping his lips around you. “Will you be my pretty plaything tonight?” He surrounds your clit, drawing an erotic whimper from your mouth.

“Fuck, Kishibe. Yes. Use me as your plaything, fuck.”

He eats you out noisily, emphasizing every wet sound his mouth makes on your swollen bud. Several times, he spits on it, spreading his saliva up and down your pussy, plunging his tongue into your entrance to get it lubricated with his own drool.

“You’re fucking drenched down here. When’s the last time you let a grown man eat you out like this? I bet you’ve never been with someone like me, huh?”

You shake your head, swiping through his hair, spreading yourself wider for him. “Never.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance. “So fucking wet for me. I love it.” He pumps into you, curling his digits just right, resonating all the way down to your toes. His lips latch onto your clit, drinking you up to quench his insatiable thirst.

“Hold these for me,” he says, guiding your fingers to your panties. “Want to stroke my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy out.” You hear the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of him shoving his fist into his slacks to jerk off. The vibrations from his moans tickle your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper into your arousal, practically drowning in it, flattening his tongue to smear his warm saliva all over. You whine in ecstasy, heedless of attracting any neighboring attention to your explicit blubbering.

“Come on my face,” he muffles, too busy lapping up your clit to pull away, fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny and sleek with your slick.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your orgasm, pleasure jolting through your body while he works you until you’re overstimulated, twitching from the euphoria. He laughs softly, face glistening with your essence, taking a seat beside you. You watch him in a daze as he sticks his cum-coated fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “You want a taste, too?”

You nod, disoriented from your intense climax. He drags your bottom lip down using the pad of his thumb, mumbling, “Open.”

Obediently, you stick your tongue out for him, knowing fully well what he’s about to do. Your pussy throbs again, ready to be fucked for real by this provocative stranger you were so fortunate to meet tonight.

He grazes your open tongue, then spits in your mouth. “Swallow,” he demands, voice husky with desire. You do, making sure to gulp loudly, incredibly aroused and needy for his cock.

“Show me,” he whispers, opening his own mouth to mimic you. “Ah.”

You show him your tongue again, a dumb expression on your face while he inspects. Satisfied, he grunts, “Fuck, you’re bad. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He reaches down to your soaked panties clinging to you. “Take these off.”

He slides out of his trousers, revealing briefs that barely conceal his obvious bulge. As you slip out of your underwear, he removes his, displaying his impressive cock. “You going to ride this cock now?”

Without a word, you nod. You’re already anticipating how fucking amazing he’s going to feel inside you. Your brain is jumbled with naughty thoughts of him taking you in all positions in every room of his apartment.

There’s a hungry gleam in his eyes as he watches you mount him. You hoist your dress up, stripping it from your body. He unclasps your bra, baring your breasts to him while he still wears his dress shirt and tie. For some reason, you want him to keep it on. Get it nice and dirty with slick and sweat.

You reach behind you to position him at your entrance. Once aligned, you slowly sink onto his cock, allowing yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size. Given his stature, it’s not surprising how big he is, both in length and girth. When you bottom out, he lets out a raspy fuck, holding your ass to squeeze your plush cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are, princess. Like I said, take what you need from me. Milk me dry. I know you want to.”

Spurred by his provocative encouragement, you ride him, rocking your hips back and forth onto his lap, gripping his cock tight with your wet cunt. Forehead pressed to his, lids closed, jaw hanging open, experiencing the best fuck of your life. With a brief glance, you catch him watching you, a similar dazed expression on his face. You bounce on him faster, his dick pounding into you over and over again, determined to feel every inch you possibly can.

“Fuck, Kishibe, feels so fucking good,” you moan, directing his fingers down to your clit. “I want to come all over this cock. Make me come, Master.”

Bingo. His eyes widen as soon as it slips from your mouth. It’s the magic word. The trigger.

Without hesitation, he brushes his thumb ruthlessly onto your swollen bud. “Say it again,” he demands, pressing it hard as he massages it, eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck, make me come, Master. Make me come.” You’re riding him so fucking good, couch creaking, clutching his shoulders tight, his carnal stare locked on your every movement.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls.

“I’m close, I’m close!”

Suddenly, he pulls out, cock covered in your arousal, wet and stiff against his abdomen. Strings of slick cling to the hem of his dress shirt. You’re about ready to yell at him for teasing you. Before you can, he stands up, grabbing your wrist to lead you into the bedroom. His breathing is heavy as he points to the bed, hastily removing his clothes. “On your knees, ass up. I’m going to fuck you so good. Make you squirt all over my fucking sheets.”

The anger immediately subsides and you’re back to being eager again, knowing damn well that he means every fucking word he says. You do as he commands, wiggling your ass to entice him. He chuckles behind you. “I’m sorry for denying you earlier. I just really want to see this ass bounce on my cock like this.” He teases you with his tip, tapping your clit, sliding it along your pussy lips.

“You’re not forgiven,” you pout, growing impatient.

Placing a soft kiss on your lower back, he laughs again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about this stranger you met mere hours ago, it’s that he is a man of his word.

He guides his cock into you slowly, stretching you little by little until you’re squeezing him, his entire length inside you. “Look at you, sucking me in again like you were made for me.” He starts thrusting, holding you steady to penetrate you deeper.

“So fucking good!” you cry out, fists bunched on his silky sheets, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“I know, princess. It’s amazing for me too.” His heavy balls slap your damp skin with every brutal thrust of his hips, fucking you hard, dipping into your sweet spot until you’re woozy with pleasure. “You take it so good. So fucking sexy.” He tightens his grip on you, increasing his pace. “So fucking beautiful.”

You throw your ass back, arching your spine to get the perfect angle. With your cheeks bouncing obscenely against his thighs, you beg, “Spank me, Master. Spank me like a bad girl.”

Not wasting a second, his rough palm connects with your ass, the loud smack ringing in your ears. He spanks you again and again, your pussy clenching him tighter while you continue to thrust back onto his cock. You’re about ready to burst, desperate to reach your second orgasm after being denied earlier. You play with your puffy clit, electricity rippling through your body upon contact. Whimpering, you rub your bud faster as he pounds into you, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he moans, staring at your ass jiggle after each fresh slap he delivers. “Come on my cock, princess. That’s it. Get it creamy. Just like that, fuck.”

