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xiaowhore · 5 months

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intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fic #fluff #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x you #it doesn't happen immediately but you do get together eventually #your ex sees you with your new man so he realizes who really won that breakup

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moonstruckme · 24 days

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Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow.

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin.

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration.

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time.

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.”

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.”

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.”

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.”

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings.

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again.

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking.

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion.

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him.

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?”

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.”

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him.

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively.

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs.

You hum. “Why?”

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.”

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?”

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look.

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks.

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.”

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.”

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?”

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later.

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself.

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.”

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it.

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.”

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.”

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?”

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.”

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repulsiveliquidation · 21 days

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We Might As Well Try || Jessie Fleming

summary : you're pretty sure if you tried hard enough, Jessie could somehow put a baby in you. With scientific testing, of course.

warnings : smut. strap on's, fingering, cunnilingus. breeding kink.

“Jessie, look!” you whine, walking past some baby clothes. You turned to see Jessie smiling softly as you picked up the smallest pair of Air Force One’s you’d ever seen.

“Aren’t they the cutest thing?” you sigh, putting them back carefully.

“Not as cute as you, angel,” Jessie said under her breath which you heard, sending a deep blush up your cheeks in the middle of JD. Your fingers grazed all the tiny onesies and little jumpers in the baby section of the store, Jessie following behind you secretly taking a picture of all the pieces you liked.

“I want a baby so bad,” you sighed as you slipped into the passenger seat of her car. You were pouting, sadly putting your seatbelt on.

Jessie on the other hand felt like she was about to combust on the spot. Her heart was racing and her ears were ringing. She felt her hands get clammy and her mind struggling to focus on how to get you home safely without jumping you in the backseat of her car.

You were going on and on about your little nephew who was just about to turn 6 months old. Your sister had just gone back to work permanently and you were more than happy to babysit when she needed since you worked from home.

Every time Jessie came home after training and was met by a mess of toys in her living room and her favorite person playing with her favorite person’s favorite person (she took no offence to not holding the title herself, admitting she was jealous of a baby was “apparently childish,”) she felt her heart almost give out at the thought of the scene in front of her with a child of her own. A little girl that had your eyes or a little boy that had her smile was something she wished she could make happen ASAP.

Jessie sits in the driver’s seat, pondering deeply about how she was going to go about this. She didn’t want to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable. She wanted what she knew you wanted too but her shy nature was holding her back.

Her worrying came to a screeching halt when the next day she saw you holding your nephew in your arms so close. She physically felt her ovaries burst inside of her. She felt her heart erupt in pure affection for you. It was like she was high on drugs.

Later that night in bed, she turned over and gently took the book in your hands away from you. You were about to grumble at her when you looked at her face and saw that she was nervous. Uh oh. That’s not good.

“What is it, Jess?” you asked cautiously, turning over to get more comfortable under the sheets.

“Today, seeing you with Micah,” she pauses, biting her lip.

“Yeah?”

“Iwantababywithyoubutialsowanttoputitinyouandiknowthat’snotpossiblebutwhatharmisthereintrying?”

“You wanna try that again but slow?” you tell her sarcastically, with raised eyebrows.

“I want a baby with you, but I also want to put it in you and I know that’s not possible but what harm is there in trying?” Jessie said in one breath, panting by the end of it.

“Excuse me?”

“Wait, you don’t want kids?” Jessie exclaims, sitting up in bed suddenly. Her face changes and she starts to turn red from embarrassment.

“What, no! Of course I do! It’s just,” you pause, thinking about her ringing request in your head, “that last bit…I think it’s possible.”

It’s Jessie’s turn to raise her eyebrows and look at you like you’ve got three heads and a peanut for a brain.

“That’s not possible.”

“I think it is.”

“I don’t have a dick.”

“You’ve got a plastic dick. It’s in the name, Jessie.”

“Still not possible.”

“I just think people haven’t been trying hard enough.”

“You’re insane.”

“And I want a baby,” you tell Jessie, scooting closer to her, lips pressed right on her ear.

“I want your baby. One you put in me.”

Jessie Fleming was very sure that she had just passed away. Her heart stopped and her brain short-circuited the moment the words left your mouth. She felt her hands move on their own accord, grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of her.

You gasped, settling on top of her with just a nightgown on. Her hands caressed your hips. Her eyes focused on your breasts. Her mind was in the gutter and she could not give a fuck.

“Fuck, her child-bearing hips,” she thought, hands grasping them.

“Those full fucking breasts,” she moaned audibly, biting her bottom lip. You had an idea of her thoughts, grinding gently down on her middle. You were sure if she did have a dick that worked, it would be poking you. But the idea that she had hers on her bedside table, ready to go, for hours and hours on end was far more exciting. Plus it had a person on the other end who wanted to make you feel good and cared more about your pleasure than theirs.

Now that Jessie had her thoughts collected, she threw you off her and pinned you down, hands holding your wrists above your head. She kissed all along your nape and suckled long on your neck, which left your legs trembling and pussy throbbing.

“I think we might as well try to put a baby in you, shall we? Could be important you know, for science or some shit.”

“…For science?”

“Yes. Now are we going to try or not?”

Jessie’s fingers slipped between your legs, cupping your core gently. She smiled, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. Three of her fingers slowly rubbed wide circles, lips kissing along your nape over the marks she was leaving.

“Do you want me to put a baby in you, sweetheart?”

A deep shiver goes straight down your spine. You’ve never been so turned on in your life, you have to hold yourself back from cumming right then and there.

“Yes, please.”

“Remembered your manners, such a good girl already.”

She gently slipped off the bed, eyes locked into yours. She smiled, rummaging in the bedside table for her harness. You watched eagerly as she slipped it on and pulled out your favorite toy. You grinned and played with your breasts softly, kneading them in your hands and feeling your nipples harden. They poked through your baby blue gown, sensitive as you flicked your finger over them through the fabric.

Jessie’s eyes darken as she looks at you. You bite your lip and turn over, pressing your ass high up. She groans and watches the fabric fall smoothly over your hips. Feeling her eyes on you, you wiggle your way out of your ruined panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

Jessie��s hands pull your hips close to the edge of the bed, yanking your knees wide open and your pussy exposed. Two fingers slip straight into your wet hole, aimlessly jabbing themselves into you. Your whines muffle into the mattress, Jessie’s fingers curling down into your sweet spot with every alternate push of her fingers. Her tongue slips in to suckle at your clit, feeling it throb on the muscle.

“Is this the pussy I’m gonna fill with a baby, baby?” Jessie coos, caressing your ass softly. You whine, feeling her fingers fill you till the webbing. They feel full, knuckles dragging against the ridges inside you.

“Yes, p-put a baby in me please!”

“It would be my pleasure,” Jessie smirks, pulling her fingers out and slipping her cock straight into you. It’s thick and deep, filling you in ways her fingers could only dream of.

Jessie threw her brown hair back and grinned, hips thrusting hard and fast into your pussy. There were squelching and slapping sounds that reverberated around the room, turning you both on immensely.

She doesn’t seem to slow down, hips pistoning into your core like there was no tomorrow. Jessie presses your chest down into the bed more, almost standing above you to thrust into your wet pussy. Her knuckles were almost white with how tight she held you in place, muscles rippling in all the right places.

You sputtered and took all that she gave you, head spinning with pleasure as your lover used you in the name of science. You reached back to hold her hand and felt your heart grow fonder when she took it.

She gently moved you onto your back while keeping her cock inside you, lips pressed softly against your nose.

“I love you,” she muttered, kissing you briefly.

“I love you too, Jess,” you tell her, cupping her cheek as you feel her hips begin to speed up again. In this position, she’s able to lift your hips just a tad to get the angle she needs to pound right into your sweet spot.

The spine-tingling squeal you let out at one particular thrust told her all she needed to know.

“There, babygirl?”

“Right fucking there, Jessie!”

You see white and feel your insides knot up before the wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

But Jessie doesn’t stop or slow down like she normally does.

You’re pretty sure she’s speeding up.

“Jessie!”

“Fuck babe,” she pants, thrusting wildly. She looks up at you and you’re sure you’ve never been more in love with her as her next words leave her lips.

“Want me to come in ya?”

Your brain short-circuits and you can almost feel the little people in there scrambling to fix the problem so you can answer her.

“Fuck yes!”

Five more powerful thrusts and you feel Jessie trembling on top of you. She whines your name as she comes, legs turning to jelly and cock slipping out. She pushes herself off you and you crawl into her side, kissing her jaw softly.

“I think that worked, Jess.”

“We’ll send your mum the ultrasound so she can boast to her book club.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso imagines #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso soccer

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aperrywilliams · 2 months

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If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?

This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.

Part 2

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Spencer's POV

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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

And this time, it's Hotch's fault.

Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.

"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."

No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.

"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.

"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.

"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.

"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"

Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.

"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.

I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-

"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.

That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.

Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.

Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.

But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.

"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.

"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.

"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.

"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.

"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.

"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"

I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.

"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"

I'm screwed.

I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.

As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.

"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."

How the fuck can he do that?!

The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?

That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.

"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.

"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.

And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.

He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.

"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.

As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.

"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.

Oh, Lord. Help me.

I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.

"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.

"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.

Is she flirting with me?

I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.

A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.

"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.

My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.

"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.

Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.

I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.

"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"

Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.

As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.

Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.

Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.

When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.

As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.

"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."

Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.

"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."

I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.

Fuck. She is choking.

I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.

At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.

Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.

Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.

The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.

"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"

She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"

"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.

"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.

I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?

Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.

I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"

The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.

I don't even know how I should feel.

I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.

With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.

"Don't say it," I cut him off.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.

Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.

"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.

"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.

"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."

It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.

"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.

"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.

Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.

If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.

My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.

I know her. I've seen her before.

Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.

My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.

After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.

With that in mind, I approach her.

She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.

She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.

It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.

And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.

Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.

My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.

"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."

She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.

"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.

"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"

Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.

"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"

She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.

"It's just the right thing to do."

She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.

"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."

Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.

"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "

It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.

"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.

I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.

Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.

"Uh, well. Thank you again..."

I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.

"(Y/N)," she says.

"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."

Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.

"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."

I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.

"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.

"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."

A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."

I chuckle at her choice of words.

Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.

"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."

I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"

"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."

She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.

"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."

(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.

"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.

"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."

"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."

She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.

"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.

Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?

"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.

"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."

If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."

"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.

"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.

I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question."

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"

Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.

"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."

I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.

"That's why are you here tonight, too?"

My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.

"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"

(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.

