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jj-one · 2 months

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HATE YOU

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: enemies to lovers ? (sorta one-sided tho), college au, fuckboy!jungkook x f!reader genre/tags: smut, angst, alcohol usage, dirty talk, lowkey perverted!jk, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (oof), drunk sex, public sex (reader & jk do it at a house party), riding, video recording **pls don’t do none of this irl LMAO words: 2.7k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Hate is a strong word— at least that’s what people try and say. You meant it though, it was a word you didn’t use lightly. Especially when it came to your opinion on 99% of the male population at your school. You couldn’t stand most of them, they all just wanted one thing. Getting into your pants.

You despised hook-up culture with a passion and it didn’t help that most guys who tried talking to you were all the same. You had a special hatred for a particular individual the most though— Jeon Jungkook from your physics class. He was the most arrogant, conceited, egotistical person you’ve ever met your whole life.

Every class he would have a different girl with him wrapped around his arm, walking him to the door like he’s some kind of royalty. The way almost every girl would swoon over him just because he’s good looking was baffling to you. Yeah he may have a pretty face but does that cancel everything else out? Of course not. You’ll never understand why these women would choose to go after someone like him, you felt embarrassed for them honestly.

“Jungkook, meet me after class I’ll be waiting for you!” Some girl shouted through the door to get his attention.

He was sitting two seats from you, looking at his phone while paying no mind to the obvious screaming being directed to him. He was so full of himself it was ridiculous.

“Hey y/n, what’re you doing tonight?”

That voice startled the hell out of you. Who gave Jungkook the right to even be speaking to you right now? Looking over in his direction, you give him an empty stare.

“Why do you care?” You said harshly.

It makes no sense why he would even try talking to you, you’ve never given him any indication you liked him.

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he chuckles, “you should pull up to my party tonight!” You wanted to almost physically gag at the wink he just gave you.

“I’m good.” You shut him down quickly and try moving on but he doesn’t let you off that easy.

“You sure? The whole schools practically gonna be there, you don’t wanna miss out on all the fun do ya?” That annoying smirk on his face was really starting to irritate you.

“I said I’m good, I’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties.”

“I think you got me mixed up with someone else, my parties are always lit. If you have a change of heart though, I’ll make sure to show you a real good time.”

You scoff, utterly disgusted by his last comment, just about everything he said had sexual undertones to them. His humor was weird and extremely perverted which heavily pissed you off. You couldn’t wait for this class to be over.

“We’re almost here!” Yuna exclaims in the passenger seat.

You were in the back with two of your other friends as you were headed to a party. You weren’t totally up for partying tonight but ultimately your friends were able to convince you to go. You don’t even know where the party is but maybe it’s good to get your mind off things.

“Oh, by the way who’s party is this?” You ask suddenly as Lisa pulls into a driveway.

The car got silent for a second, no one answered your question. It was a bit odd to you the way they all froze up.

“Actually… it’s Jungkook’s party…” Lisa finally spoke, her eyes kept trailing away from you.

“What the fuck? Of all places you choose to go you pick him?!” You felt so betrayed.

They really drove you all the way here just to trick you into coming and now you have no escape plan. They all begged and pleaded for you to suck it up and let loose for just one night. You finally agreed but only under the condition that you want to be far away from him as possible.

“Why do you even dislike him so much? You would think he had murdered someone or something!” Your friend asks.

“I just think he’s a pretentious asshole that doesn’t deserve all the hype he gets.”

They just shrug your opinion off and get out the car. You huff as you open the door and head to the party with the rest of them.

You instantly felt claustrophobic once you go inside. There were crowds of people everywhere. Jungkook was right, everyone at the school was practically here. Loud rap music was blaring through the speakers, red solo cups scattered the floor, people getting sloppy drunk or stoned; the perfect stereotypical house party.

You haven’t seen him yet so that was a good sign and you go up to the kitchen to get drinks with Lisa. 20 minutes pass by now and Lisa was left out of your sight. You have no idea where she could’ve run off to and now you have to search the place to find your friends.

Heading outside into the backyard, your balance was becoming unstable from the alcohol in your system. You were taking shots of Hennessy back to back and it caught up to you faster than you could blink. You sat down on one of the lawn chairs since your head was starting to feel really heavy. You felt a sudden tap behind your shoulder and hear a voice that even when you’re drunk, you can sense with disdain.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t little miss ‘i’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties!’” Jungkook teases while coming from behind you.

“Get the hell away from me!” You lean away from him to leave you alone but he only came closer.

“This is my house so I don’t need to go anywhere, if anything I think I should kick you out for being so mean to me.” His face inched towards yours further, putting you in an uncomfortable position.

You don’t know why your body felt paralyzed though, it was probably just from all the alcohol inebriating your mind.

“You know, I never understood why you actually hate me. I never hurt you did I?” He says, slightly cocking his head to the side.

His tattooed hand landed on your knee, just planting it there while keeping strong eye contact. You couldn’t speak for some reason, it was as if an enormous lump has formed and got caught inside your throat. He looks down at the skirt you’re wearing and bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.

“Why aren’t you talking? You usually have a lot to say to me, why so quiet now sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He continues speaking in that condescending tone of his and you’ve had enough now.

“I fucking hate your guts Jungkook, I absolutely despise you. You’re a cocky, perverted fuckboy that needs to be humbled and finally put in your place!” You snap back at him while pushing his hand away.

“Woah girl chill out, that was a bit harsh don’t ya think? Also, I’d love for you to put me in my place any day.” Yet again, he never fails to make a sexually charged comment.

“You’re disgusting, seriously get help!” You attempt to get up from the lawn chair but he pushes you back down.

“You know, I’ve always liked my girls a little feisty. I find it hot when girls yell at me.”

Either this man has a humiliation kink or is just plain stupid— either way you don’t want to be anywhere near him but he wouldn’t let you leave.

“Please just go away Jungkook, I don’t want you in my sight anymore.”

“Really? Because if that were true then you would’ve been left already,” his hand went to stroke the side of your hair “seems like you really don’t want me to leave.”

His other hand went back to your knee again but slowly trails up to your thigh and goes under your skirt this time. You were surprised within yourself that you were even letting this happen. He leans in to your face, being just a few inches away from his lips. You became almost in a trance by those pink, pillowy lips. You don’t know what came over you but you grab his face and messily kiss him. The movement of your lips colliding and syncing together as he deepened the kiss. He sensually touches your thigh while you moan into the kiss and he squeezes your thigh tightly in response. Looking around to see all the people still here when you pull away from him; you can’t fathom you just made out with Jungkook in front of all these goddamn people. You just lost all respect for yourself.

“You know I’ve always secretly had a crush on you y/n?” Jungkook admits, “I kinda like it when girls are mean to me. Or maybe I just like it when you’re mean, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Let me show you how mean I can get then.” You reply, staring up at him with hungry eyes.

That cheesy grin never leaving his face as he hears you speak. The tension only grew thicker and he wasn’t about to waste another second.

“Sit on my lap.” He uses his hands to maneuver you and leans back in the chair.

You drunkenly stumble on top of him, feeling him against you. Your body heat raised through the roof but this time you were sure it wasn’t because of the liquor. You straddle his lap as you go back to hastily making out. His wandering hands kept slipping down to your ass to squeeze it and you were starting to feel dizzy from the way he was kissing you. You feel his touch under your skirt to play with you some more, not caring if anyone’s looking at this point.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.. not here at least. Too many people.” You say when pulling away from his lips.

“I really don’t give a fuck, it’s my party let them watch. Let’s put on a good show for everyone, yeah?”

You know this goes beyond against every moral you’ve had before. You’re about to do the one thing you told yourself that you’d never do.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Agreeing to go along with his narrative.

He lets you in charge now, letting you have full control over the way you get to ride him. You push your panties to the side and he undoes his pants to free his fully hard member. You didn’t realize how much of a nice cock he has, it was well groomed and had the perfect size/width.

“You have a really pretty dick, must I say.” You still can’t believe these words are being said to Jungkook.

“Thanks baby, I can’t wait for it to be in that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He drags two of his fingers down to your core and swipes in a circular motion, smearing the wet slick as he watches your mouth open wide with pleasure. His digits sink into your cunt harshly, pushing them deeper and deeper.

“Fuck! Your fingers feel too good…” you hid your face in his shoulder as he splits you open.

Your eyes hung low and your mind was hazy. Unable to think straight, you just wanted to feel Jungkook inside of you already.

“Need to fuck you nowww!” You yell, almost sounding a bit whiny.

“So do it then cutie. Come fuck yourself on my cock.”

He withdraws his digits out of you and licks the juices off them one by one. His grin would only get wider as you lowered yourself on his cock. You were so soaking wet you sunk down on him easily while resting your hands around his shoulders to brace yourself a bit before moving. Once you regain focus you slide up and down on his shaft nice and slow; making him bite his lip, moan, and curse under his breath.

“Your pussy feels so good… so tight… fuck..” his mind was going blank as you pick up a steady pace.

You were so out of it by now that you were bouncing on his cock in a frenzy. He roughly thrusted his hips back into you while you sloppily rode him. The way he filled you up felt like you were in heaven. You open your eyes for a second, forgetting that you were at a party. Almost everyone was looking at you, some people even took out their phones to record the scene in front of them. It was probably all the alcohol you drank but you didn’t even care anymore, you continued savagely riding him. You’re moaning louder as you slam down into him harder, pulling his body closer to yours. He loudly grunts from your walls aching around him, his cock was throbbing so intensely he felt himself wanting to burst already.

People were beyond shocked to see this happening, it was a wild party but they weren’t expecting all this. You try not to pay attention to everyone and focus on Jungkook so you can make yourself cum. Then out of nowhere, he spontaneously lifts you up while you’re still on his cock. Engulfing those large hands on your ass cheeks to keep you balanced and thrusts into you deep while he’s standing up. You had your arms wrapped tightly around him, you weren’t too scared of falling since he had a strong grip on you. You were taking his cock with each harsh stroke he gave, screaming out his name over and over so the whole party could hear it.

“Fuck yes Jungkook! Keep fucking me just like that, you’re so good!!” You could feel yourself coming close and so does Jungkook. Wet strands of sticky hair cling to his face from all the work he’s putting in, his eyebrows furrowed to concentrate solely on making you cum.

“Gonna cum on this cock for me baby? I feel you getter tighter ‘round me.”

“Yess, wanna cum on your cock so bad please!”

He was hitting all the spots in you just right, the slight curve of his shaft fit so perfectly in your core. Your mouth was back to being jaw locked again, feeling the heat wave of your orgasm coming through. It hit even harder when you were drunk, you felt like you were going to fall out of his arms but he noticed you slipping and pulls you up into a firmer grasp. While shutting your eyes you feel your release take over, cursing and moaning his name repeatedly like a broken record.

“I’m ‘bout to cum ….” He pulls out of you and sets you back on the lawn chair, “look up and open wide for me.”

You open your mouth eagerly for him, he gives his cock a few pumps before releasing his white creamy load into your mouth. You swallow every drop of his cum and stick your tongue out for him to show your empty mouth. He smiles at the pretty sight of you and goes in to kiss you once again.

“This is fucking insane!” One of the random people at the party says.

You recognize the person since they’ve been watching you from the start. To say that you and Jungkook left everyone at that party speechless was an understatement.

“You know people were taking videos of us right?” Jungkook says cautiously.

“Yeah… it’s probably going to end up all over social media now, if it hasn’t already. Oh well, like I care!” You shrug nonchalantly.

Oh you’ll definitely care when you sober up.

“Let’s get outta here?” Jungkook zips his pants back up and takes his hand out for you to grab.

You hold onto him and balance your wobbly legs to stand up. You were both severely drunk but he held his liquor way better than you did. For the rest of the night, the party continued and you ended up finding your friends. They soon found out about you were doing and how you fucked Jungkook in front of everyone there, they were all completely taken aback. You went from hating his guts to him destroying yours— guess that’s one way you can end a burning hatred for someone.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook drabbles #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine

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ipseitydelrey · 5 months

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Sei!! I'm obsessed with your writing!

Since your requests are open... I was thinking maybe.... NSFW alphabet with Reid? 👀

aaaa thank you so much !!

nsfw alphabet ☆ spencer reid

ship spencer reid x afab!reader

warnings smut, use of protection (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos!!), p in v penetration (i feel like this goes w/o saying), oral (m and f receiving), hair pulling, mutual masturbation, wet dreams, teasing, sex toys, he’s self-conscious :(, slight mention of what cat adams did (only implied), also he’s bi <3

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

it’s quite possible that spencer loves aftercare more than actual sex. he’s so enthusiastic about taking care of you; he’ll get food and water, run a bath, cuddle, etc.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

although he’s pretty self-critical about his looks, he does like his hair. his hairstyle changes frequently so he always appreciates it when you compliment him or you run your fingers through his hair.

spencer probably feels awful that this is his favourite part of your body, but he loves your boobs. no matter the size or shape, he lives resting his head on your chest like it’s a pillow.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

either in you or in a condom. he doesn’t really like it when it gets everywhere. although, if he does end up cumming anywhere else (like on your stomach or face, etc.), he will definitely try to clean it up quickly.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

it’s not too much of a secret but it still sort of counts: spencer has wet dreams about you. since you also sleep in the same bed, during those dreams, he would subconsciously rut against your leg and moan in his sleep. so far (at least to your knowledge), this has only happened once because you woke up to him doing it. you both are aware of this fact, but spencer isn’t aware that you know. you haven’t told him because you don’t wanna embarrass the poor guy.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

with women, very little; not even sex or second base, at most he has made out and gotten his shirt off but that’s it (we’re not including cat adams in this discussion of course). with men though? he’s not a virgin, so he does have some experience.

although if we’re counting what he knows through books and articles, then in theory he would be amazing in bed.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

if he’s on top, he loves missionary. the position gives him the opportunity to kiss you while he thrusts into you; he loves the romance and intimacy of it too.

if he’s bottoming, then he likes it when you ride him, especially if you’re facing towards him. he can still kiss you — giving him his much needed intimacy — and he loves to watch the way your chest heaves as you bounce on him. fondling your boobs is an added bonus! another position he loves is when you fuck him with your tits. that one doesn’t need an explanation.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

he thinks he’s serious (he’s trying soooo hard, he wants it to be perfect) but he’s unintentionally goofy. usually during sex, he shares little tidbits about the benefits of an orgasm, or how eating pineapple can make cum taste like the fruit…and it’s hilarious. it doesn’t really bring you out of the moment, just makes you laugh.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

spencer has a mouth-watering happy trail. much like up north, down south it’s unruly, but can still be classified as well-groomed.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

not much can be said, but expect tons of “i love you”s as he cums. he’s a romantic at heart, of course he wants some romance during sex.