Waves of pleasure sweep over you, the intensity of it causing you to tremble before him. In the midst of your climax, you plead for him to finish inside you, greedy for his cum. It doesn’t take long for him to fill you up, staying nestled deep in you as he releases his warm load, letting out a husky fuck.

He pulls out, his warm release leaking from your pussy, dripping onto his sheets. He ogles at the pornographic sight in front of him, pleased with himself.

“Like what you see?” you tease, lowering your torso and relaxing on the bed.

“You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says, collapsing beside you. “Can’t believe I let you seduce me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You were the one who offered to give me something good for my birthday.”

He raises a brow at you. “Did I succeed?”

You gaze at him, properly examining his appearance. Scruffy facial hair, eyes that are perpetually tired, the striking scar aligned with his frown. You find yourself wondering what his story is; someone this fetching must have a story.

“Considering the mess we made, I would say you exceeded my expectations.” You lay your palm on his firm chest, his now steady heartbeat lightly thumping against your fingertips.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t a disappointment.” He doesn’t take his gaze off you. Normally, you’d be intimidated by such intense eye contact. With him, it’s different. You feel safe. He places his hand on top of yours, rugged thumb gently caressing the skin of your knuckles. The two of you stay like this, enjoying each other’s presence in an easy silence.

“We can’t do this again,” he mutters, finally looking away from you. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, your hand still snug under his.

“Why not?” The shift in energy surprises you. This is not the typical pillow talk you’re accustomed too.

“I’ll keep wanting to see you if we keep this up,” he admits. Although it’s a sweet sentiment, he’s deciding to end it here and now, not even waiting until the morning like in a typical one-night-stand.

Matching his candid demeanor, you ask, “What’s wrong with wanting to see me again?” A strange feeling of unease swells in your chest, anxious for whatever truth he’s about to reveal.

He takes a breath before explaining, “I’m a Devil Hunter. The best in the world. My job is very dangerous. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.” He avoids you while he speaks, eyes laser focused on the ceiling, barely blinking. It’s as if he doesn’t want to say it; rather, it’s part of a script, forced to recite the lines like it’s standard procedure. How often has he had to deliver this sober spiel to his ex-lovers? You start to pity him, speculating how detached he must remain to the outside world strictly because of his risky profession.

You continue to stare at him, letting the information sink it. The air is thick with a serious tension. It’s a sudden switch from the wild romp you just experienced. Choosing not to pester him further, you decide to lighten the mood. You scoot towards him, mouth skimming his ear, muttering, “Well, l didn’t really like you anyways.” The cold metal of his piercings contrast the soft warmth of your lips.

He turns to you again, the tension in his brows easing slowly as he gives you a small smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on the forehead.

Sighing, you ask, “Can I at least spend the night?”

“Of course. I’ll even cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean a cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey and a couple cigarettes,” you joke.

He chuckles. “I’ll throw in some eggs for protein, does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever I can get, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.”