"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.

"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.

"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."

I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.

"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."

I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.

"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.

"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.

"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."

"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.

"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.

"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."

Spencer Reid. Is that you?

I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.

"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.

"I won't. I promise."

Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.

The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.

She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.

Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.

It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.

We sit on a bench facing each other.

A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.

"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.

"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."

I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.

"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.

"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"

Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.

"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"

I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.

"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"

She chuckles, nodding.

"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.

(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.

That's how she met her boyfriend.

"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."

I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.

"What happened?"

"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."

(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.

"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."

(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.

"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.

"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.

"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."

Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.

"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.

"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."

"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.

"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."

Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.

She bitterly chuckles.

"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."

Spencer, do something.

"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."

And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.

"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.

"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.

"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.

I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.

"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.

"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.

"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."

I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.

Thank you, BAU.

"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.

"Non yet," I grin.

Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.

The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.

I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.

When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.

"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.

"Of course. It's the less I could do."

And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.

"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.

I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.

"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.

"You are welcome."

I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.

"See you around?"

(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.

"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.

"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.

I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.

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Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

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A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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winnienora14 · 30 days

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We’re always talking about super angsty Black Brothers but why do we never talk about the Black Brothers just being brothers

-Regulus coming out to Sirius(as trans and gay) and Sirius instantly seeing the distressed look on his brother’s face and just hugging him so tightly and telling him it’s ok

-Sirius crying when Reggie got into Slytherin because he was so proud of him and happy for him(he never heard the end of it because Reg kept mocking him for it)

-Sirius teaching Regulus how to play Quidditch

-the two brothers not saying a single word, just doing a fist bump at the end of a Quidditch match to congratulate the other for winning

-Sirius slapping Reggie behind the head or pulling his hair when he passes him in the corridors because he’s is annoying older brother

-The brothers making sure from a distance that the other is okay because they knows they hide how they feel a lot so their friends might not be able to tell they’re not okay

-Regulus helping Sirius understand how he feels about Remus

-Sirius helping Reggie come to terms with his sexuality and not be ashamed of it

-Sirius helping Reggie bag James(very delicate way to say it, I know)

-Sirius paying for Regulus’ top surgery and his binders before that

- Them judging each other’s taste in men and ranking their exes(mostly Regulus bullying Sirius about the time he thought he was straight)

-telling each other they’re ugly in the hallways

-Regulus saying ‘’you’re adopted’’ and Sirius going ‘’God I wish’’

-going to each other when they don’t feel good mentally

-Regulus making his special tea that cures any sickness for Sirius when he his sick(he doesn’t say it’s from him though, he just puts it on Sirius’s door step and then when Sirius comes back he just looks at the cup with a fond smile knowing it’s from his little brother)

-Sirius calls Regulus ‘’lus’’ because it’s his childhood nickname. Only Sirius is aloud to call him that, even James can’t. He once tried and he was sure Regulus was going to cut his head off from the look on his face.

-Regulus calls Sirius ‘’rius’’ because when he was younger he had a hard time saying Sirius’s name and so it ended up sounding like ‘’rius’’ and it just kind of stayed. Again, only Regulus is aloud to call him that.

-they have a chat where they hate on their parents and the Black family

-they have a lot of insides that people don’t get so sometimes a brother will say a random word in the middle of a conversation and both will just start laughing uncontrollably while everyone is looking at them like they’re crazy (well more like Sirius starts laughing uncontrollably while Regulus snorts)

-they found it rather funny when they became animagus ‘cause like themselves their animagus are so different and somehow so similar

Didn’t think this would be this long. But yeah... More may come later. Brace yourself!

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stuffeddeer · 5 months

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imagine mistaking beastzai as your usual dazai (you thought he wanted to be emo for a day) and like did usual silly cute things with him then dazai came home and he’s like HUH WHO IS THIS GUY R U CHEATING ON ME :(( but in the end you have… double boyfriends but one’s moody and one’s fucking annoying

anons that think alike omg telepathy … use ur powers for good!!! two asks in one btw i feel so productive

alsooo beast!dazai would be giddy like a child to be in the main tl w his love… he’d be twirling you around and enjoying what could’ve been before he has to go back!!! all dazais are cringy and in love w u it's true they told me themselves !!!!

“What’s with the outfit?” You spoke bluntly, clearly a little put off by the reappearance of the black coat and red scarf. “Dude, you look like Mori.” Harsh, sure, but your boyfriend worked so hard to walk alongside you in the light, so the last thing you wanted was to see what would’ve been, if not for —

Dazai smiled, seemingly amused. “Ah, love, it’s merely a costume. Thought you’d get a kick out of it,” he replies easily, pulling off the long red scarf: a staple of the Port Mafia’s boss.

His words help to relax you, letting out a small sigh as you push the coat off of his shoulders. “Let me grab you your coat, I know it’s around here somewhere…” You flittered about your shared apartment, pulling a backup brown coat from its spot buried underneath your closet. “This better suits you,” you speak under your breath as Dazai pulls it on. The fit seems a little… different. Is it somehow looser than normal? You frown.

“Thank you, love,” he repeated the same pet name. It felt as though he missed saying it, which doesn’t quite make sense.

You choose not to dwell on it — maybe seeing him in black again just rewired your brain for a moment. He’s alive and well in front of you and nothing else matters. A nod is all the reply Dazai gets before you slip on your shoes.

“I thought you might have headed to work early when I didn’t see you in bed this morning, but I guess that’s my fault for assuming the impossible,” you decide to tease.

Dazai easily slips behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin against your shoulder. “Mm… I love you, you know that? Let’s skip work today. We can spend time together, ‘kay?”

He’d always been unpredictable and spontaneous, so you merely laughed in response. “I don’t have work today, remember? But you still do.”

Shaking his head, he pouts — there’s the Dazai you love. “Nope!~ I refuse to go into work today. I’m spending my whole day with my love!” He practically jumps for joy, hands moving to gently hold your waist. “Let’s bake cookies.”

There isn’t much you can do, watching with an amused grin as Dazai unties your shoes before dragging you to the kitchen.

“It does not take two hours to make cookie dough…” you sigh, trying to jostle the white flour from your hair. “We baked cookies together, like, two weeks ago! How could we already have forgotten everything…”

Dazai grins, planting kiss after kiss on your cheeks, melted butter staining your skin from when he accidentally tried to drink from the cup you’d used to soften it. “Hard to remember much when I’m with you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You chuckled, grabbing a towel from the counter to wipe both your face and his lips.

“Yep!~ It’s like.. my love is so pretty I can’t think when I’m around them! Oh, I could just die in… No! I don’t even want to die! I could live in your arms, grow old together and watch you get all frail and saggy,” Dazai speaks dreamily, swooning over the idea of growing old with you. How sweet.

You push him away gently and begin balling up the chocolate chip cookie dough, pressing it onto the silver pan you made Dazai buy when you first started staying over. “Saggy? No, I’ll be young and beautiful forever,” you joke, but Dazai only nods in response.

“It’s true! No one holds a candle to my love. Why, I wish I could spend every day just staring at you.” Dazai’s voice always sounded teasing when he was with you, but even as you put the last of the cookie dough onto the tray (only had enough to fill one, since Dazai kept spilling, throwing or eating the ingredients..) you could feel the genuineness in his words.

Oven preheated, you slid the sheet in to bake (making sure to start the timer) before turning to Dazai. Before you could get a word in, the front door to your shared apartment creaked open. Heart dropping to your stomach, you grabbed the closest thing to you: a whisk your boyfriend had licked clean. Said boyfriend only seemed to sigh, falling into a more somber mood, head hanging before he sent you a sad smile.

“I think the jig is up, love…”

Your name is called from the front door, the voice… suspiciously familiar. “Are you in there? You weren’t answering your phone and I got worried...” Dazai stepped into your apartment, hanging his keys by the door before turning around (an addition you made, since he tended to forget his and jumpscare you by picking the lock every few days).

The three of you stood still, no words spoken and the only sound being that of your metal whisk dropping to the floor. Spinning from one Dazai to the next, you wiped a splotch of flour from your shirt collar. You felt guilty for some reason, like you were at fault for not recognizing an imposter Dazai, and wanted to make yourself look more presentable.

“Awww, love!” The Dazai at the door pouts, throwing his coat on the floor as he quickly heads over to you. “Are you cheating on me?” He continues, slouching over you to impose as much of his weight as he can. You struggle for a moment, his bone crushing hug enveloping more than you expected.

Guilt still apparent as your tummy twisted, you shook your head. “I didn’t— “

The other Dazai, the one wearing a black tie and covered in various cookie ingredients pouted as well. “Maybe she’s cheating on me! I mean, I can’t believe my love moved in with another man…”

God, this was too confusing. You gently pushed Dazai A off of you, stepping back from the two. “I don’t— “

“I can’t believe this… I head to work early one time and now you’re making cookies for someone else!” Dazai A whined, face smooshed against the oven door’s glass in longing. “I’ll never be on time again! In fact, I think I’ll always have to be late.”

Dazai B pulled Dazai A back towards him by his collar, whispering obnoxiously, “I’ll share the cookies if you share the beautiful partner.”

Dazai A nods in approval, eyes closed and arms crossed like it was the easiest decision to make in the world. “I want half the sheet. And, I want a kiss…” He pouts towards you. Ugh, how annoying.

You deadpan towards the two, no longer feeling guilty. These two were just as much Dazai as they could get. Arms spread, you let Dazai A pull you into a hug so you can give him a proper welcome home kiss. “Both of you are obnoxious. Is that all I’m worth? Half a sheet of cookies?”

“Half a sheet of your cookies,” Dazai B grins. “That’s not something either of us would give up lightly.” The other Dazai nods in agreement.

Both of your stupid, annoying, clingy boyfriends tug on your sleeves, forcing you over to the couch so they can both receive your affections while the cookies bake.

the timer goes off after a while but they both whine about not wanting to let u get up. once you threaten letting the cookies burn they're quick to let go. i hate them both.

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pitchsidestories · 8 days

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healing II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1644

It’s a truth universally acknowledged, that two successful female players, must be in want of the biggest title in Europe, but also want to impress their girlfriend with this huge achievement.

Playing for pride and love on the biggest stage. The stadium in Bilbao was full of supporters of both teams, although the Barca fans were outnumbering the Lyon fans by far.

Meanwhile the second half had started, and the game was getting more heated and intense, the final was slowly slipping away from the French players fingertips, while the team of your girlfriends was gaining momentum. You watched everything unfold in front of your eyes with Lucy Staniforth who has been a friend of Lucy and Ona for a long time at this point.