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn’t masturbate a lot, maybe once or twice per two weeks at most; that’s if he’s not with you. in your presence is a whole other story. it was a bit awkward jerking off in front of you at first, but over time he’s come to love it (ngl kinda wanna write a drabble for this one).

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

why do you think he keeps his hair long? it’s just begging to be pulled! seriously, during a makeout session, you got a little curious and your hand trailed to the back of his head and you gave his hair a lil tug. the result? an involuntary moan. and as mentioned before, mutual masturbation is on the table.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

he believes any sort of sexual intimacy should be confined to the bedroom. he values his privacy and he doesn’t want to risk getting caught in the middle of having sex by anybody.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you being smart, especially when you teach him something new (which doesn’t happen often but when it does, he’s so turned on). that’s pretty much it. genuinely loves it when you correct someone else, or if you work with him in the BAU, when you realize something about a particularly hard case that causes a breakthrough.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

doesn’t want to hurt you in anyway shape or form. it’s likely that later in your relationship, when you trust each other more, you both might experiment with biting or spanking, but that’s as far as he’s willing to go. sensory deprivation (especially with blindfolds) are also a no.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s so different, yet so similar when both giving and receiving oral; he doesn’t have a preference.

if he’s giving, then he’s giving. at first, he wasn’t too good at it (you had to keep giving him pointers and tell him what you like and don’t like, but he has the basics down), but over time, he does get the hang of it. in short, his tongue has other uses than just rambling about statistics.

if he’s receiving, it is the hottest thing you have seen and heard. he gets so flushed in the cheeks and so sweaty, his hair starts to stick to his forehead as he’s panting. and the noises? the noises he produces makes you want to rut against the bed, the couch, his leg, wherever you can.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

if he’s bottoming, he does like it when you go fast, especially if he’s pent up (and maybe has been edged for a while too). but if he’s on top, then he loves to go slow. although most of the time, he’ll go whatever pace you want him to go.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t like quickies, especially early in your shared sexual life. he does prefer to take his time and not have any interruptions and the like, but quickies are bound to happen with how many cases there are.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

this is a man of science we are talking about; of course he’s game to experiment in the bedroom. with his limited experience (especially with women), he doesn’t know exactly what he likes and doesn’t like. but as for risks, almost never. the closest he’ll probably get to fucking in public is in a motel/hotel. he doesn’t want to get caught in such a compromising position.

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

he doesn’t really understand why people would sext when they could just A. say it to their partner directly or B. just call and listen to their voice. he understands why people send nudes even less; he doesn’t want to take pictures of himself in that way, or even risk sending them. the technophobia is real with this man.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

doesn’t own any, but he isn’t vehemently opposed to using them (either on you or him) if you own some.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

spencer doesn’t really like to tease so much as he likes to be teased. it gets him all riled up, especially if you tease him in public. as long as the teasing is masked well, he’s all for it.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

the way this man moans is symphonic, it’s mind boggling. he is loud, his noises can reverberate through the room. he doesn’t just moan, he’s got a whole arsenal of sounds; whimpers, whines, cries, etc.

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

the first time he got hard in front of you was a complete accident and he was so embarrassed, rapidly spitting out apologies and slight self-deprecating comments. you tried to calm him down - which sort of worked, thankfully - and asked if he wanted help with it. the event didn’t escalate into full-on sex, but hands were enough for him and you both.

X = x-ray (dick size)

like him, his cock isn’t particularly girthy, but it’s long, definitely above average. in fact, it’s long enough that you could still feel the aftershocks of it even when it’s been a day.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

the man is so touch-starved that at this point, any form of intimacy would be near too much for him. so, his sex drive would probably be high, but he would still only be able to go maybe one or two rounds. later in your relationship, he might be able to go longer than that.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

spencer is the type of guy to feel sleepy after sex, even if he cane only once. the activity takes a lot out of him, but he would still prioritize you first before himself. after he does his whole aftercare routine, he’s out like a light. this could be different if he has a migraine, in which case he’ll probably be up for a couple more hours (yay insomnia).

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ spencer ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #★ sei’s lexicons #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid smut #dr. spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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futureplayboibunnie · 7 months

Text

Heartless Pt. 4

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

thank you for all the love so far! also this is my personal touch for this fic, but while i was writing it i was listening to the entire Honeymoon album by lana del rey (especially the instrumentals) i’d recommend listenting to it. it fits this vibe so perfectly, literally trying to encapsulate that feeling with this series.

“I'm in the middle of something.” You piped up nonchalantly, like being half naked and dripping with water in front of men was a completely normal occurrence. “Well, now that you're here, it would be nice if you were helpful by getting my bags.” You said with a wry, and slightly pissed-off smile. He just observed you with darkened eyes and a grinding jaw, if he pressed harder you would practically hear the bones crunch together. The look you gave him was an urging one. “So what will it be? Gaping at me blankly or being mildly helpful?” Your tone was aggravating, grating the inside of his head- your glib comments were making him realize that you were actually capable of disrespecting him.

Miguel didn't know what to make of you in his room like this, acting as if it were your own. It wasn't. But you were married now. Technically, what was his was yours. He didn't like it. He sneered, his features merely angry slashes contorting up his face. “I'm not your sniffer dog.” He barked, storming out of the room and slamming the door so hard that it closed and sprung back open. You rolled your eyes at his outburst, but you had to admit, it was a little unnerving to see him lose his temper that quickly. Miguel huffed, grabbed your stupid bag, and slammed the door open like a bull in a china shop. “Here, and get out of the room. It's mine.”

“What? I was in here first.” You protested in vain, you were the one who was dragged away on a honeymoon, you were the one who was being ordered around like a stuck-up child. The least he could do was let you sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.

“Well, I own the fucking building.” Miguel bit back deadpan, his voice flat and so sadistically arrogant, like money was all that made him. It was an insult to the whole idea of humanity to rely on something as belittling as money.

Miguel's head was storming, dissecting every single premonition about you and how you could so easily flip on him, he would tolerate your disrespect for now, you hadn't properly settled in yet, but if you made it a habit, he'd make you regret it. It should be funny, Miguel was so proper and particular about his women. There were things he liked and didn't like on women. He hated flats. He only liked certain colors. He hated jeans. He liked skirts and dresses for...easy access. He liked his women easy, and you were definitely not easy. You were making it difficult for him on purpose now. But for some reason, defiance suited you more than nonchalant complacency. It was more entertaining than the graceful, polite facade you shirked up.

“Can I put my clothes on now?” You objected, snapping him out of his pondering, looking like an idiot just glaring at you like this.

Part of him wanted to say ‘Well. No. I'd prefer you with nothing on actually.' His steely resolve almost broke at the realization, but he shook his head and pushed it down. Yes, you were attractive but your personality was a mystery for him, he was battling his own personal mysteries, and he didn't have time to psychoanalyze anyone elses.

You slept...okay. Miguel didn't disturb you or actually force you out of his room which was odd. He probably had enough of this senseless bickering, you'd probably just go back to ignoring each other, maybe at least try to independently enjoy this stupid 'honeymoon.’

The sun woke you up sweetly, and the soft gentle breeze billowed through the open curtains, offering the hum of salt air whispering through the room. You wanted to avoid Miguel as long as you could, so you decided to just go in the garden, sunbathe, read a book, do something meaningless to just forget about the fact you're married to one of the most dangerous men you've ever met.

You practically jumped out of bed, went to the bathroom, splashed your face with water, brushed your hair, and put it up in a claw clip with the speed of an Olympic runner. But what was all the hurrying for when you were completely stumped on what to wear? You tossed out your clothes and put them all away, you ultimately decided to wear a bikini and on top a cute mid-thigh sundress, you weren't going anywhere too fancy, the back garden wasn't exactly Paris fashion week. When you glanced outside the terrace, you were happy to see that the garden was adorned with carefully cut shrubs, willowing trees, orchids, and chrysanthemums. Considering Miguel rarely leaves for leisure, it was a surprise that is was being kept up - it must have meant a lot to him then. You grabbed your things and opened the door quietly, wanting to sneak out as soundlessly as possible in order not to attract attention from Miguel, or worse, be the reason to wake him up.

You padded away barefoot, feeling the warmth of the sun outside surround you as it seeped through every glass window.

Even though Miguel told you to get used to his lifestyle, you still hadn't settled in, something just didn't sit quite right with you. You were fortunate enough to come from a wealthy family but the way Miguel wasn't bothered by the sheer amount of blood money he acquired is...distasteful. Thinking of which, you peeked your head around the corner in order to see if Miguel was awake but instead you found something else. He wasn't in bed at all. He was asleep, his hands were crossed on the kitchen counter and his head was flat on his upper arm, fast asleep with his laptop open in front of him Jesus. He still hadn't changed. What was it with men not wanting to take care of themselves?

You shifted towards him, inching closer and closer to his sleeping form. Wow. He almost looked peaceful, not full of that mindless aggression he was known for. His copper hair was tousled and disheveled, his golden skin was creased but reflective against the light, and his breathing was slow and heavy- it was odd seeing him this relaxed when he wasn't even in a relaxing position in the first place. You raised an eyebrow at his disposition. Maybe Miguel wanted to outsmart and outwit sleep, he obviously had to succumb to its charms. You worked your way around the kitchen island, unable to stop looking at him like this, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and just stood and stared at him like a creep. You really should leave before he wakes up, but you didn't want him sending his capos combing the entire complex for you, so you just left him a note.

In the garden.

Miguel heard a gunshot.

It reverberated in his ears.

More gunshots. Thousands of rounds smoking away.

His eyes widened, and the sleep left his bones. His head spun around, shifting erratically, and he almost fell off the fucking chair. A tight anxiety squeezed the color out of his face, the heavy breaths wouldn't bring any solance to any of the fragments falling at his palms. His chest filled with panic, and the first thing that came into his head to find was you. He eyed your note and rushed down as fast as he could. He needed to get you out of here.

But then all he heard was silence when he stepped out onto the patio. A muffling silence. Then the sharp hum of wildlife, the birds chirping, the distant sounds of the beach, the flattening waves. The crickets trilled and the leaves rustled, the nostalgia of the oddly familiar sounds crept up on him like a disillusioning shadow. An itch he couldn't scratch. A never-ending nightmare he couldn't end. A man with everything he could ever want, but no clear consciousness, no clear mind. He was blind and tortured.

You were lying on a sunbed, and Miguel only caught onto your back and a little bit of your side profile. His eyes were dead set on you, contemplating you...and there you are, emerging in his eyeline. Those flashes of skin become a painting, a jigsaw puzzle coming together. He was slow in his movements, finally viewing you as you were. You were lying there, glowing in a small bikini, taking in the sun like a nymph. Your body was so….

Miguel frowned.

The apple you bit into was stuck to your teeth, you stopped everything you were doing, pausing for your eyes to follow from Miguel's thighs to his face. This was the moment where he saw you as if you were like a deer in headlights, like a naive girl who tries to hide behind back-talk and retaliation. The wide-eyed look you gave him, pupils glazing over, revealing no thought behind your eyes. But he saw you. He saw you being affected by his presence. He felt himself loom over you. Your eyebrows creased in pensive irritation, Miguel's face was hard and steely in something he couldn't quite define. You finished biting into the apple, chewing and just giving him a nonchalant look. Reverting back like second instinct.

“Did you rush out here to gawk at me again? Or to blame me for your lack of sleep?” You breathed out judgementally, but at that moment, the way your eyes connected sent a strange chill down your spine, even when you were lying out in the sun. Miguel felt it too. The scorching, pulsating beat behind your gaze was a never-ending maze, an attempt to figure out who was going to break first. Neither of you was willing to back down. It was sizzling…as wellias unsettling.

Miguel didn't know how to answer your question. He couldn't exactly tell you that his nightmares of the most traumatic thing that's ever happened to him tricked his head into believing he was hearing the remnants of it in real time. Part of him wanted to say yes to both. His sleep schedule was a nightmare in itself and the woman who is the bane of his existence has to be looking so...delicious when he was absolutely not in the mood. He wanted you with nothing on, maybe force you to look at him the exact same way he just found you...with his hand between your thighs.