There’s a small smile on his lips as he gazes at you. A minute passes and he reaches for you, grazing your cheek delicately. You feel comfortable in bed with him. Protected. You snuggle into his chest, his arms wrapping you into a bear hug. Cozy in his embrace, you listen to his rhythmic breathing, lulling you to sleep.

~~~

In the morning, you wake up alone, tucked under the covers, clothed only in a dress shirt, barely buttoned. The bedroom door is wide open, the sound of a pan scraping on iron ringing in your ears and the inviting smell of food cooking wafting from the kitchen.

You spot a pack of baby wipes on the drawer next to you, noticing that your body is fresh and clean, opposite the sticky mess you fell asleep to. Next to it is a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. With these items in hand, you tip-toe into the bathroom, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

When you’re done, you study his bedroom for the first time, and probably last. There are no pictures hung anywhere, no personal touch to anything. Only small traces of a man whose entire existence is his job. Several ties scattered on his dresser next to a metal flask. A mini calendar on his nightstand with random scribblings of future work commitments. Hamper in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with white dress shirts, black slacks, and a couple of mismatched argyle socks. You’re slightly tempted to investigate some drawers to see the type of weapons a Devil Hunter of his caliber carries, but you don’t.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him in the kitchen. He’s in a plain white t-shirt with navy-blue pajama pants. As promised, he is cooking a batch of scrambled eggs over the stove, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other. Looking domestic and sexy as hell. His words replay in your mind. You shouldn’t get attached to someone like me. You almost regret sleeping with him, knowing you’ll miss him after you leave.

Quietly, you stroll towards him until he notices you. When he does, he takes a sip of coffee and mutters, “Morning, princess.”

Positioned behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, raising your heels to place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. It’s only now that you realize how much taller he is than you. “Good morning, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d cook you breakfast, didn’t I?” He cranes his neck to face you, smirking.

“You did. I’m pleased to see you keep your promise,” you tell him, resting your cheek on his back. “You’re truly a man of your word. I think that deserves a reward.” You slide your thumbs under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, teasing him.

“If you tempt me, you won’t be able to taste this delicious meal I prepared for you,” he comments, setting his coffee mug down the counter and turning off the burner. His hand covers yours, maneuvering it over the growing bulge in his pants.

“Maybe I’m craving something else for breakfast.” You start palming his erection, suddenly hungry for him rather than the food.

He turns to face you, looking at you up and down in his dress shirt, your legs clenched together to hide your arousal. Still smirking, he says, “You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.” He slowly pushes you against the counter, running his fingers up your inner thigh, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt.

You moan, anticipating another round of intense fucking, this time in his kitchen. It makes you want to christen every part of his apartment.

“How are you this fucking wet for me already?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb on your throbbing clit. “You’re so sexy, it’s driving me insane.”

“Kishibe,” you breath out, struggling to steady yourself. “Fuck.”

“I got you. Get on the counter for me, princess. Spread those legs so I can lick that pussy clean.”

With his hands on your waist guiding you, you hop up, opening wide for him. Knees bent and body folded forward, he starts licking your clit, palming his erection through his pants. You come within minutes, gushing over his tongue as it glides along your slit, nose digging firmly onto your swollen bud.

“Fuck me, Kishibe. Want that big cock inside me. Want you to fill me up again with your cum.” You hop back down, turning around and lifting the hem of the dress shirt past your ass, ready to get railed right there on the countertop.

“Not like this,” he murmurs, kissing you on the cheek. “Wait for me in my room. We’re going to have breakfast in bed together.”

Minutes later, a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon set on top is temporarily forgotten as the two of you fuck on the other side of the bed. Him sitting up, back pressed to the headboard, you riding him until he spills inside you, causing you to orgasm again all over him.

You slump forward, resting your head on his shoulder, tired and satiated from another amazing fuck. Attempting to slide off him, he kisses you on the lips, his grip firm on your waist, unyielding. “Keep my cock inside you. Can you do that for me?”

In your blissful state, all you can do is nod, getting comfortable on his lap. He reaches for a slice of bacon on the tray, letting you take the first bites before he finishes it, doing the same for a piece of buttered toast. He feeds you forkfuls of scrambled eggs, using the same utensil for himself. It’s pleasantly intimate for two people who just met. Playing the role of a long-term couple, indulging in simple delights together, like breakfast in bed.

Plate cleared, both your bellies full of nourishment, you stay in this position, kissing each other leisurely, no rush to separate. He whispers your name, fondling your breasts through the fabric of his dress shirt that you’ve made yours. He repeats it a few more times, relishing how it feels on his lips before he never has to utter it again.

It’s bittersweet, knowing it’s ending as soon as it begun. You have no reason to be so smitten with him. You’re two people who hardly know each other. Still, you find yourself not wanting to say goodbye yet. Something’s there. A tiny spark flickering in the distance. Maybe you’re one of many women he’s done this with before. Maybe you’re nothing special. But in this fleeting moment, you let yourself believe it’s real.

The two of you reluctantly part after an especially long, passionate kiss. You dismount him, grabbing the wipes to clean up the mess that was made earlier. He gives you a smooch on the forehead before getting out of bed to exit the room, returning in less than a minute to hand you your outfit from last night. You briefly recall carelessly discarding it all over his living room floor right before you pounced on him. Is it too soon to consider that a fond memory? It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re reminiscing about him already.

He leaves you alone in the bedroom to change. Before you undress, you bring the sleeves of the shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, memorizing his scent. You almost want to keep this shirt as proof that this happened. That Kishibe is real.

Back in your black dress, you sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his return. When he walks in, he points at the sash and tiara next to you on the bed. “You’re not going to wear that?”

Shrugging, you respond, “It’s no longer my birthday, so it feels silly wearing it. Just toss it.”

You check your phone, estimating the time of arrival for the ride you requested. Any minute now, they’ll be here, ending your short-lived tryst. He offers to drop you off, but you refuse, not bothering to explain that doing that will result in you dragging him into your own apartment and keeping him a willing hostage for another few hours. It’ll only make it more difficult to not get attached. He doesn’t question it, probably understanding this himself.

The ping from the app chimes through your phone. You stand up, smiling at him, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

He walks you to the door, waiting for you to strap on your heels. Once they’re on, you smile. “I guess this is it. Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. This was fun.” It could be wishful thinking, but you hear a waver in his voice. Is he a little bit sad too?

You face the door, ready to turn the knob, when you feel his grip on your wrist. He spins you towards him, kissing you feverishly, his hand caressing your cheek, the other behind your neck. Yearning for one more moment of intimacy with you. He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shut as he says goodbye with one last whisper of your name. You avoid his gaze as you exit, walking out of his life.