“Lucy, have you seen how Lyon knocked over their former teammate?”, you asked her. It enraged you how the Lyonnais players were treating Lucy Bronze on the pitch.

“I did!”, she added in a more calm and reassuring tone, but Lucy is tough.”

“Yes, you’re right, but this was still harsh from them.”, you nodded.

“I agree. But it’s the UWCL final.”, the Aston Villa midfielder reminded you and herself. There was so much to win and loose over 90 minutes plus added stoppage time. You could almost taste the anticipation and pressure radiating from both teams on your tongue. So did your friend next to you.

The match went on, but when suddenly Ona was on the ground and Lucy Staniforth told you earnestly:” Don’t look, y/n.”

Her saying that only caused you to glance at the horrific situation closer, turning pale at the sight of your girlfriend, whose face had started to bleed heavily:” What, why? Oh no, Ona!”

“I said don’t look. That’s a lot of blood.”, she observed quietly. The horror the fellow footballer felt was written in her face too.

“Does she need to get off?”, you questioned her worried.

“No, I don’t think so.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“Ona wouldn’t want to anyway, not when it’s about her first Champions League title.”, you thought out loud.

“They’re checking her.”, Lucy Staniforth remarked.

“Ona’s tough too.”, you mumbled unable to look away from your girlfriend’s red face.

“You’re right, but it’s so much blood.”, the older woman swallowed hard.

“It’s. God, I wish I could somehow do something.”, you cried out helplessly.

“You can’t. Stay here.”, she replied rationally, holding you back with her hand on your upper arm, so you wouldn’t move.

“But-.”

“They covered it. She’s coming back on.”, the midfielder interrupted you. Looking back at the pitch it filled you both with relief, seeing Ona doing alright for now.

You watched on as Ona took the pitch again, a white band-aid on her cheek.

“This will hurt tomorrow.“, you cringed in sympathy for your girlfriend.

Lucy smiled, trying to loosen up the atmosphere: “I’m pretty sure it already hurts.“

“Yes but I guess the adrenaline will help her now.“, you shrugged.

“I’m sure.“, Lucy said, fully focused on the game again.

The game was tight and hard-fought. Exactly the kind of game a Champions League final deserved and you were sure you could appreciate it more if you were less worried about your girlfriends.

Only when Alexia came on and scored the 2:0 for Barcelona in stoppage time, you could feel yourself relax. That was it, the game was over. Another UWCL trophy for FC Barcelona.

With the final whistle, you flung your arms around Lucys neck while she pulled you in for a hug to celebrate.

Your gaze drifted towards the players on the grass again.

“Let’s go down there, shall we?“, you asked, trying to keep any impatience out of your voice.

Lucy smirked knowingly at you: “Yes, go to your girlfriends.“

When you entered the pitch, the players were still jumping around in exhilaration and you had to wonder where they got all that energy from after such a game. Your girlfriends stood off to the side.

Lucy was busy examining Onas injury when they caught sight of you.

“Y/n!“, they both called, waving you over.

You hugged your girlfriends with pride: “Hi. Congrats, champions.“

“Hi, babe.“ Lucy pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How are you both? Oni, yours looked especially bad.“, you asked, eyeing both your girls cautiously.

Ona shrugged a little self-consciously: “I’m okay. I got her studs in my face. It looks worse than it actually is.“

“Promise?“

The smaller defender nodded: “Promise. It’s just a bit swollen right now.“

You had been able to tell since you arrived on the field. Her cheek was red and the swell almost reached her eye. It looked horribly painful.

“We’ll take care of that. Right, Luce?“

Your English girlfriend nodded, a big grin on her face: “Of course we’ll.“

Ona almost rolled her eyes at the two of you: “Loves, I can assure you I’m alright.“

“I’ll get you some ice later.“, Lucy said, completely ignoring Ona.

The Spanish defender let out a sigh: “It’s fine, really. All I want to do now is to celebrate this big win with you two.“

“Ona…“, you started.

Lucy looked at you, smirking at your girlfriend: “She’s so going to regret that tomorrow.“

“Oh, absolutely.“, you agreed, amused.

Ona groaned: “Don’t talk to me like I’m the child in this relationship!“

“We don’t.“, Lucy laughed, unimpressed by your girlfriends annoyance.

“We’re just making sure that you’re going to be alright.“, you sided with Lucy.

“You should better check on Lucy, she’s older.”, Ona only half joked, bumping the fist playfully against your lover’s upper arm.

“Oh, please, I’m good. Plus wait until you two turn thirty.”, the English woman warned you both grinning.

“That’ll take a while, Lucy.”, the younger defender reminded her.

“Very true, sorry Lucy.”, you quickly switched alliances to your other girlfriend.

“I’ll remind you in a few days.”, Lucy decided.

“That’s basically forever until that.”, you couldn’t resist teasing her. Even when it meant that she was throwing you on her broad shoulders, carrying you over the pitch.

“Hey, let me down.”, you protested giggling.

“No.”, the older player replied. The win had made her forget about her knee which always hurt and made her act recklessly.

You looked for the face of your injured girlfriend, crying out:”Oni, help.”

“Lucy, we don’t want any more injuries.”, Ona intervened.

“I’m careful.”, Lucy promised.

“Hopefully.”, the younger defender said, but she did look relieved once your feet touched the ground again.

After you both were inspecting her wound, the English woman announced:” We’ll take care of you now, Ona.”

“I’m okay, really.”, Ona attempted to wave off the concerns you were both having.

After the party where the team, friends and family let loose, celebrating the champions league win, as well as the nearing end of a long, successful, but also exhausting football season, you three reached the comfort of your hotel room.

“Here’s some ice, amor to help with the swelling.”, you told her in a soft voice before it could touch her skin she stopped you with a tortured smile.

“Too late. I look like this in all the photos.”

“Yes, but you will feel better with it on your skin.”, Lucy stated, knowing fully well from her own experiences with injuries that it was at least providing some kind of relief.

Despite Ona throwing her a doubtful look, she let you do your work:” Okay, fine.”

“And better?”, you asked her quietly.

“A lot.”, the Spanish player closed her eyes in relief. Giving you a perfect view of her long lashes and freckles who were scattered around like stars in the night sky while you were comforting her with the eyes in your hands.

“That’s good.”, you nodded happily.

“Thanks, my girls.”, Ona mumbled gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, Lucy whispered, while squeezing the younger woman’s hand.

Watching your girlfriends’ interactions moved you and made you feel warm and proud inside. Especially when you were thinking about what they achieved today with their team.

“You two really left it all on the pitch today.”, you remarked in awe.

“It helped to know that you were in the stands.”, the Spanish defender confessed as she pressed a thankful kiss to your temple.

“It did?”, you lifted an eyebrow.

Nodding, Lucy joined in: “I can confirm that.“

“But I did nothing…“, you interrupted, feeling stupid to get all the praise when your girlfriends where the ones fighting on the pitch.

Lucy carefully ran her thumb across your cheek, cradling your head in her hand: “You were there. That was enough.“

You could melt at the sound of her voice. “Thanks, girls. Tonight was really special.“

“Yeah, for us too. Trust us.“, Ona smiled softly.

“I do. But now it’s time for healing.“, you decided, nodding towards the bed.

Ona sighed: “But only for a bit.“

You knew how much your girls hated to sit still and relax. Especially when it involved injuries.

You were surprised that Lucy immediately moved towards the bed. She sat down and patted the mattress next to her: “Come on, girls. Let’s try to rest, tomorrow will be just as crazy.“

You crawled into bed next to her. Ona followed you and took the place in the middle.

Happily, you smiled at the two football players, still moved by the events of that evening: “Good night, my champion girlfriends.“

“Sleep well, our pretty WAG.“, Ona grinned back.

You let out an amused huff. You never imagined yourself as the girlfriend of a football player and yet here you were, in bed with two of the most amazing women on the night of the Champions League final.

As you listened to the slowed breathing of your girlfriends, you realized that you would not change a single thing. There was still some concern about Ona's wound, but in overall contentment you also fell asleep.

#lucy bronze #ona batlle #lucy bronze x reader #ona batlle x reader #lucy bronze x ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso oneshot #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso fluff

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sukifoof · 11 months

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hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

#undertale #utdr #flowey #asriel #asriel dreemurr #chara dreemurr #chara #utdr analysis

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soobnny · 10 months

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voicemails park sunghoon leaves you while he’s on tour — fluff, established relationship, tiny angst

one. hi, baby. how are you? what did you do today? tell me all about it, okay? i love hearing you talk.

two. you know, every single time i finish a show, i just think you’re backstage somehow. that you’re there and waiting for me with the biggest kiss, and you’ll tell me you’re proud of my performance. and then i get upset when i remember you’re oceans away from me. i forget that you aren’t with me right now. i wish it wasn’t like this all the time.

three. (monkey noises) baby, i’m at the zoo! and, oh my god, earlier i saw the cutest otters. you would love them. the tour guide told us that they hold each other so they don’t drift apart in the sea. that’s literally you and me. i’m sending you a hundred pictures when we get back to the hotel.

four. 33 more days, pretty girl. ready up those lips! they are not catching a break when i come home.

five. baby, baby, baby. look, i learned to imitate the sound of a pigeon. wait, listen. (poor pigeon imitation) i did well, no? did i do well? heeseung says it’s absolutely horrible, but i don’t think it’s that bad. anyways, what’s your favorite animal these days? i’ll learn that next!

six. babyyyyyyyyy. i miss you so much, this isn’t fair! i’m actually going to ask bang pd to let me take you with me on the next tour. i cannot do this again. i feel like i’m gonna die if i don’t have you in my arms in the next 24 hours. i hate being far away from you.

seven. hey, are you having a hard time right now? call me back, please. i’ll talk to you until you fall asleep. just know you’re already doing so well, okay? and i can see the efforts you’re making to go on. you’ll get through this, like you did so many times before. it’ll all be better soon. it’ll only get better from here on out. i’ll make sure of that.

eight. i learned a couple magic tricks backstage these past few days. i can’t wait to show them to you!

nine. (kissing noises) (sunoo saying gross!)

ten. let me know about your day. i wanna hear everything. it makes me feel like i’m there with you too

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starogeorgina · 3 months

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𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen OC , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.03

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”

Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”

“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”

Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”

The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”

Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”

“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”

“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”

You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.

“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”

“We still could be.”