Miguel shook the annoying, sleep-induced thought away. He was acting like every other man, their mind wandering to hell when they see any attractive woman- he won't fall for it. He won't. But you weren’t any other woman were you?

Miguel watched you bite into the apple and instinctively, he just grabbed it from your mouth, almost pulling at it. He watched your face flit into a multitude of different emotions at what he did. You opened your mouth to say something but you just huffed instead, glaring a hole into his face. Miguel took a bite out of it and tilted his head to contemplate you. He knew he shocked you.

You were really fuckable.

Extremely fuckable.

It was an objective statement.

But he still won't play into it. Nah. You wouldn’t be able to fix him. He was too damaged for you. He wouldn’t mind the primitive pleasure of fucking you. He just won’t do it. You weren’t as nice as before. You’d grown a smart mouth.

“Hm.” That was all he could say to you. “I want my room back.” His fingers reached out and tilted your chin up a little, he felt you flinch just a millisecond and that expression on your face was unamused, dead set looking up at him. It felt like you were holding your breath. He took another bite out of the apple. "Happy sunbathing carino." He yelled behind him as he walked away.

taglist (giggles) : @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann @idolautism @residentialcryptid @bunnyrose01 @hqllcheers @minalovesyoubabes @amelialysm @moonvoidpng @ahano @hanberkkk @lavenderslemonade @mynameiswilliamblake @gejo333 @leahnicole1219 @iite-cool @zaunsin @kkchgee @yujyujj @hazelnutbitch @hiraya1802 @leo-lvr @sh4nn @watyousayin @siidmm @ciwywt-com @death-moth-art @ihateuguys @enmuhusben @berry-potchy @s0lm1n @amelialysm @migueloharastruelove @lauraolar14 @tashames @soymiguelsesposa @noblesavagex @miguelsslutprincess @lilipads (sometimes i hate this fkn app it literally doensn’t let me tag other ppl why)

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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facefullofsadness · 3 months

Text

stripper!ningning in a private room

dom!ning x sub!reader

smut, 1.8k wc

I had a dream the other night that ning literally just flipped up her crop top and flashed the entire audience, nips out and everything (she didn't even have a bra under). as if it was a part of the show too? had the cameraman zooming in and her fucking hard nipples were on the big screen with the instrumental to a solo song of hers playing in the back. the wildest part was when she started PLAYING WITH THEM? she literally teased around the bud and pinched them, flicking them between her fingertips and throwing her head back. woke up SWEATING! it led me to THINKINGGGG and came up with stripper!ning.

your friends drag you to a strip club one night to distress since it had been a long busy week full of work and you don't really leave the house, so they urge you to go out, just this once! obliging because you might as well, I mean why tf not, wouldn't hurt to try right?

little did you know, your plan to just stand in the corner by the bar and drink by yourself was far from what your friends had already pre-meditated for you. having settled yourself at the bar with a drink in hand already, you feel the hot touch of a person's hand slipping from your shoulder to your lower back, making you turn your attention towards the source.

your eyes widen at the stunning woman in front of you, a gorgeous dark-haired cat-eyed lady in a long black coat covering her body stood next to you, a sly smirk on her lips. you gulp down the alcohol in your throat when she opens her mouth to speak.

"my, you really are so much more pretty up close..." she says, almost as if her thoughts slipped from her tongue, leaning in to observe your face further, touch lingering on your body.

you dart your eyes anywhere else to escape her intense gaze and she clears her throat before speaking again, "sorry, my manners slipped me. I'm ningning, would you like to come with me?"

you stare at the hand ningning held out for you, the internal dilemma going crazy in your head. you see your friends out the corner of your eye, cheering you on silently and urging you to say yes. looking up at the woman next to you, her expression is expectant and she bats her eyelashes, eyes full of wonder and allure.

you don't say anything and just take her hand, the beautiful woman smiling and dragging you past the poles of dancing women, her luscious dark hair flowing behind her, into a private and dimly lit room. she sits you down on the velvet sofa and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing.

you gather the courage to ask, "did my friends set this up?"

her teeth show slightly in the smile she gives you, giggling softly, "yes sweetie they did. but I didn't go so easy, I had to see how pretty you were up close if I really wanted to go through with it."

she sways her way up to you from across the room, hands laying on your shoulders and rubbing her thumbs under your jacket against your skin, "luckily for you, and especially for me, you're fucking hot."

she leans into your ear, lips and breath hot on your skin, "I'm supposed to give you a show, but I think I want so much more than just that, don't you?"

her words make you shiver, a chill trailing down your spine. she pulls away to push your shoulders back against the sofa, your back hitting the soft backrest, as ningning straddles your lap. you can feel her skin on yours under her long coat against your thighs, the material of her clothes hiking up your skirt.

she pulls the knot on her waist that's holding her coat together, taking it off and revealing her black lingerie set, sheer and honestly not doing much to leave thoughts to the imagination. she leans in over you and hovers your lips with hers, feeling her lips curl upright into a smile.

"don't be shy, I don't bite... too hard."

she grabs one of your hands and puts it on her exposed stomach, guiding it to feel her body up and down, the lace and skin on your fingertips. she puts your hand on her chest, making you trail your fingers on her hard nipple through the lace. you obey, using your thumb to roll the bud against her boob, feeling it harden in your hold.

her breath increases in volume, and you feel her panting against your lips. you continue further, pinching her nipple in your fingers, eliciting a deep moan from her throat. you bring your other hand up and repeat the same motions to her other boob, making ningning throw her head back, her long sweaty exposed neck on display. the sight made your cheeks start to turn red and you started to feel your body heat up.

"learning quickly, aren't you there? god you're so pretty under me, can't wait to feel more of you."

and she sure did feel more of you.

you laid back against the sofa, ningning kneeling with her pussy in your mouth, one hand in your hair, twirling her fingers with your strands and pulling you in, tongue spelling your name across her sweet tasting cunt, her other hand pinching at her nipples, moans filling the room. she had secured your wrists to poles on either side of you, same as your ankles, your body completely sprawled out and barely clothed, ready to take anything she so wanted to do to you. and at this moment, she wanted to see how much of a good girl you'd really be for her.

chanting pet names and words of praise for how well you ate her out, her sweet and sultry raspy voice releasing pleasurable groans. her hips grinding rhythmically against your mouth, the hold on your head tightening and pulling you impossibly closer, making it difficult to breathe. you look up at her figure, the sight making your hole clench and clit throb with how fucking sexy the girl on top of you looked, mouth hanging open, moans slipping from her lips, eyes rolled back, head swinging side to side, a thin sheet of sweat forming all over her milky skin, her fingers pinching at the nipples poking through her lingerie. you could cum from just watching her get off on you.

"such a fucking good girl, baby. wanna make mommy cum? go on, drink it all and clean me up."

her pace became unfathomably swift, chasing her orgasm on your hard working tongue. she came, creaming all over your mouth, well mostly, some of it spreading to your face. ningning yelled out profanities as you pushed her over the edge, her eyes trained on you and how well you sucked her dry (she wanted to cum again just by how good you looked). her honey-like voice filled your ears when you heard her giggle, opening your eyes to look up at her, an amused and prideful look on her face as she pet your head and threaded her fingers through your hair. once you licked her clean, she hovered her body over yours and traced her thumb over your cum-stained lips, sucking on her finger when she collected all the spit and liquid.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, your body is going to be completely incapacitated and you'll never want anyone else to fuck you other than me. do you want that? does my good and precious baby girl want mommy to break her? fuck her brains out until she can't think anymore?"

you moan at her words and pull at your restraints at the mere thought of her making you cum.

"go on sweetie, beg me. beg mommy to fuck you dumb."

oh your friends were so gonna make fun of you for this later.

"please mommy, I've been such a good girl for you, please fuck me stupid, fuck me until I can't take it anymore. even if I can't take it anymore! fuck me until I cry, until I'm sobbing, until I'm screaming for you to stop!"

so of course, she does, how could she say no to such a pretty girl begging for her? eating you out until you're squirting on her tongue and making a mess of her beautiful face, staining her pretty lingerie. fingering your pussy until her thrusts burn, your walls sore, clenching over her skillful digits, clit overstimulated to hell. fucking you with a strap until you're screaming bloody murder, throat aching in pain from the yells and also her fingers deepthroating and gagging you, clit rubbing against ningning's, making both of you tear up with incomprehensible pleasure, your body jerking with every pinch of her fingers on your nipples or suck and lick of her tongue on them, squirting so hard every time on her cum-shooting strap, filling you up with her cream. oh how I want ning yizhuo to fuck me like this so bad.

she finally stops after what feels like hours of constant mind-numbing sex, your hole leaking cum. you hear her mumble something like "fuck it's already been 2 hours? I need to get you out of here." how considerate. her taking such good care of you, massaging your wrists and ankles from the red marks that had formed from the cuffs she restrained you with, kissing over all the scratches and redness she induced on your body, cleaning all the cum and tears across your face and skin, getting you water and making sure you were okay.

"need anything else angel? was I too intense for you?" she'd softly ask, voice so sweet and gentle, caressing your cheek and playing with your hair, massaging your head too while you drank water.

"mm-mm," you'd hum, shaking your head no ever so slightly, your entire body sore. hell, you literally could only hum a response because your throat was spent.

she leaned in close to your face, her lips right up against yours, just barely touching, "it's against policy to do anything I did today, so I'll break just one more rule."

ningning kisses you. not intensely, not rough, just her soft and plump cum and cherry flavored lips moving slowly but passionately against yours, an incredibly drastic contrast from just moments before. and yet, this was the most breathless you were the entire night. pulling away after a while and gasping for air like you forgot how to breathe entirely, staring down at her lips shining with saliva, a grin settling calmly on her face.

she lifts your gaze with her finger under your chin and pecks you again before she interlaces her free hand with one of yours, "don't be a stranger okay? what's your name?"

suddenly gaining confidence, you kiss her again, taking her bottom lip between your teeth and swiping your tongue against it, a whine leaving her throat. you pull away and smirk, replying with a hoarse but brave voice, "take me out on a date first ningning, then maybe I'll reward you."

her chuckle resonates and she stands, pulling you up with her, dragging you towards the locked door (holding you up because your legs are absolute jelly), "I'll take you up on that challenge, pretty girl."

what a fucking night.

a/n - I WANT TO FUCK NING YIZHUO SO BAD OH MY GOD YALL DONT UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED HER

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deansapplepie · 4 months

Text

Period .

Summary: The one time you were glad you had your period, and the one time you weren’t.

Warnings: young Daryl (just in the first part), mentions of pregnancy, period, blood, sexual themes, mentions of creampie, mentions of impregnating, little angsty in the end. Minors do not Interact, 18+.

A/N: it was supposed to be a small drabble, but it turned out longer than I imagined. 🤭 Period is something important in the story, but the main focus is really about pregnancy.

Also, there’s no smut just little thoughts of Daryl.

The Quarry, Atlanta

You were fucked you knew you were, but so was Daryl and that was the problem. You had been dating for only a few months before the outbreak and even though your relationship was new, you knew his temper pretty well being neighbors for many years.

Your period was late, it already was when the world ended, but just a few days, so you didn’t worry about it. Now, it had been almost a month and you were worried as fuck. You tried to fake normalcy, pretend there wasn’t anything wrong. But your constant lip biting and unquiet legs denounced to the hunter how nervous you were. “Spill it.” He said.

“What?” He took you by surprise, you were so into in your mind that you didn’t even know he had been observing for the last half hour.

“There’s somethin’ worrying ya. Just say it.” He didn’t take his eyes from you as he waited for you ti say something.

“My period. It’s late. I’m worried.” You threw averting his eyes.

In his mind a million of thoughts were running, but mainly 1. why did you have to feel so amazing wrapped around him that sometimes he couldn’t just control himself and just finish inside of you? 2. why did he still used no condoms? 3. he couldn’t be a father, he didn’t have this ability.

“Just that?” He asked nonchalantly pretending it didn’t affect him. “Want me to go to town and pick a pregnancy test?”

You looked at him amused. How could he be so calm when you were panicking? Part of you were glad he wasn’t fuming in rage like you imagined he would be, but the other part was frustrated with him acting like it was nothing. “Seriously?” You gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t need to. Let’s wait a little more.” You got up and left to the lake, frustrated, fuming and just needing to calm yourself down.

Days passed and nothing happened. Until the day Daryl woke up tired of not knowing if he would have to raise a child in this fucked up world or not. When you woke up he was already brewing something on the fire, Merle with him. “I’m going to town. Want something?” He asked.

“What are you going to do in town?” You didn’t understand, you had everything. Food and hygiene supplies, what else could you need?

“I’m gonna get the thing. We already waited too much.” He seemed nervous, finally one small demonstration of feelings.

“Are ya two gonna talk in codes now?” Merle complained feeling left out.

You ignored him and replied Daryl. “Ok. Just let me go the bathroom, gonna think if we need anything else.” You left in the direction of the RV, not everyone used it, but most of you. Especially the women and the kids, Daryl and Merle preferred to go into the woods as to not get the dirty looks everyone gave them, but you were different, you were polite and would smile sometimes. Also, you got along well with Dale and the women in the camp.

You distributed ‘good mornings’ along the way and when you got to the RV you encountered Dale, Ami and Andrea having breakfast. You greeted them and excused yourself to the bathroom, and there it was… your answer. No test needed. A pool of blood on your panties. You felt wet earlier, but the last weeks you felt it many times and it was always nothing, so you didn’t mind. You were relieved. The world was pure chaos and you couldn’t imagine raising a child in it. Yet, there was an uneasy feeling inside of you.