It’s better this way.

#kishibe #kishibe csm #chainsaw man #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe x y/n #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe brainrot #chainsaw man kishibe #dirty thirty

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word-wytch · 1 year

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 6

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 6/? 4.6k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Your 30th birthday is nothing like you imagined, but Eddie has a surprise for you.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: drinking, angst

It was quiet in the early morning of your 30th birthday. Still dark outside, as it always was when you rose from bed at 5:10 AM.

You looked in the mirror, at your face still puffy from sleep. The harsh light above your bathroom sink was bringing out the darkness from under your eyes. Leaning closer, you ran your fingers over your pores to feel for imperfections, noting how large some of them seemed to be, especially at this time of day. There were a few raised bumps too. You couldn’t believe you were still getting pimples at this age.

You brushed your teeth and washed your face. The cool water felt refreshing on your skin still warm from sleep. You rubbed on your favorite skin cream and blotted some concealer over the spots that needed it, blending it out with your finger. You then brushed on your eyeshadow, curled your eyelashes, and flicked your mascara wand over them, bringing your face to life more and more with each step.

Taking in your features, you looked at yourself for a long moment. Your eyes traced over the lines of your jaw, of your nose, and the shape of your eyes, all coming together to form you. A soft smile made the lines of your lips even plusher.

Timeless.

Assessing your hair, you styled it a bit differently today.

It was casual Friday, a concept which you always thought was kind of hokey but you would take any excuse to wear jeans for a change, something that felt a bit more like you and less like a costume. You had a pair specifically in mind for today — your favorite. The lightwash Levi’s that hugged you in all the right places.

You wondered for a moment if he’d notice. Shaking your head, you chastised yourself. Here you were, officially 30 years old, and you had spent the last four days thinking about a thumb. It was bold what he did in the parking lot on Monday, even for him. He’d been sending all sorts of signals for the past three weeks since you started tutoring him, but there was no mistaking this one.

Eddie Munson had a crush on you. If you had any doubts before, his thumb had squashed them.

It was a common thing for students to have crushes on their teachers. Common enough for Van Halen and The Police to write hit songs about it.

But Eddie Munson was 20 years old, and you had a crush on him too. A bigger one than you cared to admit to yourself. In any other context, this wouldn’t be a problem. In the context of your job, it was an enormous one. At the same time, it was hard to remember the last time you looked in the mirror and felt this way.

You wondered if he woke up in the morning and decided what to wear with you in mind. You wondered what he thought about as he watched you from the back of the classroom every day. Wondered what sort of scenarios the mind of a horny young man could conjure up on a daily basis, what he imagined doing with you, to you.

You shook your head again, feeling a twinge of guilt. What on Earth were you doing?

Then again, you couldn’t get in trouble for your thoughts. So long as you didn’t act on them.

You sighed and gave yourself one final look up and down in the mirror, turning to glance at every angle.

Timeless.

______

“Come on, come on.” You wanted to kick the Xerox machine. It hummed and sputtered, spitting out the top half of a paper, the bottom half crinkled in a jam, as if it had been hungry and thought the tests for your second period sophomore class were a tasty snack. It didn’t help that there was a line forming behind you.

You had been at work for all of ten minutes and it was already going south. Grabbing the paper, you yanked slowly, trying not to rip it as you un-jammed the machine.

“Hey happy birthday!” said Diane, waving a card in front of you with your name on it. “Off to a great start I see.”

You chuckled and took the card. “Yeah, I think it knows.”

“I hate this thing,” said Diane. “I don’t need to use it nearly as often as you do, I feel lucky for that.”

Tugging on the paper again, you slowly and steadily worked it out of the clutches of the machine. “There we go.”

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she said to the machine. “Give the girl a break, it’s her birthday for crying out loud.”

You chuckled and started the copy job again. “Ok, you better behave now. This is the last warning.” The machine whirred and beeped, thinking a moment before it began to spit out fresh, clean, uneaten copies of your test. “There you go, jeez.” You grabbed your card stepped off to the side running your finger under the top edge to rip the envelope. “Thanks, Diane.”

She smiled, “This one’s from the faculty, you’ll get mine later tonight,” she said with a little wink.

Opening the card, you took in the generic birthday wishes of your coworkers in different handwritings and inks. With a soft smile you tucked it into your leather grading binder.

You wished you could have said the day turned around after that, but the copy machine jam was only the beginning. A student got sick in your first period class and the room smelled for the three periods to follow, even after the janitor came.

There was a food fight during lunch period and you stepped in mashed potatoes as you exited the teacher’s lounge, tracking it all the way back to your classroom before you noticed. It was caked into the bottom of your boot and the tissues you had on your desk did a mediocre job at removing it from the crevices.

Your seventh period class might as well have been sleeping. The walls could have given better answers.

By the time the last bell of the day rang you felt like a frazzled mess. You should have just taken the day off.

You sighed and tidied up your desk, filing away papers and loading up your leather work satchel with folders to take home with you. That was when you heard a knock at the door.

Eddie Munson leaned against the doorframe, rapping his knuckles against it rhythmically.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hey Eddie,” you said, looking up from the mess on your desk.

Eddie walked over to you slowly, his dingy white Reeboks padding softly against the tile floor. “Happy birthday,” he said.

“Oh thank you,” you said with a breathless chuckle. “It’s been a pretty shitty one so far if I’m being honest.”

His strong brows furrowed. “Well, I hope I can make it better,” he said as he extended his hand to reveal two small boxes.

“Oh my god, you didn’t have to get me anything!” you said, coming around the front of your desk to meet him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took them from him. You turned them over in your hands. They were wrapped in newspaper — the funny section. Your heart swelled as you admired his handiwork before tucking a finger under the tape to break the wrapping.

“Sorry I’m shit at wrapping gifts.”

“Oh hush, you did great,” you reassured, tearing the wrapping off the first box. It was a Black Sabbath tape — Paranoid.

“I would have gotten you some artists I know you actually like but with these I knew that you didn’t have them already, so…”

“Oh my god, thank you! This is so sweet,” you tore the paper on the other one to reveal Metallica’s Ride the Lightning.

“I thought that these would be a good introduction to metal, since you said you really hadn’t heard much of it. The Black Sabbath one is their second album, you might recognize a couple songs actually. Dio sings for them now but I figured we’d get you started with the classics and work our way up,” he said with a wink, “And then the Metallica one also has some really good songs on it too.”

You smiled, big and broad. “Thank you so much, this is so thoughtful.” Your arms extended outward before you could even give it a second thought, still holding the tapes in your hand.

In your defense, you would have hugged anyone who surprised you with a gift on your birthday.

His eyes widened as he stepped toward you, bringing his arms around you without hesitation. Not diagonally as you might hug a friend or an acquaintance, but around your waist, guiding your arms over his shoulders. He held you tightly to him.