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”

“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”

“You have more courage than any knight I know for even posing such a thing.”

A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a joke. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”

His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

—

Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.

You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”

“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

When Jace pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”

—

Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”

You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you down still linger on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.

“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”

He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I’ll protect you.”

For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”

“I could help with that.”

Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Promise.”

Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I’m going to make the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”

“Do you mean—oh fuck!”

Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.

“Gods, that feels good!”

One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clitoral area and flicking over it with his tongue.

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.

Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“

“I want you, Jace; I want this.”

Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clitoral area and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, Ness; I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, keep going, please, please!”

Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.

—

Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.

While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.

“How the sun is rising.”

Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.

Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.

I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao

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soxcietyy · 5 months

Note

Can I request Yuta and y/n go to gojo’s house to “house sit” while he’s out on a mission (for whatever reason gojo wants them to watch his house), and while in there, they have rough sex and Gojo comes home to his house and they hide in one of his closets and finish in there.😭

House sitting

"If anything breaks I’m going to make sure it comes out your pockets." Gojo said with a stern voice over the phone.

Today your lovely teacher left you and Yuta to house sit for extra credit. He had a week long mission across Japan and he needed someone to take care of his home. Mostly because he had a very expensive pet Koi fish to be maintained. He had set you long instructions about how to feed and clean its home.

He trusted the both of you because you were the most careful people out of the rest. Making him feel at ease about leaving his home to you. He couldn’t make himself leave the other student to do such a job.

Isn’t he rich? Something like that shouldn’t hurt him. You laugh at the thought as you take out the key from your pocket and insert it in the keyhole.

The door opened to the big house and both of you stepped in with your jaws open. It looked really big and nice from the outside but the inside was indescribable. He’d had to of paid an interior decorator because theirs no way he had good taste like this.

"Don’t worry Gojo sensei we won’t ruin anything. Hope your mission goes well!" Yuta says as he wishes his sensei a good trip. When he hung up he put his phone in his pocket and smiled at you.

You were currently raiding the pantry because Gojo did say "make yourself at home, just don’t get too comfortable." You ended up finding pretty high end snacks and foreign ones too. The amount of sweets in there was disgusting to look at. You ended up grabbing a bag of American bbq chips but it was snatched out of your hand by Yuta.

You quirk your brow and playfully take it back. The smirk on his face determined that a game had begun. You run past him with the chips and tauntingly shake them in the air. You knew he loved eating chips and would die to try some of these.

"You going to come and get them?" You laugh.

"Mmh Im sure Gojo has something similar or even better in the pantry." He said as he walked past you.

You sigh seeing how the game ended so quickly but soon took that thought back as he grabbed it from your hands in one swift motion. You quickly grab the back of his shirt and pulled him back. Yuta ends up falling down and you take the bag once again.

"That was dirty" he says as he sat there

"How unfortunate huh? You better start begging for this bag Okkotsu because there’s no way you’re getting it from me."

Yuta grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down with him making you fall on your behind. You groan from the pain but then gasp in surprise as he pushed you completely on the floor. Back touching the cold marble tiles. He had your arms pinned on the floor as he hovered over you. The ring from his necklace dangling over your face.

"Can I beg for a different snack? Something more exotic?" He leans down till your noses are touching.

You swallow hard as the grip on the bag of chips suddenly loosened. Gojo would be mad if he found out you guy did it in his house. He didn’t even know the both of you were dating. It was something you guys decided to keep secret for now. If he did know you doubt he would have let the both of you guys stay together alone at him house. You shyly look away as he planted a kiss on your head.

"Gojo is going to get mad when he finds out." You whisper as if he was somehow going to be listening to the conversation.

"If he finds out, trust me he’s not going to be back soon. If he was we wouldn’t be house sitting right?" He said trying to persuade your answer.

"You don’t have a condom" you say trying to find an excuse.

He chuckled as he looked up and around the room. "This is Gojo’s house you know, that’s one of the first things we’re going to find if we snoop around." He said as he stood up and extended his hand out.

You gladly took it and got on your feet. You watch as he walked down a hall into a room. Following right behind him out of curiosity you realize that he had entered your teachers room. Peeking in you could feel his huge cali-king bed in the middle. It had big white fluffy covers on and tons of pillows. You could also see tons of designer shopping bags thrown in a corner. An expensive dresser and his collection of sunglasses.

"Ah thank goodness we have almost the same size, this should be fine." He said as he held the rubber in between his index and middle finger.

You could feel your cheeks flush as he said it with a happy look on his face. He handed the rubber to you too look at while he began to take his clothes off.

"Wait! We’re doing it here? In his room? Are you crazy?! He’s totally going to find out, he’s not stupid Yuta!" You say as you pull his shirt back down.

He sighs as he sits you on the big bed. You look up at him confused on what his plan was. He pushed you onto the bed as gently as sits over your waist trapping you under him. He then proceeded to take his shirt off fully.

"Relax, I don’t think iv ever seen you this nervous other than our first time." He says amused.

He was right, you were probably overreacting and everything was going to be fine. He took your uniform off too and eventually both of you were in bed unclothed. He leaned down and kissed your body up and down while you played with his silky hair. Going all the way down till he reached your throbbing heat. You bite your lip as he hooked your legs onto his arms and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. His lips brush against your as you could feel as his warm tongue entered in between your folds.

"Mhm!"

He began eating you out like he always did. As if it were his last meal. You grip his hair as he continued eating you out faster. So many lewed noises being made. It sounded so wet and so good that it made you feel embarrassed somehow. Your toes curled while he messed with your sensitive bud. You could feel yourself getting closer but he stopped halfway not wanting you to finish just yet.

Changing location on the bed you now were laying your head near the headboard. Yuta was now on the bed spreading your legs apart. He allied himself to your hole and slowly started going in. You wince at the uncomfortable pain from not being stretched out.

He slowly pulls his tip in and out of you repeatedly to get you comfortable with his length. As he moved the bed shook a bit. He was looking around the room making sure the bed didn’t bump into anything valuable and then noticed the shelf on top of the bed. On there you could see a few expensive statues that seemed to be a collection. As he still mindlessly moved he noticed that one was sitting too close to the edge and with one more small thrust the statue fell over the edge. He lunged foward to catch it before it made contact with the floor and that he did.

“Yuta!" You yell

He looked down at you to see your face full of pain. Then he realized that he shoved himself all the way in to be able to catch the statue.

"Sorry! I didn’t mean to ram into you!" He said with a shy smile.

After that situation the both of you continued. He thrusted into you more and more. You moaned his name as you grabbed his arms for moral support. His member attracted you out so much that you felt so full. Your eyes watered from how good it felt. Your thighs touched his chest as he folded you more and more. He wanted to make sure that he was deep inside of you and leaving you satisfied. His hips rolled making you squirm even more. But before either of you could finish you could hear the front door creak open and someone yell.

"I’m home! You guys won’t believe how easy that mission was. Stupid elders made it seem like such a big de-"

As Gojo ranted the both of you jump out of bed. Yuta grabbed all of your clothes and shoved them inside the closet as you fix the bed up. Your heart was racing like crazy as you ran inside the closet pulling Yuta inside too. He looked at you stunned but before he could say anything you closed the door quietly. Turning around you could see how huge the closet was. If you had to compare it to something it would be two dorm rooms combined. The both of you sit in silence as you heard his wonder around the house calling for you guys. You switch the light off as slowly sat on the floor curing Yuta for getting you guys into this mess.

How were you guys supposed to leave? Or make it seem like you guys wernt doing it in his room? Will you guys get suspended?

Your mind was running with hundreds of questions but soon stopped as soon as you felt to hands grasp your waist. You head snapped back as if you were going to be able to see him but all you saw was pitch black. You had no idea how he found you in the dark or how he knew where your hips were. You sat here feeling him push your back against his as he slipped back inside of you. You gasp but he covered your mouth quickly to prevent any noise. Grabbing your legs he listed you up. He moved you up and down like his person cock sleeve as he stood. You sometimes forgot how crazy strong he was.

"He could open this door any minute." He whispered making you tense up.

The room echoed with the faint sound of your skin slapping until Gojo entered his room. That didn’t stop Yuta though and he continued. He kept on going as if you guys wernt about to be caught. Yuutas breaths started to become heavy and so were yours. You throw your head back as you began to orgasm.

"I found you" Gojo says as he opened the closet door.

"…" he stood there stunned looking at Yuta with a odd gaze.

"That’s definitely not your color." Gojo said as he stepped inside to help him out.

Yuta was wearing one of Gojos button up pretending as if he was trying on clothes. You ran out when Gojo was paying attention to only him. As you ran you could feel something running down your legs and you stopped infront of a hallway mirror to see it was semen. The condom must of broken…

Now wasn’t the time to worry about this. You had to leave immediately. Throwing your clothes on you run out the door. Hopefully you were still going to get that extra credit.

Back in Gojos house Yuta was now being styled by Gojo.

"So where is y/n?" He asks as he buttons Yutas shirt up.

"She left before you got here, family emergency." Yuta said dryly.

"That’s weird because I saw her shoes at the front door when I came in. I also saw the condom wrapper you guys left on my nightstand."

#yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #yuta okkotsu x y/n #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu #yuta x y/n #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta headcanons #jjk yuuta #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jjk

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dindjarindiaries · 4 months

Text

Doomsday

summary: You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: intense physical & emotional torture (incl. choking), injuries (incl. dislocations & blood), trauma, hurt/comfort, angst

word count: 5.197k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Doomsday had finally arrived, but at least you and Din would be going down together.

Your hands and ankles had since been bound by yellow fibercord, strong enough to resist every effort you tried to make to break free of them. The same had been done to Din, leaving even the galaxy’s most formidable warrior helpless. There was nothing else you two could do than allow the Super Commandos to drag you through the corridors of Moff Gideon’s base.

The thought alone twisted a sickening knot inside your stomach. Somehow, it had come to that again. You played yourselves right into Gideon’s filthy hands.

Of course, you and Din had been the only ones to survive the trap on your side of the blast door. He had acted as your shield, and maybe if he hadn’t needed to block so much of the Commandos’ blaster fire, he would’ve been able to take them down easier. You were quickly finding out that you were more of a liability in Din’s life than a partner, even if your shared vows said otherwise.

The Commandos brought the two of you into what you assumed was the briefing room Gideon had mentioned before. Each pair of troopers had set you and Din on your knees across from each other, forcing you to face one another. You couldn’t bear to look at him, no matter how much the mere sight of him comforted you.