You went back to your tent and the small fire the brothers had done. “You don’t need to go.” It was as the only thing you said.

“Ugh?” He grunted confused.

“I’m on my period.” You said, and fuck if Merle was listening.

“Were ya talking in codes because ya thought you were pregnant?” Merle almost yelled. “And you were hiding it from me? The uncle?”

“Shut up Merle, nobody needs to know, and stop complaining about an inexistent baby.” You answered mood swinging immediately. There it was, you had seen the signals, you just didn’t want to read them.

Daryl stayed silent while you went inside the tent to take clean panties, pads or tampons to change. When you came out Daryl was the same way he was before, millions of thoughts inside his head.

“Are you going to say something or are you going to pretend there wasn’t anything going on just like when I told you my worries?” You snapped, the last days you had thought over and over again about his non reaction the day you told him, and that’s not that you wanted him to have fought or screamed at you, you didn’t, but you wanted him to share his worries with you and to be able to share yours with him.

“What do ya want me to say?” He asked, dryly. “Thank God? ‘Cause I don’t believe in one. Or do you want me to say I feel really sorry ‘cause we’re not putting a child in this fucked up world?” He had snapped. You were angry at him, but at least it was a reaction of some sort.

“You’re an asshole.” You threw at him and left, he thought about retorting you with a sassy answer, but he bit his tongue.

“Ya messed bad, lil bro… ya know nothing about women. How was ya able to catch a girl like her?” Merle couldn’t contain his mouth and spoke.

“Shut up, Merle! Mind your own business!” He replied, taking his things and living grumpily.

Later that day he returned with chocolate and painkillers, which he left on your side of the sleeping bed without saying anything.

Alexandria, Virginia

You were out in the woods, close to Alexandria. You had been hunting with Daryl, your husband. Yes, your husband. So many things have changed along the years, that some times you couldn’t believe how things were different. But one thing hadn’t change, you were still reckless about sex, not that you had options to prevent a pregnancy in the end of the world.

And that was the reason you were distracted while you hunted, also the reason you were not being silent like he taught you to be and were cracking every and all stick on the way. “Wha’s the problem, sweetheart?” He stopped and turned to you.

Distracted, you continued to walk and bumped into him. “Sorry.” You looked up at him and saw concern in his eyes.

“What’s troubling ya?” He asked his hands resting on your shoulders. “And don’t try to lie, I know ya.”

You sighed. “I’m late.” You’ve been late many times during the time you and Daryl have been together, but most of the times your worries would be taken away as soon as they started to build. But that time at the quarry and now, it had been a long time.

Now he already knew what you meant, and it didn’t worry him this much anymore. To be honest, he even thought about impregnating you during the last years. It all started when his Lil Ass Kicker was born, and then how he saw you taking care of her and interacting with kids. So… he considered having kids with you many times.

“Just that?” He threw the same question back at that day in the quarry. Anger started bubbling in you and then he just stroke you with his words. “Ya shouldn’t worry. If it happens, we’ll take responsibility and do our best. It’s our baby we’re talking about.”

“Daryl… aren’t you mad? Or worried?” You looked at him disarmed now that you realized he wasn’t going to be a dick.

“If ya’re expecting, I helped making this baby and I dun think it would be so terrible the idea of having a baby made of us.” Yeah, you had all changed a lot. You didn’t know one day you could desire him even more, but just the thought of him thinking it wouldn’t be bad to have babies with you… made you want to jump on him.

“Should we grab a pregnancy test with Denise or something?” You suggested grabbing one of his hands.

“Let’s wait a little more and I take them.” He started to walk and intertwined your fingers. “Now, let’s hunt dinner.”

Daryl had finally gone on a run to find some pregnancy tests, Denise unfortunately had none. When he arrived he hoped to see you in the kitchen with Carol, but his friend was alone. She saw his confused face and she knew he was looking for you. “She’s at the bedroom. She arrived and a little while after… she didn’t look well. I think you should see her.” Carol advised him. She knew there was something upsetting you and she was almost sure of what it was, but you had said nothing to her, so she decided it was better to not push.

“Thanks, ‘m gonna check on her.” He said before he left to your shared bedroom.

After he descended the stairs to your room in the basement, he found you on bed laying on your side. He kicked his shoes off before joining you in bed. “Hey babe”

“Hey” you replied and didn’t turn to look at him.

He laid on his side, spooning you and sneaking his arm around you. He rested his hand on your lower stomach, an habit he had developed recently. He’d do it when you got your period and felt cramps, but in the last days he had done it for another reason. “Can you take your hand from there?” You asked.

“Why? Don’t ya wanna me to touch ya?” He wanted to understand what was troubling your mind.

“There’s nothing there. Just my uterus. My stupid bleeding uterus.” Here it was. He wouldn’t deny he was a little upset, he had some hope on you being pregnant. He was even excited.

“Ok. Look at me.” He turned you so you’d be facing him. You had teary eyes and a small pout on your lips. “You wanted this baby, didn’t ya?”

“Is it this obvious?” Yes, it was. It was visible on your face.

“I wanted it too.” He confessed, his fingers running on your hair.

“I’ve been wanting for a long time already… since Jude was born and I saw her in your arms. When I have Jude in my arms or little Hershel, I wish I had a baby.” While you spoke, your eyes welled with tears and they started falling.

He gently wiped your tears, he could understand your feelings in his own way, because he felt them too. “Me too. When I see you with the kids, I wish we had one.” ‘And to put a baby inside of you’, completed in his mind. “Do ya want me to give you a baby?”

Your eyes sparkled at his words, and it wasn’t just because of the tears threatening to fall again. “Would you?” You looked in his eyes and he felt like you could see his soul. But, yes… you could. You could always see him, even when he couldn’t.

“As many as ya want.” He said and the tears you were holding just bursted from your eyes. “Stop crying, I didn’t say it so you’d cry. If you continue to cry, I’m not giving ya babies…”

“Don’t you dare Daryl Dixon! I’m crying because I’m happy, ok?” You cupped his face with your hands, making a pout appear on his face.

“Ok.” He spoke the best he could with your hands cupping his face and restraining his lips from moving. You kissed his lips and released his face.

He brought you closer and hugged you, your face hiding on his chest. He was happy. You weren’t feeling like shit anymore, you were feeling like the luckiest woman in the damn end of the world.

You were trying for babies as soon as possible. That was what he thought, a smile on his face while he held you in his arms.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #imagine daryl #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #daryl x you #daryl x female reader #deansapplepie

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talaok · 1 year

Text

Us | pt. 2

Part 2 of this request because you asked for it and I can't say no to you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x pregnant!reader

summary: You decide it's time to tell Ellie you're pregnant, and she and Joel turn into overprotective babysitters until you give birth

It was time.

You had postponed it for too long and hiding your growing belly was starting to become impossible.

You had convinced Joel to invite Sam and Henry on the journey to Wyoming with you, but they didn't want to bother you anymore, which was stupid, they never bothered you in the first place... well maybe Joel a little bit, but he doesn't count.

Nonetheless, you had parted, and were now staying in an abandoned motel.

Everything was calm for the first time in a while, which meant it was time.

"Ellie we have to tell you something" Joel spoke. He might have looked and sounded calm, but you knew he was just as anxious as you.

"oh shit, who died?"

you forced yourself to smile through the nerves "No, it's not like that, it's... it's something happy"

Ellie raised her head, actually listening to you now.

"ok..." she said, urging you to go on.

You turned to Joel, suddenly unable to speak.

Why was this so hard? It's not like you were confessing to something awful.

Joel caught your look and understood he needed to help out.

"we're together," he said

There. It was out. Not all of it, but a part.

A weight lifted from your chest as Joel's hand intertwined with yours.

"yeah no shit" Ellie chuckled, making you freeze.

"you knew?" you spat out

"I mean you're kind of obvious" she grinned " especially you, man," he nodded to Joel, laughing to herself "You act like a thirteen-year-old around her"

The man shot her a look, but you could only smile.

"Alright Einstein, but that's not all"

She stopped smiling now, and instead, a frown took over her face as she looked up at you confusedly.

"It's not?"

"no" you shook your head "See, I..." you bit your lip as your heart started racing.

You had never said it out loud to anyone who wasn't Joel.

"Ellie, I'm pregnant"

Her eyes widened and then fell to your belly "shit, are- are you serious!?"

You nodded.

"wh-why didn't you tell me? Did Tess know?"

"We just... we wanted to be safe, and no, Tess didn't know"

"wow" she sighed eyeing you two "I mean- congratulations"

__ __ __

The journey to Wyoming changed from that point on.

Now instead of one person urging you to eat their food, you had two.

It was like they fed off each other's worry.

You must have carried your own backpack for just over five minutes total, the rest of the time, one or the other had forced you to let them hold it.

Neither of them left you alone if not to pee, and by the time you got to Jackson, you were just happy they could finally back off a little.

Turns out you were wrong.

They didn't back off, not at all, as you got more and more pregnant all it did was just make their apprehension grow.

It was funny really, watching as they fought for who could help you tie your shoes or make you breakfast.

The search for the fireflies became less and less important as you got closer to the ninth month, and by the time you had reached it, Ellie and Joel had decided they were gonna think about that only after the child was born.

Which wasn't long after that.

You woke up in stinging pain.

"fuck" you cried,

That was definitely a contraction

You let your fingers travel between your legs and found the sheets and your pants completely soaked.

shit

"Joel" you mumbled, the pain only getting worse.

"Joel!" you called, gripping his arm.

He woke up with a gasp, immediately turning to you.

"It's happening?"

"mh-mh" you could only hum, nodding as your nails dug into his flesh.

He looked at you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, before he leaned in to leave a quick kiss on your forehead.

"it's happening" he whispered again

__ __ __

You had always thought the women in the movies were exaggerating.

But they weren't. They fucking weren't.

It was a miracle Joel's hand was still intact considering how hard you had squeezed it.

It didn't matter how many times he told you you were doing so good or how it was almost done, it felt like a year had passed until you finally heard a little cry coming from the doctor's arms.

"it's a girl," he said, handing the minuscule child to you.

You took her in your arms, scared to even breathe.

She was beautiful... actually, she was perfect, so warm and small she didn't even look real.

You couldn't stop the tears running down your cheeks, and when you looked up at Joel, you noticed a watery glint covering his eyes too.

"You did it" he spoke, his voice shaky

"we did" you corrected him "We did it"

"she's so small" he murmured, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips.

"I know" You nodded, looking at her.

You couldn’t help the sob coming up your throat. There it was, a light in the darkest night.

So many emotions took over you at the same time that all you could do was cry and then cry some more.

“Hey” Joel cooed, moving some hair out of your face “what is it?” he asked, laying down next to you.

You sniffled, looking up at him.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I-” you stuttered, looking down at your daughter “I’m scared Joel” you admitted “I’m- I’m terrified. I thought the birth was gonna be the hardest part but...” you had to stop to breathe “Joel, What if I’m not a good mother?”

He smiled then, stoking your cheek “y/n, baby, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You are smart, kind, funny and patient” he spoke without a single trace of hesitation “You are gonna be a great mom, I promise”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know you, and I know this kid is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mom” he said, causing a small smile to your lips.

“Thank you” you murmured, kissing his cheek “and Y’know, You’re gonna be a great father too”

He chuckled “with you by my side... I’m sure I will”

You laughed softly as both your eyes fell back to your daughter.

"you want to hold her?"

He hesitated a second.

"you ok?" you asked, noticing the shift in his look.

He looked at you, and that's all he needed. All the memories and fear melted away the moment his eyes met yours.

"I'm great" he smiled, taking the baby in his arms.

She looked even smaller when he was holding her.

Everything fell silent for a second, until, without so much as a warning, Ellie threw the door open.

"Finally," she said, "they said I could come in now"

"c'mere," you gestured,

"you ok?"

"Yeah"

"did it hurt a lot?"

"it did" you nodded, "but it was worth it" you said, your eyes moving up to where Joel was still gently holding her.

Ellie smiled at the sight. He had never seen Joel being so careful.

"you ok there man?" she teased

And when Joel raised his head to look at her, a small tear fled his eye.

"I love you," he promised "all of you. And if it's the last thing I ever do, I swear I'll protect you"

— —

Pt. 1

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

Text

Playing Favourites

Arsenal Women x Child!Reader

Summary: You definitely have favourites in the Arsenal squad

Leah, as a football player, is very cool.

Leah, as a sister, is a bit annoying.

It's clear to everyone that you were the happy little accident of the family, so much younger than your siblings, but Leah especially enjoyed taking you everywhere with her.

It wasn't uncommon for her to kidnap you from Milton Keynes and make the long drive back to the Arsenal training grounds. Honestly, your parents kind of just accepted Leah's loud presence in your life without complaint.

She was quite annoying though, sometimes. Like now, when she woke you up super early to take you to practice with her.

You were grouchy and moody but looked especially cute in your Arsenal puffer jacket and your little hat.

"Come on, bean," She says, hoisting you up onto her hip as you lag behind.

"Leah," You whine," Tired."

"I know," She says," I know but we're gonna have a lot of fun today. I promise."

You groan anyway, going limp in her arms as she wanders into the locker room. She sets you on your feet as she changes and you groan again as you wander around in an exhausted haze.

You bump into Viv and give her the international sign of 'pick me up please' - grabby hands. She holds you a bit like you're a bomb about to go off but you're relieved all the same. Viv's comfortable and you're happy to rest in her arms.