He wasn’t wearing a jacket or a vest, only his raglan Hellfire shirt since it was a Friday. You could feel him. Feel the shape of his body pressed to yours, of his back as you ran your free hand up and down it reflexively. Feel how solid his shoulders were with the other draped over them. You were worried he could feel your heart pounding through the thin cotton barrier.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, longer than you should have.

You relaxed into the hug and rested your head against his shoulder, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. His hair pressed against your cheek, softer than you had imagined. There was that scent again — you were enveloped in it. That warm, intoxicating combination of skin, smoke, and laundry detergent. You wished you could bottle it, spray it on everything.

You didn’t want to pull away. You knew you should but you just couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not for another few seconds that stretched on like a small eternity as you committed the touch to memory.

It was really the kind of hug that you get from a lover. The kind of hug that greets you as you step off of a plane. The sort of hug that molds to you, like two interlocking pieces. You felt him sigh.

His arms where strong and safe, one hand running up and down your back soothingly, the other wrapped tightly around the small of your waist. He pressed his cheek against your head.

Finally you gathered the strength to break away. His hands lingered at your waist as you did.

Eddie’s eyes caught yours as you separated, they were soft and heavy lidded. His irises were deep and warm like Dutch-processed chocolate. You could have devoured him whole.

You cleared your throat and tucked your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. For the gift.”

He swallowed and nodded, “Sure. Give them a listen and let me know what you think.” He swung his hands back and forth, bringing them together in front of his body. “You uh, doing anything fun later?”

“Oh, not anything big or fancy, just gonna go to Pal Joey’s with a few friends.”

He smiled softly, “Sounds like a good time.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good,” you said, turning back toward your desk to finish packing up your things.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more but refrained. “Well, I should probably get going. The guys are all waiting on me, so…”

“Have fun, give ‘em hell,” you said with a little wink as you gathered your papers.

“Oh I will,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave. He paused for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said softly. “For everything.”

______

The grey sky hung heavy above the parking lot outside Pal Joey’s as the sun began to set. From your dashboard you could see the warm glow inside the restaurant through the large front window. You watched as the bartender served the two patrons at the bar while Black Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral” rang out full force in the speakers of your small sedan.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. Thought about him listening to this same song, only twice as loud and cruising down a dark road at 80 miles an hour. Thought about him at a concert, in a mosh pit, swaying and bobbing with the crowd. There was a quality about metal that swept you up in it. It was fast and driving, loud and heavy. It was alive and full of energy — much like he was.

You thought about Eddie Munson on a stage. Thought about his quick fingers on the fretboard, how his long mop of hair would shake as he bobbed his head with every strum. You wondered if he sang at all, what his bright voice sounded like in song. You thought about him singing to you — to only you. Thought about him sitting on the couch in your livingroom, an acoustic guitar across his lap, singing your favorite song.

You thought about how good it felt to be in his arms. How safe you felt in them. There was a part of you that felt guilty about it, greedy about it, but you really would have hugged anyone who surprised you with a gift, student or not. It’s not that it wasn’t allowed either. There were plenty of students of yours in the past who had given you a hug. Some as a farewell on the last day of school. Others who really needed it. It was different with him though, and you knew it. But you had an excuse and the too human part of you that growled in the pit of your stomach wanted to know what it felt like.

There was a shadow in your window that startled you. You turned to lock eyes with the blonde as she waved excitedly.

“Janet! Hey!” you said, flicking the key to your car to turn it off. You dropped it into your purse and hastily opened the door.

“Happy birthday!” she said as you got out of the car. You could smell her hairspray when she hugged you. “Oh my god, look at you,” she said, taking a step back to admire, “You look amazing.”

“Well thank you, so do you.”

Janet sighed. “Thanks for being so nice. I’m just going to pretend like this wasn’t the second outfit I picked out after the baby got sick on my first one.”

“No, I mean it. You do look nice!” and she did. The perm was new, not new since you saw her over the summer, but new since you knew her in high school. It had been longer back then, long enough to braid at sleepovers.

Janet gave a weary smile, “Well thanks, I’ll take it.” She folded her arms, a curious look playing on her face, “So, you listen to Black Sabbath now?”

“What? No — I mean yes. Um, I guess now I do,” you said with a flustered laugh, “One of my students got me a few tapes for my birthday, he’s into metal so he wanted to give me an intro to the genre.”

Janet chuckled, “How thoughtful.”

It was hard to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. “Yeah, it is. I really like it so far actually.”

“I feel like all I listen to anymore is the Muppet Babies theme song. I’d take just about anything over that at this point.”

You heard quick footsteps against the pavement and turned to see Diane hustling up to you with a cake in a tupperware container. “Sorry I’m late, I had to take the dog out before I left,” she turned to you, “Happy birthday, again,” she said with a little chuckle, then turned to Janet, extending her free hand. “Hi, I’m Diane!”

She shook her hand, “Janet,” she said. “I think I remember you actually, from debate team? You were a few years ahead of me.”

Diane blinked, jogging her memory, “Oh! Yes, wait a minute, Janet… Johnson right?”

“It’s Peters now, but yes.”

“God, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Happy to be out of the house,” she said with a chuckle. “Let’s grab a seat, we can catch up inside.”

Pal Joey’s was one of those places that never seemed to change. It was like stepping back in time to your summers home from college. They still had the same colored glass light fixtures above the bar. Same old metal beer signs plastered haphazardly along the walls. Same red, threadbare carpet by the pool table in the other room. It still smelled like cigarettes, even in the non-smoking section by the front bar where you were directed by the hostess to sit.

You scooted yourself along the vinyl booth bench after Janet, brushing away the hardened French fry crumbs and gritty salt granules as you followed her. Diane sat on the other side.

You stared down at the smeared laminated menu. The food hadn’t changed either. It was your typical bar food selection of hot wings and burgers, one in particular called The Beast which there was a contest surrounding.

You weren’t exactly sure what had imagined your 30th birthday being like, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t here.

“Can I get you ladies started with something to drink?” the hostess asked.

“I’ll have a margarita,” said Diane, “Oh, and hers is on me tonight,” she said gesturing to you.

“Oh thank you, you’re the sweetest. I’ll have the same.”

“Make that three,” said Janet. “Oh, and water!”

“Alright we’ll have those right out for you,” said hostess as she scribbled on her notepad and walked away.

You thought about your friends back in Indianapolis. You wondered what they were doing tonight and if they remembered. You wondered if he remembered.

“I’ve got some pictures to show you, before I forget,” said Janet, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a handful of photographs and laid them out on the table.

You and Diane leaned in to look at them.

“Ok so this is Michael on his third birthday this summer.”

The little boy was towhead blonde, his hair almost white. Pizza sauce had stained his face orange around his toothy little smile. He was sitting in a high chair with Janet behind him, both their faces glowing in the soft light of the birthday candles. You could see the joy reflected in her eyes.