You had only been at Gideon’s mercy once before, but never like this—and that one time was enough to almost take Din away from you forever.

“Cyar’ika.” Din’s modulated voice was soft, but due to the tense silence in the room, it nearly made you jump. Your gaze still darted across the floor. “Cyar’ika, look at me.”

His words weren’t a plea. Instead, they were a comfort, as if he was verbally trying to lay his own cape over your shoulders. It earned him your gaze, and despite how disheartening the sight of him tied-up was, the sweet familiarity of his visor began to ease the unsettled knot within you.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You swallowed hard, wishing you could borrow his strength for once as you instead dreaded the shadows turning the corner towards the room’s entryway. “Promise?” Your voice was no more than a whisper.

Din nodded. “Promise.”

You fought to ignore the amused huff one of the Commandos let out, but Din couldn’t do the same. He shoved his side against the trooper’s leg, earning him a hit of the trooper’s blaster against his helmet. Din grunted, and you winced to yourself, staring at the floor once again.

Gideon’s bootsteps manifested from the shadows, presenting you with the vision of his full figure. His new armor was still a lot to process, especially with the knowledge that it had been inspired by the Dark Troopers that had nearly taken all of you out on Gideon’s light cruiser. He stopped once he entered and let the door slide closed behind him before he raised his helmet from his head and offered it to one of the troopers at his side.

“And so we all meet again.” Gideon sounded overjoyed at his proclamation, his arms raising at his sides as he chuckled in cruel delight. “If only it was under better circumstances.”

You and Din remained silent. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, but you still couldn’t quite return his look. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and hoped the sudden wave of nausea would go with it.

“Ah, yes, I see how it is. You’d like to get this done quickly.” Gideon’s sickening smirk remained as his arms fell back to his sides. “For once, our desires align.” He gestured over to Din. “Remove his helmet.”

“No!” You couldn’t bite back your instant protest as it clawed its way through your throat. You set your jaw and stared Gideon down with a lethal gaze. Your chest burned with the flame of hatred as you tugged on the troopers’ grasps.

Gideon’s gaze sparkled at you as he set his focus in your direction. “Is there another option you’d like to present at this time?”

Your gaze slid down to Din, who was somehow as composed as ever. His visor had never strayed from you, as if he was studying every inch of you to make sure you were okay. You let out a defeated exhale. “What do you want from us?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m desiring something?”

“There’s no other reason why you’d have us here.” You scoffed and shook your head, using the logic Din had often praised you for. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted. A shiny beskar suit, a fully-equipped base on Mandalore itself, the ability to make even the strongest of warriors yield to your demands.” You frowned as you sifted through everything. “There’s nothing we could offer you.”

You looked at Din again. His armored chest suddenly stalled, and yours did the same at the same time. Oh shit.

“Bait.” For Bo-Katan, certainly, but mostly for Grogu—for another shot to take more of his blood.

“You’re asking and answering my own questions for me.” Gideon gave you a smile of approval. “That’s a brilliant mind.” Gideon’s attention shifted to Din as his smile widened. “Must be why you decided to wed.”

Din’s chest began to move again as he calmed himself with steady breaths. Still, he presented no response, remaining silent in a way that clearly brought Gideon heavy frustration.

“What do you think, Din Djarin?” Gideon tilted his head, his smile straightening out into a look that had haunted your nightmares longer than you cared to admit. “Should we keep this easy and slip off that helmet now?”

Din only raised his chin higher at Gideon. Your heart twisted in your chest as you realized the motion gave Gideon and his men easier access to the lip of his helmet.

“I can’t let you do that.” Your voice was low, rough, and bitter, as if it had been squeezed out of your tense throat. You narrowed your eyes at Gideon as his gaze met yours again. “I won’t let you.”

“Is that so?” Gideon hummed and strolled closer to you. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

You circled your jaw. “Whatever it takes.”

Gideon’s gaze sparkled again. He knelt down in front of you and held your chin with his fingers. “Anything?”

You jerked your head back, forcing his grip away from yourself as you snarled at him. “Anything.”

Gideon smiled in satisfaction. “There we go. Compliance.” He kept his voice soft as he tilted his head at you. “All I need to ask you is a simple question, then.”

You kept your anger at the forefront of your mind, knowing that if it faltered, fear would surely give way. “Fire away.”

Gideon nodded. He asked his question like it was the easiest thing in the world to answer. “Why did you come to Mandalore?”

Your expression didn’t falter. “For fun.”

The corner of Gideon’s mouth twitched. “Ah. Yes.” He stood back to his full height and stepped back, nodding at one of the Commandos. Next thing you knew, your cheek was burning from the trooper’s blaster hitting it, and the stinging it left behind promised not only a forming bruise but also a bleeding cut.

“Gideon.” Din spoke for the first time since Gideon had entered, though his voice was more a growl than anything else. It was the angriest you had ever heard him. “Keep your hands off them and focus that energy on me.”

Gideon turned his head towards Din. “Is that a treat?”

Din tilted his helmet, a slow and calculated motion. “It’s a promise.”

Gideon huffed, clearly amused by Din—as if he wasn’t on the receiving end of one of the galaxy’s greatest warrior’s threats. Before he could speak, you filled the space with your own voice. “It’s all right.” You rolled your shoulders, ignoring the way the Commandos tightened their grip on you. “I can take it.”

Gideon lifted his brow, genuinely impressed. “I believe you.” His lips spread in a slow smile. “But the question is,” he turned towards Din, “can he take it?”

“No.” You shook your head at Gideon and hoped your pure desperation wasn’t obvious. You couldn’t handle watching them hurt Din at your expense. “There’s no need for that. There’s no need for any of this.”

Gideon waved a gloved hand towards you. “Would you like to plead your case?” You tightened your jaw, and Gideon offered a dramatic bow, giving you the floor.

“You already know why we’re here. It’s why you sent your forces after the fleet. You need us alive if you intend on using us as bait, and given the fact you somehow know about our marriage, it seems there’s nothing about us you don’t already know.” You tilted your head at Gideon, narrowing your eyes as you assessed him. “So why did you ask me about coming here, and what the hell do you really want to know?”

Gideon hummed. “Ah, you misunderstood. I don’t want to know why you’re on Mandalore now. I want to know why you were here before.”

Your blood ran cold, but you kept your face unchanged. “We weren’t here before.”

Gideon chuckled. “Whose TIE interceptors did you think were following you?”

You swallowed hard and looked at Din. His visor, however, was stuck on Gideon, something that made the knot in your stomach tie tighter. There was more that you weren’t getting.

“That’s not the only thing you misunderstood.” Gideon was smug as he went on, clearly proud of himself for outsmarting you. “You thought I intended on hurting him.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “In a way, I suppose you were right.” You froze as one of the troopers at Gideon’s side stepped in front of you. “Just not physically.”

The Super Commando tossed his blaster to the floor and swung his fist before you could process the action. You took the hit with a gasp of both surprise and pain, feeling the sting of it on the side of your face they hadn’t already hurt. You were ready for the next one, and you had braced yourself before it hit your other cheek that had already gone sore.

The sound of a struggle was somehow louder than the blood roaring in your ears. “Gideon, if you value your life, you’ll stop.” Din’s warning was so terrifyingly ruthless and genuine that it made a shiver run down your own spine. The breathless way it was spoken due to his constant struggle against the Commandos’ grasp on him only made it more threatening.

Gideon remained unshaken. “Answer my question, then.”

“Don’t.” You bit back a whimper at the soreness of your jaw as you gave Din a determined look. “I can take it.” Din’s visor met your gaze and that time, you were the one who sought to comfort him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The trooper disappeared behind you. You knew better than to think it meant you were in the clear. A moment later, his arm wrapped around your neck from behind, closing your airway more and more as he slowly pulled you in tighter. You tried your best not to make your struggle obvious, but eventually, you couldn’t help it. You fought to keep your gaze on Din, who had started pulling even harder at the Commandos’ grasp.

“Make them stop.” Din’s words were a pure growl once again. You accidentally let your gasp for air escape you in a way that made Din repeat himself much louder. “Make. Them. Stop.”

Your vision began to go spotty. You blinked an apology at Din if he could understand it before you let your eyes fall closed to focus on staying awake—staying alive.

“All you have to do, Din Djarin, is ans—.”

“Get the hell away from them and take my damn helmet off already!”

That was Din yelling. But, it couldn’t be. Din never yelled. He was never afraid. And he sure sounded afraid just then—but also very, very angry. You needed to breathe. Please, please…

The arm at your neck fell away, and you fell with it. Your body crumpled forward as you coughed and gasped for air, your neck and throat burning. The troopers pulled you back up, forcing your lungs to work even harder, but at least letting you see Din again. He was fighting to maintain his composure, and you noticed that right away, but his steady breaths indicated that he was getting closer to calming down again.

“So.” Gideon was smiling again as he looked at Din. How the hell was he smiling at that, at inflicting such horrible pain upon people? “That’s the choice you’re making.” He shook his head, as if he was disappointed with Din. “Breaking your precious Creed instead of answering a simple question?”

Din remained silent. Just like before, he held his chin up higher, offering his helmet up as if it was the easiest thing in the entire galaxy to do.

Gideon gestured for one of his men to step forward. You shook your head, your chest still heaving as you spoke with all the air you had managed to gather back into your lungs. “No, Din. Please.” Your voice was so hoarse even you could barely recognize it. As the trooper stood in front of Din, your panic rose, and flashes of every moment that led up to Din’s redemption in the Living Waters hit you in a single second. “No, no! Please.”

“Just tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make it stop.” Gideon had the audacity to act honorable as he nodded at you with a wrinkled brow, as if he was pitying you. It took all your self control to resist spitting in his direction.

“It’s okay.” Din’s voice was soft again, just as it had been when he first spoke to you in this horrible, terrifying room. You found his visor and lost yourself in it, for once in your life praying to the stars that you wouldn’t have to see his brown eyes anytime soon. “Just like I promised.” He nodded at you, then he turned his attention to the trooper at his side. “Do it.”

The Commando waited for Gideon’s command, and once he earned a nod from the Moff, the trooper reached forward to grab the lip of Din’s helmet. That’s when Din slammed his helmet forward, hitting the Commando’s hand at an angle perfect enough to make it bend and break at the wrist. The trooper cried out in pain and fell back a few steps, grabbing at his limp hand.

You smiled to yourself. Of course Din had a plan. You were foolish to think he wouldn’t.