Jen approaches. "Hey, baby Williamson," She says, reaching out to push your hair out of your face.

You make an annoyed noise and turn away, burying further into Viv - who relaxed slightly now that you've gotten comfortable.

"Oh, come on." Jen pops up on your other side. "You can't really be choosing Viv over me? I'm way more fun!"

You turn your head away again and shut your eyes. Your breathing slowly changes into soft puffs against Viv's collarbone and your head lulls.

Viv has to change her hold to make sure you don't go tumbling to the ground.

"Looking good Miedema!" Beth wolf whistles but Viv ignores her, focussed on making sure that your hat is firmly on your head.

You're kind of in a half-sleep state - still kind of awake to know that Viv is moving outside with you but asleep enough that when your eyes finally blink open again, you feel more well rested than when Leah got you bundled into the car this morning.

You rub at your eyes and stubbornly turn away from Leah when she comes over to grab you.

"Bean," She says in disbelief as you slip from her grasp and hide behind the better Lia's legs," Come on! Are you still upset?"

"She woke me up early," You tell Lia, who affectionately rubs a hand through your hair. "Meanie." You stick your tongue out.

Lia laughs. "Yeah, she is a meanie."

"Meanie!" You say again.

"Hey! I'm your sister! You can't call me that!"

"Meanie! Meanie! Meanie!" You stamp your feet and glare.

Lia laughs and hoists you up onto her hip when your sister goes to grab you. "Come on, bean," She says," Let's get away from this meanie!"

You spend a lot of training with Lia and you also branch out to Kyra too. You don't know her at all. She's very new to the team and she's Australian too, like Caitlin and Steph, so she's very exciting.

You kick the ball away from her, one hand wrapped tightly around her shorts so she can't run away from you.

"You're Leah's sister, right? y/n?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. You're Kyra."

"I am."

"You've got a cool accent," You say. You take her hand, swinging it back and forth," Let's be friends."

She sends you a silly smile, kneeling down to your level. "I know another little girl like you. Her name's Harper. You can't be much older."

You nod along. "Does that mean you know how to play?"

"I do know how to play. What do you want to do?"

You think for a moment before slapping her on the leg. "You're it!" You turned to run as fast as your little legs will carry you.

Kyra laughs as she runs after you, catching up to you a few times but dramatically tripping on her own feet when she's about to tag you.

You weave through the groups of girls training, ducking and dashing through their open legs so Kyra can't grab at you.

"Whoa, bean!" Steph says, grabbing you by your waist when you clamber through the gap between her legs," Be careful. I could have crushed you."

From the angle she's holding you at, you can't quite see Kyra yet. You don't know where she's going to pop out of so you try to push Steph's hands off of you, not at all in the mood to play her games.

"Whoa! You got somewhere to be, bean? You can't hang out with me?"

"Let go!" You say firmly, trying to push her hands off," Kyra's gonna get me. Let go, Steph!"

Steph sets you down at your insistence, glancing around, but doesn't quite relinquish her grip on you. "Sorry to break it to you, bean, but I think Jonas needs Kyra for something."

"Steph!" You groan as though it's her fault that Kyra could no longer find you.

"Sorry," She says," How about I play with you instead? That'll be fun, huh, bean?"

You roll your eyes, turning away. "No, Steph. You never play right."

With your game with Kyra suitably ruined by adult jobs and all of your running finally catching up to you, you end up near Lotte.

She's always nice and calm and lets you nap against when you're sleepy.

You're yawning when you finally make it over to her and the new girl. You recognise the new girl vaguely but you're very sleepy and Lotte looks nice and warm so you clamber onto her lap without thinking.

"Oh!" The new girl says, almost gasping at your sudden appearance.

"Leah's little sister," Lotte explains. She jostles you slightly. "Hey, bean, say hi to Alessia."

"Hi, Alessia," You parrot but your attention is waning and that's all the words they get out of you as you sag against Lotte's chest.

"I think I recognise her," Alessia says," Leah gave away her Euro's medal to her, after we won."

"I have all of Leah's medals," You slur, somehow still awake.

Your shirt's ridden up a bit so Alessia moves to pull it down, only to get her hands clumsily swatted away. "No," You say," No play. Sleep."

"Don't mind bean," Lotte explains," She needs a nap and Katie's favourite thing is pulling her shirt up and blowing raspberries on her stomach."

Alessia laughs and that rubs you the wrong way and you uselessly swat in her general direction. "Sleep," You insist," Night-Night."

You conk out pretty quickly on Lotte's chest when new-girl-Alessia finally quietens. You're not quite sure how long you were sleeping because you come back into awareness inside so there's no moving sun to see if you were sleeping a long time.

You recognise these arms though and you really don't want to be in them, given your rather sour start to the day. With your uncoordinated limbs, you try to push yourself away but the person holding you keeps readjusting their grip, keeping you trapped.

"No," You whine," No, wrong. Wrong."

"Wrong?" You sister laughs," What's wrong, bean?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Want the other Leah," You insist," Lia! Lia!"

"Give her here." You're transferred into the Lia you wants' arms and relax instantly into them, yawning and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Oh, I see," Your actual Leah scoffed," I see, bean. Playing favourites? Really? You don't even have good taste. We all know I'm the superior LW."

"No!" You say stubbornly," Lia's the best!"

Lia laughs, hoisting you up further on her hip. "Well," She says," The bean has spoken."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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wongyuuu · 11 months

Text

Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork.

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it.

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him.

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all.

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try.

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends.

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness.

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes.

Living like that felt oddly lonely.

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them…

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility.

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart.

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you.

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was.

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all.

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either.

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open.

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor.

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side.

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know.

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

"I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would.

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket.

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you.

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend.

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle.

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness.

"I wasn't angry"

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit.

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy.

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you.

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t.

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared.

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking.

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening.

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed.

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment.

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were.

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then.

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you.

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around.

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything.

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that.

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you.

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs.

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you.

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside.

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position.

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy.

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that.

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest.

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again.

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all.

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork.

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind.

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with.

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him.

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that.

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud.

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

taglist: @belladaises @minghaossv @lol6sposts @weebotakuboy @alifethatsonlyonthepage @donquixotesvt @dearlosver @dearxia @yogurttea @royal9 @desibrownie @feat-sun @itsveronicaxxx @soonyoonswoo @matchahyuck

requests are open

#seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups x you #scoups #seventeen angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #svt angst #seungcheol angst #scoups angst

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ramayantika · 1 month

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I woke up just now but in half asleep summer nap state I will roll for Heermandi

1. I felt that Alamzeb's casting could be better. The girl was pretty but yet I could not feel the budding romantic expressions on her face and body language. Like that sharmana and poetry narration felt very forced.

2. TAJDAR WHY WHY WHY SLB I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. No spoilers. Tajdar is very charming, amazing voice, very handsome.

3. Okay considering the history of tawaifs I was at times so mad at Alam and was about to hit the phone screen to say woman wake up to reality.

4. Lajjo and Zorawar's story. Why he left her, her addiction and Lajjo's story could have been explored more. You have such a brilliant actress and when SLB is noted for using actors and their character to their greatest potential, I felt he did not not do that with lajjo this time. We only see her enter in sakal ban, she is always drinking and thinking about Zorawar

5. Manisha was brilliant. The ruthlessness, the wit and slyness. And for a tawaif of those times whose existence and power is constantly challenged, by other tawaifs and rivals and then nawabs and British she has to be so clever, cunning and vicious. Yet her feelings for Alam especially by the end (spoiler free) did make me understand her stony heart more.

6. Aditi as Bibbo was charming, graceful and elegant. And goddamn the way she uses her skills to charm henderson so she may help her people to fight against the British.

7. Star villain Fareedan. I was looking forward to her schemes. And it was understandable why she hates Mallikajaan (manisha). The power play, the constant challenging was interesting to watch. Also sonakshi really acted well, both as Fareedan and as Rehana aapa. I won't say much because the way her character changed at a point where mallika was violated (watch the series for that) like it made me get an overview of these women. Women who were wronged since birth, clinging on to their art and performance, carving a distinct identity for themselves and yet having pride over who they are, and despite all the politics, inner enmity and betrayals, they still did not wish the worst to each other and later come together for they all share one pain.

8. The women if heeramandi coming together to fight for the British got me goosebumps. They decide to use all their money and life to fight for the country. Aditi's (bibbo) dialouge ek baar mujrevali nahi mulkvali bannke sochiye and another dialouge which meant that when the country is burning one does not organise lavish gatherings (mujra mushayra)

9. Songs were pretty good. Sakal ban was trending and I loved the other songs too. Reminded me of Pakeezah

10. Sanjeeda Shaikh as Waheeda. Bhai I used to feel so bad for her. She was betrayed everytime. Poor girl wanted power too like her sister but I understand why she wasn't given. Tawaifs cannot be put into a box. They aren't your gentle shy lover girl type women like we see in pakeezah, the lovely shy, sweet, pure sahibjaan. Their world is a golden cage and to survive here is a war fought everyday.

11. Tajdar ka baap kya gadha egoistic aadmi hai

12. End thoughts: aesthetics = 100/10. I was still looking for slb to explore more of their emotions and life and not just their opulence. Summing up everything, heermandi: 7/10

#samridhi speaks #heeramandi

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so-so-woso · 7 months

Text

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

#woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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httpswritings · 4 months

Text

endless cycle — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: smut, toxic non-relationship

Word count: 886

Summary: Facing reality after giving pleasure to Alexia.

A/N: Second part of vicious cycle.

You were right. That same night, Alexia ended up in your bed. You didn't have any training sessions tomorrow, so you knew it was going to be a very long night.

Her lips devoured every centimeter of your body as you grabbed her blonde hair with your hand.

“You love it when I grab your hair like this, don't you?” With a few bites on your collarbone, she said, “You already know the answer.”

Feeling the warmth her body exuded was something else.

Alexia had a thing for kissing you on the tip of your nose and on both of your cheeks. You usually wondered if she had been like this with her previous partners. If this was part of the way she made love or if you were lucky enough to be the first one to experience that, “I love your kisses, Ale.” You noticed her smile growing wider as she was focused on giving you a few pecks on your left cheek. “You're so adorable, amor. Just how I like it.” You wish she would've told you how much she loved you. You've never heard Alexia say those words, not even to her closest teammates.

“You know what I need, right, mi chica?” You did, so you proceeded to stabilize yourself on the bed with your back on the mattress. “Can I ask you why you like riding my face so much?”

Alexia blushed. Wait? Alexia blushed? “I don't know. You know how to make me enjoy being on top of your face.” You felt satisfied with her answer but still decided to push her a little more over the edge. “So it has to do with me and not because you enjoy the posture itself? Have you ever done it with other women?” Alexia sat down on the lower part of your stomach as she caressed that part of your body. She was fully naked on top of you, with her messy blonde hair falling over her breasts. “I have done it before, but you're the first one who has made me enjoy it to the fullest. I used to think that it was a posture that required a lot of effort, but with you, it's different. You know how to touch a woman overall.”

You tapped your lips with your left hand as a sign for her to sit down on them. Alexia placed both of her thighs on both sides of your head. You gave her thighs a few quick kisses, winning some giggles from Alexia. Every time she laughed during sex, it was more difficult to not tell her how much you loved her and how beautiful she looked. That intimacy you had been building over the months.

She pressed her body down on your lips as you began to move them across her folds. “See, this is what I'm talking about. You know exactly how to make me feel so good,” she said as she moved her hips slowly, grinding on your tongue.

After a while, she warned you, “Shit, I'm coming already, mi amor. Don't stop!” Alexia came right after, feeling her body tremble. She got off you and started kissing your neck, but you made her stop. “I don't feel like it, Ale. Maybe another day.” Alexia got worried, as it wasn't the first time that you had some trouble carrying on, especially after you had given her an orgasm. “Mi amor, is there something wrong? We aren't going to do anything if you don't want to, and you don't have to justify yourself. I just want to know what's happening and if you need something from me.”

You needed her. You had her sexually. She was everything you ever wanted sexually: caring, communicative, easy-going, etc. But you craved having her at home as you woke up. Looking at her after getting out of the shower. Making breakfast for her. Getting home and seeing her already there. You craved her as a girlfriend, not just as a sexual partner and as a teammate. “No, it's fine, Ale. You can leave now if you want to.” Alexia felt a little bit pushed back by your tone. She gave herself two seconds to breathe before she snapped. “No. I'm not leaving. Not until you tell me what's going on with you. It's not the first time this has happened, and I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. If you don't enjoy it anymore, please keep in mind that we can stop doing it.”

That last sentence made you close your eyes as if a knife had been stabbed in your stomach. You realized she could stop whatever this was whenever she wanted; you couldn't. You felt so captivated by Alexia; you'd made love to her every night, even if that implied losing her in the morning. Making love to her was the purest act of love you felt you could do for her. “Alexia, leave. I'm not really in the mood. That's it.” She knew you were lying, but she didn't want to force you with her presence. “Okay, I'll leave, but please know that I'll be there whenever you need me.”

You were head-over-heels for her. That comment made you soften a little bit, and you rushed to kiss her temple. “I know, silly.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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charmedreincarnation · 9 months

Note

My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shiftblr #void success

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toxophilitis · 3 months

Text

The Widow's Horny Family cont

CHAPTER FIVE

The sun was shining when Peggy woke up. She sat upright in bed, confused for a moment. Then she swung her feet over the side and, wearing only panties, went straight to her son’s bedroom.