You glanced up at Diane, you could see the ache reflected in hers. You wondered if you were to hold up a mirror to yourself if your face would look the same way. A strange, soft sadness playing on your lips. A gentle longing in your eyes for something that may never come to be.

“He’s adorable,” Diane said softly.

Janet slid another photo to the center of the table. “This is one of Sarah from a few months ago, she’s eighteen months now, which I can hardly believe,” Janet said with a chuckle, “It feels like she was just born yesterday.”

“She already looks just like you,” you said thoughtfully, “I mean I know she’s just a baby but I can already see it.”

You thought about the wedding you were supposed to have next spring. Thought about the photos that she would surely have by then.

The waitress approached the table with a tray of drinks and that you had never been so happy to see in your entire life. She took your order, just a classic burger and fries. Diane got the mushroom and swiss burger, and Janet got an order of chicken wings and a side salad.

Janet raised her margarita, “To you, my dear. May your thirties be your best decade yet.”

The three of you clinked your salt rimmed glasses together and a smile found its way back onto your face. You hoped she was right.

You took a generous sip of your drink. It went down easy. The lime was refreshing and the salt woke up your taste buds.

“So,” Janet started, turning to you, “Are you still writing? You were always so creative in school.”

“Oh, not much anymore. I guess I just haven’t been feeling that creative lately. Not really in the past few years actually,” you said. “I’m still a big reader though. You should have seen my dad trying to help with all the boxes this summer. He swore they were full of bricks and not books,” you said with a little chuckle.

“Well, maybe you’ll pick it up again someday,” said Diane. “You’ve been through a lot, give yourself some grace.”

“You’re right, thank you,” you said, giving Diane a gracious look.

“How are your parents, by the way?” asked Janet.

“Oh they’re fine, my dad keeps talking about wanting to retire but I don’t think he’s quite there yet, and my mom, well, she’s my mom. You know how she is.”

Janet laughed, “Yes, I do.”

“That was one thing about living in Indianapolis, at least I got some space, you know?”

There was a loud clanking that rang out from the pool table in the other room, causing you to glance over for a moment.

That’s when you saw it, the mop of wavy brown hair swooshing as the one who made the noise stood upright after taking their shot. You couldn’t even see their body over the booths in front of you, only the back of their head, but your heart rate kicked in full force at the site of them. At the possibility.

Is that?

Only when they turned around did you realize it was a woman.

You took a deep exhale, trying to steady your racing pulse.

You felt like a fool. What were you doing?

Here you were, officially 30 years old, pining for a guy who wasn’t even old enough to have a drink at the bar you were at. A guy who also happened to be your student.

You took another generous sip of your margarita and looked down at the table, thumbing at the dull rubber rim. A numbing buzz washed over you.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but May wasn’t that far away, when you really thought about it. What if you waited and he asked you out after he graduated? He seemed really interested. It wasn’t an impossible scenario.

Janet and Diane carried on the conversation, talking about their parents.

You tried your best to tune in, but all you could think about was Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson who looks at you like he’s going to kiss you, who leans in too closely, who touches your hand because he can’t help it and flashes you signals with his in the parking lot. Eddie Munson who was gentle and kind and would hurt somebody — for you.

Eddie Munson who said you were timeless.

You wondered if he would still mean it by May.

You downed the rest of your drink and set the glass on the table. Only the ice remained.

“Woo, that’s the spirit!” cheered Janet. “Next one’s on me,” she said, giving Diane a wink.

You offered a weak smile. “Thanks, you guys are so sweet.”

You were thankful when the food arrived. It gave you something to do with your mouth other than talk. Something to focus on other than your blaring thoughts.

All three of you were quiet while you ate. You could tell that your friends were equally as hungry, probably wrestling with thoughts of their own.

You sat back and sighed after you ate as much as you could manage of your burger and fries.

“Save some room for cake,” said Diane with a wink.

You gave her a wide-eyed look and the three of you laughed.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot to ask,” started Diane, “How did that dinner go with your mom and that guy?”

“So awkward that my mom didn’t arrange another one,” you said, laughing probably way too loud.

“Yikes.”

“I don’t miss that part about being single,” said Janet.

Diane swished the liquid around in her glass. “I’ll tell you what, I’d be pretty lonely if it weren’t for Remi. He keeps me busy and gets me some fresh air during our walks twice a day.”

“Maybe I ought to start thinking about getting a pet,” you said, running your finger along the wet condensation on your glass.

“There are some perks to singlehood that I miss. You don’t have to answer to anybody, well, except Remi I guess,” said Janet with a little chuckle.

“Trust me, whoever I end up with won’t be expecting me to answer to them,” said Diane, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh you know what I mean, like have to come home and do things for people who can’t do anything for themselves, husband included sometimes,” she said with a snort, “I love my family to death but it can be so exhausting.”

Diane nodded, “Your feelings are valid,” said the therapist in her. Though you could tell there were other feelings under the veil of her mature response.

The three of you sat and enjoyed your drinks and each others company for a while longer while you processed dinner.

Then came the inevitable song. You knew it was coming when three other servers and the bartender showed up at your table. You braced yourself, smiling awkwardly while your friends howled the familiar tune, the margaritas amplifying their voices.

The cake was beautiful, Diane had really outdone herself. It was a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles on top.

You stared into the glowing candles as they wavered in the air and took a deep breath. Though it seemed childish and unrealistic, like asking for a pony, you knew what you wanted to wish for. You blew out the candles and let the quiet whispers of your heart sing for just one moment, the smoke writing cursive in the air, like a silent prayer wafting toward heaven as it rose.

There was clapping and cheering from the waitstaff and your friends around you.

It wasn’t until after you had taken your first bite of that delicious cake that your server approached you with another drink.

“From the man over there,” she said, gesturing to a young man in a suit with closely cropped hair seated at the bar. “For your birthday.”

He glanced back at you for a moment and you locked eyes with him, feeling your stomach start to turn. You gave him a weak little smile and glanced away quickly, your face turning as red as your cake.

Diane and Janet looked at each other, their mouths gaping in excitement. You wanted to evaporate.

“Go talk to him,” Janet whispered excitedly.

“If you don’t, I will,” snickered Diane.

It might have been partially the alcohol but you were starting to feel dizzy. “Oh, I don’t know. Go for it, Diane.”

She gave you a deadpan look. “Come on, I mean he bought you the drink after all.”

“I just… I don’t really know if he’s my type, you know?”

“What is your type?” asked Diane curiously.

“Yeah, I always thought it was brooding intellectuals,” Janet said with a laugh.

Apparently it was metalheads with long hair and loud vans, but you weren’t going to admit that out loud. Especially not in front of your coworker.

“I guess it just depends on the person. It’s never been guys in suits though.”

You stared down at your fresh drink sitting on its pristine napkin and wondered how wise it was to place your heart in such reckless hands.

After all, time moves quickly for young men.

You of all people would know it.

______

A/N: Woof, am I right? We are beginning to ascend the angst portion of this roller coaster and it’s going up and up for the next handful of chapters so strap in. Next chapter is from Eddie’s perspective *rubs hands together*