But that sense of victory was short-lived. Gideon gestured to Din’s shoulder and the Commando on Din’s right side followed the unspoken order. You had no time to prepare as you watched the trooper grab Din’s arm tightly with both hands and pull it as far back and away from Din’s shoulder as he could.

The sickening crack couldn’t be heard over the sound of Din’s agonized scream. You squeezed your eyes shut so tight it made your temples throb, your stomach so sick that it threatened to expel any contents it had left onto the floor. Your lips trembled, the devastation that flooded your being overwhelming you in waves the more you heard Din’s pained breaths and quiet whimpers.

“There we go.” Gideon was satisfied. Of course he was. He delighted in draining the strength from those who posed a true threat to him. “It should be safe to remove his helmet now.”

You managed to open your eyes once again, but you almost wished you’d kept them closed. Din’s right arm was entirely limp at his side, but the Commandos still held him up anyway, no doubt adding more painful pressure to his dislocated shoulder. The trooper at Din’s left side was the one who made the move for his helmet, foregoing any sense of decency as he tore the beskar from Din’s head.

There was nothing but pure pain written all over Din’s handsome face. It contorted every feature in a way that made you fight the grasps holding you down, even if you were aware of how pointless that fighting was. Your chest heaved in panic for him rather than a need for air, and you didn’t care if Gideon noticed.

Then Din’s brown gaze met yours, and you realized there was actually a part of him that wasn’t in pain. His eyes were full of concern and comfort, both of which he aimed in your direction, his gaze never once straying from yours. He wrinkled his brow in a way that somehow differed from his look of agony. Are you okay?

Your lips continued to tremble, but you pulled them tighter in a vain effort to stop them. You offered a small nod and wrinkled your brow to ask him the very same thing.

Din’s brow relaxed, and with all the true determination and strength of the Mandalorian you wed long ago, he nodded as well.

For that moment, you believed him. You always did, and you always would. No matter how damn painful a dislocated shoulder was, especially with so much pressure on it, Din had certainly experienced worse pain before.

“Now we can get some answers.” Gideon sounded relieved as he turned his attention to you. “Are you ready to talk?”

You looked at him with all the hatred you felt for him in your heart. “Hell no.”

Gideon raised one corner of his mouth. “Your resilience is impressive, I must admit.” His head lowered, but his gaze remained in yours, looking deeper into the true feelings that hid within it. “But for as much as you’ve composed yourself, you’ve given just as much away. Nervous glances are saying what your tongue doesn’t have the courage to.”

Gideon paused, looking over at the Commandos by Din and nodding. One of them kicked Din in the ribs, making him grunt in surprise as an immediate punch to his cheek earned a pained gasp. Your eyes squeezed shut. They had already given enough away.

In all these years of being one of the galaxy’s greatest warriors, Din had never gotten a hit to his face without his beskar barrier—until now.

“That’s it.” Gideon’s victorious voice ran a horrible chill down your spine. “You won’t let him talk if we focus on you. But you…” you chanced looking at him again just to see another conniving smile, “you will comply if we focus on him.”

Your gaze found Din’s. You expected to find disappointment and pain there, but in true Din fashion, he offered nothing but comfort yet again. He gave you another nod, just like before. It’s gonna be okay.

“Fine.” Din’s gaze flashed with panic as you spoke with a resigned voice. You let your eyes fall to the floor in defeat. “I’ll tell you.” You swallowed hard and looked up, unable to face Din as you focused on Gideon. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Gideon smiled in victory. Stars, he was so arrogant that he wouldn’t have been able to see your mask slip even if you let it. “Let’s hear it.”

You looked at Din, painting guilt on your expression in a way that wasn’t completely a lie. Just seeing the pain that continued to remain on Din’s face, as well as the concern he held for you, was enough to make that guilt a little more real. “Beskar.” Din’s brown gaze flashed with understanding, but only for a moment. He quickly began to mask as he dropped his head in feigned disappointment. “We wanted beskar.”

Gideon didn’t buy it right away. “That’s it?” He scoffed. “After years of exile, you returned for… beskar?”

“We needed a large supply. An endless one, really.” You bit your cheek and paused. “I… I wanted my own suit of armor. Our people didn’t have enough for that. So, we took the risk and came here ourselves.”

Gideon’s gaze gave you a less-than-impressed once-over. “Clearly, that plan of yours didn’t work.”

“But our mission was worth it.” You raised your chin, selling your act with the true confidence you felt budding in your chest. “We may not have mined any beskar, but we discovered the planet was breathable, habitable. We were the ones who brought Bo-Katan back, and we were the ones who helped her to unite all Mandalorians—despite your best efforts to keep them apart.”

Gideon’s lip twitched. You didn’t bother hiding your smile of success. It would only sell your lie even more. “In doing so, you still made one critical failure.” Gideon nodded at one of the troopers next to you. “You never got your armor.”

The Commando slammed their knee into your ribs, not even to break them but certainly to bruise them. You gasped at the feeling, and a split second later, Din cried out in pain himself as he fought the troopers’ grasp on him, despite his heavily wounded shoulder. His eyes were screwed shut in an agony you couldn’t begin to imagine, but he fought anyway.

“Don’t forget, Din Djarin.” Gideon’s attention shifted to Din with another one of those sickening smiles. “You can’t hide your pain from us, now. Your face is even more expressive than theirs.” He pointed a lazy hand towards you.

Din reopened his eyes, a brown blaze of fury that would have terrified you if you weren’t so familiar with his softer and kinder nature. He spoke for the first time since having his helmet removed, his voice somehow even more threatening than before even amidst his hoarseness from his screaming. “You think you’ve won something by doing this.”

Gideon shrugged, smiling wider—and confirming Din’s words in the process.

“You think you’re the first Imperial who’s ever seen my face.”

Din huffed, an amused sound that matched the growing smirk on his blood-encrusted lips. Gideon’s expression began to falter. Din raised his chin and lowered his voice in a tone you’d only heard him use one other time before his duel with Paz.

“You’re wrong.” When Gideon’s brow furrowed in disbelief at Din’s words, he nodded. “That’s right. I’ve broken my Creed before.” Din chuckled and raised his brow at Gideon in expectation. “More than once.” He tilted his head. “Does that make you angry?”

Gideon himself stepped forward to deal Din his next blow. You braced yourself for it, closing your eyes as you heard the sound of Gideon’s fist meeting Din’s face. Din, however, only let out a grunt, a sound that immediately transitioned into a laugh as Din gave Gideon a less-than-impressed once-over.

“Really? That’s it?”

Gideon scowled and kicked his boot towards Din’s dislocated shoulder. You closed your eyes before you had to watch Din scream in pain. Hearing it was bad enough. Your lips had started trembling again, especially as Din’s pained whimpers continued with each breath he took.

“I’m satisfied for now.” Gideon rolled his shoulders and nodded at the troopers. “We’ll leave them in here, seal the door.” Gideon’s signature smile returned as he looked pointedly in your direction. “I have a feeling the worst for them is yet to come.”

A chill ran down your spine at his ominous words. With that, the Commandos at your sides all but threw you against the floor. You sprawled out as they filed out of the room behind Gideon, struggling to push yourself up with your bound wrists as you heard the door slide closed. Instantly, you looked at Din, who they had so graciously left on his injured side.

“Oh, Din.” Your voice was a broken whisper as you crawled your way over to him.

Every breath Din took was pained, but there was nothing he could do to help himself. His gaze found you when you got closer, and your shattered heart fell apart within your chest as you saw the tears of pain there he had clearly been fighting to keep away from Gideon.

Your own eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry.” You couldn’t stop apologizing as you lifted your bound hands to his face and held it the best you could. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do this to me. You got me through it.” All of Din’s words came through gritted teeth as he fought the agony that attacked him. Still, he nodded at you with determination. “Can you help me up?”

You returned his nod, biting your cheek as you held his left arm with your bound hands and pulled. Din barely swallowed back his cry—and part of it still escaped—as the pressure on his shoulder released. You wanted to empty your stomach again at the sight of his limp arm, but before you could process it, Din spoke again.

“Are you okay?” Din looked as if he was trying to raise his bound hands to your face, but his shoulder wouldn’t let him, causing him to close his eyes and growl at the pain. “You’re bleeding. And…” his inhaled, reopening his eyes and revealing his pain—though this kind wasn’t physical, “your neck…” He trailed off, circling his jaw in evident anger.

You didn’t have to see yourself to know there were already bruises forming around your neck from the trooper’s tight grasp. “I’m all right. I promise. Like I said before, I can take it.” You covered his bound hands with your own. I’m not the one we need to be worrying about right now.”

Din’s gaze fell to your hands as he heaved the best breath he could manage. “I need your help again.” His eyes met yours. “It needs to go back in.”

“I…” you choked on the words you intended to say, “I can’t.”

Din’s gaze searched yours with a desperation that left you breathless. “Please.”

You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a breath. “Isn’t it gonna hurt you?”

Din nodded, refusing to lie to you. “Badly.” His forehead fell against your own in his effort to comfort both of you. “But you’ll be fixing me.” Din’s voice was a soft, intimate whisper as his lips brushed over your own. “It’s okay.”

Your lips began trembling again, so Din steadied them with his own. His mouth slotted over yours, as if you were the only remedy that could truly fix him. It alleviated all of the horrors and worries if even for just those precious few moments, your shaky breaths strengthened by his own before he pulled away and kept his forehead against yours.

Din nodded. “It’s okay.”

You tightened your jaw, returning his nod before you leaned away. “Here.” You managed to tug the leather off one of your hands as you lifted it towards Din’s face. “To help with the pain.”

The corner of Din’s mouth lifted in the best smile he could manage. You helped him bite down on the leather and waited for another nod that would be your cue to work on his arm. Even though you weren’t quite ready yourself, you were going to help him, just as he had asked you to.

“On three.” Your grasp on his arm alone caused Din to growl into the leather, but the material at least worked to muffle the sound. “One… two…” you closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply, “three!”

You corrected Din’s shoulder placement in one swift move. The popping it made as it fell back in place could be felt under your fingers, but once again, all you could hear was Din’s own agony—even through the leather. You lifted your hands and saw Din’s eyes screwed shut as his head hung in pain and exhaustion, each grueling sound still cutting through the leather.

You maneuvered yourself in front of him again and held his face the best you could with your bound hands, running circles over his tightened jaw as he began to relax more and more. There was a single tear that had escaped his eyes no doubt caused by his agony, and you were quick to wipe it away as you held him until he was breathing evenly again.