With relief she saw him sprawled there, still sleeping.

She had fallen to sleep waiting for him and had not heard Donny come home. That was unusual, because Peggy had always waited up for her son when he was at a late movie with friends. But then she had known where was and what time he would be home.

Last night she had not known where he was. And that made a difference, a big difference.

Simply because he was fucking her, she thought, was no reason for her son to ignore the established rules. Feeling angry, she showered and dressed, choosing a becoming skirt with pleats, a garment that emphasized the swell of her ass and swirled about her thighs as she walked. A tight, sleeveless summer sweater concealed her tits, but not the firm thrusting shape of them nor her nipples.

She had her usual coffee, thinking about what she would have to say to Donny about last night. The more she thought of his unconcern, the more she fumed. She thought about spanking him, but he was getting too big for that. She could ground him, as the teenagers called it. She could restrict him to the house for a few days, a week perhaps. If there was one thing Donny dreaded, it was being unable to leave the house during the summer months.

The sound of the telephone startled her out of her thoughts.

“Peggy?” she heard, the voice vaguely familiar to her. “This is Grace.”

Peggy’s eyes widened.

“Yes, Grace?” she replied, apprehension growing in her.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee with me,” Grace said, her voice unusually low. “I know we’ve never been that close, but it seems we may have something in common.”

“I’d be pleased, Grace,” Peggy said, hardly believing she could possibly have anything in common with that tall, icy woman.

“Shall we say in an hour?” Grace asked. “Just you and I—Susy will be out, I’m sure.”

“Of course, Grace,” Peggy replied, hanging up.

She sat there, her coffee becoming cold, deep in thought. She was sure now that Donny had been caught with Susy. After living next door to this woman for some time, this was the first overture of friendliness ever. She recalled how Susy had squatted there to whisper to her mother. And now, Donny out most of the night.

She felt something was wrong.

For a moment she considered waking her son and asking him what he had been doing, perhaps getting some information from him before she saw Grace. Discarding the idea of talking to Donny first, she went to her bedroom and brushed her auburn hair and applied daytime make-up.

She rapped on the door and was admitted by Grace.

Peggy was surprised to see Grace wearing a robe. But, despite the robe, the woman was made up and her hair was gleaming. She still presented an aloof appearance, despite the smile of greeting as she ushered Peggy into the house. This was the first time Peggy had been in Grace’s house, and she was pleased to see the good taste of the furniture and original paintings on the walls.

She accepted a cup of coffee, black, from the tall woman. She looked at Grace, thinking she was more aristocratic in her bearing than cool as she had first thought. The woman was obviously well educated. Sitting on the couch with the coffee table—solid oak—holding her coffee, she waited as Grace sat at the other end of the couch, arranging the folds of her robe demurely over her thighs.

“You mentioned we had something in common,” Peggy prompted.

Grace looked at Peggy for a long time before answering. Peggy shifted nervously, glancing down to make sure her pleated skirt covered her thighs. Then she felt and saw Grace’s dark gaze fixed upon her tits. For a moment Peggy almost blushed, despite the many times she had been looked at his way by men and women, especially those times when she and her late husband had sized up a new couple to fuck with. Yet Grace looked at her tits not exactly with distaste. There was something in those dark eyes that Peggy detected, a warming perhaps.

“Our respective children,” Grace said.

Peggy’s breath caught in her throat. So it was Donny and Susy. Her anger started to flare again. She had asked him to keep his hands off the succulent girl, but he had gone ahead and done something with her and they had been caught.

“Go on,” Peggy said, her voice barely a whisper.

“As I said, we’ve never been close, Peggy. But there are reasons for that. Perhaps, if we should become friendly, you’ll understand.”

“Please, get to the point,” Peggy insisted.

“Yes, of course,” Grace said, and her gaze was again upon Peggy’s tits. “As it usually happens, parents become acquainted through the friendship of their children. I’ve been observing the growing closeness of my daughter and your son.”

“Has Donny done anything that...”

Grace cut Peggy off with a laugh. The sound was very low, throaty, and, Peggy thought, close to erotic. This was a Grace she hadn’t known about. “No, of course he hasn’t done anything to displease us. I suppose you’re wondering where your son was late last night?”

Peggy nodded, confused about this woman. There was no icy aloofness now, only warmth.

“Donny was here.”

“Here?” Peggy repeated, looking sharply at Grace.

“Oh, yes,” Grace murmured. “He’s a delightful boy, you know, and Paul and I couldn’t be happier that our daughter has taken a liking to your son. We watch Susy carefully about who she plays with, you know.”

My God, Peggy thought. This woman is talking as if those two children are planning a marriage, or at the least an engagement.

“We love to have Donny here, Peggy,” Grace went on. “We hope that you would welcome Susy into your home as we do Donny. There is an attachment between the two that Paul and I don’t object to in the least.”

Peggy picked up her coffee and found it cold.

With her mind whirling with puzzlement, she made the appropriate comments, but didn’t remember the things she said or half the things Grace talked about. She was there for over an hour, and, by the time she was ready to go, it seemed as if she had just arrived.

“I must admit I am surprised, Grace,” she commented as she stood up to go. “You’re not as aloof as you indicate.”

“My husband and I don’t get too close to people,” Grace replied. “As I mentioned, you may understand in time. You see, our family is quite close, and we wouldn’t like it if others pried.”

At the door, she turned to face Grace. Peggy was perhaps an inch shorter. “I assure you, Grace, I do not pry. Your business is not my concern, nor is your family. Please rest assured that I do not peek into your windows.”

Again Grace came out with that almost erotic laugh. She placed her hand on Peggy’s bare upper arm in an intimate manner. “Of course you don’t peek in windows, Peggy. I didn’t mean it that way at all. I know, know very well, that you don’t pry.”

Grace was looking intently at Peggy, those dark eyes almost piercing. Peggy felt the fingers of the woman press into her arm softly. The falling of the robe caught her eye, and she glanced at Grace as the robe parted from neck to foot.

Grace said nothing, slowly pulling the robe back around her body. But not so fast that Peggy had not seen the woman’s body. Grace wore a bra, but it was a bra with no cups. It curved beneath her large tits, holding them up. Her tits had ruby-red nipples. About her waist was a black garter belt, and Grace wore nylons instead of panty hose. Her midnight-black cunt hair was thick and formed a perfect triangle.

She lifted her gaze to Grace as the robe covered the woman’s nakedness. Grace smiled at Peggy, opening the door for her.

Back in her own house, Peggy found the image of the tall, beautiful woman burning in her mind. What she had seen was not an icy woman at all. Grace, Peggy knew now, was not the cold person she presented about the neighborhood; she was, Peggy knew, quite a hot, erotic person.

The conversation, what she had not missed, told her nothing realty, except that Susy’s parents welcomed Donny into their home, and his attachment to Susy was also welcome.

She heard the shower going and went down the hall to see her son just getting out, his body dripping. His cock stood tall, quite hard.

Peggy forgot about Grace as she stared at her son’s cock.

“Mmmm, that’s beautiful, baby,” she murmured. She moved close to him and wrapped her fingers about his prick. Pressing her lips to his, she pulled his wet body against hers, soaking her sweater and skin. “Can I have some of it, Donny?”

His hands went about his mother, gripping her ass tightly as he shoved his prick to her thighs. “You can have all of it,” he said.

“Ooooo!” Peggy squealed, dropping to her knees before him in the bathroom. “I want to suck it... just for a bit.”

Taking her son’s cock inside her mouth, she sucked back and forth, tasting his throbbing hardness. The image of his prick fucking into the sweetness of Susy’s cunt flared like a sudden flame inside her mind.

As the image of her son’s cock fucking Susy’s sugary cunt burned in her brain, she felt her own pussy erupt into an unexpected orgasm as she sucked on his prick.

Pulling her mouth from Donny’s cock, she looked up at him. “Donny, did you fuck Susy?”

He nodded.

For a moment Peggy gazed up at him, then she climbed, to her feet. Taking Donny by his hand, she led him, still naked and dripping, to her room. Sitting her son on the bed, she undressed, tossing her wet clothing over the back of a chair she kept in the bedroom. Naked, she stood there, looking at him, her feet spread slightly apart. She placed her hands on her hips.

“You wouldn’t listen to me, would you?” she said, but there was no anger in her voice. “I had coffee with Susy’s mother this morning.”

Donny looked at his mother, but there was no fear in his eyes. “So what, Mother? I think Grace is nice.”

“Is that what you call her, by her first name?”

“She asked me to,” he said.

“What were you doing there most of the night?”

“I... we... Mother, we just visited.”

“You said you fucked Susy.”

He nodded. “In her room.”

“Where were her parents while you were fucking their hot-assed daughter?”

“In the living room,” Donny said.

“Were you caught by them?”

He shook his head. “They knew we were in Susy’s room, Mother. In fact, it was their suggestion that we go there.”

Peggy remembered the slowness Grace had used in closing her robe, the body underneath it.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, going to him.

Climbing on the bed, she pulled her knees beneath her stomach. “Right now, I’m so fucking hot for your cock, baby, I don’t want to talk.”

Peggy wiggled her ass wickedly in the air, looking over her shoulder at her son. “Remember when I kissed and sucked your ass, Donny?”

He grinned at his mother. “You wanna get your asshole sucked, Mother?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He turned on the bed and shoved his face against his mother’s creamy ass. The heat of her ass cheeks burned his lips as he kissed from one to the other. He snapped his tongue out and licked every inch of her smooth ass cheeks, then delved between them, licking his tongue over the tightness of her asshole without hesitation. Peggy mewled and shook her uplifted ass in his face.

Donny lapped up and down, sliding his tongue along her wet, quivering cunt lips, tasting the juices that flowed from her pussy. He slipped his tongue into his mother’s cunt and fucked it back and forth, then scraped it up to lap hotly upon her puckered asshole.

“Ohhhh, darling, baby... oh, God!” Peggy wailed as her son’s tongue fucked into her asshole. “Ooooo, that’s so good! I love that... fuck my asshole with your tongue, Donny! Fuck Mother’s asshole! Fuck it, tongue it!”

But Donny pulled his tongue from her asshole. Peggy yelped her protest, wanting it back inside. Spreading her knees on the bed, she looked back between her legs. Donny was on his knees, his cock very hard. When she felt her son grip her hips, she knew what he was going to do.

“Oh, yes!” she screamed.

The head of her son’s cock rammed against the tight pucker of her asshole. Peggy wailed with pleasure, arching her ass higher for him. The pressure of his cock upon her sensitive asshole seemed to create an intense ecstasy that rippled up and down her creamy flesh. She was gasping and making soft hissing sounds as she shoved her spreading ass backwards.

Before his cock entered her burning asshole, Peggy shot her right hand between her thighs and gripped his dangling balls tightly. She writhed her naked ass in an erotic manner for his visual delight, urging him to fuck his cock up her asshole. The anticipation of taking her son’s cock up her ass caused her cunt to twitch, quiver, almost convulse. Her clit had already been quite swollen, but now it seemed about to burst apart with almost unbearable ecstasy. She felt her son’s fingers digging into her lips as he shoved the head of his cock hard against her asshole.

“Ohhhh!” she wailed, feeling the smooth roundness of his prick penetrate the ring of her tight asshole. “Ohhh, yes, yes, yes! Oh, God... yes!”

It had been so long since she had felt a hard throbbing cock up her ass, and Peggy’s mind soared with the sensations. She had always loved being fucked in the ass, but the feeling her son’s cock gave her was much better than she remembered. She swung her ass from side to side, the ring of her asshole squeezing tightly as Donny’s cock fucked as deep as his prick could go. She held his balls against her bubbling cunt, tightly, as if she were trying to stuff them inside.

“Ohhh, baby, baby!” she wailed. “Fuck it! Oh, God... fuck Mother up the ass! My hot ass... fuck my hot Goddamn asshole! Give it to me, Donny! Really give me a fuck up the ass.”

Donny made no reply.

He grunted with the perversity of fucking his mother in her asshole. With his fingers digging into her hips, he began to fuck his cock back and forth with vigor, his balls slapping against the wetness of her hairy cunt. Peggy turned loose of his bans, her fingers now clawing at the sheets with blazing, mindless ecstasy. Her eyes were squeezed tight, her lips parted. She whimpered softly as the ecstasy flowed through her. The throbbing pulsations of her son’s cock could be felt with her sensitive, tight asshole, and she tightened it about his prick, trying to draw on his cock.

Bending her head down, she peered with liquid hot eyes, watching his balls slap rhythmically against her hair-rimmed cunt as his cock fucked excitedly into her asshole. The growing waves of tingling orgasms were building in the pit of her trembling stomach. It was the greatest feeling in the world to Peggy. Shaking her ass in a frenzy as her son fucked in and out almost brutally, she squealed and whimpered when her cunt started through waves of glowing orgasms. Goose bumps raised on her satiny flesh, bumps of intense ecstasy.

As she started to come, her asshole set up a flexing, drawing motion on her son’s deeply fucking cock. Her asshole squeezed and sucked at Donny’s prick with powerful, gripping muscles.

The throbbing of his cock became more pronounced, sending sparks of heat into Peggy’s ass. The burning, searing sensation of his cock fucking in and out of her asshole had her coming in powerful spasms.

“Come in me!” she screamed. “Come up my fucking ass, Donny! Oh, please, come in Mother’s hot, fucking asshole! I want it, baby, want to feel your cock coming in my ass!”