Once again thanking all of you for your continued support and enthusiasm. It keeps me going every week to see your excitement and reactions so keep them coming, please! I love interacting with you guys, it makes me feel like we’re all on this journey together.

Your reblogs help this story reach a larger audience and mean so much to me! Thank you 🧡

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @msgexymunson @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @maximizedrhythms @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddiemunson011 @trashmouth-richie @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @edsforehead @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @chainsawmunson @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @newlips @munsins @mantorokk-writes @sllooney

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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robo-milky · 29 days

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“Hey, Carrots!

No need to look so offended, I’m not here to cause any trouble, you know~. No favors to ask of either. It’s your special day, isn’t it? It is! So I came by to give you a present.

…Yeah, okay, it’s not really much, but it’s a gift nonetheless. Coupon for a special pop for the birthday girl~. You have a favorite flavor or something? I’ll try making it into a pop for you. A dozen for free! I’m real kind, I know.

Oh, and before I forgot. You know Ashi, don’t you? Poor girl couldn’t make it today, so she asked me to hand you a gift bag in her stead. Proves my trustworthiness, doesn’t it? Heh.

No need to worry, I didn’t peek at it… Hold some higher standards for me, would you?”

Niko hands over the bag. It’s a cute, pink, petite bag with cat decorations on it. It holds some resemblance to the feline holding it herself.

Grabbing what’s inside, there’s a little drawing with a note attached. It’s written with words and symbols that seem impossible to verbalize, but somehow it’s easy to imagine a certain brunette bringing life to them…

Clochey! HBD fam!~ Super bummed I couldn’t make it, but I hope this prezzie has enough of my energy baked into it that it feels like I’m there! LMK ASAP ☆

I wanted to send you a cute lil’ message ‘cuz I’m real thankful for us being friends, YK? Even tho we aren’t super buddy buddy, I still totally enjoy your company. Eppy tells me enough about you that it basically feels like I’m hanging with you myself!

Anyway~ I wanted to gift smth more personalized for you, so I drew up a little drawing! It’s kinda like a postcard, but I tried putting one of your fave things on it ♡ I hope you enjoy!~

We should SO get talkin’ again soonsies! Wishin you a happy birthday and many more with a certain huntsman <3

Sincerely, Ashi ♪

Cloche hears a chuckle after she’s done reading the note.

“Wow, Carrots, your face is a little red… Wonder what Ashi stirred up for you to get you, the cold clawed kitty to get lookin’ like that. Well, privacy is privacy. Guess that’s my cue to leave.

Here’s hoping you catch a break from all the trouble around campus, hm? Enjoy your day~.”

HAPPY BDAY CHRIS!!!!!!! I HOPE YOUR DAY AND WEEK AND TBH MONTH IS SO BANGER. ITS SO DESERVED!!!!!!! 🫶 it’s been SO nice being your moot for like?? WHAT??? TWO YEARS OR SMTH??? TIME IS SO CRAZY. it’s been such a treat being able to interact n talk w you since the beginning!!! I GET SUPER HAPPY WHENEVER I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS <333 HBD again and I hope life treats you well!!!!! 🙏 blessing your pulls and turning them into pomepulls……….. tehepero

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash] *them referring to our dear freshmen

Okay first of all… ASHIIIIIII YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME I SWEAR !!! THE FACT THAT YOU SENT THIS SO EARLY??!?! THE INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING! I JUST LOVE HOW THIS PLAYS OUT SO NATURALLY- Fr, Niko just waltzing into Ramshackle then dipping- aND THE GORGEOUS GORGEOUS ROOKLOCHE ART- LITERALLY SCREAMING OVER THE POSE AND DETAILS- YOU SERIOUSLY OUT DID YOURSELF FOR THIS ONE! Rook carrying her and Cloche grabbing on to him to get closer- SAVANACLAW ROOK MY BELOVED- Muscle man frrrr- Ashi really caught on to the cat maid’s staring during Chapter 7 huh. AND THE DOODLES ON RHE SIDES ARE TOO CUTE- 😩

Epel yapping on about Cloche and totally not suspiciously asking Ashi about her roommate- Ashi internally sweating bullets when Epel doesn’t realize that everything he describes is the cat maid making up excuses to avoid him-

Also take this… Cloche walking up to Niko days later and asking for a bone marrow pop, and it takes Niko a few seconds to realize it was a joke 😭😭 Slow burn friendship trust-

Really, it’s so wild that it’s been 2 years- So glad to have you here and to celebrate with you again !! I think you really blessed my pome pulls with this one- seriously- man came on the 30th pull twice- Ilyyyyy If makes me super happy to see you in my notifs as well and may we continue to interact in the future!

#crying sobbing thank you #cloche’ birthday bash 🎊#oc: cloche🎊#mutuals 🎊#rookloche #cat scratches 🌸#niko cimarron #ashi tamadai #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst ocs #others ocs #twst yuu #twst yuusona #oc interactions #mutuals art

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yarrystyleeza · 4 months

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𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

Well, as the title suggests, I am turning 22 on January 30th (yes I can't believe it either), and it's a very very special number to me, I was obsessed with it since I was a kid—because of Taylor Swift's 22 of course (you have no idea how happy my inner child is now!).

However, I thought I should celebrate this very important event with you by hosting my second sleepover! (honestly I was planning to make this a double sleepover if I hit 300 followers before my birthday, but since I didn't, I really had to host a sleepover)

As usual, my sleepover will host games, questions, asks, and definitely, requests!!! <3

The sleepover will be a week long, from January 30th till February 6th, where you can submit asks and requests!

Note on prohibited things that I won't be doing or answering:

No nsfw/dirty asks, writing requests or questions, it's uncomfortable for me sometimes, and this is an all-ages-friendly celebration. No further elaboration, please respect this. <3

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬:

Here's a list of the games we can play:

Kiss/Marry/Kill: you give me three characters and I will sort each one in one of these categories! (make it hard for me)

Would you rather: you give me two things/characters and I get to choose one that suits me better! (for example: night owl or early bird?)

Make an assumption: you literally make an assumption about me and I either prove it or deny it!

Never have I ever: you ask me about things I did or didn't do!

Exchanged Ships: basically, you give me a character that you find as my significant other, and I will give you a character in exchange and why I think it's the perfect character for you!

Random Q&A: you can ask me about anything, whether it's my favorite food or even what fabrics do I prefer to wear, ask whatever you want!

Girly Talks: just talk to me about any girly topic you want and we'll establish a good conversation! Let's talk about books or authors, favorite poetry pieces, maybe movies we loved in our childhood, or even your favorite outfits back when you were a 10 year old! Literally anything!

Rate My Music Taste: give me a song/artist and I will rate it from 1 (absolute flop) to 10 (total banger)! — (this is absolutely done just for fun).

I Wanna Write You A Song: start with a phrase and we will make a totally original song together in the reblogs!

Doodles: give me something simple to draw!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬:

As for writing requests, I will be taking fluff/angst/violence (blood and gore—due to the nature of the characters I write for) x female!reader requests only. But of course you can request the prompt you desire. <3

As for the characters, here's a list of the fictional men that I would be writing for:

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Foggy Nelson

Tristan Thorn

Michael Kinsella

Henry (from Eat Locals)

Daryl Dixon

(might consider writing for other Charlie Cox/Norman Reedus characters. example: Ian Hamilton, Owen Sleater, Scud, Murphy MacManus, etc.)

You can ask for prompt included in this list or ones you come up with yourself:

intimate moments / gestures that make me feel love / romantic rainy day prompts / gentle things that make me fall harder in love / fluffy comforting/sick dialogue prompts / lighthearted first kiss prompts / sparring prompts / forced proximity prompts / date prompts masterpost /