When Din’s gaze met yours, you took the leather and removed it from his mouth. He was quick to lean forward and kiss your cheek. “Thank you.” His voice was nothing but an exhausted rasp. “I love you.”

Your lips and your voice wobbled as you responded. “I love you, too.” You shook your head, the devastation hitting you in waves as it brought a flood of tears to your gaze. “I’m sorry they’ve done this to you.” Your gaze flickered to his helmet that still laid on its side many feet away. “All of it.”

Din raised his bound hands to your face despite how badly it hurt him, something that was clear by the tight growl he released as he did so. As if you were his tether of safety and comfort to the galaxy, his grip on you made him relax once again. His voice was so quiet you almost missed it. “You say that like it’s your fault.”

You tried to steady yourself with a breath, but you hiccuped on it instead. Din’s forehead pressed against yours; he was just as much your tether to the galaxy as you were his. “If you hadn’t had to defend both of us from them…”

“No.” Din shook his head at that, minding your own as he kept your foreheads together. “You should have never been in that situation to begin with.” Din’s gloved fingers ran over your cheek. “Neither of us should have.”

You heaved another breath. “Your Creed… after everything you did…”

Din shrugged, wincing as he moved his bad shoulder. “We’re still on Mandalore.” He managed a half smile. “I’ll just go back to the Living Waters when we’re free.”

You didn’t dare voice your fears about ever getting out of there. Instead, you lowered your head to the space between his good shoulder and his cowl, tucking yourself underneath his bound hands so that his arms could be around you. His hands still held the back of your head the best they could.

You hated how small your voice was, but with all the hours you’d experienced in such a short amount of time, you couldn’t help it. “Can you tell me it’s gonna be okay again?”

Din’s face rested upon your head as he did just that. “It’s gonna be okay, cyar’ika.”

You closed your eyes. “Promise?”

Din nodded. “Promise.”

And despite all the odds stacked against the two of you, you believed him.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

#been meaning to write this one since april 2023 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #dindjarindiaries

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mangosrar · 4 months

Text

call it what you want pt8.

matt sturniolo x fem reader

an: yall my taglist is not working. trust me i have tried to tag you guys it just won’t let me 💔

“well this is a sight for sore eyes”.

you had never moved so fast in your life, you launched yourself off of matts lap, scurrying to your feet, turning to face the voice.

“mom, what are you doing here?” you asked out of breath.

“i could ask you the same thing. what are YOU doing here? in the boys locker room, with him?” she said, folding her arms, raising her eyebrows, and pursing her lips, staring straight at your red face.

“we were just-“ you began before matt, stood up cutting you off.

“mrs kats, i’m matt sturniolo” he said, jabbing his hand out for her to shake.

she didn’t even flinch, she just looked down at his hand in disgust, before bringing her eyes back up to his in a jagged stare.

“i know who you are, and i know what you are, and from what i can see you’ve already made your mark on my daughter” she spat.

“mom” you muttered, as a warning for her to stop.

“what? i’m not the one getting into fights, i’m not the one sticking my tongue down someone’s throat in the boys locker room, while that poor girl nurses a broken nose” she said, raising her voice slightly.

she was pissed.

she stared at you for a second, and when you gave in and looked to the floor, swallowing, she moved her gaze over to matt, letting her eyes linger on his for a second before speaking.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched him squirm under her cold regard.

“and as for you, i suggest you stay as far away from my daughter as you possibly can, or i will have your whole world come crashing down and you will land straight on your ass” she sneered at him. her voice was low and intimidating.

any normal person would’ve crumbled under this type of hounding, but whatever voice spoke inside of matt sturniolo’s head, was a fucking menace.

there was a brief pause, both of them just staring at each other, and when you finally looked up, you wished you could’ve took a photo.

your mother stood in front of matt, face hard, with her arms crossed, looking like she was about to ring his neck, and the devil child of matt sturniolo stood with his hands behind his back, looking calm and collected, with that shit eating smirk on his face that made your knees a little weak.

you weren’t sure how much longer this stand off was going to carry on for, but the anticipation was eating you alive.

suddenly, matt sucked in a breath, turning away from your mother, and sauntering over to you before placing a kiss on your temple and speaking up.

“i’ll meet you in the car baby” he cooed.

lord have mercy.

“and i don’t know how she didn’t drag me home by my hair, she just let me go!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air and dropping them back down.

“she didn’t even try to stop you?” nick asked, quirking his brow.

“i mean yeah but she didn’t put up much of a fight, she just told me i shouldn’t go, and that he’s a bad influence and shit” you replied, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“same old story” chris added, not taking his eyes off of his phone.

somehow, you had ended up at the triplets house, without your mother starting ww3. you hadn’t heard a word, from your dad or caden, and it was a little more concerning than you would like to admit.

the 4 of you were in the living room, chris slumped on the couch, playing some game, you and nick sitting on the floor, and matt on the other couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, not even paying attention to the conversation.

neither of you had spoken to each other since the locker room incident. he hadn’t even looked at you.

it was so confusing, because every time you felt like the two of you were getting somewhere, matt would push you back out again.

in a weird way, it was a comforting atmosphere. chris and nick didn’t know, and neither you or matt were prepared to mention it, and realistically, it was better that way.

talking about it would solve nothing. both of you would still hate each other, and you would both still regret it. so what was the point.

3:46am

this is exhausting. tossing and turning. you just couldn’t fall asleep. the whole day had been playing on your mind. you couldn’t wrap your head around how so much had happened in such a short amount of time.

nick lay next to you dead asleep, chris and matt upstairs in their own rooms. maybe if you just tried to talk to matt, you would stop thinking about it.

imessage

y/n: are you awake?

matt: what do you want.

y/n: can we talk?

matt: sure.

you found yourself outside his bedroom door, too nervous to go in. why? this needed to be done. you were confused and the two of you were just going in swings and roundabouts.

“are you gonna come in or just stand there like a creep?”

fuck.

you pushed the door open, to be met with matt sitting on his bed, with his phone in his hand. this was awkward. you’d never been in his room before, despite knowing him for 10 years. you never had any reason to.

you padded over to him and took a seat on the side of his bed, next to his legs. you sat silent for a second, looking at him and waiting for him to acknowledge you. he sighed and threw his phone down before meeting your eyes.

“um…i wanted to talk about what happened earlier” you spoke, voice shaky.

he just blinked at you, waiting for you to continue.

you sucked in a breath before just accepting defeat.

“i don’t know what’s going on matt. you treat me like shit and act like you hate me, and then you kiss me? you stood up against elijah, but you’re still so cold towards me? what does this mean?” you frowned at him.

he chewed on his lip for a second, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap.

the truth was, matt didn’t know what was going on either. he was just as confused as you were and it had completely knocked the wind out of him.

“i just kissed you. it meant nothing. you’re thinking way too deep into it. i figured someone would walk in so that’s why i did it” he shrugged. looking at you with no emotion behind his eyes, and it made your heart ache a little.

“but the whole elijah thing…” you trailed off. “i want to be with him, matt, you can’t kiss me and then pretend like it was nothing.”

“that was just to keep up the act y/n. you’re getting ahead of yourself like you always fucking do” he spat. his voice firm.

you dropped your eyes to your feet, as he stood up, walking over to his desk and messing with something.

“you can’t just kiss me matt, it’s not fair” you whispered, still not looking at him.

he scoffed. “why y/n? because you’re scared of finally getting over him?” you snapped your head up to meet his face, his eyebrows raised in question.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, confused expression on your face.

he turned to face you, looking down like he had the upper hand. he shoved his hands in his pockets before taking a breath in.

“don’t try to act dumb y/n. you crave whatever fucking havoc he brings you. and that is the whole reason you want to be back with him” his voice was quiet but harsh.

“what are you saying matt?” you just simply couldn’t understand why he was talking about this. matt kissed you and that was your concern, not what elijah brought to the table.

“you are too fucking weak to walk away from him. you don’t see what he does, but everyone else around you is laughing it up, watching you fall at his fucking feet. he’ll call you mean names, cheat on you, lie to you, humiliate you, then he will wrap you up, tell you he loves you, let you cry in his arms for his behaviour, and you will believe it. just like the 200 fucking times you have before. but it’s okay right? because his presence is the cure to all the damage he’s done” he spat. he was now in your face, seething.

tears brimmed your waterline. the heavy weight of his words, pressed on your chest. partially because it was true. partially because of the fact it was so obvious what he had done to you.

this was not matts call to make. he had no business knowing this and it was definitely not his place to make you feel like this, because out of all the things elijah has done, he has never been as fucking vile as matthew sturniolo.

“yeah that’s right, you’ll cry, and you’ll say ‘you’re right’ and everyone will feel bad for you, and then in a months time when elijah has you under whatever fucking spell it is that makes you fucking swoon, you’ll go back to him, because whatever damage he has done is so deep rooted and rotten inside of you, it is permanent and you will never get rid of it, no matter how had you fucking try.” matt hissed. his words were dripping with venom, and every single one had poked a hole in the small part of you that still had hope for matt being anything less than the most vile human being to ever walk the earth.

the tears were now full force streaming down your face, as you stared at him with wide eyes, desperately trying to process where this was coming from.

matt almost laughed at your state. his face was cold and switched off and the look behind his eyes was nothing but complete loathing.

you couldn’t even string together a sentence, you just sat there weeping like a wounded dog, trying to fathom how someone who never even gave you the time of day, had you all figured out.

the sound of you sobbing, changed something in matt, and it was like he had suddenly snapped out of this evil trance. his face fell, and his chest ached.

he knew it wasn’t your fault. it was familiarity, consistency. elijah was a fucking disease that you couldn’t fight off no matter how hard you tried.

matt breathed and took a step closer to you, placing a hand on the side of your head. “y/n”. he whispered, in a sad tone.

you shoved him off and stood up abruptly, wiping your face. you wasn’t going to let him pull you back in.

“no matt, you got your point across” you spoke with a shakey voice, putting distance between the two of you. he just stared at you with furrowed brows. before reaching a hand out to grab your arm gently, but you pulled away before he even got the chance, and walked out of his room, slamming the door behind you.

he was on your tail instantly, following you down the hallway.

“y/n wait”

no reply.

“i’m sorry, please just stop”

no reply.

“will you fucking stop!” he yelled. reaching out and grabbing your arm just before you got to the stairs.

when you turned around, he almost fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness when he saw you.

your eyes were glossy and red, and your nose and cheeks were pink, and stained with tear lines.

he did this to you.