Hardly had the words erupted from her constricted throat then her son slammed hard against her upturned ass. His stomach slapped upon her satiny ass cheeks, his cock penetrated deeply, his balls smashed against her convulsing cunt. The come juice splashed from the piss hole of his cock in powerful spurts, flooding the depths of her fiery asshole. She could feel the throbbing of his squirting discharge within her sensitive ass ring, and it sent a mind-shattering orgasm bursting in and around her hairy pussy. Although her knees were drawn up beneath her body, arching her naked ass into the air, she felt a weakness come over them.

She slowly began to slump upon the bed, and her son moved along with her, his cock still deep inside her clutching asshole. She sprawled on her stomach, her long legs spread, her son between them, resting upon the round firmness of her shivering ass cheeks. She felt his lips kissing at her smooth back, between her shoulder blades.

Turning, she pulled her son into her arms and held him tightly, her spongy tits smashing almost flat against his chest.

“You see, darling,” she murmured, “you have no reason to screw around with Susy. You’ve got everything a young man could want with me.”

When he didn’t reply, she went on, “Don’t you see, Donny? There aren’t many girls that would let you fuck them up the ass. What does a girl like Susy know? I’ll fuck you anytime you want, suck your sweet cock off, and you can fuck my asshole when you want.”

Still Donny said nothing, and Peggy sensed he wasn’t paying much attention to her.

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

Text

SO SCARLETT (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER TWO: DON'T YOU

"DON'T YOU SMILE AT ME AND ASK ME HOW I'VE BEEN. DON'T YOU SAY YOU'VE MISSED ME."

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions alcohol use/abuse, mentions of drug use/abuse, minors dni

☆ WC: 4K+

☆ A/N: please heed all warnings when it comes to this fic - it's gonna be a ride of dealing with heavy topics. also, if you ever see me miss a warning, please message me to let me know.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The days had all started to blur together for Eddie at some point.

Wake up in a new city, enter unfamiliar venues that all sort of looked the same, play the same tired riffs on his guitar that had become more habit than passion, drink himself to the point of unconsciousness in his hotel room after the shows. Rinse and repeat. Occasionally, the monotonous routine of it all would break in reprieve with an unexpected party where Eddie would find endless opportunity for more trouble. Drugs freely offered to him in private rooms, others willingly waiting on him hand and foot, women clinging to his arm in hopes of a chance of ending up in the rockstar’s bed.

They never did come back to the hotels with him. He always woke up to cold and unfamiliar beds.

He’d stopped keeping track of most menial details. If someone were to ask him what city he was in, he’d only offer pathetic shrugs in answer. If someone inquired what the date was, he’d be lucky to even get the month right. Things like that didn’t really matter anymore. He had people for that. He had a person who took care of all his travel arrangements, only making sure he was in the right car or on the right flight. He had a person who took care of all his meals, some fancy chef he never bothered to learn the name of because he rarely touched the expensive meals. Someone to do his shopping, someone to do his emails. Someone to run his social media accounts and someone to keep his name out of the tabloids to the best of their abilities.

You name it, he had a person.

And at some point, between all the chaos handled and responsibilities shoveled off, Eddie Munson himself had stopped feeling like a person.

“Munson, are you even listening to me?”

No. He hadn’t been. He had been staring at an empty space on the shelf across the room, a clean circle formed by an object that no longer sat amongst the layer of dust. The sun was hitting it just right so even with the height, he could see the contrast in the wood where dust hadn’t been able to reach for some period of time. He hadn’t been listening – he’d been wondering what object had once occupied the space, what thing had been lost. Or maybe removed. What had been taken away from the shelf.

It was probably just a vase, or a meaningless trophy. Something shiny without meaning to his agent.

“Something about a tour, yeah?” he guesses baselessly, “You were asking me about tour dates?”

Matt, his agent, scowls, “Not even close.”

Eddie waits silently as he looks to the older man, leaving an empty space in the conversation for him to continue on.

Empty space. It was funny, the way nothingness could be so suffocating. The nothingness on the shelf that had suffocated all of Eddie’s attention, the current silence batting between him and his agent that was gripping his throat in irritation.

Matt didn’t say another word. He was going to make Eddie contribute, to beg and barter to be let back in on information he would have been privy to if he had just been listening.

It made a sigh of annoyance leave Eddie's lips, “Then what were you saying?”

He was just doing his job. Matt had been a good enough agent to Eddie, to the entirety of Corroded Coffin, but he’d never catch any of the guys saying so. Not even Jeff, the kindest of the boys. And especially not Eddie, the roughest of the members.

Matt had been hired two years ago, right at the tail end of the tour that had sky-rocketed all of the newfound fame. He was older, more experienced, better equipped to handle a band on the rise as quickly as Corroded Coffin was. A salt and pepper beard that spoke business, thin wire frame glasses that he always let rest just slightly lower than necessary on the bridge of his nose so he could look up at the boys over them with that specific look of disappointment only a father could muster. Heavy sighs when the boys were lashing out, muted patience every time he’d requested in person meetings with Eddie specifically only to slide another unpleasant magazine cover across his desk.

For a while, all that father figure potential had made something ache within Eddie. Made him think of someone back home, consider the disappointment someone back in rural Indiana was experiencing just the same in him. But Matt wasn’t a smoker, he had a head full of neat and quipped silver hair, and his voice wasn’t very gruff when he lectured Eddie on why what he did was wrong.

And most of all – Matt, unlike someone back home, still spoke to Eddie. It was only due to a paycheck, out of obligation more than genuine caring for his well being, but an incoming phone call is still a phone call all the same.

Eddie had hated him for every single second of those two years. He hadn’t wanted someone new involved in the band’s business, but it had been necessary. Because change, according to Jeff, was necessary.

Eddie fucking hated change.

“I was discussing the release, Eddie,” Matt sighs and adjusts his glasses to perch in that damn fatherly position, looking up from the paperwork on his desk before him, “We need to start planning the album launch.”

“What about it?” Eddie sinks further into the uncomfortable office chair, trying to keep his eyes focused on the large oak desk before him rather than that shelf. He doesn’t need to keep reminiscing on things that are missing, “We release the single, we release the album, we go on tour. Same thing we did last time.”

“We were actually thinking about a release party.”

He says it expectantly, as if the promise of a party should entice Eddie. And Eddie supposes that he brought that expectation about himself.

“I don’t want an album release party.”

They don’t get it. They never really do. The drugs, the alcohol, the women that never make it off the club’s front steps with him – they think of these things as Eddie’s indulgent vices. Things he realized he had the money and the status for finally, and so he’d taken to gorging himself. They think of them as treats to dangle before him. They think of them as pleasures, as rewards, even as punishments when they threaten to take them away as if he’s a child to be controlled.

They almost get it. They’re so close to getting it.

Eddie’s eyes find that blank space amongst photographs of other clients and rewarded plaques for albums gone golden, “Why the fuck should we start throwing parties now? It’s just an album.”

Younger Eddie claws at his throat and chest alike, screaming ferociously at the way he’s dragged down the significance of the music. But younger Eddie isn’t the one in this chair, the boy who had started a band out of a friend’s garage and had spent endless nights up late giddily writing songs about sticking it to the man has long since died. Eddie buried him years ago, and never bothered with a gravestone.

“It’s your sophomore album, and it’s highly anticipated,” Matt argues, the space between his brows creasing with both stress and confusion, “We’d be idiots to not make a big deal of it.”

“If it’s already highly anticipated, we don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

“We’ve already hired an agency. We have a meeting with a planner tomorrow to help with all arrangements.”

Another change, another person.

“I don’t want a party,” Eddie goes stoic, white knuckling the arms of the chair he sits in as his teeth begin to grind each other in a desperate attempt to reign in his temper. It’s only acceptable when he’s drunk, when there’s cameras and the image of a rowdy rockstar serves to garner the band more attention, “Cancel the meeting.”

Matt pulls off his glasses completely, leaning forward with hunched shoulders as he pinches that now empty bridge of his nose, “This isn’t negotiable. This is happening with or without you-”

“Like Hell is it happening without me,” Eddie snaps immediately, temper now flaring and tugging on the fragile leash he had on it, “It’s my fucking music, my fucking band-”

“The band has already agreed.”

Eddie’s anger hits a brick wall. Matt’s gaze is unstaggering as he lets the revelation settle amongst the dust.

The band has already agreed.

This wasn’t Matt coming to Eddie first to pitch an idea. This wasn’t a meeting to seek out approval.

Eddie was the last to know. He was simply the last in the lineup, an obstacle to take care of for a plan he didn’t have the capability to derail.

“I don’t care,” he spits out in disguised desperation, “I don’t want a pa-”

“It’s happening,” Matt repeats himself, not backing down even as he watches Eddie’s anger rise, “I’m sorry, Eddie. It’s happening. I expect you to be in attendance at the meeting tomorrow – I’ll send a car.”

Eddie’s eyes are no longer focused on the blank space on the shelf. They’re zeroed in on Matt’s pupils, looking him right back in the eyes as he sees an empty pocket there, too. Something missing. Something lost.

His only option is to lose this fight. This is a battle that must be lost in order to win the war. A war that everyone else is unaware of, a war that has been raged mostly only between Eddie’s own two ears.

Something missing, something lost.

Eddie’s grin as he raises his white flag is salacious, aware of the bloodshed to come.

Let it happen, he thinks bitterly. Let them watch it burn. I’ve got nothing to lose.

Eddie gets what he wants — the meeting ends suddenly upon his giving in.

And so another routine begins; Eddie is dismissed, Eddie is rounded up into a car, Eddie is left on the front door step of his apartment building with a doorman who doesn’t even smile at the rockstar these days. He’s probably seen Eddie at his worst one too many times, stumbling in drunk and incoherent, lucky that the paps had given up swarming the building this last month.

“Morning, Fred,” Eddie still greets him regardless, grinning behind dark sunglasses, wiggling his fingers in a taunt.

The doorman’s name is most certainly not Fred. Eddie forgot his name within his first week living here, though. And greeting the familiar face with a new name every time brought a little reprieve amongst Eddie’s tedious schedule of repetition.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” the man replies in a flat tone.

“Ah,” Eddie pauses by the standing desk, “In that case – good afternoon, Frank.”

The driver is long gone, probably eager to end his short day. Eddie couldn’t care less, lingering just a few seconds longer in the warm sun outside before he locks himself away in his self-built prison for the night.

The man, certainly not Frank based on the unimpressed look he wears, forces out a stiff, “Good afternoon, Mr. Munson.”

It’s Eddie’s cue to leave him alone. To walk away and stop pestering.

When Eddie was younger, he would have loved the game. He would have stayed planted and seen how much he could truly bother the poor man. A pest in its truest form, he would have hounded the man from the first day he’d forgotten his name until he had relearned his name. It never would have carried on this long – a whole year of being too prideful to just admit the game he was playing at.

Unmarked grave. That spirit, that essence, would lay restlessly beneath soil for another day. Another month. Another year. Another lifetime.

Eddie’s apartment is on the top floor of his building, making his knuckle ache when he punches the 10th button on the elevator. His stomach lurches as the mechanics carry him up, and he tells himself it’s just gravity resisting; it couldn’t possibly be loneliness catching flight within him, making its presence known with each increase of distance he puts between himself and others who dwell on the streets. He’d had the option to move into the same building as the rest of the band, each boy having taken turns in groveling when he’d announced he’d be moving out of his old apartment. He had turned every single one down.

His old apartment. That small one-bedroom apartment that still exists on the other side of town, the one he can’t pass the building of and deliberately demands all his drivers avoid the street of. It never really felt like just his. Even when he returned to it empty. It was never just his. It had already been tainted as something more, and he’d dished out quite the pretty show of money to get out of his lease early. It had only taken him paying up front with cash for the remaining months of his lease, a price that at the time had felt a bit light. There had been half an amount missing. Half a responsibility handed off to someone else. Someone his mind can’t risk to think about, not tonight.

But his new apartment doesn’t feel like his either.

And with each echoing footstep from the sole of his heavy boots, each click of each extensive lock that had been installed into his front door, he knows who he’s going to think about. Even before he pours the whiskey. Even before he catches sight of an old framed photo, folded with care and intention inside a frame to only see three quarters of the original picture.

Himself in the center, Gareth with crossed arms leaning into the camera’s view on his left, and a wild hand in the blurry corner that surely belonged to none other than Dustin Henderson. And if anyone viewing the old frame squinted, truly leaned down to focus, they’d catch it — the phantom hand’s nimble fingers curled around Eddie’s right shoulder, and the rubber toe of a shoe, creased from the wearer perching up on their tip-toes. The tiniest of details of someone no longer visible from the fold.

His night was always going to end up this way. Thinking about the ones he’s lost, even as they still exist within reach. The ones he had given away. The ones that were missing.

An empty sliver of space in the frame, where the missing quarter of the photo would fit perfectly. He doesn’t have to wonder where that absent item, person, has gone.

—

In deciding that the only way forward was to raise Hell, Eddie should have considered the consequences.

Agreeing to the meeting meant a plethora of inconveniences, one after another, hit after hit against Eddie’s already sour mood.

It begins with an early wakeup call.

Pounding on the front door of Eddie’s too big and too empty apartment wakes him up, head still spinning from the night before. He hadn’t drunk that much – at least, that’s what he had convinced himself after his fifth glass of whiskey straight.

He hadn’t even poured the liquor over ice. Leaving something to be desired, something missing, but telling himself he deserved the burn all the same.