Note that I will be tagging the fic requests with #yuna's 22 birthday sleepover so they're easy to find, but they will be sorted in my main masterlist as regular requests! <3

tagging my moots to spread the word sorry for being a little too annoying hehe (and I tried to tag as much as possible but my memory is messing around with me I'm sorry if I forgot anyone): @v4leoftears @remonemo @fizanotfeeza @bunmurdock @bellaxgiornata @kal-0n @1988-fiend @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @floral-charlie-cat @farfromstrange @babygirlmurdock @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @c-mrdck @xxeycisxx @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mindidjarin @little-miss-dilf-lover @shiorimakibawrites @tongueofcat @marytheweefrenchie @chvoswxtch @devilsmurdock @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @acharliecoxedfan @folkloreandfall @murdocklorian @munsonownsmyass @abbyhaslongshorts @murc0ck @lazyxsquirrel @theradioactivespidergwen @xxdrixx @saintmurd0ck @softasawhisper @she-likesorchids @peterman-spideyparker @mattmurdocksstarlight @amberlynnmurdock @courtforshort15 @saltedlays @importantnightwerewolf @lene-loki

That's basically everything I have for my birthday sleepover, feel free to submit requests and games! Thank you for coming to my sleepover tonight! <3

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argonblue · 1 month

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I nearly forgot abt their birthdays so I guess this is my joint contribution! Happy (late/early) birthday, twin jewels!

Funnily enough my birthday is also on the 30th, so let’s call this an early birthday present for myself, too.

#ferdibert #fe3h #fe3h fanart #ferdinand fe3h #ferdinand von aegir #hubert fe3h #hubert von vestra #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses fanart #watercolor

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yanderecrazysie · 10 days

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AOYAMA YUUGA YANDERE PROFILE

May 30th is Aoyama’s birthday, so I thought I’d do his profile for him. It’s a bit more light-hearted and evidence-filled than usual, but whatever.

AOYAMA YUUGA YANDERE PROFILE

Warnings: yandere themes

Aware, Delusional, or Denialistic?

Is he aware of what he is doing or is he delusional/in denial?

Let’s be honest: Aoyama seems to realize he’s in a manga/anime with the way he looks right at the viewer, so he’s definitely aware that he’s a yandere and probably even that he’s in a story or yandere profile (half-joking).

But yes, Aoyama is aware that what he’s doing is obsessive and wrong. He doesn’t mind doing creepy things (as we’ve seen with the cheese incident) or crossing boundaries. HOWEVER, he has his delusional moments.

He may believe that you care more about him than you really do. He’s frequently seen talking to students that flat-out don’t care or, early on in the series, don’t even know who he is. That delusion bleeds through his awareness sometimes.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Obsessive or Possessive?

Does he care more about you or about owning you?

Aoyama is a romantic at heart, as French is the language of love. He believes in treating you right, loving you with every inch of his soul, and making you happy. He has no interest in treating you like a possession.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Behavior Analysis:

How does he generally behave around you?

Aoyama is more flirtatious than you might expect, but not overtly so. For example, he might give you a rose or compliment you in French, but he’s not going to make you feel like he walked up to you at a bar. In general, he’s just really friendly, and smiles at you a lot. He’ll try to insert himself into your conversations and interactions, to the point that it may get a little disconcerting.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Utilize or Avoid kidnapping?

Does he prefer kidnapping you or does he prefer finding other methods to obtain you?

Aoyama would much rather have a normal relationship. He’s aware he’s the odd one out in the class, and he’s made mistakes, but he hopes you can look past that and see him for who he is. If all else fails, he’s conceded long ago that kidnapping might be the best option.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spiral Analysis:

Does he spiral out of control quickly or is he able to hold on to his humanity for a long time before he snaps?

Aoyama falls hard and fast and isn’t afraid to cross boundaries. He doesn’t exactly snap, but he pushes the limit several times before giving in to his darker desires.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Restrain, Threaten, or Barricade?

Does he resort to restraining you, threatening you, or locking down the building/room to keep you kidnapped?

Aoyama locks down the building, as he can’t bear to see you restrained. He’ll resort to that if necessary, but he avoids anything that might hurt you at all costs. After all, ropes burn and chains chafe.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Escape Attempt Analysis:

How he would react to a successful or failed escape attempt.

Aoyama is the crybaby type. He would absolutely break down, begging to know why and bawling his eyes out. He has had to deal with so much in his life, and now he has your hatred to battle? He’s heartbroken that you hate him so much that you’d stab him in the back running away like that.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Manipulate or Overpower?

How easy would it be to overpower or manipulate him in order to escape?

Aoyama isn’t exactly a genius, but he’s not entirely stupid either. Socially awkward, yes, but he isn’t too bad at manipulation, seeing what he said to Uraraka during the exam. Manipulating his delusional side is what you want to aim for. Lean into that, let him believe that you love him back and his guard will fall.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lenient or Strict?

How long is the chain (metaphorical or not) that he keeps you on?

Aoyama wants to give you free reign as much as possible and does not create rules, although he may baby you a little at times. He’d make sure you’re eating and drinking properly, but other than that, you aren’t too restricted.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rule and Punishment Analysis:

What kind of rules he has and what punishments you receive for breaking them.

Aoyama does not have rules, except to make you keep yourself healthy and alive. Don’t eat? He’ll force you to inhale a block of cheese. But kick and scream and call him names? He’ll just feel bad.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rival Elimination Analysis:

How he deals with rivals and potential elimination methods.

Aoyama does not deal with rivals very much. He inserts himself in your conversations with them and tries to steal your attention but, if a rival was to win, he’d resort to kidnapping you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anger Analysis:

How easily he angers, how that anger looks, and how to calm him down.

Aoyama doesn’t really get mad. He gets frustrated, sure. He cries, a lot. But angry? Not really. If he was to get angry, appealing to his delusions would help calm him down.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Above, Beneath, or Equal?

How does he view you: as something to worship, to own, or just as another human being?

Aoyama sees you as above him, but he’s not a worshiper. He treats you like the special, precious human being you are to him, nothing more, nothing less.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Requite or Reject?

How does he react to you accepting or rejecting his love?

Acceptance is Aoyama’s main goal. If he achieves that, he will be very happy. I think a relationship with him would be a little unsettling at times, but overall a non-toxic one. He just might know a lot of things about you that you didn’t tell him.

Rejecting will probably lead to kidnapping. However, at the time of rejection, you’d never know that. He takes it with a smile and an “I understand”.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Determination Analysis:

The level of determination to get you to requite or accept his feelings.

Aoyama is very determined, but he does his best not to be overbearing, too flirtatious, or come across as over eager. He’ll keep trying until you reject him, and then he’ll resort to kidnapping. The natural next step, of course.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere profile #yandere aoyama #aoyama yuuga

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