“what matt? you got a few more in you, go ahead i’m all ears” you yelled back, with a broken voice.

he sighed and shook his head.

“i’m sorry” he whispered. you just laughed sadly and looked up at the ceiling. he wasn’t sorry.

“i didn’t mean what i said” he swallowed.

“oh i think you meant every fucking word so don’t try and lie to me” you spat through clenched teeth.

he just stared at you wide eyed, trying to think of some way he could make this better.

matt wasn’t lying. he was disgusted with what he has said. it was just one of those moments where angry people say mean things.

he watched as your face contoured. brows furrowed. pursed lips. eyes pinched. desperate to hold in any more tears that so dangerously threatened to spil.

you scoffed in his face, and turned, bolting down the stairs and as far away from matt as you could get, he didn’t even try to stop you. he just stood staring at the spot where you used to be.

and suddenly he realised, you would never truly heal. the pain would eventually be gone but the heart shaped scars elijah left behind would never fade.

——————————————————————————

LMAOOO SORRY YALL. 😛

fat ass taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @sturnssan @biplrbtch @valerieburkens @ukyos ios @eyelessdemon00 on @iheart2021chris @hearts4chriss s @leah-loves-lilies ves-lillies @whicked-hazlatwhore whore @lexihpwardsgf @1201pm-blog @chrislover911 @yourmom-123456789 @x4nd3rsukz @ilovechrissturnioloposts @mattnchrisworld d @leoloveeeee e @jazab3lla @martyniukpl l @sturnbaby @knowingnothingnoel @ilovemattstromboli @obsessedwithyou @dragonstoneshortcake @skyteller143 eloveschris s @biinthisbitch13 @skyteller143 @innocentfsin n @mattswifue @thatcrazybitch-69 9 @ihateeveryone357474 @shmophsturniolo @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 9 @sturnisposts s @jenna0rtegaswife e @jeffbuckleylvr27 7 @katelynmeier14 @sara2233445 5 @alexb25598 @sturniolos4lifee @st7rnioloss @kasiaslayuje @causeidontlikegolsrush @cosmicmistake42069 @xxloveralways14 @24kmar @creamoncreamoncream2 @kennyhop @khloe7233 @sofiasnookiee @sfdfgy @ikeryn n @sleepdeprivedandinsane @quinnroki @lvr444life @ffhgdxgg @travelintheworld 2 @aubreyswift13 13 @sturniololol l @starziick k @heartlesssturniolos @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes @milenchen08 @sstvrnioloo o @flowerneomie

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 2

Part 1

Eddie hadn't forgotten about Steve the next day. Far from it. But his early morning thoughts had been occupied with getting up in time and going through his morning routine. It wasn't until he got dressed and put his jacket on, the same one from yesterday, that he was hit with the remnants of Steve's scent. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath.

His number was still in the pocket. Would texting him now seem desperate? Eddie took another breath. Fuck appearances. He had to see him again.

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

Steve had been prepared to chalk up last night to a fever dream. Or even if it was somehow real, that Eddie wouldn't call or text. Or even if he did, it wouldn't be until weeks or months later when he remembered the pathetic omega he'd met one rainy night.

And then he checked his phone on his lunch break and saw that he had a few messages. All from an unknown number.

'hey' 'it's me' 'Eddie' 'that guy you met last night?' 'I was thinking that i could maybe take you out to dinner again?'

Steve beamed so hard anyone looking might think he was insane. How cool should he play it? Maybe he should wait until he got off of work. Would it be better to call? By the looks of the texts, Eddie seemed really into him. Would Steve be able to string him along for longer?

The moment the thought passed through it was gone. He had woken up this morning, yearning for Eddie's scent. If he got close to him again, there was no way that he could make him wait.

Steve told him that he was free any time.

It probably came off as desperate but he didn't care. He wanted Eddie and wanted to be wanted by him. He couldn't afford to play it cool.

Three days later, Steve was standing outside of a nice restaurant. Eddie had sent the location and Steve dressed in the best clothes he owned. Thankfully he didn't have much of a reason to wear them, so they looked fresh and he went the extra mile to iron them. It was a nice collared shirt in blue and some khaki pants. A car drove up and Eddie came out of it, tossing the keys to a valet.

Eddie had offered to pick him up from his apartment but Steve refused for some reason. It felt like a dignity thing.

"Hey there, handsome", Eddie grinned. He had a red button down over black slacks and that leather jacket again. Steve needed to bury his face in it, in Eddie.

Steve got part of his wish when Eddie slung an around his waist and led him inside. He refrained from turning his head to dip his nose into it and drown himself in Eddie. They sat down and a waiter was with them right away for their drink orders. The waiter asked about wine as Steve looked at the menu.

"Hmm, whatever's red and sweet, my good man", Eddie said.

"We have a nice Cabernet, if you would like."

Eddie looked like he was about to agree when Steve spoke up. "Eddie, what are you eating?"

The alpha glanced at the menu before pushing air out of his mouth. "Probably a steak, beautiful. I'm actually not all that picky."

"We'll take a Caremenare", Steve said. "One from Bordeaux if you have one, if not anything on from southern France is fine."

Eddie gave Steve an appraising look as the waiter walked off to get their drinks. He let out a low whistle and then Steve stiffened.

"You know your stuff."

"I uh, yeah", Steve cleared his throat. "This seems like a real classy joint. Normally a server will ask what you plan on dining on before giving a wine suggestion."

"Ah, so he thought I was some bum who would've been happy drinking some cooking sherry?"

"Basically." Steve hadn't meant to show off like that. It just came out.

Eddie didn't look put off though. If anything, he looked impressed.

"You know, I'm not hard to please. I'm the type to drink whatever they put in front of me. Unless it's vodka." Eddie stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"I figured a rock star would have more refined tastes", Steve said.

"Oh I think I've got great tastes", Eddie said, licking a canine.

Steve had been looking at the menu, about to ask what he meant he saw the look Eddie was giving him. He quickly snapped the menu back up to cover his face and how warm it felt. Steve was no stranger to blatant flirting. He'd frequently laid it on thick himself. But knowing who Eddie was and how they'd met put an extra layer on it.

Did Eddie like him for himself? Or because he seemed easy? They started talking, the conversation now about traveling. Eddie was telling him of a particularly wild night in Italy and Steve was halfway in thought.

Would he feel different if Eddie was just a normal alpha? Or was it the fact that Eddie knew he was half the way to destitute that made Steve hesitant? Above all, Steve just didn't know if Eddie respected him or if he felt sorry for him. Eddie hadn't ever said anything condescending about him or omegas in general though. He'd never made Steve feel lower than him. He made sure he was comfortable with rides and being paid for before doing so.

Steve remembered what his best friend told him before abandoning him (getting her dream job) across the country. Basically, waste not, want not, but applying it to everything. If Eddie wanted to take him out and buy him meals and drinks, who was Steve to deny him? And if he wanted something sweet after, well Steve wouldn't be upset.

"Wait, you tried sneaking into the catacombs? You know it's a tourist site? You can just get a guide and go in", Steve said.

"Yeah, well Jeff had this bright idea of going in without permission, cause you know, rebellion is totally more metal than just hiring a tour guide, and going at like 2 am because that's the 'best time'", Eddie did air quotes and rolled his eyes. "And also tried to get into more restricted areas."

"Lemme guess, Jeff's a free spirited explorer?"

"I like adventure as much as the next guy, but I also like seeing the sky", Eddie said. "And Gareth's worse. Dude froze solid the moment we got down there. Hell of a time to learn he's got claustrophobia."

Their orders were taken and Eddie watched probably with a bit too much interest as Steve ate. He was enjoying this ritzy fare as much as he did the bar and local restaurant from before. Maybe Steve was the type to fit in anywhere. Eddie wanted to give him more. He'd seen some of the couples around them. People with clearly money to spare and they lavished it on the beauty dining with them. Gilded omegas. Kept omegas.

"I just wanted to, I don't know, take care of him", Eddie had lamented to his band mates while on a Zoom call.

"What, like a puppy?", Grant asked while in the middle of doing laundry.

"No! Yes? Like, ugggh", Eddie ran his hands down his face. "I know how this is gonna sound. Don't judge me."

"Holy shit", Gareth paused in his gaming to look at Eddie's face on one of his screens. "Dudes, I think it's finally happening."

"No fucking way", Jeff said.

Eddie turned around in his chair, trying to turn his back to them but he went to hard and did a 360 instead.

"Eddie, do you wanna be his-"

"Please don't say it out loud", Eddie covered his face with his hands.

"He does", Jeff said. "He wants to be a sugar daddy."

"This guy's gotta be hot. You got pics?", Grant asked.

"No one's that hot", Gareth said. "Chrissy was that hot and you still didn't-"

"Alright, forget I said anything. This is supposed to be a brainstorming sesh", Eddie quickly changed the subject.

Eddie wanted Steve to be his. But he didn't just want to date him. He wanted to spoil him, take him on exotic vacations, show him off, have Steve lie in bed without a care outside of being Eddie's baby.

But he couldn't just ask that, could he? That was probably one aspect of celebrity life Eddie, nor any of the other guys really knew too well. Getting a date? Easy. Getting someone like this? Would Steve even want to do that? He probably had his own goals and aspirations that went beyond being some guy's plaything. God though, Eddie would treat him so right. Steve really wouldn't want for anything.

"So, I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but how does a uh, fine vintage such as yourself find him single?"

"'Fine vintage'? Are you calling me old?", Steve asked with mock offense.

"Well you wear it very nicely", Eddie quipped back.

"For the record, I'm not chronically single. I've just been pretty busy lately. Had a few quick lays, but nothing serious for a while."

"How about somethingggg not serious buuut pretty exclusive?", Eddie asked. He leaned a little closer to Steve and was able to smell the increased interest. Good.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you, me, on a French beach in about a month. You could really show off that wino talent."

Steve snickered and moved a little closer to Eddie. "Well you can start with not calling me a 'wino'. And if you really want me to show off, you'll have to take my to Italy."

Eddie put an arm around Steve. "That can be arranged." He started to kiss his neck and let out a soft growl at the way Steve melted under his lips. His hand found Steve's thigh and gave it a squeeze.

Steve hummed and turned his head to kiss Eddie's cheek, then grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. He gave Eddie's lips a rather chaste kiss but then whispered against them.

"Take me to your place."

dont @ me on the wine stuff i literally drank a $7 bottle of vermouth yesterday and enjoyed it clearly i am not an expert.

Part 3

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse

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