After he had been rushed through his morning, Matt himself arrived to escort Eddie to the meeting as if he had sensed the impending trouble from the easy succession the day before, it only got worse. The headache lingered, and Matt only made it pound against Eddie’s temples more aggressively as he spent the entire drive going over details that were entirely insignificant to the frontman. Nothing more than talk of a release party Eddie was still adamantly against.

The black and tinted SUV had never more resembled a prison on wheels.

“I figure we have time,” Matt focuses down on his phone, thumbs flying as he no doubt replies to an email in relation to this entire plot, “We haven’t announced the album yet, or the single. Release date is set for…” he pauses, checking the calendar on his small screen, “November sixteenth. So we’ve got about six months. We outlined more of the specific timeline in the contract with the company, but I’m thinking the first single should be released in three months…”

Eddie tunes him out slowly but surely, his tone eventually muddling with the hum of the tires on asphalt. He knows when the album deadline is. He knows when the first single will be released, having been involved in every step of the mastering process.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

That’s the problem.

He knows this album better than the back of his own hand. He’s painstakingly aware of the memory of writing every single line, formulating every single guitar riff and going as far as to override Gareth on the drums when it came to perfecting beats during recording. He’s acutely aware of the ticking countdown in the back of his mind until this album no longer belongs to just him, to just the band – the day it becomes something for others to own, to analyze, to decide to relate to their own experiences.

The thought makes Eddie physically ill.

Because it’s not their experiences or their emotions to reclaim. It isn’t their blood, their sweat, their tears across every track. It’s not even the rest of the band’s – it’s Eddie’s. They had all known the first day he’d stormed into the studio, beginning the process two years ago, this was going to be his journey to take. The band had become a vessel, the album a labor of his own demise.

He’s so lost in his thoughts and swirling nausea, he doesn’t realize the car has come to a full stop until Matt’s hand comes down on his shoulder.

“You ready?”

No. But I never will be.

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging off the palm meant to be comforting but only being smothering.

The ache only returns whenever someone touches him. Whether it be Matt, or Jeff, or Gareth, or Grant, or random women at unnamed clubs Eddie hardly remembers the insides of. The ache of something missing, something lost, something he’s tried to forget but can’t seem to erase from the back of his mind.

The building is nice. A large skyscraper to fit in amongst the rest of the city skyline around it, no lack of large ceiling-to-floor windows or modern decor. Something about the minimalistic approach, abstract artwork and fake plants that are almost convincing if it weren’t for their plasticky shine beneath fluorescent lights, leaves Eddie feeling even more empty than when he first entered the building. He didn’t even realize that was possible until he caught sight of one of the receptionist’s blank smiles.

Not a single word is spoken during the elevator ride up to the sixth floor. It’s fine; Eddie has already spent the last two years trying to find solstice in the silence, he can survive another minute.

He’s almost prepared to ask Matt if the rest of the band is even here, but the question is answered for him after he’s guided through a series of hallways by another soulless receptionist, only to enter a large conference room in which two security guards flank the door of and the rest of Corroded Coffin occupy.

“Finally,” Gareth says, far too dramatically, as if Eddie was late.

Matt had made sure he arrived a full five minutes early. A personal record, Eddie’s pretty sure.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting,” Eddie sarcastically snaps, bowing for a bit of theatrics before he rounds the long table to go for the empty seat at the dead center of his friends. Right between Gareth and Grant, Eddie slips into a stiff-cushioned roller chair that creaks beneath his weight, “What is this place, anyways?”

“An event planning agency,” Jeff answers from the other side of Gareth.

Matt takes the seat beside Grant.

“You do know what the meeting is about, right?” Gareth asks, genuinely quirking an eyebrow with such little faith in Eddie.

It rubs him raw, offended despite understanding where his bandmates were coming from. He had become fairly disconnected from the business aspect of the band for a while now, “Of fucking course, I do. I’m not entirely oblivious.”

“You sure do act like it,” Gareth mutters, barely audible, in return.

He doesn’t reply. Not with his immediate offense, and certainly not with the snarky reply that begins to materialize in his mind the longer he sits with the insinuation. Even if it hurts, Eddie won’t let it show. He numbs it, compartmentalizes it, packs the emotion tightly away and leaves behind nothing more than an empty space.

Matt anxiously checks his watch, Craig begins to tap his knuckles against the large table before them all, Jeff begins to bounce his leg, and Gareth seems hellbent on now pretending that Eddie doesn’t exist.

Don’t let it show. Even if it hurts.

“They’re late-” Matt starts to mutter just as the door finally swings open. Eddie doesn’t move an inch, keeping his arms crossed and posture slack in his chair, as if he couldn’t care less.

The person who storms in first clearly cares. “I’m so sorry, gentleman, there was just some… complications with your security measures-”

Eddie doesn’t care who this woman is. He doesn’t care for the sudden sweep of her overwhelming perfume that follows her into the room, he doesn’t care for the bleeding edges of her mauve lipstick, he doesn’t care for the startling slickness of her pin straight blonde hair. She smooths her free hand over a pencil skirt he also feels little opinion towards, nothing more than another addition to a dreadfully boring corporate dress code. She’s nothing special – she doesn’t take his breath away.

It’s the person that follows her into the conference room that sucks all the air out of his lungs.

Frizzy hair, glaring eyes over a shoulder at one of the guards. Arms full of manila folders and a pen tucked behind the ear. A far more casual attire of jeans and a wrinkle-free shirt that fits well. If his eyes could tear away from the person’s face that had yet to turn cheek towards him, he’d probably glance down to find a pair of comfortable sneakers rather than heels like the first woman wore.

A ghost. A phantom from Eddie’s past that had spent the last two years haunting every dream, every melody, every crowd, every drunken night. The one face that ruined every other set of eyes that had ever landed on him with the worst intentions.

You.

You haven’t spotted him yet, not like he’s spotted you. You’re full of fire and spunk, so unlike the last time he’d seen you with his own two eyes. No burning cheeks like the first time he’d met you. No downturned gaze full of brimming loss or sadness, only a fierce gaze you won’t back down from.

And then, from across a deathly still room, your head turns and your eyes find his.

Like the first breath of wind amongst an impending hurricane, your fire exits you in a singular exhale. Eddie swears it travels across the room for him. Snaking its way over more than just physical distance, reaching out for him in a whisper of loss – no elongated conference table, no narrow room, no amount of time could deter its pathway to him.

You, who he hadn’t seen in over two years. You, who had once been his end all and be all. You, who had chewed him up and spit him out without ever once sharpening your teeth.

The entire room pauses for the two of you. Every single member of Corroded Coffin is staring, the corporate machine in a pencil skirt stills, and Matt glances at Eddie with blissful unawareness.

An empty space on a shelf, surrounded in dust. A glass half-empty, lacking in ice. A cold bed and an echoing hallway, a picture frame never quite filled as it should be.

Something lost, something missing.

All Eddie is capable of is the sigh of your name.

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Text

—𓆩[cufflinks (s.r.)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Husband! Spencer Reid x Wife! BAU Profiler! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.4K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Spencer and a wedding ring never fit to you. The idea of marriage fit perfectly with him, but the idea of a band around his finger? No way. Instead, you both settled on cufflinks, both engraved with your initials and the latitude and longitude lines of where you both tied the knot. It wasn’t obvious though, not until a serial killer pointed it out.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Cursing & foul language || mentions of sexual assault – not specific – please be wary || Y/F/I means your first initial idek || killer threatens Spencer through you || Spencer gets violent and angry || I think that’s it, let me know if you think any should be added!! ||

You didn’t have a problem with Spencer not wearing a ring, not one bit. He was always extremely open about how he rejected other women, always saying, ‘I’m married.’ to anyone who ever said anything to him. Besides, whoever paid enough attention could see how much he not only stared at you, but the way his hand would graze your waist when he went around you to write or pin something on the board.

At home or in public that was extremely far from the world of the BAU, he would wear a ring, the gold one engraved with the same thing – your initials, the lines of latitude and longitude, and as a bonus because it didn’t fit on the cufflinks, a line from your favorite poem engraved on the inner band.

On yours, besides the white gold band and your favorite gemstone encircled with diamonds, it had his favorite poem line engraved in the inner band as well. It was a later addition to your wedding ring, after your five year anniversary where he stole it and got it engraved for you.

This case though was different.

The killer was easily seen as misogynistic, especially in the way that he killed the women he did, specifically targeting married women and killing them after sexually assaulting them and leaving them in their bed before their husband woke up, or if he was gone.

This posed only one question – who was going to interview him?

There were different ways to go about this, you and JJ could go in as strong married women and tease him, or Matt and Spencer could go in as married men.

“JJ, Y/N – get ready to go in,” Emily says, inhaling as she stared at the man staring mindlessly at the two way glass. “We need to find out where Lucy is.”

“Got it,” you say, rubbing your wedding ring as you look over at JJ. “Ready?”

“Always,” she smiled, offering her hand for a fist bump before Spencer shook his head.

“I’ll go in.”

“What?” Emily paused, shaking her head. “No, you’re not-”

Spencer walked in before she could say anything else, quickly ordering Matt to follow him in as Spencer sat down in front of Ryan, the man they profiled to have been murdering these women after he killed his wife who cheated on him with his best friend, and best man at their wedding. Ryan’s eyes catch on Spencer who sat down in front of him, Matt standing and leaning against the two sided mirror.

“It was Agent Reid, correct-”

“Dr. Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrected, quickly fixing his cufflinks as Ryan’s eyes flashed to Matt and he smiled.

“My apologies. Dr. Reid. So, I see why they sent this… man in here, that shiny silver band on his finger, trying to intimidate me,” he moved to look at Reid. “But you… you don’t show obvious signs of being married.”

Spencer doesn’t break eye contact or move, that he could tell at least. “I’m not.”

Ryan smiles. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“Your wife’s.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“I don’t know if she’d like you rejecting the fact that you're married,” Ryan mocked him, copying his straightened form and interlacing his fingers. “Is she an agent?”

“How did it feel when your wife cheated on you with your best friend?” Reid’s question made Ryan’s face flash, Matt straightening slightly. “Must’ve hurt.”

“Not really.”

“Oh no? It didn’t hurt you enough to kill not only her but also your best friend and five other women who you thought resembled her? Women who were faithful to their husbands?” Reid leaned forward. “Unlike yours?”

Ryan swallowed. “None of them were faithful.”

“How so?” Matt finally spoke, Ryan smiling slightly.

“Does her name start with… Y/F/I?” Ryan tilted his head. “Was R the original first letter of her last name or did you change it?”

Reid tried not to react. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not married.”

“Is she an agent?”

“I’m not married.”

“Was she that H/C agent? She looks like my ex, I saw it the moment she came in busting down that door. It was kind of hot,” Ryan smirked, leaning forward. “Is she like that in bed, Dr. Reid? Or is she more submissive? You don’t look like the kind of guy that takes control, but damn would it be nice to see her beg-”

“The only thing that you’re going to hear begging is your own voice in prison when every man in there is passing you around like a toy,” Reid responded, tilting his head slightly. “Do you know where rapists stand on the totem pole, don’t you? And where you’re going… you’re going to be one of their bitches.”

Ryan’s smile falters as Reid smiles, tilting his head. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Who’s Lucy? I’m focused on that wifey of yours.”

“Could it be where you and your wife got married?” Reid asked, watching as Ryan’s eye twitched. That wasn’t hard.

Matt was already walking out as Spencer started to stand, Ryan leaning back in his chair. “Is your wife faithful, Dr. Reid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid responded, glaring. He knew you were faithful, going on being married almost eight years, sticking it out when he was arrested and through worse things like his addiction. “Those who cheat aren’t built for a relationship.”

“If she cheated, wouldn’t you kill her?!” Ryan sat up, attempting to force his wrists out of the handcuffs. “They were all cheaters, all of them!”

“My wife would never cheat.” Reid finally let the facade crack, slamming his hands down onto the desk. “Just because a woman cheated on a stupid, narcissistic, misogynistic man like you!”

“I should’ve hunted her first,” Ryan snarled, glaring up at Reid as he laughed. “Shoulda gone for the pretty wife of Dr. Reid-”

Reid’s actions were quick, his hand flying forward to slam Ryan’s face into the metal table, repeatedly bashing him into the table before Alvez came running in, wrapping his arms around Reid’s waist and dragging him out of the room.

“Reid, Reid!” You rushed forward, quickly running forward to cup his face. “Spence, baby, calm down. Calm down.”

It was as though you snapped him out of a trance, his body going stiff as your hands softly held his face, thumbs softly rubbing along his skin as you looked back at Luke. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke let him go as you quickly hold Spencer’s shoulder, pushing your hands down his arms to hold his hands and pull him to one of the private rooms, cupping his face as he immediately leaned into your chest. He inhaled sharply as he kissed your neck. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I am so so sorry. I hated… I hated thinking of you with him… him touching you, anyone touching you other than me.”

“No one will,” you whisper back, pulling away to cup his face once again and press a firm kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Spencer Reid. Forever and always, no matter what. You see this ring? I’m yours.”

He inhaled, nodding as he leaned forward to kiss you softly, humming. “I think… I want a ring instead of cufflinks.”

His words make you giggle, shaking your head. “You sure? I can get you more cufflinks.”

He laughed slightly, nodding. “Okay. I like cufflinks.”

“Then cufflinks you shall have, my love. And I’ll add something to that ring you have at home, too.”

He smiled, nodding as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Reid.”

You giggled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You better.”

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